Page 31 of In a Word, Yes

“Well said!”

I force a smile. “Wait till you see it in October.” Already autumnmagic is in the air. I click my pen a few times. “So, anyway, you moved your family here?” I’m poised to take down all the particulars. What does his wife do? Kids in the local schools? Their ages?

“It’s just Moby and me.”

Note taken.

“But it’s small potatoes, right?” I say. “I mean, compared to where you’ve been—the size of the force, the kinds of cases?” Not that Charity Falls doesn’t have its share of real problems. We lampoon a select few in the “Sheriff’s Calls” column just to keep things light.

“Yes. But you see, Lucy ... may I call you Lucy?” Here, he laces his fingers and leans closer. His amber eyes are somehow both kind and piercing. Like the guy in that movie. The one—gah, I’m terrible at movie star stuff. Can’t think of it.

Pen to paper. He’s talking.

“...that I’ve got a more specific calling,” he’s saying. “I’m talking about me, personally. A calling that goes beyond my job description. See, I can never right all the wrongs out there. So the size of the town doesn’t matter.” He gazes out the window, selecting his next words thoughtfully. “What Icando is support a few deputies so that together we can keep doing the good work. So there isn’t collateral damage in our lives, if you know what I mean.”

I look up from my notebook.

“Yeah, I can tell you do,” he says. “The work matters, of course. But what mattersto meis that we stay healthy, that we don’t succumb to the forces that would render us powerless.”

“‘The forces’? Mind expanding on that?”

He sighs. “In a word, hopelessness. In our line of work, we see a lot. Frankly, we see too much. You know, Lucy, I’m actually not sure all of this should go in the article.”

I’m entertaining the same thoughts. “Understood. In fact, you should know I’m really just a front desk girl and proofreader. A far cry from hard-nosed investigative journalism.Which is the way I like it, to be honest. Unless of course you’ve got firewood or a used snowblower you’d like to sell. In that case, I’m your girl.”I’m your girl? Sheesh.“I mean, I sense there’s more to the story”—the lieutenant lets out a breath that’s part laugh—“but that doesn’t mean it needs to be told. Not in the paper, anyway.”

“Thank you. I trust you. I’d prefer to be an open book, but here’s the thing. I need to reserve that for my new squad. They need to know there’s someone they can talk to, someone they can trust to be real with them. A place of safety. For men and women in law enforcement, or any first responder services, that’s not easy to find. It’ll take a while for me to establish that kind of culture here.”

Well. This interview sure took an unexpected turn somewhere back there. Cue Lady Gaga. We’re far from the shallows now.

The lieutenant narrows his gaze. “‘It’s easier to say, “My tooth is aching” than to say, “My heart is broken,”’ you know?”

“So true. Is that—”

“C.S. Lewis.”

This guy is shattering my stereotypes at breakneck speed.

Wyatt continues. “‘The frequent attempt to conceal mental pain increases the burden.’ That’s Lewis also. And that’s where most first-responders live every single day. Trying to ignore the burden. Denying it. Until...”

For the briefest moment, Lieutenant Hayes’s mind appears to travel somewhere else. Miles away. He shakes his head as if dislodging a thought. “Anyway, where were we? Guess I got us off track.”

“Plants,” I say.

“I’m sorry?”

“Your office. I’m just thinking, with your commitment to making others feel safe, you might consider adding houseplants.”

“Think so? Huh. Can’t say I ever thought about it.” Wyatt jots a note on his own pad. “Thanks. I’ll look into it.”

After a moment I say, “Let’s talk about the bikes.”

“Good idea,” he says, relief evident in his smile. He takes a sip of water. “You know, Lucy, you say you’re not a journalist. But it seems to me this is your métier.”

Oh man. What had I been thinking, closing my dictionary app?

Eleven

gaffe(n.): an unintentional act or remark causing embarrassment