by Cindi Myers
“Ah.” Troy nodded. “And you don’t want her to go. But you’re too proud to beg.”
“What good would that do?” he snapped. He picked up a flyer and began folding it, accordion style. “She’s not a small-town kind of girl. She’s never really fit in here.”
“Says who?” Troy’s eyebrows rose. “Seems to me she’s made a pretty good life here—a good job.” He looked around the room. “Everybody says she’s a great teacher. She has friends. The students like her. How is that not fitting in?”
He shrugged. “I guess she just doesn’t feel…comfortable here.”
“Then maybe the problem isn’t the town. Maybe it’s her.”
Dylan glanced at his friend. What did he mean, the problem was Taylor? But before he could ask, Troy was called away to deal with a jammed copier and Sue Hartsell asked Dylan if he’d help her carry a box of information packets out to Troy’s truck.
Three hours later, Dylan couldn’t believe he was standing in the same room. Boxes of neatly sorted envelopes had replaced the random stacks of paper. Trash cans over-flowed with empty pizza boxes, soft drink cans and assorted debris, but most of the tables were empty and a weary group of volunteers stood looking at the night’s work.
“I can’t believe we got it all done,” Patrice said.
“We never would have made it without y’all.” Troy went around the group, handing out Dylan Gets It Done! T-shirts. “Thanks for all your hard work.”
“It was fun.”
“Anytime.”
“Good luck, Dylan.”
As they said their goodbyes and filed out into the night, Dylan stopped Taylor at the door. “Let me take you home,” he said. She started to protest, but he put a finger to her lips. “We need to talk.”
She relaxed in his grip. “All right.”
The car wasn’t the place for the kind of talk they needed, so he retreated to safer topics. “Do you know those kids who came by tonight?” he asked.
“The three toughs?” She nodded. “I know the redhead is Rudy Halberg. The big kid is Craig Derrazo. I don’t know the third.”
“Berk said they were troublemakers.”
“Not downright delinquents. More the type to always be on the bad side of any situation.” She glanced at him. “Why do you think they came by tonight?”
“I wondered if someone put them up to it.”
“Someone who wants to discredit your campaign? But why send the boys?”
He shrugged. “Maybe because they knew I had other kids there tonight. Sending in a trio of underage drunks would look bad, don’t you think?”
“Oh, no!” She turned toward him. “I hope that’s not the case.”
He turned onto her street just as his phone rang. He jerked it from his jacket and answered. “Dylan here.”
“Dyl, it’s Troy. I just got a call from the police. They picked up those three kids who were here earlier.”
His stomach tightened and he let out a sigh. “Before they hurt anyone or themselves, I hope.”
“They’re okay. I’m not so sure about the rest.”
The knot in Dylan’s stomach squeezed tighter. “What’s wrong? You sound worried.”
“Apparently, those boys told the cops that you gave them the beer. That we had a bunch of kids here tonight and free drinks and a wild party.”
“What the hell!” Dylan slammed his hand against the steering wheel.
Taylor jumped and stared at him. He pulled the car to the curb and shifted into park. “The cops didn’t believe them, did they?”
“I don’t know what they thought. All I know is, the shit has hit the fan, buddy. You’d better get down here. Now.”
TAYLOR INSISTED ON GOING with Dylan to the police station. She didn’t know what she could do to help, but one look at the anguish on his face told her he didn’t need to be alone.
“If I find out who did this, so help me, I’ll make sure everyone knows the kind of dirty games he’s playing.”
“But who would want to do this?” she asked.
His knuckles whitened on the steering wheel. “Maybe one of my opponents, though they both seem like decent folks. Or maybe Darrell Spivey. He’s still making waves about my campaign.”
“But why would he do something like this?”
He glanced at her. “Why do people hold grudges? You said yourself, people in this town have long memories.”
She fell silent then, frowning. It was true opinions were slow to change around here, but she’d never imagined that judgmental thinking would haunt Dylan as it had her. He was the town’s Golden Boy. The local man who had made good and come back to give to the community. How could anyone see that as a negative?
The normally quiet Cedar Creek police station resembled a Los Angeles precinct house on Saturday night. Half a dozen patrol cars were parked at the curb, along with the trucks and cars of a dozen citizens, including angry parents, other students, government officials and a trio of reporters from the local and county papers.
“Mr. Gates, what do you say to the accusations that have been made against your campaign?” A reporter thrust a microphone at Dylan as he and Taylor climbed the steps to the station entrance.
“Mr. Gates, is it true you threw a beer and pizza party to thank your campaign volunteers?”
“Mr. Gates! Mr. Gates! Mr. Gates!”
Taylor rushed up the stairs beside Dylan, grateful for the brief respite that met them inside the station. A crowd milled around the front desk, but for the moment at least, no one had seen them enter. Dylan took her arm. His face was pale, his jaw set in a hard line. “Let’s get this over with.”
Troy turned and saw them first. He thrust a piece of paper into Dylan’s hand. “I’ve written a statement for you to give the press.”
Dylan handed the paper back to him without looking at it. “I need to find out what’s going on first.”
