“I think I’d better get back to Aunt Berry’s,” she told him after a while. “She might start to worry.”
“I’ll walk you back.” He started reeling in the line.
“You don’t have to, but thanks.”
“I want to. Besides, I’m done fishing for the day.”
“But you didn’t catch anything yet,” she pointed out.
“I didn’t really expect to.” He secured the hook to the rod and picked up the bucket. “I just like to come and sit by the river sometimes. Fishing’s just an excuse to be here.”
She walked off to get her bike then returned to the path that followed the flow of the river, and joined her new friend. They were almost to Berry’s house when he said softly, “My little sister died in April. She was only four, and she was sick for a really long time.”
Dallas was so stunned that at first she couldn’t speak. When she finally found her voice, she said, “I am so sorry.”
“Yeah.” He nodded solemnly. “So am I.…”
* * *
From downstream on the riverbank, Grant had watched the small army of girls descend on the unsuspecting new kid who’d been sitting by herself for the past twenty minutes or so. Grant had been on his way to a point about a hundred yards beyond where the girl sat when he’d heard her sobbing as if her heart was about to break. Not wanting to walk past her, because that would likely embarrass her to have someone see her crying like that, he’d set up to fish where he’d been when he first heard her. The sound of her weeping had made him sad: it would make anyone feel sad for her. Except those bored and stupid girls who decided that they’d have a little fun at her expense.
One thing Grant Wyler had no tolerance for was mean.
Not that he’d ever borne the brunt of it. He was the biggest kid in the class and the most popular, partly because he didn’t have an ounce of mean in him. He’d always taken up for the underdog, and anyone in grade school who had a lick of sense knew that on any given day, anyone could be the dog on the bottom. So it made good sense to be nice to Grant—he was everyone’s ace in the hole.
He’d seen Brooke Madison cut down other kids for no reason other than she could, and he didn’t think it was fair that the new girl couldn’t even sit and have a good cry without being bullied.
Grant had known why Dallas was crying—he knew that her father had died not long ago and that she’d been sent to St. Dennis because he’d heard the grown-ups talking. He’d heard his parents talking about how the sudden death of Ned—Dallas’s father—had nearly broken Berry Eberle’s heart: He had been the favorite of her late sister’s children. For a while, back when Ned was a boy, he’d spent so much time in St. Dennis with Berry, there was speculation that he was not her sister Sylvie’s son, but Berry’s. Grant’s parents had pooh-poohed the story whenever they heard it repeated, but there was still the slightest wisp of doubt in some circles.
Not that any of that mattered to Grant, though he suspected it might matter to Dallas if she ever heard the gossip. What did matter was that after he’d sat down next to her, she’d looked up into his face, and the minute he’d looked into those strange-colored eyes, he’d felt a little zip inside, and he knew that she was going to be something really special in his life. He didn’t know how he knew, but since his sister, Natalie, died, he’d had a number of these moments where things just happened and he knew to pay attention to them.
On instinct, he’d offered her his friendship, and she’d accepted. When it came time for her to leave, he’d walked her back to Miss B’s big house on River Road, then walked himself the rest of the way to his home on the opposite side of town. He went into the backyard, where his mother was working in her garden. Since Natalie died, she spent most of her time out there alone.
When his mother asked him what he’d caught, he’d told her honestly that he’d been dropping his line in a place where he figured he wasn’t going to catch much of anything. It was hard to explain to anyone why he wanted to be around the river, but his mother seemed to understand without him telling her that that was where he felt closest to Natalie, because it was quiet there and he could be alone with his thoughts. He figured that was pretty much why she spent so much time tending her garden. Then he told her about the girls teasing Dallas and how he’d thrown all but a few of his bait worms at them.
“You threw a bucket of worms at Brooke Madison?” His confession had stopped his mother in her tracks on her way into the house from the garden.
