Reason Is You (9781101576151)

by Lovelace, Sharla

  There were a couple of random customers that morning, but when the bell jingled later and Marg told me to handle it alone, I bit at my lip. Especially when I saw it was a girl I knew from school. Sort of.

  She smiled sweetly at Marg and I remembered that same smile next to five other clones, giggling at me behind my back while their boyfriends openly leered behind theirs. I may have been too weird to talk to, but I still had tits and an ass and they all wanted a piece of the unknown.

  “Hi, Marg.”

  Marg looked unaffected by the charm. “Lisa. What can I help you with?”

  Another smile and a glance at me. Curiosity. Vague recognition. A plus B equals—bing!

  “Um—” The gaze flickered back to Marg. “Fifty-pound bag of wild bird feed and twenty-five-pound bag of cracked corn.” She flitted a hand toward the door. My son’s out there to help load.”

  The focus came back to me, much to my joy. The smile again. Unsure.

  “Dani Shane?”

  Act surprised. “Yes?”

  “It is you. Wow.” She laughed, and I watched as memory dawned. It was in the eyebrow. “Do you remember me? Lisa Lowe? We graduated together.”

  We did nothing together, but being a grown-up now, I pushed away the anxiety that broke me out in a sweat the instant she walked in. Instead, I feigned thinking about it. Former popular kids still need that rush, and I wasn’t about to give it to her.

  “Doesn’t ring a bell, but your face does look kinda familiar.” I smiled back. “How are you?”

  She blinked rapidly, obviously thrown off by someone not remembering her glory days as one of Shelby Pruitt’s groupies.

  “Good!” All the teeth came back on cue. “Really good. I’m Lisa Marlow now, married Dr. Marlow’s son, Carson. Do you remember him? He was a year ahead of us.” She fidgeted with a bracelet and tucked her hair back. Twice.

  I smiled back as I refused to remember him and shook my head. “Honestly, that was too long ago. I do good to remember last week,” I said, laughing, forcing her to laugh with me.

  “Well—yeah, I guess. Me, too.” Another laugh, although not a convincing one. “And we hung in different circles, so—”

  I nodded. She nodded. We were bonding, I suppose.

  “So, you’re back here now?”

  “Yes. Me and my daughter.”

  Eyes lit up. “Oh! How old is your daughter?”

  “She’s sixteen.”

  “So she’ll be a junior? So will my son.” Lisa pointed at the door where the elusive son supposedly waited anxiously to load bags. “Maybe they can meet up this summer so she’ll have a friend to start school.”

  It was everything in my power not to burst out laughing at that one. “Absolutely. I’m sure she’d appreciate that. It’s so hard to start over, especially at that age.” Or mine.

  “Oh, I can just imagine.” I saw the questions whiz through her little bottle-blonde brain.

  “So, what made you work here?” she whispered after Marg had left earshot. “I mean, didn’t you have some big-shot job in Dallas?”

  The hair on the back of my neck suddenly stood on end, my neon sign that a spirit was nearby. When my heart rate sped up as well, I knew it wasn’t just any spirit. Great.

  “Um—yeah,” I said, wanting to look around but stopped myself. “Layoffs. And in that world, when you make too much, no one under that wants to hire you because they know it’s temporary.”

  I knew that was condescending, but I couldn’t help myself. Ugh. She nodded and looked sympathetic, although I knew she didn’t really understand. Staying in Bethany, there’s no way she could.

  “So after a while, I had to suck it up. Had Riley to think of.”

  Her son came in and waved. A big guy, six foot–ish and buff.

  “Mom? It’s in the car.”

  “Okay, coming.”

  “Ask his age, Dani,” Alex said to my left, and I had to struggle not to jump and turn his way. I didn’t need that.

  “Uh—wow, he’s only sixteen?”

  She blinked and licked her lips. “Yeah, well, he—we held him back in junior high to help him out a little.”

  I nodded the mom nod of compassion. “Oh, okay.”

  “Well, good to see you again, Dani,” she said, now needing to exit before she divulged any other not-so-glorious tidbits.

  “You, too.”

