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“Don’t worry,” Billy whispered. “There’s not that much to fall over back here except your panty hose.”
She laughed and relaxed a little. “I was just holding on to you in case you’re afraid of the ghost that hangs around this place.”
“I’ve never been afraid of ghosts. Never seen one wield a belt, or crash a car, or slug anyone. If you ask me it’s the living who walk this earth we need to worry about, not the dead.”
“You’re probably right.”
When they passed the side of the house where vines draped most of the windows, he slowed. “Did you see that?”
“What?”
“I thought I saw a light flicker inside the house.”
“You’d better not be trying to frighten me.” She glanced over his shoulder at the window. A light blinked only a fraction of a second and was gone.
He stopped. His arm locked her hand against him, tugging her closer. “You see that?”
“Yes.” She reached in her purse for her cell. “I’m calling the sheriff.”
He pushed her into the vines as they watched the pinpoint of light moving slowly across the room.
It blinked again near the front door. Lora couldn’t breathe. The good news was that whoever haunted the house seemed to be leaving. The bad news was it was coming outside with them. Visions flashed in her imagination of a battle in blackness against a monster they couldn’t see. She would swing wildly, fighting for her life. So would Billy. In the morning, the sheriff would find them both dead. By accident, they’d murdered one another. They’d probably have to wait until a crime-scene photographer came in from Wichita Falls. By then, everyone in town would see her bloody body lying in the mud with vines twisted in her hair and her skirt up. Her mother would be horrified.
“Let’s follow them.” Billy pulled her forward.
Lora wanted to scream, “Are you kidding?” But yelling would only attract the trespassers. All she managed was a quick nod. She had no wish to trail anyone, but he wasn’t leaving her here alone in the vines with creatures already nibbling at her bare ankles.
Billy’s undamaged hand slid down to hers as they moved around the corner of the house.
She heard footsteps hurrying across the boards of the front porch. Then a squeal and laughter.
A car drove down Main toward them. Headlights swung across the yard as it swerved to a stop facing the house.
Footsteps scrambled off the far side of the porch and vanished into the night.
A car door opened, then slammed. “Who’s out there?” a man yelled. “This is Deputy Adams. You’d better step into the light right now.”
Billy tugged her hand backward, but she stood her ground. She’d never been afraid of the deputy. “It’s me!” she yelled. “Lora Whitman.”
The shadow continued forward, shining a light in Lora’s face. “What are you doing out here?”
Billy reluctantly moved into the light.
The deputy’s stance widened. “Who are you?”
“Hatcher,” he said.
Lora didn’t miss the lack of respect in Billy’s voice.
“What the hell are you doing here, Hatcher? Doesn’t your probation officer give you a curfew?”
Billy didn’t answer.
“He’s with me, Deputy,” Lora jumped in. “We’ve been over to Wichita Falls visiting Professor Dickerson, who was hurt this morning. I rode with him, and he brought me back here. My mother took my car home after she dropped me off at the meeting this morning.” Lora knew she was rambling, but she didn’t like being questioned. After all, they weren’t doing anything wrong, she was the one who called him in the first place. They had more of a right to be here than anyone. They were on the committee.
“Well, I guess it’s all right.” The deputy lowered the flashlight beam. “There’s a storm coming in, though. Radio says there might be hail. You both should be getting home.”
He turned the light on Billy’s face. “You got anything to say?”
Billy didn’t move, but she could feel his body stiffen, his grip painful over her fingers.
“One of these days we need to have a talk about your attitude, boy.” Adams took one step closer, blinding them with his light. “The sheriff won’t always be around, Hatcher. I can smell trouble every time I get within ten feet of you.”
“He just offered to walk me home.” Lora didn’t understand Billy. He made no attempt to be friendly or even civil. No wonder Adams treated him like a criminal. If he’d tell Adams what they were doing, the deputy would surely back down. “We must be going, Deputy Adams, but you should know that we did see someone inside the Altman house.”
Adams turned the light to Billy. “You want to come down to the office and make a report?”
Billy didn’t answer.
“No,” she said for both of them. “It was too dark to see anything. Now if you’ll excuse us, I must be getting home.” She should have listened to Billy and never called the deputy.
“I can give you a ride, Miss Whitman,” the deputy said formally, as if he just remembered who Lora’s father was.
“Thanks.” Lora smiled. “But since Mr. Hatcher and I are on the same committee, we’ve got a few things to discuss. The walk will do us good.”
The deputy looked as if he might argue. Adams always thought he knew the right thing to do and didn’t mind sharing his knowledge.
“Good night, Officer.” Lora pulled Billy along. “Thank you for your concern.”
