Can't Hurry Love

by Melinda Curtis

  “I’ve had no traffic.” Lola had her legs crossed at the knee. She kicked out her foot in rapid succession, like a cat that was annoyed and about to take a swipe at something, claws drawn. “Should you be seen talking to me? Some of my stink might rub off on you.”

  “I might say the same to you.” Mims reached Lola and shoved her hands in her hunting-vest pockets, taking stock of Lola in a different light. She and Lola had something in common—the emptiness of heartache. Mims tried to fill her well with good works. Lola with her window displays, which snubbed the husband who’d hurt her. Mims studied the items for sale closely. “What’s really going on here?”

  “The thrift store canceled picking up Randy’s things.” Lola’s gaze swept her husband’s possessions littering the drive and front lawn. “Marcia Stephens died.” She cast a glance over her shoulder toward the couple in her front window. “And I received a warning from town hall that my front yard is a fire hazard and violating some city code.”

  One of the three things Lola had mentioned threw Mims off—Marcia’s death. What did that sad event have to do with Lola?

  “Let’s do a dump run.” Mims sat down on a footlocker. “I’ve got a truck at home.”

  “Since I’m not selling anything…” Lola frowned at a passing car. “I hope it’s a big truck.”

  “It is.” Mims picked up a stained pink fabric scrapbook at Lola’s feet. “What’s this?”

  “Nothing.”

  Mims opened it, noting Lola’s name in flowery script on the inside cover. She flipped past autographed playbills and magazine photos of wedding dresses and baby nurseries. There was a picture of Lola with a grandmotherly figure. Mims kept flipping, not knowing what she was looking for, until she turned to the last page. “There’s a love letter here from Randy.”

  Lola grunted again. Her leg swung faster.

  “He admits he’s loved more than his share of women,” Mims said, feeling uncomfortable for reading but compelled to do so nonetheless. “He says you’ll be the last woman he loves.”

  “There was a tie,” Lola said gruffly, staring at the street. “Or maybe he wasn’t discerning when he decided to marry me. He had a long-term affair with Marcia Stephens.”

  “No.” Mims nearly tumbled backward off the footlocker.

  “I suspect it pre-dated me.” Lola swept her brown hair into her hands, twisted it, and piled it on top of her head, only to let it fall back down on her shoulders. “I don’t think Randy ever stopped loving Marcia. Or seeing her after we were married. He gave her a pearl ring that was my grandmother’s.” She showed Mims the ring she wore. “Barbara told me Marcia had a man on the side, a man she’d been seeing for years. I’ve been looking for his mistresses but I think he only had one. I think he only loved one.”

  Mims stared at Randy’s note. “Did he write this before you were married?”

  Lola nodded.

  “He wanted to be faithful to you, I think.” Mims returned to a passage he’d written. “Our love is innocent, and I intend to do right by you.”

  “But he didn’t. He didn’t love me.”

  “He loved you.” Mims held the scrapbook out to Lola. “He loved you the same way Charlie loved me while still loving Edith.”

  Lola blinked back tears, her hands in her lap. “I didn’t sign up to share my husband’s heart with anyone.”

  “But the fact is, you did share him. You shared him with a good woman. Marcia was kind. She was reliable. She was my friend.” Mims continued to extend the book to Lola. “And so are you.”

  Lola hesitated before accepting it. “I have very few friends nowadays.”

  “Jealousy and misperception make us lonely beings.”

  Lola crossed her arms over her chest and her scrapbook. “Avery’s protesting today.”

  Lola’s former best friend had been leading a picket line when Mims drove down Main Street.

  “Avery will be all right without you.” Mims’s thoughts turned to her former friend Edith. She’d been more determined than a tick in a border collie’s ear to serve on the board. But maybe that was only because Edith had been working up the courage to confront Mims.

  “But I won’t be all right without Avery.” Lola sat up, looking less teary. “No excuses anymore. I’m going to apologize for the Cupcake War and the necklace. I’m going to ask her to forgive me. And you’re going to convince Edith to do the same.”

  Mims nearly fell off the storage locker again. “Edith and I weren’t as close as Charlie and I, or you and Avery.” Not since grade school.

