Chapter 6

Harold Gladstone watched his fourteen-year old granddaughter, Leanne Gladstone, careen down what he knew was her favorite trail in Gladstone Park. He trotted Thor after her, concerned by the wave of sadness he’d felt as she’d passed them.

Apparently reaching her destination, she skidded to a stop and jumped off the bike he understood was called a ten-speed. She was so upset that she just let it fall, and stumbled over to a stone bench in the middle of a peaceful clearing. There was a statue of some deer, around which pretty flowers had been planted. She often came there when she was troubled, or just wanted a little time to herself.

Sitting down, she wrapped her arms around her waist and leaned forward as her shoulders shook from body-wracking sobs. As Harold stopped Thor near her bike, he was taken aback by the anger that mingled with the pain he sensed in her heart. It wasn’t every day he felt a temper like that.

Dismounting, he allowed himself to solidify as he dropped Thor’s reins to the ground.

“What’s his name?”

Leanne gasped and jumped at the sound of his voice, and he felt bad for startling her. He sometimes forgot to ease into a person’s line of sight before greeting them.

“What?” She brushed away her tears, seemingly ashamed that he’d witnessed her misery.

Harold straightened his Stetson and walked around her bike, thinking that he’d like a crack at riding it. Truth was, there were a lot of modern things he’d like to try out. “The feller who broke yer heart. What’s his name?”

“H-how did you know?” Her eyes widened as he walked over to the bench.

“Mind if I join ya?”

Leanne frowned up at him. “I don’t know you. I shouldn’t be talking to you.”

He smiled, his kind, blue eyes crinkling in his handsome face. “Smart girl, but I promise, I don’t mean no harm.”

He felt Leanne trying to figure out why he seemed familiar. “Okay,” she said grudgingly.

Harold sat down with a sigh. “You gonna answer my question?”

“How do you know it’s about a boy? I could be mad about a million things.”

He chuckled at her defiant attitude. “Well, missy, only two things make a woman cry like that; the death of a loved one, or when a man breaks her heart.”

He allowed himself into Leanne’s mind, as she watched the tree branches sway in the summer breeze, while she contemplated answering him. She couldn’t tell her parents, because she wasn’t supposed to have a boyfriend in the first place. Her older brother, Harry, would want to beat Brantley up, which would also mean that her parents would find out. Her little brother, Heath, wouldn’t be any help; and if she mentioned it to her friends, it would get around school.

No matter who she talked to, people would know, and that kind of humiliation was the last thing she wanted or needed. Kids at school already called her a spoiled brat even though she wasn’t. Just because she had nice things, and their family was rich, didn’t mean that she was stuck-up.

She glanced at him and he gave her a patient smile. “If I tell you, do you promise not to tell another single soul as long as you live?”

A smile played around Harold’s mouth for a moment before he sobered. “I swear not to breathe nary a word of it to anyone.”

Drawing in a shaky breath and pushing her vivid red hair out of her gray eyes, she said, “His name is Brantley Terwilliger and he’s my boyfriend.” Her bottom lip trembled. “I caught him kissing another girl.”

Harold hid his anger at the boy. It wasn’t his place to judge the young man, but it made him mad to see his granddaughter hurt so much. “Oh, I see. I’m right sorry about that, but best ya found out now instead of down the road,” he said with quiet sympathy.

“What do you mean?”

Harold leaned back against the bench. “Well, ya like Brantley an awful lot right now, but six months from now, you’d love him; and findin’ out then about his cheatin’ would hurt even more. Or say ya were sweethearts for a long time and ya got married? Finding out then would be downright awful.”

She shrugged. “I guess so. I just don’t understand. He said that I’m pretty and that he really liked me. Why would he kiss someone else then?”

“Problem with most boys his age is that they’re not as grown up as girls are. They’re full of vinegar, and kissin’ pretty girls is ‘most always on their minds. So, they cain’t always stick with just one,” the man said. “Best let boys alone for a few years until ya meet one who’s more mature.”