by Dana Roquet
After we had finished our drinks and were preparing to leave, Stevie had suddenly taken notice as he’d turned from closing the cash register drawer and he had laughingly coerced Dave into a hilarious rapid fire game of twenty questions as to his intentions regarding our next stop and we were both assailed with some good-natured ribbing from Stevie all the way out the door, about how we were two timing him with that dive across the street and calling us fickle with a deplorable lack of loyalty to his bar.
***
Once we had made our break, we did indeed head across the street to have another drink at Tim’s Time Out and we had a good time talking family with the proprietor, Tim Dinsmore. He is descended from the William Dinsmore clan which is another of the original settler families of Fremont.
“The newer Cedar Township Memorial Cemetery in town is on, what was once, Dinsmore land,” Dave informed me.
“Yeah, back in the fifties the town bought fifteen acres,” Tim agreed with a nod. “My dad’s family actually helped get it into shape…” he paused and then said “Oh shit,” as he looked over our shoulders at something that had caught his eye outside the smoky-glass of the front windows.
We both looked around to see that a huge chartered bus had just pulled up along the curb and within moments the bar was inundated by its couple of dozen occupants out celebrating, what, it wasn’t quite clear, but they were boisterous and they were thirsty.
As Tim quickly got busy with the rowdy crowd from the wayward party bus, Dave and I took our drinks to a booth and continued our getting to know one another. We discovered that we have in common the fact that we are the only members of our immediate families still living in Iowa. His brother Adam had moved to Birmingham, Alabama to go to college; had fallen in love with the south and a southern belle named Jill and had never returned. The other two brothers Mike and Kyle and their families were in Tampa, Florida, making a living by running deep sea fishing excursions for tourists and his dad and mom, Mike and Anna, had retired permanently to Phoenix, Arizona several years ago.
I then provided him with my immediate family tree beginning with my sister Sarah who lives on a horse ranch out in Fountain, Colorado and is married to Jerry. My other sister Margo is married to Sean, who is career military and they currently live in San Antonio, Texas; my dad and his third wife Sandy live on Marco Island, Florida and my mother Grace, my dad’s first wife, passed away suddenly six years ago last January.
“This is going to sound silly,” I said, feeling extremely comfortable with him by now. “But I was always the one who loved all those cozy holiday traditions, you know, big Thanksgiving gatherings, making Christmas cookies with my mom and sisters, and the entire family driving around the city to see the best light displays on Christmas Eve—but then,” I shrugged, tipping my drink to my lips.
“But then,” he urged with a smile that was gentle and held a look of such genuine interest that the truth just spilled out of me easily.
“Then it all ended. My dad left when I was five and my parents divorced by the time I was seven, my sisters’ are both older than me and were up and out of the house before I was raised and then it was just me and my mom and then I lost Mom so,” I paused again and he lowered his brows and narrowed his eyes, willing me to continue.
“So me—the one who has always wanted nothing more than family and all those cozy traditions that go with it, I spend most of my holidays alone and my hope—as silly as it may sound—is that by moving here to Fremont—even though I have nothing more than a bunch of old scrap books full of memories that aren’t even mine, a big old empty farm house, and a cemetery full of dead people that I never knew—I’m hoping to find my home here, you know, roots. Crazy notion, I know.”
“Oh—not so crazy,” he said with a sigh, tossing a couple of dollar bills on the table while raising his hand to get Tim’s attention and when he had it, he ordered us each another drink by holding up two fingers. I turned just in time to see Tim give him a nod of understanding before Dave continued.
“I’ve lived my entire life in this town,” he said. “And my family tree has shriveled away to where I have no one left—just me and a stray distant cousin or two around who wouldn’t know me if they saw me. But I have my old home place, my community, a lot of good friends. There’s a lot to be said for living someplace where everybody knows your name and has your back and besides—there’s never any guarantee that you’re gonna end up with a Hallmark card or a Walton’s Family Christmas at the end of the day—no matter where you live, but I think that this is as good a place as any to try for it.”
“I think so too,” I agreed excitedly, heartened by his understanding. “And besides I do have one cousin just east of town so I’m not starting out exactly from scratch.”
Tim arrived and switched out our empty glasses and Dave lifted his fresh drink toward mine and we touched our glasses briefly.
“Well, there ya go,” he agreed with a nod as he toasted me with a warm smile. “Here’s to your new home and your new home town.”
***
By the time we walked out the door to head home with nearly six hours and three drinks under our belts, the still night air of early March had turned crisp. As we walked, talking quietly, our breath mingled into a misty white cloud between us, caught in the bright light of a nearly full moon. I paused briefly to pull my jacket on, and Dave had a ready hand, reaching out to assist and guiding my sleeve toward my arm.
“Thank you, kind sir,” I said.
“You are most welcome,” he said gallantly with a slow smile and slight bow as we started off again, strolling along toward our trucks which we’d left parked outside the diner.
“I move into my rental day after tomorrow on Thursday or I guess it would just be tomorrow,” I decided after taking a look at my wristwatch and squinting to make out the time.