Troy glanced back toward the desk and lowered his voice. “It’s like I told you on the phone. The cops stopped the boys for drunk driving. The boys said they’d been at your campaign headquarters, that you gave them the beer and were having a big party.”
“And the cops believed them?”
Troy frowned. “They were wearing your T-shirts. I guess they swiped them from the tables when we weren’t looking. And then one of the officers drove over there and found a bunch of beer cans in the trash we’d set out in the alley.”
Dylan sucked in his breath. “It doesn’t look good, does it?”
Troy patted his shoulder. “You’ve got plenty of witnesses who’ll vouch for what really happened. Of course, it’s still going to stink in the press.”
Dylan glanced around them. “Has Councilman Spivey made an appearance?”
“I haven’t seen him. Why? Do you think he had something to do with this?”
“He’s pretty upset that my father’s book is getting attention again. He accused me of ‘digging up old garbage’ to bolster my campaign. Considering how he hounded my father, I wouldn’t put something like this past him.”
Troy nodded. “I’ll see what I can find out.” He glanced at Taylor. “There’s something else you should know.”
“What’s that?” she asked, uneasiness gripping her.
Troy leaned closer. “Apparently, people are saying you and Dylan came up with this idea of the party together. That you were the one who actually invited the students.”
Anger surged through her in a red wave. She gripped Dylan’s arm and stared at Troy, her throat too tight to speak.
“That’s bullshit!” Dylan snapped. “Taylor had nothing to do with this.”
Troy shrugged. “I’m only warning you what I heard.” He thrust the statement at Dylan again. “Now, get out there and speak to the press before they make something up in order to meet their deadline.”
He headed toward the door. Taylor started to go with him, but Troy pulled her back. “It’ll be better if he goes alone.”
She nodded, resenting the truth in hi
s words. Now wasn’t the time for Dylan to be seen with the known “party girl.” After all, she might be all grown up now and a teacher, but a leopard didn’t really change her spots, did she? And if word had gotten out about some of she and Dylan’s recent adventures… She shuddered to think what the rumor mill would turn out from that.
She settled for standing in the shadows with Troy, watching Dylan deliver his statement to the eager crowd.
“The young people in question showed up tonight at my campaign headquarters, saying they had been invited by a person whose identity they refused to reveal. I did not know these young men before tonight and I had not invited them to attend our gathering. Nor did anyone involved with my campaign invite them.
“The purpose of tonight’s gathering was to put out a mailing for my campaign. We provided pizza and soft drinks for the volunteers. No alcohol was served and I would never condone such action. As soon as we had convinced these boys to leave, I notified the police. My only regret now is that I did not detain them and thus keep them from driving, until the police arrived.”
Refusing all questions, he ducked his head and strode past the reporters, back into the parking lot. Taylor watched him go, hurting for him, hating those who would do this to him. Why were people in this town always eager to think the worst of anyone?
16
BY MONDAY MORNING talk of what came to be known as “the Dylan Gates campaign scandal” had edged out re-hashing of the homecoming game and the latest increase in gas prices as the most popular topic of conversation around breakfast tables and coffeepots. When Taylor walked into the high school, no less than half a dozen people rushed up to get her story on what had happened. “You were there, weren’t you?” Alyson asked, crowding in close and taking Taylor’s arm. “Were those kids really there? Drinking?”
“They came by for a few minutes, but Dylan asked them to leave. They were drunk before they got there.” She pulled away from Alyson’s grasp and pushed past her. “I really don’t want to talk about it anymore.”
“You’ll have to talk about it.” Alyson rushed after her.
Taylor sent a silent plea for help to Mindy, who appeared at the door of the teacher’s lounge. Mindy fell into step alongside her. “It’s going to be a rough day,” Mindy said.
Taylor nodded. A rough day. A rough week. A rough two months until she could clear out of here for good. The best she could hope for now was to do what she could to help Dylan get out of this with his reputation intact.
“Taylor, I’m sorry, but you have to know.” Alyson put her hand on Taylor’s shoulder, stopping her.
Taylor turned to glare at her fellow teacher, but found only concern in Alyson’s eyes. “A memo went out this morning. There’s a school-board meeting called for tonight and you have to be there.”
Taylor frowned. “Why do I have to be there?”
Alyson bit her lip, her gaze shifting away. “They’re going to discuss what happened Saturday night. And the possibility of disciplinary action against you.”
“No!” Mindy put her arm around Taylor and pulled her close. “Taylor had nothing to do with anything that happened Saturday night.”
Alyson shrugged. “You were there. Some of your students were there. And, well, it isn’t exactly a secret that you and Dylan have been seeing each other.” She awkwardly patted Taylor’s arm. “I’m sorry. I really am.”
Taylor watched Alyson go, a sick heaviness in her stomach. Disciplinary action. That could mean anything from a reprimand in her personnel file to dismissal. She was leaving Cedar Creek, but she didn’t want to go out on this note. Would that affect her acceptance to the Oxford program or her future chances to teach elsewhere? Did that even matter now?
“I was there Saturday and no one said anything about me,” Mindy said. “Why should they single you out?”
