One True Heart by Jodi Thomas Page A

see him.
    â€œThe doc called me. I flew in last night.” He noticed that she was thinner than she’d been when he left years ago. “How you doing, Ruthie?”
    He touched her shoulder, letting her know he cared. In truth, she’d always been kind in a quiet, shy way. Even after he was kicked out she left food for him in the fridge on Sunday mornings when he knew his father would be out. He used to sneak back in his room, get clean clothes, and take food packed away in plastic for him. The next week his clothes would be clean and pressed, waiting.
    â€œI’m fine, Beau. Have you seen your father?”
    â€œNot awake.” Beau stuffed his guitar under the desk and followed her through the door. “You mind if I go in with you?”
    She shook her head. “I don’t mind. He doesn’t talk about you like he used to. I don’t think he’s angry anymore. It’s more like he thinks of you as dead.”
    â€œOh, that’s comforting,” Beau answered, wondering if Ruthie was trying to cheer him up. He would bet she’d had to listen to hours of his father raging over a son who had gone bad.
    They walked into the room where his father lay and moved to either side of the bed. Beau observed that Ruthie didn’t touch her husband. They just stood watching him breathe until the nurse poked her head in and told them it was time to leave.
    When they walked out, Beau asked the same question. “How are you doing, Ruthie?”
    â€œI’m . . .” She started to lie, then hesitated and added, “The bank . . .”
    He touched her arm. “I’ll take care of it.”
    She nodded. “He can’t know. He’d be mad if he thought I mentioned it to you.”
    Beau understood. “He won’t.” On impulse Beau leaned in and kissed her cheek. He’d never thought of her as his mother, not even a substitute one, but he did care about her.
    Ten minutes later, he was standing in the bank before he bothered to notice his wrinkled clothes. The black tailored shirt, jeans, and boots no longer looked polished and pressed. He’d lost the leather tie that always held his dark hair back, and two days’ worth of stubble darkened his jaw. He looked so bad the bank probably wouldn’t take his money. In Nashville he was proud to be an outlaw, but here it might not be a good idea to look the part.
    â€œMay I help you, sir?” a suit, who could have played Scrooge in
A Christmas Carol
without bothering with makeup, asked in a cold, professional way. While he waited for Beau to answer he rocked onto his toes as if trying to appear taller, more important. There was a nervousness about him. A clock watcher, Beau guessed.
    Beau decided to bluff his way through. “Yes, I’d like to see the president of the bank.”
    â€œHe’s not here, sir.” The suit lifted his chin as if preparing to die rather than give out more information. “I’m one of the loan officers. I’m sure I can help you with any questions.”
    Beau stood his ground.
    The suit broke first. “I can check with the vice president, if you’ll wait here. She’s new, but maybe she can be of some help.”
    Beau nodded and waited. A minute later the nervous guy came back and pointed in the direction of an open door. He didn’t look interested in making introductions and Beau wondered if he’d even notified the vice president that she had a customer.
    Beau took off his black hat, raked his fingers through hair far too long for Harmony style, and silently walked through the open door.
    For a moment he watched the woman who sat behind the long desk. Though computers banked her on both sides, she concentrated on papers organized in neat piles before her. She was about his age but didn’t resemble anyone he remembered from school. Blond hair, tucked up in a tight knot on top of her head. Dark blue suit, slightly