Never Enough Thyme

by Juliet MacLeod

  Adele Vincent clapped her hands together in front of her and made the most indecorous whooping sound. Patty looked as though she was going to cry. “Congratulations to Adele Vincent for winning this year’s best cake!” Jakob said, wrestling the mic away from Doris who had smothered it between her ample bosom and Adele’s scant one as the two women embraced. “Now, who wants a piece?”

  After releasing Doris from her embrace, Adele snatched the mic from Jakob. “I just want to thank Jakob, Doris, and Sam for awarding me this prize,” she said with a huge smile. “And I want to let everyone know that I intend to donate all of my prize money to the Food Pantry. And further, I want to announce my retirement. This will be the last year I’ll enter one of my cakes. After a twenty-year run, it’s time to let someone else be Cake Queen.”

  This announcement was met with a round of appreciative applause. Even the losers of the contest perked up momentarily before family members and friends came to comfort them. Jakob, armed with a huge knife, began cutting into the cakes, while Doris spooned out small bowls filled with the trifles, and Sam handed out scones.

  “I’m going to get some of Lorelei’s scones before they’re all gone,” Mark said, rising to his feet. “You ladies want something?”

  “I’ll have a scone, too,” Jennifer said. “And get Bryony some of Adele’s cake. I like when she’s catty.”

  Mark chuckled and waded into the crowd. Even in the thick of it, it was easy to follow his progress toward the front of the tent. He stood head and shoulders above most of the rest of the villagers.

  “So,” Jennifer said, turning to face me. I did not like the calculating expression I saw on my best friend’s face. I braced for the inevitable: a discussion of my lackluster love life. “The dance is next Saturday.”

  I groaned softly and leaned forward, pressing my forehead against the table in front of me. “I’m going stag,” I said, my voice muffled by the tablecloth and the silk scarf around my neck. I’d been trying to line up a date for weeks, since just after Memorial Day in fact, but couldn’t find a single man who didn’t make me want to join a nunnery. In Austria.

  “You’re going in drag?”

  I sat up and gave Jennifer a withering look. “Stag, Jennifer. Stag. Alone. Sans date. Without an escort. Single.”

  Jennifer grinned and elbowed me. “I know. I just wanted to needle you a bit. Can’t get a date?”

  “Don’t want to get a date,” I replied, wanting to be indulgently sullen. I even crossed my arms over my chest.

  “Glynis bothering you again about being divorced and childless?”

  That earned her a scowl. “Do you two coordinate the abuse? Does my mother call you up on the phone once a week and assign days to you, so there’s never a time when I don’t hear how I’m forty-three years old, divorced, and childless? Or that I’m still a looker and should really have no problem finding a man if I just tried harder?”

  “Not every guy is like Bill,” Jennifer said with compassion. “They’re not all jerks.”

  “No, I know that. It’s just... I’m happy, Jen. Honestly happy. Work is great. I have wonderful friends. And I have Beryl, too. I don’t need a boyfriend to be happy.”

  “Beryl is a cat.” I snorted and opened my mouth to say something, but Jennifer held her hand up. “I know, I know. You don’t need a boyfriend to be happy or fulfilled. You are an independent woman, strong, employed, a homeowner, a business owner, breeder of blue-ribbon Nubian goats. A pillar of the community. But wouldn’t it be nice to come home to someone? Besides Beryl, I mean.”

  I shrugged but was thankfully saved from further discussion of my dating habits by Mark’s return. I ate a slice of Adele’s cake in silence, robbing Jennifer of the pleasure of listening to me be catty. Instead, I listened to the Baxter’s conversation about mundane affairs—grocery shopping, their kids’ activities, dinner at Jennifer’s parent’s house, Mark’s work schedule for the next week. Jennifer and Mark were high school sweethearts but had known each other almost as long as Jen and I had. They got married after Jennifer graduated from the University of Colorado in Boulder. She’d followed him throughout his many deployments to various domestic Marine bases, and had been his rock when he’d served in the Middle East. They’d raised two beautiful, smart, good kids. They worked well together, and they knew how lucky they were. They didn’t take their relationship or each other for granted. I had to admit that I was a little jealous. If I were one hundred percent honest with myself, I’d admit that I wanted something like that, a true partnership, not just a significant other. There was one guy who I thought might foot the bill, one guy whom I’d pined for since sophomore year of high school.