They were half a block away before Billy spoke. “I’ve never seen old Adams back down like that.”
“He didn’t have a choice,” she answered. “I’m an adult. I can walk down a public street with whomever I want. I can’t believe he talked to us like we were kids playing on private property.”
Billy laughed. “He’s probably having your commitment papers drawn up right now.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re crazy enough to want to walk down the street with me.”
Lora pictured her mother signing the documents. She wished she could be there when someone told Isadore that Lora had left town with a criminal. Her mother would probably shoot the messenger. She looked at Billy and answered honestly. “But we’re friends.”
“Damn straight,” he said. “Friends.”
Nine
Reverend Micah Parker circled Randi’s bar parking lot twice, unsure what to do. It was almost midnight and this was no place he thought he’d ever be.
He couldn’t miss the Rogers sisters’ van parked sideways in three parking slots. He had no doubt the call from Randi Howard had been real. The woman who’d phoned him must not have been aware of his occupation, since she’d called him mister and not reverend. Would she have asked him to come after the sisters if she’d known?
He thought of what Reverend Milburn would say if his assistant minister was spotted in the town’s wildest bar.
Micah smiled, realizing he didn’t much care. If the Rogers sisters needed help, he’d promised to be there. End of story. He parked next to a huge Dodge pickup covered in mud and got out, pulling his suit coat off. It wouldn’t do to go into a country bar looking like a salesman or, he laughed, like a preacher.
When Micah walked inside, familiar sounds and smells greeted him. Smoke, whiskey, sawdust. The whine of two-stepping music that had been born in this environment and the clink of glasses. Raw laughter crackled within conversations carried at full volume.
Memories flooded his mind. His third year of college Amy had miscarried and couldn’t work for six weeks. He’d taken on another part-time job so he could stay in school. Sweeping up at a bar had been the only thing that fit into his time schedule. When they’d got back on their feet financially, he’d quit. Micah had been surprised how much he missed the people he’d met and watched every night for months. He’d learned that bar lights reveal layers of truth, like a CAT scan. Weaknesses, dreams and heart-aches show up clearly in tobacco-tinted illumination.
His eyes adjusted to the mixture of smoky shadows and twinkling lights along a ceiling covered in beer posters. The place seemed bigger than it appeared to be from the outside. A long mahogany bar ran the length of the far wall. Tables circled round a dance floor on one end, pool tables on the other. Most of the chairs near the dance floor were empty. A group of men played pool. Half of the stools were occupied at the bar.
Most of the men wore Western clothes. A few others looked like oil-field workers who’d put in a full day before stopping by. Muddy boots, Western or Red Wing, were the style. Women mingled among the men. A few looked like they’d lived on murky air way too long, for their faces were pale beneath layers of makeup.
Micah remembered it was Monday night. If this place was like the one he’d worked at, the folks in at this time of night were drinkers, not partiers or fighters. He’d guess they were folks with nowhere else to be and no one waiting for them. They’d finish the night alone with only a six-pack for company.
He noticed a tall woman behind the bar watching him. She had shoulder-length red hair pulled up on one side and an honest face. “You Micah Parker?” She spoke in the same whiskey-smooth voice he’d heard on the phone.
He shook rain from his hair. “I am. Are you Randi with an i?” He felt like a paperback detective.
She nodded. “From the way you’re dressed, you’re not working the oil field or any ranch around, but town folks are welcome here, as well.”
“Correct.” He thought of introducing himself by occupation, but for a moment, he just wanted to be Micah Parker, period. “I’m the designated driver for the Rogers sisters, at your service.”
Randi probably learned a long time ago not to ask too many questions. She pointed toward a beer and raised one eyebrow.
He shook his head. “How’d the sisters end up being your problem tonight?”
“They came in about an hour ago. Appears they had quite a scare today and decided some wine would help them sleep. According to Ada May, they went through every bottle in the house and were still frightened, so they drove over here.”
“They come here often?”
She nodded toward a hairy man serving drinks at the other end of the bar. “Frankie said he’s sold them holiday wine a few times, but they haven’t been in since I bought the place last year.” Randi grinned. “One of the guys over near the pool table commented that they shouldn’t be in a place like this, being retired teachers and all. Beth Ann hit him with her bag. Before I could get around the counter, they’d landed at least a half-dozen blows on other men standing within range.”
Micah fought down a laugh. “I hope no one was hurt.”
“No one that would admit it except Shorty Brown. He claimed a crochet needle poked out of her bag and hit him in the eye.” She leaned a little closer. “If he’d wanted to press charges I’d have had to call the sheriff instead of you.”
“I guess I’d better have a talk with the ladies.” Micah tried not to smile. “Where you got them locked up?”
