by Amy Briant
Sarah seemed glad to have a reason not to go in just yet. She grabbed Dorsey’s arm and said, “Come on—I’ll walk you to the corner.”
They strolled arm in arm down the block, scudding clouds alternately revealing and obscuring the quarter moon above. The wind gently ruffled the green leaves of the trees, sprinkling them with a few fat raindrops. They stopped at the corner, out of sight of Maggie’s house. Dorsey slowly disengaged her arm, her fingertips lingering on Sarah’s for a moment.
“This is me,” she said, pointing east down the cross street, in the direction of her house.
Sarah gave her another one of those searching glances, her lips parted ever so slightly as she gazed upward at her.
“Good night, Dorsey,” she said. She reached up and gave her a swift hug, which ended with an equally swift light kiss on the cheek. With Sarah’s arms still around her neck and the feel of her soft lips still on her cheek, Dorsey looked into her eyes for a long moment. This is my best friend’s cousin, she thought with some confusion. But this is my Silver Lake Goddess. No, this is someone I don’t really know at all…
A car door slammed up the street, making her involuntarily flinch. She took two quick steps back from Sarah as she heard the engine start. Headlights flared, catching them in their beam. A pickup came slowly down the street behind them, paused at the intersection and then moved on.
Sarah looked at her with some confusion of her own, mixed with reproach, Dorsey thought.
“I—” she started.
“No, it’s fine,” Sarah said shortly, taking a step backward of her own. “I shouldn’t have done that. Sorry.”
“No, wait—” Dorsey tried again.
But Sarah was already hurrying back up the street toward the Bigelow house. She saw Sarah go up the walk, heard the front door open and close in the clear night air. She stood there alone for a few minutes in the darkness, cursing herself, cursing Romeo Falls, wishing her life were anything but what it was.
“Good night, Sarah,” she finally said out loud to nothing and nobody, feeling as if a hand were cruelly squeezing her heart. Wanting nothing more than to go grab Sarah and hold her tight, to feel her body against hers one more time. As she turned and slowly headed for home, a fine, mist-like drizzle came down, beading her head and shoulders with moisture.
Chapter Four
On Tuesday morning, Luke Bergstrom sat at his desk in the police station. Wearing latex gloves, he was examining a box wrapped in brown paper. It had been mailed to “Romeo Falls Police” in town the previous day. It wasn’t heavy. Or ticking. It was about the size of a shoebox and didn’t smell like anything except the paper it was wrapped in. The address label had been generated by a computer and looked completely generic. There was no return address. He hadn’t fingerprinted it, but there were no identifying marks visible to the naked eye. He picked up the box and shook it gently. He could feel the contents shift inside and heard them rustle lightly. He didn’t really think it was anything dangerous, but Luke was a cautious man when he had the time to be. Four years in the Marine Corps and fourteen on the force had taught him that. On the other hand, the police department did get mail and hand-delivered packages, just like everybody else. Hell, the little old ladies in this town still brought baked goods to the station for the cops. And they ate them too.
This box didn’t have cookies in it, though. It didn’t weigh enough for that. Luke had a funny feeling about it. He decided to take it out back to the small parking lot behind the station and open it there.
“Whatcha got there, Chief?” Officer Argyle had spotted him in the hallway with the box under his arm and was alert to the possibility of home-baked brownies in the building.
“Anonymous box someone sent us. I’m going to open it outside just in case it’s something messy.”
Gargoyle hitched up her belt and followed him, though she kept a safe distance as he knelt down to open it. Still wearing his gloves, he carefully removed the brown wrapping paper to reveal, as expected, a cardboard shoebox. The brand of shoes was a popular one—practically every kid in town and many of the adults were wearing that brand that year. The label identifying the size and style of the shoes had been ripped off. With his pen, Luke gently lifted the top off the box.
“What is it?” Gargoyle called.
“Come see for yourself,” Luke said, picking up the box and holding it so she could view the contents. Which were a dozen carnation heads, all spray-painted black. Except for one on top, in the middle. It was painted red.