  “I want to go with Dean,” I said.

  Jennifer and Mark both looked at me, confusion stamped plain on their faces.

  “To the dance,” I said. “Next Saturday.”

  “Dean,” Mark said. “The sheriff? Dean Jensen?”

  “Yes,” I said. “The sheriff.” Mark and Jennifer exchanged a complicated look that I couldn’t interpret. “What? What’s with the look? He’s not seeing anyone, is he? Adele said he broke up with that Denver oil lawyer he was seeing.”

  “She’s right. They did break up,” Jennifer said. “But... Dean? Are you sure?”

  “What’s wrong with him? We were so close in high school. He’s gorgeous. Employed. Reliable. Smart. Did I mention handsome?”

  “Handsome, sure. Positively delicious, even,” Mark said with his customary dry, sarcastic delivery. “But he’s law enforcement. His job is as dangerous as mine was when I was still with the Marines.”

  I split a level look between Jennifer and Mark. “He’s the sheriff of Clear Creek County, guys. It’s not like we have a lot of crime here. No gangs. No drugs. The last murder we had was, what, twenty years ago?”

  Jakob Jørgensen’s voice boomed over the speakers in the tent, interrupting further objections from Jennifer or Mark. “We’ll begin judging the fishing derby in ten minutes, folks. There’s just enough time to make your way over to the lakeshore before then. Hope to see all of you there!”

  I rose and gathered up my trash. “I’m going to see if I can find Dean. Meet you at the lakeshore.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  As I was leaving the tent, I finger-combed through the ends of my wavy brown hair and smoothed down the front of my t-shirt. Red was my color, or so Jen liked to point out. I knew I looked good in the t-shirt, slim black jeans, and black Converse, but I wanted to check my face before finding Dean. What if cake frosting was smeared all over my mouth? What if my mascara or liner had run, making me look like Alice Cooper? Now that I had finally, after more than twenty-five years of knowing and pining, decided to pursue a romantic relationship with Dean, I had to look perfect.

  I moved off to the side of the tent and fished in my purse for a compact. I opened it up and checked my face. Sure enough, there was a smudge of dark green fondant in the corner of my mouth. Taking a tissue out of my purse, I dabbed at the fondant, muttering benign imprecations about both of the Baxters. They’d been looking at my face all this time and hadn’t bothered to tell me I looked like I was slowly turning into Oscar the Grouch. After making sure the fondant was completely wiped away, I returned the compact and tissue to my purse and glanced around the immediate area. I spotted Dean standing amongst a group of people, who were talking and laughing with him.

  I waited for a moment until the crowd around the sheriff dispersed. The wait afforded me the opportunity to observe him. He really was incredibly handsome—tall, well-built, and tanned from hours spent outdoors. He had short, sandy blond hair, intense green eyes, full lips, and a dimpled chin. He was an Adonis, a god of masculine beauty who graced Saxon Lake with his presence. I had been interested in dating Dean since our sophomore year of high school, but we’d ended up being just close friends. If he hadn’t been a genuinely nice person, I doubted my infatuation with him would have lasted much beyond that year. But he was as kind and generous as he was h
andsome, and both qualities were irresistible to me.

  Dean must have felt me staring at him across the lawn, because he looked over and smiled. I could feel fire rising in my cheeks, but managed to hide my embarrassment as I approached him. My heart was pounding in my chest, and my palms were sweaty. I was a little disgusted with myself for having such a ridiculous reaction to him. He was just a guy, after all. But man, oh man. Whatta guy.

  “Afternoon, Bryony,” Dean said once I was standing next to him. “Enjoying the Fest so far?”

  “I am. You?”

  “Yeah. Nice turn out.” He glanced away, eyes narrowed against the sun, bringing out the crow’s feet around them. My heart contracted a little. So handsome. “Nice day, too, even if it is a bit chilly.”

  “Going to watch the fishing derby judging?”

  “Yeah, for a little while. I should circulate, though. Gotta keep those lowlanders straight.”