She lifted the walk-through and motioned him behind the bar. As he passed, he realized she stood even with him. It wasn’t often he saw a woman his height. In the crowded space, she couldn’t step more than a few inches away. He brushed against her as he passed.
Micah kept his gaze steady on her eyes. For a second, their bodies pressed against one another. From the smell of her hair to the softness of her breasts against his arm, he became very aware of her as a woman.
He thought of the bar lights and hoped she couldn’t see too deeply into his thoughts.
“I put them in my office with a bottle of their favorite apricot wine,” Randi said, as though she didn’t notice anything unusual about standing so close to a man she’d just met.
Micah followed her into a small room behind the bar. It had a one-way mirror, so anyone inside could see what was going on at the bar. Papers and notes covered a desk and the safe in one corner sat open. The sisters watched the mirror as if it were a TV. Two empty glasses sat between them.
“Evening, ladies.” Randi greeted them with a smile. “I called your friend. He’ll see you home.”
Ada May giggled. “Evening, Micah. So glad you could join us. Would you like a glass of wine?” She lifted the bottle and refilled her glass to the rim.
“Yes, do have a drink if you’re allowed,” Beth Ann added. “You’ve already seen us home once today. There’s really no need to worry about us. I’m still sober enough to drive.”
Ada May downed her glass and tried to disguise a burp by coughing. She smiled up at Micah with half-closed eyes and said, “I do love apricots.” Suddenly her head hit the desk with a thud. She was out cold.
Beth Ann shook her finger at her sleeping sister. “She’s such an embarrassment. Can’t hold her liquor any better than our father could.”
Micah knelt in front of Beth Ann. “Would you like me to help you get her home? I won’t mind. I’m already here.”
“You’re a fine man.” Beth Ann nodded, almost falling out of her chair. “I may need some assistance. Ada May is no light load when she’s out.”
A few minutes later, Micah pulled his car around to the back door. Randi guided Beth Ann. As the younger of the two old maids slid into the back seat, she noticed her clothes had gotten rained on and proceeded to take them off. Micah helped the hairy bartender named Frankie half carry, half drag Ada May to the car. Beth Ann had been accurate. Ada May was no light load when she was out cold.
Micah put her into the front seat and turned to Randi, who stood across the car from him. “I’m not driving home alone with one sister out cold and the other stripping in the back seat. You’ve got to take pity on me.”
He must have looked helpless, because Randi shoved wet hair from her face and gave in. “All right, coward.” She glanced at the man standing in the doorway. “Frankie, close up for me, would you?”
The man nodded and disappeared.
When she looked back at Micah, she laughed. “I’ll go along with you, but I got to tell you, Mr. Parker, you disappoint me. I would have thought you man enough to handle two women at the same time.”
He didn’t acknowledge her humor as he held the door open. “You ride in the back with the stripper.”
She splashed through the mud and climbed in.
Halfway home, Ada May woke up enough to vomit. Twice.
Getting the sisters inside and in bed proved to be a greater chore than Micah could have imagined. Several times, he thanked Randi for coming along. He couldn’t have done it without her. Ada May insisted on brushing her teeth before turning in, but she wasn’t stable enough on her feet to stand. They all crowded into the tiny bathroom. Micah held her up, his arms locked just below her ample breasts. Randi helped her hit her mouth with the toothbrush.
By the time they finished, Randi and he were both laughing so hard, Micah couldn’t catch his breath. They collapsed on a worn couch in the small cluttered living room.
“You think you had a problem with Ada May.” Randi slugged him with one of the dozen pillows surrounding them. “You should have tried to get Beth Ann’s support hose off.”
Micah surrendered. “You win. I haven’t put a drunk to bed since my college days, and if I don’t do it again in this lifetime it will be too soon.” He stood and offered his hand to help her up. They walked out the front door and onto an equally cluttered porch.
Two lawn chairs had been pushed close with a TV tray table in between them. An old, handmade backgammon board rested open on the table. Randi picked up a piece of the game. “Ada May told me tonight that the last thing they do every night is play one game. Whoever loses has to turn out the lights. Sometimes they argue over who won.” Randi stared at Micah. “On those nights, the lights stay on till morning.”
She tossed the chip to him. He placed it back on the board. “Stubborn women,” he said more to himself than her.
“That’s why it surprises me they were so shaken by what happened today.”
He had no answer. For a few minutes they both watched a car pass down the rain-swollen street.
Randi took a long breath. “I love the rain.” She held her hand out to touch a tiny waterfall sliding off the roof.
Micah raised his hand, almost touching her hair. Moisture sparkled in it like silver glitter.
She glanced at him with eyes the green of a dense forest. “What?”
