“Not really. Haven’t you noticed?”
Okay, that had been a slam, but Erin couldn’t take offense because Noreen looked so upset. “What’s going on here, Noreen? What have I done to make you dislike me so much?”
Noreen’s red-rimmed eyes filled with tears and her chin quivered. “I don’t merely dislike you. I hate you!”
Erin tried to think what she might have done or said to deserve that, and she came up with nothing. “I don’t understand why. Maybe if you level with me, I can try to fix it.”
“You’re everything I’m not! Everything I’ll never be, no matter how hard I try.”
Erin couldn’t think what to say. “What on earth are you wanting to be?”
“Smart!” Noreen cried. “Self-confident! Pretty!” Her gaze dropped to Erin’s upper torso. “And skinny. I’d like to be skinny, just once. Only, unlike you, I’ll probably have to be dying of cancer.”
Erin’s heart caught as it began to filter into her brain that Noreen was jealous of her. The realization might have made her laugh if Noreen hadn’t looked so pathetic and miserable. “Oh, Noreen. There’s nothing special about me, and just for the record, I’m not naturally slender.”
“You aren’t? What did you do, get one of those bypass surgeries? I’ve thought about it myself, but the health insurance the county provides doesn’t cover stuff like that unless a person is almost dying of obesity. Typical of me, I can’t even do fat without screwing it up.”
Erin took a sip of coffee, which she didn’t really want, but the pause gave her time to think before she spoke. “You aren’t fat.”
“I am so. And I know it, so don’t be condescending.”
“You’re a tiny bit plump,” Erin told her. “Drop twenty pounds and you’ll be as skinny as a rail. But is that what you really want? I diet constantly to stay trim, but the only reason I do is because I’m a cop, and cops need to stay in shape. If I had a different job, I wouldn’t worry about my weight, at least not to the degree I do now.”
“I’d give an arm to have your figure.”
Erin felt as if she’d walked through that front door into an altered reality. She didn’t know this side of Noreen. At all. “I never dreamed you felt that way. Is that why you don’t like me?”
A spark of anger flared in Noreen’s blue eyes. “I don’t hate you because you’re skinny!” She leaned slightly forward to jut her chin. “I hate you because you stole Hank away from me!” Tears spilled over onto her cheeks. “And you know the worst part? You didn’t even want him. You’re a bitch that comes on to men, gets them hooked, and then moves on to the next victim.”
Hank. Erin did a mental scramble. Was she talking about Hank Bentley, a senior deputy at the department? Erin saw the guy in passing a lot. He was a large man with brown hair, ordinary features, and a belly that shrank or swelled, depending on whether he was dieting or not. “I assume you’re referring to Deputy Bentley.”
Noreen twisted her face into a sneer. “‘I assume you’re referring to Deputy Bentley,’” she echoed in a singsong voice. “Don’t treat me like an idiot! He’s a handsome, wonderful man. Of course that’s who I’m talking about!”
Oh, boy. Erin hadn’t understood what she was walking into when she’d asked to come here and talk with her coworker. This went way beyond heavy. Hank Bentley probably was a wonderful man, and he was good-looking in a Dan Blocker sort of way, a big, lumbering fellow with a mild manner. As a girl, Erin had watched Bonanza reruns and had loved his character, Hoss. But when she dreamed of Mr. Right, the pictures that formed in her mind weren’t very Hoss-like. Hank was too old for her, somewhere in his late forties. She was only thirty-one. She wasn’t interested in dating someone nearly twenty years her senior. She hoped to have children someday. A man Hank’s age wouldn’t wish to start a family, let alone raise one. If he had any kids, they were probably college age by now.
“Noreen, please believe me. I don’t have a thing for Hank.”
“Well, he has a thing for you. He liked me. I know he did. He used to hang out at my station when he had desk duty. We’d have coffee and talk. I’d take baked goods in, not just for him, but for everyone.” She shrugged. “Okay, that’s a lie. I made them mostly for him, but I made them available to everyone, because I didn’t want him to know that I was—well, you know—hoping he’d ask me out.” She dabbed under her eyes with the tissue again. “Then you came along, and he didn’t hang out at my desk anymore! One night he told me that he was worried what others might think if we kept talking so much. He said he couldn’t afford to have Sheriff Adams see us and believe that we were—well, you know.”
