by Julie
"See here?" Aleta rose from her desk and pointed to the third paragraph. "You're mentioned by name. 'Bank teller Annie Grant helped to thwart the would-be felon by pushing the silent alarm that brought Officer Gregory Flynn to save the day.'" Aleta wore a pleased little smile. "Very nice, don't you think?"
Annie stared at Greg's name, right there in black and white, and a wave of sadness washed over her.
But no. Sadness wasn't going to bring her down.
Things were shaping up. They definitely were. And whenever Annie started to get feeling low over Greg, well, now she had a different future to start looking forward to.
It wouldn't be the life she'd always imagined. But maybe it was time for her to start dreaming a whole new kind of dream.
Dreams.
Greg was having too damn many of those.
Most of them featured Annie doing things with him - and to him - that weren't the least bit sisterly. He was waking up running sweat and rock hard three or four times a night.
And when he wasn't dreaming of Annie, he was dreaming of the accident seven years ago, of him and Hank, flying down that farm road, laughing, engines roaring, side by side.
Of that split second that lasted for an eternity, when Hank shot him the high sign and turned back to the road, where a fuzzy little possum had appeared out of nowhere...
Greg would wake sweating from those dreams, too.
Insane. He hadn't dreamed of the accident in years. Why now, all of a sudden? He knew why, of course. Because of Annie. Because of what had happened between them, because of the way everything had gotten so completely messed up.
The dreams - of Annie and of the accident - had to stop. Too bad Greg couldn't figure out a way to make that happen.
By Friday, he was a wreck. He needed a shot of caffeine every couple of hours just to stay alert on the job.
About eleven that morning, he pulled into Karol's Koffee Kup to get himself a much-needed jumbo coffee - lots of sugar, hold the cream. Karol's had a narrow glassed-in entryway where folks were always piling up on each other. Greg pushed through the door, eager to get the caffeine and get back out to his Blazer.
Just inside the entryway, he bumped into Ol’ Bill Sinclair. Bill, white-haired and wiry with a perpetual gleam in his eye, helped run the Gazette.
"So how's the town hero doing today?" Bill asked.
Greg grunted. He'd seen the article the day before. "If you're referring to what happened at the bank Monday, don't."
"You gotta admit, it's one hell of a story. You took it right in the chest, and saved the day."
"I knew it was a squirt gun, Bill," Greg said wearily.
Bill chuckled and clapped Greg on the shoulder. "Well, from what I hear, it was a hell of a moment. Wish I'd been there."
"And we're blocking traffic," Greg suggested, wanting nothing so much as to move along.
"Got a point there. Catch you later." Bill went on by.
Greg made the mistake of turning to watch the older man go - and plowed right into someone else.
"Excuse me, I - " He reached out to steady the very pregnant woman he'd almost knocked over - and saw who it was. "My God. Heather..."
His ex-fiancee put her hand on her huge stomach and gave him a big smile. "Greg. How've you been?"
An image of Annie's sweet face flashed through his mind. I've been awful, he thought. "Great," he said. "Terrific. You're back in town?"
Heather shook her full head of black curls. "Just a visit. Seeing my mom."
He spotted the ring on her finger. "I heard you got married. And now, here you are, a baby on the way. Good for you."
Heather nodded, her face kind of glowing. "Yeah. Lots of changes - good ones."
"If you don't mind," said an impatient voice behind him.
"Uh. Sorry." Greg turned toward the man who'd spoken, tipped his hat and stepped to the side.
Right then, behind him, Heather let out a cry. He whirled back to her. "Heather?"
She was clutching her big belly - and she wasn't smiling anymore.
Greg grabbed her arm again. "Here. Sit down."
Heather only held on tighter to her bulging stomach and cried out again.
"Heather, oh my God!" Heather's mother, Leah Delmasio, emerged from the main part of the restaurant and rushed to her daughter's side.
Heather panted. "I think...oh!" She blinked and looked down over her huge stomach, past the hem of her skirt. Water trickled along the insides of her legs.
