The Forgotten Daughter

by Lauri Robinson

  Scooter started to lead them sideways, which was a slow task.

  “Are we bowing out?” she asked, not sure whether she was pleased or not about that idea.

  “No, but I see Dac. I’ll ask him to move some tables and give us some room on the grass. If either of us leave to do it, we’ll be eliminated.”

  She joined his efforts, elbowing people aside, all the while dancing, until they were at the side of the dance floor. Scooter yelled for Dac Lester, who quickly found a couple of other men to assist him. Drawing her hand over her head, Scooter twirled Josie around, off the dance floor and onto the grass. Other couples followed. Soon the grassy area was as full as the dance floor, but at least there was room to actually dance.

  When a few people started shouting for disqualifications Slim Johnson yelled above the noise of the piano that the grass area was officially part of the dance floor.

  “Goodness, people sure are serious about this contest,” she said when the next dance had them in each other’s arms once again.

  “A hundred bucks means a lot to people,” Scooter said. “Some of the folks here don’t make that much in a month or more.”

  They were so close his chin was just over her shoulder, making his breath tickle her ear. Josie leaned back to look him in the eye. She hadn’t been any more enthusiastic for this dance-off than she’d been the last time, but she’d gone along with her sisters. As usual, she’d do anything to keep the focus away from her. “I understand that. I’m the one who suggested the prize be cash. Norma Rose wanted to give away a bottle of whiskey again.”

  Scooter did have a rather fantastic grin. It was one of those smiles that fed others. “And a snow globe?”

  Josie, although grinning, shook her head. “That is one of Norma Rose’s prized possessions. It was back then, too, she just couldn’t admit it that night.”

  “And now she can?”

  “Yes, Ty won it for her at the amusement park.”

  He nodded and pulled her close to lean over her shoulder. Josie once again scanned the crowd, her thoughts returning to Francine Wilks. Guilt was eating at her, too. There were young girls in that warehouse Francine kept under guard. Girls that needed to be returned to their families. Gloria was sincerely disappointed, and Josie had to admit, she was, too. Uneasy or not, she could have put more effort into sneaking away. Those girls had little hope. Now that she’d participated in the dance-off, no one would be looking for her. Not even Scooter. He’d soon be too busy setting off fireworks to give her a second thought.

  “What are you thinking so hard about now?”

  She leaned back again. “Why do you keep asking that?”

  “Because you keep becoming as stiff as a board,” Scooter said. “And that tells me you’re conjuring something up.”

  Just as her mind was coming up blank, Josie’s gaze landed on Scooter’s sister, Maize. She was standing on the sidelines, watching the dancers with a hint of longing in her face. Certainly not a wallflower, Maize could be dancing with any number of men. She chose not to. Once very lively and outgoing, Maize had been changed by the incident with Galen Reynolds.

  “I’m just wondering,” Josie said, turning her attention back to Scooter, knowing he was awaiting her answer, “why your sister never came to the resort for a job, rather than the Plantation.”

  Scooter shifted slightly as he glanced over his shoulder toward his sister. “I’d say that would be because of your uncle.”

  “Dave?” Josie asked, rather confused.

  “Yes, Dave,” Scooter answered. “He and John were friends.”

  Everyone knew Uncle Dave and John Blackburn had been friends. However, Scooter made it sound as if there was more behind it than she knew. Josie didn’t have the energy to contemplate that notion any more deeply. Not right now. The music had changed to a faster beat, and with her mind elsewhere, her feet became tangled up when Scooter twirled her around.

  Scooter’s hold on her hand tightened, but it was too late—she was going down.

  She landed on the grass, and he came down on top of her. The grassy area turned into a game of dominoes with people toppling over one another. Josie closed her eyes and tucked her head against Scooter’s shoulder, hoping no one would land on them. For a few seconds she heard nothing but grunts and thuds. And music, which never stopped. Slim didn’t so much as miss a beat.

  “I think it’s safe to get up now,” Scooter said a few moments later.

  She lifted her head. Others around them were scrambling to their feet.

