Chapter 29

“Who’s Lewis? Was he your, uh, was he your boyfriend?”

“Who told you about Lewis?”

“There was a postcard.” He cleared his throat. “It’s right there on your hall table.”

“Oh…right.” I reached for my cup of coffee, feeling a little embarrassed. I’d followed Lewis here on a whim, only to have him walk out on me. “He was my boyfriend, yes. He left last year.” I glanced back at Hank’s serious face. “Lewis wasn’t much of a country man. He’s living in New York City now…. He’s a complicated guy. A poet. You know—melancholic and restless, always looking for a perfect world he doesn’t know how to create for himself.”

Hank listened, not saying a word.

His attention helped me clear my own thoughts. “See, I grew up real sheltered, raised by my mother and then my grandmother, and I was kind of ostracized by the other kids at school. ‘Cause, hey, being a gay ginger and the only kid in school without a dad wasn’t the easiest thing.”

“Oh…where was your old man?”