I knew that already, but to realize someone else had figured it out made my mouth drop.
Mr. Carter's chest heaved as he laughed again. "There's no one I trust more to give a loan to. Heck, I'd lend Dean the whole bank if I could. But only because I know he's one that'll pay it back." The man elbowed me lightly in the ribs then.
"Didn't know your dad had such good standing, did you?" I shook my head and felt dumb as I said, "No, sir." Mr. Carter sighed. "Yes, Dean's a quiet one. But he always gets done what needs doing. You know what I like best about him?"
I shook my head again, completely baffled.
"I like that he doesn't act all hoity-toity like some families around here. By the way some people in this town carry on, you'd think they owned the whole county when none of them have half the investments your father has." 234
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I had to concentrate to keep my mouth from falling open again. Yes, my dad was definitely a quiet one. He'd kept quiet about his "good standing" at the bank so well his own family didn't know what we had.
"Now, come eat some supper with us, Carrie," Mr. Carter said, as he drew me along behind him, "so I can pry the name of this secret poet out of you." I pulled to a halt. "Secret poet?"
"Oh, yes." Mrs. Carter came up beside us. She looked excited. "We're all avid readers of The Central Record here. We're just dying to know who's been writing those beautiful poems."
"Do you like them?" I glanced at Luke before looking at his parents. And the shock I read on his face told me their affection for his poems was news to him.
"Like them? Why, I love them," Mrs. Carter said. Mr. Carter shook his head. "I can't believe someone from Stillburrow is actually that good. I've never seen such talent around these parts. And I don't even like poetry." He pounded a fist to his chest. "But something about those poems gets me right here."
Suddenly, I grinned. "Well, I'm sorry. But I can't tell you who it is." I bit my lip as I glanced from a blushing Luke to his parents. "I'm sworn to secrecy."
"I told you so."
I opened my eyes and glanced up. Lying on the Carter's couch with Luke behind me, I pressed my back more snugly against his chest and he wrapped his hand around my waist. Supper had been wonderful. The Carter parents continued 235
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their attempt to coax the secret poet's name out of me as Luke played footsie with me under the table. Yes, I had to admit, I really liked Luke's mom and dad. I'd been so sure they would be snobs and freeze me out. I was glad to be wrong.
After supper, Luke led me into the den so we could rest on the sofa. I closed my eyes, guilty about being thankful I wasn't home where I had to watch my brother's pain.
"What'd you tell me so?" I said. I was still in shock, but I was quickly getting used to this new state. I wasn't worthless. My family wasn't poverty stricken, and I was good enough to date Luke Carter. I'm not sure how I'd ever gotten myself so mixed up into believing everyone else was better than me. Maybe it had been my mother's own mistaken beliefs that had rubbed off. But I was glad it wasn't sticking.
"I told you my parents weren't that bad and you were worrying over nothing."
I snorted. He felt warm and comfortable snuggled up behind me. "You did not tell me that."
"Oh, yes, I did," he said.
I shook my head. "All you said to me was, 'Get out of the car.'"
"No. That's not what I said." He paused. "Was it?"
"That's exactly what you said."
"Oh, well." I felt him shrug. "I meant to say my parents weren't as awful as you thought."
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I laughed and covered his hand with mine, interweaving our fingers. "You're such a liar," I murmured and rubbed my cheek against his.
I felt his smile. "I love you too." For a moment, neither of us said anything. We simply soaked in the feel of each other. Then I turned so I could face him. I rested my chin on his arm. "So much has changed," I said.
Luke reached up and slid a piece of my hair behind my ear.
"I know."
"Abby Eggrow's dead and Marty's going to have to get over that." At Luke's nod, I went on. "We're officially a couple." I nestled my cheek against his chest and stared up at the ceiling. "I'm acing my trigonometry tests. And you're the best writer in town. Two months ago, none of that was true. Two months ago, everything was normal."
"Do you wish it were that way again?" I shrugged. "What's the use? It can't be." Luke touched my face with his thumb. "But what would you change if you could?"
When I glanced up at him, I saw the uncertainty in his eyes. He was actually worried I would want to change being with him. It gave me a silent thrill to know someone liked me that much, that he really loved me for me. And I was completely serious when I said, "This may sound awful. But if everything that's happened, happened so I could end up here like this with you, then I wouldn't change a thing."
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He smiled and kissed me lightly. When he pulled back, his eyes were shining. "That does sound pretty bad," he said. I elbowed him in the ribs and he grunted, only to come back and tickle me. I tried to wiggle away and control the urge to laugh, but it ended up we made quite a commotion. Rolling off the sofa in our scuffle, we both landed on the floor. Luke grabbed my wrists, so I couldn't attack him. Then he loomed over me so he could say, "But I feel the same way." My breath caught in my chest as I stared up at him. He was so beautiful, his nose, his eyes and his dimple—even the scar at the corner of his eyebrow—seemed like they were perfectly placed to make this outstanding creature for me. Luke Carter was destined for great things. And he was going to be by my side through them all.
He'd turned me, Carrie Paxton—the Nobody of Stillburrow—into Carrie Paxton, editor of the school paper. And he was going to turn Stillburrow—a dead-end town in the middle of nowhere—into the childhood city of a famous poet. It suddenly reminded me of Abby Eggrow and history class. I looked up at Luke. "Ever heard of Appomattox Court House?" I asked.
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A word about the author...
Linda grew up on a dairy farm in the Midwest as the youngest of eight children. Now she lives in Kansas with her husband and nine cuckoo clocks. She works in a library and has always loved books: reading, writing, and organizing them. The Stillburrow Crush is her first story published by The Wild Rose Press.
Visit her at www.lindakage.com
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