by Hope Ramsay
“We won’t do any such thing. Football is rough. Have you read the recent stuff about—”
“Honey, your boy is tougher than you think. And Davis High needs his talent.”
“He’s only twelve.” She looked over her shoulder as if she were checking to make sure no one had followed her from the Baptist church.
“What is it? Are the grannies following you?”
“I don’t think so. But Bill might be.”
“Oh.”
She let go of a long breath. “Bill wants to marry me.”
Dash’s stomach double-clutched. He didn’t know why he was so surprised; after all, he’d been bracing himself for this news for a couple of weeks now. “When did this happen?” he asked, proud of himself for keeping his emotion from sounding in his voice.
“Just now. He proposed in front of everyone in the spectators’ tent. I told him no, of course. But he didn’t exactly listen, and the church ladies were egging him on. You know, Dash, sometimes Bill can be awfully dense. Not to mention boring as sin.”
“Honey, sin is not boring. Take it from me.” Something heavy lifted from around Dash’s heart. She’d told Bill no? In front of everyone in town?
Dash stopped walking and turned toward her, just as she turned toward him. And for an instant, he got the same rush that occurred every morning when they bumped into one another or when they sat at the kitchen table drinking the day’s first cup of coffee. They didn’t even have to say anything; the current of connection was right there, vibrating like a deep bass string, low and hardly loud enough to hear.
“I can help you out with your Bill problem,” he found himself saying.
“You can?” Her voice was soft, almost a murmur.
“Yes, ma’am. You could come to the street dance with me tonight. I think, if we danced all night, everyone would get the message that you’re not all that interested in Bill.”
She stared at him, her lips parted, her sun-kissed cheeks turned a little pinker, and her eyes closed. She took the deepest breath and blew it out. “I can’t do that.”
“Why not?”
She opened her eyes. “Because dancing is dangerous.”
He grinned. “You think?”
“I know dancing is dangerous,” she said. “I met Greg at a Delta Chi dance. He swept me off my feet. And three years later, when I realized the mistake I’d made, I swore on a stack of Bibles that I was never, ever going to another dance again.”
“Wow. That bad, huh?”
“You have no idea. And unfortunately, I didn’t heed my own good advice. I’ve had two more serious relationships with guys who were jocks. And I met them both at dances. They both turned into a-holes within eighteen months. A girl can take only so much. So I have given up dancing… again.”
“Well, that’s a shame, because everyone goes to the Easter street dance. It’s a barrel of wholesome family fun.”
“Family fun?” she said.
“Yeah, Savannah, it’s a community thing. I doubt that it’s anything like a fraternity dance. Like, for instance, the booze will be limited, and we don’t have a whole lot of frat boys in Last Chance. In fact, I don’t think we have any. Good ol’ boys, sure, but no frat boys.”
“My weakness isn’t frat boys. It’s jocks.”
His gut dropped like he’d just hit the first dip on a monster roller coaster. She had a weakness for jocks. And he had a weakness for royal blondes.
He should fight that but he was weak and tired. He wanted to give in.
So he gave her a smile. “Well, honey, it’s up to you. But if you want to get rid of Bill, you’ll need to go to the dance and make sure to dance with every eligible man in sight, except him.”
“You think that would solve my Bill problem?”
“It might. Of course, if you danced every dance with me and then were seen riding off to the Peach Blossom Motor Court in my Caddy, that would probably do it too.” The words escaped his mouth before he’d fully thought them through. Taking her to the Peach Blossom was a deep fantasy that he’d played out in his head a few times late at night. But it would be crazy to do something like that; the fallout would be toxic.
“C’mon, Dash, I can’t do something like that. It would ruin my reputation.”
“Aw, that breaks my heart, princess.” He made a big show of putting his hand over his heart, but in truth, he was glad she had put an end to this fantasy talk about the no-tell motel. There was a real possibility that Savannah could break his heart if he let himself fall for her.
She laughed. “C’mon, Dash, I’m not ever going to break your heart. We hate one another.”
“Do we?” His question was more earnest than he meant it to be.