* * *
Dorsey wiped the sweat off her forehead with the sleeve of her T-shirt and decided to call it a day. The locusts were keening so loudly she could hardly hear herself think. The Bartholomews’ deck was looking pretty good. A few more days and the job would be complete, in plenty of time before their scheduled return from Europe.
By the time she’d put her tools away, swept the deck and watered the plants, it was almost seven thirty. Maggie and Sarah were running late, which was odd. Maggie was the type who would always show up early so Dorsey wondered what was keeping them. She never drank on the job, but had brought a cooler with a six-pack of St. Pauli Girl beer in it for the “party.” She opened one now, savoring the coolness of the green glass bottle in her hands and the cold beer on her tongue as she sat down on the steps of the deck to await the arrival of her guests.
After that debacle on Sunday night, she had wondered if the picnic plan would still be on, but Maggie had assured her on the phone that it was. She sounded the same as ever—cheerful and enthused—so apparently Sarah hadn’t said anything to her. Maybe it was all for the best, Dorsey kept telling herself. Anything that involved lying to Maggie was not good. And besides—did she really think Sarah from the big city had any long-term interest in her small-town self? It was better just to view her as a new friend. A short-term friend. An acquaintance, really. Her social circle was so limited, any addition to it was to be valued.
She hadn’t seen Sarah, or Maggie for that matter, since Sunday and was looking forward to seeing both of them now. Between the hardware store and the deck, she’d been busy with work. Maggie was off for the summer (one of the perks of her teaching job) and thus was free to go do whatever with Sarah. Dorsey wondered what they’d been up to. After they’d visited all the Bigelow relatives in the tri-county area, what was there to do? And where the hell were they anyhow?
She decided to change into her swimsuit in the Bartholomews’ kitchen, which was just off the deck, and then fire up the hot tub. Whether Maggie and Sarah showed or not, she might as well enjoy the bubbles. Although just how enjoyable that would be all by her lonesome was debatable. And to think she’d splurged and bought a new bathing suit for this. Her old Speedo one-piece was fine for swimming laps at the community center pool, but she’d found herself wanting to look good for Sarah. What was the point of staying in shape if you couldn’t show off your abs once in a while? Her daily ritual of fifty push-ups and fifty sit-ups ought to earn some reward. As she shucked off her jeans to change into her green-and-black bikini top paired with black boyshort-style bottoms, she wondered what Sarah would be wearing… Then told herself to snap out of it. This wasn’t a date, she firmly told herself. Maggie was coming too. Just three friends hanging out.
She finished changing, then walked out on the deck to turn on the hot tub. She dipped a toe into the bubbles. Although the warm night air felt good on her skin, she realized she did not want to greet the other two in just her swimsuit. She pulled her jeans back on and stuck her bare feet in her unlaced work boots, in case she needed to venture out on the gravel driveway to help them unload. The sunset was spectacular off to the west, with the sun hiding behind big puffy clouds glowing pink and gold. The external lights for the house, deck and yard came on automatically as the light diminished, casting shadows amongst the large potted plants that lined the railing of the deck. The Bartholomews, who were one of the wealthier families in the area, also had a fancy automated misting system that kep
t the mosquitoes away. As she retrieved another “Girl Beer” (as Shaw called them) from the cooler, Dorsey heard a car pull off the highway and head up the long driveway toward the house.
“Finally!” Dorsey said out loud. It was Maggie’s sensible sedan, not the cute little Bug. They pulled around to the side of the house where the large deck formed an L to the main structure. Dorsey waved to them from the top of the steps, then went down toward the car.
“Hey there, women!”
The engine was still running. The passenger door opened and Sarah got out, wearing shorts and a T-shirt. While she went to the back of the car to unload the trunk, Maggie leaned over to speak to Dorsey through the open passenger window. She looked a bit frazzled.
“Hey, Mags—what’s up?”
“Oh, you are not going to believe this! Mother tripped over that stupid Carmichael just as we were getting ready to leave and hurt her ankle. It might be broken.”
Carmichael was Mrs. Bigelow’s elderly beagle.
“Oh, no,” Dorsey said. “Is she going to be okay?”
