Читать книгу Austin: Second Chance Cowboy - Shelley Galloway - Страница 14

Chapter Six

His first Alcoholics Anonymous meeting was in a smallish Sunday school classroom in the back of the church. Austin strode in with five minutes to spare and feeling more nervous than the moment when the chute flew open and he was sitting bareback on a horse with an attitude.

Could he do this? Everything inside of him was screaming no, he could not. But his head seemed to be in control for once and kept him firmly in tow. The entrance area was empty. The only sign of recent life was a neat rectangular-shaped whiteboard. On it, the daily schedule listed a whole slew of meetings and coordinating rooms.

Nowhere could he find a listing for the AA meeting.

Flummoxed, he pulled the sheet of paper where he’d written the meeting’s date, time and place. Yep, he was in the right place at the right time on the right day.

Deciding to go another route, he glanced at the times. At seven o’clock, there was a meeting for Friends of Bill W. in Room 11. Vaguely he recalled hearing that was the code for the meeting.

Seeing shadows approaching on the sidewalk, he knew it was time to make a move. He could either walk down to the meeting, or he could make up a bunch of lies to the people who entered, and to himself. He’d definitely lied about his goals and intents before.

But then he remembered Dinah and the way she’d trotted off in a huff. He recalled the disdain he was sure he’d spotted in her holier-than-thou hazel eyes.

Finally he remembered that he’d woken up not too long ago with a phone call from a woman he didn’t recall talking about events he didn’t remember. If he didn’t change his ways soon, he knew there was a good chance that the next phone call he got wasn’t going to be as kind, and that the events were going to be a lot different than being rowdy and disgusting at a local bar.

That fear was enough to propel him down the hall. Door 11 was open and there were seven or eight men and women either talking or sitting quietly. He paused at the doorway, suddenly feeling as if he was back in Sunday school.

A man a good ten years older than him looked his way and paused. “Hi. I’m Alan. Are you here for our meeting?”

“I’m not entirely sure.” He lowered his voice. “I’m here for an AA meeting?” Oh, he hated how he sounded. Like a squeaky, nervous kid.

The way he sounded years ago when he and Cheyenne went to visit his dad in prison.

But if Alan thought he was a weak-willed wuss, he didn’t act like it. Instead he nodded in a relaxed, easygoing way. As though Austin had asked if he thought it might rain. “You’re in the right spot. First meeting?”

“Yep.” As if it wasn’t obvious.

“I’m glad you came. You made the right decision.”

Gathering more courage than it had ever taken him to climb on the back of a temperamental bronc, he said, “We’ll see about that.” Already he was thinking about exiting out of there quickly.

“No one’s going to make you say a word.” Alan smiled encouragingly. “But you can talk if you want to.”

“I think I’ll just do the watch-and-listen thing.”

“Good enough.” He stepped backward and let Austin walk on in.

He hesitated, then continued forward. Hoping all the while that he would learn the secret to sobriety. ’Cause he was already so nervous, his mouth was near parched. And the only thing that sounded as if it could quench his thirst involved Kentucky Bourbon.

There were chairs set up in a circle. Too ashamed to see anyone he knew, he took a chair in the middle of three empty ones, then immediately regretted his decision. Did sitting by himself make him stand out even more?