“I’m sure we hate one another,” she said, but she didn’t sound very convincing.
The dog came into Zeph’s arms. He’d been waiting on it down in the playground by the elementary school. The poor thing was confused.
“Hey there, boy, you got yourself into a heap of trouble today.” He gave the pup a scratch behind the ears. Its hind end wagged.
“You don’t belong to me no more. You know that, don’t you?”
The dog smiled and wagged.
Zeph waited, sitting on a bench by the school yard. He saw the boy heading this direction. Todd was walking, head down, a picture of misery with a bloody nose and a swollen eye. The boy reminded him of Gabe when he was a little boy.
That was unsettling and painful, especially since the ghost behind him didn’t like it whenever Zeph remembered Gabe. So Zeph tried hard to forget that boy. Of course, Zeph didn’t know how to forget. Zeph didn’t know much of nothing. Except how to work wood, and catch fish, and care for the strays that came the ghost’s way.
The boy continued to walk toward Zeph in that slump-shouldered way that boys sometimes get when the world makes them weary.
“Hey, Todd, over here,” he hollered.
The boy stopped and looked up. His face changed. He came running up to the bench and fell to his knees. He wrapped his arms around the dog in a big, old hug. “I’m sorry,” he said over and over again. “I’ll never yell at you again.”
The dog licked his face and tried to clean his nose.
The boy rested his banged-up face on the dog’s neck. “It wasn’t your fault.”
And then he started bawling, and Zeph let him cry. Sometimes that was just the best thing a body could do. The ghost was peaceful. The ghost knew all about crying.
When the boy was ready, Zeph gave him a smile. “Son, this dog is your responsibility now, you do know that?”
The boy nodded and sniffled. He ran his hand over the dog’s back. “I’m sorry, Champ,” he whispered. “It wasn’t your fault. Grandmother must have let you out.”
Zeph shook his head. “Well then, see, you don’t have to take the blame for Champ. You’ve been doing a good job of caring for him. I like the name you gave him.”
“Thanks. Cousin Dash wanted to call him Boulder Head.”
“Good thing Champ is your dog and not Mr. Dash’s. You know a dog lives for ten years or more. So it’s important to remember that you can’t just abandon Champ when he’s naughty, or you’re tired of him.”
The boy looked into the pup’s big brown eyes. “I won’t ever abandon you, Champ. Ever.” The boy’s chin quivered. And with good reason. Zeph hadn’t seen any daddy around. This boy knew what it felt like to be left behind.
So did the ghost.
“You love this dog, and he’ll love you forever. Until the day he dies. He won’t ever leave you. He won’t ever disappoint you when it comes to the important things. Now, you have to remember that he’s just a little puppy, and today he got himself into trouble. But it wasn’t really his fault.”
The boy nodded. “And it wasn’t my fault either, was it?”
“No it wasn’t. You go on home, and you just keep loving him the way you’ve been doing. He’ll take care of you for life.”
The boy wiped blood and snot from h
is nose. “Who are you?”
“I’m Zeph Gibbs. You tell your momma that I’ll be by the theater sometime next week to take a look at the woodwork.”
“You’re the one who gave her the cat. That cat hates the dog.”
Zeph smiled. “Don’t I know it. That cat hates just about everything, boy, except your momma and catching mice.”
Zeph stood up. “Well, I gotta be going now.”
He turned and strolled through the ball fields where Luke and Gabe had once played. The ghost was restless. He wanted to return to the swamp and the woods.
The grannies drove Aunt Miriam home. And since they drove, they beat Dash and Savannah back to the house on Baruch Street. Savannah walked through the front door to find Mom pacing across the Persian rug in the front parlor like a caged lion, while Claire sat regally in the side chair looking disgusted.
Mom stopped pacing and put her hands on her hips. As always, Mom had turned herself out to the nines in a tan linen pantsuit with an unconstructed jacket over a chocolate brown silk tee. Mom always dressed in professorial beige, and her ash blond hair, cut in a chin-length pageboy, never frizzed or moved or changed in any way. If she were to take a ride in Dash’s convertible, every strand would stay perfectly in place.
