by Tracy Krauss
“Sure,” he shrugged.
“Great!” It didn’t take her long to vacate the booth and head toward the exit.
“You need to be back for cleanup,” Rachel called after her. She wasn’t sure if Bonita had heard or not, or if she was purposely ignoring the instruction. She turned to make a comment to Billy and noticed he was still staring after Bonita’s retreating figure. “That was awfully nice of you,” she noted. “You’ve been here all afternoon.”
Billy tore his eyes off Bonita and shrugged, looking embarrassed. “It’s nothing.”
Rachel surveyed the young man. It was obvious he had a crush on Bonita McKinley. Well, obvious to everyone except the girl in question. She, apparently, couldn’t give him the time of day.
“How’s your day going?” Grace asked, coming up beside Rachel. She was dressed as a clown.
“Okay. Another twenty minutes, and then I’m rounding up my strays and heading back to the classroom,” Rachel replied. The last thing they needed was more sugar, but she’d baked a pumpkin-shaped cake for the occasion and hoped that and some juice would keep them occupied until it was time to go home.
“You’re a sucker for punishment,” Grace laughed. “I’m letting my kids run it off outside before home time. I need my strength for later.”
“You’re handing out candy?” Rachel asked.
“Are you kidding?” Grace scoffed. “Carl and I are shutting off the lights and hiding under the covers.”
“Oh.” Rachel turned her eyes away, not quite sure how else to respond. She knew her friend and Carl Binder, the rather eccentric science teacher, had started dating, but she didn’t really want all the details.
“Yeah, you know what they say about those ‘brainiac’ types.” Grace raised an eyebrow as she elbowed the air. “Amazing, if you get my drift—”
“Definitely too much information,” Rachel quipped. Even when she’d been in a relationship, she never shared that kind of personal information. It made her uncomfortable and she wished Grace would stop.
Finally, the last goblin was gone, the cake crumbs cleaned up, and Rachel could leave the school. She wasn’t sure if kids would come to her door or not, seeing as she was in the basement, but she’d bought a few treats anyway, just in case.
She was trudging down the street, still wearing her gypsy outfit, when a vehicle pulled up beside her.
“Need a lift?” It was Con McKinley. The nerve after all this time.
“No, thanks. Mrs. Beatry’s is just around the corner, as you well know.” Her voice sounded prim and proper and she hated it, but it was no more than he deserved. She started walking again, and the truck crawled along beside her.
“I get the feeling you’re mad at me,” Con said, leaning toward the open window.
“Oh? Whatever for? Should I be mad at you about something?”
“Yeah, you should,” he said. “If I were you, I’d be mad at me. If you’d get in the truck, I could apologize.”
She stopped in her tracks. “Why should I?” she asked, pouting. She could already feel her resolve softening. He was so darn cute and right now he looked genuinely penitent.
“Cause I’m asking you. Please?”
“Only for a few minutes. Just long enough to apologize,” she agreed. She stomped toward the passenger door which he had already opened from the inside. After hauling herself up onto the seat and clicking her seatbelt in place, she folded her arms across her chest. “Okay. You can start apologizing now.”
Con let out a burst of laughter, a sound that had her melting inside at an even more rapid rate. “You’re cute when you’re angry,” he said.
“Argh!” she punched his arm but couldn’t help the twitching at the corners of her mouth.
He sobered and kept on driving. “I have no legitimate excuses for giving you the brush off other than I was scared.”
“So, you admit you were giving me the brush off,” Rachel noted. “Thanks. I feel so much better now!”
“Only because I was scared. Of caring too much,” he admitted and glanced her way.
That took the wind right out of her sails. She had no reply.
“Forgive me?” he asked.
“I’m still thinking about it.” Of course she forgave him, but he didn’t need to know it yet.
“I thought about calling you lots of times. Every day, in fact. But there was this little obstacle about our beliefs and how they’re different, and well, I decided to leave it in God’s hands. I figured if He wanted us to be together He’d make it happen.”
