“Protecting little kids, that’s… that’s like a superhero,” Ginny said. She stared at Dick with the same awestruck look as Lynette.
Oh, crap. Now Chase had two sisters falling all over themselves to get Dick’s attention.
But the description of Dick as a superhero had stuck, for a while at least. And Chase had a hard time living up to it. That was why he’d majored in criminal justice and joined the local police force. To compete as best he could with Dick’s image as a superhero.
Good thing neither of Chase’s sisters had followed through with their crush on Dick. Lynette had gone off to college in Spokane and married a classmate-a computer nerd who’d developed a specialized database for farmers and ranchers and made a lot of money. They had two kids now and lived on a small farm near Spokane. Ginny had a degree in restaurant management and still worked at the diner, planning on taking it over when the folks retired. She was dating the son of their landlord. He hoped she genuinely liked him and wasn’t doing it “for the business.”
Chase knew that if he ever got up the nerve to ask Dusty out on a real date, he’d be thinking of more important things than business.
Maybe he should stop by the museum later and make sure she got home okay. She’d be tired after a long day and the parade and all. She’d forget to eat.
Sounded like a good excuse to get takeout and surprise her.
Fourteen
“DUSTY, YOU HAVE TO COME OUT of that corner,” M’velle insisted. She stood, frowning down, with feet planted and hands on hips.
Dusty peeked up at her, keeping her head on her knees and her arms wrapped around her legs. And her butt firmly planted on the floor. “I… I can’t.”
She’d gotten as far as changing from her sweaty calico costume back into her navy skirt and an ice-blue shell. Then her knees had wobbled and her tummy roiled in uncertainty.
And fear. Her hands shook and sweat poured down her back and under her arms. “What if… what if…?”
“Nonsense. You can get up. And you will. You have a date with that handsome man in half an hour,” M’velle insisted.
“I can’t do it. I can’t go out with him.”
“Why ever not? He’s buying you dinner at that awesome new restaurant downtown. Even if you decide you don’t like him, you’ll get a free meal out of it,” Meggie added, entering the museum employee lounge.
“But… but… what if he doesn’t like me?” Dusty shivered in fear. She needed more information. Where was Thistle and her endless stream of gossip when Dusty needed her?
Ages ago, when Dick had first started dating, Thistle would come to her room and tell her all about the girl, from the color of her lipstick to the brand of toothpaste she didn’t use and should.
Thistle’s gossip was unerring. She and Dusty predicted how long each romance would last. Thistle was always right.
So Dusty should cancel the date with Hay because Thistle felt “funny” around him. Shouldn’t she? But “feeling funny” didn’t add up to a snorty laugh, or shopaholic habits, or high maintenance “pay attention to me” attitudes, or a refusal to go to Norton’s after the school dance because it was too inexpensive or low class.
Neither Thistle nor Dusty knew anything about the man other than his handsome face and glorious smile. At least he brushed his teeth. He had to in order to maintain those brilliant teeth.
“So what if he doesn’t like you? You’ll get a free meal out of it,” M’Velle confirmed.
“And you’ll never know if you like him, or if he likes you, unless you go out with him,” Meggie said. “Here, take a sip of this. It will help. I promise.” She held out a miniature bottle filled with amber liquid.
“What is that?” Dusty lifted her head enough to peer suspiciously at the bottle.
“Scotch. I found it in Mr. Newberry’s bottom desk drawer.” Meggie unscrewed the cap and offered the bottle to Dusty.
“How do you know it will help?” Dusty asked. She kept her hands firmly clamped around her legs. “You aren’t old enough to drink scotch.”
“That’s what my dad says. He calls it Dutch courage. Though I guess it should be Scottish courage.” Meggie pried Dusty’s fingers open enough to slip the bottle behind them. “It’s dusty, so Mr. Newberry has had it hidden for a long time. He shouldn’t miss it from the back of the bottom desk drawer.”
“So how did you know to look there?” Dusty asked, pushing her panic aside long enough to act like the adult. Maybe the scotch would give her enough… false courage to stand up and go home. She couldn’t sit here all night quaking in fear, her knees too watery to hold her up.
Mom was due to call tonight. Again. She’d be worried if Dusty didn’t answer the phone.
She took one cautious sip, holding the liquor in her mouth a moment before she could force herself to swallow. A hint of flowers lingered where the scotch touched her tongue. Warmth crept outward.
Then she let the liquid slide down her throat. It hit her stomach with explosive force, burning all the way back up to her mouth. Her eyes opened wide with surprise, and her mouth gaped, trying to breathe flame.
And miraculously that hint of flowers returned as a gentle reminder of the wonders of the drink.
Feeling returned to her cramped knees, and her hands stopped shaking. She took another sip with only slightly less spectacular results.
“I could get used to this.”
“Don’t.” M’velle crouched before her, placing one hand over the bottle so Dusty couldn’t drink again. “It’s dangerous to rely on it. Good only in emergencies. That’s what Mr. Newberry used it for, but he hasn’t needed it in a long time. Now this is an emergency. Can you stand up?”
Dusty nodded.
The girls each got a hand beneath one of her elbows and heaved her upward. Dusty swayed, leaning heavily against Meggie, the taller and stronger of the girls. Her head spun. But she kept the tiny bottle inside her fierce grip.
“Now that you are willing to listen,” M’velle demanded her attention. “You need to go on this date, Dusty. If you don’t go tonight, then you’ll never have the courage to go again. You’ll be left with your mom’s lame and unsuitable fix ups. None of them have worked. This one might.”
“You’ll wind up a withered stick of an old maid before you’re twenty-six,” Meggie added.
“No, Dusty, you don’t have to do this,” Joe said from the doorway. He still wore his calico shirt and canvas pants from the parade. He looked tired and worried. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.” He walked toward her on silent, careful steps. “I’ll take you home. You and me and the girls can make popcorn and watch an old movie. You don’t need this other guy.”
“No, Joe. The girls are right. I have to do this.” Dusty pulled herself up straight, balancing on her own two feet. Her head remained clamped to her shoulders. She looked at the scotch bottle with disdain and a curious longing. Time to put it aside, along with her childish fears.
Memories of her flying dream returned with gentle but persistent jolts. She held the sensation of carefree soaring firmly in her heart.
She’d told Thistle she had to grow up. The time had long passed when Dusty needed to take her own advice.
“We’ll do popcorn and a movie another night. Maybe tomorrow. I think they’re replaying Mary Poppins.”
“Dusty, I…” Joe reached a hand toward her, then dropped it. “Never mind. Do what you have to do.”
“If I don’t go out with Haywood Wheatland tonight, I’ll never go anywhere other than the basement or home, for the rest of my life.” She repeated the girls’ words. Then she patted his shoulder and thrust the bottle of booze into his hand, closing his fingers around it.