“Is it really one a.m.?” I asked. I lifted my wrist toward him and he held it for a moment as he also squinted to make out the dial.
“Yep,” Dave confirmed.
“Anyway,” I continued. “I’ll be able to come to the house and help you some, if you would allow me.”
“Hey, it’s your party. I’d appreciate anything that you want to take on,” he said, and I got the feeling that he was being sincere about that.
In just a couple of minutes, we arrived at our vehicles and he walked me to mine, standing with his hands in his jeans pockets to ward off the chill as I fumbled for the car keys in my purse, found them and pressed the button. The lights flashed as the locks clicked open.
“Well, good night, Dave,” I said. “Or good morning, I should say. I had a great time.”
“Me too. Drive careful, and will you give me a call when you get to the motel to let me know that you’re there and safe?”
I dug into my purse for my phone and waved it toward him.
“Gotcha on speed dial,” I said with a laugh. “Good night.”
I buckled myself in and watched as Dave climbed into his truck, waving at me one last time as he pulled out of the parking lot heading east.
I pulled out onto the highway heading west and turned on the radio to keep me company and to occupy my mind as I was interestingly and inconveniently overwhelmed by a wave of homesickness, or maybe just longing and wistfully thinking about how nice it would be if I had someone who was waiting for me at home tonight. Friday and Derek seemed awfully—awfully far away.
***
Dave Cameron had just gotten inside the front door and was immediately greeted by his German shepherd, Shadow. He leaned down to give him a good scratch behind the ears and then flipped on the lights and with Shadow, living up to his name and right on his heels, he headed into the kitchen to belatedly fill his food bowl.
“Sorry for the late dinner, buddy but here ya go,” he patted his leg , urging him to come and the dog obediently trotted to him but then eyed the food bowl, took a less than enthusiastic sniff of its contents, sat down, and looked up at him.
“What?
That’s all you’re getting, old boy so save the pouting. You’re on a diet, remember? Ten more pounds.”
Shadow looked once more at the dry food and then lay down on the rug and rested his head on his front paws with a heavy sigh.
“Whatever, dude. I’m going to bed.”
When his cell phone rang a moment later, Dave pulled it from his pocket and looked at the lighted display. Surprised, he answered quickly.
“Torie, you can’t be home already—” he began.
“Hey, hey take it easy. Calm down. Where are you?” he asked gently. “Don’t move. I’ll be right there.”
He snapped his phone closed, heading at a jog down the hallway toward his den and returned with his combination over/under, breaking it open to check the chambers out of habit, as he hurried to the family room, reached up above the entertainment center and rooted around until he found the box of ammo. He opened the box of bullets as he placed it on the center island in the kitchen, loaded the gun quickly, and then he was out the door.
Chapter 4
My headlights and flashers further illuminated the moonlit highway but it was an eerie, otherworldly feeling, being the only vehicle for miles around. Whoever the person was who had caused this, was long gone and I couldn’t, could not understand how anyone could just hit an animal and drive off. I had my truck angled in such a way as to protect the deer that struggled helplessly on the pavement before me. It was halfway in the travel portion of the road, halfway on the gravel shoulder and it was lying with its head up, and the front legs appeared to be able to support its weight; but the back legs—god they were completely mangled, and there was a large gash in the hindquarters that was bleeding profusely. The deer kept looking back over its shoulder toward me, unable to do anything but lie there and I was unable to do anything but sit in my car and sob in empathy for the poor creature. I knew that it was best to stay inside my car and wait for Dave because it would only frighten the deer further to see a human and add to its useless struggles to flee. Besides, it was after one o’clock in the morning on a deserted two-lane highway which is not the safest place for a lone woman to be.
I was only about three miles outside of Fremont, and it didn’t take long before I saw headlights coming up the flat stretch of highway behind me. Dave left his truck idling and gently closed his door coming up slowly and soft-footed to my driver’s side. I pushed the button and lowered my window.
“Are you okay?” he asked softly.
“I’m fine,” I assured him.
“Did you hit it?” he whispered, as he looked toward the front of my vehicle, trying to determine if he could detect any damage to my Pathfinder.
“No, I came up on it and there was no one around. They must have driven off,” I said and my voice trembled.
“Hey, are you crying?” he asked gently and touched my shoulder with a comforting squeeze. “I’ll take care of this. Don’t worry.”
I looked at the gun that gleamed in the moonlight, held cradled in the crook of his right arm.
“You’re going to shoot it?” I croaked while wiping the tears from my cheeks with the backs of my hands.
“It’ll be a long wait if we call the sheriff’s office in Oskaloosa to come out. They’re not very quick to this kind of call and it looks like both of his back legs are broken,” he observed sadly. “He’s suffering so let me go handle this and I don’t want you to watch, so will you do me a favor and close your eyes?”
I nodded without hesitation because I have never seen anything die or be killed in my lifetime and didn’t want the memory of it to haunt me now, so as he started to move quietly toward the front of my truck and I watched the deer begin to thrash desperately, trying in vain to escape, I did as he’d asked and I squeezed my eyes tightly shut. It felt like an electric shock ran straight up my spine and the hairs on the back of my neck stood up as I heard the blast of the shot ring out, even with the heels of hands pressed firmly over my ears to drown out the noise.
