by Dana Taylor
Mr. Finn and his clan had carved a ramshackle domain in the heart of the woods. The house resembled a modern-day Noah's ark. The original structure had been a long rectangular trailer home sitting on blocks to level it on the hilly terrain. From there, rooms and stories had been added as needed, constructed from whatever materials had been available at the time. Plywood and corrugated metal had come in handy for walls, along with the natural logs from the surrounding hills. Uneven stairs led up to three separate entrances, none of which appeared to be a proper "front door."
Surrounding the building were assorted vehicles that appeared to be missing many vital parts. To the left were two carports shielding sparkling custom-made cars, one painted turquoise blue, the other a gleaming burgundy featuring fancy flame decorations. These were obviously Mr. Finn's competition vehicles. Maddie shook her head at the priorities of people. His daughter wore thrift store cast-offs while his cars looked like a million bucks. Finn's wrecker and a pickup truck sat parked next to a doghouse bearing the sign Hell Hounds.
Several assorted dogs started barking up a storm, disturbing the three black cats that sprawled on a stairway. A tremor of terror quivered in Maddie's stomach as the dogs approached her car. Big, black dogs always brought forth a frightened response since she'd been attacked by a neighbor's Labrador when she was five years old. When two large paws and a monstrous head appeared at her window, she had to fight the urge to throw the car into reverse and make a mad dash for paved roads. Her heart thumped a fearful rhythm in her chest.
A door banged opened at the house and a thin, sandy-haired man in need of a haircut came out looking suspicious and hostile.
Reba quickly opened the door and yelled, "It's me, Pa! Miss Harris brung me home."
His whole demeanor changed as he watched Reba getting out of the car. Finn smiled, shoved his hand through his hair and started down the stairs, yelling at the curs to shut up.
"It's about time you got home. I was 'bout to send the dogs out for you."
Behind him from the open door poured out the Finn children, two boys and a girl. An overweight woman dressed in a tank top and shorts followed, obviously the mother. She balanced a robust baby boy on one hip and held a cigarette in her other hand. She had probably been pretty once, but too many children, carbohydrates, cigarettes and beers had taken their toll.
When her parents made it to her side, Reba introduced them to Maddie. "Miss Harris, this here is my pa, Wade, and my mom, Ginger."
Wade walked around to the driver's side. "'Preciate you giving Reba a lift. She can be so dad-gum slow, she misses the bus."
"I'm happy to help," Maddie said.
Wade rubbed his hand over the smooth top of the cream Camry. "Nice car." Hollering to his wife, he said, "You'd like one of these babies, wouldn't you, Sugar?"
Ginger smiled, revealing two lost side teeth. "You bet."
Maddie imagined all the Finn children trashing out the inside of her beloved car and inwardly shuddered.
Wade bent down and rested his elbows on the opening where the window was rolled down and said, "You must be the teacher that lives off the main road. Reba always points out your house when we drive by. She seems to have taken a shine to you."
Wade leaned uncomfortably close to Maddie and she pulled back as far as she could. His eyes inspected her and the car interior. She nearly gagged at the smell of smoke on him and felt equal repulsion by the stains on his Budweiser t-shirt. And weren't his pupils unnaturally dilated?
Maddie smiled politely. "I'm the assistant principal, actually. I think Reba is a very special girl. I've asked her to stay tomorrow for the dance and I'll bring her home, if that's all right with you."
Wade stood up. "Yeah, Reba's special, ain't you, baby? You want to go to that there dance?"
Reba stood clutching her books. A look passed between father and daughter that Maddie caught, but didn't understand. "Yes, I do. I want to go to that dance, Pa."
Ginger put her arm around her daughter. "Course she does. Her first school dance. Let her go, Wade."
Wade winked at Maddie. "They're ganging up on me. Sure she can go! Wouldn't want her to miss her first dance."
Reba heaved a little sigh of relief as she said, "Thanks for the ride, Miss Harris. See ya tomorrow."
Reba and her mother turned toward the house. Ginger yelled at the other three kids. "Get in the house for supper. The hotdogs is probably ready by now." They all waved goodbye as they mounted the stairs.
