Mellow Yellow, Dead Red

by Sylvia Rochester

  Susan pushed back the sheet and climbed out of bed. “Give me one more kiss, then I’m heading for the shower.”

  “Guess I’d better do the same. It wouldn’t do for me to show up at work in the same clothes that I wore yesterday. I’d never hear the end of it.”

  He slipped on his clothes and took her into his arms. “One of these days...well, you know what I want.”

  “We both want the same thing. I just need a little more time. You can see yourself out. Just turn the bottom lock and pull the door.”

  Susan stepped into the shower, still tasting his lips on hers. She loved Wesley more than anything and wanted him in her life, only.... She sighed, disgusted with herself for not being able to make a commitment.

  Poor Wesley, he was discouraged over not finding any leads, and she had comforted him as best she could. She wished she could help him, but she couldn’t. Sooner or later she knew she would experience another vision, but what it would pertain to, she couldn’t say. It might have nothing to do with Wesley’s case. But it had been several months, and she was beginning to wonder if she had lost her gift. That scared her.

  After she dressed, she placed a call to her mother. “Hi, Mom, how are you?”

  “I’m fine. Is something wrong? You don’t usually call me this early.”

  “I’m okay, at least physically, but I want to run something by you.”

  Susan could tell her mother had covered the phone and she waited.

  “It’s Susan,” she said. “Everything’s okay. She just wanted to check on us.” When next she spoke, her mother’s voice was loud and clear. “Sorry, your dad wanted to know who was calling. What’s the problem, dear?”

  “It’s been months since I’ve had...uh, you know, a vision. Did grandma ever have long periods where nothing happened?”

  “Your grandma didn’t talk much about her experiences, but I could tell when something wasn’t right with her. Once she told me she didn’t know what was worse, not seeing anything, or having one vision after another heaped upon her. I doubt your gift has abandoned you. It’ll come when the time is right.”

  “I suppose you’re right, Mom. I so want to help Wesley. He’s having a hard time with his cold case.”

  “Have patience, sweetie. Have you seen Edward and Kara recently? We haven’t heard from them.”

  “No, I haven’t. I imagine they’re still trying to get settled in.”

  “That’s what your dad said. You know Wesley’s crazy about you. And I know you love him. What are you waiting on?”

  “It’s complicated, Mom.”

  “Then uncomplicate it. Your dad and I aren’t getting any younger, and it sure would be nice to have some grandchildren.”

  Susan laughed. “Tell Edward. He’s ahead of the game.”

  “Oh, I’ve been on his case.”

  “I love you, Mom. Give Dad a kiss for me. It’s time for me to leave for work. I won’t wait so long to call you next time.”

  Chapter 3

  Susan and Melanie arrived at the boutique at the same time. While Melanie opened the register up front, Susan went into the office and put on a pot of coffee. Over her first cup, she sat at her desk, daydreaming about her time with Wesley last night. She would love having him around permanently. If only...well, if only she wasn’t so afraid. Wesley was and always would be the man of her dreams, the one she wanted to grow old with. But the possibility that he might kiss her goodbye in the morning, and that would be the last time he would ever hold her, haunted her. She had only to look at Melanie to know that could happen.

  Still, she couldn’t forget how good it felt to lie in his arms, how she had willingly surrendered to his hard and muscular body. His gentle touch and his soulful kisses had left her spent and satiated. It took A. K.’s voice and the click of her heels against the slate tiles as she entered the boutique to chase the thoughts from her mind.

  “Morning, Melanie,” A. K. said as she walked through the store. “Have you decided on a costume for the fun run?”

  “I’m still thinking about it.”

  “Me, too.” A. K. shuffled past the display tables and into the office. One look at Susan and A. K. laughed out loud. “Late night?”

  “Not really.” Susan hoped she sounded nonchalant.

  “Girlfriend, you’re as transparent as glass.” A. K. gave her a friendly shove on the shoulder. “Was it good?”

  “I can never fool you, can I? It was fantastic!”

  They both laughed.

