A Wish and a Prayer (12 page)

“What's this for?”

“Our brunch. I swung by the rec and grabbed a pair of your sneakers out of your locker. They're in that sports bag.”

She was impressed by his forethought. “You really did have a plan.”

“Told you.”

She took the sneaks out of the bag, put them on instead of the Choos—nothing worse than attempting to walk on spring-softened earth in five-inch heels—and followed Mal to the bank to begin the Bernadine Brown Mental Health Day.

A short while later, they had the blanket spread out and were sitting on it, sipping cold water from bottles he'd taken from the cooler. “I've never been in a high-speed chase before,” she said.

He chuckled.

“You obviously learned to drive from Tamar.”

Before he could offer a reply, they were interrupted by the buzz of her phone. She glanced at the caller ID. “It's Will Dalton.”

She and the sheriff chatted for a few minutes before she ended the call, sighing.

“What did he say?”

“They traced the call to a phone booth at a gas station up on 183. Manager didn't remember seeing anybody suspicious around the time the call came to me, and his outside security cam's busted, so Will's people can't get a look at any images it may have caught.”

“That's disappointing.”

She agreed. “Secondly, Kyle's buddies at the Bureau won't be able to get to the voice print for at least another ten days. Some big-ticket case they received this morning bumped us out of line, but they promised they'd get to it soon as they're able.”

“Don't worry. Dalton will figure it out,” he said supportively.

“I know. I just wish we had an answer now.”

“Well, let's put that aside for now and see if we can catch us something to eat.”

“I know you didn't bring me out here to go fishing in this suit.”

“You're so beautiful when you're angry.”

She punched him again.

“No, I'm going to do the fishing. You're going to sit on the blanket and look gorgeous.”

“That I can do.”

B
ack in town at the Marie Jefferson Academy, the We're So Slick Gang didn't feel so slick by the time lunch rolled around. Leah carried her salad over to the picnic table where they'd gathered and sat down. Taking in the gloomy faces, she asked, “What did you all do to make Mr. James so mad that he gave you that messed-up term paper assignment and made you paint the fence?”

The boys shot Crystal a dirty look, after which Preston explained, “We got busted for having those secret e-mail accounts, like that kid you told us about.”

“You actually did it? Didn't I tell you the kid got caught by his parents? I wondered why my dad asked me about that last night.” Leah's story about a teen in Baltimore who'd successfully pulled off the ruse for nearly a year had intrigued them all. “I can't believe y'all are that dumb.”

“Me, either,” Preston sadly agreed. He wasn't looking forward to more painting after school.

“I can,” Tiff chimed in, and was roundly ignored.

Amari cracked, “If it hadn't been for Ms. I'm Hot for Diego—”

“Shut up, Amari,” Crystal snarled.

And he did, which surprised Preston. Then again, Amari probably sensed that Crystal was about two seconds from kicking major butt from having people in her face all morning, and although he'd grown a lot taller over the winter, Crystal could probably still whip him like he was Devon's size.

Leah raised an eyebrow. “Diego? Diego July?”

Crystal concentrated on the straw in her soda and didn't reply.

“You know he's probably just playing you, right?”

“Exactly,” Eli said, throwing up his hands. “Finally a girl with some sense. Will you marry me, Leah, please?”

She answered with a roll of her eyes. “I'm not marrying you. Artists starve, and so do their wives. Even if I do get married, and I'm not, it would be to somebody like Preston. He's smart, and physicists make big bank.”

Preston coughed so hard he thought he might need his inhaler. When he turned his widened eyes to Leah, she smiled and gave him a cute little wink that set him wheezing. Amari pounded on his back.

“You okay, man?”

Still in the throes of the coughing fit, he pulled out his inhaler, gave himself a few puffs, and got some relief. “I think I choked on a piece of carrot.”

When he glanced Leah's way, she was eating and acting as if nothing had happened.

“Let's change the subject,” he said around the tangle in his throat. “So who do you think made that messed-up call to Ms. Bernadine?”

Leah shook her head. “My dad talked about that this morning, too. He said if we see anything suspicious, to let somebody know.”

Amari said, “What's really messed up is that it could be anybody. Lots of folks are mad at her for trying to do the right thing. The Big Box lawyers, Mr. Brown, that wack oil company, and everybody in Franklin, seems like.”

