Paradise Park

by Carolina Mac

  “Thank you, sugar.” I reached over and held his hand.

  Rob grinned.

  The burgers came and Rob was silent while he ate. I had no idea how often he ate but he always seemed to be starving. Reminded me of Lonnie, but everything did. No shaking it.

  When the bill came, Rob grabbed it. “You paid for me yesterday.”

  “You just started work. If you don’t have money, I don’t mind.”

  “I have some from the government. They like to pay you when they lock you up.”

  “That’s brutal.” I frowned.

  “Ain’t it?” Rob grinned, slipped his arm around my waist and escorted me out to the bike.

  I turned towards him before he threw his leg over the Harley. I buried my hands in his generous mop of hair and put my lips on his. He was warm and alive. I kissed him for a long time and he kissed me back—with passion, with heat, with wanting. All the things Lonnie used to convey, once upon a time. Rob wrapped his arms around me and pulled me tight to his tall, lean body and he felt good pressing against me. “Thanks for lunch,” I whispered.

  “Fuck, yeah.” He straddled the bike. I threw my leg over and wrapped both arms around him.

  An hour later we zoomed down the side road and through the back gate of the park. It was dusk as Rob parked the Harley in his brother’s driveway. Gary and Sheila were slouched in chairs on the deck and they looked less than sober.

  “You guys drink all fuckin day?” asked Rob with a scowl.

  “What if we did?” asked Gary. He looked up and stared slack-jawed at me holding Rob’s hand. “Holy fuck, what kind of trouble have we got here?”

  “No trouble. Rob took me for a ride on his bike.”

  “Fuck, little bro.” Gary shook his head and looked like he might topple off his chair.

  “Come on. I’ll walk you half way home baby,” said Rob, “just like you wanted.”

  “Thanks. I don’t think I can take any more confrontation today.” Rob retrieved my purse from his saddlebag and handed it to me.

  “Can I have your cell number?” he asked before we started walking.

  “Would you even want it? I’m horrible company right now,” I said with a frown.

  “Yeah, I need it. Tomorrow when I’m at work I can call and cheer you up.”

  I managed a smile. “Okay. Can you text?”

  “Hell, no.”

  Rob walked me around the corner, as far as Sheila’s place and then we parted ways.

  “I had a nice day. Thanks, Rob.”

  “Our second date was even better than the first,” he grinned, winked at me then turned and walked down the hill.

  I locked myself in my trailer, happy that the big rig wasn’t back from wherever. Even seeing Lonnie’s profile as he drove by would be more than I could bear. Rob was a diversion. He wants me but maybe he’ll be disappointed down the road. Another shitstorm in my life. Life turns on a dime. Jerry had said that often enough and I paid no attention to him. Now it had happened to me. I had been happier than I had ever been. Lonnie and Gracie. Rob and Lonnie. Bang. No more Lonnie. Fuck. Let me die.

  My cell rang in my purse and I checked the screen thinking it was Rob trying out my number.

  “Hi Jerry.”

  “Are you okay, Gracie?”

  “Yeah, I’m fine.”

  “You don’t sound fine. You and Lonnie patch things up?”

  I paused. “No, not yet.”

  “He loves you. I know he does.”

  “He wants some space.”

  “He said that? I can’t believe it.”

  “I’m upset, Jerry. Beyond upset and I can’t talk about it until I sort it out in my head.” I sucked in a big breath.

  “Okay. I’m sorry that you’re hurting Gracie. Call me if you need me. I love you.”

  “I love you, Jerry. I’ll talk to you soon.”

  HAROLD DEEGAN CHECKED his watch and waited until ten after eight to allow for stragglers before he called the bi-weekly resident’s meeting to order. Most of the seats were filled despite the August heat and the lack of air conditioning in the old building. Harold was pleased with the turn-out. Standing by his side at the podium were the all-too-regular special guests, Detectives Spangler and McMurtry.

  “Good evening folks. I appreciate you coming out on this warm evening, but we have important items on the agenda. We’re going to start tonight’s meeting with a little update from the OPP. Detective McMurtry why don’t you begin?”