Erin ran that through her mind twice before she spoke. “And you blame me? Noreen, Hank barely even speaks to me. I’m not sure he even knows I’m alive. Has it ever occurred to you that his decision to cool it with you might have been due to the department rules?”
“What rules?”
“We aren’t allowed to date our coworkers. Sheriff Adams tells everyone when they’re hired that department romances are taboo. Any hanky-panky whatsoever will result in instant termination.”
“Uncle Blake never told me that.”
Erin shrugged. “You’re not a deputy, and you’re also his niece. Maybe he just never thought about it.”
“Maybe. But I’m more inclined to think that he never expected me to become a long-term employee. I’d just left my husband, and I think Aunt Marietta talked him into hiring me. It was a mess. I needed a job so I could support my kids. He probably thought I’d hightail it home to my husband the first time he got in touch with me after the breakup. Only I didn’t. I couldn’t. My ex had a temper, and it was getting worse instead of better. For the sake of my kids, I had to get them away from him.”
“I see.”
“No, Erin, you don’t see. I still need the job to support my kids, and Uncle Blake threatened to fire me yesterday.”
Erin almost slopped coffee down the front of her uniform shirt. “He what?”
“Don’t pretend you don’t know,” Noreen said, her tone accusatory. “He mentioned you by name. He said unidentified individuals have been complaining about the way I treat you. It didn’t take a genius IQ for me to figure out who’d complained the loudest.”
Horrified, Erin said, “No, no! Back up, please.” She held up both hands. “I’m innocent here. I’ve never spoken to Sheriff Adams about you, negatively or otherwise.”
“Give me a break. You’d love to see me go down the river.”
“That’s not true. I don’t want you to lose your job, Noreen. You’ve got kids to support. If one of us has to go, I’d rather it be me.”
Noreen emitted a bitter laugh. “Yeah, right. We can’t even talk on the radio without you picking on me.”
“Only because you make no attempt whatsoever to learn and use any of the code!” Erin popped back.
Noreen shoved her chair back from the table. “I can’t learn the codes. I’ve tried and I can’t!” She gestured toward the boxes in her hallway. “Why the hell do you think I’m packing to move? Because it sounded like a fun thing to do? In addition to insisting that I start treating you right, Uncle Blake says I have to learn the codes or I’m out the door!”
“Learning the codes really isn’t that difficult. Just take a few each week and memorize them. You’re probably trying to get all of them down at once, and hardly anybody can memorize stuff that way.”
“Maybe it isn’t difficult for you,” she cried. “But it’s impossible for me.”
“Nothing’s impossible.”
“Easy for you to say. But I’m dyslexic!”
Noreen’s voice went shrill on that last word, and Erin’s heart felt as if it plummeted to her feet and bounced around on the floor for a full second before it resettled in her chest where it belonged. “Oh, Noreen,” she whispered. “Why on earth didn’t you say something?”
“I never tell anyone! It’s a serious disability! I can barely read. Do you think I want my kids to know that? Or m-my b-boss?”
With that, Noreen burst into tears—not the pretty kind, but the wet, snotty, sobbing ones. Erin jumped up from the table, stepped around the chairs, and caught the redhead in her arms. “Okay, okay,” she soothed. “Calm down, Noreen. Dyslexia isn’t the end of the world. I can still help you learn the codes. We can do it together. I won’t let you lose your job.” She rocked from side to side. “You hear me? Together, you and me. You’ll learn them. Sheriff Adams won’t fire you. We’ll just explain this to him. He’s not a mean man. He’ll feel terrible when he finds out what the problem is.”
Noreen shook her head. “Aunt Marietta doesn’t even know! My mom never told her. She was ashamed. I guess she thought it might reflect on her, that Aunt Marietta might think she was dumb, too.”