Devon had been sitting quietly but asked with concern, “Is somebody really going to kill her?”

Preston shook his head. “I don't think anybody's going to allow that, Devon.”

“Especially not us,” Amari pledged. “Messing with her will get somebody jacked—they better ask somebody.”

Ms. Brown meant so much to everybody, Preston couldn't imagine what would happen if somebody did hurt her. Like the rest of the people in Henry Adams, he was worried.

Devon said, “I want to be in Henry Adams Idol.”

Amari shrugged. “Okay. Go for it.”

“I need help.”

“What kind of help?”

“I want you and Preston and Eli to be my Flames.”

A confused Preston met the eyes of the equally confused-looking Amari. “Are you talking about real flames, as in fire?”

“No. I want to be James Brown. His backup singers were called the Flames.”

Leah asked, “James Brown, that old dead guy?”

Crystal got up from the table. “I'll see you all later. I'm not in this.”

“Why do you want to be him?” Preston asked, wondering if they should all maybe follow Crystal.

“Because he's cool, and he was my grandma's favorite soul singer.”

They were staring at him as if he were from Mars.

Devon explained, “All you have to sing is ‘Please, please don't go.' I do the rest. Somebody has to put the cape on me, though.”

Eli asked skeptically. “Cape?”

“Like Batman?” Amari asked.

“No!” Devon said in a frustrated voice. “Don't y'all know anything?”

Amari cracked, “I know I'm not being a Flame.”

Tiff snapped. “Stop being so mean. He's your little brother. You're supposed to be helping him.”

“And you're supposed to be keeping your nose out of my business.”

“Cretin!”

“Brat!”

“Both of you cut it out!” Leah yelled.

Preston was pretty sure Amari didn't know what the word
cretin
meant, but if it came out of Tiff's mouth, he knew it wasn't a compliment.

While Amari and Tiff engaged in a battle of mean mugging, Eli asked Devon, “Is there a YouTube of this guy we can look at?”

“Yeah, probably. He's in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame.”

“But we can't access any electronics, remember?” Preston pointed out. He couldn't dance or sing, and he had no interest in flames or capes.

“But Idol isn't until July,” Eli countered. “We get our stuff back in two weeks. That's plenty of time.”

“My grandma said Michael Jackson copied the moonwalk from James Brown.”

“I didn't know that,” Leah responded, looking impressed.

When no one pledged to commit, Devon pleaded, “Please, be my Flames. I'll never ask for anything again for the rest of my life. I promise.”

“Yeah, right,” Amari responded, sounding unimpressed. “Let me think about it.”

Devon grinned. “Okay. Thanks.” He left the table and went back to the school building.

Preston asked, “Are you really going to think about it?”

“If I don't, he'll just whine to Mom, and she'll
suggest
I do it anyway. I think I hate having a little brother.”

“But's he's so cute,” Leah cooed.

“Uh-huh.”

Preston knew that if Miss Lily made Amari be a Flame, Amari would convince him to throw in. Preston thought he hated Amari having a little brother, too.

Leah said, “I think it's nice that you're going to do this.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

When Preston and the others saw Mr. James waving their way, they gathered up their stuff and left the picnic table to return to class. On the way, Preston glanced hesitantly over at Leah, but she was talking to her sister and didn't seem to notice him. She wasn't hot like Megan Fox or Beyoncé, but she was nice, liked sports, and was super smart. In his book that made her a babe. He kept hearing her say she wanted to marry someone like him. He knew she'd been generalizing, but that she'd actually thought of him in those terms was thrilling for a fourteen-year-old kid who wanted to pursue physics as a way of life and who'd never had a girlfriend.

A
t three o'clock that afternoon, Bernadine and Mal were seated side by side on the blanket. They'd grilled and eaten the fish he caught, flown their kites, and enjoyed each other's company and the day. A call to Tamar confirmed that the press was no longer out on the road, and another call to Lily revealed that there weren't any reporters hanging around the Power Plant or the Dog either. Apparently they'd grown tired of waiting and left town to besiege other prey. Bernadine was pleased. “I've had a great time, Mal.”

“Good. We need to do this more often.”

She studied him silently, seeing everything she'd hoped to see in the hypothetical man of her dreams. “Are we heading for marriage?”