With sirens blazing, Greg drove Heather and her mother to San Juan Hospital, a sprawling medical facility on the outskirts of San Antonio. Once they'd checked Heather in, Leah followed after her daughter to see that the nurses made her comfortable. Greg waited a few minutes and then decided there was no reason to hang around.
He was just turning to go when Leah reappeared.
"Thank you, Greg," Leah said solemnly, looking up at him through black eyes very much like Heather's.
"Is she all right?"
Leah actually smiled then. "At the moment, she's not feelin' so hot. But once she's had that baby, she'll be fine."
"Her husband...?"
"I'm going to call him right now."
"Good. Well, then, give her my best. And my congratulations. On her marriage - and on the baby, too."
"I'll do that - and Greg?"
"Yeah?"
"She is doing fine, you know? Happy. In love.”
“I'm glad for her."
"So when you gonna marry that sweet little Annie Grant?"
Greg blinked and stepped back. "I, uh..."
Leah Delmasio grinned wide. "Don't look so shocked. Heather told me all about it, back when you two split up."
"Told you...?"
"You know. That you were already taken. That she wanted her own man."
What Greg wanted was out of there. Fast. "Uh, well. Mrs. Delmasio, I really have to - "
Leah leaned closer and pitched her voice to a volume fit for sharing secrets. "I got a few words of advice for you, Greg Flynn - advice from a woman who's been married forty years, every one of them worth it, with six sons, two daughters, fourteen grandchildren, number fifteen on the way.”
“I, uh - "
"Get married. Be happy." Greg only stared at her.
Leah Delmasio clucked her tongue. "Well. Better make that call. My daughter wants her husband.”
“Uh. Yeah. Good idea."
Leah pulled a phone from her purse as Greg shook himself, turned on his heel and headed for the exit - fast.
Chapter 5
“Hot dog?" Greg asked, flipping back the smoker lid and gesturing at the open grills flanking it. "Ribs?"
Naomi considered. "Give me some of that chicken, I think - a drumstick."
Greg forked the chosen piece off the smoker grill and carefully set it on Naomi's plastic plate. "There you go."
"Looks perfect."
Crockett Park was packed with neighbors, friends and family. Annie, the one-woman decorating committee, had done up the borrowed folding tables in red, white and blue and strung little lights from the oaks and cottonwoods, so that later, when it got dark, the party wouldn't have to end. Bernie Bell, who owned the video and music shop where Dirk Jenkins used to work, had provided the sound system. Country music filled the late-afternoon air.
Greg shut the smoker lid and gave Naomi a wink. "My dad's own special sauce."
"Joe's sauce is always the best." Naomi granted him a sly little smile. "Heard you saved the day again yesterday."
He grunted, thinking of Heather groaning in the back of the Blazer behind the safety screen, of Leah's calm voice offering reassurances. "Not a big deal."
"A little girl, I heard - and they named her after Leah."
"Good choice."
"Lucky Leah." Naomi sighed. "So many beautiful grandchildren..."
"Yeah," Greg agreed, his thoughts going straight where they shouldn't: to Leah's unsolicited advice the da
y before.
So when you gonna marry that sweet little Annie Grant...?
"Annie did a beautiful job on the decorations," Naomi said, and Greg tried not to look startled and guilty at the mention of her name - especially given what he'd just been thinking. "She's a treasure, that daughter of mine." Naomi was staring off in the direction of the park's central natural-rock fountain, where Annie stood with a girlfriend, observing the antics of two of Greg's nephews.
Dougie, Greg's sister's boy, was chasing Leon, Greg's older brother's son, around the fountain, shooting him with one of those huge, Day-Glo-colored water guns. Leon had the now-famous squirt gun, the one that looked just like Dirk's. He was darting low and turning to shoot, outgunned by his cousin's massive plastic weapon and not seeming to care in the least.
Annie laughed, the sound bright as bells, as Leon's shot found its mark at last and Dougie let out a fake cry of agony and then shot him right back. Greg stared - and not at his nephews. Annie's hair gleamed in the sunshine that speckled down through the sheltering oaks. He still couldn't quite believe she'd gone and cut it. And okay, he supposed the new style looked fine on her.