Taylor shook her head. “You heard her—it’s no ‘secret’ Dylan and I have been seeing each other.” How much did people know about her relationship with Dylan? Did anyone know about the diary entries they’d been “reenacting?” If those things came to light, would they damage Dylan’s reputation beyond repair? Had her attempts to put the past to rest stirred up trouble for the future?
“There’s nothing wrong with a single man and a single woman going out together,” Mindy said.
“Except that I’ve always had a bad reputation in this town. Why should that change now?”
She turned and headed for her classroom. “Taylor, wait!”
But she ignored her friend’s cry. She didn’t want to talk about this anymore, didn’t want to think about it even. She was tired of defending herself and her actions to people who would always judge her as the person they thought she was, instead of trying to find out what she was really like.
In class, Berk, Dale, Patrice and Jessica gathered around her desk. “We heard about the school-board meeting,” Berk said. “We’re going to be there to tell people how it really was. Rudy and the others were out to cause trouble.”
“That’s very…kind of you to offer.” She busied herself sorting papers, struggling to talk around a throat constricted by tears. “But I think you should stay home. Don’t involve yourselves in this.”
“But we can’t sit back and not say anything!” Patrice’s face was pale, her eyes wide with horror. “We have to let them know the truth.”
“I’m sure this is just a formality and that nothing will come of it.” Though she wasn’t sure of any such thing. “Besides, it’s really a moot point what happens, since I’ll be leaving the district in January, anyway.”
Berk stuck out his lower lip and hunched his shoulders. “We wish you wouldn’t go. You’re one of the few really cool teachers in this school.”
She turned away, blinking back tears. “I’m flattered you think so. Now you really need to go to your desks. I believe we have a lesson on American Poetry to discuss.”
Somehow, she made it through that morning of tedious poetry readings and halfhearted discussions of symbolism and metaphor. She ended by giving the students an assignment to write their own poem based on an emotion. She had no doubt she’d be reading her share of odes to anger and frustration in the coming days.
She was trying to decide what to have for lunch when her cell phone rang. It was Dylan. “I just heard about the school-board meeting,” he said. “I’m sorry for dragging you into this mess.” Frustration roughened his voice.
“It wasn’t your fault.” She cradled the phone to her cheek and closed her eyes, remembering his hand against her face there. “I’m the one who should apologize to you. I never should have approached you at the reunion and asked you to play these crazy games with me.”
“It was more than a game to me,” he said, his voice quiet, the words weighted with emotion.
She swallowed hard. “It…it was more than that to me, too,” she whispered. “But now it’s all turned out wrong….”
“What happened Saturday night has nothing to do with you,” he said. “I’ll make sure the school board understands that. We should go to the meeting together. I can pick you up—”
“No!” She straightened, shaking her head. “We can’t show up together. Let’s not give them any more ammunition.”
“What do you mean, ammunition?”
She swallowed, struggling to sound calm when she felt like screaming. “I can tell you exactly what’s going to happen tonight. They’re going to drag out my reputation as the wild party girl. All the rumors about us and the fact that we’re seeing each other now will be rehashed.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Oh, yes, I do. I’ve been here before. Remember?”
He was silent for a moment. She closed her eyes, waiting. Was he thinking of that other time, ten years ago, when they’d turned away from each other? She knew now he’d been trying to protect her then. Would he take her advice this time and protect himself?
“Taylor, whatever happens, I’m on your side this time.” His voice was warm. Full of
certainty and strength.
Fresh tears rose in her eyes and she leaned back against her desk as her knees threatened to buckle. “You don’t have to sacrifice yourself for me, Dylan. After all, I’m going away. This is your home and you have to live here. You’d be better off distancing yourself from me as much as possible. At least you’re one of their own. They’ll forgive you.”
“I think you’ve got it wrong. I think you’ve got more friends in this town than you know.”
She shook her head. “Thanks for trying to cheer me up, but I have to go now.” She clicked off the phone and let it dangle from her hand while she stared at the floor, willing tears not to fall. She had to stay strong. She could get through this. She’d survived before by herself. She could do it again.
TROY INSISTED ON accompanying Dylan to the school-board meeting. “We’re in this together.” He straightened his shoulders and puffed out his chest. “Besides, if it gets rough, you need someone to guard your back.”
“It’s a school-board meeting, not a gang rumble.”
Troy shook his head. “Apparently you’ve forgotten how serious small towns take these things.”
He began to see Troy’s point when they pulled up to the administration building and found the parking lot almost full. Media trucks blocked the fire lanes and dozens of people, both locals and those from out of town, mingled around the entrance. Ignoring several reporters who crowded toward them, the two friends pushed their way through the door into the boardroom.
Dylan looked around at the people who filled every chair and lined the walls. His stomach was in a knot and he was ready to punch the first person who looked at him wrong. He saw Taylor with Mindy on the other side of the room. They were seated at one end of the front row, their heads together. He started to make his way over to them, but Berk stepped out, blocking his path.
“We’re here to tell everybody what really happened the other night.” Berk nodded to the other students gathered around him. “And to let people know what a big help you and Ms. Reed have been to us.”