Maddie pulled her car in gear and tried to decide the best way to turn around when Wade suddenly leaned into her open window again. "They're sure making teachers good lookin' nowadays." He pulled a card out of his pocket and dropped it in her lap. "If you ever need to have your car towed, call me. That's my personal cell phone. I can be there in a flash."
Maddie sensed he meant more than a friendly exchange of business cards and pursed her lips. "I'm a member of the Automobile Club. Thanks, anyway. Good bye, Mr. Finn." She pushed the up button on her electric window opener, forcing Wade to back away.
As she drove off she glanced in her rear view mirror. Wade stared at her as she negotiated the bumpy road. His thin body held a menacing tension. A line from Othello flashed in her mind. Yon Wade has a lean and hungry look.
Chapter Four
I won't dance, how could I?
I won’t dance, why should I?
I won’t dance, merci beaucoup
I know that music leads the way to romance
So if I hold you in my arms, I won’t dance
From musical Never Gonna Dance
Thanks to the decorating committee and the wizardry of Randy's tech crew, the gym's transformation into glitzy ballroom dazzled the eyes. By six o'clock on Thursday evening, a paper moon hung behind the portable stage. Red and blue stage lights cast a dreamy glow across the lacquered wooden floor and a mirrored ball dangled over the middle of the room, spinning flashing reflections of light. Randy had donned a bright blue suit, complete with wide lapels enhanced with satin ribbon and rhinestones for dramatic effect. He stood on the platform adjusting his audio equipment and tuned up the karaoke machine while a few students hung the remaining lights and decorations.
Phyllis Green meticulously fussed at the food table, placing petite sandwiches on trays. She wore a full skirted dress reminiscent of fifties sitcoms. With her straight cut bangs and funny face, she resembled a plump Imogene Coca.
Randy turned on Dean Martin's That's Amore just as Maddie and Reba entered the gym. Singing along with Dean, Randy danced down the stage steps, pulled Maddie into his arms and waltzed her around the empty gym floor. Dressed in a peach poodle skirt, matching cashmere sweater, neck scarf, bobby socks and saddle shoes, Maddie laughed as he twirled her around the room. They glided to a stop beside a grinning Reba.
Randy looked the females up and down. "Wowsers, ladies!"
"Costumes are courtesy of the Beaver Cove drama department. Doesn't Reba look wonderful?" Maddie asked.
Maddie thought the girl adorable in her powder blue flared skirt and matching sweater outfit. Her curly auburn air formed a halo around her sweet face.
"You'd make Laverne and Shirley die of envy. And don't I look fabulous?" Randy struck a pose.
"You're absolutely blinding," Maddie replied. "I've got to go check on the door-keepers. Reba, why don't you assist Mr. Bailey for a few minutes while I make my rounds?"
"Okay."
"Come on, kid," Randy said, "You can be my back-up for Love Potion Number Nine."
* * *
Phil glanced at his watch as he drove the Skylark to the school. Late. That stiff-necked assistant principal would probably chew his ass about it. It had taken him a while to come up with a fifties look. He assumed a Rebel-Without-A-Cause leather jacket over gray slacks and a black shirt. He'd have been on time if he hadn't gotten into it on the phone with Pam. Why every conversation had to turn into a battle he didn't know. He'd initiated it to try to keep peace.
"Pam, it's me, P
hil."
"Like I wouldn't recognize your voice."
"Listen I just wanted to let you know I mailed the support check today. I included a little extra for some school clothes for Melissa. I expect to see her in something better than the rags she's been wearing."
Pam's voice took on the tone of fingernails scratching a chalkboard. "Don't you dare criticize me, asshole."
"Okay, okay. Sorry. I'd like you to buy some better clothes for her. All right?"
"Well, I can tell you, Phil, an extra ten bucks isn't going to go that far."
"I sent more than ten dollars, for Chrissake!"
"Listen, I gotta go. Don't give me a hard time or I'll swear out a Victim Protection Order against you."