  Scooter pushed off her. The absence of his body pressing against hers left behind a tingling sensation from head to toe that she couldn’t call relief. Unwilling to contemplate such things, Josie readily grasped the hands he held out and leaped to her feet.

  Shaking her skirt back into place as soon as her toes touched the ground, she asked, “Dare I admit I’m glad that’s over?”

  “Only if I can, too,” he replied.

  “Deal.”

  He laughed. “Let’s get out of here before we’re knocked down again,” he said, taking her hand to lead her toward the tables.

  Ginger and Brock stood there, among several others.

  “Are you two all right?” Ginger asked.

  Josie nodded.

  “Well, applesauce,” Ginger said, brushing grass off her skirt. “That was one huge mess. I thought I was going to get trampled.”

  Brock wrapped both arms around Ginger and pulled her back against his chest. “I wouldn’t let that happen, doll. You know that.”

  Ginger grinned and looked up at him with sparkling eyes. “Yes, I do.”

  “Looks like your other sisters are still going strong,” Scooter said.

  Josie scanned the crowd and found Twyla and Norma Rose, dancing with their partners, completely oblivious to what had happened on the other side of the dance floor.

  “Need a drink after that, Scooter?” Brock asked.

  Scooter shook his head. “No, thanks, I have to go get the fireworks set up.”

  “Need any help?” Brock asked.

  “Dac’s helping,” Scooter said while wrapping a hand around Josie’s arm. “So is Josie. You and Ginger are welcome to row out in another boat if you want. Could be fun.”

  “Yes, let’s,” Ginger said, looking up at Brock, who nodded.

  “I’m not helping you,” Josie whispered, as Scooter forced her to start walking beside him.

  “Yes, you are.” His lips had barely moved. “I said you’d be glued to my side for the rest of the night, and I meant it.”

  “I have things to do,” Josie hissed.

  “Not anymore,” he insisted.

  Ginger grabbed her other arm. “This is going to be so much fun,” Ginger said. “I’ve never lit fireworks before. Have you?”

  “No,” Josie admitted. “And I’d prefer not to.”

  “Why?” Ginger asked.

  “They scare me.”

  “Liar,” Scooter whispered in her ear. Then, loud enough for everyone to hear, he said, “Don’t worry, you’ll be safe with me. As safe as a baby in her mommy’s arms.”

  “My mother is dead,” Josie said sarcastically.

  Ginger flashed her a frown, but Scooter laughed.

  “Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me,” he said.

  “Ducky, Scooter, how old are you, ten?” she asked.

  “If the shoe fits,” he said, lifting an eyebrow.

  “I’m not the one acting childishly,” she snarled.

  “Aren’t you?”

  “Fine,” she said stubbornly. “I’ll help light your fireworks.”

  “But?”

  “But what?” she asked.

  “You normally add a but to everything you agree to do.”

  “I do not, but I will remember you think I do.”

  He lifted a brow again.

  “I said that on purpose,” she retorted.

  Ginger laughed. “Stop teasing her, Scooter. The two of y
ou are sounding like Twyla and Norma Rose.”

  They’d stopped on the far side of the crowd.

  “Norma Rose and Twyla argued?” Brock asked teasingly.

  “Like a Siamese cat and a bulldog,” Ginger said. “You can guess which is which.”

  They all laughed. Even Josie. Ginger had never minded letting people know what she thought.

  “Where are the fireworks?” Brock asked.

  “Dac and I anchored a raft out in the middle of the lake,” Scooter answered. “We have two boats full of fireworks down by the south cabins.” Gesturing toward the boathouses at the bottom of the slope, he added, “You two may want to take a boat out of one of those houses. I have to get my motorcycle. There are things I need in the saddlebags.”

  Josie recognized the chance for an escape. “I’ll go with—”

  “Me,” Scooter interrupted. “I need your help.”

  “Perfect,” Ginger said, tugging on Brock’s arm. “See you on the water.”

  As the other couple started walking away, Josie said, “You don’t need my help.”

