Baby, Drive South

by Stephanie Bond

  Porter balanced himself on his crutches, took the magnifying glass and allowed her to hold the piece. “Maybe a W? Hard to tell.” He whistled low as he ran a finger over the heavily embossed silver. “Great piece, though, huh?”

  “It’s a beauty,” Molly agreed. “Hope we can get it back in the hands of the rightful owner.” She looked around. “Speaking of beauty, where did Dr. Salinger get off to?”

  Porter gave a little smile. “She’d had enough of me, I guess—and the town. She wants to go back where she came from as soon as her van is repaired.”

  “Really? Too bad. She seemed like the sensible kind we need around here.”

  “She is,” he admitted. “Although I wouldn’t exactly call her a beauty.”

  Molly shook her head. “Open your eyes, soldier. That girl has the kind of beauty a man would never get tired of.”

  Porter scowled. “Maybe I’m looking for the kind of woman I will get tired of.”

  “I won’t tell your mother you said that,” Molly said with a disapproving expression.

  Contrite, he muttered, “Sorry. My leg is killing me and I’m starving. Little lady doc says I should take my painkillers with food. Can you help me out?”

  “I’m not a short-order cook.”

  “Come on, Colonel.” Porter angled his head. “Be the only woman in town who isn’t causing me grief right now.”

  She worked her mouth back and forth. “I guess I could scramble a few eggs.”

  He grinned. “Atta girl.”

  “Watch it, soldier.”

  Porter straightened and saluted, which garnered him a smile. He glanced out the window and watched Dr. Salinger’s whip-slim figure move toward the boardinghouse slowly, as if she had the world on her shoulders.

  She didn’t know it, Porter thought, but she certainly carried the fate of Sweetness on them.

  Nikki idly sorted through supplies, her mind torturing her with images of Darren and his young stripper fiancée in all kinds of acrobatic positions. She and Darren had never set the sheets on fire, but she’d been satisfied with their sex life, and assumed he was, too.

  That, obviously, had not been the case.

  Fresh tears pricked her eyelids. In the distance she could hear sounds of the women talking and laughing in the kitchen, the chug of washing machines churning. She felt so removed. How did she get here? Her life was a train wreck—fleeing one place, trapped in another. Choosing between the lesser of two evils.

  At the sound of footsteps, she wiped her eyes. When Rachel came into view, Nikki tamped down her irritation. It wasn’t the woman’s fault that her feminine gorgeousness played to the insecurities Nikki was wrestling with.

  “Am I interrupting something?” Rachel asked.

  “No, come in. Do you need more Benadryl?” The women were plagued with bug bites and allergies—her included. Nikki had doled out ointment and antihistamines all morning. It wasn’t exactly the life she’d dreamed of in medical school.

  “No, I’m fine,” Rachel said, scratching idly at her bite-riddled arms. “I just came to get you for the town meeting.”

  “Oh.” Nikki hesitated. “I’m not going.”

  Rachel frowned and crossed her arms. “Why not?”

  Should she tell the woman she wasn’t planning to stay? No. She didn’t want to deal with the questions. No doubt the women had called back to Broadway to talk to family and friends. If one or two people had heard about Darren’s engagement announcement, then most likely everyone knew. They’d think she was pathetic, maybe returning to try to win back her man.

  The truth was much more pathetic—that as many bad memories as she had in Broadway, this little place with its big expectations scared her more.

  “I…I’m busy, that’s all,” Nikki said, but her excuse sounded thin, even to her own ears.

  Rachel frowned. “We need you to be there, Nikki, to ask questions and back us up. We want to make sure this town is ready to provide everything a doctor needs.”

  Nikki conceded the wisdom of Rachel’s argument. Even if she left, the next town physician would have similar needs. It was only fair that she help set the stage for someone else to step in. It was part of the Hippocratic Oath, to be a responsible member of society. She had special obligations to her fellow human beings to safeguard their care.

  Besides, it wasn’t as if she had anything better to do.

