by G M Barlean
“I suppose I shouldn’t talk about what you’re doing to your mother, either.” Doug put his chin out defiantly, but his lips trembled.
Something held him back, but what?
The sounds of the “Star-Spangled Banner” began to ring out and the audience stood; men took off their hats and veterans saluted as little girls carried flags onto the stage. Boy Scouts lined up.
It was the grand finale and Naomi’s finest hour. I watched her and waited to see what she would do.
She did what I expected her to. She hurried to the stage. This argument with her husband proved trivial. Our opinions weren’t relevant. The most important thing to Naomi was how things looked and, moreover, how she looked. She had to bid the final adieu to the audience. Her face had to be the last thing everyone saw. They couldn’t leave without knowing this grand day was provided by the great and powerful Naomi Waterman Talbot.
As the final notes of the song rang out, cheers went up to meet the starry night sky.
Naomi ran onto the stage. “Thank you, thank you. Wasn’t the show spectacular!” She clapped and clapped and smiled as though she personally had sung every last note and fought each and every war the veterans represented. She had brought them all together for the good of society in this pitiable town. What would we all do without her?
I expected nothing less, yet, it still shocked me. I returned my attention to those near me. Everyone looked physically ill. Pale. Nauseous. Exhausted.
Doug shook his head and let out a sarcastic laugh under his breath. He seemed unable to meet our eyes, so he turned and walked away in silence.
What more could be said? Naomi’s behavior had told the whole story. She acted like a spoiled brat, a bully, a sociopath even. She’d bullied Doug most of all. The thought of their son sprang to my mind. Dear God, what had she put her son through?
From under the streetlight, we saw Doug approach his car, get in, and slam the door. He sat there, his hands gripping the steering wheel as he stared ahead with blank eyes. What were his thoughts? What would he be driven to do? Then he pulled away. His tires squealed enough to make Mari wince.
Mari gave Tanya and me a hug. It looked as though she wanted to say something, but she shook her head and gave a halfhearted wave, then turned to go to her own vehicle. Her husband and family were waiting for her at home. She, too, sat for a long time in her car, looking caged. Trapped.
What would Naomi do to us, to Doug and Mari? I couldn’t imagine her letting all this drift away like the notes of the final song. I knew she would retaliate, but to what degree?
“I’m going to follow Mari home. I think she’s pretty upset, Josie,” Tanya said as she watched Mari, who still sat in her car.
“That’s a good idea.” I rubbed Tanya’s arm.
Tanya nodded. We shared the worry, but it didn’t make the load lighter.
“I’ll head on home, I guess. Let me know if you need anything.”
We parted ways.
As I walked away from the last remnants of a celebration turned sour, I saw Naomi storming toward her car. Even in the limited light, her stride emanated pure hate.
I knew one thing without a doubt. Above all things, Naomi needed to win. She needed to be on top, and she’d do anything to get there. My gut twisted at the thought of what was yet to come.
Chapter 16
The mood in the room felt off. Gloria settled back in her chair and tried to be patient. The women fidgeted in their seats and exchanged worried glances. Patience was overrated. “What’s going on?” she asked.
“The next part is hard to tell.” Josie looked at Tanya with dread.
“Yeah. And I have to tell it.” Tanya’s eyes were moist.
“Go ahead, dear. You’ll do fine,” Betty said, encouraging her.
Tanya swallowed hard.
Tanya Wishes She Didn’t Remember—1974
Naomi sped off in her car, her hands tight on the wheel. She looked pissed.
Not good. My gut clenched. It looked as though Naomi planned to make someone pay hell, and I suspected it would be Doug or Mari… or maybe both.
I’d promised to make sure Mari returned home safe and sound and that’s what I would do. But first I would swing past the Talbot house… make sure I knew where the enemy had landed.
My mind focused on the events of the night. The last murmurs of the Fourth of July celebration now hummed in the background. I turned to go to my car, but a tug on my elbow brought me into the moment. My old classmate, Boyd Odvody, grinned at me from ear to ear.