  “No, I don’t,” Scooter said, spinning her to face him with a firm hold on her elbow. “But I’m not letting you out of my sight. Remember?”

  “How could I forget?”

  Dac Lester, a tall, thin man with a permanent grin on his face, caught up with them a few steps later. “We heading out to the raft?”

  “Yes,” Scooter answered. “It’ll be easier to get everything set up while there’s still some daylight.”

  “Sounds good to me,” Dac said. “You joining us, Josie?”

  “Yes, she is,” Scooter answered.

  “Good enough,” Dac said, nodding toward the resort. “My cycle’s on the other side of the parking lot. I’ll meet you at the boathouses.”

  As Dac jogged away, Josie told Scooter, “I have a mouth and could have answered him myself.”

  “I know,” Scooter said. “Trust me, I know.”

  Josie pulled her arm out of his hold and ignored the way he laughed.

  He stayed right at her side, no doubt ready to grab her if she attempted to make a run for it. She might have tried it, too, if there was anywhere for her to run. But that was unlikely tonight. It wouldn’t be worth the effort, either. He’d catch her with these stupid shoes on her feet.

  Eventually, they arrived at his motorcycle parked near the garage. Walter, the man in charge of looking after the family cars, stepped out of the garage as they arrived. He merely tipped his hat toward Scooter and reentered the side door. She wondered what Walter did in there all the time. He was nearly always there, unless he was in her father’s office or walking the grounds.

  Scooter lifted his flat leather hat off the seat and set it on his head. “I’ll get it started before you climb on.”

  She’d always been intrigued by his motorcycle, which was bright red with Indian painted in flourished gold lettering on the fuel tank, but still she insisted, “I’m not riding that. It’s dangerous.”

  “And speeding through downtown Duluth isn’t?”

  She glared, but turned as Dac whizzed past them on his motorbike, waving.

  The start of an engine had her turning back to Scooter.

  He had straddled the seat of his bike. “Climb on behind me,” he shouted above the noise. “But don’t let your leg touch that.” He pointed to a long cylinder. “That’s the muffler. It’ll burn you.”

  “There’s no room,” she pointed out. The leather seat was clearly made for only one person.

  “You can sit on this.” He patted a flat metal platform that rode above the back tire and was attached to the back of his seat. A set of old-fashioned leather saddlebags was strapped onto the platform and hung over both sides. “Jonas does all the time.”

  “You allow a child to ride on this thing?”

  “Jonas loves it,” he said. “Climb on. Even my mother has ridden on it.”

  “Well, I’m not,” she insisted.

  “Yes, you are,” Scooter said, grabbing her arm.

  She could argue. There wasn’t much he could do. However, the idea of climbing on behind him was making her heart skip. She’d often wondered about riding on his motorcycle. Josie played with her options a moment longer, mainly to irritate him, before eventually stepping closer.

  His smile said he’d known she’d give in. “Pull your skirt up and tuck it between your legs so it doesn’t get caught in the tires or burned by the muffler.”

  “I told you this was dangerous,” she said, unable to think of anything else.

  “But you want to ride it,” he said, grinning. “I know you do.”

  Josie wouldn’t admit that if her life depended on it. Which it almost did. He could still tell her father about her activities at the docks anytime. Life certainly would be much easier if she was more like her sisters—in love with fashion or money or men.

  Gritting her teeth, Josie hitched up her skirt and swung one leg over the seat behind Scooter.

  “Put your feet on top of mine,” he said, “to keep them out of the way.”

  Closing her eyes against the shocking sensations zipping up her thighs, Josie did as she was told, tucked her skirt under her legs and held her breath. This was outrageous.

  “Hold on,” Scooter said over his shoulder, still shouting above the noise.

  “To what?” she shouted in return.

  He grabbed one of her arms and pulled it around his waist. “To me.”

  The cycle shot forward. With a squeal, Josie grabbed his waist with her other hand, as well. She slid closer to his back, too, despite the way her inner thighs stung from the contact.

