The Last Honest Man. Lynnette Kent

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СКАЧАТЬ them, the guys produced an amazing reel of tunes, from romantic to rowdy, while she sat and marveled at their combined talent. “You two are incredible,” she said when the music came to an end. “I had no idea either of you was this good.”

      Adam shrugged and Dixon grinned. “Just a couple of good ol’ boys, pickin’ and hummin’.”

      “Right.” Dixon wrote songs for a living, among them some of the most popular recordings on the charts. “Can I make a request?”

      “Do we know it?”

      “Doesn’t everybody? I’d like to hear ‘I’m So Lonesome I Could Cry.’”

      Dixon started the chords, but Adam stirred in his chair. “That’s a s-s-sad one.”

      Kate leaned forward to put her hand on his. “I’ve never heard you sing it. Please?”

      With a tilt of his head, Adam gave in. On this song, Dixon joined in with harmony. Phoebe felt tears gather, and fall, as the two men sang the day into night with Hank Williams’s poignant words.

      A long silence followed the final notes. Finally, Phoebe wiped her eyes. There weren’t words to describe how she felt. “Thank you.”

      “Anytime.” With a squeeze of Kate’s fingers, Dixon propped his hands on his knees and pushed himself to his feet. “The kids will be home in about an hour, so I guess we’d better get there to meet them.” Kate’s children had spent the weekend with her ex-husband and their father, L. T. LaRue.

      Adam stood, as well, evidently prepared to take his own leave. Phoebe smothered her disappointment. She’d been hoping he would stay for a while and give her a chance to ask what had been bothering him when he arrived.

      By luck or by his intent, Adam did stay to see Dixon and Kate drive away and only then turned to her with his own goodbye. “I-it’s b-been n-nice. Th-thanks for letting m-me stay.”

      “You’re more than welcome. I wondered what h-had upset you. Why you c-came out.” Her tension was bringing back her own stutter.

      Adam didn’t seem to notice. He shoved his fists into his pockets and looked away. “W-went to d-d-dinner at m-my p-p-parents’, who are p-p-pissed that I didn’t t-talk the c-campaign over with them f-first. They implied I was s-sure to lose, and I g-got p-pissed, too.”

      Phoebe kept her indignation to herself. “I would think so. There’s no reason you can’t win this election.”

      “M-my d-d-difficulty, as m-my m-m-mother calls it, w-will g-get in the way.”

      “So we’ll work on that. I think you can do it.” Phoebe put her hand on his bare wrist, desperately trying to ignore the warmth of his tanned skin against her palm.

      Adam brought his hand to her cheek. “Wh-when I’m out h-here, s-so d-do I. I g-guess that’s why I came. You help me believe.” He gazed at her for a long moment, and his touch lightened, as if he were about to step away. Suddenly, though, he tilted her face up with his palm and gave her a smile. “You’re s-something sp-special, Phoebe Moss.”

      He was going to kiss her. That would be heaven…and a complete disaster.

      She backed away from him, turning toward the pasture as if the horses had made a noise she had to check out. “The singing…you know, quite a large percentage of people who stutter can sing clearly.”

      “That’s what I’ve read.”

      “You could use that as you practice—sing the words instead of saying them, gradually working to decrease the tune and simply talk.” Keeping her own words clear was a challenge tonight—she felt herself falling into the stutter. Eyes on the horses, Phoebe focused on staying relaxed.

      “I’ll work on that.”

      “So you’ll be here T-Tuesday night? Seven-thirty?” Still, she didn’t look at him.

      After a long silence, Adam cleared his throat. “C-count on it. I-I’ll l-lock the g-gate.” His footsteps crunched on the gravel drive, his truck door squeaked open and slammed shut.

      At that sound, she felt safe to look over, and she watched until his taillights disappeared in the dark.

      ADAM FIGURED PHOEBE WOULD have finished dinner when he arrived Tuesday evening, so he stopped by the Carolina Diner for something to eat before driving out of town. Unlike last week, business was slow, and Abby came out right away with his iced tea.

      “F-fried ch-chicken,” he told her. “I’m f-feeling tr-traditional t-tonight. With m-mashed potatoes and gr-green beans.”

      “The perfect Southern dinner,” she agreed. “You want white and dark meat, right?”

      “R-right.”

      She nodded and made a note on her pad, then leaned her hip against the opposite side of the booth. “I hadn’t heard until today that you’d decided to run for mayor.”

      “Y-you m-must’ve been the l-last one to find out.”

      Her brown eyes crinkled as she laughed. “Not easy keeping secrets in this town. I just wanted to say I’m proud of you. We could use somebody with a sense of decency running New Skye for a change.” A car door slammed outside and she glanced through the window. “Damn. Speak of the devil. I’ll get your meal. You—” she poked a finger into his shoulder “—stay out of trouble.”

      He wasn’t sure what she meant until L. T. LaRue’s hearty voice carried through the door. “Yessirree, got the steel on its way and the ’dozers headed out there tomorrow morning. I’m getting this show on the road.”

      The doorbell jingled and several people walked in. Seated with his back to the door, Adam didn’t turn around. With any luck, LaRue and his friends would sit over on the far side of the diner, and he could ignore the fact they’d ever been here.

      LaRue, however, was not a man to leave well enough alone. While the rest of the group sat down, L.T. appeared beside Adam’s table. “Well, well, if it isn’t our fledgling candidate. Eating by yourself, DeVries? That’s no way to win an election.”

      Adam relaxed his right hand. “I-I’m n-not p-planning to f-feed the whole t-town t-to get e-e-elected.”

      LaRue crossed his arms and propped his hip against the same place Abby had. “That so? And just how are you planning to get elected?”

      “B-by g-giving the v-v-voters an h-honest candidate and the opportunity to ch-choose a m-mayor who w-won’t use his office to m-make m-money. I’ll offer them a m-mayor who d-doesn’t take kickbacks for st-steering city b-business to his f-f-friends.”

      “You think that’s what they want?”

      “I-I do.”

      The other man shook his head. “I think what the voters want is a mayor who can deliver—deliver goods, deliver services, deliver the kind of life they expect to live in this town.” He slapped his hand against Adam’s table as he straightened up. “Not to mention deliver a speech they have half a prayer of understanding. Enjoy your dinner, DeVries.”

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