“Hey there, Tanya. I haven’t seen you since the last class reunion. You look great.” He had a hold on my elbow. “We have some catching up to do.”
Oh, God. Not Boyd and his hill-folk accent. He’ll talk forever.
“Hey, Boyd. Uh… good to see you.” I reclaimed my arm. I had to get away from him. Now wasn’t the time to trip down memory lane.
Boyd’s voice droned on while I struggled to figure out how to make a break for it. He didn’t even take a breath. What in the hell was he even talking about? There wasn’t time for me to be polite.
“Boyd, I’m sorry. Wish I had time to catch up, but I have to go.” I waved and ran off while he blathered on.
Across the courthouse lawn I went, jumped into my car, and headed toward the Talbot house on the edge of town.
Seven minutes later, I eased down their street. Naomi’s car wasn’t in the driveway and no lights were on in the house. Doug must have been gone, as well, or he was sitting in the dark house. Unlikely.
Where were they?
I headed out on County Road D toward Mari’s house, fretting all the way. The sick feeling in my stomach continued to build. It felt like I was playing hide-and-seek in a dark house and someone was about to pop out and grab me.
Up ahead, at least a half mile from Mari’s house, I saw two cars parked on the side of the road. I slowed. My headlights locked on the vehicles.
The cars belonged to Doug and Mari.
I inched past them. They sat in the front seat of Doug’s car. He held her and it looked like they were both crying. They didn’t look at me… just stared ahead. I felt like a Peeping Tom.
Shocked, I drove on. If Naomi came along, she’d eat them alive. The big problem was, I didn’t know Naomi’s whereabouts, and I felt responsible for Mari getting home safely. After that fight, Naomi would be capable of anything.
But, what was I supposed to do? Stop and knock on the window? Should I warn them about Naomi not being home?
No. This wasn’t my business.
I turned at the next corner, went around the section, and drove back into town. Something in my gut didn’t sit right, though. The closer to my house I got, the more I knew this was my business. I had said I would make sure Mari made it home, and I hadn’t done so. I had to go back and deal with this.
I drove back to D Road, and as I crept along, I tried to convince myself I had to stop and talk to them. A nasty headache had settled in, and my temples throbbed.
A few miles out of town, headlights appeared down the gravel road, coming my direction… coming on fast.
Very fast.
The car sped by, gravel spitting out from under the tires. I gripped the steering wheel, worried the car meeting me would lose control. I tried to make out the driver’s face.
Doug.
What the hell?
I stopped right there and craned my neck back to watch and make sure he didn’t fly off the road. Should I turn around and follow him to make sure he didn’t have an accident? Was Mari with him? A sick feeling sank in my gut. What caused him to drive away so fast?
I had to find Mari right away. I raced on, my heart hammering in my chest.
About a mile past where Doug and Mari had been parked, the dirt road clouded over with dust. Taillights in the ditch glowed red through the haze. It was Mari’s car—she’d crashed. Through a clearing in the haze, I saw another set of taillights way off down the road.
I parked, scrambled f
rom my vehicle, and ran to Mari’s car. It rested on its side in the ditch; deep ruts led to it from the road. The driver’s door pointed to the sky, the front of the car crushed and crinkled, grass and dirt covering the fender. The headlights shone into the field through caked-on dirt. I grabbed the rearview mirror and hoisted myself up so I could open the driver’s door. The car creaked and shifted down. I lost my footing but held fast.
Blood smudged the cracked window of the driver’s door. Mari slumped over in a heap on the passenger’s side. My stomach leapt to my throat. The car was still running, its engine revving loud. It took all my strength to pull open and then push up the door.
“Mari!” I screamed as I reached for my friend. My fingers stretched until I grasped her upper arm. Then I pulled at her unconscious form as I teetered on the edge of the car and struggled to get a good grip. Blood caked the side of her face, her blond hair matted to her head. My stomach lurched, but I continued to pull. I worked until I could wrap my arms around her waist. Tugging hard backward, we tumbled down from the car, Mari landing on top of me in the ditch.