  Nikki noted the mood in the dining hall was expectant—and a little suspicious. The women were already starting to miss the creature comforts of home, of having things at their disposal. The weather, the bugs and the seeming lack of compatibility with the single men they’d been promised would welcome them with open arms did not help.

  Marcus Armstrong started the presentation by describing the way he and his brothers remembered Sweetness growing up. Pictures of small-town life were projected on a large white overhead screen. The people looked simple and happy, Americana at its best—high school football games, Fourth of July parades, watermelon-eating contests.

  “But the economy was failing,” Marcus explained. “The town was isolated and our young people were leaving in droves. With a dwindling population, companies weren’t willing to bring technology this far up the mountain and conditions continued to worsen. When the tornado hit ten years ago this summer, it wiped out what was left of our town.”

  Pictures of the devastation flashed onscreen to audible gasps. Nikki’s heart squeezed—very few things in the footage were even recognizable. The town had been reduced to a pile of rubble.

  “The federal government offered disaster recovery funds, but it wasn’t enough. The local government was too bankrupt to rebuild schools. Residents and business owners simply abandoned their property.”

  Nikki’s thoughts flashed to the items in the property room Porter had shown her—no wonder the residents hadn’t been able to find their belongings. And no wonder they had decided to leave.

  “After a few years,” Marcus continued, “the state took ownership of the mountain, and it was left to grow wild. Wildfires that went unchecked only made the area more uninhabitable. Several months ago, my brothers and I were granted a federal grant to reclaim this land and turn it into a green community with a viable tax base. We have two years to meet program minimums, and so far, we’re on track.”

  Kendall Armstrong, whose credentials included a master’s degree in environmental engineering, took over. He presented the overall vision for the town of Sweetness: an economy based on recycling and generating alternative energy. All businesses, schools, municipal buildings and manufacturing plants would be powered by solar energy, and the meadow where the barbecue had taken place would become a windmill farm. To encourage hybrid and electric vehicles, recharging stations would be installed. Computer-generated drawings helped the audience envision what the town might look like.

  “For now,” Kendall added, “we believe diesel is better for the environment than gasoline, so all of our work vehicles are diesel-powered. Both this building and the rooming house were built from reclaimed materials. We’ve installed energy-saving appliances and water systems. In short—we practice what we preach.”

  He handed the presentation over to Porter Armstrong, and Nikki wasn’t surprised to learn he was the marketer of the family. He was, after all, a natural salesman. But she was surprised to discover how articulately the man was able to convey his vision of Sweetness becoming a tourist destination for outdoorsmen, and even its own brand.

  “We want the name of Sweetness to mean something to consumers,” he said. “If we can capture their attention with our recycled products and our trees and streams, then we can educate them, too.”

  Marcus, the businessman of the trio, took the podium again to explain the town of Sweetness would be an incorporated community, with all residents registered and invested in the stock. “We’ll give you room and board for two years and provide all the basics. In return, everyone will contribute in some way, and we’ll all profit as the town grows.”


  Kendall joined him. “This is a chance to help mold the place where you’ll live and raise your families.”

  “Sweetness will be a true cooperative,” Porter chimed in. “But we can’t do this without you.” He looked directly at Nikki, pinning her with those amazing blue eyes. “All of you.”

  She almost expected music to start playing. It was an impressive presentation, no doubt, and the brothers were convincing in their conviction to rebuild the town. But from what she had seen, there was a huge gap in logistics. And from the lack of applause, she had the feeling the other women were thinking the same thing.

  “Where are the police?” a woman shouted. “Are we safe here?”

  “Where’s the internet access?” someone else asked. “Unless you have a smart phone, you’re screwed.”

  “What about cable TV?”

  “How do we get our mail?”

  “Where is the nearest grocery?”

  “The nearest mall?”

  “The nearest pet store?”

  “I had to take a cold shower this morning.”

  “What’s up with this red stuff you call dirt?”

  “Is it always this hot?”

  “Is it always this humid?”

  “Can you do something about the bugs?”