  A. K. dropped a stack of flyers on Susan’s desk. “Okay, time to get serious. How do you like this design?”

  Susan studied the paper. In the center was a cartoon-like drawing of a pumpkin with long, tube-like legs that disappeared into a pair of oversized sneakers. It had Bugs Bunny eyes and a grin that stretched from one side of its face to the other. Drops of sweat flew from the pumpkin’s head, leaving no doubt that the character was in full stride. Palmetto Food Panty Two-Mile Fun Run was printed across the top in big, bold letters. The date, place, time and entry fee was listed in smaller print beneath the heading. Below the pumpkin in bold, multi-colored fonts it read, Costumes Required—Entry fees payable at the Purple Pickle.

  “I like it,” Susan said.

  “Great, now all we have to do is get them distributed.”

  “How did Myrtle react when she heard what you had planned?”

  “Her eyes almost bugged out of her head, and her jaw dropped. I’m not kidding. But before she could say anything, I mentioned what I thought we could raise from the event. She mellowed, and I swear I could see dollar signs in her eyes.”

  “Is she going to attend?”

  “I think so, but she wants to talk with the culinary members and see what they want to do. I suggested they come as a band of angels for taking up such a cause. I kinda think she liked that idea.”

  “I take it she won’t be running.”

  “You got that right.”

  A tap on the glass partition interrupted their conversation.

  Kara leaned into the doorway. “Mind if I join you? I saw your sign by the highway and thought I’d take a look. I could always use a new outfit...what girl couldn’t?”

  “Please, come in,” Susan said. “A. K. and I were just discussing plans for the fundraiser.”

  Kara glanced at the flyers on Susan’s desk. “May I?”

  Susan handed her one.

  “That’s a terrific idea,” she said.

  “I’m afraid all the credit goes to A. K. Can we count on you? You don’t have to run, you can walk, skip, whatever. It really doesn’t matter.”

  “Can I pay the fee and not run? I would like to join the fun and contribute to the cause.”

  “Of course you can,” Susan said.

  “But you have to wear a costume, even to attend,” A. K. added.

  “That’s the best part. I’ll stop by the Purple Pickle later this afternoon and pick out something for Edward and me.”

  A. K scooped up the flyers. “Here’s a few you can hand out to customers,” she said to Susan. “I’ll take the rest and let the girls start distributing them. Good seeing you, Kara.”

  “Would you like some coffee?” Susan asked after A. K. left.

  “No, thanks.” She put the flyer back on the desk. “There’s another reason I stopped by. I assume Wesley told you about our conversation the other morning. I wanted to know how you’d feel about me trying to help him.”

  “What I think doesn’t matter. If that’s what Wesley wants, then so be it. I hope you can help him.”

  “The cards tell me you’re not convinced about my ability to forecast things, and I can understand that. Maybe this will be a way to prove myself to you.”

  “Kara, I want only what’s best for Wesley. Whatever decisions he makes, I’ll stand by him.”

  “Thanks. We’re family now, and I wouldn’t want to cause any problems.” Kara turned and looked out over the store. “Now that that’s behind us, how about showing me what
you have on sale?”

  Later that afternoon, Edward stopped by the boutique.

  “What is this—family visitation week?” Susan asked. “Kara was here earlier today.”

  “Do I have to have a reason to visit my sister?”

  Susan arched her eyebrows.

  “Well, I do have a reason,” he said, “one that’s past due. I want to apologize for running out on the wedding plans. The closer the time came for the ceremony, the more nervous Kara became. She said she would really rather have a more intimate setting, some place where we could make beautiful memories. That’s when she suggested the Bahamas. We barely had time to pack our luggage.”

  “Well, you broke your mother’s heart, not to mention mine. We waited a long time to see you married and then you up and left us hanging. Wesley and I wanted very much to stand for you. And we still don’t know much about Kara. What about her family? Any brothers or sisters? Was there not someone else closer to her aunt that could have seen to her? Seems it would be hard on a young girl to leave her family. Unless...”

  “Unless what?” Edward asked. “You’re always looking for an ulterior motive. There’s nothing there. Give yourself a chance to get to know her. You’ll see she’s a very warm and caring person...the best thing that ever happened to me.”