  After the initial shock of the tires moving, and of riding on two wheels, she settled in, let out the air she’d been holding in her lungs and realized she was smiling. It was fun. The wind in her hair. The way Scooter leaned slightly left or right while maneuvering the curves along the road leading past the cabins toward the lake. It was all exciting in a daring sort of way. She wasn’t surprised, either. For as long as she could remember, she got a thrill out of things her sisters always found a bit frightening. Of course, back then, it had been frogs and snakes or salamanders and mice. It was what had made her become involved with Gloria’s crusade.

  She’d also always secretly coveted Scooter’s motorcycle. Slipping in and out of the dock area in Duluth would be so much easier than in a car. There wouldn’t be any place to store her goods, though, and that would be a problem. She also needed a backseat for someone to hide in. She’d considered that issue when Twyla had been trying to persuade their father to buy a convertible. Thankfully, convincing him how dangerous a car with no top could be had been a simple feat.

  The motorcycle slowed and Scooter placed his feet on the ground as it came to a stop. “Careful of the muffler,” he reminded her as the engine went silent.

  Josie had been in the process of dropping her feet to the ground, and she stopped. Holding her legs out to the sides, she asked, “How am I supposed to get off, then?”

  He chuckled. “You don’t have to be that careful, just mindful,” he said. “The muffler is tucked under the frame, but it still gets hot.” He leaned to the left, angling the motorcycle slightly. “There, step off.”

  Josie slid off with almost no problems, other than her ugly pea-green skirt getting caught on the saddlebag. She managed to get it loose without doing damage to the material, which would not have broken her heart. Stepping back, she waited while Scooter kicked down a metal stance bar and pushed the cycle backward to balance upright on the stand.

  “Is it heavy?” Josie asked.

  “Is what heavy?” Scooter asked, climbing off.

  “Your motorcycle,” she said as he spun around to search in the saddlebag. “Is it heavy? Hard to lift onto its stand?”

  * * *

  “No,” Scooter answered, seconds before an eerie sensation tickled his spine. Turning slowly, he spied the thoughtful expression covering Josie’s face. Sometimes her thoughts wer
e as easy to read as a billboard. “For me,” he clarified. “For you, it would be way too heavy.”

  “I’m stronger than I look.”

  He pulled out the rest of the fuses and punks he’d assembled to light the crates of Roman candles, sky rockets, mortars and flying torpedoes Josie had requested that he order for the evening’s enjoyment and shoved them in his back pocket. At first he’d questioned the amount of money she’d given him to place the order, but upon learning about the rest of the day’s events, he’d spent every dime. Nightingale would want the night to end with a bang, and it was his job to make sure it would.

  Right now, though, it was his job to get whatever idea Josie had brewing out of her pretty little head. He took her by the arm and steered her toward the boathouse down the hill. “You could never handle a motorcycle, so quit thinking you could.”

  Her attempt to wrench her arm out of his hold failed.

  “You have no idea what I can and can’t handle,” she said.

  “Oh, yes, I do.” He marched her down the hill and onto the dock. There he handed over the things from his pocket so they’d be kept dry. “Hold these and wait here.”

  “What are these?” she asked, taking the items.

  “Fuses and punks to light the fireworks,” he said, stepping off the dock toward the boathouse built into the sloping hill. “Don’t let them get wet.”

  Each cabin had its own dock and boathouse, which were small sheds built of rocks and thick logs to store the boats and other items guests might find enjoyable to use. Lawn chairs and such. The cabins were old, having been constructed years before, when the resort had originally been built, but they’d been refurbished, or at least some had. Others were still being worked on. The two where he’d chosen to store the fireworks had just recently been fixed up. He’d chosen them for the new locks on the sturdy doors. He’d known kids would be all over the resort today and he hadn’t wanted a couple of sneaky young ones to play with things they shouldn’t.

  Dac was already in the second house when Scooter unlocked the door and entered the other dimly lit shed. He quickly checked the boat, making sure the barrels and crates hadn’t been disturbed before he stepped around the boat to unlatch the heavy double doors facing the lake.