by Cassia Leo
Their dangerous romance keeps the locals talking, especially some of the punks who don't appreciate Dane's attitude with Stella. An altercation in a bar turns deadly, and when Dane is arrested, the couple discovers their love runs deeper than their reputations.
Part 1: Collision
1: Water Tower Climb
FALL 1984
Stella should have known not to climb the water tower in plastic shoes.
When her pink jelly slipped off the ladder, she managed to clutch one of the rungs. Her knee banged against the metal as she scrambled to hang on. Hell of a way to go, falling four stories to her death.
Janine screamed below, and that really got Stella’s blood pumping. If she somehow managed not to die, her friend was going to get them both caught.
Stella felt around with her foot and planted the flimsy shoe squarely on one of the bars. She hadn’t planned on scaling the tower in jellies, but the gorgeous fall day had inspired her to take a risk.
“Please don’t yell,” she called down. “Old Lady Springer has been looking for a reason to call the sheriff on me for years.”
From this height, Janine resembled a Rainbow Brite doll in a purple dress with yellow leg warmers. “Why are you so crazy?” she shouted.
Stella twisted around to face out on the ladder, the soft shoes curling around the rung as she grasped the bar and leaned forward. The whole town could have looked up her miniskirt, if it hadn’t been so tight. “Only way to be in a town like this.”
Janine covered her eyes. “Please don’t hang like that.”
“I’ve done this drunk at midnight.”
Her friend peeked between her fingers. “I know.”
The sun blasted off the aluminum roof of the shed at the base of the tower. The morning fog had burned off, and she was late for work. But, walking along the block, Stella couldn’t resist the urge to climb the silver dome. After twenty-two years of living in its shadow, scaling it in the middle of the day was just about the only thing she’d never done. Seemed like something to check off her list before she left for good. Should’ve had Janine bring a camera. Get a shot of her underneath the giant black letters that read “Holly,” the town’s ridiculous name.
Stella whipped back around on the ladder. Just one level to go until she reached the platform that encircled the massive water tank.
“Hey! I’m going to get docked. My boss ain’t like yours.” Janine backed away from the base of the tower, crouching to duck through the section of the chain-link fence that had been cut decades ago by high school seniors seeking to spray-paint the side of the dome. Stella herself had added a blood-red “Seniors ’81” a few years back.
Stella waved down at her and scurried up the last segment of the ladder. She reached the platform and pushed through the narrow opening, grasping the bar that served as an ineffectual rail. As far as she knew, nobody had ever fallen off the darn thing, and she wasn’t going to today. She wouldn’t get caught, either.
Plenty of people had been up there before her. The entire circumference of the tower was defaced with “Mark loves Ellen” and hundreds of other couplings, many crossed out and amended. Stella had warned the boys never to put her name up there. That was a deal breaker, certain to seal the doom of her latest fling.
But one had disobeyed, Carter something-or-other, a Montana boy who moved to Holly when his dad started working at the bank. He was full of himself and his shiny Camaro. He’d been after her, thinking he was doing something romantic by dragging an eight-foot ladder up the tower to inscribe “Carter & Stella” higher than any of the other graffiti.
Stella followed the platform to the other side, facing downtown, where a huge black splotch covered his transgression. Being on the short side, she’d had to drag a TEN-foot ladder up the damn tower to get rid of it. And, after blotting out his mistake, she emptied the rest of the spray can on his little red hotrod. She had a temper, and she knew it. It caused her a world of grief.
He’d known she had done it, but the small town was good at closing ranks to separate the born-and-bred from the newcomers. Carter’s dad didn’t want to make waves in the community, so her lawlessness had been ignored. They hadn’t stayed even a year in Holly.
Standing on the tower in the daytime was a completely different experience from all the nighttime jaunts. Why hadn’t she done it before? She peeked down at Janine’s purple form hurrying along the block, heading to the grocery where she worked as a cashier. Janine stopped suddenly and pointed ahead of her without looking up. Stella followed her arm, puzzled, then saw the sheriff’s car cruising into view.