  I smiled at his characterization of the tourists. “Walk with me?” I asked, shocked by my own boldness. But I figured I’d wanted to go out with him for the better part of the past three decades. Perhaps a little boldness was in order.

  Dean looked at me for a moment, an unreadable expression on his face. Then he smiled, and my heart did a backflip. “Sure.” He offered me his arm, and I tucked mine through it, resting my palm on his forearm. It was as hard as wood, and he was so warm I could feel it through the layers of our clothing. I was pretty sure I was about to melt into a puddle of goo.

  “Jennifer and Mark and the kids here?” he asked as we traveled over the expansive lawn towards the lakeshore.

  “Yeah. Kim’s off with her friends; I suspect that boys are involved in the equation.”

  “She’s, what, thirteen now?”

  “Yes. Almost fourteen, in fact.”

  “I remember. The opposite sex was a strangely enticing subject at that age.”

  I chuckled. “Still is.” My brain caught up to my mouth, and I rushed to say, “I mean, for some people. You know, some people our age who are still obsessed with the opposite sex. That’s all they talk about. They still have crushes. And...” I trailed off, hoping against hope that a hole would open up in the ground in front of me and swallow me. “Oh, bother.”

  Dean laughed and patted my hand where it rested on his forearm. “I understand what you’re saying. And you’re right. For some people, the search for a mate is all-consuming. I don’t understand that.”

  “Yeah,” I said, my heart dropping into my stomach. “Me, either.” Was he talking about me? Did he somehow know that I had been crushing on him since we were sixteen? Did he know that I was trying to summon up the courage to ask him out on a date? Was he preparing me for the eventual let-down? I obsessed over his words and barely registered the people who greeted us as we passed them.

  We arrived at the lakeshore before I could puzzle out the answers to all my questions and skirted around the edge of the crowd already gathered until I spotted Mark and Jennifer. I steered Dean towards the couple and let go of his arm when I saw the twin knowing looks on the Baxter’s faces. I gave Jennifer a narrow-eyed glare before taking a step or two away from Dean, not enough to make him wonder if he smelled badly—he didn’t; he smelled great, like leather and pine trees and ozone—but enough that I wouldn’t generate any gossip if Adele caught sight of us arm in arm. That’s all I needed; my mother hearing about this. She’d milk it for months.

  “There you are,” Jennifer said to me. “About time. Did you get lost? Or were you... distracted?” Her smile was wicked.

  “Where’s Stephen?” I asked, squashing down the urge to slug Jennifer in the arm. “Did he catch anything?”

  “We don’t know yet,” Mark said. “They’re still calling them in from the water.” He turned to Dean and held out his hand. “Afternoon, Dean.”

  “Hey, Mark,” Dean said, shaking Mark’s hand before pulling him in for one of those complicated, one-armed, back-slapping sorts of man hugs. They released each other, and Dean gave Jennifer’s shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Jennifer. How are you today? Is Stephen competing?”

  “Yeah,” Jennifer said. “He’s out there, hoping to catch Melville, just like everyone else.” She shook her head. “That sucker has got to be the Einstein of fish by now. So many people have tried to catch him.”

  Dean chuckled. “Yeah, I doubt anyone ever will. If he even exists.” He turned to look out over the lake and nodded towards it. “Looks like everyone’s coming up.”

  We all moved forward a couple of steps, crowding closer to the small wooden platform that had been set up on the edge of the water. Jakob Jørgensen, Mayor Bartlett, and Sam Cohen stood with half a dozen others—men, women, and children—waiting for the official weighing and measuring of the fish. As each entrant’s biggest catch—in one unfortunate man’s case, only catch—were weighed, their measurements were called out.

  It came down to Barry Shubitz, the only lawyer in Saxon Lake, and Stephen. A man from the Fish & Wildlife department carefully measured and weighed each of their best fish. He reported his findings to Jakob, who frowned and called a conference with the mayor and the librarian. Barry and Stephen exchanged nervous, confused looks until Jakob returned from the brief conference.

  “Well, folks,” he said, a bewildered expression on his handsome face. “We’ve got an unprecedented occasion today. We’ve got a tie. Mr. Shubitz’s fish is heavier than Mr. Baxter’s, but Mr. Baxter’s is longer. We’ll be awarding $500 to each man! Congratulations!”

