The Devil Has Dimples

by Pepper Phillips

  “They’re inside.” Alice whispered.

  I could hear loud voices from inside Grant’s office.

  “Why are they arguing?”

  Alice looked at me with compassion in her eyes. “I don’t know. I don’t want to know. Nothing good can come from your searching.” Alice brushed past me and headed down the stairs. “Nothing good at all.” She muttered to herself.

  Now what was that all about? Last time we had talked at all, she was the one all supportive of this search. I watched her thunder down the stairs that creaked and groaned with each step. I groaned myself, the argument seemed to be intensifying inside.

  Suddenly, everything became silent. Except the thudding of my heart.

  Slowly, I walked to Grant’s office door and tapped.

  “Come in.” Grant shouted.

  I hesitated, then turned the knob.

  Grant was standing at the window, looking out at the courthouse square. Silas sat in one of the large leather chairs, his legs crossed, his elbow stabbing the arm of the chair, his head resting on a fisted hand. He turned when I came in and glared at me.

  “I’m not your daddy!” He exclaimed.

  “Oh. I’m so glad.”

  Silas seemed startled. Then his body sank in the chair. I’d taken all the wind out of his sails.

  I nervously sat next to him. I reached over and touched his arm with my trembling fingers.

  “I really like your wife, and I’m glad you didn’t cheat on her.”

  Silas looked mutinous. He threw me an angry look then brushed away my fingers with his hand. “You don’t know nothing. And I’m not telling nothing.”

  He jumped up and stalked angrily out of the room, slamming the door after him.

  Grant turned from his view and glanced over at me.

  “Thank God he left. I thought I might throw him out the window before you came.”

  “I thought you were going to wait for me.”

  “Silas verbally attacked me when he walked in the door.”

  “What did he say?” I asked.

  “Nothing. He came in the office and flatly stated that he wasn’t your father.”

  “Why then all the yelling?”

  Grant pulled a wry grin. “Usually if you get someone mad enough, they’ll let something slip that they normally wouldn’t say.”

  “Oh. So you got him mad.”

  “That was easy to do. He was angry when he came in.” Grant looked thoughtful. “I wonder why?”

  “Why what?”

  “Why was he so angry when he came in. Our phone conversation ended on a good note. So what happened to change his attitude?”

  “Is it too late to ask him?”

  Grant thought for a moment. “Let me wait until he cools down. I want him rational.” Dimples flashed. “If that can ever happen with Silas.”

  “If he’s not my father, I wonder who is then.”

  “So do I.” Grant said.

  I sat there wondering. What did Alice mean? Nothing good will come of it. Are there some secrets that should stay buried? Such as knowing who my father was? Why would it make a difference to anyone but myself? But then I thought of Bitsy. Bitsy would be devastated to find out that her husband fathered a child out of wedlock. Or would she? What did I know of these people? I had only been in town a few days. Obviously there were secrets out there, secrets concerning me, secrets that apparently didn’t want to be discovered.

  * * *

  “What we need is a time line.” Grant said. He was leaning back against the sofa, his hands behind his head, relaxed, his stomach full for the moment.

  “What do you mean, a time line?” I asked.

  “You know. Your birth date, then going back nine months to see what Maudie was doing, what was going on in the community, who was here, all that stuff.” Grant got up and walked over to my side, taking down another teacup from the cabinet.

  I motioned for him to give me his cup, then automatically poured both of our cups with boiling water as he pulled tea bags from a box.

  I thought for a moment. “That makes a lot of sense.”

  I got up and went into the bedroom. I came back a moment later with a pad and pencil. Noticing that Grant was reseated on the sofa, I sat next to him.

  “December 9, 1984” I wrote it down, then looked at him expectantly.

  “Count back nine months, and you have March, maybe back into late February of that year.” Grant answered, plunking his tea bag up and down in the cup.