A trespassing ticket would dip into the fund she’d put together to get the heck out of Holly. She needed that money, and she’d planned this escape for years.
The sheriff’s car coasted along the broken pavement. Stella kept her back to the tower until the squad car passed, glad for the silver lamé shirt to help her blend in. Once he’d turned the corner onto Mulberry, she stepped away from the wall to look out on her soon-to-be ex-town.
The school. The track. The athletic fields she’d never stepped foot on, not once.
Houses filled a few blocks, then the highway snaked through town, the artery lined with what few shops attempted to make a profit. She’d worked at a few, even the convenience store for two weeks, until Old Man Jenkins took to showing up in an overcoat, barelegged in black socks and dress shoes. Her mama made her quit before her purity got stained. Ha.
Stella could just make out the roof of her grandmother’s house, almost smack in the middle of town, a few streets off Main behind the courthouse. It had been empty for eight long months, other than those hours Stella visited, dusting Grandma Angie’s favorite things while Johnny Mathis crooned from the record player. She would call Grandma’s number at the nursing home from the pink rotary phone in the bedroom, although she rarely got an answer.
Even though Stella didn’t like the facility, its smells and long corridors, Grandma was always out and about, painting sunflowers or making leather key chains. So it had to be good for her. No one would really explain to her why Grandma had made the move, especially since Branson was twenty miles away and Stella didn’t have a car.
But Stella knew about the cancer, and sometimes she steamed open a hospital bill before her mother got to it, to see if she could glean any news from the payment information. She could tell that more chemo had been happening, but Grandma was a fighter.
With Grandma Angie gone, Stella didn’t have much keeping her in Holly. Her sister, eight years older, had married off and split at the first opportunity. Her parents were no reason to stay and, in fact, her overbearing and always disapproving mother was every reason to go.
The wind kicked up, and the temperature dropped a notch as clouds passed before the sun. The humidity was going to wilt her carefully sprayed bangs. Stella leaned way over the bar, spotting her shiny purse with its can of Aqua Net inside. She could repair later. Part of working at the perfume shop was your appearance. Beatrice always approved of makeup breaks.
With her belly bent so far over the rail, she could do a somersault, just like on the monkey bars as a kid. And why not? She picked up her feet and rushed forward and down, her necklace hitting her nose, and the world whirled as she spun around the thin bar.
She was a little too tall, so her calves smashed into the sheet metal. She lifted her feet to find the platform, lightheaded. Stella laughed out loud. Janine would have had a fit. The rush of it felt good, so she did it again, this time tucking her knees a little higher.
The metal shifted against her stomach. Panic zipped through her as she realized the rail couldn’t quite hold her weight and had begun to bend. She lost momentum and hung with her head down. The town below was a blur of green and gray.
God, she was going to die after all. Blood rushed to her face, her stomach hot and sick. Her hair brushed the platform, and anytime she moved, the bar bent even more.
Stella hung on, eyes closed, trying to control her fe
ar. She could hear her grandmother, when Stella had gotten stuck in a tree, saying, “Don’t let fear win, Stella. Beat it.”
She kicked her legs to force her body the rest of the way around. The metal had pinched in enough that when she made it full circle, her lower back grazed the platform. She clutched the bent rail, feet dangling, trying to figure out how to wiggle her way backward and up to safety.
Her shoulders screamed with the effort of hanging on. Stella looked down, imagining her body smashing onto the roof of the shed below. Good God, what had she been thinking? She swung her legs from side to side, zinging anew with fear as the metal bar scrunched again, until finally she caught the lip of the platform with her heel.
The flimsy plastic of her pink jelly snapped, and the shoe flipped upward, balanced on the edge of the platform, then fell below. Stella watched its descent as it banged against a leg of the tower and tumbled end over end until it landed in a tree beside the shed.
