The Most Famous Illegal Goose Creek Parade

by Virginia Smith

  Al shifted on the hard bench. He’d expected this, of course. But now that the job had been awarded to an outsider, he couldn’t help but worry about the repercussions. And a woman! No doubt that would add fuel to the discontent among chauvinistic old timers, of which there were more than a few. Would Saturdays at Cardwell’s ever be the same?

  When the clamor had calmed enough for him to be heard, Jerry spoke again.

  “I’ve had several long conversations with Ms. Barnes, and she’s well aware of the controversy this issue has caused. Though I advised against it, she insisted on being here tonight. She wanted an opportunity to meet you and to show you a sample of her work.” His expression became stern, and he swept the gymnasium from one end to the other, spending an extra-long time staring at Norman. “I know the residents of Goose Creek will treat her with the respect and hospitality a lady visitor deserves. So please join me in welcoming Ms. Sandra Barnes.”

  Looking toward the side stage, he stepped back from the microphone and began to applaud. Al joined, as did most everyone else. Norman, he noticed, sat stubbornly with his arms folded tightly across his chest.

  Two people emerged from stage left to join the mayor. One was Sheriff Grimes, whose presence made a statement that needed no interpretation. The woman beside him walked with a sure step, long-legged enough to keep pace with him. She stood nearly as tall as Grimes, who wasn’t a small man. Big boned and sturdy, she wore jeans, a belt with a gigantic turquoise buckle, and a worn leather vest over a starchy white shirt. Her boot heels clomped solidly across the stage. Her hair hung halfway down her back in a long, straight braid. Al recognized her immediately as the woman he’d seen a week or so ago drinking coffee at Cardwell’s.

  Millie leaned over to whisper. “She looks like a Texan to me.”

  Behind her, the same technician who’d fixed the sound system wheeled out a rolling cart with a projector mounted on it and positioned it beside the music stand. He stretched an extension cord to the back of the stage and pulled down a portable video screen.

  The sheriff stood to one side beside the mayor while Ms. Barnes approached the microphone.

  “First I’d like to thank y’all for trusting me with such an important job.” Her voice drawled, betraying a deep Southern influence. “Mayor Selbo’s told me about all the trouble you’ve been having, and I want you to know I understand. It’s not my place to comment on the right or the wrong of the decision. All I can do is express my thanks and pledge to you that you won’t be sorry you hired me.”

  An impressive opening statement. Al found himself approving of this woman’s approach.

  “Now, I’m not much for speeches, so I’ll make this quick. I’m not just a painter. I consider myself an artist. It just so happens I’m not all that fond of canvas or paper.” She grinned. “I’m originally from Texas, so I like to do things in a big way.”

  Millie caught Al’s eye and nodded.

  Ms. Barnes pressed a button on the projector the technician had set up, and the screen behind her displayed an image. Somewhere someone flipped a light switch, and half the lights in the gym went out so everyone could get a better view.

  The picture was of a billboard depicting a cowboy with an infectious grin, his hat pushed back on his forehead. The fancy lettering read Welcome to Lawry, Wyoming. An impressed murmur rose from the onlookers.

  “This was one of my first commercial jobs,” Ms. Barnes explained. “People aren’t my favorite subjects, but this guy happened to be the son of one of the town’s most prominent residents. I thought he was mighty fine to look at.”

  The comment was met with feminine laughter. Beside Al, Violet tittered and fanned her face.

  The picture changed. A concrete wall had been covered in a colorful mosaic of artistic designs, the overall impression fascinating and appealing. “This is the side of a building in the Bronx, and a while back it was a favorite target for graffiti. Some of the stuff spray painted on there was, well, let’s just say, objectionable. They hired me to do something that teenagers wouldn’t want to cover up.” She glanced toward her audience with a satisfied nod. “It worked.”

  The next photo appeared and was met with an audible gasp. A water tower, the barrel rounder and wider than theirs, had been painted to resemble a city block. Skyscrapers rose into the night, windows aglow. Cars lined the street, and pedestrians dressed in overcoats hurried past shops.

