Out of all 3,934 Paradoxians, whom did she run into right off the bat but the two she least wanted to face. Well, no. Reiner Broderick topped that list, didn’t he? Not going there, though. Slam that door shut, and fast! Dead end!
So, okay, not first on her list of undesirables, but these two came in a close second and third.
Like a nasty mosquito, her mother’s voice buzzed in her head. “Your bed to lie in. Better get used to it.”
Her choices were limited. No way she could run past Twiddle-De and Twiddle-Dum sight unseen. She hadn’t mastered invisibility yet. Besides, they’d spotted her. If she detoured now, she’d come off looking like the chicken she was.
So, Miss America smile cemented in place, sweat running down her back and into her eyes, hair stuck to forehead and cheeks, she homed in on the enemy. Hard to do genteel when you looked and smelled like wet dog, but what the heck.
Cookie Renquist and Jennie Mae Benson stood two houses down at the end of the driveway, wearing shorts and tee shirts. Darling cheerleaders both, back in high school. Drawing nearer, Katie Sara noted that sweet little ol’ Jennie Mae had gone slightly soft around the edges.
Cookie, though, looked as toned and chirpy as ever, blond hair pulled back in the long, swingy, all-American-girl ponytail, her blue eyes twinkling. And at seven in the morning.
“Hey, Katie Sara. Didn’t figure to see you again.” Cookie eyed her, a predator sizing up prey. “Heard you were a professor at some big fancy college.”
Katie Sara grudgingly came to a stop, doing a few knee raises to keep her muscles warm. “Yes, well, things change.”
“Ain’t that the truth.” Jennie Mae elbowed Cookie. “Sometimes people think they’re all high and mighty, and then they find out they’re just like all the rest of us. Gotta put their panties on one leg at a time.”
Katie Sara flinched. A dead fish couldn’t have missed that gibe.
“Jennie Mae’s mama was real happy when you bought the Wedgwood house from her,” Cookie said. “Nice you could afford it…still bein’ single and all.”
Cookie waited a beat. When Katie Sara still said nothing, she threw a sideways smirk at Jennie Mae. “Fact is, two houses in town sold that same week, didn’t they?”
Jennie Mae tucked her thumbs in the back pockets of her two-sizes-too-small shorts and nodded. “Looks like all of Paradox’s chicks are comin’ back to roost.”
Katie Sara’s stomach dropped. She did not have a good feeling about this. Without permission, her lips asked, “Really? Who else is moving back?”
“Can’t say. Professional courtesy.” Cookie snickered. “But it’s somebody with big bucks. Not many fit that bill, if ya know what I mean.”
She winked, and Katie Sara’s stomach plummeted the last three floors into the basement.
“Bought that big new house been sittin’ empty over on the edge of town,” she went on. “Doctor from Memphis built it last year, then changed his mind ’bout transferrin’ his practice here.”
“Well, time to get them kids of ours off to daycare.” Jennie Mae threw Katie Sara a mean smile. “Enjoy your first day back now, ya hear?”
The two past-tense cheerleaders swaggered off into the saggy house, its green paint faded and peeling, the screen door slamming behind them.
For several seconds Katie Sara stood transfixed. From inside, she heard a baby cry, followed by a toddler’s shrill voice and Jennie Mae’s muffled response.
She’d known there’d be confrontations. Known the power of small town gossip. Knew, too, that this morning was only the barest tip of the iceberg. A line from Alexander Pope’s The Rape of the Lock came to her. “At ev’ry word a reputation dies.” Boy, how true!
Death had come swiftly for the McMichaels—but not painlessly.
Squaring her shoulders, she forced herself on. The toe of her running shoe caught where a tree root had cracked the sidewalk. She pitched forward, then quickly rebalanced, wishing she could regain her emotional stability as easily.
Someone with money had bought the house at the edge of town. Couldn’t tell me his name! Professional courtesy, my eye!
Stress tightened her muscles, made her feel like a big old bulldog sat on her chest. Dang thing wore a football jersey—with the name Broderick emblazoned across it.