“She was being really mean to this other girl, calling her names and getting the other girls to tease, too,” Grant said defensively. He wanted to add, Like the way some kids used to tease Natalie when we took her to the library or the park after she lost her hair, but he couldn’t get those words out.
“I’ve raised you better than that.” Shirley Wyler had poured herself a glass of water and took a few long sips.
“Mom, if you’d have heard them, you’d have thrown the worms, too.”
“Well, I can’t yell at you for coming to the aid of someone who needed your help.” She smoothed down his hair where it had been sticking up. “Any idea who the girl was? Is she new in town?”
“Her name is Dallas.”
“Berry’s grandniece?”
He nodded.
His mother took another sip of water, then poured the rest into the sink.
“That girl’s had a real hard time these past few weeks. You know what it’s like when you lose someone in your family.” Her voice dropped and her eyes misted. “And to be sent away from home before she’s really had a chance to deal with it … well, who knows what her mother was thinking? I’d give anything for one more day—hell, one more hour—with Nat, but I guess we’re all cut differently. Anyway, it’s good that Berry was there to take in the girl and her brother.”
“She looked really sad, Mom.”
“I’m sure she is sad. I’m proud of you for sticking up for her, but tossing the worms … We should probably talk about that part. But the rest of it … you did the right thing.”
Grant had wanted to tell her something else, about how looking into Dallas’s eyes had made his heart beat a little faster, but he held his tongue. Maybe she’d make too much of it. One of the reasons why you didn’t tell your mom everything was that you didn’t know who she was going to repeat it to. But on her way back outside to her garden, she’d stopped in the doorway and turned to look over her shoulder.
“You know, you’ve probably made a friend for life, Grant,” his mother told him.
He nodded. He knew. He wasn’t sure how, but he knew.
May 2010
Diary ~
I saw Steffie Wyler the other day and the bags under her eyes were deep enough to carry mail. She says she’s already hired three more high school kids to work at Scoop because, well, doesn’t everyone want ice cream on a hot summer day? I’m afraid I committed a bit of a faux pas, however. You see, I saw her dancing with young Wade MacGregor at Beck’s wedding and it looked to my seasoned eye as if they were … well, let’s just say “interested in each other” is the most polite way I can think of to describe it. But when I asked if she knew if he’d be back in St. Dennis anytime soon, she darn near bit my head off with a short and snappy “How would I know?” I suppose if I really wanted to know I could ask Berry what she hears from her nephew.
Speaking of Berry—I saw one of those tabloid papers in the market that said her grandniece, Dallas, had just wrapped up another movie. Well, I’m delighted to see she’s so successful—I’ve always been fond of the girl. But there’s a bit of scandal brewing, if those rags are to be believed: There were photos of her husband with yet another “mystery” woman! Of course, there have been rumors about him for years—Berry says that she’d put nothing past him because he is totally without scruples. He and Berry never did get along—she’s seen through him from the very start. I certainly don’t know what Dallas ever saw in the fellow—oh, he’s handsome enough, if you like that Hollywood type
, but Berry says he’s all style and no substance. She swears that the day Dallas filed for divorce from that man was the first time Berry had set foot in a church in almost thirty years. Hopefully, she’ll be able to say a final good-riddance-to-bad-rubbish before too much longer.
You know, you never see pictures of Dallas with other men, or read tawdry stories about her. She’s always had much too much class for such shenanigans.
Well, they do say opposites attract … though only the good Lord knows why.
~ Grace ~
P.S. As a newspaper owner myself, I cannot conceive of carrying such rubbish in my paper. Why, the day I’m tempted to print trash in the St. Dennis Gazette is the day I hang up my notepad, and you can take that to the bank!
Chapter 1
At the precise moment Dallas MacGregor was picking up her son, Cody, from his pricey summer day camp out near Topanga State Park, the home video starring her soon-to-be ex-husband and two of the female production assistants from his latest film had already been uploaded to the Internet. By the time she arrived at her Malibu home—she’d stopped once on the way from the set of her latest movie promo shoot to pick up dinner—the one-thousandth viewing had already been downloaded.
