Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 92688 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92688 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
Not that it had really mattered, since his parents had been loaded.
But I suspected it had been more about the prestige than anything else. Especially since everyone had known Dallas’s goal in life had been to make it to the Major Leagues.
My mother’s eyes lifted to meet mine briefly. “He never left, dear. It happened the summer after you all graduated.”
I swallowed hard. Dallas hadn’t gotten out? He’d been stuck here for ten long years? How was that even possible? And drinking? I couldn’t believe that, because Dallas had been the kind of guy whose sole focus in life had been baseball, and he’d been careful about taking care of himself.
But of course, I’d never really known him…just drooled over him from afar. It was reasonable to say I’d painted this perfect, but unrealistic, picture of him in my head.
“What happened?” I prodded, since my mother had fallen silent.
“Well, they found the car at the bottom of the ravine leading up to their house. All three of them had been thrown from it,” she said. “Poor Mrs. Kent didn’t make it out of that ravine,” she added.
“And his father?”
“A shame, what happened to him,” she said with a cluck of her tongue. “Spent the rest of his life in a wheelchair. Died two years later from a blood clot or something…Edith says it was probably a complication from the accident.”
My mother’s best friend had been a nurse before retiring, so I didn’t doubt she was full of opinions about the whole thing, especially since she was as bad of a gossip as my mother.
“And Dallas?” I asked.
“All the pain that boy caused and he was the only one to survive.”
I bristled at her words. “Just because he was driving didn’t mean he deserved to die,” I bit out.
“Now don’t go puttin’ words into my mouth,” she returned. “I’m just saying he should’ve known better. Those Kents were good people. Raised those boys right.”
I knew she was talking about Dallas and his older brother, Maddox.
“How did he lose his voice?”
My mother didn’t ask how I knew about Dallas’s condition. “Edith heard from a nurse friend that a piece of the car went through his throat. Nearly killed him. Doctors saved him, though. He was in the hospital for months. Didn’t even wake up until long after they’d buried his mama.” My mother shook her head. “His daddy begged the cops to go easy on him. Said Dallas was paying enough for what he done. The Good Lord will judge that boy,” she added.
“Did he go to jail?” I asked.
She shook her head. “Sheriff Tulley had a new deputy that summer. He forgot to ask the doctors to get proof that Dallas had been drinking. His daddy confirmed he was, but wouldn’t say how much. Edith figured he was trying to protect his boy.”
I wanted to point out that if that were true, he wouldn’t have told anyone his son had been drinking in the first place. But I wisely kept my mouth shut.
“Reverend Pickney says Dallas got what he deserved anyhow, so people didn’t put up much of a fuss.”
I straightened at that. “What does that even mean?”
She looked at me over her glasses and shrugged her shoulders, but didn’t respond.
“So, what? Dallas deserved to lose his voice and God knows what else? That it was God’s punishment for the accident?”
Another shrug of her shoulders.
God, no wonder I hated fucking Pelican Bay so much.
“What about his brother?”
I knew that Maddox Kent had been accepted to West Point four years before Dallas and I had graduated.
“He came home long enough to take care of his daddy while Dallas was in the hospital. He left again just as soon as that boy got out. Edith went over there once to check on Mr. Kent and heard Maddox yelling at Dallas – she says Maddox told his brother he was the one who should’ve died, not their mama.”
Revulsion curled through me as I considered her words.
Even if the rumor that Dallas had been drinking was true, it didn’t mean he’d deserved the harsh treatment he’d gotten. Not from the town, and most certainly not from his brother.
“How did he end up running the wildlife center?” I asked.
My mother shook her head. “No idea. We thought he’d left town after his daddy died, but he just sold the house and bought the old McClaren farm and made it that” – she waved her fingers – “place.” She paused before saying, “Still managed to get his half of his mama and daddy’s money, I guess. Edith’s daughter works for a lawyer down in the Twin Cities…says Maddox sued his brother for all of the money but lost. Guess Dallas took his share and did whatever he wanted with it. He should’ve given it to charity or something.” Another shake of her head.