by Mary McBride
“Just about everybody and their cousins are coming, Danny,” Raylene had said. “Oh, and I got the cutest paper lanterns to hang up all over the yard. My Lord. Marly’s bringing her chicken salad. Molly likes Chablis, right? Oh, and Herk Stillman, you remember him, is going to bring all his turntables and speakers and what-not to play DJ.”
It wasn’t that Dan wanted to party. His leg was still bothering him more than he let Molly know. But he’d put her through more than her share of hell these past weeks and now he hoped to put her through as much heaven as he and Raylene could come up with.
He knew Molly was worried about the future. The Red Millennium was no threat to her anymore. Her testimony had put the last of them away for life. And it hadn’t taken long for the Marshals Service to find the mole in their ranks who’d rigged the elevator. He’d be on his way to prison soon for a good twenty-five to life. Molly was worried about her future with Dan, Dan, the Wallpaper Man.
She had finally contacted Ethan, her fiancé, to tell him that she wouldn’t be coming back to New York. Good riddance.
They’d spent last night at Bobby and Eileen’s, and every time Bobby alluded to Dan eventually coming off disability and getting back to work, Dan could almost see Molly flinch. She knew he couldn’t do both—continue with the Marshals Service and live happily ever after with her in Moonglow.
But, thanks to Raylene and a few other notable citizens, he’d worked that all out, too.
“It’s awfully quiet,” Molly said, guiding the car along Main, a frown playing over her pretty features. “It’s practically deserted.”
He shrugged. “Must be a football game.”
“Dan, it’s Thursday.”
“Well, then it’s probably bingo night at the VFW Hall.”
She stepped on the brakes. “It isn’t night. Besides, bingo’s on Mondays.” She was surveying the storefronts now, her eyes all slitty and suspicious. “This is very strange.”
“Let’s just go home, huh?”
“Well…”
“It’s been a long ride, Mol.” He put just the right little plaintive twist in his voice. Poor ol’ Dan. He even angled around and reached in the back seat for his cane. “I really need to get out and stretch my leg. It’s been kinda cramping up on me these last couple of miles.”
“You should have said something.” The look she gave him was so sweet, so loving, Dan felt like an absolute heel for all of about ten seconds.
“Well, I’m saying it now, darlin’. Come on. Let’s get home.”
The music was loud even half a block away. The banner—Welcome Home, Molly and Danny—was strung across the front of the house, so huge it nearly hid the little place. Molly’s mouth was hanging open wide enough to catch flies, and her eyes were big and misty as she swung into the driveway, almost hitting Raylene.
“Did you do this?” she asked Dan, pulling on the emergency brake and shutting off the engine.
“I had some help,” he said just as Raylene yanked open Molly’s door.
“My Lord. I thought you’d never get here. Well, come on. Get out. You’re not gonna believe it till you see it. Mildred Booth is two-stepping with old Mr. Cooley. Come on. Come on.”
Dan got out and leaned on his cane. Much as he wanted to watch all the emotions on Molly’s face, he found himself staring at the house.
Raylene came around the front of the car to stand beside him. “Danny, darlin’, you didn’t think all the surprises were gonna be for Molly, did you? Well? How do you like it?”
“My Lord.” He couldn’t help it. The words just came out as he gaped at the fresh yellow paint.
“Judge Larsen sentenced Buddy Jr. to two hundred hours of community service, and I told him I thought it’d be doing the community a great service if somebody came and painted this eyesore.” She glanced over the BMW’s hood. “Well, I’m sorry, Molly, but it was looking a little tacky.”
Molly was crying and laughing.
Dan bent to kiss the top of Raylene’s pink head. “You’re something, friend. Thanks. For everything.”
“My pleasure, Danny. Did you ask her yet?”
He put a finger to his lips and shook his head.
“Ask me what?” Molly said, coming around the car.
Raylene coughed. “Lord. I swear a gnat just flew right down my throat.” She coughed again. “Be right back. I’m going to get something to wash that little critter down.”
“Coward,” Dan muttered to her retreating back.
“Ask me what, Dan?”