It was only...
Damn it, she'd always worn it long, trailing down her slim back, straight and shining.
"The new cut looks good, I think," said Naomi, and Greg got the creepy feeling that Annie's mother might be reading his mind or something.
He shot her a look and she smiled sweetly back at him. "Yeah," he said. "It looks real nice."
"Changes." Naomi sighed again. "Guess you can't stop them from happening, huh?"
What could he say? "Guess not."
"And now she's moving away. Of course. I understand. Young people want adventure, to try new things." Naomi leaned closer. "But I'm hoping she'll settle on San Antonio. There, she'd only be a skip and a jump to get back home for visits."
Annie moving? Leaving Red Rock?
He must have looked as stunned as he felt, because Naomi laid her little hand on his arm and asked softly, "You didn't know?"
"Nope."
Naomi chuckled. "And here I thought she told you everything."
She did - until recently.
Naomi added, "Well, if she asks for your opinion on the move, do me a favor and recommend San Antonio."
He hardly heard what Annie's mom was saying. He just couldn't believe it. Annie wouldn't leave home.
"Greg? Did you hear me?"
"Uh. Yeah. Sure. Will do."
Right then, two of his nieces came racing up, clamoring for hot dogs.
"Thanks," Naomi said. She headed for the table a few yards away, where Ted was already tackling a plateful of barbecue.
Greg stared blindly after her, feeling sucker punched. Annie leaving town? No way. Impossible...
"Uncle Greg, come on. Hot dogs, please!" His nieces held up their plates.
Greg served them - and all the friends and neighbors who quickly lined up behind them.
An hour after Naomi dropped the bomb on him about Annie, Greg's brother Joey finally showed up to relieve him at the grills. Greg grabbed a beer and started looking for Annie. He found her at the lemonade stand a couple of neighbor kids had set up under a cottonwood in the northwest corner of the park, near the street.
"This is so delicious, Mary Lee," Annie said. She took a sip from a paper cup. "Mmm. Really hits the spot."
Mary Lee Jurgenson, a budding ten-year-old entrepreneur, suggested, "Have another one, then. Five cents off for a refill."
"You know, I believe I will." Annie handed over her cup.
The other girl, Pansy Farquest, refilled the cup while Mary Lee took Annie's change and dropped it into a shoe box painted pink and decorated with glued-on buttons and seashells.
About then, Mary Lee spotted Greg. "Officer Greg. Get your lemonade. Only twenty-five cents a cup."
Annie turned and saw him and he got that funny feeling in his stomach - the one he was always getting when she looked at him lately.
Mary Lee kept pitching. "Best lemonade in the whole wide world."
Greg realized he was kind of gaping at Annie and made himself turn to Mary Lee. "Sorry, Mary Lee." He held up his longneck. "I've already got a beer."
Mary Lee wrinkled her button nose. "What do you want with an icky old beer when you can - have the best lemonade in the world? Fresh-squeezed, too - ouch!" Pansy had elbowed Mary Lee in the side. The two girls whispered together, then Mary Lee confessed, "Okay, it's not fresh-squeezed. It's from a can. But it tastes like fresh. Just ask Annie."
'Truth in advertising," said Pansy solemnly. Mary Lee gave the other girl a sour look.
Annie spoke up then. "Best lemonade I ever tasted. Bar none." She sent him a glance from under her lashes, kind of teasing and watchful at once.
He wanted to grab her and...
No. Better not go there.
Three pair of feminine eyes were watching him.
"You could drink the lemonade after you finish your beer," Mary Lee suggested.
Greg realized he was outflanked, not to mention out-maneuvered. "Yeah," he agreed grudgingly. "Guess I could."
"Better buy it now, though," Mary Lee warned. "It's going awful fast." He imagined it probably was, with Mary Lee strong-arming anyone who walked by. "We might run out by the time you came back over here."
So Greg handed Mary Lee a quarter and Pansy poured him a cup of lemonade.
Mary Lee advised, "If you want more, bring your cup back. Five cents off for a refill."
