Unraveled

by Heidi McCahan

  “C’mon.” Tisha linked her arm through his. “I need a partner for the three-legged race.”

  He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. She’d probably caught him staring at Lauren and figured he’d needed a diversion. You know what? She was right. “I haven’t done a three-legged race in ages. Let’s see if I’ve still got it.”

  “You two have fun. We’ve got this covered,” Mrs. Carter said.

  Lauren sagged in the folding chair and drew a long sip of the Diet Coke Shannon had brought with their lunch. Slipping off her shoe, she rubbed her aching foot. Again, the peep toe wedges were a bad decision. She set down her drink and reached for the bowl of red tickets, twisting it in a circle. She’d stopped counting after Mom sold the two hundredth raffle ticket. Some lucky couple would receive their prize package at the dance tomorrow night.

  A cheer went up from the crowd gathered around the main stage. Lauren turned in her seat to see Jeremy pumping his fist in the air, while Blake stood beside him, whipped cream smeared across his jaw. Thoughts of their moments together at the Inn, her own fingers caressing that very jaw—familiar feelings stirred deep within. What if the Sullivan’s hadn’t knocked on the door? Stop. You. Are. Ridiculous. While Jeremy basked in the applause, Blake lifted another pie from the table and planted it squarely in Jeremy’s face. The crowd roared with laughter. Lauren shook her head. Boys.

  “He’s adorable, isn’t he? Even with whip cream all over his face.”

  Lauren whipped back around to find Shannon standing next to her, a satisfied smile stretching from ear to ear. “Shannon. You sure know how to sneak up on a girl.”

  “If you weren’t so busy admiring the scenery, you would’ve heard me coming, right?”

  Lauren squirmed under Shannon’s knowing gaze. “I wasn’t admiring anything.”

  “Of course not. I’m sure you—”

  A loud ragtime piano tune drowned out their conversation. “What in the world?” Lauren stood up and craned her neck to see what was going on. The crowd parted to allow a black pick-up truck towing a mobile jail to roll down Main Street. Women in costumes reminiscent of those once worn by Emerald Cove’s many saloon girls posed in the bed of the truck. At least four more ladies were inside the trailer, waving through the metal bars and blowing kisses.

  “You cannot be serious.” Shannon shook her head in disbelief. “If my grandmother was here, she’d throw an absolute fit.”

  “Well, she better not find out who’s in the driver’s seat,” Lauren pointed to the truck.

  “What?” Shannon followed Lauren’s finger to Jess sitting behind the wheel. She narrowed her eyes. “He’s in so much trouble.”

  Jess stopped the truck and the music faded. The mayor climbed out of the passenger seat, dressed in a vintage police officer’s uniform. He adjusted his wide-brimmed hat and surveyed the crowd. When his eyes rested on Lauren, he spoke to Jess and then made his way towards her.

  “Oh, no.” Her heart lodged in her throat. “I think he’s coming for me.”

  “That’s crazy. What would he want with you?”

  “Are you Lauren Carter?” The mayor stopped in front of her, his bushy moustache emphasizing his exaggerated frown.

  Lauren swallowed hard and nodded.

  “Mr. Thompson, what’s going on? Of course she’s Lauren Carter.” Shannon wedged herself between the mayor and Lauren.

  “I’ve an outstanding warrant for your arrest.” He unfolded a crumpled piece of paper and pretended to read it. “Says here you were responsible for another’s demise and never paid your dues. We’ve come to extract justice.”

  Lauren’s vision blurred. Was this somebody’s idea of a joke? The hoosegow used to be all in a good fun, a humorous tribute to the town’s once-lawless ways during the historic gold rush. But the mayor’s proclamation hit dangerously close to home. Another’s demise?

  “Can’t she buy her way out?” Shannon asked. “I thought all proceeds benefitted the playground fund.”

  “She can.” The mayor nodded. “One hundred dollars is the going rate.”

