Numbly, the woman retraced her steps back out the hall and down a side corridor. Regina did not even have to ask where Michael was being held. She knew from previous experience where the troublemakers were detained until their parents showed up. All the classrooms had large locks on the doors to keep the students in, but the room that held her son was especially battened down.
The guard stoically unlocked the three different dead bolts. Michael just sat sullenly in a metal chair not even acknowledging her presence when she walked in.
Signing the release form, Regina tried in vain to keep her anger in check. “Michael, out to the car.”
“I’m not the dog!” the teen snarled as he stomped past her.
No, but I could probably handle you a lot better if you were, Regina thought. But taunting her son did no good. The two needed real communication, but when was the last time that had happened? Instead, they sniped at one another, always looking for a weakness in the other. Sometimes, she was as bad as he.
Once outside, Michael’s pace became a crawl. Looking at her watch, Regina realized they had to hurry if they were going to make it across town in time to pick up Meryl. “Would you please hurry?”
The question served to slow his footsteps.
“Michael! Your sister’s practice ends in ten minutes.”
The boy moved no faster as he threw himself into the backseat. Only by threatening to call his father did Regina get him to put on his safety belt. The drive across town was no better. Michael glowered the entire ride and refused to speak, even when asked a direct question. Regina sighed. Once his father got home things would only worsen.
“Mom! Michael!” Meryl yelled as she ran across the soccer field. The adolescent girl was all bounce and joy, so unlike her brother. She opened the back door and went to throw in her gear, but Michael silently refused to move. Shrugging good-naturedly, Meryl hopped in the passenger’s side of the Suburban and tucked her stuff under the seat.
“How’d practice go?” Regina asked.
“Great!”
“And school?”
“Even better!” Meryl answered again.
Regina noticed in the rear view mirror that Michael sarcastically copied his sister. She did not bother to correct him.
“I got an ‘A’ on my math test.”
“That’s great, Meryl. Good job.” Even to her own ear, the words sounded hollow. Regina tried to sound happy for her daughter, but it was a little difficult with the news that she had just received from the principal. How she had managed to raise a daughter as bright and outgoing as Meryl when Regina was obviously such a lousy parent was a near miracle.
Meryl could not help but bubble with all the news of the day. She had so many friends and so many activities that Regina had made an actual scorecard for her daughter’s last birthday. They had it posted on the refrigerator.
Most days, Regina welcomed the adolescent’s exuberant attitude, but today it annoyed her. She tried to nod and smile at the appropriate times during her daughter’s story. Yet all Regina wanted was to get home before Wayne. There would be fire-works tonight, and she would rather Meryl be at a friend’s house before they started.
“Can I, Mom?”
Regina had no idea what Meryl was taking about. “Can you what?”
“Go over to Sabrina’s after I get my homework done?”
“Call Sabrina. You can head over as soon as we get home.”
Meryl pumped her hand in joy, “Oh, yeah!”
“No fair!” Michael broke his self-imposed exile.
Regina did not bother to answer her son’s protest as they pulled into the driveway. As soon as the car stopped, both kids jumped out of the car and raced for the front door. Meryl beat her brother but got pushed aside for her efforts. Once the door was opened, Fury, the family’s Doberman, burst out of the house. For a supposed guard dog, Fury was a little too playful for her own good. The dog jumped and leapt, nearly over the kid’s heads. Michael actually laughed for a moment before he caught himself.
Wayne’s hopes that the dog would help Michael be more responsible had fallen by the wayside months ago. It appeared his first-born would let the dog starve before the sullen teen would commit to any set feeding schedule. Despite her husband’s objections, Regina had taken over the care of the dog. The irony being, she was the only one who had not wanted to darn thing.
Regina could not help but grin as well, though, when Fury jumped up and licked her cheek. Well, at least the dog was a female. Regina could not imagine trying to deal with a huge male dog who insisted on marking on all over the furniture. Wayne and Michael were more than enough testosterone for her to handle.