  “And I can keep my ears open; if I hear of anything better, I’ll let you know,” she whispered conspiratorially.

  I just smiled. She left. I blew out a breath slowly and looked around for Marg, who hadn’t come back in yet.

  “What are you doing here, Alex?” I whispered toward the counter.

  “Come to check on you,” he said over my shoulder.

  “Well, quit. I don’t need anyone being reminded about me.”

  “You needed to put that bimbo in her place.”

  I chuckled. “Yeah, that part was kinda cool.” I touched my hair. “But I wish I’d gotten a little more ready this morning. I look like a ragdoll.”

  He leaned over on the counter in front of me so I had to look at him. “You blow her away just getting out of bed.”

  My stomach twisted like a teenager with a crush. How did he have that effect on me?

  “Yeah, yeah.”

  “Have fun,” he said with a wicked grin, and he disappeared down the hall.

  I scarfed down a bag of chips just as one of my mentors arrived. He was at least six foot five with whacked-out curly red hair peeking from beneath a Dallas Cowboys cap. His face glowed almost as red as his hair, and his belly strained at the buttons so hard I cringed every time he moved.

  Marg introduced me as Nathaniel’s daughter, and I held out my hand.

  “Hi, Dani Shane.”

  He did that barely-grab-the-fingertips thing that men sometimes do to shake a woman’s hand. Revolting.

  “Hank Turner, sugar.” Oh yeah, that made it better. “Didn’t know Nathaniel had a little girl.”

  That made my heart hurt a little for my dad.

  “I’ve been living in Dallas for the last twenty-one years, so—”

  Hank took off his cap and scratched through his curls. “Oh, well, I’ve only been around for a couple of years myself, and usually only see your dad when we’re launching or docking. So what brought you back here?”

  God, evidently. “Life just worked out that way,” I said, grinning.

  “Well, sugar, I look forward to showing you the south end tomorrow.” He winked.

  Ugh, a winker. I couldn’t stand men who wink. Except Alex. Somehow, my clothes wanted to fall off when he did it.

  “Sounds like a plan.”

  “It’s a date then, sweetheart,” he said as he pointed a finger at me. “Hey! What’s a minnow and a flounder have in common?”

  “Jesus,” Marg muttered.

  I just raised my eyebrows and smiled.

  “They’re both dinner for somebody.” He slapped the counter with a big beefy hand, and his whole belly shook with squeaky laughter over his joke. His face turned even redder.

  “Cute,” I said, winking. Why the hell not.

  “Oh, I got a lot more. But I’ll save them for tomorrow.”

  Lucky me. “Good deal.”

  “Not for you,” came another voice I didn’t recognize and briefly hoped was alive. It was.

  Hank wheeled around as what I’d call the anti-Hank strolled through the door. The smaller, older man gripped Hank’s hand and slapped him on the back, then turned to Marg and myself.

  “Ladies.”

  Marg laughed, and he pretended insult.

  “You’re so full of shit, Jiminy.”

  He shook my hand for real, and I liked him instantly.

  “You would be Dani.”

  A laugh escaped my throat as I tried to figure out what was familiar about him. “Yes, sir, I believe I would be. And you’re—Jiminy?”

  His eyes narrowed in his weathered face and sparkled with amusement. “Yes, ma�
��am.”

  “You can call him Cricket,” Hank said, sidestepping.

  “Not if you want me to answer,” he said, turning on Hank. Hank laughed and held his big palms up as Jiminy turned back to me. “Last name doesn’t matter. Jiminy works just fine.”

  The bell jingled behind them and I looked over their shoulders to see two guys walk in with a five-gallon bucket. Oh joy. Everybody did the manly shake and pump, exchanged greetings, found out how the kids were, threw out all the appropriate fishing lingo on what was biting where.

  It’s a small town. Of course they knew them. I knew them, too. Once upon a time, they were the leering boyfriends.

  Chapter 4

  ONE of them, Blaine (or as I’d now refer to him, the pudgy balding one), hadn’t changed his ways. The whole time he talked, he kept cutting his eyes my way. Oh, the memories.