Without realizing it, her feet carried her to Barnie’s Garage. Barnie was outside, hosing off the pavement. He and her father had at one time been best friends. Gathering her courage, she glanced both ways for non-existent traffic before she jogged across the street.
“Barnie?”
He swiveled toward her, hose low, face bland. Then he blinked, smiled, and whooping, turned off the water. “Katie Sara! By damn, it is true. Rhonda told me on the QT you might be comin’ home.” Then his face sobered. “Heard about your dad, honey. Near broke my heart.”
Her throat clogged at the genuine sympathy, and she swallowed. “That’s why I’m here. Daddy wanted to be buried in Paradox.”
He nodded. “You gonna have a service?”
She faltered. She hadn’t planned any big to-do. Wanted to keep it simple. Quiet. Her father, herself, and a priest.
Barnie laid a hand on her arm. “If you do, let me know. I’d like to be part of it. It’d mean a lot to me.”
Not trusting her voice, she simply nodded.
“You’re a good daughter, Katie Sara.”
Clearing her throat, she changed the subject. “I heard the doctor’s house sold. Any idea who bought it?”
“Lots of speculation, honey. But puttin’ two and two together…” His brows waggled convulsively.
“Oh, God.” Closing her eyes, she dropped her chin onto her chest. Her worst nightmare.
“Hey, you okay?”
“Yeah,” she mumbled. “Bad case of moving sickness catching up with me.”
“Movin’—Oh, you mean motion sickness, don’t ya? Yeah, that can be nasty.”
“You don’t know the half of it.” She gave him a quick hug. “Gotta go.”
“Catch you later?”
“You bet.” It couldn’t be. It simply could not be. Reiner Broderick would not, could not move back to Paradox.
Not now.
Why in the world would he buy a house here? Bury himself in the middle of Podunkville, USA?
He wouldn’t. Had to be somebody else. Somebody else.
The words picked up the cadence of her feet as they slapped the pavement.
A wave of nostalgia swept her as she hit Main Street. The town that time forgot. A little Brigadoon, still doing business the way towns had fifty, sixty years ago.
Mom-and-pop operations passed down from generation to generation still took care of Paradoxians’ needs. No big chain stores. The nearest Wal-Mart was thirty miles, the K-Mart another fifteen beyond that.
Wooden barrels filled with bright flowers perfumed the early morning air, the scents reminiscent of her childhood. The Stars and Stripes flapped in a slight breeze outside the post office.
Many of the old brick buildings dated back to the early 1800s, before the Late Unpleasantness…the War of Northern Aggression. Sturdy. Permanent. Solid.
Home.
But could you go home, she wondered.
Would the good people of Paradox line up behind Cookie and Jennie Mae or behind Barnie? Maybe sit on the fence and give her a chance to prove—or disprove—herself?
Shading her eyes with one hand, she peered in at a mouthwatering display of high-caloric delights in the bakery window. Something whacked her in the back, and she jerked around.
Two older women, vinyl purses draped over their arms, planted themselves on the sidewalk as if defending their ground.
“Ought to watch where you stand so’s a body can get by. ’Bout knocked my purse right out of my hand,” the tall, anorexic-looking one grumbled.
“Ralph McMichaels’ girl,” the equally tall, though rounder one sniffed. “What do you expect?” She shook her head. “Bad seed.”
“Don’t need her kind here,” the f
irst agreed.
Noses in the air, they strutted down the walk.
“Pompous, self-righteous—” How many pounds of flesh did they want? Any magic the early morning may have held was certainly long gone.
“Katie Sara, that you?”
Flustered, she squinted up into the sunlight. “Kip?”
Perched atop a ladder, a round-cheeked Kip Haskell smiled down. “That’s what it said last time I checked my driver’s license.”
When she realized he was checking more than his license, had in fact a view straight down her top, she took a step back.
His grin broadened, and he looped the cord in his hand around the light pole. “Heard you bought the Larson place.”
“Yes, I did.”
“Well, welcome back.”
A quick lump formed in her throat at his off-handed kindness. “Thank you.”
Kip gave the knot a last tug. “Okay, that should do it. Now, to get the other side up. Sure would be easier if there were two of me.” He laughed. “God help the world!”