“Oh. So He’s given you an answer, then?” she asked.
“I’m not sure exactly, but maybe. I was driving down the street and there you were, so I stopped and asked you if you’d go for a ride and you did. So… He didn’t stop me.”
“That seems twisted.” Rachel shook her head and allowed a slight smile to spread across her features. “The chances of you and me running into one another in Marshdale are quite high. You know that.”
“True, but the chances of you accepting a ride decreases the odds, just like the chances of you going out for dinner with me right now also decreases the odds.” He grinned over at her.
“Did you just ask me out to dinner?” Rachel asked. She started to laugh outright.
“Yes, I think I did,” Con joined with a chuckle of his own.
“Alright, I’ll go out for dinner, but I’m not going out looking like this.” She gestured at her outfit.
“You look nice,” he said. “Besides, it is Halloween. Everyone else is dressed up.”
“And what about you? If I’m going to go out in public like this, don’t you think you should be in costume, too?”
“Got it covered,” Con quipped, reaching into his jacket pocket. For the first time she noticed he was wearing a rawhide jacket and he pulled out a Sheriff’s badge. “I’ve already got the hat, so I should be set.”
“You came prepared,” she noted with a smile.
“I try.”
“So where are we going?”
“It’ll have to be Sonny’s. I’m on patrol tonight and can’t go anywhere too far.”
“You mean people I know are actually going to see me in this get-up?” Rachel frowned in dismay.
“Don’t sweat it,” Con dismissed. “You look hot. Besides, I’ll protect ya, little lady.” He said the last part with a fake Southern drawl and Rachel giggled.
“Well, Sheriff. I guess this is your lucky day,” Rachel replied, batting her eyelashes.
Chapter Twenty-One
Sonny’s restaurant was the next stop. The little bell chimed overhead as Con opened the door for Rachel. They found a side booth and slid into their seats as Suzie Chang approached.
“Hi, Miss Bosworth, Mr. McKinley,” Suzie said in greeting as she brought them well-worn menus and utensils bundled in a paper napkin. “Can I get you something to drink?”
“Water is fine for me,” Rachel replied. Con agreed.
Suzie left them to their menus as she went to fetch the water.
“Try their combination plate. It’s always good,” Con suggested.
“I’m not very hungry,” Rachel admitted. “Too much party food this afternoon, I’m afraid. Maybe just soup or a salad.”
Suzie soon returned with their drinks and took their orders.
“So,” Con began, looking around. “Not exactly the most elegant atmosphere for a date.”
“Is that what this is?” Rachel asked, sipping her water.
“Might as well be,” Con replied. “Everyone in here will think so.”
“Hmm…” Rachel mused, surveying the room. “But we’re in disguise, so no one will know it’s us.”
Con laughed. “Right. Do you care?”
“About what?”
“About the fact that people might gossip.”
“Do you?” she asked. Their eyes locked for a minute. It was like they had picked up right where they’d left off. Same intensity of emotion, same sexual tension, same promis
e of more to come. It was like the last month—including that disastrous business with Thomas—had never happened. “I mean, it’s not like we’re doing anything illegal,” she added, looking down at her water as she stirred the ice around with the straw.
“Exactly,” Con laughed. “Besides, I’m thinking that I wouldn’t mind being the object of a little speculation if it includes you.”
There is was again. The intensity in his eyes. The tension. “You are being awfully forward, Sheriff,” Rachel teased, putting on airs in an effort to remain light. “Especially in a public place.”
“Maybe your gypsy ways are making it hard for this cowboy to think straight,” Con countered. He reached across the table and touched Rachel’s hand. “Even in a public place.”
The contact was electric, his eyes like brands of fire. Rachel tucked her hand under the table. She had no words. They were caught in her throat, which was suddenly parched. She took a quick sip of her water.
“Sorry,” he apologized. “I’ve got to watch myself. Maybe this whole Halloween thing has me under a spell, or something. Let’s see… what would be a safer topic of conversation? Work? The kids haven’t driven you around the bend yet?”