  The women kept firing questions. The men looked as if they were ready to run for cover, until Marcus Armstrong waved his arms and asked for quiet. “Ladies, we don’t have this all figured out yet, but we’re willing to work with you to address the things first that are most important to you.”

  Rachel, who was sitting next to Nikki, stood up. “You’re asking us to take a big leap of faith here.”

  Marcus nodded. “Yes.”

  Rachel turned to Nikki. “I want to know what Dr. Salinger thinks.”

  Nikki was horrified as every eye in the room turned in her direction. Rachel sat and elbowed her, encouraging her to stand. Reluctantly, Nikki pushed to her feet, her mind and heart racing. Porter Armstrong stared at her, imploring her to give them her endorsement.

  She broke out in a sweat, then wet her lips and prayed for coherency. “I’m very impressed with what the Armstrong brothers are trying to do here. But I, too, have considerable concerns about day-to-day needs being met. I’m particularly concerned about the lack of medical facilities and personnel.”

  She averted her gaze from Porter’s intense eye contact. “And I have to be honest—I worry that your collective sentimentality for rebuilding your childhood home is clouding your judgment, obscuring the hundreds, if not thousands, of decisions that have to be made for Sweetness to be a safe, desirable place to live.”

  A murmur of consensus traveled over the room. Heads nodded and women began conferring among themselves.

  “Dr. Salinger,” Porter asked, his deep voice cutting into the room noise, “why did you come here?”

  The room fell quiet again. Nikki’s face heated. So many people in this room thought the reason she’d come here was to escape a cheating fiancé…and she admitted the breakup was the impetus for her decision to leave Broadway. But she wasn’t about to admit that aloud, and especially not to Porter Armstrong. “I came here, like your ad said, looking for a fresh start.”

  He nodded slowly, then hobbled off the podium and made his way on his crutches over to the large double doors. Every eye followed him—and rightly so. He was fairly bursting out of the T-shirt he wore, his jeans hanging loose and low on his waist. When he reached the doors, he used a crutch to push them open wide. Sunshine rolled into the room. Porter leaned into the dancing rays and closed his eyes, inhaling deeply. His broad chest expanded and a look of rapture crossed his face. Then he exhaled noisily and opened his eyes. “It doesn’t get any more fresh than this.”

  Nikki pressed her lips together. The man had a flair for drama…but his effect on the women was undeniable. Eyes were soft, mouths were bowed, and, if she was any indication, darn it, hearts were pounding.

  Rachel stood up again. “The women would like some time to discuss our decision. In private.”

  The brothers exchanged glances, then nodded and headed toward the exit. As Porter was leaving, he locked gazes with Nikki. She looked away.

  When the doors closed, a healthy debate broke out among the women that went on for some time. Nikki was quiet, wishing she hadn’t come to the meeting, uncomfortable with voicing her opinion when she wasn’t planning to stay.

  “I trust Dr. Salinger,” Traci Miles said, then turned to Nikki. “I’ll do whatever you say.”

  “Me, too,” another woman said. “If Dr. Salinger stays, I’ll stay.”

  To her dismay, other women chorused agreement. Rachel angled her head toward Nikki. “Looks like it’s up to you, Doctor. Should we stay…or should we go?”

  14

  “What do you think’s going on in there?” Porter asked his brothers, staring at the dining hall. He sat on a bench with his aching leg propped up. Over an hour had passed since the women had asked them to leave so they could discuss whether or not to make Sweetness their home.

  Kendall was pacing. “I think they’re raking us over the coals.”

  “They made some good points,” Porter felt obligated to say.

  “I know,” Kendall snapped. “We still have a long way to go. But we’ve achieved a lot here, and we’ll really be in the hole if they all decide to just up and leave.”

  “I just wish they’d make up their minds,” Marcus said, looking at his watch. “We’ve already lost most of the workday. With Jennings and Mason getting injured this morning on the mulch line, we’re down a couple of bodies.”

