Filed to story: Love on the Sidelines (Natalie & Karl)
There were two checkout counters, situated so close together there was barely room to walk between them. Mrs. Burgess manned one, Mr. Burgess the other. Mrs. Burgess was currently busy checking Gretchen Treece’s groceries, although it looked like they were doing more talking than checking. I went to Mr. Burgess’ lane. I’d always liked him better anyway.
We exchanged perfunctory greetings as I placed the handbasket holding my items on the counter, then reached into my purse for my checkbook. Mr. Burgess’ fingers flew over the cash register keys as he tallied up my items. By the time he finished, both lines had filled up with customers waiting their turn.
Gretchen chose that moment to notice me. “Why, Natalie. I swear, I haven’t seen you at the club in ages.”
No, and if I had anything to say about it, I’d never set foot in the place again. But I made myself smile. “Really?”
“I suppose you heard that Karl Hayes is back?” Her eyes were avid with curiosity. Immediately, I tensed, but before I had a chance to respond, Mrs. Burgess jumped into the conversation.
“Well, I think it’s just awful, letting a murderer run around loose like decent folk. I can promise you he won’t be doing any business here. We don’t need his money.” Without thinking, I snatched back the check I’d handed Mr. Burgess. “Well, since you obviously don’t need any more business, I’ll just take mine elsewhere. And while I’m at it, I’ll spread the word that people should find another place to shop. I know Acres will appreciate the extra business.”
Acres was a store out on the highway and the bane of Mrs. Burgess’ existence.
While smaller than the IGA, they carried much the same stock and she constantly complained about the competition.
Mr. Burgess took my check back and glared at his wife. “Ain’t nobody ever been refused service in this store, and there ain’t never going to be. Do I make myself clear?”
Mrs. Burgess’ face reddened, but she kept her mouth shut, probably remembering suddenly that her son worked for me. Unfortunately, Gretchen was only getting warmed up.
“Now, Mr. Burgess, you know we have to set a high standard for this town. If we don’t, degenerates and perverts will overrun our streets, corrupt our children. And it all starts with people of low moral standing. They’re the ones we need to keep out of Morganville.”
I swear, I don’t know what hit me. Maybe it was all those years of watching Piggy throw herself at anything in pants, doing her best to make my life miserable. Whatever the reason, a fierce elation welled up inside me as I spoke.
“Oh, really?” I purred. “I wasn’t aware that Peggy was leaving town, but since we don’t allow people of low morals to live here, I guess it is for the best.” You could have heard a pin drop, the silence behind me was so deep. I could almost feel the other customers leaning forward, ears straining to catch every word.
The blood drained from Gretchen’s face, but her nose went up in the air and she sniffed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Then allow me to enlighten you.” I braced both hands on the counter. No doubt I was a fearsome sight to behold right then, because Gretchen took a hurried step back.
“Since Peggy turned thirteen years old, every woman in this town has known to lock their husbands up when she was around. Not that it did them much good. Your daughter seems to have no qualms about climbing any man in her vicinity. Including my husband.” I lifted one hand and examined my nails casually.
“I will admit, though, she must not be that good. That was one of the shortest affairs Hugh ever had.” I lowered my hand and looked her right in the eye. “Of course, I had to divorce him after that. There was no way I could sleep with him knowing where he’d been. I’d have had to boil him first. What if he picked up some disease from her?” A shudder I didn’t have to fake ran through me.
Gretchen sputtered furiously and looked like she was ready to faint, but I had one more point to make. “People who live in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones, Gretchen.
You might want to remember that before you start trying to run someone out of town.” Calmly, I picked up the bags Mr. Burgess had packed for me, then paused to let my gaze sweep the crowd. Most of the women were smiling, as if they were tempted to let loose with a spontaneous cheer. The men were a different story. The majority of them looked worried, their gazes skittering away from mine, guilt written all over their expressions. Probably wondering how much I knew, I decided. And after those looks, I knew quite a lot. In sheer numbers alone, Piggy had managed to put Liz Swanner to shame.
My adrenaline rush lasted long enough to get me home, but as soon as I put my groceries away, I collapsed on the edge of the bed and buried my face in my hands.
“Oh, God, oh, God, oh, God,” I chanted, rocking back and forth. I couldn’t believe what I’d done. Maybe Helena was right and I really did need a shrink.
Until this evening, I’d never shared any aspect of my personal life with anyone.
Now I’d told half the damn town that I knew about Hugh’s affairs. Well, if nothing else came of it, maybe they’d stop looking at me as the poor, deluded little woman who didn’t have a clue what her husband was up to.
The image of a volcano popped into my mind, one with small steam vents on its side to release the pressure, and a shaky laugh tore its way from my throat, the first honest amusement I’d felt in years. That volcano was exactly what I felt like. It was so wonderful, so freeing, to finally turn loose and say exactly what I was thinking. And while I normally wasn’t a hurtful person, if anyone had deserved it, it was Gretchen with her holier-than-thou attitude.
The problem with volcanoes, I mused, was that eventually the big explosion was going to happen no matter how much steam was let off. I was wondering what would set mine off, and who would get caught in the pyroclastic debris, when someone knocked on the door.
I had known Karl was working next door with a crew of men when I’d left that morning, and I’d seen him again when I’d unloaded my bags from the car that evening, but for once my mind was on other things. He was the last person I expected to find on the other side of the door, and my anger did a slow burn all over again.
“What do you want?” I blocked the threshold with my body, ignoring the fact that he could pick me up and set me aside with one finger if he wanted to. I was also trying real hard not to notice how his damp black T-shirt clung to his upper body, or the way he looked in tight, faded jeans, or the way beads of moisture sparkled in his dark hair.
“Only some first aid. You don’t have to bite my head off.” He held up his right hand to show me a small puncture wound oozing blood from the base of his thumb. “I don’t have the water hooked up next door yet and I figured it needed to be cleaned out.”
His expression was suspiciously innocent. I put my hands on my hips as I glared at him. “It doesn’t look to me like you’ll risk bleeding to death if you try to make it home.” The dimples in his cheeks deepened when he grinned. “Ah, but you see, I don’t have any bee balm at home.”
I spit out the dirtiest word I knew, one I’d never said in mixed company before, and stalked to the bathroom. The yank I gave the door of the medicine cabinet nearly tore it out of the wall. Still mumbling under my breath, I grabbed a tin of bee balm, spun, and then came to a dead stop.
Karl had closed the door behind him and now stood at my sink, washing the blood from his hand. His presence seemed to fill the room, suck the oxygen right out of it until I couldn’t breathe.
When he was through, he turned the water off and pulled a couple of paper towels from the roll before turning. Leaning his rear against the sink, he gazed around the room while he dried his hands. “It still feels like home, in spite of the changes. Same chair, same rug, same curtains-” His glance swung in my direction. “Same bed.”
Spine stiff, I thrust the tin at him. “Here. Keep it.” Instead of taking it, he held out his hand. “Would you mind doing the honors?
Kind of hard to reach with my left hand.”
Damn right I minded. I didn’t even want him in my room, much less to actually touch him. “I’m sure your wife will be happy to do it for you,” I snarled.