She smiled. “Oh, I don’t know about that.” Then her eyes narrowed. “What are you hanging?”
“See there?” He pointed down the street. “Already finished on that end. Look good, don’t they?”
She’d been staring eye-level as she ran. Now she tipped her head, ran her gaze along the length of the street.
Red, white, and blue banners.
WELCOME HOME, REINER
Reiner. Senior year’s second hard lesson.
A log truck, undoubtedly headed for the paper mill outside of town, lumbered down the street, shifting gears and belching black smoke.
“What you lookin’ at?” Kip asked.
“That truck. Trying to come up with one good reason I shouldn’t just jump in front of it right now and be done with it.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Chapter Four
Katie Sara slipped into a seat toward the back of the town hall. God, it had been forever since she’d been here. The smell, the squeak of the floorboards, the hard wooden benches all made her feel sixteen again. Still no air-conditioning. Even this late in the day, it was hotter than Hades. Fanning herself with the agenda she’d picked up at the door, she congratulated herself on her choice of a cool cotton dress and sandals.
She recognized every single one of the heat-reddened faces at the board table. No new blood. Junior Polley sat in the chairman’s seat, heir apparent to his father.
The wall clock chimed the three-quarter hour.
Mr. Harvey grunted. “Time to move on to new business.”
“All right, all right. Keep your britches on.” Junior polled the remaining members. “Any other old matters?”
All four shook their heads.
“Okay then.” He shuffled his pile of papers. “Our high school librarian says she needs money for books.”
“How much is Hetta askin’ for?”
Katie Sara smiled. Hetta Finch. She’d been Paradox High School’s librarian forever. If she had anything to say about it, Mrs. Finch would get every penny she asked for and then some. Combat pay for putting up with Mr. Harvey all these years.
Junior squinted over the tops of his lenses, his finger moving down the paper in front of him. “Looks like seventy-two hundred dollars.”
“Seventy-two—outrageous!” Harvey half-rose in his chair. “What in the hell’s she gonna do? Replace every book in the place?”
Mrs. Finch stood up in the front row, her hands folded serenely in front of her. “No need to get vulgar, Mr. Harvey.” Katie Sara noticed that with age the woman’s voice had developed a slight Kate Hepburn tremor.
“Have you,” Mrs. Finch continued, “through any strange twist of fate, bought a book in the last ten years or even, dare I ask, been in a book store?”
Quiet chuckles and smothered laughter rippled through the audience.
Behind Katie Sara, the outside door opened. Someone entered and, as the door snicked closed, took a seat at the end of the row behind her. Goosebumps danced over her skin, and she rubbed her bare arms.
“What’s that got to do with anything?” Harvey barked.
“I believe the point Mrs. Finch is trying to make,” Helen Carson, another board member, inserted, “is that books are expensive. Seventy-two hundred dollars isn’t at all out of line.” She rotated in her chair, looked at the others in turn. “I move we approve it.”
The others nodded—with the exception of Mr. Harvey. “I disagree.”
“So noted,” Polley said. “Mrs. Finch, you have your money, and our students will have their books. Next order of business—a new hire to approve.”
Katie Sara’s palms grew damp. Ridiculous. She didn’t even need to be here. Certainly didn’t need to sweat it. The district offered you a position, a secretary at the admin center typed your name on the boilerplate contract, and the board rubber-stamped it. Period. Tonight was merely a formality.
“Katherine Sara McMichaels to fill the new position at the high school,” Polley read. “She’ll teach P.E., health, and—” He cleared his throat. “The state-mandated Sex-ed class. She’ll start this summer with Sex ed.”
As a low murmur went through the assembled group, she was grateful for her back-row seat. Well, next-to-the-last row. Especially glad she’d arrived late and no one had noticed her.
Mr. Harvey’s blood pressure spiked. “Can’t say as I like this. Do Paradoxians really want someone like her teaching our children?”
Someone like her. Why can’t I just disappear through one of the knotholes in the pine flooring?
Try as she might to tell herself differently, what they thought of her did matter. And she hated that it did.