  “That’s a cop-out.” Lola pressed the pages of her scrapbook tighter together. “Sunshine is a small town. You can’t avoid Edith, which means no matter what your friendship status was before Charlie died, you need to make this right between you.”

  Lola might be impulsive but she knew in her heart what was right.

  And even if Mims was unhappy about it, she knew it too.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Gary shot to his feet the moment Drew came through the door. “Boss, I need to tell you something and ask you about procedure.”

  “Are you going to tell me about arresting Avery for protesting outside her family’s movie theater?” Drew had Becky in tow and expected Jane any minute for a supervised visit but he’d already fielded two phone calls about Gary’s latest arrest. “I hope you had good reason.”

  “Avery didn’t have a demonstration permit.” Gary hitched up his pants. “And that Frank fella held me back when I tried to take her sign, and then Avery disrespected the uniform and pushed me when I tried to cuff him.”

  Drew sighed. Those actions were against the law but Gary was always bringing a sledgehammer to a fence-building party.

  “Uncle Gary.” Becky had been jumping up and down near his desk, where she’d been waiting for a break in the conversation. “Wanna see me sing?”

  “Of course.” Gary sat down and dutifully put a smile on his face but his gaze kept darting to Drew.

  Becky burst into song, an off-key rendition of “Yankee Doodle.” She may have inherited her mother’s love of the limelight but she’d received Granny Susie’s set of pipes. She sang completely off-key and had been doing so often since she’d met Jane.

  One day. It’d taken only one day for Becky to idolize her mother. And how would she feel when Jane disappeared again? Devastated, that’s how.

  Becky finished and struck a pose as if she’d been freeze-framed while marching. “That’s a little song about life on the road!”

  Rosie’s shrill, frightened squeals filled the air, as sharp as fingernails scraping on a chalkboard.

  As Gary applauded, Drew turned toward the door leading to the jail cells. “Quiet down. I think we’ve set off Rosie.” He grabbed the keys and opened the door.

  The pig continued to squeal.

  The three of them ran down the hallway to her cell, past Avery and Frank, calling out to the pig. All that noise didn’t help. Rosie squealed louder. By the time they reached her cell door, she was making a circuit. She crashed into the bars in front of Drew and swayed as if she’d just given herself a concussion.

  “Becky, go get the blanket from the storage closet. It’s by the med kit.” Drew put the key in the lock and exchanged a glance with Gary. “You always sucked as a tackler. Don’t suck today.”

  “You know,” Gary said smugly, “I was going to ask you what to do, seeing as how we’re in violation of Ordinance 102—no livestock in town.”

  “You have crap timing, Gary.” Drew turned the key, opened the door, and leaped forward, arms spread wide, catching Rosie’s neck as if he were a steer wrangler.

  His arms alone weren’t strong enough to wrestle Rosie to the ground. But she did slow.

  “Gary!” Drew glared at his deputy, who stood blocking the doorway with a stunned look on his face.

  Rosie slammed Drew into a wall.

  Gary set his feet as if he were going to start running a competitive mile. His hands moved in circles, trac
king the pig’s path.

  Drew was losing his grip. “Go, you idiot!” When Gary still hesitated, he commanded, “Tackle us!”

  Apparently, Gary held some resentment toward his cousin, because he didn’t hesitate to body-slam Drew. Rosie slowed beneath them but she was still squealing and digging in her hooves.

  “I got the blanket, Daddy.” Becky stood in the doorway.

  Drew held out a hand.

  Rosie lurched forward.

  “Don’t hurt her.” Becky tossed the blanket.

  “Get back.” Boots searching for purchase, Drew shook out the wool blanket with one hand and tried to cover Rosie’s head with it. “We need to sing.”

  “I demand to see a lawyer,” Frank shouted.

  Gary grunted. “My arms are tired.”

  “Don’t you dare let go.” Drew struggled to cover Rosie, imagining he was wrapping the blanket around Gary’s neck.

  “Rock-a-bye, baby.” Becky burst into song, too loud, too off-key.

  Rosie let out a pig scream and lunged toward her just as Gary let go.