  “Thank you, Mr. Deegan.” McMurtry in his rumpled gray suit stepped to the fore. “As most of you know, human remains were found buried on Edgar Plimpton’s property and the lab has confirmed without a doubt that they are the remains of his wife, Mabel Plimpton.”

  There was a buzzing in the crowd along with a few gasps of astonishment.

  “A warrant has been issued for Mr. Plimpton’s arrest, but as yet he has not been apprehended. He left the area by boat and might possibly be hitchhiking at best guess. When last seen by Mr. Deegan, who was the last person in his company, Edgar Plimpton was wearing blue bib-overalls, a red long-sleeved shirt, a fishing hat and a pair of black rubber boots. The police would appreciate any help you can provide locating this fugitive and bringing him to justice. Thank you all.”

  “Thank you, Detective, said Harold.” He looked at his clipboard, and started to speak “Next up we have…” he stopped short then grabbed onto the podium for support. The clipboard dropped out of his hand and clattered to the floor.

  “Harold, are you all right?” asked Barkley Campbell as he jumped out of his seat and booted it to the front of the hall. As Barkley reached the front, Harold made a groaning sound as his legs gave way and he crumbled into a heap on the floor.

  Detective Spangler wasted no time pressing 911 on her phone and Winona ran to the front to perform CPR. She dropped to her knees, positioned Harold’s head correctly and started without hesitation.

  “One, two, three,” Barkley was counting for her as she maintained the rhythm. The residents left their seats and crowded to the front to get a better look.

  “Back up please, people,” said McMurtry. “Give Mr. Deegan some air.” Detective Spangler took hold of the situation and systematically herded all the residents outside the building.

  Ten minutes later sirens sounded and paramedics burst into the tiny, sweat-drenched hall with their gurney and defibrillator at the ready. They performed medical magic and Harold was breathing again, albeit shallowly, as he was whisked out the door on his way to Ross Memorial Hospital.

  Barkley took it upon himself to announce to the residents lingering near the door of the hall that the meeting was adjourned. He slipped an arm around Winona. “Wonderful job you did keeping Harold alive, darling.”

  “Thank you, Barkley,” said Winona with a smile. “You would’ve done the same.”

  They strolled back to their trailers hand in hand.

  MARG HAD ATTENDED the meeting out of boredom and just to get away from Edgar’s trailer for a while. For the past two nights, she’d been having nightmares about finding the bones in the hole behind the greenhouse. With Edgar on the loose, she had visions of him showing up and using her as a hostage, or out and out killing her as easily as he had killed his poor old wife. Because she had nowhere else to go and no money, the police had allowed her to use the one spare bedroom while the technical crew gathered evidence in the rest of Edgar’s trailer.

  She sat in the back row of the hall and stared at Sheila sitting with Gary three rows ahead of her. She had made a lot of mistakes in her life and they were showing up now in spades. She was living in a murderer’s trailer with no money and no hope for the future. Getting a job or going on the welfare line were her only two choices and she was much too lazy to hold down a job for long. Her last job as a lunch lady at Sheila’s school hadn’t been too strenuous, but she hated the kids and considered herself fortunate to be relieved of that position. If Edgar was galloping off to jail, maybe she could squat in his trailer unti
l his kids kicked her out. Maybe they wouldn’t notice she was there. It was a chance she’d have to take until the time was right to play her ace in the hole.

  GARY AND SHEILA ambled down Maple Street after the meeting was cut short. “Holy shit, did you see the colour of Deegan’s face when they put him on the stretcher. He was fuckin purple,” said Gary with a shake of his head.

  “He might not make it,” Sheila said, “he’s in his eighties.”

  “Is the bastard that old?”

  “Yes, he’s owned this park for many, many years. Long before I moved here.”

  “I seen that you didn’t talk to Marg at the meeting. What’s that about? Thought you were old friends and like that?”

  “We used to be. She did something I didn’t like. Went behind my back and I crossed her off my friend list.”

  “Margie can be like that. She’s all about number one. Does what suits her no matter who gets hurt or pissed off.”

  Sheila squeezed his hand. “Did she hurt you, sweetheart?”