The phone was on overdrive, ringing like mad, when she walked into her kitchen.
“Miss MacGregor, you have many messages. Two from your aunt Beryl.” Elena, her housekeeper, cast a wary glance at Cody and handed her employer a stack of pink slips as the phone continued to ring. “About Mr. Emilio …”
“Would you mind answering that?” Dallas slid the heavy paper bag onto the counter. “And why are you still here? I thought you wanted to leave today by four?”
“Yes, miss, I …” Elena lifted the receiver. “Miss MacGregor’s … oh, hello, Miss Townsend. Yes, she’s home now, she just arrived. Yes, I gave her the message but … of course, Miss Townsend …”
Elena held the phone out to Dallas.
“It’s your great-aunt,” she whispered.
“I figured that out.” Dallas smiled and took the cordless receiver from Elena. “Hello, Berry. I was just thinking about—”
“Dallas.” Her aunt cut her off sharply. “What the hell is going on out there?”
“Not much.” Dallas paused. “What’s supposed to be going on?”
“That numbskull you were married to.” Berry’s breath came in ragged puffs.
She was obviously in a lather over something. Not unusual, Dallas thought. At eighty-one, it didn’t take much to rile Berry these days.
“What’s he done now?” Dallas began emptying the bag, lining up the contents on the counter.
“Not what as much as who.” Berry was becoming increasingly agitated.
“Mommy.” Cody tugged at her sleeve. “Why are all those cars out there?”
“Berry, hold on for just a moment, please.” Dallas glanced out the side window where cars were lined up on the other side of the fence that completely encircled the gated property, cars that had not been there five minutes ago when they drove through the gates. It wasn’t unusual for paparazzi to follow her home, but she hadn’t noticed any cars tailing her today. She raised the blinds just a little, and saw more cars were arriving even as she watched.
“I don’t know, Cody. Maybe the studio put out something about Mommy’s new movie. Maybe we should turn on the television and see.”
“No!” Elena and Berry both shouted at the same time.
“What?” Dallas frowned and turned to her housekeeper, who stood behind Cody. She pointed to the child, then raised her index finger to her lips, their silent code for “not in front of Cody.”
Keeping a curious eye on Elena, Dallas asked, “Berry, why don’t you tell me …?”
“Are you saying you don’t know? Seriously? You haven’t heard?”
“Heard what?”
“That idiot ex of yours—”
“Not ex yet, but soon, please God …” Dallas muttered. “And it’s long been established that he’s an idiot, so anything he’s done should be viewed with that in mind.”
“—managed to get himself filmed doing … all sorts of things that you will not want Cody to see …” Berry was almost gasping. “And with more than one person. It was disgusting. Perverted.”
“You mean …” Dallas’s knees went weak and she sat in the chair that Elena wisely pulled out for her.
“Yes. A sex tape. Not one, but two young women. I was shocked. Appalled!”
“Wait! You actually saw it?”
“Three times!” Dallas could almost see Berry fanning herself. “It was vile, just vile! You know, Dallas, that I never liked that man. I told you when you first brought him home that I—”
“Berry, where did you see this?”
“On my computer. There was a link to a site—”
“Hold on for a moment, Berry.” Dallas put her hand over the mouthpiece and turned to Elena. “Would you mind cutting up an apple for Cody? Cody, go wash your hands so you can have your snack.”
After her son left the room, Dallas took the phone outside and sat at one of the tables on her shaded patio.
“Dear God, Berry, let me get this straight. Emilio made a sex tape and it was put on the Internet? Is that what you’re telling me?”
“Yes, and not just any sex tape. This one had—”
“Wait a minute; they allowed you to download the whole thing?”
“No, no, not all of it, just a little peek. You had to pay to see the whole thing.”
“And you did? You paid to watch …” Dallas didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. The thought of her elderly aunt watching Emilio and his latest conquests burning up the sheets—and paying for the privilege—was horrifying and crazy funny at the same time. “Wait—did you say three times?”
