Now he had to deal with his tears as they began to flow like a river.
Jed held his hanky to his eyes and sobbed, quietly, for at least a minute.
The other drinkers in the bar glanced over but did not leave their table to investigate. I suspected that they knew why he was crying, as they were probably locals, and thus knew how Jed felt about Chantelle. It was not a huge leap to imagine that being a stranger in town they also knew where I was staying.
I leaned over and patted Jed’s arm. “I’m sorry old son,” I said, “if it’s too traumatic for you to continue then I completely understand.”
But Jed shook his head, and blew his nose once more, before continuing. “No, that’s the worst of it. That poor, lovely girl came to us because she trusted us, felt safe here, and we let her down in a mos