  “Yes, I learned that you count plus seven days minus three months from your last period. That could easily take it back into late February. Though, most first babies are generally a few days late,” I said.

  Grant seemed horrified. “That’s more than I wanted to know.”

  I put down my paper and pencil. “I guess I should to go to the newspaper office.” I walked to the kitchen, took my tea bag out and squeezed it, then added sugar. Looking at Grant, I brought the sugar bowl and spoon to where he was sitting.

  “Thanks. T-Jack will be delighted to show you around.” Settling next to him, I remarked dryly. “I’m sure he will. If I had a Valium, I’d take it before I go.”

  Grant laughed. “Well, if there’s anything to be found at The Chronicle, T-Jack can find it for you.” He set his cup down.

  “Well, I wish he would just point me in the right direction and leave me to my own devices.” I set my cup down. I looked into his deep brown eyes, noting how warm and inviting they looked.

  “Try the library first. It should be a lot quieter there.” Grant’s voice became lower as he gazed into my eyes. “And then if you need to contact T-Jack, you’ll pretty much know what you need to ask.”

  “Sounds like a plan.” I whispered back.

  Grant cupped my head with his hand and pulled me gently forward into his kiss.

  It was heaven. His lips were soft, gentle, inviting. I wanted to devour him, so I touched his lips with my tongue and he parted them to accept me. Time seemed to stand still. My brain buzzed. I think that I could do this forever. Grant pulled back and gave me a smile.

  “Someone’s downstairs.”

  “Huh?” My brain was still buzzing, as were my lips. Then I realized that the downstairs doorbell was buzzing and not about to stop.

  “Downstairs.” Grant dimpled at me again, making me want to climb on his lap and show him how good I could kiss, then his cell phone began to ring. He got up, leaving me breathless, stunned, and lusting for him.

  “Rats.” I heaved myself up off the sofa and trotted over to the staircase. Whoever was ringing the doorbell was determined to get my attention.

  I trotted down the stairs and as I looked through the window, I saw Bitsy standing outside. Oh, no. She looked angry.

  I came to the bottom of the stairs and remembered to turn the light on and as soon as I did she released the doorbell. The sudden silence was only broken by the thumping of my heart.

  I found the key and opened the door, only fumbling a little, I was nervous. Opening it, I let her in.

  “Hi, Bitsy. It’s great to see you.” What a liar I am. I hope she couldn’t see that I was lying.

  “We need to talk.” She was grim. Her eyes looked tired, her generous mouth in a frown. For once, she looked her age.

  “Sure. Want to come upstairs. I just fixed some tea.”

  “Is Grant up there?” Her gaze moved up the staircase, searching.

  “Yes.”

  Bitsy shook her head.

  So she didn’t want to talk in front of Grant. I wondered why.

  “I’ll come back tomorrow.” She turned to leave, and I grabbed her arm.

  “Wait. You seem upset, and I always found that if you discuss it out right away, things start to get better right away.” Now that sounded trite even to me. But I didn’t want her to leave angry.

  Bitsy chewed on her bottom lip and sighed deeply. “It doesn’t matter.” She started to leave.

  I called to her before she closed the doo
r. “Bitsy. I know Silas isn’t my father.”

  She glanced back at me, stricken. Then she shook her head and gently closed the door behind her.

  What a mess. I locked the door, turned off the lights and went upstairs.

  Grant wasn’t there.

  I could see a light from under his bedroom door.

  What could he be doing in there? I’m sure he heard Bitsy, but then again, perhaps he didn’t. Wasn’t he curious as to who was at the door?

  I picked up my cup of tea. It was tepid, so I poured it down the sink, washed the cup and put it in the drainer. Some things were so easy to fix. Others weren’t.

  It was time to search Maudie’s office.

  * * *

  What a mess. Piles of papers were on the desk, there were even piles on the floor, plus a large stack of reference books haphazardly leaning against the wall in no apparent order. It would take a long time for me to sort through everything. I decided to tackle the desk drawers first. If I was going to hide something, the drawers would be my choice.