  Lauren didn’t even bother to hide her surprised laughter. She didn’t have a hundred bucks and her purse was back at the Inn. “Well, that settles it, then. I guess I’m going for a ride.” Face flaming with embarrassment at the hoots and catcalls coming from the onlookers, Lauren followed the mayor to the back of the trailer. The obnoxious music began playing from the mounted speakers and the door opened. Two young ‘saloon girls’ smiled and beckoned her inside. She climbed into the makeshift cell, accepted the pink feather boa they draped around her shoulders and looked around for a place to sit.

  Blake sat on the wooden bench seat mounted in the middle of the hoosegow, wearing a royal blue feather boa. He met her gaze, eyes dancing with amusement, and patted the empty spot next to him. “Welcome to the party.

  twenty two

  Blake watched Lauren walk toward him, cheeks flushed and her eyes flashing. The set of her jaw told him everything he needed to know. She sank onto the bench seat next to him, and stared out at the crowd lining Main Street. He nudged her shoulder. “This is supposed to be fun, you know.”

  She refused to look at him. “Is this your idea of a good time?”

  “Trapped in this sweet ride, wearing my own feather boa, and surrounded by beautiful ladies … what’s not to like?”

  Her lower lip quivered before she trapped it behind her teeth. Uh oh. She was getting upset. He was going to clobber Jess when this was all over. “Cough up a Benjamin and you’ll be outta here.”

  She scuffed her shoe against the gritty floor of the hoosegow, gripping the bench with both hands as they started to roll forward. “Believe me, I would if I could. The mayor said I was in here because I caused another’s demise.”

  He tugged on one end of her boa. “He’s messing with you. I’m sure somebody told him about your incident with Susannah.”

  She shook her head. “This has nothing to do with Susannah.”

  He clenched his teeth. These mysterious references to her past were getting old. “Is this some kind of a game? If your deep, dark secret is that much of a burden, why don’t you just spill it?” There. He’d said it.

  Her spine went rigid. She lifted her chin and stared at him. A tumultuous cloud of surprise, anger and frustration flashed in her eyes. “Do you really want to talk about this now?”

  Warning bells chimed in his head. The dam that held his emotions in check started to fissure, slowly at first. Then the words began to tumble out before he could inspect them. “I know you thought you came here to parade that fiancé of yours around town and plan your dream wedding—”

  “That was before he dumped me. Thanks for rubbing salt in that wound.”

  “Did you stop to consider maybe it was for your own good?”

  She pressed her lips into a thin line and shook her head. “I can’t believe this. Are you going to give me the come to Jesus talk?”

  “Do you need it?” He reached out and tucked a wild curl behind her ear, then let his hand rest on her shoulder. She closed her eyes but didn’t move out of reach. Heart pounding in his chest, he decided to go for broke. “I’ve loved you a long time, Lauren Carter, and you can’t fool me. Whatever it is, the gig is up. You need to let it go.”

  Lauren’s eyes opened, two green pools of hurt and despair, moist with fresh tears. His heart ached. He longed to pull her into his arms but everything about her warned him not to close the distance between them. Mayor Thompson’s voice boomed through the loudspeaker as he identified his next prisoners, superintendent Maxwell and his wife. Blake groaned and dropped his chin to his chest. Please. No. Of all the people to pile in the hoosegow at a time like this.

  He raised his head and prayed they’d buy their way out. The couple stood at the ring toss game, cheering as their grandson tried to win a prize. The color drained from Mrs. Maxwell’s face when the hoosegow stopped and the mayor called her name a second time. Mr. Maxwell made a big show of open
ing his wallet and extracting several bills. The mayor climbed out of the truck, bull horn in hand. He offered generous praise for the donation to the playground fund and shook Mr. Maxwell’s hand. The crowd cheered and then the obnoxious piano music began to play again.

  Lauren jumped up from the bench, swiped angrily at the dampness on her cheeks. “Do you have your phone?”

  Blake pulled his smartphone from his pocket. “Yes. Why?”

  “Text Jess. Tell him I need out. Now.”

  “Are you okay?” One of the high school girls riding with them must have noticed the tears. Her eyes were wide with concern, false eyelashes batting against her cheek as she touched Lauren’s arm. Blake fired off a quick text to Jess. They needed to get her out of there before she made a scene.