“Yes, and it was—”
“Berry, why did you watch it three times?”
“Well,” Berry sniffed. “I had to make sure it was really him.”
The rest of the evening went downhill from there.
Dallas made every attempt to remain calm lest Cody pick up on the fact that she was almost blind with anger at the man she’d been married to for seven years.
Seven years, she repeated to herself. Seven years out of my life, wasted on that reprobate. The only good thing to come out of those years was Cody—and Dallas had to admit that she would have weathered a lifetime of Emilio’s amorous flings and general foolishness if she’d had to in order to have her son. When she filed for divorce eight months ago, following the latest in his long line of infidelities, Emilio hadn’t even bothered to beg her to reconsider: they’d done that dance so often over the years that even he was tired of it.
She managed to have a normal evening with Cody and ignored the cars that parked beyond the protective fence. They had a nice dinner and watched a video together, then Cody had his bath and Dallas read a bedtime story before she tucked him in and turned off the light.
It wasn’t until she went back downstairs, alone, that she permitted herself to fall apart.
There was no love lost between her and Emilio. She’d long since accepted the fact that he’d married her strictly to further his own career as a director. For a time, she’d remained stubbornly blind, insisting that her husband be signed to direct her movies, and for a time, she’d been equally blind to his affairs. Lately it occurred to her that she well might be the last person in the entire state of California to catch on to the extent of Emilio’s indiscretions.
For the past five years, she and Emilio had battled over the same ground, over and over until Dallas no longer cared who he slept with, as long as it wasn’t her. Looking back now, she realized she should have left him the first time he’d cheated on her, when the tabloids had leaked those photos of Emilio frolicking with a pretty up-and-coming Latina actress on a sunny, sandy beach in Guatemala when he’d told Dallas he was going to scout some locations for a film he was thinking about making, but it had been so much easier to stay than to leave. There was Cod
y to consider: Emilio had never wanted the child, but Dallas had hoped—for Cody’s sake—that he’d come around. Besides, Dallas’s schedule had been so hectic for the past three years that she’d barely had time to read the tabloids. She’d had the blessing—or the curse—of having had wonderful roles offered to her, roles that she’d really wanted, so she’d signed on for all of them, and had gone from one set right onto the next, leaving her time for nothing and no one other than her son. It had only been recently that Dallas admitted to herself that perhaps she’d been deliberately overworking herself to avoid having to deal with her home situation.
Well, avoid no more, she told herself as she dialed her attorney’s number. This time, Emilio had gone too far. When the call went directly to voice mail, Dallas left the message that she wanted her lawyer to do whatever had to be done to speed up the divorce.
“And oh,” she’d added, “we need to talk about that custody arrangement we’d worked out …”
While she waited for the return call, Dallas logged on to the computer in her home office. She searched the Web for what she was looking for. The link to the video appeared almost instantaneously, along with a running tally of how many times the video had been watched—all thirteen thousand, four hundred, and thirty-one viewings. Her stomach churning, she clicked on the link and was asked first to confirm that she was over eighteen, then for her credit card number.
“Great,” she murmured. “For the low, low price of nineteen ninety-five, I can watch my husband … that is, my soon-to-be ex-husband, perform daring feats with his production assistants.”
The video began abruptly—“What, no music?”—and while the lighting could have been better, there was no question who was the filling in the middle of that fleshy sandwich. As difficult as it was to watch, she forced herself to sit through it, commenting to herself from time to time (“Emilio, Emilio, didn’t anyone ever tell you to always keep your best side to the camera? And, babe, that is decidedly not your best side.”).
When the phone rang before it was over, Dallas turned off her computer and answered the call.
The Chesapeake Diaries Series 7-Book Bundle: Coming HOme, Home Again, Almost Home, Hometown Girl, Home for the Summer, The Long Way Home, At the River's Edge Page 31