The bell over the door jingled again and Vance and Wallis Boggs came in. They had been in Patrick’s year at school, but Tripp wasn’t sure what kind of friends they’d been.
Melvin and Bert walked over and they all shook hands. “Damn. It’s good to have you back in Bramble,” Melvin said.
“Yeah, have a cup of coffee with us,” Vance invited.
“Sure,” Tripp replied.
“Got to get back to work,” Melvin said. “Maybe another time.”
“Me, too,” Bert said, and the brothers left.
“Coffee, Rose,” Vance yelled as they sat at a table.
“Keep your britches on, junior. I’ll be there in a minute.”
They talked about casual stuff and Wallis watched Camila out the window. Jilly climbed into the passenger side and they drove off.
“Can I ask y’all a question?” Tripp asked. He wanted answers, but doing this made his gut ache.
“Sure,” they answered simultaneously.
“Do y’all believe that Patrick is Jilly Walker’s father?”
“Hell, man,” Vance snickered. “That’s a million-dollar question. She could be anybody’s.”
“I was gone a lot back then so I don’t know that much about Camila Walker.”
“Every man in Bramble has had her,” Wallis said. “Don’t lose any sleep over it.”
Rose placed the cups of coffee on the table. Tripp gripped his warm cup. “So y’all have slept with her?”
“All the time in high school.” Wallis laughed. “Camila was always an easy lay.”
Tripp stared at Wallis. “Patrick said just the opposite.”
“What do you mean?” His voice became defensive.
“He said she was a nice girl.” He’d heard Patrick tell his parents that many times, to no avail.
Wallis waved a hand. “Patrick believed that about everybody.”
“Yeah.” Tripp shoved back his chair. “Even you boys.”
Vance glared at him. “What does that mean?”
“Anything you want it to.” Tripp walked to the counter, paid for his coffee and the dinners Rose had ready for him. He thanked Rose, picked up the bag and left.
Once you get to know Camila, you’ll soon realize the truth. That’s what Rose had said. He doubted he’d find the truth listening to the rumors in this small town.
He drove through the residential area, taking a shortcut to Lady Luck. He stopped as he saw Jilly lugging a trash can to the road at Mrs. Shynosky’s. Her bike was parked near the house.
As he watched her, something else became clear in his head. He didn’t need a DNA test to prove that Jilly was Patrick’s. All he had to do was look at this little girl and see her loving heart that was open to everyone—just like his brother.
Tripp stopped and got out to help her.
“You didn’t have to do that,” she said, blinking nervously.
“I know, but I wanted to.”
She stared openly at him.
“What?” he asked.
“Did Patrick look like you?”
“Some. We have the same blond hair and blue eyes.”
“That’s what my mama said.” She shuffled her feet. “I’m sorry I bothered you the other day.”
“You didn’t bother me,” he assured her. “It was a pleasure to meet you.”
“Really?” Her dark eyes opened wide.
“Yes. Really.” He smiled. “And you’re welcome at Lady Luck any time.”
She smiled back. “Thanks. I gotta go. Mrs. Shynosky likes me to tell her what’s going on in Bramble. I’ll tell her the cowboy has returned. Bye.”
“Bye, Jilly.” He walked to his truck with a swing in his step.
Yes, Jilly was Patrick’s.
Now he had to convince his parents of that.
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