He shrugged. “Are we?”

“I asked myself the question the other day, and to be truthful, I don't know if that's what I want. I know I want you in my life forever, lord willing, but we've both been single for so long—I don't know. Maybe I'm not explaining myself well.”

He seemed to be concentrating on something off in the distance only he could see.

“I haven't hurt your feelings, have I?”

He gently covered her hand with his. “No, darlin', you haven't. Just thinking over what you said. Appreciate the honesty, by the way.”

He remained quiet for a little while longer, then said, “I want whatever you want.”

“Mal, you need to be honest, too.”

“I am, and in a way, I'm kind of relieved, to tell you the truth. I love you like I love breathing, baby girl, but I don't think either of us is ready to have somebody underfoot twenty-four/seven, three-sixty-five for the next twenty or thirty years. You know we Julys live a long time. After Crystal goes away to school and you and I get a chance to really hang out, maybe we'll change our minds about this. For now, though, I want what you want. We can let the future take care of itself.”

She slipped her fingers into his and leaned her head against his shoulder. I love you.”

“You'd better.”

That short talk and the loving kiss that followed sealed their hearts and commitment to each other.

Chapter 13

M
al dropped Bernadine at her house so she could retrieve her truck and then followed her over to the Power Plant parking lot. Only after he watched her go inside did he pull off and drive away.

Just as Lily said, there were no reporters either outside or in, so Bernadine entered her office, glad to be free of them. She gave herself a few quiet minutes to sit and think about how blessed she was to have Mal in her life, then prepared to start turning the world.

Apparently, Gary Clark had stopped in earlier; she found a note from him on her desk. Attached to the note was a sample of the grocery survey he would be handing out to everyone at the Friday-night movies. She was scanning through it when the landline rang. The memory of last night sprang to life, and she tensed and waited for it to go to voice mail. To her relief the caller was Greer Parker from CNN. Surprised to hear from him, she picked up before he could finish his message. “Hello, Mr. Parker. How've you been?”

They chatted for a moment while she prayed he wasn't calling about the threat she'd received. “So what can I do for you?” she asked, hoping her voice was light.

“All the news outlets were given a call a little while ago from Heather Quinn.”

“Why's that name familiar?'

“Quinn's the president of Folks United for Animals.”

“Those silly animal rights people?” She was confused. “What's this have to do with me?”

“She's in Henry Adams.”

“Really? Why?”

And what he shared made her almost fall off her chair. “FUFA's representing Cletus!”

“Yes, ma'am.”

“Lord have mercy,” she whispered.

“I'm wondering if you have a place that my camera crew and I can lease for our stay?”

“Stay?”

“Yep. We're coming in to cover the hearing.”

“Oh, my goodness.” All manner of insane scenarios began filling her head, rendering her speechless for a moment.

“Ms. Brown? You still there?”

“I'm sorry, yes.” She told him about the empty trailer on Tamar's land. Parker had been very instrumental in her purchase of Henry Adams and the subsequent search for foster parents for her kids. Offering him and his people a place to stay was the least she could do to reward him for his many kindnesses—but FUFA and Riley, together, Holy Ghost help us!

She and Parker finished pulling together the arrangements for his arrival, and with a thank-you, she hung up. Immediately afterward she dialed Lily, who was out at the church construction site. And when she came on the line, Bernadine said, “Girl, you are not going to believe this.”

For the rest of the afternoon, she fielded calls from the press, both local and national, about the upcoming hearing. So many came through that she finally sent them all to voice mail, so she could get some work done. She'd play them back in the morning, but the entire time, all she could think about was the circus that would be coming to town, with Riley as the ringleader.

A
fter school Jack drove down to Fort Hays University to meet with the chair of the physics department. The graduate student who'd worked with Preston and Leah last year had left the university over the winter to begin work on her doctorate at one of the big schools on the East Coast. The meeting would be to talk about replacing her. It was important to Jack and Marie that Preston and Leah continue to be challenged and get the best support they could as they prepared for college.

The meeting went well, he spoke with a couple of potential candidates, and two hours later, he was on Highway 183 again, heading north for home. There was virtually no traffic, a fact that always amazed him, as did the miles and miles of open land that stretched to the horizon on either side of the highway. After driving for decades in southern California, it had taken him a while to get used to the emptiness of the Kansas countryside, but he'd adjusted and now enjoyed the relatively stress-free travel.