  “I hope so. I couldn’t bear it if she broke your heart.”

  “That’s not going to happen.”

  The following week Susan and A. K.’s employees canvassed Palmetto and Hammond with the flyers. Ads in the Hammond and Ponchatoula’s newspapers, and announcements on the local radio flooded the area. The response was tremendous. The day of the race, the Purple Pickle shelves were almost empty.

  For once, the weather forecasters had it right. The night of the race, a big harvest moon loomed in the sky. To Susan’s delight, the temperature had dipped to the low seventies, and the turnout was even better than expected. It seemed that most of Palmetto as well as people from the surrounding towns had decided to support the cause. Of course, all the employees of the Purple Pickle and the Bawdy Boutique were present and in costume.

  Vapor lights at the entrance to Palmetto Park and those surrounding the main pavilion provided more than sufficient lighting. Scanning the crowd, she spotted Wesley. He stood near the front gate, overlooking the arrivals. Not the costume type, he chose to wear jeans and a tee shirt. Costume or not, Susan was glad he had agreed to ride herd on the crowd. It wouldn’t do for things to get out of hand.

  Standing next to Wesley was a man decked out as a Native American Indian. Whatever he had used to tint his skin did a magnificent job. He wore moccasins, a loincloth, and plain, leather leggings. The loincloth and the leggings attached to a narrow leather belt. His long, sinewy body demanded attention. Had he shown any more skin, she felt sure Wesley would have taken him into custody. Black braids fell on a hairless chest sculptured to perfection. He held his head erect, revealing high cheek bones, a Romanesque nose, and dark eyes that seemed to bore right through her. He wore no war paint, or feathers, or beads. His only adornment was the painting of an eagle over his heart.

  His presence so captivated her, she couldn’t stop staring. Only when A. K. picked up the microphone and began talking was she able to turn her attention back to the crowd. When A. K. gets a look at him, I’ll probably have to put a leash on her.

  “Okay, everyone, gather around. For those who don’t know me, I’m A. K. Williams, part-owner of the Purple Pickle. I must say, you all outdid yourselves. I’m glad to see Mercury decided to join us.” She pointed in his direction. “Are you really as fast as your winged helmet and feet suggest? Better be careful that I don’t overtake you. And Frankenstein, a word of advice—you might want to lose those clunky shoes.” A. K. licked her finger and held it in the air. “Tarzan, I love your skimpy outfit, but I’m trusting that you’ll keep it in place. We don’t want a sudden breeze to expose the family jewels.”

  Susan stifled a chuckle but wondered why A. K. didn’t include the Indian and his loincloth in her comments. He was about as naked as one could get and still be decent.

  Hoisting an oversized club onto her shoulder, A. K. cleared her throat. “Before we start, I’d like to say a word about my costume.” She did a three-sixty. “It’s a little something that’s been hanging in my closet since the days of the dinosaurs.” The fake fur dress, held in place by one strap over a shoulder, clung to her body like a wet tee shirt. Without hesitation, she pranced back and forth, amid a clamor of hoots and whistles. In response, she shouted into the mike, “Eat your heart out, Wilma Flintstone.”

  “Hey, good looking,” someone called from the back of the crowd, “how’d you like to share my man cave?”

  “Sorry, dawlin’. My heart belongs to Dracula. Why not ask your wife? She’s right behind you, wearing the same outfit and holding the same big club.”

  The crowd erupted.

  “Where is Jack?” Susan asked.

  A. K. covered the mike and whispered, “He was called into surgery. Bummer! I’d like nothing better than to have him nibbling on my neck.” She picked up a starter pistol. “Okay, listen up. It’s almost time to take your marks, but before you do, my business partner and owner of the Bawdy Boutique, has some last minute instructions.” She handed over the mike.

  “Hi, everyone, I’m Susan Griffin. I want to thank all of you for your support, and I want to give a special thanks to Myrtle Thigpen who brought the plight of the food pantry to our attention.” Myrtle, standing with her group of friends, smiled and raised her hand to applause. Susan continued. “Because of your generous donations, the shelves of the food pantry should soon be fully stocked.”