“Debatable, but I still appear to be in one piece,” Rachel replied. “I’m tired of school. I don’t want to talk about it. Tell me more about this patrol thing you’re doing.
“It’s just a way to reduce vandalism. Kids can still have their fun, but any would-be vandals know that somebody is out there watching. You should join me,” he suggested, his expression hopeful. “I could use the company and the extra set of eyes.”
“I should probably be at home handing out candy. I mean, it’s expected, right?” She frowned and looked at Con.
“Mrs. Beatry’ll be handing it out upstairs, and I doubt you’ll get many takers in the basement anyway. Especially with the lights off.”
“But won’t that make people mad? Invite vandals?” Rachel asked.
“Not when I’m on patrol.”
“Oh right,” she agreed. “Well, it looks like I’m in, then.”
“Yes!” He pumped his fist as if he’d just scored. “Decreased my odds again.”
“What …?” Rachel stared at him in confusion.
“Decreased the odds that tonight is a simple case of chance. So far I’m three for three. And since three is the number of divinity, I’d say it’s a God thing.” He winked, grinning like a school boy.
****
“Come on,” Tyson said as he led his little sister Lisa up the walkway to the next house. Lisa was a pirate. “I don’t know how I got stuck doing this,” he mumbled under his breath.
“What’d’ya mean? Don’t you like candy?” Lisa asked.
“Of course I like candy,” Tyson replied. “But I’m too old for this. Besides, I was going to hang out with my friends.”
“I’ll share some with you,” Lisa offered.
They rang the bell. “Trick or treat!” Lisa sang out when the elderly man opened the door.
“Well, what have we here?” he said. “Argh, matey! Shiver me timbers, it’s a wee pirate!”
Lisa nodded, her grin from ear to ear. She held her bag out and the elderly gentleman dropped several suckers inside. “Thanks,” she called out, ready to move on as expediently as possible to the next house.
The old man chuckled as he closed the door.
“Slow down,” Tyson grumbled.
“Hurry up,” Lisa countered.
“No. If I’m taking you, you’ll go my pace.”
“Tyson!” Lisa whined.
“Oh, all right,” he conceded and walked more briskly to catch up. Lisa was already heading up the next sidewalk. “This was supposed to be Bonita’s job,” he reminded.
“I know, but she went with Bob,” Lisa finished, ringing the bell. “And you said that already.”
“Well, it isn’t fair—”
“Trick or treat!” Lisa interrupted as soon as the door opened.
The middle-aged woman dropped a large candy bar into her bag. “And here’s one for your escort,” she said with a wink, handing Tyson another bar.
“Thanks,” Tyson and Lisa chimed in unison.
“See? It’s not so bad.”
Tyson shrugged, chewing on the chocolate bar. Somehow he didn’t feel quite as disgruntled. “Still not fair,” he said.
****
Thomas sat on the back stoop. He had taken to sitting out here, looking out over the vastness of the rolling prairie. It used to be a good spot for prayer. Now he just used it for thinking. Of course, it was dark now, the sun having set already. But he could still see the dark shape of the hills, still hear the stillness that beckoned and called to him—an inner voice or the voice of the Majestic. He didn’t know which.
He’d been thinking a lot lately about the state of confusion his life seemed to be in. He missed Rhea terribly. If she had still been with him, none of this would have happened. She had been the stabilizing force in his life. Her faith had been so strong. He thought his was, too, but now he wondered. In less than a month he felt like he had drifted far away from God and he wasn’t sure how he was going to find his way back. Wasn’t sure if he wanted to.
He’d thought, too, about the conversation he’d had with Con McKinley about repenting on behalf of your ancestors. It had seemed so urgent then. Like he’d heard the voice of God and he needed to obey. Now he wasn’t sure about anything anymore. Sometimes he felt God’s presence. Sometimes he felt another pull, perhaps from the spirit of his ancestors, and sometimes he felt nothing, like he was completely numb and there was no feeling left.