When I finally got up the courage to open my eyes and look, the deer was lying flat on the road, all its struggles and agony at an end. Dave was illuminated by my headlights as I watched him move it off of the travel portion of the highway by its front legs. He bent down to pick up his gun and then came back to my door.
“Are you going to be okay to drive?” he asked with concern.
I nodded my head. “I think I’ll be fine. Thank you so much for coming to help me, Dave.”
“Not a problem. Listen, I’m gonna follow you to Oskaloosa to be sure that you get home okay.”
“That isn’t necessary, Dave. Really, it isn’t. I’ll be fine.”
“No argument—I’ll be right behind you,” he stated with authority and headed off before I could add anything further.
Without any other choice, I rolled up my window and waited until he was in his truck before starting my engine, turning off my emergency flashers and driving around the deer and back out onto the highway. I glanced into my rearview mirror every so often to find Dave Cameron, my knight in shining armor, gallantly escorting me to my castle home—well, room number nine of the Budget Inn Motel anyway.
As I pulled into the parking lot of the bungalow-style motel and parked directly before my room, Dave came up alongside and parked beside me. He jumped out and hurried over to open my car door for me.
“What a night,” I said lamely, unable to think of anything better to say. I think I was still a bit in shock.
“It wasn’t the best ending I’ll not deny that but up until just a few minutes ago it had been the most enjoyable evening I’ve shared with a woman in a very long time,” he admitted with a quirk of a smile and I noted, a shy duck of his head at this admission.
“Hmmm…” I replied skeptically, not quite believing that it could possibly be true.
“What? I’m serious!” he said and laughed. “Well, I’m gonna get out of here and let you get some sleep. Besides, I have a long day at work coming up in just a few short hours and my boss is a—”
“Hey now—watch it,” I warned jokingly and turned around from unlocking my door to find him grinning broadly at me.
“Thank you, Dave—I really don’t know what I would have done without your help tonight.”
“No problem, boss. Maybe I’ll see you on Thursday after you get settled in. Please feel free to stop by the house if you decide that you want to get your hands dirty.”
“I might just do that. Good night, Dave.”
Chapter 5
Thursday got away from me before I knew it, and I didn’t get a chance to go over to the house to assist Dave. The day started out with a trip into West Des Moines for an appointment at Roslin’s Salon & Day Spa to get my bangs trimmed, have a mani-pedi, and indulge in waxing, including a modified Brazilian because, after all, Derek was spending the weekend. Next was grocery shopping in Oskaloosa to buy the necessities to stock my cupboards, and of course there was the twelve-mile drive to the rental house in Fremont. When I had driven into town I’d found my eyes moving up and down along the shoulder of the highway, scanning for the deer from the other night, but it must have been removed because there was absolutely no trace testifying at to where it had been.
I had left the majority of my personal possessions in a mini-storage unit in Des Moines, which I will have loaded up and brought to Fremont when I am ready to move into Rose’s house. My immediate needs I had been keeping packed in the back end of my SUV and I hadn’t anticipated it taking too long to unload everything into my rental house, but by the time I had unpacked and hung up all of my clothes, made up my bed, arrange my bathroom things, put away my towels and other linens, unpacked all of my kitchen small appliances like my coffeemaker and other utensils—my flat screen TV’s, computers and etcetera, it had been ten o’clock at night before I’d even had a chance to sit down.
I had gratefully sank onto the living room sofa to watch the late local news and unwind, with my hot tired bare feet hiked up on the coffee table before me and my laptop
open in my lap. I had been checking my email and found that I’d received two requests for blog interviews about my books, so I had worked on those and when I had answered all of the questions and had sent them on their way, another hour had passed. Totally exhausted, I had locked up the house, stumbled down the hallway to my bedroom and without preamble had grabbed up a thick ultra-soft throw from the back of a bedside chair where I had earlier placed it and then had fallen face first and fully clothed into my still made up bed, and had been asleep practically before my head had even hit the pillow.
***
Friday morning, I was up early and dressed in a sweatshirt underneath an old hoodie, worn-out blue jeans, and utilitarian sneakers, and with a steaming cup of coffee in hand, I was sitting on Grandma Rose’s front porch when Dave Cameron pulled into the gravel driveway at 8:00 a.m.
He set a stainless-steel cup on the top of his truck while he pulled on a heavy flannel shirt over his dark-blue tee and he grinned at me quizzically as he adjusted his collar and then closed the truck door.
“Hey there, boss, am I late or something?” he asked and reached into the bed of his truck for his tool belt. Resting the well-worn leather over his shoulder, he lifted his cup and made his way toward the house, setting his tool belt on the porch and taking a seat at my side.
“No,” I said with an answering grin. “I’m early. I’m sorry, but I had zero free time to get over here yesterday, so I wanted to be sure to get some assisting in today. Derek will be coming for the weekend and he’ll probably be here about five but I’m all yours until three-ish.”