  Gary growled out his answer. “I never let the bitch close enough for that.”

  Rob was on the deck with a cold one when they reached the trailer. “How was the meeting? You guys are back fast.”

  “Mr. Deegan had a heart attack and the meeting was cancelled,” said Sheila.

  “You mean he keeled over right at the fuckin meeting?”

  “Yep,” said Gary, “at the front of the hall.” He reached into the cooler for a beer.

  “No end to the excitement around here.” Rob chuckled.

  Gary took a long pull on his beer and leaned on the railing. “You cause a lot of it, bro. And there’s gonna be more trouble coming your way.”

  Rob shook his head. “Don’t think so. I’m on solid ground now.”

  “What kind of solid ground are we talking?” asked Gary frowning at his brother.

  “New job, steady girlfriend. That kind of solid.”

  “Steady girlfriend? Are you talking about Grace?”

  “Yep. We had our second date today and it went great.”

  “Don’t believe you even had one date, let alone two.”

  “It’s true. She likes me a lot.”

  “I bet. How do you know?”

  “She kissed me in the parking lot of the restaurant.” Rob grinned.

  “Did not. You little liar,” Gary hollered at Rob and gave him a healthy push. Rob’s chair tipped over. Beer spilled down his t-shirt.

  Rob growled like a mad dog as he scrambled up from the floor of the deck, charged his brother and drove him in the face. Gary hit the deck railing with a wallop. The old timber gave way with a loud crack and Gary’s backward momentum sent him and a section of lumber onto the driveway.

  Sheila jumped out of her chair and tore down the steps and around the side of the deck to help him. “You hurt your brother,” she hollered as she tried to help Gary up. Rob didn’t hear her or care. He was in the bathroom with the water running.

  I WALKED BACK to my trailer from the meeting hall feeling drained. Harold Deegan was a good person and so nice. Lately he had been under too much stress with all the happenings in Paradise. No wonder he collapsed. A man of his age should be retired and not trying to cope with the messed-up lives of a hundred people. I hurried to jot down some notes like I always did after one of the meetings. Lots of character details for future books.

  There was no sign of Lonnie on his deck and for that I offered up a little prayer of thanks. It hurt so badly to see him, and know that he didn’t want me in his life any longer. Just thinking about life without Lonnie made my stomach turn cartwheels. I locked myself in the trailer, turned out all the lights and cried in the dark.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  I SLEPT POORLY through the night. Even though the windows were open in the trailer, the air was thick and laden with moisture. Nothing was stirring. A storm was surely in the offing. At five forty-five I heard the Peterbilt engine spring to life and watched through a crack in the front drapes as Lonnie rolled past my trailer in the dark. Why can’t he love me anymore? I still love him. When will the pain stop?

  I made coffee and started work on the outline, putting everything out of my mind except the new project. Nothing was going to interfere today with work. Nothing.

  At noon, I took a break and made a sandwich. I popped the tab on a can of Coke and poured it over ice. The trailer was hot and humid. At some point air conditioning might be an option, but right now after scraping up the down payment, there was no extra money for luxuries. The morning sun had vanished, hidden by thick banks of charcoal clouds. The air hung heavy and combined with the oppressive heat, breathing became a chore.

  Maybe I don’t want to breathe anymore.

  The phone rang and I fumbled in my purse for it. Rob.

  “Hi baby. How are you doing today?”

  “Not so good. Trying to work and keep my mind on it.”

  “Am I bothering you?”

  I smiled. Rob was such a sweet guy. Nothing like my first impression of him. “Definitely not. It’s nice to hear your voice. Are you on lunch?”

  “Yeah, we had a busy morning. Time goes fast when you’re busy.”

  “What are you welding, sugar?”

  “Fuck, baby, when you ask me those welding questions I get all crazy.”

  I giggled. “You make me laugh.”

  “I’m welding a big oil tank.”

  “Cool. I’d like to see you do it.”

  Rob was chuckling. “Your voice is so sexy on the phone. You make me hot.”

  “Guess I better hang up or you’ll have more to deal with than your torch.”

  “Fuck, Gracie, you know it.”

