“No, I don’t think I can go to the Masque Ball with you. I’m chairing the fund-raiser this year and have too many responsibilities to volunteers and friends to properly pay attention to a date,” Dusty said stiffly. Her skin grew cold. Another lie Hay had told her. How had he found out about this delayed call? Oh, my God, he listened over the airwaves! Her vision started crowding in from the edges until all she could see was Thistle’s face.
“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” the tenor voice on the other end of the phone line sputtered. “My mother has been pressuring me for a month to call you because she doesn’t like my girlfriend. A pity date with you had to be better than listening to her whine.”
“Pity Date!” Dusty bit her lip until she drew blood. That small pain helped her focus, removed the gibbering ape that threatened to take control of her mind and her feet.
Run! it said over and over again. Run away from the cancer before you become the cancer. Run away from those who challenge you. Run away from those who only want to hurt you, judge you. Make you less than what you are. Everyone is lying to you. No one can tell the truth.
Hay lied. No one else did.
She ignored the voice, the voice of her cancer trying to protect her from herself. She’d beat the cancer, but not its control over her emotions. Resolutely she settled her shoulders and took a deep breath.
“Ted, you’re welcome to buy a ticket and bring your new girlfriend to the Ball.”
“I just may. Maybe a date with you wouldn’t be about pity, but I really like this girl, in spite of my mother’s opinion.”
“I look forward to meeting you and your friend there,” she said on a laugh. “I hope she’s as much your friend as your girlfriend.” They said good-bye, and she hung up with relief.
Friendship is a two-way street.
“Thistle, friendship carries responsibility and has to be mutual. Trust has to be mutual. So I’m going to be a friend to you as much as you have been to me. I need to do the same for Phelma Jo.”
“Thank you, Dusty.” Moisture made Thistle’s eyes glisten in the dim light. “Phelma Jo?” she asked then, sounding dubious.
“Yes. Before we had that fight on the playground we were friends. I allowed some other kids, more popular and cliquish, to pressure me into calling her a bad name. I should have realized that she stopped bathing for a reason. I should have taken her aside and offered her the chance to take a shower here, with privacy and safety. Instead I called her ‘Stinky Butt’ in front of everyone. I owe her a big apology.”
“First thing in the morning we’ll find her and take care of that.”
“I hope tomorrow is soon enough. But I need to deal with Chase tonight.”
“Yes, you do.”
Dusty looked around for her discarded shoes and purse.
“Chase needs to know…”
“That I love him, and I trust him, and that he can trust me.” The happiness started in Dusty’s toes and brightened as it traveled upward, till she broke out in a huge grin. “Phelma Jo needs to know that, too, but Chase is more important. Will you come with me, Thistle?”
“I bet we’ll find Chase and Dick at the Old Mill Bar.”
Dusty grabbed her purse and car keys and headed out, a little Pixie tune adding bounce to her step.
Dum dee dee do dum dum, she sang out loud.
Thirty-five
CHASE SCRUBBED HIS FACE with his hands, hoping to banish the weariness of heart and body that plagued him. He stared longingly at his barelytasted beer.
His attention spread around the bar, seeking malcontents and those normally mild mannered souls with tempers frayed by the heat and humidity.
“God, I wish a thunderstorm would blow in and clear the air,” he muttered and took a sip.
The beer tasted sour and didn’t help at all.
“Off duty?” Dick asked, settling onto the stool beside him. He signaled the bartender for a beer of his own.
“Barely. I’m out of uniform, but with one man minding a desk and being short-handed to begin with, no one on the force is sleeping tonight. Even the lieutenant and the chief are in cruisers patrolling the hot spots. I’ve already put in a twelve-hour day. Mabel sent me home.” Chase rubbed his face again. He really wanted the rest of his beer-foul tasting as it was-but didn’t dare take any more alcohol tonight.
“I don’t know why, but normal law-abiding folks think that because they are miserable they have the right to make the rest of the world as miserable as they are,” Chase sighed.
“I know.” Dick shook his head in dismay. “It’s Festival, so abnormal behavior somehow becomes the norm. I had to run a couple of kids off this morning. They had a contest to see who could break the most windows by throwing rocks. I boarded up three broken panes in the basement before I headed out to work. Tomorrow I’ll replace them. I know those kids. They’re usually wellbehaved and respectful.”
“I think I’ve spent more time this past week breaking up brawls and separating loving couples before a simple argument became violent.”
“You ever find Phelma Jo? I noticed the CAT still parked beside The Ten Acre Wood.” Dick took a long swig of his drink. “Someone draped it in a blanket of Pixie lights.” His grin let Chase know he had done the mischievous deed.
“No sign of PJ. And that worries me. For all of her faults and nastiness, Phelma Jo has never done anything illegal… that I know of. She claims Haywood Wheatland altered the bid for the timber by a factor of ten, that she’s not at fault. I’ve got the county police patrolling the carnival and keeping an eye out for him, too. God, it hurt my pride to run to them for help.”
The local mechanic plugged a quarter into the jukebox and cranked up the volume to ear busting. The whining electric guitars and canned bass made Chase and a few others wince. Previously muted conversations dialed up to an obnoxious roar to top the music.
Chase asked for ice water. It tasted better than the beer and helped clear his head a little.
The high school principal stomped over to the jukebox and deliberately forced the volume back down to one notch above mute.
The mechanic half rose from his seat right beneath the wall speakers. His fists clenched and his brow lowered belligerently. A round of applause greeted the principal’s action. That made the mechanic think twice about protesting with his fists.
“Can you ease up the air-conditioning to Arctic?” Chase asked the bartender.
“Sorry, Sarge. We’re already running at max, and it’s threatening to die.” The bartender shook his head as he polished an already immaculate bar. “The mood in this town is scary tonight. We really need a break from the heat. Heard a rumor that the power company is going to brownouts. Too many air conditioners running at full power all the time.”
“The place is really jumping tonight,” Dick commented. He, too, looked askance at his beer rather than downing it. “Want to talk about it?”
“Talk about what?” Chase asked. His spine stiffened defensively.
“About why my sister is sitting in the bay window cradling the music box and crying.”
A wild leap of hope flamed within Chase, then died as if drowned by the entire glass of ice water.
“I won’t let you hurt her. Not you or anyone else for that matter,” Dick continued.
“There is nothing to talk about,” Chase replied.
“Yes, there is.”
“Nope. Not going to happen.” Chase threw a five on the bar and pushed his stool back. “I got work to do. People to find. Tow trucks to call.”
“Not yet,” Dick restrained him with a firm grip on his forearm.
“Take your hand off me before I arrest you for assaulting a police officer.”
“Nope. You aren’t in uniform, so that doesn’t count. You are going to sit there and wait until my sister says her piece.”