Page 2 of Sterling Clay

Clay tilts his head, door still open, rain hitting his back, and catches sight of Dutton in the backseat. My son’s head is tipped to the side, leaning awkwardly on a bed pillow pressed against the window. His mouth hangs open, and he’s gently snoring.

Clay’s eyes drift back to mine. He pauses another second as if contemplating something but when a clap of thunder rustles through the trees and a sudden bolt of lightning cracks upward from the street before us, Clay settles into my car. He slams the door then shifts once more to check on Dutton.

“Sorry about that,” he mutters, side-eyeing me. He shudders once while facing forward then sets his fist to his mouth and coughs. A sharp, barking kind of cough that wracks his entire body. He bends forward as if curling into himself as the hacking continues harsh and deep. Once the spell passes, he sits upright, swipes at his mouth, and tips his head back. He closes his eyes.

“Are you sick?” I question. A fever would be difficult to detect without taking the liberty to touch his forehead. Something tells me Clay would not appreciate my hand on his face.

“Just a cough,” he mumbles, his voice still ragged and rough. He swallows hard, and I watch his Adam’s apple roll along his throat.

There is nothing just about his cough. He could have bronchitis or pneumonia or the flu.

“I work at the Sylver Seed & Soil,” he states, like I didn’t know, muttering the address just outside of Sterling Falls. “You can drop me there.”

I silently nod, turning off the hazards, and releasing the parking brake. Giving another quick glance at Clay, his tense body remains rigid in the passenger seat.

“I’m making a mess of your car.” His voice scratches but his eyes remain closed. He smooths his large hands down his thighs, covered in soaked denim. His body shudders once more.

“No worries,” I whisper, not half as concerned for my front seat as I am for the man sitting beside me. In the darkness around us, the glow of dashboard lights offers the only illumination, making it difficult to determine if Clay is sicker than a simple cold. The roughness of the barking cough suggests he is.

I glance over my shoulder once more to check on Dutton. He’d recently gotten over the flu, and I don’t want him to be ill again.

“I can call one of my brothers.” Clay’s voice has me turning my head, meeting those icy blue eyes once more. His pinched expression suggests he’d rather not call one of them, though.

I don’t know a lot about Clay, but I know his older brother Stone is the local sheriff. One of his younger brothers, Knox, is a firefighter. Unfortunately for me, I’ve been acquainted with each of them through their professions, not as a neighborly citizen of Sterling Falls. Clay also has a brother who owns the local bakery, and a sister named Vale.

“No. I’ll drive you wherever you need to go.” Placing the car in Drive, I cautiously roll onto the mountain highway, curious what Clay was doing out here near midnight. Glancing through the windshield at the slick pavement, I wonder if I should be worried about black ice as the temperature outside has dropped considerably. Or maybe concerned another strike of lightning will burst before us.

“I’m Mavis, by the way.” I clear my throat, noting it isn’t half as strong as the woman making a rash decision to pull over to the side of the road and help a stranded male driver. “Mavis Grant.”

The use of my maiden name with him feels foreign on my tongue when it shouldn’t. I hadn’t been married. Not like everyone thought.

“I know who you are.” His voice is quiet but no less rugged. The tone implies more than recognition of a repeat customer to Sylver Seed & Soil. He knows about my past, or at least the local lore of thirteen months ago.

With Clay’s head tipped back while he spoke and his eyes closed, I want to shut my own as if they can hide me. As if it will make the past disappear and protect me from the blaze of history I’m rushing toward.

I shouldn’t be returning to Sterling Falls, but this was my home despite all that happened. Deep down, I once believed I belonged here. Not on the run. Not hiding. Dutton and I have been hidden for long enough.

My parents encouraged me to move on. Start somewhere new, somewhere fresh. That newness meant remaining in Florida with them. But amid the told-you-so speeches, and the pitying looks, I couldn’t continue living there any longer. We’d overstayed our welcome. It was time to return to the only other place I’d known.

I can only hope Sterling Falls is forgiving and forgetful, unlike the man seated beside me.

+ + +

I don’t take Clay to the Seed & Soil. With him practically passed out in my front seat, mumbling on occasion, and coughing sporadically in a way that wracked his entire body, I drove him to his house. I shouldn’t know where he lives. It made me appear like a stalker that I did, but in a small town, it isn’t unlikely to know where people reside in and around the town limits. Clay owns a rather modern-looking, sprawling ranch-style house. Taking the winding gravel drive, now pocked with puddles, my Jetta jostles cautiously toward the single-story home.

Stopping at the end of the drive, marked by a line of railroad ties, I turn my head to notice a singular light illuminating the front door and a wall of windows facing us. Somewhere within the house another light glows and a thought hits me.

Does Clay have someone in his life?

He didn’t have a wife or steady girlfriend as far as I knew, but a lot can change in a year. I’m hopeful many things are different about me. Still, the soft light offering a welcoming beam from behind the windows has me second guessing my decision to bring Clay here.

Glancing at his slumped body, head resting against the cool glass in a similar fashion to Dutton in the backseat, I argue that I’ve made the right choice.

Clay Sylver is sick.

Unbuckling my seatbelt, I hesitantly reach for Clay, gently placing a hand on his shoulder and jiggling him.

“Clay.” My voice is too quiet, not loud enough to rouse a sleeping man. “Clay, hon—” I quickly cut myself off from continuing the gentle endearment, as if we are more familiar with one another.