  Maudie had an old-fashioned desk lamp, with a green glass lampshade. The light couldn’t reach into the drawer I pulled out. So, I decided to take the whole drawer upstairs and sort through it up there. When I slid it out of its hole, I almost dropped it. The sucker was made out of solid wood and stuffed full. Carefully, I propped it on my hip and turning off the lights as I went back upstairs.

  Grant was still in his room, and I could hear him talking to someone on the phone. Tina?

  I decided to use the dining room table. I plunked the heavy drawer down and started some more water to boil. As I was redoing my cup and tea bag, I heard Grant’s door open. Turning around I noticed that he was standing there with a rueful grin on his face, towel-drying his hair.

  “Took your shower already.”

  “Yeah. A cold one.”

  I couldn’t help it, but smiled. He took a cold shower because of our kiss. A warm flash went from my throat through my stomach and landed south of there. I was going to need a cold shower myself. Then I thought of Tina, and it pretty much cooled me right off my lust.

  He looked at the table and asked. “What’s that?”

  “A drawer from Maudie’s desk.”

  He walked over and poked around the contents with his finger. “Good luck. It looks like a mess.”

  “If you think that looks bad, you should see the rest of the desk.”

  “I have. Once she was out of town and I had to find her checkbook, and it took me an hour. Needless to say, I didn’t go fishing around in her stuff again.”

  “Well, it’ll give me some direction. At least, I hope it does.” The teapot started to sing, so I took it off the burner and started to pour a cup. “Want some tea?”

  “No. I think a beer would calm me down.” He opened the refrigerator and pulled out a long-neck, twisted off the cap and sat at the table.

  “Calm you down?”

  He flashed his dimples. “Yep. For some reason my heart is racing.”

  I could feel myself blushing. I hate when that happens. It starts up my neck and then flushes out into my cheeks.

  Grant chuckled. “Seems like something on you is racing too.”

  “Hush.” I finished making my cup of tea and sat across from him. Taking out a handful of stuff from the drawer, I placed it in front of me. What a bunch of junk. Three envelopes, with nothing inside. I got up and took the trash can from under the sink and set it beside me at the table. Chunk. Chunk. Chunk.

  I think I might fill up file thirteen before the night is over.

  Some rubber bands. Chunk.

  A broken pencil. Chunk.

  A black book. Chunk. My hand retrieved it before it had a chance to get cozy in the trash. I opened the cover and discovered it was an address book. A very old address book.

  Grant noticed my interest between his sips of beer. “What’s that?”

  “Looks like an address book.”

  “Let me see.” He reached out his hand and I gave him the book. He would know the names of the people inside much better than I would.

  He thumbed through it page by page. I watched as his long fingers turned each page. His nails were cut closely, a narrow white edge tipping each nail. His hands were capable. Capable of driving me to distraction.

  “Anything interesting?” I inquired, while my hand inserted itself into the drawer again and lifted out another conglomeration of items.

  He pursued one page for a moment longer. “I don’t know.”

  “Well, what are you staring at that one page for?” I stabbed myself with an unbent paper clip and stuck my finger in my mouth.

  “It doesn’t make sense.”

  I took my finger out of my mouth so I could ask, “Such as.”

  “Well, Maudie wrote everyone’s name in, except for the last name, but I know all those. Except for this one entry. She wrote an initial.”

  “What’s the initial?” My attention was caught by a flash of light in the drawer, so I reached in and took out a ring box, at least that’s what it looked like.

  “C,” Grant said.

  “C?” I struggled to find the minute clash to open the box. It had a thin ridge that I could barely slip my fingernail into, finally it snapped open.

  I gasped and Grant looked up at me.

  “What’s wrong?”

  I held out the ring box to him.

  “Damn.” He peered into it.