Regina smiled secretly. There was another reason she was so pleased that Fury was a female. She could remember when Wayne packed them into his Wagoneer and took them out to the breeder’s house. Wayne had promised Michael a dog if he would stay in school. Of course, their son had gotten kicked out of yet another institution, but Wayne still put down the deposit on the puppy. When they got to the ramshackle house, the woman had refused to part with the only male of the litter. No matter how much Wayne screamed or yelled, the breeder would not give in. Needless to say, the family had to move out of town once Wayne fired the woman’s husband from the mill, but it was nice to see someone actually stand up to him if only for a bright shining moment.
Meryl had been the one to pick Fury because she was the only little puppy that did not run away when Wayne started hollering. Of course, it turned out that the pup was partially deaf, but that was probably for the best. Regina’s husband had a habit of being a bit loud. Like tonight, Regina was sure that Wayne would give them all an earful. Patting the dog, she slowly made her way towards the front door.
Everything was so much nicer out here. There wasn’t the smell of fear that lingered in the house. Taking off her filthy boots before entering, Regina found Michael lounging on the couch, the TV already full blast.
“Turn that off and get to your room.”
Michael sneered. “Make me.”
Regina held back her initial retort. Threatening her son with Wayne was useless anymore. Wayne’s behavior was so erratic that she could not count on her husband to back Regina up on something as fundamental as homework before T.V. Accordingly, Michael had no respect left for her.
They both heard Wayne’s car before they saw it. The Jeep Wrangler must have burnt rubber all the way down their driveway. Michael’s demeanor changed, and his feet flew off the side of the couch. Wayne was through the front door before Regina could even change her shirt.
“Say hello to the new owner of Backwash Mills!” Wayne shouted as he entered the house.
Regina was stunned by his exuberance, not trusting the apparent good mood. There was an edge even to his celebration. “That’s great, honey.”
Her husband’s voice took on a dangerous tone. “Damn right it is. Do you know how long I’ve been badgering those assholes?” Turning to Michael, his voice upbeat again. “Put it their, son!”
Michael stood up and shook his dad’s hand, but even her son looked confused at Wayne’s bizarre mood.
“Wayne, we need to talk,” Regina said, hoping to get her husband alone before he heard the bad news.
“I think we need to celebrate. What do you think, Michael?”
Before her son could answer, she cut in, “We really need--”
“You talking about the trouble at the school? Please, that’s already been taken care of.”
“But… but the principal said --”
Wayne snorted. “That pencil-necked geek? He’s nothing.” Her husband’s tone lowered, and he gave Regina a hard stare. “Don’t ever think anything in this town happens without me knowing about it.”
Unconsciously, the woman took a step back. Many times that tone signaled a backhand coming. She had to look away. Regina could not take the pain of his gaze, but he just laughed at her, right in front of their son.
Wayne put an arm around Michael’s neck like
a bear hug, only it did not look that fun to her son. “Snuck out through the wire mesh. Damn, but you are my son! I don’t know if I’d have the guts to do that at your age.” The turned to Regina. “What’s for dinner?”
Panicking, but trying hard not to show it, Regina scrambled for an excuse. Through all the turmoil, she had plain out forgotten to start dinner. Wayne’s fragile good mood could turn to rage if supper was not ready.
Before she could open her mouth, Michael stepped in. “She’s been chopping stuff for a stew, but I don’t feel like that tonight. Can’t we go out to celebrate instead?”
“Now that’s the best damn idea I’ve heard all day.” Wayne shouted down the hallway, “Meryl, get your butt out here. We’re going to dinner!”
Regina did not move for a moment; she was so surprised. Her son had to know that she had not spent the afternoon preparing dinner. Why had he said that? Had Michael just lied for her? Had he just protected her? She stared at her son, but the boy would not meet her glance.
Meryl came halfway down the hall, her schoolbag ready. “But Daddy, I’m going over to Sabrina’s to do homework --”
“You’ll do what I say you’ll do,” Wayne harshly replied.