"I'll keep that in mind," he answered dryly. He turned to Annie - and saw she was walking away. "Hey. Wait up."
Annie paused and turned back. The look in her eyes warned him - of what, he wasn't quite sure. "Yeah?" she said when he caught up with her.
He didn't know where to begin. "You eat yet?"
She shrugged.
He prodded, "Yes or no?"
She answered reluctantly. "No."
"Well, how 'bout we go fill up a couple of plates?"
She looked at him for a long, distinctly uncomfortable moment. It wasn't that hot out but he started to sweat. Finally, she said. "And?"
"Hell," he said. "Eat."
She considered his suggestion as he stood there feeling like a fool, lemonade in one hand, beer in the other. After about a year, she shrugged again. "Sure. Why not?" She turned and headed for the double row of tables near the barbecue grills.
Since he didn't know what else to do, he followed, trying not to spill the lemonade - and also not to let himself stare at her backside. She really filled out the pair of snug white shorts she was wearing.
He realized he'd made a mistake to let her do the leading when she marched right over to the table where her parents and his parents were sitting together. He'd been picturing a private talk. He'd figured he'd get it out of her about the move she was planning, and explain to her that it would be a bad decision. How could he do all that with his mom and dad and Naomi and Ted sitting right there?
"Got room for us?" Annie smiled wide enough to take in the whole table. A murmur of welcome went up from the two sets of parents.
There was a space on either side of the table. Greg scowled. He wouldn't even be sitting beside her. Which was fine. What the hell did it matter if they sat side by side or not?
It didn't. Didn't matter in the least...
They set down their drinks and went over to the grills and the serving tables to load up their plates. When they returned, they slid into their seats and picked up their plastic forks and dug in.
The talk at the table was easy and general. Ted and Joe planned an upcoming weekend fishing trip. Naomi and Patty discussed the burning question of whether or not Naomi should get new curtains for the den. All four of them - Patty, Joe, Ted and Naomi - joked about the upcoming Spring Fling, where every year something inevitably went crazy or wrong. They wondered aloud what scandals and disasters were in store this year.
Annie and Greg
were mostly silent.
He noticed she wasn't eating a lot. Annie loved barbecue. As a rule, she could really put it away.
But not that day.
Greg wasn't eating much, either. He finished off his beer and got up to get a second one.
Annie said jokingly, "Hey. What about your lemonade?"
What the hell did she care? He didn't want any damn lemonade, never had wanted it, and she knew he hadn't. He realized he was furious with her. Just hopping mad. And then he realized how out of line that was. He looked in her eyes and that funny, scary feeling tightened his gut again.
What the hell had happened to him? Lately, he couldn't even take a little kidding.
But then, he knew what had happened.
That Friday night.
"I'd rather have a beer," he said, careful to keep his voice even. Then he headed for the coolers.
When he came back to the table, Annie was getting up - and taking her mostly full plate along with her.
"Where you goin'?" he demanded.
Annie ignored his question. "See y'all later..." She turned and walked away as a series of sharp looks zipped around the table - Naomi to Ted and Ted to Joe, Joe to Patty and Patty back to Naomi again.
Greg scooped up his own plate and followed behind her. She was moving pretty fast. He had to lengthen his stride to catch up with her.
"Hey. What's the hurry?"
She sent him a peeved sort of look and kept walking.
"Annie. Come on..."
She stopped stock-still, though she didn't look at him. Out of the corner of her mouth, she said, "What do you want?"
He hardly knew where to begin. "Well, I.,."
She turned and faced him, dead on, tipping up that soft little chin. "Excuse me. Was that supposed to be an answer?"
He fisted his hands to keep them from grabbing her. "We have to talk."
She let out a laugh. It was not a happy sound. "You're something, you know that? Lately, you're always telling me how we have to talk. And then, when it comes down to it, you've got nothin' to say I haven't heard before - well, except about my hair. That was new and different. And not the least appreciated."
He knew everyone within a twenty-foot radius was watching. And he felt about two inches tall. "Look. In private. Okay?"