She grunted and brought her other foot up onto the platform. She ducked beneath the bar and rolled toward the tower, not stopping until she lay against the wall. Her breathing came in great huffs, her lungs sucking in air until she choked.
Stella curled against the metal, feeling each rivet and seam. Death had moved in close, and she’d cheated it. Yet, she still had to get down. She turned her head slightly, but even the glimpse of trees and rooftops set her to shivering.
The drainage mesh in the center of the platform bit into her bare legs and foot. Down below, drum taps and tweets of a flute and whomps of a tuba filtered upward, happy and light. The marching band must have left the school, probably heading toward the practice field just beneath the tower.
A cymbal crashed, startling her. She inched her way to the edge so she could see, forcing herself to accept the height again. The kids were lined up below, the percussion only a few yards from the chain-link fence that cordoned off the base of the tower. She hadn’t factored in their arrival, even though she knew they practiced right after lunch. Now she was good and stuck with no way to call her boss and explain why she was so late. Losing her job, now that would be a crappy addition to her day.
One of the kids climbed a rickety stepladder and shouted at the others. They stood still, poised and perfect, expectant. When the kid clapped and lifted his arms, they raised their instruments in unison. After a four-count, the band bellowed the first bars of a marching song.
Stella laid her cheek against the metal and closed her eyes. Just forget everything. Listen to the music, blow off the job. Something would come along. Life would move forward, one way or another.
*
She awoke to a sprinkle on her cheek. The band was gone, and her watch read 2:00. The sky had gone gray, and the first light raindrops were spilling across the face of the tower. God, she was late. She peered over the edge of the platform, her stomach rumbling. The pink shoe still hung in the tree. A maintenance man squatted by the wheel of a bus. One hour until classes let out. She had to get down before then.
She crawled back to the opening that led to the ladder. Maybe if she didn’t stand up at all, just slid right through to the rungs, she’d be fine. Don’t look down, don’t think about where you are. She’d done this so many times. Maybe dark was better. You couldn’t see where you’d land.
A voice, thin and tinny, came from below. “Stella?”
She couldn’t see who it was from the hole. Stella drew a deep breath and moved nearer the edge, grasping not the thin rail, but one of the supporting legs.
Beatrice, her boss. Good Lord.
“You okay, Stell?” She looked up at her, blond hair tuffed just so, shoulder pads so wide she looked like a linebacker. The black and white checks on her jacket were big enough to be a chessboard even from this height. Stella could almost catch the waft of Chanel No. 19, but probably that was just memory. Beatrice would get wrecked in the rain. Her coiffure didn’t hold up well to the elements.
“I’m fine. Sort of,” she called. At least she wasn’t fired, it seemed.
“Janine stopped by on her break, saw you weren’t there. You need me to call the fire department?”
God. “No! I’m coming!” Stella forced herself to slide back to the hole and stick her legs through. Her bare foot caught the rung, so she eased down to stand on the ladder.
Her pink jelly immediately slipped, and she gripped the platform so hard her bracelet snapped against the metal.
“Careful, honey!”
Stella huffed a few stabilizing breaths, then scraped her heel against the rung, knocking off the shoe. She was better off without it. It thudded below, probably landing on the shed.
She pulled her hand back to grasp the top of the ladder, grimacing at the wet, and inched down another two rungs. The bracelet pulled loose—too loose—and slipped down her arm. No!
The amethyst beads glittered as they moved into the crook of her elbow. The birthstones! Grandma Angie had given Stella the bracelet last May. Stella couldn’t bear to lose it.
The wind bit into the tears at the corners of her eyes as she tightened her arm, trying to keep the bracelet from falling. She let go with her left hand, hoping to catch the beads, barely daring to breathe. The rain came in earnest now, and she wondered what Beatrice was doing below.
Her fingers clutched what bits of the bracelet were still trapped against her body. Others rolled off, hitting the roof like hail.