Her husband’s brusque tone brought Regina out of the shock. “Meryl, honey, we’ll go to dinner, then drop you off over there.”
Her daughter shook her head. “But I haven’t even started my homework yet.”
Wayne was nearing explosion level. “What kind of damn daughter are you raising here, Regina? She can’t get her nose out of a book and --”
“Meryl, you’ll have plenty of time over at Sabrina’s.” Before her daughter could interrupt again, Regina rushed on. “Now go get in the backseat. Okay?”
Looking less than satisfied, Meryl headed out the door but made sure to give a big sigh as she left. Wayne was still busy play-boxing with Michael. Not that the blows looked very pulled to Regina. Her husband looked over his shoulder at her. “Well, you’d better put that pathetic excuse for a dinner away. And get changed, woman. You shouldn’t run around in public looking like that. We’ve got a reputation to keep up.”
Regina mumbled something, she was not even sure what it was, but it got her out of the room. As she entered the kitchen to pantomime cleaning up, her mind spun. How had her husband gotten Michael back into the school? How had Wayne convinced the Stahler Brothers to sell their mill? But most importantly, why had Michael lied for her?
CHAPTER 3
After the grueling drive and disappointment of being stood up by Mr. Togglehorn, Quinton would have been perfectly happy driving through the town’s sole Dairy Deluxe. But, no, Ralph wanted a sit-down dinner. And did his assistant just pick any restaurant in town? No, Ralph had to pick the one all the way across town, then insisted on walking to feel the night air. This kid really was a tree-hugger.
But dusk had fallen and even Quinton had to admit that the sunset was spilling a thousand different hues upon the horizon. The mist that crept into the forest had a certain aura to it, but he certainly was not going to admit that to anyone but himself.
“How many trees do you think they cut down per year?” Ralph asked.
Not wanting to get into yet another debate about clear-cutting, Quinton hedged. “We’ll find that out tomorrow when we take a look at their books.”
To Quinton’s surprise, Ralph did not press the issue. His assistant was a bit preoccupied with the stars overhead. “I grew up in the city you know? All bright lights and traffic. I never had a night sky like this.”
The town had few streetlights. Even walking down the main drag you had a clear view of the night. Before he could think, Quinton continued the conversation, “Where I was raised, we didn’t have a neighbor around for miles. You can imagine my surprise when I saw my first traffic jam.”
“God, I would have loved to have grown up in the country. I think it makes you respect it more.”
His temporary lapse of cynicism ended as Quinton responded flatly, “Not necessarily.”
“Really?” Ralph gave him a sideways glance. “Because rumor is back in the day, you respected it so much you weren’t above spiking a tree or two.”
Quinton stopped cold and turned on his young assistant. “I never…” He had to hold his rage back. More level he answered, “I never monkey-wrenched. Never put anyone or any animal in jeopardy.”
“Hey, I’m not saying I’d blame you if --”
“Well, you should. Anyone who does that crap is no environmentalist. They’re self-righteous cowards. Nothing more.”
Quinton held Ralph’s gaze, then the shorter man did the weirdest thing, he smiled. “Dude, I was just going to say I wouldn’t blame you if you got tired of having to defend yourself all the time.” Ralph renewed his stroll down the street. “I thought I’d let you answer the rumor yourself rather than judge you by office gossip.”
“But… I…”
Ralph shrugged. “Back at college, I was at the E.R. for an ear infection when a logger came in, cut up, bad, after his chainsaw hit a spike. He lost an eye and half his face. I may be new to this but maybe cut me some slack I’m not that naïve.”
The younger man was several steps down the road before Quinton’s shock wore off. This kid just kept surprising him. He trotted to catch up. He had wanted to say something, maybe even apologize, but the words just didn’t come so they walked through the twilight in silence. Only the occasional laugh or shout carried on the wind from the neighboring homes. Some might call the houses cute. Each one had a tidy front yard, and they were all about the same size. They had that early tract home look before the country knew what a tract home was.