“Well, I just left her at Dr. Melba’s office, but I may have to run her over to the ER in Grover to get an x-ray. And then I had to take that damn Carmichael to the vet as well. He and Mother both went down in a heap and it looks like he may have broken his ankle too! Can you believe it?”
“Uh…do dogs even have ankles?” Dorsey wondered.
“Well, whatever the doggy equivalent of an ankle is,” Maggie said shortly, uncharacteristically out of sorts. “In any event, I have to get back. But I brought Sarah and the picnic basket—there’s no point in all of us having our evening ruined.” She sighed, clearly unhappy with the turn of events.
Sarah had set a basket, a cooler and a beach towel down on the drive. She closed the trunk and joined Dorsey at the passenger window. As she crouched down beside her to talk to Maggie, the soft cotton of her shirt brushed Dorsey’s bare side. A visceral tingle ran through Dorsey’s body, releasing a shiver that was almost a shudder. She did her best to conceal her unexpected physical reaction. Be cool, she sternly told herself. But there was nothing cool about the way her body was responding to Sarah’s close proximity.
“Really, Mags, maybe I should come with you,” Sarah was saying. It sounded like the continuation of a prior conversation. “I can keep you company at the ER or wherever.”
“Yeah, I can come too, if that will be of any help,” Dorsey volunteered, although she already felt crushed with disappointment at the thought of abandoning their plans. She so rarely got to have just a fun night. Spending the evening at the Grover City emergency room—since there was no hospital in Romeo Falls—sounded utterly grim by comparison.
“No, no,” Maggie said decisively. “You know how Mother gets. The more people around her, the more she’ll just act up. It’ll be easier, really, to deal with her by myself. Hopefully, it’s just a sprain and I can just take her home when I get back to Dr. Melba’s.”
“What about Carmichael?” Dorsey asked, although she had zero affection for that scruffy hound. Despite the fact she’d been a regular visitor to the Bigelow house since long before Carmichael had arrived on the scene as a puppy twelve years prior, the damn dog still barked at her hysterically every time she went over. He’d also bitten Maggie twice over the years and was housebroken only when he felt like it. Lassie, he was not.
“The vet’s going to keep him overnight,” Maggie said. “Anyhow, I’ve got to run—I’ll come back if I can and join you two later, so save me a beer, for heaven’s sakes! I’ll need one by then. But if I can’t make it, Dorsey, you’ll give Sarah a ride home, right?”
“Of course,” Dorsey agreed.
“See you!” Maggie called as she executed a quick three-point turn and headed back into town, leaving a trail of dust behind her.
It seemed very quiet when she’d gone. Even the screeching of the locusts had died down for the moment, leaving only the chirping of crickets and the bubbling of the hot tub to fill the warm night air.
Dorsey and Sarah looked at each other.
“Wow,” Dorsey said, for lack of a better word.
“Yeah, poor Mags,” Sarah said, then added dutifully, “And Aunt Viv too, of course. That stupid dog… I think she was more worried about him than herself. Do you know that crazy mutt will come in my room and destroy my things if I don’t put everything out of his reach? He was chewing on my hairbrush the other day. Lord only knows how he got a hold of that.”
Dorsey couldn’t help but smile at her. Sarah smiled back. The night seemed suddenly full of possibility.
“Look,” Sarah said. “About the other night…”
“I’m sorry,” Dorsey interjected, just as Sarah simultaneously said, “I’m sorry.”
They both laughed then, relieved. Dorsey went on, glad to have the opportunity to share her feelings with the other girl, even if her words were tumbling over one another.
“It’s just that it’s a small town…and Maggie’s my best friend… and with you not being out to her…”
“I know,” Sarah said.
“Why aren’t you out?” Dorsey heard herself blurt out involuntarily. “I’m sorry, that came out kind of rude, I guess. It’s none of my business. If you don’t want to talk about it, that’s cool.”
“No, we can talk about it,” Sarah said seriously, but then grinned. “I’m pretty sure that’s going to require some alcohol, though.”
“Oh, of course,” Dorsey said. “Where are my manners? Let’s get this stuff up on the deck. And then we can talk, or I can show you around, or whatever.”