Mom was a control freak. Which explained why Savannah’s father had departed the scene early in Savannah’s life. Dad was an archaeologist who loved clutter. He spent half the year in London and the other in Cairo these days with his second wife. Derrick Reynolds had made it clear over the years that his liaison with Katie Lynne Brooks had been the worst mistake of his life. The fact that he had fathered a child with Mom seemed not to matter much to him, one way or the other. Savannah had seen her father exactly four times since she was three years old.
“Where’s Todd?” Mom asked.
Before Savannah could answer, Dash cleared his throat and stepped forward with an extended hand. “Aunt Katie Lynne, it’s mighty nice to see you. You may not remember me, but I’m your distant nephew, Dash. We last met at your mother’s funeral when I was seventeen.”
Mom looked down at his hand and up at his face. “I know who you are.” She didn’t touch his hand, then she turned back toward Savannah. “Where is Todd?”
“He’s looking for his dog.”
“His dog?” Claire said. “You mean that vicious animal that lunged at us when we opened the back door?”
“Yes, ma’am. Champ is the most vicious puppy I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing,” Dash said.
“Good grief, Savannah, Todd has allergies. Why on earth does he have a dog of any kind, much less one like that?”
“Todd has allergies?” Dash asked, his mouth quirking a little bit.
Claire glared at Dash. “You—be quiet.” Claire had the audacity to wag her finger in his direction.
Dash launched one of his disarming smiles at Claire, then he leaned into the archway between the parlor and the foyer. “Yes, ma’am,” he drawled. He hooked his thumbs in his belt loops and assumed his cowboy pose.
Claire turned back toward Savannah. “Go find your son. Our plane leaves at five-thirty this afternoon. I don’t want to miss it.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize this was a drive-by visit. I thought you would be staying for Easter supper. You know, you all are welcome anytime, but an advance phone call would be nice, in the future.” Savannah spoke in a truly saccharine voice as she struggled to control herself. It might have been the first time she’d tried sarcasm on Claire.
“Don’t get smart, young lady. I am exasperated with you,” Mom said.
“Why are you exasperated? I’m merely saying that it would have been nice to know you were coming. I’m not sure I bought a big enough ham for everyone. But, then, if you’re leaving tonight I guess there isn’t any food emergency.”
“Savannah, stop,” Claire said, “Todd is going to be on that airplane with us, whether you come or not.”
“Uh, excuse me,” Dash drawled, “but I don’t see where a couple of misguided grannies get off taking a kid away from his momma.”
“Who is this man?” Claire asked.
“He’s my nephew,” Aunt Miriam said, as she shuffled into the room bearing a tray with a pitcher of sweet tea. “And he has a talent for speaking his mind.”
Savannah rushed to help her, but Aunt Miriam said sharply, “I’m all right, sugar. I’m not dead yet.” She put the tray down on the coffee table. “Can I interest anyone in some refreshments?” Miriam’s dark eyes were bright behind her trifocals.
“All right, that’s it,” Claire said, “I’m calling the local authorities.”
“Uh, ma’am, I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Dash said.
“And why not?”
“Because I already called them. They’re keeping an eye on Todd. He’s looking for his dog.”
“But you don’t know where he is?”
“Well, I have a general idea where he is. And I’m betting that Zeph will find him and the dog pretty quick and bring them both home. But just in case the dog doesn’t go where I expect him to, I’ve got Damian keeping an eye on Todd. He’s fine.”
“Who is Damian?”
“The chief of police.”
“Honestly, Savannah, have you lost your mind? If something happens to Todd, you’re going to be in such a world of hurt,” Mom said. “You could be charged with child endangerment.”
“Nothing is going to happen to him.” Dash’s voice sounded sharp.
“Greg is not going to like this,” Claire stated. “Not one bit. And if you let that boy come to harm, you’ll lose him, Savannah. Wouldn’t it be better if you just gave it up and came home where you and Todd belong?”