  Hank bid his good-byes, promising great adventure for the next day, while Jiminy leaned on a shelf. He was a watcher, I noticed. Blaine finally made his way to “talk” to Marg and pay for the mud minnows I would be lucky enough to collect.

  He leaned forward on the counter. “How’s it going, Marg?”

  “Just peachy, and you?”

  “Can’t complain.” He looked my way as I tried desperately to not notice. “Sure got some good scenery in here today.”

  Okay, seriously? It was everything I could do not to hit the floor in hysteria. Even Marg’s expression reflected something similar, and she coughed behind her hand. I laughed lightly and held a hand out for the bucket. He took it instead and squeezed.

  “Blaine Wilson.”

  I smiled through the repulsion. “Dani Shane.”

  His slimy smile twitched a little as the name floated around the memory bank.

  “Dani Shane—didn’t you—” fumbled the other guy, otherwise known as Ricky. Or maybe it was Rick now, or Richard, or hell it could be Dick for all I knew. He left the question unfinished and pointed.

  “Yes, I did.”

  Blaine let my hand go and stood back upright. He maintained his smile but I guess he didn’t want to be infected by the suddenly tainted scenery. Ricky-Rick-Dick was a little less rotund and a little more couth.

  “Hey, I didn’t know you were back in town. How’ve you been?”

  “Great.” I looked down, not interested in catching up. “Just the one bucket?”

  Blaine came to his senses and cleared his throat. “Just the one.”

  “Five dozen,” Marg threw over her shoulder. “Fill the bucket half full and there’s a net on the wall.”

  I grabbed the bucket and headed back, with Jiminy on my heels. I looked back at him as I was enveloped by stench.

  “Come to see if I can manhandle some fish?”

  He shook his head. “Nah, saw you do that when you were seven. I figure you have it under control.”

  I stopped in mid-grab for the green mesh net dangling from a rusty nail.

  “What?”

  Jiminy grinned at me and then took the bucket from my hand and proceeded to fill it with water from the tap off the minnow vat.

  “Your dad and I are old friends. Used to go fishing now and then, sit around and make our own lures. You were always around.”

  “Really?” I racked my brain. “I don’t remember. I’m sorry.”

  “Remember throwing the casting net for minnows off the old point?”

  I smiled. “Wow, that’s going back.”

  He chuckled. “I taught you how.”

  I was mortified not to remember him. How embarrassing. “Oh my lord, I’m so sorry I can’t remember that.”

  “Don’t sweat it,” he said and waved it off. “Hell, I don’t remember anything before age sixteen myself. And that’s just because I got my license and the good life began.”

  I laughed. “My daughter’s sixteen.”

  “She driving?”

  “Technically, but I had to trade down and my current car embarrasses her, and then we moved here so she has nowhere to go.”

  I wielded the net and scooped up some of the panicky minnows, letting them slither through my fingers one at a time as I counted them into the bucket. If Dallas could see me now.

  “So, what’s that story out there?” Jiminy asked, thumbing behind him. I scooped up some more, wondering what he knew.

  “Just people I went to school with.”

  “Friends?”

  “Hardly.”

  He chuckled. “Got that impression. They’re both assholes, but they got what they deserved.” When I looked up, he continued. “Their wives are both uptight and bitchy and put them so far in debt they can’t find their ass with both hands.”

  I giggled at that and nearly dropped a wiggly one.

  “Oops, crap, I lost count.”

  He peeked in. “Throw in half a dozen more and it’s good.”

  I looked up. “You counted?”

  “No, but do you really think they’re going to? They’ll be drunk in an hour, anyway.”

  I shook my head and laughed. “You’re bad, Jiminy.”

  * * *

  WE headed out on the water, and I closed my eyes and gripped the edges of my seat, focusing on breathing. It wasn’t the time for anxiety to win. The smell—the spray on my face—the electricity on the water—was everything I loved about the river. Everything a storm would bring to me, like a teaser. It was exhilarating except for the bouncing movement across the waves that told me we were getting farther and farther from land. I opened my eyes and willed my morning coffee to stay put. We were out in the middle. I zeroed in on a bushy island to the left and counted the waves till we slowed up next to it.