The chairman looked from Harvey to the others. “If we don’t hire a teacher for this position, we’re in violation of state and federal standards. Katie Sara more than meets all the qualifications. She’s—”
Harvey laughed rudely. “No need to tell us what she is, Junior.” He swung his meaty arm toward the audience. “I think every single person in this room knows about her and her daddy. What caliber person you’d be exposin’ our kids to. Why, she’s—”
Abject shame and humiliation washed over her. Her face flushed; her stomach threatened mutiny.
Twenty-eight years old. A college professor. And she’d been deemed unworthy to teach high school sex education.
Could she possibly sink any lower?
The latecomer behind her stood. “You’re right, Mr. Harvey. Why don’t we take a minute to talk about what she is? Exactly.”
Oh, my God! Oh, my God! Oh, my God! She’d died and been condemned without being given a chance to explain or atone for a single one of her mistakes. No Purgatory for her. She’d plunged directly into the big fires.
Reiner Broderick.
Here. As she struck rock bottom. A contributor to this final insult.
She would not turn. Would not acknowledge him.
Not while he added his two cents to her character assassination. How much would he tell? Had he recognized her? Did he know she was sitting in front of him?
Of course he did. What great fun this must be for the returning hometown hero. A mouse for the cat to torment—just before he slew it.
Close to tears but swearing she’d die before she shed a single one in front of this group, she raised her chin, biting her bottom lip to stop its trembling.
Harvey exploded. “Don’t remember anyone giving you the right—”
“The public always has the right to speak, sir,” Reiner interrupted calmly. “As a homeowner and tax-payer in Paradox—”
An excited ripple traveled through the crowd.
Katie Sara’s heart clutched. So, the rumor mill was right. The banners weren’t just welcoming him for a visit. No. Mr. Football had indeed moved back. Why? And why, in God’s name, had he come now, of all times? She’d never have returned—
“As a tax-payer, I have both the right and the responsibility to speak up at meetings.”
> By now everyone had swiveled in his seat, giving the golden boy his rapt attention. Her false bravado didn’t matter one iota. She’d become invisible. Every eye focused on Reiner.
Everyone nodded, eager to take his side. Wouldn’t have mattered if he’d been proposing the bakery switch to ground dog do-do instead of flour for their cakes and pastries. They’d have backed him whole-heartedly. After all, he was The Man! Mr. Macho! Numero uno!
Gag!
“So,” Reiner said. “Katherine Sara McMichaels. I believe, Mr. Harvey, you were about to list her attributes. Mind if I give it a shot?”
Out of the corner of her eye, Katie Sara saw him hold up a hand, one of those big, beautiful, strong hands… Oh, jeez!
Without waiting for Harvey to answer, Reiner ticked off points on his fingers. “Top student. Should have been valedictorian. She certainly earned it.”
Katie Sara’s heart nearly stopped. What was he doing?
“Oh, yeah. There’s Honor Society, of course. Prom queen. Volunteer down at the hospital. Girl Scout. ’Cordin’ to Mr. Polley, her job qualifications are top of the line. From what I hear, she’s been a professor at some big college down by Savannah. Sounds like we’re pretty damn lucky to be gettin’ her.”
“Humph,” Harvey grumbled. “I think you’re forgettin’, son, that—”
Reiner’s voice, all laid-back, good ol’ boy, Southern-drawl up to now, took on a hard edge. “Let’s just cut to the chase, shall we? Get to what’s really eatin’ at ya. Her daddy embezzled that money from the bank. Not Katie Sara. She’s more than paid for what he did.”
With that, she couldn’t take any more. Weak-kneed and shaky, she slid from her seat and headed blindly for the door, ignoring the sea of voices that swelled around her. Once outside, she stumbled to the bottom of the steps, gasping for air.
Hot tears splashed onto her hands as anger boiled over. With herself, for believing she could come back here. With her daddy, for putting her in this position. With Reiner, for defending her!
The door thumped behind her, and she rushed into the night, frantically trying to remember where she’d parked her car. A warm, strong hand caught her arm, spinning her around.
The sizzle threatened a core meltdown.
Moonlight, motorcycles and bad boys Page 2
