Word Gets Around

by Lisa Wingate

  “Netta!” Imagene’s protest filled the space between us, and then everything went silent. “That ain’t any of our business.”

  Donetta laughed, batting away the words with savoir faire. “Pppfff, I’m a hairdresser. Everything’s my business.”

  “Maybe he don’t want folks to know.” Imagene cleared her throat, and from the body language I could tell she meant The Shay and me.

  The hollow under Donetta’s cheekbones went red. “Oh, gravy,” she murmured, her mouth falling open. “I didn’t figure it was a secret from everybody. I just thought he wasn’t tellin’ Mimi—that maybe he figured if she knew, she wouldn’t stay around. She don’t seem like the type to stick around, Willie bein’ so much older than her, and his odds not bein’ very good and all.”

  “Netta!” Grabbing Donetta’s arm, Imagene hauled her to her feet, snagged a suitcase-sized red purse off the shelf, stuffed it into Donetta’s hands, and said, “We’re goin’. Y’all two just go on with what you need to be doing.” She hustled Donetta out the back, the two of them arguing all the way. Frederico followed, looking confused.

  When they were gone, I turned my attention to Justin. He was watching a family on the sidewalk, each of them carrying a bag from the Amber Anderson souvenir shop across the street. They peered in our window and waved, but Justin just stared at the glass, unfocused.

  “Shay-man,” I said, but he didn’t react. “Hey, Shay-man.” I flashed a hand in front of his face, and he blinked. “You all right?” I waved to the onlookers on behalf of The Shay, and the family moved on.

  Justin started stacking up proposal pages. “Yeah, fine.” He shrugged me off as if he couldn’t imagine why I was asking. “Why wouldn’t I be, dude?”

  “I just thought maybe you’d be upset about Willie.” I watched closely for a reaction. After all the times I’d seen The Shay and Willie arm-in-arm like family, I couldn’t believe this would roll off so easily. Then again, Justin’s ability to detach from things had often surprised me. After Stephanie took the boys and moved away, he never mentioned their absence. It didn’t seem to bother him that one day Brody and Bryn were in his house and the next day they weren’t. It almost seemed like he was glad. Family life had cramped his ability to party. With Stephanie and the kids gone, he could do whatever he wanted.

  “Come on, Shay,” I said. “You and Willie have been tight. You’re going to tell me this doesn’t bother you?” Of all the days for Justin to find this out, today was the worst possible one. The last thing he needed was another distraction or any more weight on his shoulders.

  Shrugging, he gave himself a quick sideways check in the beauty shop mirror, his reflection casting a sardonic smile. “If we were tight, I guess I’d know he had cancer, wouldn’t I? He didn’t tell me because he didn’t want me to drop his project. People tell you what they want you to hear, dude. You been in the big town long enough, you ought to know that. Everybody uses everybody. That’s the way it works.”

  “That’s a pretty cynical outlook on it.”

  The man in the mirror flashed a smile that worked on screen, but in actuality meant nothing. “It’s real, dude. You gotta be real. Dreamers like you don’t ever figure that out. Everyone wants somethin’. Mimi’s out for a free ride wherever she can get it. Willie wants this movie made. Amber wants me to help her build that foster shelter. Frank wants to pay off a debt to Willie. You think you owe me, because we spent a few years in the same room at Mama Louise’s and I gave you a break in the business when I got mine.”

  Shrugging, he smoothed back his hair, twisting his head from side to side, checking for perfection before turning away from the mirror. “We all got our own thing, and we look out for our own thing. And the world keeps turning. You gonna run with the big dogs, you gotta be ready to bite before they bite you. Law of the jungle, baby.”

  Stuffing the papers under his arm, he swiped a bite of pie up with one finger, popped it in his mouth, and started toward the stairs. “I’m heading up to get some work done. I’m sick of these people.” He waved vaguely toward the room, or the plate glass window, or me. It was hard to say.

  “Go for it,” I muttered. Not that it mattered, because the Shay was halfway out of the room and probably not listening anyway. “You’re on your own, dude.”