  Jennifer squealed and jumped up and down before hugging Mark. There was applause from the crowd, and people waited to congratulate each contestant. I caught sight of Viki Childress, the twenty-something girl who worked in my mom’s bookshop, pushing through the crowd, rudely shoving people aside in her hurry to speak with Barry. They seemed to have a heated argument once she’d reached him, but I was too far away to hear anything. Barry’s bearded, weathered face turned red with anger, but as Viki kept hammering at him, his expression became frightened. He finally shook his head and made a slashing motion with his hand before turning away and disappearing into the crowd. Viki watched him go for a moment, a dark and dangerous look on her face, her fists curling and uncurling at her sides before stomping off in the opposite direction.

  “Hey, did you guys—” I looked around for Jennifer, Mark, and Dean and found that they’d left me to go congratulate Stephen. I huffed in annoyance and went to join them.

  CHAPTER THREE

  When I caught up with the others, I gave Stephen a hug, squeezing him proudly and planting a kiss on his cheek, prompting an alarming blush from the boy. “Congrats, buddy!” I said. “What’re you gonna do with that money?”

  “Save it,” Jennifer said.

  “Spend it,” Stephen said at the same time.

  Mark chuckled before saying, “How about you put half in your saving account and spend the rest?”

  “I’ll accept that,” Jennifer said. She turned to Dean. “Have you had lunch yet?”

  “No, I was just going to—”

  “Oh, good. You and Bryony can go get something from the Raven and Fox. They’re catering lunch today. Bryony loves their club sandwiches. And she has a question she needs to ask you. You can have a nice meal and discuss her question.”

  I gave Jennifer the most withering look I could summon up. “I don’t,” I said to Dean. “Have a question, I mean. I do, however, really love their club sandwiches.”

  “Yeah,” said Jennifer. “She does. Have a question.” She reached out and put her hands on both Dean’s back and mine and gave us a gentle shove in the direction of the pub’s tent.

  Dean cast a confused look back and forth between me and Jennifer, but gave in and started walking towards the tent. I lingered long enough to shoot Jennifer another death glare before falling in beside Dean as he moved across the lawn. She merely smiled benignly at me and turned back to her family.

  “She’s so bossy sometimes,” I said to Dean. “Must come from
being a mother. Lord knows Glynis is bossy.”

  Dean smirked. “Your mother is a hoot.”

  ‘“A hoot,’ huh? What are you, seventy-two years old? Who even talks like that?”

  The look Dean gave me was a pale shadow of the one I’d given Jennifer just minutes ago. It did not have the desired effect, however. It only made me grin.

  “So what’s this question you have for me?” Dean asked.

  I rolled my eyes. “It’s nothing, really. Just Jennifer being pushy.” We entered the tent that was now filled with the scents of frying bacon, hot soup, and French fries. There were still pieces of the prize-winning cakes, a few globs of trifle, and a solitary scone left on the long table at the front of the tent. I sidled over to the scone, looked around, and then stuck it in my purse for later. It would be a nice treat that night with a cup of Earl Grey cream tea.

  Dean chuckled. “It’s not about the dance next week, is it?”

  I froze and looked up at Dean with wide, deer-caught-in-the-headlights eyes. “How... How did—”

  There was a loud thump and the rattle of dishware and glasses breaking. Someone screamed. Someone else was making the most horrible sounds I had ever heard. Dean sprang into action, shoving his way through the crowd towards the front of the tent. I followed in his wake, taking note of the looks of horror on people’s faces. What had happened?

  Dean fell to his knees, and I saw someone writhing on the floor in front of him. Viki Childress was standing opposite Dean and me, looking down at the body, confusion and fright on her face as she gripped hands with her boyfriend, Gordon Oakes. I stood at Dean’s back and looked over his shoulder, finally able to see what had happened.

  Barry Shubitz was lying on the floor, writhing in obvious agony. There was a shattered glass of spilled lemonade lying on the ground next to him and an overturned bowl of salad at his elbow. His face had gone an alarming shade of purplish-red, and he was clutching his throat. His tongue and eyes protruded from his face, and there were long claw marks up and down the sides of his neck. I shuddered in horror, and the world went a little fuzzy and gray at the edges.