As they strolled past the town, his assistant kept fidgeting with his shirt’s collar. It seemed Ralph was going for a more earthy look tonight and could not get his flannel shirt to lie the way he wanted it to. Quinton did not know much about fashion, but the pocket protector that was neatly filled with mechanical pencils did not exactly go with the plaid shirt or the thick hiking boots that Ralph was wearing.
“You might want to button that top one,” Quinton mentioned. Normally he wouldn’t comment on another man’s wardrobe, but the four stray hairs that poked out of the collar did nothing to enhance the macho image that Ralph was obviously shooting for.
The younger man fidgeted even more. “Why?”
Quinton indicated towards the offending stray hairs. “Just a little sparse there.”
“What? These?” Ralph preened the hairs as if they were King Solomon’s mane. “The ladies love ‘em.”
Shrugging, Quinton let it go. If the kid thought he looked hot, who was he to stop him? Besides, “Wagon Wheel of B-B-Q” flashed from a cracked neon sign just ahead. The establishment looked like any other small town diner. The paint on the outside of the building was flaking off in huge chunks. The fake rock exterior had a few gashes in it, revealing the underlying pink primer. The place had the look and feel of a dive. Quinton could only hope that the money they saved on upkeep was spent on the quality of their beef.
Ralph was on his game as they entered the restaurant. His assistant smiled broadly at the hostess, and even though she was a pretty little thing, she smiled back. Ralph really had no shame.
The young hostess asked, “How many?”
“Two, please,” Ralph said with a wink. “Unless, of course, you would like to join us?”
Blushing and giggling, the girl answered, “I’d love to, but my boss wouldn’t like that much.”
Ralph lightly laid a hand on the hostess’ shoulder as they walked down the aisle. “Well, I’ll just have to talk to the him about that.”
Quinton would have gotten himself slapped if he had tried a maneuver like that. But the young woman just laughed and gave them the best seat in the house, although that was up for debate. The booth that the girl led them to was smack dab in front of the huge open spit. On long skewers, racks of meat and chicken turned slowly over the fire. It had been years since Quinton had been a vegetarian
, but the site of so much flesh still turned his stomach. Maybe he would just have the ‘monster salad’ tonight.
“Look who just walked in,” Ralph said over his open menu.
Quinton looked behind him to find a family of four enter the restaurant, but he did not recognize a one of them. The father of the group was already giving the hostess a hassle while the rest of the family looked on, obviously embarrassed. The mother turned away from the scene and caught Quinton’s eye. For a brief moment, they looked at one another. Perhaps both trying to figure out if they knew each other or not.
“Smile,” Ralph whispered harshly to Quinton as he kicked him under the table.
Without thinking, Quinton obeyed the younger man half-heartedly. But when the woman responded with a shy grin, his own lips widened into a true smile. All else seemed to vanish. The loud hiss of fat hitting the grill. The clatter of dishes being washed. All this faded as he smiled. The corner of the woman’s eyes crinkled a bit, and he thought she might say something, but the real world intruded upon their perfect moment. The husband grabbed the woman’s arm and jerked her towards a booth on the other side of the restaurant. Quinton felt like jumping up to her defense, but the family was whisked away so quickly that he did not have time.
“Who was that?” Quinton asked, still disturbed by the experience. Whether it was the feeling he had towards the woman or her husband’s cruelty, he did not know.
“Oh, that was the Togglehorn family,” Ralph answered ever so casually as he pulled the menu up in front of his face.
Quinton could not believe it. “No way. How would you know?”
“Hello? The huge mural above the secretary’s desk? The guy practically built a shrine to himself.”
“You... You had me smile at Mr. Togglehorn’s wife?”
Ralph just shrugged despite Quinton’s horrified tone. “Yep. Fun wasn’t it?”
Indian Moon Page 2