Nobody Knows Your Secret

by Green, Jeri

  Poor Oswold. He looked so small in that gown. The plastic May Queen tiara sat crooked atop his greasy thatch of red hair. His bottom lip trembled as he entered the old log shed, but to his credit, Oswold did not cry.

  The next morning, Bill, who had sat beside that smokehouse the entire night to make sure nothing happened to the boy, opened the creaking, wooden door. Oswold Tennie was all smiles.

  “What’s the deal, Oswold?” Bill said. “I thought I’d open the door and find you fit to be tied. Spending all night in this stinkin’ smokehouse couldn’t have been a picnic.”

  “Oh, but it was, sir. I guess Savannah don’t like peanut butter. I found four sandwiches left over in there. A little stale, but good enough to get me through the night.”

  “Oswold,” Bill said, “you haven’t learned a thing, have you?”

  “Yes, sir. I sure have. The next time I go after a woman, I’m gonna make sure she loves peanut butter. Life ain’t worth livin’ without a good peanut butter sandwich ever’ day.”

  “If you say so, Oswold. And Oswold. Take that dress off. You smell so of ham and smoke, you’re libel to get eaten by a grizzly on your way home.”

  Oswold took off the gown and the May Queen crown. The town council voted three to two to cease the May Queen competition. There was just too much bad publicity associated with it.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  I saw you there among the trees.

  The whisp’ring winds,

  A gentle breeze.

  My true love waits among the leaves,

  Amid the hills of the whisp’ring breeze.

  The winds tell you I will come back

  To take you home to mountains black.

  The winds, they tell of pure delights,

  Of sunny days and endless nights.

  My true love waits among the trees.

  You listen to the whisp’ring breeze.

  You stand alone.

  Pray on your knees.

  You cannot know Death’s taken me.

  My ghost walks now among the trees,

  With the whispering winds and the gentle breeze.

  You speak of times. Such pure delight.

  Of sunny days and endless nights.

  The crowd was large; the applause was loud.

  “That was Hobie Stricker and the Speckled Pups. Thanks for listenin’ in to our broadcast today at WAMR 89.5. Hope you enjoyed that song by Declan Wilson. He wrote it special for Ruth Elliot, dedicated to her and played for you for the first time, today. Thank ya, Hobie. That was a fine rendition. Now, let’s take a minute and remind you to come on down to The Band-Aid. Buy something, folks. Proceeds go to a good cause. The animals in our area need all the help we can give them. Take us on out, Hobie. Here he is, folks. Hobie Stricker.”

  Hobie stepped up to the mike and lit into a bright, toe-tapping tune.

  “Don’t you just love the fast ones,” Maury said.

  “I love the fast one, the sad ones,” Hadley said, “and the slow ones that pull my heart strings right out of my nostrils. Hobie Stricker is the absolute best in my book.”

  “And your little tune wasn’t too shabby either, Doc,” Maury said.

  “Let’s go over to the Spoon and celebrate, Ruth,” Declan said.

  “It’s going to have to be a late supper,” Ruth said. “This crowd will hang around until dark. Hobie always draws them in. They ask for more, and Hobie generously plays. I don’t know what I’d do without him. I’ve been able to afford so many more supplies since we started this little venture.”

  “I think Hobie gets as much as he gives,” said Declan. “He’s in his element up there on that porch.”

  “He does look happy, doesn’t he,” Ruth said. “You know, I’ve never noticed it until today, but watch Hobie’s eyes. He seems to smile his brightest when he’s looking at Hadley.”

  “Ruth Elliot,” Declan said, “you’re as bad as my match-making maternal grandmother.”

  “Was she successful in her profession?” Ruth asked.

  “She introduced me to my first wife,” Declan said.

  Ruth was taken aback. First wife implied a second. Declan hadn’t mentioned being married. In fact, he never talked much about his life at all.

  “I’m sorry,” Declan said. “How stupid of me. Of course, you couldn’t know. My first wife divorced me after three years. I’ve been married to my second wife, Clarissa, for 12 years. Clarissa and I have sort of . . . how do I say this? We’ve drifted our separate ways over the years.”