  Susan held out the hem of her blue skirt and white pinafore and gave a little curtsey. “While A. K.’s costume needed no explanation, you might not recognize me. I’m Alice, and from the looks of everyone here, this is definitely Wonderland.” Susan smoothed her long blonde hair which she had tied back with a ribbon and did a turn around to show off the rest of her costume—white stockings and black, patent-leather Mary Janes.

  A man dressed as a mummy staggered forward and gave a wolf whistle. “Alice never looked so good.”

  A. K. pulled the mike back for just a moment. “Careful, buster. She dates a cop.”

  Susan made eye contact with Wesley who seemed to be enjoying the banter.

  “I won’t be running in the race,” Susan said. “I’m going to meet you at the finish line and make sure everyone comes back safely. Remember, you have to run the course twice then follow the sign to the finish line.” The moon topped the trees and flooded the area in light. “We couldn’t have asked for a more perfect night. That bright moon and the recently installed solar lights should make it easy to follow the jogging trail. But as an added precaution, our employees are handing out glow sticks.”

  Susan took the starter pistol from A. K. “Okay, let’s all move to the starting line. Remember to choose a buddy. You don’t have to keep pace with one another, but it’s your responsibility to make sure you both cross the finish line. Otherwise, we’ll have to organize a search party.

  From the back of the crowd, someone with a thick, Cajun accent called out, “We might have to do that, anyway. I’m from down the bayou, and on such a night as this, you’d better keep an eye out for the Rougaroo.”

  A hush fell over the crowd. Then from somewhere came a long mournful howl.

  “Don’t worry,” Susan said. “All the werewolves in Palmetto are friendly.”

  As the runners bunched near the entrance to the jogging trail, Susan spotted Edward and Kara talking to Wesley. They waved and made their way toward her. Kara was dressed as a gypsy and Edward as a wizard.

  “Sorry we’re late,” Edward said. “But I guess that’s okay since we’re not running. Kara came up with an idea to help raise additional money, and we wanted to run it by you.”

  “Yes,” Kara said. “I thought I would offer to read palms for a small donation, all of which would go to the food p
antry. Edward made a poster to hang over the refreshment stand.”

  “That’s a great idea,” A. K. said. “By the way, I love your costume. I dressed as a gypsy at the Purple Pickle’s grand opening, but the crystal ball didn’t work for me. Guess I didn’t have the right mojo.”

  “Mojo has nothing to do with it,” Kara said. “You’re either born with the gift or not.”

  “Then in my case—not.” A. K. laughed.

  Kara turned her gaze to Susan. “By the way, my offer for a free reading still stands.”

  Susan shook her head. “Maybe one of these days.”

  “Well, I’m game,” A. K. said. “I’ll catch you after the race. Right now I have to find my buddy.” She waded into the crowd shouting, “Where are you, Sheila?”

  Susan took her position near the starting line. “Is everyone ready?”

  “Yeah,” they shouted.

  She pointed the pistol skyward and pulled the trigger. The mass of humanity surged down the jogging trail. Light from the green glow sticks stretched out into the semi-darkness, like a gigantic, phosphorescent caterpillar.

  “I don’t know about anyone else, but I could use something to drink,” Susan said.

  Kara and Edward declined, but Wesley, who had joined them, was ready for something cold, too. “My treat.”

  “I’ll go with you,” Susan said. “I need to pick up the medal we had made for the winner. It looks like Olympic gold. Who knows, this might become an annual event.”

  At the concession stand, Wesley handed Susan a bottle of water and took another for himself.

  “How long do you think it’ll take someone to run two miles?” Susan asked.

  “Not long at all. We’d better get over there, if you want to greet the winner.”

  From the woods, raised voices and laughter built to a crescendo as the runners approached the finish line. Two guys running step-for-step led the way. At the last minute, one of them surged ahead.

  “Gotcha,” the winner shouted.

  The other competitor came to a stop. He braced his hands on his knees and gasped for air. “Next time, buddy.”