  Becky screamed. Rosie squealed. Drew shouted. The bars jangled from the impact of the three of them. Rosie dragged Drew along the side wall. He dug in his heels and tried to hold on to all that girth. A couple more turns and she’d ram Gary, who was trying to comfort Becky, who was sobbing but still standing in the way.

  “Rock-a-bye, baby, on the tree tops.” The deep sultry voice sounded like that of an angel as it echoed through the jail.

  And for the first time in years, Drew didn’t want to stuff his ears with cotton when Jane sang.

  Without missing a note, Jane picked up Becky and carried her to safety.

  Gary shut the jail-cell door and prepared to take another crack at pig tackling.

  Fifteen minutes later, Drew was on the phone with Tom Bodine, making arrangements for Rosie to be picked up.

  “But, Daddy,” Becky said from her seat on top of his desk. She was going to have some bruises on her backside from the bars (like her daddy), and some tall tales to tell her classmates on Monday, but otherwise, she was going to be fine. “Mr. Bodine is going to eat Rosie.”

  “That’s what people do.” Jane sat in a chair in the corner. “People eat pigs and cows and lambs and chickens. You’ve eaten plenty of Rosies in your lifetime.”

  “Becky, can you go check on Gary? He looks scared.” Drew lifted Becky to the floor as carefully as if she were fine china, and closed the door behind her. “You can’t talk to Becky like that.”

  “It’s true.” Jane’s mouth set in a mutinous expression. Her hair looked better today, and her clothing less wrinkled, as if she’d found a place to shower.

  Mental note: ask Emily if she checked up on Jane last night.

  “I don’t care if it’s true.” Drew leaned against his desk and crossed his arms over his chest. “You don’t tell children their pet pig is going to be bacon. She’s still of an age to believe in Santa and fairy tales.”

  Jane’s chin jutted out. “The sooner she learns the harsh realities of life, the better off she’ll be.”

  “Why? Because life was tough on you and your dreams?” He held up a hand when it looked as though she was about to argue. “Look, you did a good thing in there. Thank you, but leave the parenting to me.”

  Jane stood, her green eyes cold. “I’m not leaving anything to you. I’m calling my lawyer and telling him you’ve been reckless with our child.” She opened the door.

  “Jane.” Drew had several things he’d like to toss into the verbal sparring match they were having but none of them would help his cause in the courtroom. And none of them were appropriate for Becky’s prying ears. So he let Jane walk out with the last word.

  “Here.” Gary handed Drew a ticket when he emerged from his office.

  Becky stood on the porch, waving as Jane drove away.

  “What’s this?” Drew looked down at the ticket Gary had given him.

  “It’s my hypothetical question about procedure.” Gary fidgeted, standing with his thumbs in his duty belt. “A citation for violation of Ordinance 102.”

  Anger rumbled through Drew’s veins. “You’re citing me for having Rosie in jail?” He crumpled the ticket.

  “Boss, I wrote myself up too.” Gary rocked from side to side. “It seemed only fair. We both broke the law.”

  What could Drew say to that?

  * * *

  Drawing a deep breath, Lola walked into the sheriff’s office of her own free will.

  That, in itself, was unusual. Unusual enough that Drew stopped reprimanding Gary to stare at her.

  “I’m here to see Avery.” Who’d been arrested for protesting and called Lola. She met Drew’s gaze squarely.

  “See?” Gary demanded. “Or bail out?”

  “Gary…” Drew traipsed over to open the door to the cells for Lola. “Clear up the paperwork. We’re not pressing charges.”

  Lola walked slowly to Avery’s cell, listening to the sound of Gary’s complaints and then paper being shredded.

  Avery hung on to the bars, looking miserable. The man who’d bought her at the date auction sat on the bench, looking oddly happy. Rosie was stretched out on the floor in the next cell.

  “Hey.” Lola came to a stop across from Avery.

  “I didn’t think you’d come.” Avery didn’t quite meet Lola’s gaze. Her normally perfect hair was in disarray. “Thanks for bailing me out.”

  “And me.” The man stood. He was tall and ruggedly handsome. “I’m Frank.”