  “You’re married,” Ruth said.

  “Separated,” said Declan.

  “Oh,” Ruth said.

  She should have known there had to be a catch. Declan Wilson was just too good to be true. And after her disastrous relationship with Bobbie Joe Elliott, you’d think she would have learned a thing or two. How could she fall for the wrong guy, again?

  “I’m really sorry, Declan, but I’ve got to see about things in The Band-Aid.”

  “Are we on for tonight?”

  “We’ll see,” Ruth said. “There are so many loose ends that I have to tie up this afternoon.”

  “Call me,” Declan said.

  Ruth waved and disappeared into the shop. Declan looked over the crowd. It was a fantastic turnout. The day couldn’t have gone any better. Any better, that is, until he mentioned being married. Declan stubbed the toe of his boot into the ground. It looked like another lonely night in Motelville.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  “Hadley,” Anna said, “what are you doing way out here?”

  Hadley had dropped by the airstrip.

  “You want another ride across the county?” Anna asked.

  “No, Anna,” Hadley said. “I baked a cake for Hobie. I’ve dropped it off. He’s busy working at the shop. I was so close, I thought I’d stop in and see if you were here. I know that the library’s closed for the holiday. You said once that you spend your days off here with Stanley.”

  “It’s great to see you.”

  “I only see your little plane in the hanger.”

  “Yes, Dr. Wilson left at the crack of dawn this morning. Stanley’s an early bird, but even he wasn’t up in time to see the doctor off. Stanley’s driving his rental car back.”

  “Strange,” Hadley murmured.

  “What’s that?” Anna said.

  “Oh, nothing. “Bad habit. I talk to myself. Comes from living with a cat who’s not much on conversation.”

  “How’s the Internet research coming along?”

  “The Internet is fine, and thanks again for all your help. If I could find the time to get around to browsing more, I think I’d really enjoy surfing. Nothing like a good surf in a string bikini with a cat who wants to hang ten on your keyboard. Onus has developed a love affair with that thing. I can’t shoo him off.”

  “Your cat just likes the warmth it generates,” Anna said.

  “Is that what it is? I was worried that all those typos I making was somehow affecting that cat. You know, I have stumbled into some eye-popping places and, I dunno, I was beginning to think that all that sexual electricity was somehow being transmitted back to the keys on my keyboard.”

  “Not at all,” Anna said.

  “Well,” Hadley said, “I know you and Stanley have a lot to do out here.”

  “Business has really picked up since Ruth opened up her shop, and Hobie plays every weekend. We are becoming quite a hub for weekend tourist stopovers.”

  “I’ll bet,” said Hadley. “Tell Stanley I said ‘hey.’”

  “I will,” said Anna. “See you, soon.”

  Hadley drove straight home. She got on the phone.

  “Maury,” Hadley said, “you busy, today?”

  “Well, I was thinking about soaking my corns, but I guess that can wait. No, seriously, I’ve got nothing on my calendar. Why?”

  “Let’s volunteer at the wildlife shelter today,” Hadley said.

  “But it’s not our scheduled day,” Maury said.
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  “I know that,” Hadley said, “but trust me, will ya? I think Ruth may just need a shoulder to cry on.”

  “What makes you say that, Hadley?”

  “Doctor Hamptoooons flew out bright and early this morning.”

  “So?” said Maury.

  “He lit out before Stanley even opened the airstrip.”

  “I’ll have my Wellies on and be waiting for you,” said Maury.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  “What’s Beanie doing in your backseat, Hadley?” Maury asked as Hadley opened the passenger door for her.

  “Hop in, Sis,” Hadley said. “Beanie was walking down Main. I spotted him on my way over. He’s off today. Harvey’s having hernia surgery.”

  “So,” Maury said, “the cemetery is closed today?”

  “That’s about the size of it,” said Hadley.

  “If Harvey’s out sick,” Beanie added, “I get a vacation day.”

  “Ain’t that nice,” Maury said, looking over at Hadley.

  “Nobody’s there to supervise Beanie,” Hadley said. “Clora usually subs for Harvey if he has something to do, but since Harvey’s having surgery, Clora thinks it’s her wifely duty to be by Harvey’s side.”