He cleared his throat and tried to look like an honest, unflappable man. He even leaned a few more pounds on the cane, going for the sympathy vote. “What would you like to drink, Mol? Beer or wine?”
She blinked. “Oh. Well, wine, I guess.”
“Okay. Follow me.” He grasped her hand and started up the driveway.
It took forty minutes of hugs and good wishes and welcome homes to reach the big galvanized tub in the backyard. Dan stuck his hand into the icy water and pulled out a bottle of Chablis.
“Get a glass over there, will you, Molly?”
She was standing with her arms crossed, looking into every nook and cranny in the backyard. She even looked up into the live oak. “Where’s the Airstream?” she finally asked.
“I sold it.” Dan reached for a plastic glass since she obviously wasn’t going to do it, then he tried to maneuver the bottle, the glass and his damned cane. “Here.” He handed her a wet, brimming glass.
“What do you mean you sold it? To who?”
“Don’t you mean ‘whom,’ Professor?” He reached into the tub again and extracted a beer.
Her baby blues narrowed and her pretty mouth thinned. “I mean who the hell did you sell it to, Dan? I loved that trailer.”
“Gil and Linda Watson.”
Her jaw dropped and those baby blues popped wide open.
“She’d only take him back on the condition he quit his job. I guess she thought that’s what was making him so mean,” he said, twisting the cap off the bottle. “So they’re going on a second honeymoon of sorts. Just drive around the country for the next year or so. Go wherever the wind takes them.” He took a long swig of the cold beer. “Sounds nice, doesn’t it, Molly?”
“I guess. Sure, it sounds great.” The little crease of irritability deepened between her eyes. “It sounds like something we could have done ourselves if we still had the trailer.”
“Well, yeah. I didn’t think about that. Still, with my new job and all, I won’t have all that much vacation coming. Not the first year, anyway.” He tipped the bottle, giving her time to absorb what he’d just said.
“What new job?”
He smiled. “Use your head, Professor.”
It took her two or three seconds longer than he thought it would. Then she burst out laughing. “Oh, my God! You’re the new sheriff.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he drawled. “And if I catch you doing seventy again on the old State road like you did today, I’m gonna nail your gorgeous hide.”
In all her life—no, in all her lives as Kathryn Claiborn and Molly Hansen, she’d never had a more wonderful time. She’d never felt happier or more loved or more at home than she did that night. People began to slowly drift away after dark.
She poured another glass of wine, went looking for Dan, and found him in the backyard, leaning against the live oak where the Airstream had been.
“You look tired, sweetheart.” As soon as she said it, Molly realized he looked more than merely tired. There was a fine sheen of perspiration on his face. His Hawaiian shirt was dark under the arms with sweat. Her heart nearly stopped. “Dan, what’s wrong? Are you in pain?”
He took in a long breath. “No, Molly. I’m nervous.”
“What?”
“Nervous. You know. Jittery. Anxious.”
Her heart rate slowed to normal. “You scared me. Well, what are you nervous, jittery and anxious about, Sheriff?”
“Well, I’m wondering how you’
ll react when I tell you you’re going to have to change your name again.”
Molly stepped back. “Oh, no. Oh, God, Dan. I thought the Red Millennium was gone. Dead. I can’t go through that again. I just can’t.”
“Well, do you think you could go through this?” He took his hand out of his pocket. There was a diamond ring jammed on the end of his little finger. “What do you think, Molly?”
Her heart stopped again. The perfect, pear-shaped stone was glittering in the moonlight that filtered through the live oak. “I…uh…I think it’s gorgeous.”
“Raylene picked it out,” he said.
“It’s…well, it’s beautiful. Very restrained. I mean, for Raylene.”
“Yeah.” He let out a long sigh. “I was pretty relieved, to tell you the truth.” Then he swallowed, audibly. Even so, his voice broke just a little when he said, “I can’t get down on my knees, babe.”
“You don’t have to,” she whispered, putting her arms around him, holding him closer than life. “You don’t even have to ask, Dan. My answer’s always been yes.”
ISBN: 978-1-4592-0502-4
MOONGLOW, TEXAS
Copyright © 2001 by Mary Myers
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