  “She’s not here for you,” Avery snapped.

  Rosie snorted and sat up.

  “Be very quiet,” Lola said softly. “And use your chipper voice.”

  “I don’t have a chipper voice.” Avery crossed her arms over her chest.

  “Lola, technically, you were my phone call.” Frank had the friendliest smile but it lacked Drew’s howdy-do. “Avery’s mother hung up on her so I let her have my phone call, which means you’re going to bail us both out. I’m good for it, whatever it is. And I’ll cover Avery’s too.”

  “You won’t.” Avery wrapped her arms tighter around her chest.

  “Avery, I’m not offering to marry you and give you my AmEx. I’m offering to help straighten out the fallout from your protest.” Frank didn’t raise his voice or sound impatient. For Lola’s benefit, he added, “I’m buying the block downtown if the town council approves the deal.”

  Avery shook the bars and ground out a frustrating sound that made Rosie’s ears twitch. “I suppose you want to know the details of my big romance with Randy.”

  “No,” Lola said quickly. “Things got out of hand at the bake sale and—”

  “Is that what your tussle was all about?” Frank began to laugh.

  Avery whirled on him. “Don’t you say a word, Frank Dell Quincy, or I’ll—”

  “Stop,” Frank said, reaching for her, but Avery moved away. “There was no romance with Randy. And it was my fault. I made Avery cry at prom, and Randy took advantage of her.”

  “Do you ever shut up?” Avery glared at him.

  “Randy liked to rescue the ladies,” Frank explained.

  Lola wrapped her arms around her waist because Randy had pretty much rescued her too when they’d met on the streets of New York.

  “I’m sorry.” Avery’s chin jutted out. “I suppose you hate me.”

  “No.” Lola moved closer to the bars, closer to her friend. “Why didn’t you tell me all this at the bake sale?” Or anytime in the past two years?

  “Because—”

  “We’re all set.” Drew entered the hallway. Then he opened the jail-cell door. “You’re free to go.”

  Avery darted out of the cell and ran down the hall.

  “I’m sorry,” Lola said but she wasn’t sure Avery heard her.

  Drew looked Lola up and down, and then his gaze drifted to Frank. “You still have it bad for Avery?”

  “Not bad.” Frank looked demoralized for the first time
since Lola had entered the jail. “Worse.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  From the window of the sheriff’s office, Drew watched Lola walk away, a little piece of himself walking away with her. He felt a lot like Frank. Whatever he felt for Lola…It wasn’t bad; it was worse.

  His head hurt. He wasn’t fond of whom he was becoming—a man without patience for his green deputy, a brother unwilling to go the extra mile for his sister’s rescue, a father so scared of losing his daughter that he was considering marrying a woman he barely knew. The week Judge Harper had given him was halfway gone. He had to wrap up his defense and get engaged to Wendy. Maybe then things would go back to normal.

  “You have a lot to learn, Gary.” Drew wasn’t proud of the contempt in his voice.

  “They broke the law.” Gary was nothing if not predictable. His chin went up, and his hands went to his duty belt. If Gary weren’t a cop, he’d be the kind of driver who argued about the accuracy of a radar gun when receiving a speeding ticket. “And we swore to uphold the law.”

  “What if you were arresting Avery and Frank and a heart attack call came in?” Like the one Drew had received recently about Gigi. “Or a report of arson? Or heaven forbid, a suicide attempt?” He captured Gary’s gaze. “Would you still insist upon arresting them when you had a life-threatening call?”

  “That didn’t happen.” Gary’s expression turned mulish.

  “But it could.” Drew continued to press, despite the blood pounding in his temples. “What would you do?”

  “I’d order them to turn themselves in, and then I’d take the call.”

  “Gary, you know the law.” Drew shook his head. He really didn’t want to do this. There was going to be hell to pay. “But you don’t know how to be a lawman.”

  Tom Bodine pulled up outside with a truck outfitted to carry small livestock.

  “They say you can turn lemons into lemonade. I really hope you can, Gary.” Drew heaved a sigh. “You’re fired.”

  * * *

  Mims stood outside Edith’s door as the sun came up on Sunday morning.