  “To hear his confessions while he’s under anesthesia?” Maury asked.

  “Something like that,” said Hadley.

  “What kinda things do you confession under ana . . . anahteasjah, Hadley?” Beanie asked.

  “Oh, things you wouldn’t want your mama to know, Bean,” Hadley said.

  “Ouuuu,” Beanie said. “Hick’ry sticks ’n’ switchy switches.”

  “Yeah,” said Hadley. “Harvey might get his tater patch tilled by Clora.”

  “Boy, I hope not,” Beanie said. “That Clora’s as strong as a mule.”

  “Maybe she’ll knock some sense into Harvey, for once,” said Maury. “And I cannot believe we are having this conversation.”

  “Beanie, are you afraid of snakes?” Hadley said.

  “Not since I saw you wrestle one,” Beanie said.

  “But don’t try that yourself, okay?” Hadley said.

  “What are you two talking about?” Maury asked.

  “Hadley . . .”

  “Bean,” Hadley said, giving him a look in the rearview mirror.

  “Nuthin,” said Beanie.

  “Nuthin’ like a horse’s patoot,” said Maury. “What is he talking about, Hadley?”

  “Promise me, Beanie,” Hadley said.

  “I promise,” said Beanie.

  “Like the man said,” Hadley said. “Nuthin.’”

  “You know,” said Maury, “sometimes I can’t figure out who is worse. Beanie or you!”

  “Hadley says she’s my pea pod,” said Beanie.

  “Your pea pod?”

  “Yeah. We’re just two peas in a pea pod.”

  They pulled up to the service road and pressed the buzzer.

  “How y’all comin’ on cleanin’ out that old buzzard’s house?” Maury asked.

  “Almost done with the heavy stuff,” said Hadley. “Good thing, too. Those dumpsters are about stuffed.”

  “We’re going to party when we’re done,” Beanie said.

  “You are,” said Maury.

  “Yep. Me ’n’ Hadley are gonna get drunk on peach floats and banana splits.”

  “I’d like to see that,” said Maury.

  “No you wouldn’t,” said Hadley. “Trust me. It ain’t gonna be pretty.”

  “Good to see you, guys,” Ruth said. “Unexpected, but always good.”

  “We thought you might could use a few spare hands. Nobody had much to do today. Well, one of us planned to soak her corns,” Hadley said.

  “Hadley!” Maury said. “That was a joke!”

  “I know that,” Hadley said.

  “Whatever,” said Ruth, “I’m always glad to see you. And hello, Beanie. Glad you’ve come to help, too.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Beanie said. “I cain’t rastull no snakes.”

  “Beg pardon,” Ruth said.

  “Hadley made me promise not to rastull no snakes.”

  “I’m glad, Beanie,” Ruth said.

  “Don’t worry, Ruth,” Hadley said. “Beanie and I promise to behave, don’t we, Bean.”

  Beanie shook his head.

  “All right, Beanie you can water and feed the bunnies.”

  “I remember everything you told me, Miz Ruth,” Beanie said.

  “Come on, Beanie,” Maury said, “me ’n’ you got bunny duty. I’ll feed. You water.”

  “A team,” said Beanie.

  “A team, Jelly Bean,” said Maury.

  The two left to start their tasks.

  Hadley looked Ruth in the eyes.

  “How are you?” Hadley asked.

  “Word travels faster than the speed of sound around here,” Ruth said.

  Hadley remained silent.

  “He’s married,” Ruth said, softly.

  “He’s what!” Hadley said. “After all this time, he hadn’t told you? What on earth did you two do? No. Don’t tell me. That’s none of my business. Didn’t you talk? It can’t be hot and heavy all the time.”

  “We did talk,” said Ruth, “lots. But not about ourselves. Declan was so interested in the work here. His practice is conventional. Dogs and cats. Small animals. Nothing like the ones we have here. Skip brought in an injured hawk. Did he tell you?”

  “No,” said Hadley. “Maury didn’t mention it, either. Skip keeps to himself a lot, lately.”