It began to rain as he approached the small town of Plainville, and then pour buckets. Turning on his wipers, he decreased his speed as a precautionary measure and concentrated on driving safely so he would make it home in one piece.

He came up behind a battered, slow-moving pickup piled high with baled hay. The unsecured load was wobbling back and forth as if threatening to spill out onto the two-lane road, so Jack inched his car out a bit to the left and peered through his wipers to check for oncoming traffic, hoping to pass. In that half second, the truck lost its load, and huge bales of hay were bouncing around on the road in front of him. Panicked, he steered sharply to the left to avoid running into them. The car spun on the rain-slick pavement like an ice skater in the Olympics, then barreled off the road and tumbled down the embankment into the wire fencing strung along the adjacent field. The air bag deployed, and that was the last thing he remembered before the world faded to black.

J
ack hated hospitals. They all reminded him of the eternity he'd spent sitting in them while Eva was fighting for her life. Radiation. Chemo. Experimental protocols. She'd been fearless. He'd been terrified.

And now here he sat in the ER of the Hays hospital with a broken left wrist and stitches in his forehead, waiting to be released. The trucker who'd come upon the accident scene had called 911 and stayed with him until an ambulance arrived. Jack had regained consciousness, but the pickup that caused the crash apparently never stopped.

An hour later, Jack and his cast, sling, stitches, and vial of prescription pain meds were given the okay to go home. He'd put in a call to Eli earlier, and after assuring his son he was okay, asked that Eli call Trent or someone to come and pick him up. So far, no one had shown.

He supposed he could call a cab, but the reality of what it would cost for a ride home from Hays made the frugal Bostonian he'd grown up as cringe. There were no other options, so he pulled out his phone and, balancing it precariously in his injured hand, hit the app for directory assistance.

While he was waiting for it to come up, Rocky walked in. He was so surprised he fumbled the phone and dropped it. Further fumbling to retrieve it and cursing himself for looking like such an idiot, he asked with wonder, “Somebody you know in the hospital?”

“Yes. You. Eli said you needed a ride.”

“Eli?”

“Tall kid. Looks a lot like his father.”

Jack dropped his head in amused chagrin. When he raised it again, she was smiling.

“Ready to go?”

He nodded.

For the first few miles, they drove through the pitch-black night in a silence gently broken by the jazz playing through the speakers. He was still amazed by her presence. “Why'd you come?”

“Eli said you needed an assist. Friends look out for friends.”

“Is that what we are, you and I, friends?”

“I think it's a good place to start.” She looked over at him, riding shotgun. “No?”

“Yes. Definitely.” Because of the darkness in the cab, it was difficult to assess her reaction to his reply, but he sensed she was pleased. “I think my car's totaled.”

“You needed a new one anyway.”

He chuckled softly. No sympathy there. “The deputy who took the accident report said he'd call in the morning and let me know where it's towed.”

Silence settled in again, and he turned to view the darkness out his window. “What was it like, growing up out here as a kid?”

She didn't respond, and just before he thought she hadn't because he'd unwittingly offended her in some way, she said quietly, “Hard. Very hard, but we'll talk about that sometime. Right now, let's just enjoy the drive, the company, and listen to some jazz.”

Her enigmatic answer notwithstanding, Jack thought that a grand idea.

An hour later, she pulled into his driveway. Even though it was nearly midnight, he didn't want the ride to end. They hadn't spoken much, but as on the evening they'd spent together at the Dog, conversation hadn't seemed necessary. It was as if the vibe and being together were all that mattered, and he'd enjoyed both immensely.

However, his desire to remain in her company notwithstanding, they both had responsibilities to meet in the morning, so he reluctantly opened the door and got out. “Thanks again, Rock.”

“Get some rest, Professor, and take care of that wrist. If you or Eli need anything, give me a call.”

The offer sent him soaring. “We still on for Saturday morning?”

“Yes. Now go in, before Lily comes out on the porch and starts yelling at me about my engine waking up the neighborhood.”

The truck did have a powerful bass rumble. “Night, Rocky.”

She nodded in parting.

He stood in the circle of her headlights as she backed down the driveway and drove away.

When he went inside, the sight of Eli passed out on the couch brought on a smile.
Must've tried to stay up and wait for his old man.

