The Most Famous Illegal Goose Creek Parade

by Virginia Smith

  Violet’s eyebrows disappeared beneath her carefully arranged curls while nearby onlookers cast curious glances in their direction.

  Albert seemed to have swallowed his tongue. Vowing to send a framed picture of herself for his cubicle on Monday morning, Millie cleared her voice. “Actually, I’m Millie.” She extended a hand toward the woman, whose grin revealed a set of horse teeth that appeared ready to gallop out from her cherry red lips when the starting gun fired. “You must be Mrs. Thacker.”

  “This isn’t my mother. She’s my wife.” Franklin’s hee-haw ended in a snort.

  “I’m Lulu.” The thin woman’s frame belied her strength. Millie’s hand was crushed and pummeled. “The birth certificate says Luella, but everybody calls me Lulu.”

  “Except me,” put in Franklin. “I call her Sugar Buns.” He slapped his wife’s behind and they both indulged in a loud chortle.

  “Lulu,” repeated Millie, struggling to maintain a pleasant expression. “A pleasure to meet you. This is Violet Alcorn. She’s your new next-door neighbor.”

  Millie cast an apologetic look toward her friend, who looked faintly stunned while her hand was similarly abused.

  “Violet.” Franklin tapped his lips with a finger, eyes skyward while he made a show of contemplating the name. “Reminds me of my favorite fruit. Can I call you Plum?”

  Violet turned a blizzardy smile his way. “Not if you expect me to answer.”

  Both Thackers found that uproariously funny, which drew more stares. Albert’s glower had assumed an unmistakable I told you so expression. Millie ignored him.

  “I’m so glad we got to meet you.” She uttered the fib without a qualm, slipping one hand through Albert’s arm and grabbing Violet’s sleeve with the other. “But we were just heading to lunch, so we’ll see—”

  “Great idea.” Franklin clapped his hands with a noise like a minor explosion. “We’ll join you. Maybe you can do some more intros. You know, show off the new geese to the flock.”

  Millie cast about for an appropriate lie to rescue them from lunch with the Thackers. She had yet to come up with a plausible excuse when a commotion erupted at the far end of Main Street.

  A metallic clang reverberated in the air, rendering the onlookers silent. All heads turned toward the end of the block, where a sizable crowd had assembled. The noise turned out to be Junior Watson in possession of a metal trash can lid and a crowbar, which he applied with enthusiasm until Norman stopped him by capturing his arm. Norman whipped a bullhorn from behind his back.

  “Attention, Creekers. We’uns are sick to death of bein’ ignored. Selbo ain’t no more special than the next feller. Now he’s set up in a fancy office, he’s plumb forgot who put him there. We aim to march around this here street ’til our voices is heard.”

  The crowd of thirty or so protesters surrounding him gave a cheer. He advanced, flanked by Little Norm and Junior. The others formed a loose line behind them, three or four deep. Some waved signs announcing Down with Government Tyranny, Our Voices Will Be Heard, and even Impeach Mayor Selbo.

  “Look, Sugar Plum.” Excitement pitched Franklin’s voice high enough to be piercing. “It’s a parade!”

  Albert turned a disgusted look his way. “It’s a protest march.”

  “I wonder if they’ll throw out candy.”

  Millie instantly forgave Albert for all the negative things he’d ever uttered about Franklin Thacker.

  “I’m calling Louise Gaitskill as soon as I get home,” muttered Violet.

  As the picketers neared, Millie scanned the group. Hazel paced proudly behind Norman, her towering height put to full use in order to hold aloft a sign proclaiming, Power to the People! Sharon and Chuck Geddes marched with their heads held high. Edith Boling, her hand wrapped around Boomer’s leash, stomped with a militant step heavy enough that Millie half expected the ground to tremble. Even sweet old Delores Brown had joined the protest, scuttling along the perimeter with a stack of flyers which she pressed into the hands of the onlookers. The picketer’s combined voices became audible in an off-tune rendition of “We Shall Overcome.”

  “That must be what they were doing in the barn,” Millie told Violet. “Painting signs and rehearsing their song.”