  It was a diamond engagement ring. A huge diamond engagement ring. Emerald cut, its facets caught the light and threw miniature spots of rainbow colors on his shirt.

  He reached into the case and withdrew the ring. Holding it between his fingers he slowly held it out to me.

  Of course I had to try it on. My ring finger was too big so I tried my little finger, and it slid right on. It was beautiful.

  As I put my hand out to see how the total effect looked, Grant asked. “I wonder who it belongs to.”

  That question startled me. “Wouldn’t it belong to Maudie?”

  “Maybe. Maybe not. Maudie did a lot of appraising. Check out the setting, it looks old.”

  I did as he asked. The setting of white gold did look old. It looked as if it had been well worn. Tiny scratches marred the wide band.

  “Wait, there might be something engraved inside.” I tried to pull it off, but it wouldn’t slip off easily. Getting up, I walked to the sink and put some soap on my hands, lathered up, and tried to remove it again. Finally it slid off.

  Washing it under the tap water, I then dried it off on a towel. Turning it in my fingers to see the inside, I could see writing inside. But couldn’t decipher it.

  “What does it say?”

  I handed the ring to him. “I can’t tell. It seems like a foreign language.”

  Grant positioned the ring to see the inside and studied it for a moment. “Je vous aimerai pour toujours.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “You got me. Let me write it down and ask around.” He grabbed a pencil out of the drawer and found a partially blank envelope and began to write down the engraving.

  I reached over and picked up the ring box and began to study it more closely. There were initials engraved on the front that I hadn’t seen before. They were stylized and almost looked like a decorative scroll, but if you looked close enough you could see a ‘E’ intertwined with a ‘J’ and a larger “G” encircling both of the other letters.

  “Know anyone with the initials, E G or J G?” I asked.

  Grant looked up at me, then glanced at the compact. “No. Not right off-hand. Look in the black book and see if you can find anything.”

  I thumbed slowly through the pages, stopping whenever one of those initials prefaced a name, without last names in the book it made it difficult.

  “You have to do it since I don’t know everyone’s last name, and Maudie didn’t put any in here.”

  Grant sighed. He pushed away the paper and pencil in front of him and took the book
away from me.

  A few long minutes passed. Then he closed the book and set it on the table. He raked his hand through his hair.

  “I should have known that it wouldn’t have been easy.”

  “No. It seems like nothing is ever easy.”

  I grabbed my cup of tea and took a swallow. It was lukewarm. I threw the contents down the sink and washed the cup again. It looked like I wasn’t going to have any tea tonight.

  Grabbing up the loose stuff still on the table, I threw it back into the box. The compact and the ring sat side by side.

  “What should we do with them?” I asked.

  “Put them in a safe place for now, someone might come in to claim the ring. I wouldn’t ask any questions about it until we can have the engraving translated.”

  “Who do you have in mind for that?”

  Grant looked at me, then gave me a big smile that I knew I wouldn’t like the answer he was going to give.

  “T-Jack.”

  I groaned. It seems like I was destined to be in T-Jack’s near vicinity.

  “But you can ask the librarian when you check on the date issue.”

  “You can be sure I will check out the librarian before I have to tackle T-Jack. The man wears me out.”

  Grant laughed at me. I wanted to slap him. But this was my mission, and I was going to have to carry it out.

  * * *

  September 14, 1992

  He came by today. After his mother’s funeral.

  She was always nice to me, so I went and sat in the back. Thinking of ‘what could have been’ and getting sadder as each moment passed.

  I didn’t expect him to come. He knows that being alone with him hurts me.

  He reached in his pocket and brought out a beautiful engraved box and handed it to me.

  I stared at it.

  He placed it on the counter. “It’s yours. If you ever decide that we can marry, I want you to wear my mother’s ring. If not, give it to our daughter. It’s rightfully hers. It has my mother and father’s initials on the box.

  I remained silent. Staring at the box, unable to pick it up and open it.

  Then he walked out.