  I could still hear him laughing as I pressed end. He had cheered me a little and I needed all the help I could get.

  All afternoon I concentrated hard on my work and labored diligently. By four-thirty the twenty-page outline was finished and I was ready to write the first draft of the prologue. I couldn’t decide whether to start it and put in another hour on it or wait until morning and start fresh.

  Thunder boomed louder as the storm moved closer and the sky became ominously black. The wind was vicious. Leaves and branches sailed past the windows of the trailer and the aluminum siding rattled. I wondered what the weather was like in Oshawa. Rob had to ride his bike home and it was a long way.

  Does he have rain wear? Why am I worrying about him? He’s a human being, that’s why.

  I texted him. ‘Is it raining there?’

  No response and then the phone rang. “I don’t know how to do it.” He sounded out of breath. I had forgotten that he couldn’t text.

  “Sorry. You said you couldn’t text and I forgot. I’m coming to pick you up. The storm is bad and getting worse.”

  “I’m okay.”

  “No. You won’t be okay. Trees are down and the wind is brutal. Give me the address.”

  “Bloor Street near the Sporting Goods. A-1 Welding.”

  “I’ll be there in half an hour.”

  I pressed end, found my nylon rain jacket, pulled up the hood and ran to my truck. The trip south to Oshawa was particularly brutal on the one fifteen—a highway noted for myriads of accidents and numerous deaths in inclement weather. The pavement was slick on the curves. With gusting winds shaking my truck, I held tight to the steering wheel and kept my eyes glued to the white line. Several cars had pulled off to the shoulder of the road waiting for the torrential rain to let up and for safety sake, I should have been following their example. I slowed down and kept going. As I turned west towards Oshawa, lightning lit up the sky and a huge roll of thunder boomed directly over my head. I jumped and sucked in a breath. I should be home locked in my trailer.

  Traffic crawled along Bloor Street, good in a way—the diminished speed gave me time to look for the welding shop. I spotted the neon sign for the sporting goods store first and realized it almost blocked A-l Welding from view. I wheeled in behind the building and pulled as close as I coul
d to Rob’s bike parked outside. I jumped out of my warm truck into the downpour and opened the tailgate. Rob came running out of the shop with two other guys and they quickly lifted the Harley into the back of the truck.

  “Thanks, guys,” called Rob as they ran back inside out of the rain.

  “Throw that tarp over it,” I hollered, trying to be heard above the noise of the wind.

  “Get in the truck,” Rob yelled as he jumped in the load bed and secured the tarp over the Harley. He hopped over the tailgate, jumped up on the step-side and reefed the passenger door open. “Rough out there. Thanks for coming, baby.” He smiled at me.

  I reached over and pushed his dripping hair out of his face. “Don’t melt on me, sugar.”

  I engaged the four-wheel drive and headed out of the city. Rain pelted down harder now, on an angle, in sheets that coated the windshield. Twice I pulled over and waited until it subsided a little.

  “You were right, baby. I couldn’t ride in this.”

  Traffic crawled up the highway. All vehicles had their lights on even though it was barely supper time. The sky was black when not ripped open by the forked lightning. Saturated clouds hung oppressively low. At Pontypool, I wheeled right and took the cut off. The on-ramp was flooded.

  “This is like driving through a river,” I said, “I’m glad for my big tires.”

  “You’re doing great, girl. Your truck is one amazing machine.”

  “You like it?”

  “Love it. Must have cost you a fortune in upgrades.”

  “Didn’t do it all at once. Had to save up.”

  “Hell, yeah you would.”

  Once we travelled north far enough to cross over the ridges the storm came into its own. Lightning crackled in jagged patterns across the horizon, zapping invisible targets and every couple of minutes, thunder crashed with deafening power overhead. The windshield wipers fought a hard battle, and at times couldn’t keep up with the constant downpour.

  Under the road conditions, I drove as fast as possible and most times it was only thirty or thirty-five max. As we approached the intersection at highway seven there seemed to be congestion. I squinted to see through the rain and the ever-present fog on the windshield. All I could make out were flashing red and blue lights and a lot of vehicles.