  “This one is on the outskirts of Chicago.” She cocked her head and pointed. “See that blue Honda there? That’s my mother’s car. She wanted to be in one of my paintings, and I’ve learned it’s always best to keep my momma happy. If you look real close, you’ll see her behind the wheel.”

  She turned back to face the audience, who had fallen silent as they gazed at the painting. Even Norman, Al noticed, had sunk down in his chair.

  “When I saw the RFB for your water tower, I was immediately drawn to the job because of the name of your town. Goose Creek, Kentucky.” She smiled. “It sounds like such a quaint, friendly place.”

  Though no one made a sound, a wave of almost palpable shame swept through the gymnasium. Al felt his share as well. He certainly hadn’t acted any friendlier than the rest of the Creekers in the past few weeks.

  “I even got in my car and zipped up here the next day. Drove through the town, took some pictures, had a cup of coffee at the soda fountain in Cardwell Drugstore.” A smattering of applause answered her. She planted a hand on her hip. “You know what y’all need, though? A motel or an inn or something. I had to stay overnight in Lexington.”

  Millie turned a triumphant grin his way. He patted her on the leg and directed his attention to Ms. Barnes.

  “Anyway, I went back home and came up with a sketch that I think fits this place. I included it in the bid I sent to the mayor, and I think that’s one reason he hired me.” She grew serious. “I’m going to show it to you, but I want you to know it’s rough. Something I threw together. The final will be a lot better.” Her chest expanded as she drew a slow, deep breath. “So here it is.”

  She pressed a button, and the image changed. Al studied it, and a feeling of immense satisfaction blossomed in him. She had drawn their water tower, though flattened like a map of the earth to depict all sides. Across the surface lay a lush, peaceful valley, green rolling hills outlined by a sprawling fence that resembled the one around the park at the edge of town. Blue-green water rushed across a rocky creek bed, so realistic Al could almost hear the peaceful babble. Overhead, a flock of geese flew in a V formation, their feathers capturing the sunlight. The words Goose Creek, Kentucky swept across the sky above them.

  The letters, Al noted with immense satisfaction, were perfectly straight.

  An awed silence stretched on as people examined the artwork. Finally, it was broken by the sound of a single person’s applause.

  On the front row, Little Norm Pilkington stood from his chair, clapping with enthusiasm.

  Within seconds, he was joined by nearly everyone in the place. Mayor Selbo folded his arms across his chest and gave a nod, his satisfied gaze sweeping over his constituents. Behind the podium, Ms. Barnes flashed a Texas-sized grin as the people of Goose Creek gave her their thunderous approval.

  Susan stood outside on the front lawn of the school building, her arm captured in Millie’s grip. Her attempts to tug free and head for home had been firmly resisted. The sweet little receptionist could be downright stubborn when she put her mind to it. Her husband stood to one side, hands clasped behind his back, looking patiently bored.

  “Really, dear, you should join us at Cardwell’s. Everyone will be there.” Millie spoke without looking at her. Instead, she constantly studied the faces streaming past them. “You need to establish a presence in town. Let people become accustomed to seeing you.”

  “I’m sure you’re right.” Susan attempted, gently, to separate herself, to no avail. “But I’m not feeling very sociable tonight. I really just want to go home and get a good night’s sleep.” />
  She could hope, anyway. She hadn’t slept well since Tuesday.

  “But this is a golden opportunity. We hardly ever have so many people out at one time.”

  Susan was saved from replying by Millie’s friend Violet, who arrived slightly out of breath.

  “You’ll never believe what just happened. Everybody was crowding around Ms. Barnes, congratulating her and wanting to shake her hand. Little Norm pushed his way through them, marched right up to her and offered to be her assistant for free. Said he wants to learn her technique.” A wicked gleam flashed in her eyes. “Norman stood beside him, squirming like a slug in salt.”

  “Good for Little Norm,” Millie replied. “It’s about time that young man stood up to his father.” She shot a quick glance at Susan, who felt herself beginning to bristle. Was that comment aimed at her?