  “They should have practiced longer.”

  Overhearing Violet’s comment, Franklin let out a guffaw and slapped her on the back. “Good one, Plum! I like you.”

  Millie shuddered, while Violet’s face took on a shade that came close to demonstrating her name. What had she done to her best friend by selling her house to such an odious man?

  Shop doors opened on both sides of the street and people spilled out to line the sidewalk. Voices shouted toward the protesters.

  “Why don’t you go on home, Norman? You aren’t accomplishing anything here.”

  Millie identified Pete Lawson as the heckler. Beside him, his wife, Cheryl, looked mortified.

  Junior interrupted their song to shout a reply. “You capitalist pig!” He looked extremely proud of himself for the snappy comeback.

  Violet shook her head. “Does he even know what a capitalist is?”

  “Probably not,” Millie answered.

  A grumble stirred among the onlookers while Pete turned as purple as Violet. “Yeah? Well, there’s two sides to this issue.”

  To the obvious amazement of his wife, he whirled and elbowed his way through the crowd to disappear inside Cardwell’s. The picketers resumed their song and continued their advance. They had not gotten far before Pete returned, holding a poster board above his head. The message, hastily scrawled in black marker, read Council Supporter above a downward pointing arrow. He held the sign high and ran into the street shouting, “Who’s with me?”

  A surprising number of people rushed to join him. They crossed to the northbound side of Main Street and began their own march in the opposite direction, keeping equal distance as they circled the railroad tracks.

  Franklin clapped with glee. “This is great. Which side are you on, Bert?”

  Albert’s jowls sagged even further, weighed down by disapproval. “Neither. I’m neutral.”

  The forerunners of Norman’s group approached, and Hazel caught sight of them. She pointed a finger in their direction. “Al Richardson, I told you to take a stand. The time has come. What side are you on?”

  Every eye in the vicinity swiveled to fix on poor Albert, who looked like he’d just choked on a hornet. Oh, how he hated being the object of attention. Millie’s protective hackles rose, and she slipped forward to stand at his side. If he collapsed she doubted if she could catch him, but at least she could break his fall. She leveled a glare at Hazel.

  “I…I…” Face draining of blood, Albert teetered, and Millie slipped an arm around his waist.

  From the middle of the procession, Woody shouted, “He supports the Council, and I’ll tell you why. He’s done the same thing himself. Just hired an out-of-towner to fix up that falling-down old house he’s buying, when he shoulda supported Creeker families instead.”

  A space opened up around them as the surrounding people edged away. Only Violet and the Thackers remained at their sides.

  Millie replied with heat and more volume than she intended. “If you mean your brother-in-law, he didn’t even bother to look at the house.”

  Albert turned a horrified gaze her way and hissed, “Don’t engage them.”

  “Probably didn’t want anything to do with that catastrophe,” Woody called back. “Didn’t wanna get killed when the roof collapses.”

  How dare he! Anger boiling through her veins, Millie’s breast heaved and fell as she tried to suck in a calming breath. If people gave his words credence, their bed and breakfast was doomed before it even opened. Nobody would visit a place with a reputation of being unsafe. She shouted a fiery rebuttal. “It’s more likely he didn’t want to get sued for sloppy workmanship.”

  Albert stepped in front of her, forcing her to look away from the odious man. “Mildred Richardson, wh
at are you doing?”

  Pulse pounding, Millie drew herself to her full height, which brought her head roughly level with his chin. “I am choosing sides.”

  Her shout was loud enough to be heard up and down Main Street. Aware that her husband stood gaping after her, she strode forward and stomped through the center of the picketers to the other side of the street.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Come on, Rufus.” Susan waved the dog cookie in front of the hound’s nose. “Your mommy made them, so I’m sure they’re yummy.”

  He turned his head away, expression full of misery. Didn’t even sniff the treat, poor thing. Some dogs were like that, terrified of the vet’s office. Millie had mentioned that Rufus was a stray, abandoned here and boarded for several weeks before she decided to adopt him. The place probably held frightening memories for him.