Savannah lost her temper. “Look, we’re not going back to Baltimore. That’s final. You both need to adjust. If Greg wants to own up to his responsibilities and have a conversation with me about Todd, I’m happy to talk with him and work out arrangements. He’s the only one I’m going to talk with about this. Besides, I’ve got investors for my theater renovation project, my son is starting to blossom, and people here like and respect me. Why would I want to leave?”
“You’ve got investors?” Mom asked. The surprise in her voice only served to fuel Savannah’s growing annoyance.
“Yes, I do.”
“Who would be stupid enough to invest in that theater?”
Before Savannah could respond, the doorbell rang, and Dash said, “Well since I’m obviously not invited to this party, I’ll go see who that is.”
Dash opened the door and Lillian Bray came waddling in, her face beet red. “Dash Randall, what have you done?” she demanded.
“Me? I don’t think I’ve done anything.”
“Well you should have done something.” She rolled into the living room and turned on Savannah. “Honey, you can’t say no to Bill. I mean you and he are a foregone conclusion. It’s written in the stars. Made in Heaven. Y’all belong together. Now, honey, he’s on his way over, and you need to tell him that you’ve changed your mind.”
“Who is Bill?” Claire asked in a tone very much like Dame Judi Dench playing Queen Elizabeth in Shakespeare in Love.
“Oh, he’s the one who told you Savannah couldn’t leave because she’s getting married,” Miriam said as she poured another tumbler of sweet tea.
“The minister?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Dash supplied.
“Oh, my goodness,” Lillian said suddenly, “is that you, Katie Lynne. Why you’ve gotten so… old.”
Mom’s jawline tensed. “So have you, Miz Lillian.” Mom turned toward Savannah. “You have funding for the theater, and you’re marrying a minister? And all this happened in a month?”
Savannah shrugged. “Well, I guess things happen fast in Last Chance.”
Mom rolled her eyes. “My experience is that life moves at a snail’s pace here. And knowing your history with men, I’m thinking this development is a very dangerous sign. Hon, you’re always falling in love at the drop
of a hat. And you’re always disappointed in the end. And I know how that goes. God, I know. I’ve been married three times. You can’t marry this man, not if you’ve only known him for a few weeks.”
“Oh, yes she can,” Lillian countered. “Miriam has blessed the match between Bill and Savannah. And what Miriam brings together stays together.”
Mom stared at Lillian and then at Aunt Miriam and then back. “You all are crazy,” she muttered. “Savannah, these people are crazy. You can’t live here.”
Just then Bill Ellis strolled through the open front door. “Hello, is anyone home?”
“C’mon in, Bill, your timing is impeccable, as usual,” Dash said. “We’re having a family get-together, and I have this feeling we may need spiritual guidance before it’s over.” Dash had resumed his place, leaning against the archway.
Bill strolled into the room bearing an Easter lily that he might actually have bought instead of picking from Lillian’s garden.
“Meet Savannah’s mother, Katie Lynne Brooks, and Savannah’s ex-mother-in-law, Claire White. Ladies, meet Reverend William Ellis, our minister at Christ Church.” Dash did the introductions in a voice that sounded low and brittle.
Bill didn’t smile. “I’m here for you, Savannah. What can I do?”
“Leave,” Claire said.
Lillian glared at Claire, and Claire dished it right back. It was a standoff as to who had the scarier evil eye.
“Let every person be quick to hear, slow to speak, slow to anger; for the anger of man does not produce the righteousness of God,” Bill intoned.
Lillian turned. “That’s from Proverbs?” she asked.
“No, it’s from James, Lillian, and you’d be well to remember the sentiment.”
The church lady nodded and actually seemed to deflate. “You’re right, Bill, we should keep calm and try to sort this out.”
Savannah’s patience snapped.
“Look,” she said in a firm voice, staring right at Claire. “Bill is right, you need to stop talking and start listening. I don’t want to live in Baltimore. My life is no longer there. I will do whatever I can to make sure you both have a chance to spend time with Todd. I know you love him and want the best for him. But Todd is living with me. If you’d like to stay, that’s fine. You can join us for Easter dinner. But I won’t have any more demands, from any of you.”