  Before she could formulate a reply, Millie’s eyes widened as she caught sight of something behind her. “Dear, if you really prefer to go home, then of course you must. I’ll see you tomorrow.” She released Susan’s arm to grab hold of Al with one hand and Violet with the other. “Come on, you two. We’d better hurry if we want to get a seat.”

  With a speed that left Susan’s head spinning, she pulled them away. Al’s expression betrayed a bewilderment that matched her own as they disappeared into the crowd. Odd woman, that Millie. Nice, but odd. With a shrug, she turned toward the sidewalk—

  —and ran straight into Justin.

  Several things became clear at once. Millie’s insistence that she attend tonight’s meeting. Her distracted manner all evening. The firm grip that refused to let her go until she was ready, and the sudden dismissal and subsequent speedy retreat.

  But those things dissolved as her eyes were captured by Justin’s. Her surroundings faded. Voices dimmed and were drowned out by the drumbeat of her pulse.

  “Can we talk?”

  She ought to say no. Ought to leave now, before he had a chance to say a word. Maybe she did owe him an explanation, but she could text it to him. And yet…

  Numbly, she nodded.

  He glanced around, and then took her hand to pull her away from the crowd. A thrill shot up her arm at the touch of his fingers. Heart in her throat, she allowed him to guide her around the side of the school building where a playground lay in darkness. Wood chips crunched beneath her sneakers as they approached a dome-shaped jungle gym.

  When he released her hand, her skin felt cold, bereft of his touch. But she had no time to think about that because once again her eyes were drawn to his, held prisoner in the depths that the night turned black.

  “Why?”

  One word. But it held an agony of emotion that stirred a response in her. Tears stung her eyes, and she looked away. “I…I have a new business.”

  “So do I.” He dipped his head, trying to recapture her eyes. “I just went out on my own last year.”

  “Then you understand how hard it is. We have to focus, build our customer base. We don’t have time for…”

  “For what?”

  For love. Those were the words that almost crossed her lips.

  “For distractions,” she said.

  He stepped closer. Every nerve in her body tingled with the awareness that Justin stood less than a foot in front of her, and that she ought to retreat. Back up. But her feet refused to cooperate.

  “Am I a distraction, Susan?” At the sound of her name spoken in that deep, gravelly voice, her stomach began to flutter.

  “Yes,” she replied, breathless. Realizing what she said, she shook her head. “I mean, no. Not you, per se. Anything that takes my attention away from the business is a distraction.”

  His hand rose, and he placed a thumb beneath her chin to tilt her head back. How could such a gentle contact, no more than an inch of his skin touching hers, set off such a riot of emotion?

  “That doesn’t sound like my Susan talking.”

  “I— He—” She gulped and tried again. “My father is only thinking of me. He’s supported me in everything I’ve ever done. I wouldn’t have been able to buy the clinic if it weren’t for him. He’s all I’ve got.”

  “I understand what an important part of your life your father is. I’ve never met him, but he must be an amazing man to have raised a daughter like you.” He moved closer, so close his breath warmed her skin. “But you’re wrong. He isn’t all you have. You have me.” His voice lowered to a raspy whisper. “I think I’m falling in love with you, Susan.”

  The words rang in her ears, resonated in her soul. An explosion of emotions burst inside her, joy and elation, wonder and awe. He loves me. And I love him.

  How will I ever get the nerve to tell Daddy?

  Thumb still beneath her chin, Justin’s fingers spread open and crept up her cheek to cup her face. He leaned toward her, or maybe she leaned toward him. She didn’t know and didn’t care. The moment their lips touched, a giddy sense of elation transported her to a place she’d only dreamed of. Her questions died, brushed away by Justin’s kiss.

  Perhaps mustering the nerve to tell Daddy wouldn’t be so hard after all.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  On moving day Al awoke to the bedspread being ripped unceremoniously off the bed. Shivering, he opened his eyes to find Millie standing over him with a red bandana tied around her head.