Erin felt physically sick to her stomach. She thought of all the times she had complained to Noreen about her failure to use any codes and how that must have made the woman feel.
“Your mother is misinformed,” she said. “People with dyslexia aren’t dumb. The condition has nothing to do with intelligence.”
“Tell it to my mother. She’s been calling me dumb all my life.”
“God should have made parents returnable.” Anger welled within Erin as she thought of her father, and her mother wasn’t exactly up for a Mom of the Year award, either. “As a kid, I would have sent both of mine back and picked out new ones.”
Erin led Noreen back to her chair. Once she got her seated, she kept a hand on her shoulder, hoping to convey through touch that the overall forecast of Noreen’s future wasn’t as dismal as it seemed. “I’m so sorry for all the times I bitched at you for refusing to use any code. It was so wrong of me.”
“I wanted to learn them,” Noreen wailed. Then she cupped her shaking hands in front of her as if she held a book. “That stupid manual. All gibberish! Tiny print! It gave me a ferocious headache just trying to read it.”
Erin remembered how frustrated the manual on noxious weeds had made her feel, and she knew it must be a hundred times worse for Noreen. She gave her another comforting pat on the shoulder and sat back down across from her.
Fresh tears welled in Noreen’s eyes. “I’m moving back to Eugene to be close to my mom. I don’t like living near her. She says shit in front of my kids, always mocking me and putting me down. But I don’t see that I have a choice. I can’t study the codes, and Uncle Blake is at the end of his rope. I’m lucky he’s kept me on this long.”
Erin didn’t think a move to Eugene was a stellar idea. Noreen’s self-confidence was already trashed, and being near a mother who constantly demeaned her would only worsen the problem. “He’s at the end of his rope with you only because you’ve acted as if police codes are ridiculous and unnecessary.”
“If you were dyslexic, how would you handle it? I couldn’t act like the codes were important! If I had and then hadn’t bothered to learn them, he’d be even madder at me right now.”
“I would tell the truth,” Erin replied. “Most people will immediately understand the difficulties you face and be far more patient than they would be with someone else. Noreen, are you aware that experts believe Einstein was dyslexic?”
“What?” Noreen’s voice came out barely more than a whisper and rang with disbelief. “He was one of the smartest men ever.”
“Yes, I believe he was one of the most amazing humans ever born. And Picasso. Are you familiar with his work?”
Noreen nodded. “I love his art. It speaks to me. I went to an art museum once, and other people were bewildered by his painting, said it was all wonky, but to me, it didn’t look confusing at all.”
“Probably because he was dyslexic,” Erin pointed out. “He saw things like you do. You are not dumb. You’re probably way smarter than I am. It’s sad how a parent can mess with our heads and make us think we’re less than what we really are.”
“I think my little Brock has the same learning disability.” A tortured look entered Noreen’s eyes. “Maybe not as bad as me, but he’s failing first grade. I know he’s trying, but every second at school is a struggle.”
Erin pressed her palms flat on the table. “Get him tested. Immediately, Noreen. Don’t do to him what your mom has done to you.”
“I don’t want him to grow up with that label! It marks people.”
“When were you diagnosed?”
“I was older.”
“And believed you were dumb until you found out?” Erin asked.
“I still believe I’m dumb.”
“Because you struggled and failed in school, Noreen, and your mother compounded the problem by calling you names. Brilliant people have dyslexia. You didn’t know you did, so your inability to excel in some things made you feel dumb. Don’t let that happen to Brock.”
“How do I get him tested?”
“I’m not a parent yet, but I think the best place to start would be by asking his teacher.”
“You mean tell her I’m dyslexic? Then she’ll know, and she’ll tell other people, and then everyone in town will know.”
Erin recalled Wyatt Fitzgerald’s reluctance to admit to her that he was profoundly deaf. Now here was Noreen, with a different disability but the same refusal to be labeled. In Erin’s opinion, there was no such thing as normal or abnormal. People were unique and couldn’t be stuffed into categories.