Jack leaned down and jostled him gently. “Eli. Wake up, son.”

A few more shakes, and the lids raised drunkenly.

“Go on to bed. Thanks for waiting up.”

“You okay?” he slurred.

He showed him the sling and cast.

Eli sat up and rubbed his eyes. “Rock bring you home?”

“Yeah. Thanks for looking out.”

“You're welcome. Going to bed.” Stumbling like a zombie, he left the room.

A very contented Jack checked the doors, doused the lights, and followed his son up the stairs. After downing another pain med, he fell into bed.

S
eated on the bed in her small, sad little motel room, Heather Quinn couldn't believe she'd taken on the Cletus case. The hog was mean, its owner insane, but the legal issues seemed solid. She'd taken a look at the Cletus and Chocolate wedding video. By all rights the ceremony was as laughable as it was appalling, but a viral YouTube video was priceless for PR purposes, and at this point she needed anything she could get her hands on to get this campaign under way. The home office in Dayton confirmed that e-mails had gone out to all the major media outlets, both online and off. Their interest and coverage would be crucial. Her personal distaste for Cletus aside, the hog had been defending itself when it crushed that man to death, and it was her plan to get America to agree that no animal, no matter its temperament, should have to pay for that with its life. The hearing was scheduled for Monday morning. She just hoped Curry had been truthful about the details of the event. This being a referee-type hearing and not a human court case, she wasn't sure if the FUFA lawyers could ask to see what kind of evidence the county had that might prove Riley wrong, so she'd have to keep her fingers crossed on that one. She glanced down at the bandage on her hand, shook her head with irritation, and picked up her phone to try and round up some volunteers to start picketing the courthouse in the morning. She also needed to rent a car so she could speak with some of the locals. She'd planned on Curry being her main means of transportation during her stay, but not anymore. Having met him, she wanted to spend as little time with Riley as possible. The same held true for his pig.

B
ernadine had breakfast with Mal the following morning.

“How you doing?” he asked as he slid into the booth.

She shrugged. “So-so, I guess. I didn't sleep well.”

“After a high-speed chase and all that fresh air yesterday, I'd've thought you'd've slept like a baby.”

She offered him a tiny smile while slowly stirring her coffee. “Bad dreams. All I can remember is being chased by somebody wearing one of the stupid V masks. You know, from the movie. Sounds silly now, but I woke up in the middle of the night, terrified.”

“I'm sorry.”

She waved him off. “It's okay. I'll be fine once I get to the office.”

He didn't look as if he believed her, but she was thankful he didn't say anything more, because she didn't want to talk about it.

She saw Jack come in with his arm in a sling. “What happened to him?”

“Totaled his car.”

He told her what Rocky had shared that morning when she came in for work.

“Shouldn't he be home in bed?”

Mal shook his head with apparent amusement. “He's okay.”

Bernadine wasn't sure, and made a mental note to talk to Jack later to see if he needed help scoring a new vehicle.

Their food arrived, and as they ate, the place began to fill. She saw Bing and Clay, Lily and Trent, and Warren Kelly and some of the construction workers. Many of the other diners were familiar, and over the course of the meal a few of the farmers who'd been plaintiffs in the case against Leo's oil company came over to thank her again for her help with the lawsuit, and to denounce whoever was behind the threatening call she'd received.

Bing stopped by, too. “Don't worry, Bernadine. Whoever it is will be caught. Just hope it's by Will Dalton and not one of us, because there might not be enough left to prosecute.”

“You got that right.” Mal toasted him with a raised glass of orange juice.

“Thanks, Bing, but I don't want to have to scrape together bail money for you.”

“Everybody knows you got it, so we'll be looking to be bailed out right quick.”

“Okay,” she replied, chuckling.

The visits from the farmers brought to mind the troubled Al Stillwell, and she turned serious. “I want to go visit the Stillwells, Mal.”

“Why?”

“I'd like to pay his daughter's tuition, if that will help the family.”

“It'll help, but he won't take your money.”

“Reason being?”

“Pride, and that he blames you for the oil company backing out.”

“Okay, but will you ride with me anyway, so I can try and talk to him?”

“He's not going to talk to you, baby girl, believe me.” He eyed her for a moment. “You still feeling guilty?”