I worked her up to the edge of the road, and there, I cradled my friend’s head in my lap. I put an ear to her mouth and tried to listen for breath, but the car revved too loud for me to hear. I put my ear to her chest and heard a heartbeat. Still alive.
I shook her. “Mari! Wake up!”
Her eyes fluttered but didn’t open, and then her mouth began to move.
I put my ear close. I could barely make out what she said, but the one word I did hear was clear enough. I sat up and looked in disbelief into Mari’s half-open eyes, then I looked down the road to where I’d seen the other taillights.
Mari’s only word had been “Naomi.”
Chapter 17
Silence filled the room, sniffles and throat clearing the only sounds. Gloria ached for them all, including herself. Losing Mari had devastated these women, and it hurt her to watch them relive the loss.
Before she could make even one comment, though, Debbie took over the story.
Debbie’s Anger Builds—1974
“Mari’s dead.” Tanya’s words sounded so hollow and meaningless. They were an ugly noise in my ears.
All of us gals had rushed to the hospital. Now we huddled under the cold harsh lights of the hallway outside the ER. Weeping, we held each other for support.
But not me. Crying was for the weak. I’d put away such nonsense when I was young. It had never gotten me anywhere. Anger, I understood. A fire built inside me that wouldn’t easily be put out.
The wail of family members echoed down the hall. Stan, the kids, Mari’s parents, cousins, aunts, uncles… the hospital was filled with sorrowful relatives. I could almost feel them buckle under complete shock. The sterile walls of the building burst with the sounds of agony. The children’s cries… more painful to me than my own loss… a sound I have never forgotten.
I moved, caught up in the group as we gripped each other to keep from falling down, a mass of comfort and sorrow on wobbly knees, baptizing the hallway with tears.
In the visitors’ room, we sat in dumbfounded silence. The noises of the hospital screamed in my ears, the hum of florescent lights and beeps from machines. I sat rigid on a cold vinyl chair and clicked my lighter… enough rage building in me to burn the whole place down.
“What the hell happened?” I bounced my knee and shook, rattling like a pot ready to boil.
Tanya looked as though the memory haunted her. She searched my eyes for comfort. She’d have to look elsewhere. I wanted answers.
“Tell us, Tanya. Tell us now,” I barked.
Tanya began to sob. She held out her arms and stared at them like they were the instruments of murder. She began to shake. “She died in my arms.” Tanya wailed and covered her face. She told us everything. It spilled out like knives of hard details and raw emotions.
Betty pulled Tanya close and held her head against her shoulder like a mother. Then she said what we all were thinking. “Naomi ran her off the road. That’s what happened. That’s whose taillights Tanya saw, I’d bet on it.”
“Of course it’s what happened.” I stood up, my eyes filled with rage, not tears. “And we are going to figure out how to make the bitch pay.”
Chapter 18
Gloria felt overwhelmed. The women must have killed Naomi, revenge their motive. These women she’d come to enjoy visiting, one of whom was, more than likely, her birth mother.
She had to get out, get some fresh air. Go home and think everything through. She needed a new perspective. Any perspective. All she could think was Naomi had coming whatever she got… and it wasn’t good to think that way. She couldn’t allow herself to be so one-sided or vicious. Was Naomi really so deserving of the hate festering in Gloria’s heart?
At the diner over a hot beef sandwich, Gloria wondered who could give her more information. Maybe Delbert from the old-man table. She could ask to meet with him privately. Or, maybe with enough prodding, Mabel would cough up more information. But gossip wasn’t what she needed right now. She needed clear eyes to find out if she was seeing things straight.
Tildy slammed a ticket down on the table with her usual flair.
Gloria jumped. “Jeez.”
“What?” Tildy took no guff from anyone.
“Nothing.” The waitress was probably exhausted and had been on her feet all day.