  “Yeah, well, that’s nothing new.” His words echoed after him, and I felt the usual cross between irritation and parental guilt. I hadn’t really meant for him to hear that last part. Or maybe I had, in a subconscious way. What did it say about me that I’d spent the past twenty years baby-sitting a jerk who thought I was here because I owed him for giving me my big break in action-adventure screenwriting?

  For about two and a half seconds I considered grabbing the laptop off the counter, going upstairs, chucking it in The Shay’s general direction, and telling him what he could do with this project. Let him try to write it if he was such a one-man show. I could get on a plane, fly a couple of hours, drive a few more, and be right back where I started from.

  Now, there’s a cheery thought. Just me and Dr. Phil again, fixing broken lives one episode at a time.

  Sitting down in one of the chairs, I pulled a hair dryer cone over my head and tried to focus. I thought about all the people who were counting on The Horseman and the foster shelter the project would help create. I thought about the kids who would eventually come there, who would figure out, the way I had at Mama Louise’s, what it means to be safely home. Until I lived at her house, I had forgotten there were places where you could lay your head down and go to sleep and know you’d wake up all right in the morning.

  I went back to work, determined that quitting wasn’t an option. We couldn’t drop this project. The Shay knew that, too, deep down. He knew it because of where we’d been together. In a couple of hours, he would descend the stairs, and he’d be ready. For once in his life, he would cowboy up instead of caving in. He knew how important this project was to everyone, how much this whole town, and all the kids who would come here later, were counting on it.

  For an hour, I poured over the text, read through it again and again, printed out clean pages, got it perfect, made sure we had plenty of copies if Dane brought people with him. As the last file rolled off the printer, I fell asleep.

  Donetta’s voice was echoing in my ear when I woke up. She sounded far away. I opened my eyes, and everything was black. Small circles of light reflected against the darkness like fake stars in an old theater ceiling. A gonglike sound rang around me, and I clued into the fact that my head was inside one of the dryer cones. Donetta was knocking on the outside. She lifted it up, and there was light.

  With the light came panic. “What time is it?” Blinking as my eyes adjusted, I tried to focus on my watch.

  “Around three in the afternoon,” she answered. “I wondered if Lauren had been by here. Nobody’s seen her since church. She got in her car and left as soon as service was over. Didn’t say a thing to anybody. It’s not like Puggy to do that. Imagene and me and Frederico looked for her out at the ranch, and at Frank’s place, and I checked upstairs for her. There’s no one up there, either, and—”

  “Justin’s upstairs,” I said. “Maybe he saw her.”

  Donetta shook her head. “There’s nobody upstairs. I checked Puggy’s room, and I checked Justin’s. There’s nobody here but you. At first I thought there was nobody here at all, until I walked around the corner and saw you hangin’ out from under the hair dryer. I thought maybe ya’ll had … I don’t know, maybe went out to the ranch and we just missed you on the road. Imagene and Frederico just headed out to drive around and look some more, and … ”

  I missed the rest of what she was saying. I was still stuck on nobody’s upstairs. Nobody’s upstairs? My mind zinged to a fully awakened state. If The Shay wasn’t upstairs, then where was he? “Are you sure Justin’s not up there?”

  “Sure as a hot day in July. His truck’s gone, too. There’s papers all over the room up there—looks like a tornado went through whi
le he was studyin’ the script, and he left that mobile phone of his on the table. It’s been ringin’ like a church bell ever since I walked in here.”

  “Could he and Lauren have gone somewhere together—somewhere else?” I struggled to piece together some scenario that made sense. “Maybe they’re doing some prepping before Dane gets here.” I stood up and started walking toward the stairs with Donetta following me.

  “I don’t think so,” she answered. “Bob seen that big four-wheeler truck roar outta here about an hour ago with only Justin inside, in a hurry and drivin’ wild.”

  A sick feeling started in my head and worked its way slowly downward. As we crested the stairs, I heard Justin’s phone ringing. I hurried to the room, checked the call.

  Marla.

  The list of recent calls was an echo.

