Three Can Keep a Secret by Judy Clemens Page B

and Lucy watched with sadness in her eyes.
    “Do you have children, Lenny?” Lucy asked suddenly. “You seem so comfortable with Tess.”
    He avoided her eyes by looking out at his bike and then at the ketchup on the table. “No, ma’am. It’s just me. Well, me and Bart, but that’s different.”
    She wrinkled her nose at him, confused.
    “I mean, we’re not family or anything, but he’s the closest thing I come to it. I mean…never mind.”
    I wondered what on earth made him so jittery about a simple question, but I soon figured out, from the blush creeping up his face, that it was the person asking the question rather than the question itself. His eyes darted toward Lucy, who was acting weird and self-conscious herself, picking at something non-existent on the table. Lenny’s leg started jerking up and down, shaking the floor.
    “Good lord, Lenny,” I said under my breath. “You trying to start an earthquake?”
    His leg stilled. “Sorry. I’m not used to people actually caring about my personal life.”
    “Come on, Len,” I said. “You know I’m only interested in you for your body.”
    He blinked, then finally laughed, and the tension at our table dissipated. Tess had been oblivious all along.
    The rest of the meal passed in stilted but friendly conversation about bikes, Mennonites, and Lucy’s farming experience. Lenny somehow picked up that he shouldn’t ask anything about Tess’ father, and we were soon pushing our plates toward the waitress. We all declined coffee, Lenny paid the bill, and Tess and I clambered into the pickup after thanking Lenny.
    Lucy stayed outside to talk with Lenny while he unlocked his bike. I turned my radio on low so Tom Petty could drown out whatever conversation they were having, but I didn’t need to hear anything to see that Lenny was giving his bike a more thorough than necessary inspection, and that once again he was studying Suzy’s parking lot across the street.
    It was also apparent that Lucy was feeling awkward and shy. If the words written on our garage had any truth to them, I’d be incredibly surprised. She looked like a teen-ager, not sure how to stand or where to put her hands while she was talking. If she was as promiscuous as the graffiti indicated, she’d have no such problems.
    Finally, Lenny straddled his bike and Lucy slid into the truck. She belted herself in and gazed straight ahead, an ambiguous expression on her face.
    Lenny waited with a concerned expression until the truck came to life, then started his bike. I gestured for him to take the lead. He rode ahead of us for a few miles before we parted ways, him toward his home in Perkasie, and us toward the farm.
    I swear Lucy’s eyes never left his taillight.

Chapter Seventeen
    The first sound I heard when I stepped down from my truck was the high keening of labor pains. This is unusual, so I knew something had gone wrong with Poppy’s delivery.
    Lucy caught my eye over the hood of the truck. “Let me get Tess to bed, and I’ll be right out.”
    I looked at Tess, rubbing her eyes, sleep lines on her face from dozing on Lucy’s shoulder. “Take your time. I’ve seen it all before.”
    While Lucy led her sleepy charge toward the garage, I dodged Queenie’s excited jumping and jogged inside—slowing to a walk when my ribs reminded me of their existence—to change into delivering clothes. Most likely everything would go smoothly and Poppy was just being a baby, but no matter what happened I was bound to get splashed with blood, urine, and an ungodly amount of other bodily fluids. That didn’t bother me, but there was no reason to get one of my two pairs of nice jeans stained. I wasn’t going to have money to buy new ones in the foreseeable future.
    The light on my phone was flashing when I got into the kitchen, but I didn’t feel like taking the time to listen to any messages. The clock on the oven said it was already close to my usual bedtime of nine-o’clock, so whoever it was