Gloria fished money from her purse and went back to searching the room to see if there was anyone she could quiz about Naomi Talbot. No one.
It was for the best. She had to drop a deposit off at the bank and get back to work. Might as well move on with her day. She wasn’t solving the world’s problems sitting here eating diner food.
Thoughts of Naomi and Mari and Tanya swam in Gloria’s brain. She slung her purse over her shoulder, then opened it and started digging around as she hustled through the front door of the bank. She didn’t even notice the man on the other side until she almost knocked him over.
“Whoa!” he said.
She looked up into a face she hadn’t expected. A smiling face. Actually, a laughing face.
“You okay?” He stared into her eyes with his baby blues.
She gulped and made a few mental notes. Nice head of hair, mostly blond, some gray at the temples. Maybe forty. Dark suit and a light blue tie. In decent shape. Tall. Confident.
Then she realized she was staring at him with her mouth hanging open.
“I’m Ron Camden.” He held out his hand.
Trimmed nails. No wedding ring.
Gloria shook his hand and smiled back, then got a grip on herself. “Gloria Larson. Sorry. I don’t always mow people down.” Her laugh sounded dorky. Great. “Wait a minute. Ron Camden? Ronnie Camden? Do you know a woman here in town, Mabel…”
“My aunt. Yes. She calls me Ronnie. You know her?”
“You could say that.” Gloria assessed the man in an entirely new way now. He looked good on the surface, but if this was the much-lauded Ronnie, she had to be suspicious.
He laughed, then shrugged. “How do you know my aunt?”
“Oh, she lives down the street from me. She’s mentioned you a few times.”
“Wait a minute.” Ronnie took a step back. “You’re not the editor of the Rosewood Press, are you?” He cast her a sideways glance.
“I am.” She glanced askance back at him.
Ron laughed. Heartily. “Well then, I’ve heard all about you. Aunt Mabel’s been trying to convince me she knows a gal who’s perfect for me.”
Now it looked as though he was assessing her. Gloria didn’t like it.
They stared at one another for a moment, each lost in their own process of measuring each other.
“Well, I have to keep moving. Sorry I literally ran into you.” Gloria’s mind was already on other things.
“Yeah, I have to get going, too. Nice to meet you, though.” Ron’s eyes seemed to be focused on other things already. He scooted around her and they passed like cars on
the road. A brush of traded paint and they were on their way.
Gloria turned to watch him. He climbed into a black Lexus. For a moment, she wanted to go out, stand at his window and say something more. She shook her head. What was she thinking? It didn’t even make any sense.
Moving on into the bank, she gave her deposit to the teller, chatted for a moment, then turned to leave. At the entryway, she saw the Lexus still parked in front of the bank. Her breath stopped.
Should she go talk to him?
Before she could even make the decision, Ron jumped out of the car and ran back to the bank. He opened the door and offered her a big smile.
“Hey, this is going to sound really weird, but… you want to have lunch next week? I have another meeting here at the bank next Thursday. My treat. Out at the First Stop. We can put Aunt Mabel’s theory to the test.”
A smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. Something in her brain said to go for it. What the hell. “It’s a date.”
He grinned. “See you there at noon, next Thursday.”
Gloria watched him run back to his car. Now all she had to do was try to remember how to behave in the company of a man. It had been quite a while.
Her inner reporter kicked back in. Maybe she could run her ideas about the Thorns of Rosewood past good old Ronnie. He might be just the unemotional perspective she needed.
Chapter 19
On her way to Meadowbrook, Gloria thought about what she’d wear to her lunch date with Ronnie. Should she call him Ron or Ronnie? So many things to think about. She didn’t normally worry about how she dressed. Jeans and a shirt was her calling card. Khakis and a shirt if she thought the interview was more important. Slacks and a blouse if she had to go somewhere dressy. No one would have ever called Gloria Larson a fashion queen, but next Thursday she wanted to look right. Not anxious, but like she cared at least a little.
She couldn’t wait to tell the women she had a date.