Can't Breathe: A Novella

Can't Breathe: Prologue

Still...his momma raised him better.  Florence Poole had a sixth sense when it came to her children’s going ons.  Even if no one else knew he ignored this deserted woman, his momma would find out.  And that won’t be a pretty conversation.

Brent exhaled heavily.  Already, she managed to cover a lot of ground while he stood there like a lump on a log and deliberated.  He got back in his car and drove up to her.  She slowed down as he rolled down the passenger window.  “Can I give you a lift?” he asked.  She bent to peer through the window at him.

 “Really, I don’t want to be any trouble.  I’m not going far.  I’ll be fine,” she insisted.

Brent reached across and jerked the door open for her.  “It’s no trouble,” he said, leaning over the seat and smiling.  “Besides, my mother will find out I left you here, and then I won’t get invited to Christmas dinner this year.  Do you want that on your conscious?  I’ll be missing out on some of the best apple pie if you turn me down.”

A small smile curved her lips, and Brent thought it was the prettiest smile he’d ever seen because there was a lot of pain in that meager attempt at cheer.  She slid into the seat, tucking her purse at her feet and closed the door.  “A mother’s suffering is not something to thumb your nose at,” she said simply, but he got a funny feeling it had a deeper meaning.

 “I’m Brent Poole,” he introduced himself as he shifted the vehicle into drive and eased off the brake pedal.

“Robin Brooks,” she replied, and her name triggered something in his brain, but he couldn’t grasp at it.  “Thank you, again.  Your mother will be very proud of you.”

Brent laughed.  “You say that as if you’ve some experience with being a mother,” he told her.

 “Some,” she said, looking out her window.

 “Are you married?” he inquired, and then wished he kept his mouth shut.  It didn’t really matter one way or the other.  He was just a good Samaritan...a chauffeur for a person in need...that was it.

“No,” she said softly.  “I never married.”

He glanced at her.  Why should such a sorrow-filled statement cause a rush of warmth in him?  So, she never married.  And she had “some” experience as a mother...and she recently acquired some extra funds.  And every bit of that information about Robin Brooks brought a glimpse of sadness in her eyes.  

He began to wonder if his life was about to change after meeting this woman.

*****

 “Turn here,” Robin pointed to a gravel road off of the county highway.  A rusty, iron gate marked the entrance to Mount Olive Cemetery.  She chose this place to lay Lucy to rest because of its obscurity.  And because Lucy would have loved the dogwoods that bloomed and lined the property.

 “Here?” Deputy Poole asked in a confused voice.

“Yes,” Robin said.  “I’ll walk from here.”  She unbuckled her seat belt and opened the car as a drizzle began misting over the windshield.  “Thank you for the ride.”

He jerked the gear shift into the park position and peered out of the windshield at the block letters on the gate.  “I thought you said you were meeting someone.”

“I am,” Robin said, just wanting to go see Lucy and leave his company.  He hadn’t stared at her scars once -- oh, he saw them, but he didn’t gawk and ask uncomfortable questions, and that disturbed her.  He disturbed her.

He was a handsome man with jet black hair sprinkled with gray at the temples and warm brown eyes.  And his benevolence pierced her heart.  It hadn’t been pity that drove her here.  Deputy Brent Poole was a gentleman, through and through, even to the point of fearing his mother if he didn’t act accordingly.