Free Within a Man's Heart by Tom Winton Page A

Then in a less cheery tone, she added, “Good afternoon, Chris. How have you been?”
    “I’ve been okay, thanks,” I said , forcing myself to look at her as I spoke.
    Not wanting to keep eye contact with her, I glanced down at the small stack of books in her hands. I couldn’t believe what I saw. Here I had thought she was some small-town, provincial girl who probably read fluffy romance paperbacks if anything, and right smack on top of her books was Dostoyevsky’s The Brothers Karamazov . I couldn’t believe it. Nevertheless, blown away as I was, I looked back up at her and said, “Well, good to see you again. Got to be running.”
    Turning back to Carla now, I said, “Thanks so much for your help. I’ll be sure to have this back on time.” 
    Then I did an about face, walked right by Gina without looking at her, and headed for the door.
    “I just wanted to return these on time, Carla,” I heard her say from behind. “Got to hurry home. Dinner’s in the oven.”
    With Gina’s footsteps not far behind my own now on the wooden floor, I had no choice but to hold the door for her after I opened it. It was one of those situations where, had she been just two strides farther away, letting it close wouldn’t have seemed like a rude gesture.
    Her face was serious and those eyes questioning when she walked past the door saying, “Thank you.”
    “Yupper, you bet,” was all I said.
    As she made her way along the narrow walkway toward the sidewalk, I took my time coming down the steps. But when I stepped off the bottom one, she stopped dead. Hesitating a moment, she acted as if she was going to continue walking. But she didn’t. Instead she spun quickly around, narrowed her eyes in a way I hadn’t seen before, and marched right up to me.
    “Damn it to hell,” she stammered, “what is with you, Chris? Why are you acting like you don’t even know me?”
    It no longer mattered whether she was gorgeous, ugly or anywhere in between. For two full weeks , I’d kept my anger, disappointment, and frustration all pent up inside. I had tried my best to deal with the spirit-sucking emotions but hadn’t gotten along very well with any of them. I didn’t want to have a confrontation with her, but there was no getting around that now. Standing face to face in the shade of the trees, I just let it rip.
    “Let me tell you something, lady ! I don’t know you, and you don’t know me. We’re just acquaintances, and I want to leave it that way. Okay? Now leave me alone.”
    Her lower lip started to tremble. I wasn’t sure if it was because she was angry, disappointed or deeply hurt, but I didn’t care —not until I noticed the tears welling up in her eyes.
    “Listen to me.” she stammered. “What happened at the party was nothing! It didn’t mean a thing! He doesn’t mean a thing! Would you please stop acting this way for a minute and listen to me?”
    A truck went by then and the man driving it honked the horn. Obviously he’d recognized Gina from behind. That was a sight no male would easily forget. But she didn’t turn around. She just flung up her hand, gave a quick half-wave, jerked it back down, and leaned closer to my face.
    “No!” I said, as if throwing the word at her. “I’m not going to stand out here and have a screaming match with you.”
    “Nobody’s screaming! Won’t you just listen to me? I didn’t . . . ”
    “Forget it,” I interrupted, “I don’t want to hear anything. I just want to go on with my life. Why don’t you do the same?”
    She didn’t say anything for a moment. She was breathing heavily; just staring at me. Then we both heard a man’s voice shout out, “Gina! You okay?”
    It was the guy who had just driven by us. He was up the road, just beyond the Used Everything shop, standing outside his truck in the parking lot at the general store.
    Gina sniffled one time then turned toward him. Just loud enough for him to hear she said, “I’m fine, Roy, just having a