One thing was certain, though. He needed to pull himself together for the sake of his children. He’d even felt the urge to buy a bottle once, just to experience the forgetfulness that getting drunk afforded, if only for a few hours. But he’d managed to control the urge. That was one road he didn’t want to travel ever again.
He looked over at Mirna Hyde’s small bungalow. It was no more than a cottage really, with a low four sided roof and cracked plaster on the outside walls. The basement windows were like slits next to the ground. It was probably a dirt basement; maybe no more than a crawl space. He could see some low light flickering in the one window. An orange glow, warm and mysterious. God only knew what a woman like her was doing on this night. He shivered to think of it. That was when most of his troubles had begun. When he went into her yard and participated in the smudge.
Ryder had taken Whisper out earlier, but they were home already. He’d wanted them home before dark just in case. One never knew what could happen on a dark night in a strange town. He’d made up some candy bags just in case some kids came by and they were sitting by the door, ready for the taking. Very few children had ventured this far to the outskirts of town, though. It was kind of far on foot and off the beaten path. At least that was how he had explained it to Whisper. An exchanged look between himself and Ryder confirmed that his son knew the truth. Marshdale was a white town full of white folks. There was little room or encouragement for others—even if they were actually here first.
He hadn’t noticed any ‘trick-or-treaters’ at Mirna Hyde’s place either. The kids of the community had a legitimate reason for staying clear of her house. Her spookiness was a little too real, even on Halloween night.
****
“The Changs are one hardworking family,” Con commented as he and Rachel left the restaurant. “Everyone pulls their weight and pitches in.”
“Seems like I’ve seen a lot of that out here,” Rachel said, hoisting herself into the passenger seat before Con could help. She waited until he was in the driver’s seat before continuing, “Rhoda’s boys do their share of chores, and from what I’ve seen, so do Ivor and Betty’s children.”
“True,” Con agreed. “But I don’t think things are quite the way they used to be.” He backed up onto the street.
“So what does one do while on patrol?” Rachel asked as they drove slowly down Main Street
. They passed several groups of children. Many of them wore masks, but because of the cold temperatures, most costumes were covered by a winter jacket. Some sported capes or sheets which hid the bulky clothing underneath. Those bent on collecting the most candy hauled pillowcases slung over their shoulders.
“Mostly we just drive around,” Con said. “The fact that somebody is watching keeps most pranks to a minimum.”
“I never liked Halloween much,” Rachel mused.
“No? Why not?” Con gave her a sidelong glance.
“Oh, I don’t know, really,” Rachel hedged. She had very clear recollections of always having to wear the witch outfit while her sisters got to be fairy princesses.
“I don’t care for it much, myself,” Con said.
“Too commercial?”
“No. The whole concept of celebrating evil has me more than a little uncomfortable, I guess.”
“But it’s all just in fun,” Rachel replied, trying to sound reasonable. She’d heard this already once today.
“Oh, sure. I wouldn’t want to spoil everything for the kids. Ivor and Betty allow their kids to participate. But there’s nothing fun about hell or the devil, if you really stop to think about it. I can’t help wondering what the Lord would say if He came back tonight.”
“So if you don’t agree on religious grounds, why are you out patrolling?”
“Because I care about kids, and I don’t like to see anybody get hurt,” Con explained.
“Are you talking about the problems they had here a few years ago?”
“Mmm-hmm,” Con nodded his head in the affirmative.
“I heard something about it.”
“I was one of the volunteer firefighters called to the scene. What started out as a prank turned into a disaster. We lost a kid in that fire. Almost lost one of our firemen, too.”
They rode quietly for a while, surveying the streets. They drove past some teenagers loitering outside the bar. “Hmm. I see we have quite a group congregating outside the hotel tonight,” Con observed.
Rachel glanced out her window and frowned. “That looks like Brandi Lane hanging with those teenagers at the hotel again. She hasn’t been coming to school and she’s much too young to be hanging around with that group.”