  “No.” Lauren brushed past her and went to the tailgate, kicking against it with the sole of her shoe.

  “Lauren, hang on.” Blake shoved his phone in his pocket and went after her. “Wait a minute, we’ll get you out.”

  He wasn’t sure getting between her and that door was the best idea but her emotions were escalating and the harder she pounded on the plywood with her fist, the more people in the crowd were starting to notice. He wrapped his arms around her from behind, pulling her against him. She writhed and twisted, fighting to break free.

  “Let me go,” she hissed.

  “I’ll let you go when he opens the door and not a minute sooner. You’ve got to calm down, people are watching.” He spoke into her ear, forcing a firm and soothing tone, masking the panic that shredded his insides. What in the world just happened here?

  Jess was out of the cab and heading toward the back of the hoosegow, a mischievous gleam in his eye. He opened his mouth, no doubt to fire off a smart remark. Blake gave him his most pointed stare and shook his head slightly. Don’t.

  Jess clamped his lips shut and lowered the tailgate, a bewildered expression on his face when he noticed the tears. “Come on out. Party’s over,” he mumbled.

  Blake released his hold and Lauren was out of the hoosegow, curls and boa bouncing against her yellow dress like a fiery comet.

  “Whoa.” Jess watched her go. “She is ticked. What did you do?”

  “I told her I’d loved her a long time. Apparently that was not what she wanted to hear.” He squeezed Jess’s shoulder. “Say a prayer for me. I’m going in.” Blake followed Lauren through the crowd and down to the waterfront. Most of the people milling about wore the navy and white outerwear that signified they were passengers on the Columbia Princess, the current cruise ship in port. At least that lessened the chances of someone they knew well interrupting his pursuit.

  He kept his distance, since that dress and hair were easy to spot. When she ran out of sidewalk, Lauren simply sank onto the nearest bench overlooking the water and wrapped her arms around her torso. His chest tightened. Lord, give me wisdom and patience because I’m lacking in both. Drawing a deep breath and exhaling slowly, he walked up to the bench and sat down near her. A breeze was blowing off the water, carrying a tangy cocktail of diesel fuel and fish from the boats returning with another day’s catch. A feather in her boa came loose, floating gently toward the ground. “Talk to me. What’s got you so rattled?”

  She reached for the locket around her neck, zinging it back and forth on its chain. A wan smile stretched across her face. Somehow he knew her words would be anything but funny. He steeled himself for whatever came next. “Most girls dream of finding a guy like you. First you’re helping my family out, then you kiss me like—like I haven’t been kissed in a very long time—now you tell me you’ve loved me forever and all I can think about is how horribly selfish I’ve been.”

  “Love covers a multitude of wrongs. Doesn’t it?”

  “Don’t you see?” She turned and faced him, brow furrowed. “It’s too much. I don’t deserve you.”

  “Believe me, I’ve said the same thing about a million times. If only my heart would listen.” He dragged his palms down the legs of his jeans. “I crashed and burned after you left. Wasted every night of the week, hanging out with people who were going nowhere fast—”

  “That explains why you never called me.”

  Anger and resentment bubbled up inside. “Believe it or not, calling the girl who ripped your heart out and stomped on it is frowned upon when you’re in detox.”

  She flinched. “What did you say?”

  “I did ninety days of in-patient rehab, missed a semester of school. Then I had to beg to get my basketball scholarship back. It’s only by the grace of God that I’ve stayed sober … eight years this October.”

  She pressed her knuckles to her lips, tears brimming in her eyes yet again.

  Blake tipped his head back and stared at the sky, his knee bouncing as he slung one arm along the back of the bench. “You’re probably wondering why I’m telling you all this.”

  She shook her head. “No. I—I need to hear it.”

  “This isn’t a guilt trip. I just—” He raked his fingers through his hair. “From the minute I touched you at baggage claim, I knew. I knew I was going to fall all over again.” He turned toward her, his heart in his throat.

  “What are you trying to say?”

  “I need to know how you feel. About me. About us. You can’t kiss me like that, then tell me it was a mistake. I won’t be your rebound guy. I need to know you aren’t going to run as soon as life throws a curveball.”