Phil swallowed his infuriated reply. "Wait. Are you going to let Melissa come to the game Saturday?"
"She said something about it." He could hear the calculation in her voice. "We'll see. We'll see how much extra money you sent. Bye."
Phil pounded the steering wheel remembering the conversation as the school gym came into view. In his current mood chaperoning a dance sounded worse than getting a tooth drilled.
Dance music blasted through the doors as Phil entered the gym. The end of a beehop song played as the drama teacher pranced in his electric suit on the stage talking to the crowd, telling jokes. Miss Harris stood next to the food table, flanked by Mr. Manchester and Phyllis Green.
Phil decided he might as well face the music and present his tardy butt before Miss Prim and Proper. As he reached the table, she lifted her hand to the side of her mouth and began chanting, "Elvis, Elvis, Elvis." The crowd picked up the refrain and soon the whole room rang with "Elvis, Elvis, Elvis."
On stage, Randy posed his hands on his hips and rolled his eyes, feigning modesty. "Well, if you insist..."
He nodded toward a red-haired girl who manned the karaoke machine. She punched a button and the first blasting chords of Jail House Rock reverberated in the room. Randy assumed an Elvis stance and began a lively imitation of the King. The kids ate it up, singing along, pretending to be playing their electric guitars.
Phil watched Miss Harris get into the spirit of the moment, clapping her hands in time to the music. Her full skirt rocked rhythmically. Tonight she wore her hair down, curled and pulled away from her face by a couple of barrettes. She wasn't hiding behind any glasses and her eyes shone as she enjoyed the antics of her friend on the stage. The cashmere sweater made her look soft and touchable.
Just as he suspected, the officious Miss Harris was a babe.
Maddie became aware of being watched and glanced to her left to see Mr. Wilcox staring at her with his macho grin. She immediately straightened up, crossed her arms in front of her and delivered her best "the Queen-is-displeased" expression. Of course, the poodle skirt took away from its effectiveness.
Phil laughed and walked to her, ignoring the other two teachers at her side. The music quieted down to Randy's crooning of Love Me Tender.
"You're late, Coach Wilcox," she said.
Phil pointed to his watch. "Your memo said 7:30."
"It did not."
"I'm sure it did."
"I don't think so." She frowned with doubt. Had she made a typo?
He grinned. Was he playing with her?
Phyllis Green moved in on Phil, taking him by an arm and shoving a plate of dainty sandwiches under his nose. "Coach, wouldn't you like a pimento cheese sandwich? I made them myself. Don't you just love these old romantic songs?"
Phineas Manchester resumed his boring diatribe on the political agenda of the National Education Association to Maddie. He had been leaning over her for the last half hour, expounding his opinions through gapped teeth. She scanned the dancers for inappropriate behavior and tried to tune out his penetrating drone.
Lord, her life had come to this–policing teenagers while fending off a middle-aged suitor with bad breath.
Just then a shoving match broke out across the room between two young bucks over a doe-eyed girl in a tight dress. Maddie immediately headed for the melee, certain her stern presence would stop the altercation. By the time she got there, a circle had formed. Bystanders egged them on.
Maddie stepped into the fray. "That's enough, you two boys!"
They totally ignored her.
Bobby Beasley, who came from a long line of good ole boys, shoved his black opponent, Rashid Jackson, again, saying, "Go to hell, Jackson!"
"You first, Beasley!" Jackson pushed back.
Seeing the fight escalating, Phil barged his way through the crowd. Maddie shouted inanities. Idiotically, she put herself right between the two hotheaded teens. Phil knew real punching would commence at any moment and Maddie would get either a black eye or a broken jaw for her troubles if she didn't get out of the way. Phil thought her the bravest, dumbest woman he had ever seen.
Bobby pulled his hand back into a fist, ready to plow around the annoying woman in his path and deck the taunting jerk across from him. Phil caught his arm and the back of his jacket, yanking him off his feet.