  Straightening, she returned the cookie to the jar. If she were going to win him over, she’d have to get him out of this place, at least until he relaxed enough to accept her.

  “Feel like going for a walk?”

  His ears twitched ever so slightly at the word.

  “You like walks, huh?” She removed the keys from the pocket of her lab coat and wrapped the end of his leash around her fingers. “We’ll just take a quick one up and down the street. Maybe that’ll loosen you up a bit.”

  Sensing his impending departure from the clinic, Rufus perked up. She opened the door, pleased when he trotted obediently outside with her. Key in hand, she lifted it toward the deadbolt.

  “Now, give me a second to lo—”

  With a jolt that nearly jerked her shoulder out of its socket, Rufus took a flying leap from the porch. The leash flew out of her nerveless fingers while he filled the air with furious barking.

  “Come back here!” she shouted.

  She might as well have saved her breath. The dog dove toward the lone tree that shaded the parking lot while the object of his pursuit flashed a bushy gray tail as it scampered up the trunk. Rufus screeched to a halt at the base of the tree to deliver a canine bellow. Thank goodness. If she hurried, she could catch him. Leaving her keys dangling from the lock, she bounded off the porch with a leap that would make a long-jumper proud.

  Startled, Rufus cast a quick glance at her and then deserted the squirrel. He tore down the sidewalk at top speed.

  “Nooo!”

  In the past week she could count her patients on two hands. Now one of them was escaping. Unacceptable. At least she’d chosen casual shoes over dress pumps this morning. She dug in her heels and sprinted after him.

  The crowd closed around Millie, obscuring her from Al’s view. He hovered, uncertainty warring with anger in the tense battleground of his stomach. What an infuriating woman. They’d discussed this, had agreed to maintain a nonpartisan stance.

  “Well?” demanded Violet, hands planted on her hips. “Are you going to let her go alone?”

  That’s exactly what he wanted to do. Flee to the solitude of his house, plant himself in a lawn chair on his deck and watch the birds flitter around the bird feeders. But Millie was his wife, his life partner, his soul mate, besides being a sword-sized thorn in his side. Heaving a sigh heavy enough to blow leaves from the trees, he stepped off the sidewalk.

  “That’s the spirit, man.” Thacker’s voice rang with approval as he, too, rushed forward, Lulu and Violet on his heels.

  I am marching in a protest with Franklin Thacker.

  There were not enough sighs in his body to express his feelings. No possibility that the man would keep mum about this on Monday, either.

  Chuck, whom he’d always considered a friend, jeered as he passed. The blazing stare Hazel fixed on him left him smoldering. He sidestepped Old Lady Emerson and dodged past Edith Boling. An eternity later he emerged from the crowd in the center of Main Street and paused to catch his breath on the walkway that connected the north and southbound lanes. The railroad tracks lay beneath his feet, and before him the rapidly expanding group of protesters who trailed behind Pete’s hastily made sign. No going back now.

  A commotion to his right drew his attention. Speeding down the center of the tracks in his direction were two bicycles, the mop-headed boys standing to pedal as fast as they could over the uneven track. A brown blur raced after them, trailing a bright blue rope. No, a leash. Al did a double take. Was that Rufus?

  Bringing up the rear was a red-faced Susan, arms pumping, the tails of her lab coat flapping behind her.

  The protest song died and the march was temporarily suspended as everyone paused to watch the spectacle of the town’s new veterinarian galloping down the train tracks in pursuit of a canine escapee. She stumbled, and an audible gasp rose from both sides. At that speed a fall would certainly prove disastrous. Her recovery elicited a relieved sigh from the onlookers, but she’d lost precious ground. Rufus pulled ahead.

  Al stepped backward seconds before the Wainright boys whizzed past, shrieking with glee. Rufus didn’t even pause as he, too, darted by. Susan, her gaze focused on the object of her pursuit, probably wasn’t even aware that she commanded the attention of the entire town.

  Thacker’s laughter, punctuated by snorts, rose into the air. He slapped his thighs with both hands. “What a great town,” he shouted, wiping tears from his eyes. “We’re going to love it here.”