  Marla.

  Marla.

  Marla.

  Justin had called her about an hour and a half ago.

  I pushed the button and answered the call just before it could roll to voice mail.

  Marla wasn’t happy to find me on the end of the line. “What do you want, Nate?” she snapped.

  “You’re the one who called.” I’d forgotten how much I loved talking to Marla. After almost a week surrounded by the slow drawl and pervasive niceness of the Dailyians, Marla’s voice was like the annoying squeal of a car alarm.

  “Put Justin on the phone.”

  “I would if I knew where he was.” I had a feeling Marla knew. I had a feeling she had something to do with his sudden disappearing act. I pictured him on the plane, on his way back to California, slowly melting down, caving under the pressure, running back to Marla and Randall, who would pat him on the head, tell him what he wanted to hear, and feed him prescription anxiety meds to help him feel better about bailing on everyone here in Daily, Texas.

  Would he really do that?

  He’s done it before. He’s done it over, and over, and over again.Why wouldn’t he do it now? Why were you stupid enough to believe this time would be different?

  “Where is he, Marla?”

  “None of your business, Nate.” Marla’s forked tongue whipped through the phone and gave me an ear lashing. “I’m on my way down to that stupid backwater little hole in the earth to pick him up, and he’d better be there when I get there. You can find your own way home.”

  “He’s not here now,” I pointed out. “What did he say when you talked to him?”

  “Like I’d tell you.”

  “I mean it, Marla. He’s somewhere, and he’s bottoming out, and I need to find him.” Across the room, Donetta gasped and mouthed Oh my! I could guess what was going through her mind right now.

  Marla snorted into the phone. “Sure. Right. What are you— his keeper?”

  “Why did he call you, Marla?”

  “Why don’t you get a life of your own, Nate? Oh yes, I remember, because without Justin, you’re a big, fat nothing. How’s that master work of yours coming along, by the way? Got a big shiny option contract yet? Guess not, huh? Wonder why that is?”

  “Why did he call you?”

  “Go to—”

  “Why did he call?”

  “He needed a prescription filled. I phoned it in for him.”

  I felt like she’d just hit me with a right cross through the phone. “Where? Where did you call it in?”

  “I’m hanging up now,” she sing-songed.

  “Where!” My voice reverberated through the room. Donetta took a step backward, her long, artificially thickened lashes blinking open so that her eyes were white around the edges.

  “Wall’s Pharmacy in some town nearby,” Marla huffed. “There’s not exactly a chain store on every corner around there, you know.”

  “Where. What town?” Grabbing a pen off the nightstand, I snatched a sheet of paper off the floor, wrote Wall’s Pharmacy.

  Marla finally gave it up. “Killeen. Someplace called Killeen. I’m flying in lat—”

  I didn’t listen to the rest, just hung up and turned off the phone, then dropped it on the table. “How far is Killeen from here?”

  Donetta pondered. “Way-ul, let me think.” Her voice seemed to bend and stretch, each word painfully slow. “Less than a hour. Maybe forty-five minutes. You just turn left outta here, go straight down the highway, turn when you see the big green sign to Killeen. That runs right into town.”

  Glancing at the clock, I did a quick mental calculation. Forty-five minutes there. Forty-five minutes to return. An hour and a half. Dane was due to land at the Daily airport in less than two hours. I could make it there and back … if I could find Justin right away. If he wasn’t strung out. If we didn’t pass each other en route. There was no choice but to try. “Do you know where the Wall’s Pharmacy is? She said Justin was headed for Wall’s Pharmacy.”

  Donetta ruminated again. “Way-ul, let me think about thay-ut. … There’s a Wall’s Pharmacy right on 190 as you drive into town, but I think there’s more than just one. I could call Brother Ervin and ask. His mama lives in Killeen in the nursin’ home. She’s a hundred and two years old. Real sweet lady, and—”

  I didn’t wait for the rest of the story. “I need you to do some things for me, all right?”

  “All ri-ight,” she agreed, a twinkle of intrigue in her eyes.