  “I’ve got to get it packed before everyone shows up.” She folded the bedspread and placed it in an open cardboard box and then pointed toward the bedside table. “There’s your coffee. Your clothes are in the bathroom. Fold your pajamas and leave them on the vanity so I can pack them. Now get up, please, so I can strip the bed.”

  No cheerful good morning greeting. No pleasant off-key humming as she scrambled his eggs. Just, “Up and at ’em!” like a drill sergeant. The militant Millie had been in evidence more and more in the past week. She barked orders ruthlessly, checking items off her list with a fierce flourish that left him scurrying to do her bidding. Where had his sweet Millie gone? Oh, how he missed her.

  Rolling out of bed, he reached for the steaming Styrofoam cup. He missed real dishes, too. And real food. Though he now considered himself a connoisseur of fast food French fries—he preferred the thin, crispy ones that left disturbing grease marks on the napkin—he missed real potatoes whipped with cream and drenched in Millie’s country gravy.

  Dodging an array of cardboard boxes, he gulped coffee on the way to the bathroom to change clothes as instructed.

  Contrary to the weatherman’s dire predictions for a soggy Saturday, the sun rose lemony yellow in a cloudless sky. Dressed and downstairs, Al took his bagel—untoasted, since the toaster had been packed away days ago—and a second cup of coffee outside to enjoy his last breakfast on his deck. Correction. Franklin Thacker’s deck. The papers had been signed and the money exchanged yesterday.

  A loud engine roared into the driveway at the front of the house as he was licking the last bit of cream cheese off his fingers. Millie stuck her head through the door.

  “The boys are here with the truck.” Their sons, David and Doug, had come down from Cincinnati to help. They’d offered to pick up the U-Haul in Lexington and bring it over this morning.

  Al wiped his lips and for a moment considered throwing the napkin in the yard for Thacker to clean up. Instead he wadded it into a ball and, resigned to the day, turned toward his wife.

  “All right. I’m coming.”

  She studied him a moment and then stepped outside, closing the door behind her. An understanding expression softened her features as she crossed the deck and wrapped her arms around him.

  “I know it’s hard. We’ve lived a lot of life in this house.”

  “Yes we have.” He returned her embrace, relishing in the resurgence of the tender Millie he loved best.

  She laid her head on his shoulder. “I’m sorry to leave it.”

  “Are you?” Pulling back, he gazed down at her. “You seem so gung-ho about the bed and breakfast.”

  “I am.” She
turned in his arms and nestled back against his chest, her head fitting comfortably into the hollow beneath his chin. “But sad too. We’re turning the page on an important chapter in our life.”

  A note of sadness in her voice stirred in him a protective instinct that had sprung to life thirty-seven years before. He couldn’t stand to see his wife, his Millie, sad. As long as he lived, his job was to make her happy.

  He tightened his arms around her and rested his cheek against the top of her head. “We’re beginning a new chapter. A new adventure. Just you and me.”

  “And Rufus,” she reminded him, a giggle in her voice.

  “How could I forget Rufus?”

  The door opened and the head of their oldest twin, David, emerged. “There you are. Half the town is here to help. You want to come tell us what goes where?”

  Al indulged in one more hug before releasing his wife. She stepped out of his embrace, a transformation occurring in the time it took her to cross the deck door.

  “Okay, let’s get this done,” she commanded at the top of her lungs. “Boxes in the pickups, furniture in the van. Upstairs first.”

  Smiling, Al followed, prepared to do as he was told.

  Inside the house he dodged a dozen people heading upstairs. As David said, it did seem that half the town had showed up to help them move. Chuck, Fred, and Ralph balanced boxes in their arms, while Pete and Woody stood at opposite ends of the sofa, ready to pick it up. Thank goodness those two were on speaking terms again. Nodding his thanks, he picked up a pair of table lamps and strode outside.

  More Creekers had gathered on the front lawn, and half a dozen pickups lined the street. Doug and David were lowering the back ramp on the U-Haul. At the end of the walkway, Little Norm stood in the bed of his pickup arranging the boxes that were handed up to him.