  “If the women leave, we can run the ad again in a different town,” Porter offered, wiping his neck in the oppressive heat. “Maybe somewhere south of the Mason-Dixon Line this time. Is it just me, or are Northern women bossy?”

  “They’re bossy,” Marcus confirmed, then scowled at Kendall. “Whatever possessed you to bring a bunch of Yankees to this mountain, I’ll never know.”

  Kendall stopped pacing. “I got news for you two—the fact that those women are bossy has nothing to do with the fact that they’re Northern and everything to do with the fact that they’re women. I just assumed that women living in a county where the unemployment rate approached twenty percent would be a little less picky about the conditions here.”

  Marcus gave a harsh laugh and lifted his hands. “Look at us. We’re idiots. None of us are married, or have even had a serious girlfriend since high school. We’ve pretty much spent our whole lives avoiding relationships with women. Big surprise that we can’t get into their heads.”

  “I thought we made a good case in there,” Kendall said.

  “We’re not dead in the water yet,” Porter said. “I’ve never had any experience with it, but I’ve heard it takes some women a while to get to ‘yes.’” He grinned to lighten the mood.

  Kendall rolled his eyes. “Yeah, Porter, you’re the man. You have Dr. Salinger so impressed, you had to sabotage the woman’s vehicle to keep her from leaving.”

  Porter was hot and irritated, and the mere mention of the woman’s name made his temper flare. “I seem to remember you not being able to keep a woman from leaving Sweetness a few years back.”

  Kendall blanched, and Porter knew he’d gone too far.

  Before he could apologize, the sound of the doors creaking open caught their attention. The women stood there, with stoic faces. Rachel Hutchins, obviously the group’s spokeswoman, stepped forward. Dr. Salinger hung back, avoiding Porter’s gaze.

  Not a good sign.

  He used the crutches to push to his feet, a knot in his stomach.

  “What have the women decided?” Kendall asked.

  Rachel crossed her arms. “We’re leaving first thing tomorrow morning.”

  Porter’s shoulders fell.

  “To buy supplies the town will pay for,” Rachel added.

  He caught his breath in relief as his mood rebounded.

  She handed Kendall a ye
llow legal pad of paper. A list of items had been written on the page. Porter looked over Kendall’s shoulder to scan the list. Food items, dehumidifiers, gardening supplies, bug zappers, computer equipment.

  “This looks reasonable,” Kendall conceded with a smile.

  Rachel nodded. “There are ten pages.”

  Kendall’s smile froze. “O…kay.”

  “We want a clinic built immediately,” Rachel said. “We want to have a say in what’s on the menu served in the dining hall. And we want titles.”

  “Titles?” Marcus asked.

  “We want roles assigned,” she clarified. “City Planner, Director of Technology, Director of Safety, Director of Communications, that kind of thing. If Sweetness is incorporated, we need the structure of a business.”

  Marcus pursed his mouth. “We’d planned on getting to all of that.”

  Rachel smiled. “We expect it sooner rather than later. Also, we want regular town hall meetings. And we’ve come up with a set of rules.”

  “What kind of rules?” Kendall asked. He was starting to look worried.

  A woman Porter remembered as Traci stepped forward with another list on a legal pad. “No men in the boardinghouse overnight, for example. And we want quiet hours.”

  Marcus frowned. “Quiet hours?”

  No operating machinery, no building activity or anything else that causes loud noises in the evening, early morning and on weekends.”

  “That’s ridiculous,” Marcus sputtered. “We have a town to build!”

  “And no setting other rules without our input,” Rachel continued as if he hadn’t spoken. “We want authority to help decide how the town moves forward.”

  Marcus’s face turned red. Before he could say something Porter was sure the women wouldn’t like, Kendall cut in. “These are all very good suggestions. We do want your feedback and we need your help on every aspect of rebuilding Sweetness. Thank you.”

  Out of the corner of his eye, Porter noticed Dr. Salinger had separated from the group and was trying to slip away. He saw his chance to put her on the spot again. “Dr. Salinger!”

  She stopped and turned back. “Yes?”