  Searching the crowd in front of him, Al found Millie. She stood with hands covering her face, shaking her head.

  Her surroundings a blur, Susan drew on reserves of strength she didn’t know she possessed. A burst of speed gained her an advantage, and Rufus’s leash bounced across the train tracks in front of her, a mere yard away. He was tiring, no doubt due to an extra ten pounds of table scraps she suspected he was fed. If she could…just…reach…

  A figure appeared in her peripheral vision. One part of her brain registered the fact that it was a man, and that he ran at a diagonal path that would intersect hers in a few seconds.

  “Grab him!” She intended to yell, but breath failed her and the words emerged in a raspy whisper.

  Denim and brown hair sped past and, with the agility of an athlete, the man bent and scooped up the leash without missing a stride.

  “Whoa there, fella.”

  The deep voice rumbled from a well-muscled chest. He tugged the dog to a stop, and bent to scrub at his ears. Rufus collapsed on the worn toes of a pair of black leather boots, sides heaving. Breath coming in ragged heaves, Susan bent over, hands resting on her thighs, and willed herself not to throw up. When she straightened, she looked directly into the intoxicating gaze of Justin Hinkle.

  “Here you go, ma’am.” He flashed a disarming smile as he pressed the leash into her hand.

  “Th— Th—” She gulped and tried again. “Thank you.”

  “He must have gotten away from you.”

  A fresh explosion erupted in her face. “It happened so quickly. One minute he was standing beside me and the next, he nearly jerked my arm off.”

  Concern carved tiny lines at the corners of his eyes. “I hope you weren’t hurt.” He took her hand, gentle fingers exploring her wrist.

  Rational thought fled, and her world was reduced to a three-foot radius, with the electrifying warmth of Justin’s touch forming the center.

  The moment ended abruptly when a cluster of people arrived, their feet kicking up gravel.

  “Oh my. I am so sorry. Bad dog, Rufus. Bad.”

  Susan tore her gaze away from Justin’s ocean-blue depths to fix on a familiar face. Millie, accompanied by her husband and three people she didn’t know. With a start, she realized Justin still held her hand. She snatched it away and shoved it into her coat pocket.

  “It’s not his fault,” she assured Millie. “I should have kept a tighter grip on the leash. He was frightened, and there was a squirrel.”

  Al nodded as though that explained everything, and settled an almost approving glance on the dog.

  A wide grin erupted on the lean-faced man beside him. “That was quite a
show you put on, gal. Just what we needed, too. Things were getting a little tense.”

  “Show?” For the first time, her surroundings registered. Why were all these people standing around in the street? And staring at her?

  They’d all seen her mad dash after Rufus. Her vision blurred, and she wavered on her feet.

  Justin steadied her with a strong hand around her arm. “Maybe you ought to sit down for a bit.”

  She shook her head, cheeks on fire. “No, I’ve got to get back to the clinic. I left the keys in the door.” Glancing at Millie, she bit down on her lower lip. “I’ll understand if you don’t trust me to take Rufus.”

  Without a moment’s hesitation, Millie covered the hand holding his leash with both of hers. “Of course I trust you. You’re an excellent veterinarian.” She said the last in a voice loud enough to carry into the surrounding crowd.

  “Mind if I tag along?”

  With a start, she looked at Justin. Did he think she couldn’t handle the dog? “Why?” A hint of suspicion crept into her voice.

  He lifted a shoulder and held her gaze with a smile that melted her insides. “Because I want to.”

  Tongue delightfully numb, the only reply she could manage was a nod.

  The veterinarian and the handyman sauntered off, an exhausted Rufus in tow. Al grabbed Millie’s arm. “Come on. We’re going home.”

  Stubborn to the core, that was his Millie. Her entire body stiffened and her lips pursed to form a determined bow. “I’m staying.”

  “Me too.” Violet stepped up beside her, shoulder-to-shoulder in a show of solidarity.

  “C’mon, Bert. Let’s pound a bit of pavement.” Thacker actually extended a finger and poked Al’s stomach. “The exercise will do you good, buddy.”