“Whatever sounds good,” Sarah agreed, still grinning. Between the two of them, they moved all the party supplies to the patio table at the end of the deck.
“Would you like a beer?” Dorsey asked, opening her cooler to offer her a St. Pauli Girl.
Sarah laughed and opened the cooler she had brought to reveal more St. Pauli Girl, plus a bottle of wine.
“Yeah,” she said. “I’d love one of your beers.”
Their fingers touched briefly as Dorsey handed her an opened bottle. It was just a little thing, the two of them bringing the same beer, but it felt like a good start to the evening.
“So—do you actually want a tour of the farm, like Maggie said?” Dorsey asked. “There’s not much to see with the sun almost down, but I could show you their barn, at least. Take a picture of you sitting on the tractor that you can show all your big-city friends,” she teased.
“Well, as thrilling as that sounds, after all that medical drama I’d rather just chill out in the hot tub and drink a few beers, you know what I mean?”
“Absolutely,” Dorsey said. “You can change in the house, if you like.”
“Oh, that’s okay,” Sarah said, setting her beer down and kicking off her flip-flops. “I’ve got my suit on underneath here.”
In one swift, graceful move, she peeled off her T-shirt, leaving Dorsey breathless as she saw first the shapely curves of her stomach, then a quick glimpse of the underside of a bikini-clad breast. Dorsey’s eyes followed upward from the bikini top to slender shoulders and an elegant neck.
Sarah was already taking off her shorts to reveal the bottom half of a swimsuit in radiant tones of pink, lavender and purple, much like the sunset behind her. She looked up to find Dorsey’s entranced gaze locked on her. The body was everything she’d remembered from that night by the lake.
“I like your outfit too,” Sarah said wryly to Dorsey, adjusting her glasses which had been knocked slightly askew by her quick change act. Her eyes slowly scanned down Dorsey’s lithe frame to take in her bikini top, abs, low-slung holey blue jeans and unlaced work boots. She lazily trailed a fingertip across Dorsey’s stomach as she walked past her to the hot tub. Dorsey stared after her for a second, taking in the very nice rear view, then hastily shed her boots and jeans, leaving them in a pile on the deck. Sarah was delicately dipping a toe in the water. Dorsey joined her after grabbing both their beers, the smaller of the
two coolers and the bottle opener.
“How’s the temperature?” Dorsey asked, handing Sarah her beer and setting the cooler and opener down at the side of the tub.
“Very nice,” Sarah declared judiciously. “After you,” she gestured with a graceful sweep of her arm.
Dorsey stepped in and waded to the far side. Sarah serenely sat down opposite her. To Dorsey, it felt like they were a mile apart. She tried to relax, leaning back against the side of the tub and stretching both arms out at shoulder level along the top. Now that she and Sarah were finally, totally alone, they could both speak freely. She hoped. She looked up at the first evening stars in the vast sky above them and took a big breath.
“So…you were saying?” she prompted Sarah.
“About being out?”
Dorsey nodded and took a sip of her beer.
“Aunt Viv is my mother’s older sister,” Sarah began slowly. “My mom moved away from Romeo Falls a long time ago, before I was born. She and Viv are not alike in a lot of ways, but my mom is very conservative. Like Viv.”
There was a long pause while Sarah took a drink of her beer and seemed to be marshaling her thoughts.
“Anyhow,” she continued, “let’s just say it was difficult for her when I came out to my parents. My dad was pretty cool with it, once he got over the initial shock, but my mom…well, it’s been a hard road for her. And me.”
She looked down. Dorsey thought she looked like she might be blinking away tears. Compassion welled inside her.
Sarah shook her head as if to shake away unwelcome thoughts and went on.
“Anyway,” she said, “she made me promise not to tell anyone else in the family. Not yet, at least. Not until she’s ready. And I’ve been honoring that promise, although it’s getting harder and harder.” She laughed mirthlessly. “It’s been five years, so far.”
“Five years!” Dorsey exclaimed.
“Yeah. I told you she was having a hard time with it.”
“That sucks,” Dorsey said.