“I want to get you a T-shirt made that reads, ‘I’m dyslexic and proud of it.’ And you should be proud, Noreen. I never guessed. Nobody at the department has a clue! That you’ve worked with everyone there—for how long? over four years?—without anyone so much as suspecting is absolutely amazing. And except for your failure to memorize the codes, just look at how well you do that job. Dispatching can be demanding.”
“Not so much in Mystic Creek. In a city, it would be crazier.”
Erin could see she had her job cut out for her with Noreen, if she chose to take it on. The woman couldn’t even give herself a pat on the back. “You are amazing. Now that I know what the problem is, I’m in awe of you.”
Noreen rolled her eyes. “I’ll have trouble finding a job in Eugene, and I honestly don’t know how I’ll manage. It costs more to live there. My ex gets around paying child support by working under the table. He has a brand-new pickup and just bought a ski boat, but he doesn’t send me a dime for the kids.”
Erin reached across the table to grasp Noreen’s hand. “You won’t be fired. I promise. If the sheriff even makes noises about firing you, I’ll threaten to quit. I’ll even ask other deputies to threaten the same. We won’t let you lose your job. Your dyslexia doesn’t interfere with your performance.”
With her spare hand, Noreen wiped wetness from her cheeks. “Why would you do that for me? I’ve been nothing but awful to you!”
Erin couldn’t help it; she burst out laughing. “You really have been!”
“I’m so sorry. I was really steamed at you about Hank.”
“You’re already forgiven,” Erin assured her. “But from this point forward, can we work on trying to be friends instead of enemies?”
Noreen nodded. “I guess. But if you think you can teach me the codes, you’re dreaming.”
“What’s a code eight?” Erin asked her.
“An officer needs help,” Noreen replied. “But I only know that one because you and I were fighting about codes when you told me the meaning, so it stuck in my brain.”
Erin nodded. “True, but you now have code eight memorized.”
“I do. Don’t I?” She smiled through her tears. “Maybe you’re right and I really can memorize the rest.”
Erin gave her fingers a comforting squeeze. “No maybe to it, Noreen. You’re a bright lady. We can work around your dyslexia, and even better, it’ll be fun. Wh
en I’m working, we can practice on the radio as long as we’re careful and everyone on that frequency knows it’s only practice.” She strengthened her grip on the other woman’s fingers. “Let’s try it. When I say over the radio that I’m taking a code seven, it means I’m breaking to have lunch. An easy way to remember that is thinking, ‘She’s taking a code seven again? If she keeps that up, she’ll be seven times bigger than she already is.’”
Noreen dimpled a tear-streaked cheek. “I’ll push you to take lunch breaks. The more you go code seven, the bigger you’ll get and the happier I’ll be.”
“With a friend like you, who needs an enemy?”
“Is that what you think, that we’re going to be friends?”
Erin released Noreen’s hand. “Well, we haven’t done so well being enemies. Why not give friendship a try?”
Noreen nodded. “Yeah, why not? And as my new friend, don’t lie to me when you answer this question. I want honesty. Do you really think Hank might like me, and he’s just cooled it because he’s afraid he might get fired?”
Erin considered the question. “Hank Bentley hardly even looks at me. I bet he’s said hello all of a half dozen times in the whole year I’ve worked there. He definitely didn’t put a damper on your friendship because of me. So, yes, I think he backed off because he can’t afford to lose his job.” Erin sighed. “You really like him a lot, don’t you?”
“Oh, yes. He’s so nice, and he tells stories that make me laugh. When I found out he’s single, I couldn’t believe my good luck. I’d really like to find a nice man—someone who would be a good role model for my boys. They need a father figure.”
“Well, we’ll work on the sheriff,” Erin assured her. “I understand his reasons for instituting the no-dating rule. Workplace romances cause trouble. Look at Hank, for instance. He’s a senior deputy and an attractive man. But his position is problematic, both for him and his female subordinates. If a woman seems to be attracted to him, how can he be sure she likes him for himself? And on the flip side, if he hits on a subordinate, how can she be sure she won’t lose her job if she tells him to hit the road?”
Strawberry Hill Page 25