Her skirt didn’t have any pockets, so she stuck the beads and bits of metal in her mouth. Down, down, down, she knew she had to hurry now. The ladder would get increasingly wet and treacherous. She descended the first tier, trying not to breathe too hard, or she might swallow the beads.
Her foot reached tentatively for the second ladder, a short gap that felt like a mile. Her foot slipped again on the wet bar, and she gripped hard with her toes. She chanced a look down. Beatrice was obscured beneath a Vogue magazine opened over her head.
Stella transferred her weight to the other ladder, feeling her foot slip again. Her tall bangs hung in her eyes now, dripping down her face. If she got down, she swore she’d leave this godforsaken town tomorrow. And grow up. Time to do that.
The storm responded with a flash of lightning. Beatrice screeched down below, and Stella moved quickly now, sure-footed as she descended the second tier. Just one to go.
The last jog was a bigger stretch, but the towering elm tree that held her shoe had protected the metal from the worst of the rain. The beads rolled against Stella’s tongue, and she had to let saliva dribble out the corners of her mouth to keep from swallowing. What a sight she had to be. She could taste hair spray. The blue eye shadow and violet mascara no doubt lent her a freakish appearance.
She reached out with her foot again, transferring to the last ladder.
“You almost got it, hon!” Beatrice called, her voice muffled by the drum of rain on the metal shed roof.
A bead tried to make it down her throat, and she almost gagged. But she tilted her head forward to slide the bits toward her lips, where she could hold them tight.
No distractions. Her feet moved swiftly down, down, down, her hands grasping the rungs with fierce intensity. The last few feet required a jump, but she was barefoot. She looked below at the gravel and weeds, slick with rain.
Beatrice rushed forward, holding out her arms. “I got you, sugar doll. You can let go.”
Stella worried the jolt would cause her to swallow the beads, so she spit them into one hand while hanging by the other, then released the rung. She fell on top of Beatrice, and they tumbled together onto the wet stones. Stella saw a sparkle by her elbow. Another bead! She snatched it up, scrambling along the ground to spot any more.
Beatrice stood with a grunt. “What got into you, girl?”
“I’ve climbed it a hundred times.” Another jewel. Stella snatched it up.
“In the rain?”
“It wasn’t raining when I went up.”
Beatrice brushed gravel from her knees. “I guess we both have to c
lean up before going back to work.” She grimaced at the caked mud. “Maybe we’ll just close up for the day.”
Stella snatched her purse from where she’d hidden it behind a rock, dropping the beads inside. The loss of the bracelet hit her hard now, her nose running madly. “I have to get on the shed.”
She set the purse down again and stumbled across the gravel, looking for a way up. The water came down in sheets.
Beatrice grasped her arm. “What is with you? You nearly died at least twice up there.”
She’d cheated death again. There would be payback, she knew. “My grandmother’s bracelet. It shattered.” She held up her empty arm, scratched and bleeding.
Beatrice squeezed her shoulder. “I know how much it means to you. Maybe we can find the beads tomorrow, when it’s not wet. The rain will wash them off the roof.”
Stella collapsed against the wall of the shed. “I hate this town.”
Beatrice rolled up the soggy Vogue and shoved it in her oversized bag. “Stella, this town’s got nothing to do with you nearly falling off a tower.”
“It’s time for me to go.” Stella pushed away from the shed and grabbed her purse. “I’ve overstayed my welcome.”
“Stella, no. Don’t.” Beatrice followed her, keeping up easily as Stella picked her way across the gravel with tender feet. She grabbed Stella’s arm. “I have to tell you something.”
Stella jerked around. “What now?”
Beatrice pressed her lips together. The rain had totally deflated her bottle-blond hair, now a sticky helmet plastered against her scalp. Stella knew she looked just as bad.
“It’s your grandmother.”
Stella stepped back, wincing on a sharp rock. “What is it?”
“Your mom called. I didn’t let on you weren’t there. I figured you’d show, right up till Janine came in. They’ve moved your grandmother out of the nursing home. She’s back home.”