  She stared out at the water. “But running’s what I do best, don’t you think?”

  He closed his eyes, shaking his head slowly. “Please. Just put me out of my misery, okay? I’m dying here.”

  “You’re right. I shouldn’t have led you on. My life is one hot mess right now and you need someone who can commit. I get it.” She paused and he opened his eyes, hoping this was the moment she’d finally break free of the burden she carried. “I’ve got an interview in Portland next week. If they make an offer, I plan to accept it. I’m sorry, Blake. I can’t be what you need.”

  Blake pressed his lips into a thin line and stared straight ahead, his vision blurring. Her words broke over him like a rogue wave, dousing any embers of hope he’d clung to. He wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of watching him fall apart. Pushing up from the bench, he forced himself to look her in the eye. “Well, I guess I know where we stand. See you around.” He stormed off, knuckling away a tear. At least his shop was across the street and he could hide out until he pulled himself together.”

  twenty three

  The morning of the race dawned cool and bright. Lauren whispered a prayer of thanks. This day was going to be hard enough. Although rain and dense fog matched her mood, it wasn’t ideal for a relay race. She’d spent another night sleeping fitfully, waking often with yesterday’s conversation stuck on repeat in her mind. What a disaster. If Blake found out the truth now, he’d never forgive her. That stupid hoosegow rolled up and she’d lost her mind. He’d been so tender and honest, while she’d done nothing but wound him. All over again.

  Swinging her legs over the side of the bed, she slipped out of her pajamas and pulled on her running tights and the oldest t-shirt she could find. The trail up the hill to the water tower would be a muddy, slippery mess. She glanced at the faded letters on her shirt. Look at that. Her lucky shirt. Huh. Wasn’t she wearing it the last time she won the race? Well, a good luck charm never hurt. She’d need all the help she could get today. She twisted her hair into a long braid and splashed water on her face. The aroma of bacon and cinnamon rolls wooed her downstairs.

  “There’s our girl.” Dad smiled as she dropped her running shoes at the bottom of the stairs and headed for the coffee maker.

  “Morning.” She stood on tiptoe and planted a kiss on his rough cheek.

  “Are you ready for the race?” Mom stood at the oven with the door open, mitts on both hands as she lifted a pan of cinnamon rolls onto a trivet.

  Butterflies fluttered in her stomach, mixing with the shame and guilt she already housed.
“I’m a little anxious.”

  Dad patted her shoulder. “You’ll be great. Just have fun.”

  “Can I fix you a plate?” Mom offered.

  Lauren splashed half and half in her coffee. “I’ll get it. I don’t want to eat too much.” She couldn’t stand running on a full stomach.

  “I can give you a ride down to the starting line when you’re ready,” Dad said.

  “Thanks. Let me pound this coffee and I’ll be ready to go.”

  Mom slid a cinnamon roll onto her plate. Lauren wrinkled her nose. “Mom, I can’t eat that before a race.”

  “It’s carbohydrates. Besides, this is Cove to Creek, not the state championship.”

  Lauren ducked her head and loaded her fork with scrambled eggs. It was too early to argue.

  Footsteps in the hallway interrupted their conversation and Lauren turned to watch Mr. and Mrs. Sullivan as they strolled into the kitchen. Lauren struggled to hide her amusement. He was dressed for an expedition in the Arctic while Mrs. Sullivan looked like she stepped off the pages of Vogue.

  Dad caught her eye and hid his smile behind his coffee cup.

  “Good morning.” Mom hugged them both and offered coffee.

  “I’m ready to go,” Lauren whispered before sliding out of her chair. She was too anxious to eat anything else. Besides, Aunt Jane would wander in soon and Lauren didn’t want to hear her critical commentary of the Cove to Creek. She’d heard enough last night when they’d spent a couple of hours sorting through Granny’s things. Aunt Jane hadn’t said one kind word about Emerald Cove since she’d arrived. Maybe that meant she wouldn’t stay much longer.

  Dad grabbed his jacket, jangling his car keys.

  “Where are you off to this morning?” Mrs. Sullivan’s berry red lips curved in a curious smile.