  “I’ll head to the pharmacy in Killeen.” What are the odds? What are the odds he’ll be there? “Dane is due at the airport in less than two hours. Make sure someone’s there to pick him up. He’ll probably have a number of people with him, as well as his family. If Justin and I aren’t back when he gets here, take Dane’s group out to the ranch. His kids want to ride a horse. Get someone to show them around the foster shelter and give them the tour. Find Lauren. Get her prepared to do a demo with the horse—anything to stall for time until we can get there. If I can’t find Justin, I’ll come back by myself.” In reality there was no way this thing would work without Justin. Without the horseman, there was no project.

  Donetta stood at attention like a soldier receiving marching orders. “You can count on us. One thing about Daily folk, we know how to hand out southern hospitality. When that Mr. Dane gets here, he won’t know what hit ’im.”

  That’s what I was afraid of. If someone had told me a few hours ago that I’d be sending Imagene, Donetta, and Frederico to pick up M. Harrison Dane, I would have laughed the idea out of the room. Now I didn’t have much choice. “I’ll need a car.”

  For the first time, Donetta looked worried. “Imagene and Frederico took the van, and Ronald’s gone fishin’ in my truck. … ” Tapping a finger to her lips, she considered the problem as we hurried down the stairs. “Pearly Parsons’ flatbed is right there in the shop. Frank just plugged a tire on it. Pearly wouldn’t care if you used it, bein’ as it’s a emergency and all.”

  I didn’t argue. Right now, there wasn’t time to be choosy. I followed her to the auto shop, helped her raise the door, and in under five minutes flat, I was sputtering down the alley, surrounded by a smell that reminded me of Lucky Strike’s barn, and sporting the unlikely handle,

  Pearly Parsons, PHD

  Post Hole Digger

  Fencing, welding, post drilling

  The harder the ground, the bigger the shovel

  Every fence true and straight

  If I could make this situation turn out straight and true, then the PHD part would be well earned.

  Chapter 21

  Lauren Eldridge

  The instant Brother Ervin finished the sermon about the Good Horseman, I knew what I had to do. When the service ended, I rose from my seat so quickly that people probably thought I was headed down front for the invitation. I rushed out the door as the closing hymn faded and people began zipping up their Bible covers and waking sleeping kids. I probably looked like a lunatic, but it didn’t matter. I had somewhere to go, and I had to get there before it was too late or my newfound courage faded.

  As I drove out of town, my hands tightened on the steering wheel, gro
wing clammy even before I turned off Main at the Buy-n-Bye. The store was closed this morning, the squatty cement-block building basking peacefully in the sunlight under a sprawling live oak tree.

  In my mind, it became night. I saw the tree shuddering in the rain, the branches swaying wildly, groaning in the wind. A flash of lightning lit the road, illuminated the snake of curves ahead, then died. In the trailer, the horses whinnied and kicked the walls, uneasy, anxious, as if they sensed what was ahead.

  I could hear them as if I were there again, in the storm with Danny, lightning crackling inside the vehicle and out. …

  I tried to push the image away, to bury it again.

  The only dangerous demons are the ones you lack the courage to confront. I’d read that in a Campus Crusade pamphlet someone left sitting around the classroom building. Courage, it said, doesn’t come from an absence of fear, but an abundance of faith. It was time to pull out my faith and acknowledge the fact that I hadn’t been saved from the water so I could spend the rest of my life focusing on myself. There was work to do, and for me the work began here, where a single split-second decision went horribly wrong.

  My heart beat faster as I drew close to the low-water crossing. Scenes from that night flashed by like bits of memory randomly torn from a scrapbook no one would want—trees swaying, wind buffeting the truck, the horse trailer fishtailing in the mud, Danny driving too fast, the trailer rocking back and forth, rain pounding the truck, so loud. The voices inside, even louder.

  Topping the hill, I saw the headlights glint against the flooded crossing, the water churning behind the low-water bridge, building power, then rushing over the pavement. I told Danny to turn around, but he let the truck creep forward. He wanted to see how much water was coming over the top. I argued. He drove on.