  “You okay?” Jiminy asked.

  “I’m good.” I tried a small grin.

  He touched my arm. “Dani, you’re clammy and shaking. That’s far from good. What’s the matter?”

  I laughed, and it sounded weak to my ears, as the familiar buzzing rush that the river always brought me sang louder than my voice.

  “Nothing, I’m just—” I shrugged and tried to shake it off. “I just get nervous out on the water.”

  Jiminy chuckled. “You grew up on the water.”

  “Over there.” I pointed at the shore.

  “You went fishing.”

  I pointed again. “From over there.”

  He sat back and studied me for a second. “Hmm. Never realized that.”

  I shook my head, just wanting to get on with it. “Okay, teach me something.”

  Jiminy gave me a fish chart, a bait chart he’d made of what was biting on what, and a hat that said “Captain J” on the front.

  “Wow, you’re really organized.” I flipped through the laminated pages. “You update these every time it changes?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “That’s a lot of work.”

  He adjusted his hat. “People pay a lot of money.”

  We hit every possible cut and cove and sandbar on the north end of the pass. Jiminy didn’t say anything else, but he drove slower and closer to shore. I loved him for that.

  We saw Bessie Heights, Stutes Island, Coffee Ground Cove, among others. I knew them all, since they were on our end and accessible by land—sort of. Some of them were swampy. Saw a cute little houseboat docked right around the cove from my dad’s house. Then what was left of Coffee Ground Cove, which was my hiding place when I was a kid. It had an old abandoned dock and low-hanging trees, and I could disappear in there and pretend the world was beautiful.

  He told me what fish were where and why. Where the ridges were and where the breeding happened, and why the tides were important. He made me cast a couple of times, I guess to prove I could, and actually looked impressed that I remembered the big alligator that once resided in the second cut of Bessie Heights.

  “I named him Herman Munster when I was little.”

  He chuckled and then looked back at me again. “Sounds like something your mother would say.”

  I almost fell out of the boat. “What?”

&
nbsp; He nodded, still looking amused. “You’re Nadine, made over. Look and talk just like her.”

  My fingers went numb. “You knew my mother?”

  “Went to school together.”

  “So did my dad.”

  “Yep.”

  I was amazed. “What was she like?”

  Jiminy flipped over a laminated map and studied it, then grinned up at me. “I’m sure your dad’s told you all that, girl.”

  I shook my head. “I mean from someone else’s point of view. What do you remember about her?”

  His face got a faraway happy look as he looked away. “Her laugh. It was infectious.”

  There was a moment when the only sound was the water lapping the sides of the boat and a nearby frog doing a throaty warble. Then he came back to the present.

  He gestured toward the steering wheel. “Can you drive?”

  I raised my eyebrows and coughed. “On land.”

  He chuckled. “Want to give it a shot?”

  “Not even a little bit.”

  “Come on.” He got up and pointed for me to take the captain’s chair. “Face your fear. It’s easier than a car. No lanes.”

  Shit, shit, shit…“Is it really necess—”

  “Call it an adventure. Come on.”

  I made it without sinking us or running up on a sandbar, but I wouldn’t go look to do it again on purpose, either. Ever.

  Back at the shop at nearly closing, I was met at the door by Bob the bait guy. Marg told me that Bob was unique, and that was an understatement. Bob grinned up at me from all of five foot two, with a large gap between his front teeth and tattoos all over his body. But that was nothing. Bob was a one-legged, very hairy, weather-worn man in blue jean shorts, a metal fake leg, and sneakers. Oh, and he had a hump on his back. I kid you not.

  “Nice to meet ya,” he said in the gravelly voice of a lifelong smoker, shaking my hand like a man. I couldn’t help but like him.

  He loaded up the bait vats, saluted me with a smile, and headed to his trailer, squeaky pole leg and all.

  I closed up shop according to Marg’s notes and thought she was awfully brave to leave that to me on the first day. Guess I made a good first impression. Well, to be fair, she’d already taken all but one hundred dollars to the bank, so it wasn’t like I was left with Fort Knox.