  “Declan and I watched Chester work his magic on her,” Ruth said.

  “Chester is a miracle worker with large birds,” said Hadley.

  “He certainly is. I’m going to ask Chester to teach me some of his secrets,” Ruth said. “That man knows more than anyone or any book I know. That’s what Declan and I discussed. Things like how you people are so amazing. How Chester never went to veterinary school, yet he has garnered more practical knowledge about falconry and large predatory birds that Declan or I will ever know.”

  “Do you think he’ll be back?” Hadley asked.

  “I don’t know. If he does,” Ruth said, “I’ll make it plain that we’re going to be friends. Just friends.”

  “You’re a better woman than I, Gunga Din,” said Hadley.

  “Nonsense,” Ruth said. “I may punch his lights out first for the shabby way he treated me, but if he does show back up, he’s another set of skilled volunteer hands. The animals are what count. Not my pouting sessions.”

  “Well,” said Hadley, “since you put it like that, I won’t hire a hit man to go after him.”

  “Don’t,” Ruth said. “You wouldn’t look good in prison orange, and I need you around here.”

  “What do you want me to do?” asked Hadley.

  They chatted for a little while longer. Hadley got to work cleaning out some pens.

  Ruth knew Hadley didn’t mind the dirty work. It was one of the reasons she was one of Ruth’s favorite volunteers. Hadley was at the far corner of the compound. All of a sudden Hadley heard sirens.

  She prayed it wasn’t a fire. Fire in these dense woods was always one of her worst fears. So many folks were careless with fire. They thought nothing of starting a trash fire on a blustery day, nothing of tossing a lit cigarette out of a car window where it might come to land on patches of bone-dry grass during times of drought.

  Hadley edged closer to the fence that marked the outer perimeter of the wildlife compound. There was a washed area a few feet to her right. It looked like an opening just about her size. Hadley got down on her hands and knees and wiggled through the opening under the fence. She’d have to tell Ruth about it. A bear could wander under that gulf between the gulley washout and the bottom of the chain link fence.

  She grabbed a sapling and hoisted herself up from the ground. Good thing she’d been cleaning out Eustian’s house with Beanie, she thought. All that exercise did her body good. She picked her way through the woods, aiming for t
he general direction where the sirens originated. She thought the noise had come from somewhere near the big clown’s head.

  There was Bill’s car. But it was obvious that he was nowhere around. There was a second patrol car there, as well. Probably Elwin Dollie, one of Bill’s deputies. Bill’s other deputy, Wayman Hoke, was usually assigned to the eastern half of the county.

  What in blue blazes was going on, Hadley wondered as she crept closer. Then, she spotted them. Lying on the ground were several used syringes, just in the corner of the clown’s mouth.

  “Darn drugs,” she whispered.

  She looked back over toward the wildlife center. Ruth had been smart to install that intercom buzz-in system. When Hadley first volunteered, she was fretted that she simply could not come up the back service road and drive right through to the wildlife shelter. It seemed like such a silly inconvenience to have to stop her car, roll down her window, and speak into an intercom. There was something Big Brother about the video cameras Ruth had installed at the entrance, too.

  This was sleepy, little Hope Rock County, for Pete’s sakes. But then Ruth had explained that she had to have the security system around the compound. She kept drugs for the animals in her dispensary, and it would be an open invitation for people to break in and steal them.

  A shiver traced down Hadley’s spine.

  Maybe Ruth should have shelled out the dough to have the whole amusement park under surveillance.

  Too expensive. Too impractical.

  Bill Winthrop, Hadley prayed, you be safe.

  Hadley crept further into the clown’s head. She didn’t see anyone in the hollow cave, but then again, the deepest parts of this gargantuan dome were pitch-black. Anybody could be hiding in the shadows, she thought. I’d never see them coming at me until it was too late.

  She wanted to run away, but the images of Bill chasing after some thug kept her moving forward. Her plan was to stay on the fringes. Heaven forbid, if Bill got shot or injured, she’d be there for him.

  She hadn’t been for Harry.

  The breeze picked up. The wind rushed through the mad clown’s mouth.