"Let's take it outside, Romeo," Phil said as he flipped Bobby around and shoved him toward the side door. Then he took three broad steps to Rashid, grabbed his arm and pulled him toward the exit also. When he caught up to Bobby, he put his hands at the back of both boys' collars and dragged them out the door, leaving Maddie standing in the circle of onlookers.
"All right," she said, "the show is over. Get back to your dancing or I'll pull the plug on the speakers and call it a night."
The crowd broke into pairs and dancing resumed. Randy played a soothing ballad to calm raging teenage hormones. When the song ended, he made an announcement.
"Well, kiddies, I have a nice surprise for you tonight. Before the dance started I had my mike tester sing a song and she really blew me away. I think with a little persuasion, I can get her to perform for you. Come on, give a big hand for Reba Finn!"
The crowd applauded politely, as they murmured among themselves. Most of them had never heard of Reba Finn. Reba took shy steps to the front as the spot engulfed her in white light.
Speaking softly into the microphone, her Arkansas twang echoed in the room. "Hey everybody. I hope ya'll like this song. It's one of my mama's favorites."
Maddie stood amazed and frightened that Randy would push Reba into a situation over her head. The girl didn't need public humiliation at this point in her life. But when the opening notes of the song began, Reba closed her eyes and a transformation took place. She became strong and hit the opening bars of Stand By Your Man with all the power of Tammy Wynette.
Maddie drifted to the stage, transfixed as Reba wrung every bit of drama out of the lyric. Maddie glanced at the back of the platform and noted Randy's smile of approval. They exchanged unspoken nods of wonder. Maddie knew her friend had struck gold. He loved finding a talented student to mentor. When the song ended, the room burst into spontaneous applause and Reba jumped a little, as if surprised to find herself before the audience. She gave a frightened smile, nodded and moved out of the spotlight. Randy put an arm around her, talking excitedly as he started the next song playing.
Phineas sidled up to Maddie. "You quelled that fighting incident admirably. I was getting ready to restrain those ruffians myself."
Maddie looked up at him. "Did you have to stop to tie your shoes?"
Phineas blinked at her. "What?"
Maddie sighed. "Never mind."
He pulled her into his gangly arms. "This is the perfect time for that dance you owe me."
"Oh, I don't think..."
But the determined Mr. Manchester had her in his stiff embrace and nothing short of a scene on her part would disengage him. So, Maddie found herself jammed against his coat lapel doing a box step, wishing she were on the planet Mars.
Phil returned to the dance floor, having put the fear of God into the two miscreants, looking to have a few words with the reckless Miss Harris. He spotted her in the beanpole English teacher's arms. He grinned at her pricel
ess expression of long-suffering endurance.
Phyllis Green's high-pitched voice reached him. "Oh, Coach Wilcox!"
He pretended he didn't hear her. He couldn't stand the thought of pushing the saccharine Home-Ec teacher around the dance floor. He made a straight line for Miss Harris and tapped Manchester on the shoulder.
"Hey, buddy, it isn't fair to monopolize the hottest chick at the dance."
Phineas appeared about to argue when the music changed to a rollicking American Bandstand standard geared to twists and spins that were completely out of Manchester's league.
Phineas made a little bow. "I'll get you another drink, Madeleine." He walked off in the direction of the food table, shooting Phil a look of complete disdain.
Phil and Maddie stood facing each other surrounded by energetic teenage dancers. He looked dangerous to her in his leather jacket and dark clothes. She looked damned cute to him in her cuddly fifties get up.
He took her hand. "Let's see what you're made of, Miss Harris."
An irresistible challenge, she spun into his arm and then out again and they were off. They danced in and out, up and down, moving and grooving to a fifties beat. Like Frankie and Annette incarnate, she even slid once under his legs and back again. Before long, the spotlight picked them up and everyone stopped to watch, clapping their encouragement.
She laughed, following Phil's fast-paced lead. His eyes never left her face as he enjoyed watching her toss her head back in merriment. They danced until the upbeat song mercifully ended. The circle of spectators applauded their appreciation as the couple stood panting holding hands, and they took a bow.
The lights changed, drenching the whole room in a blue tint and Randy began the strains of Blue Moon.