Butterfly Lane (3 page)

Chapter Three

B
y the time she was back in her bed late on Christmas Day, Zanny was exhausted. It had been one of the best Christmases she could remember having, even considering her grandmother’s poor health. She’d spent most of the last few days with the Campbells, taking a much-needed break from caring for her grandmother all the time. Her father, an over-the-road truck driver, had come in off the road and had actually been kind for once.

“I think he has a sweetheart who’s been working on him,” Gran had confided. “Whatever the reason, I’m glad to see him actually being civil.”

Zanny had agreed and was more than happy to let someone else carry the load. She didn’t stop worrying about how things would be after he left, but she was able to enjoy the time while he was there. The fact that she’d been able to spend several days around John, on whom she’d had a crush ever since he’d sat with her outside the principal’s office the day she’d met him, had just been icing on the cake—even if he had acted strangely the whole time.

John had grown into a stunningly handsome man. Zanny wasn’t surprised, given that his parents were so attractive and he was the perfect blend of the two of them. He had his mother’s coloring, dark chocolate-brown hair and blue eyes as well as his father’s warm skin tone and even features. Zanny worried her crush had deepened over the past few days into borderline obsession.

“He’s hot for you, I’m telling you,” Emma had insisted as she’d walked Zanny home earlier that day. “You wait and see. As soon as you’re legal, he’ll be at the door with flowers in hand.”

Zanny didn’t believe it for a second, but as she drifted off to sleep, she let herself pretend Emma was right.

The next morning, life returned to reality with a resounding crash. Zanny was making breakfast, humming as she prepared creamed wheat and scrambled eggs for her grandmother.

“You’re awfully cheerful this morning,” Gran remarked with a smile as Zanny handed her a mug of hot tea. “Did you have a good time up at the Campbells’?”

Zanny’s father, Dennis, came into the kitchen in time to hear the remark. He scowled. “She spends too much time with those damned Campbells. That’s all I hear about when I come home. Campbell this, Campbell that. You need to find some new friends.” He sat down at the table and helped himself to the bacon and eggs Zanny had fixed for herself.

Quietly seething, Zanny took fresh eggs out of the refrigerator and started scrambling them. She would have to make due with just the eggs and toast since Dennis had taken the last of the bacon.

“The Campbells are good people,” Gran told him firmly. “I won’t hear you talk bad about them. They help out a lot here when you’re on the road. It’s been a blessing to have them nearby.”

“They act like they own the damned place. I know how men like Owen Campbell work. They like to play lord of the manor. Just because he owns most of two damned mountains, he thinks he’s king. Lords it over us lowly little holler rats.”

Zanny’s temper got the best of her, and she whirled around, spatula in hand. Some of the eggs were still clinging to it, and they flew across the small table to land on her father’s plate. She realized her mistake almost immediately, but was helpless to prevent the words from spilling out. “They’re a damned sight better than you. Most of the time, you can’t even be bothered to remember to send money for groceries and the lights without us tracking you down. Owen and Sarah care more about what happens to us than you ever have.”

When her father slowly stood, a look of angry disgust on his face, she took a step back. The back of her arm hit the hot cast iron skillet, and she jumped, but she didn’t take her eyes off Dennis’s face.

“You ungrateful little whelp. You’re just like your mother. I work my ass off to keep food on your table and a roof over your head, and this is how I’m repaid?” He swiped his arm across the table, clearing it of everything except the plastic Tupperware salt shaker. He edged around the table, stopping only a bare inch away from Zanny, who kept her eyes on his chest.

“You’re awfully brave when there’s a table between us, but you won’t even raise your eyes to me now, will you?” He lifted his hand with a swiftness that caused her to loose a tiny shriek, but he didn’t hit her. Instead, he laughed, and the sound was a cruel and harsh reminder of how inadequate he had found her through the years. “Clean up this mess you’ve made. I’ve got to pack so I can get back on the road.”

For a long minute after the bedroom door slammed behind Dennis, neither Zanny nor her grandmother moved. Very carefully, as soon as she could do it without whimpering, Zanny put down the spatula. She turned off the burner underneath the now-blackened eggs and used a dishrag to protect her hand from the hot handle of the skillet when she moved it to the back burner. It would have to cool down before she attempted to clean it, or else it would burn a hole clean through the sink bottom.

“Oh, Zanny, why do you antagonize him so?” her grandmother asked, her voice low. “You know how he gets.”

The flash of anger that the words sent through her surprised Zanny, because she had heard the refrain time and time again. Zanny had long ago given up on her grandmother ever seeing that the problem was Dennis, not her. She didn’t say anything, though. Making her father angry was one thing. But she couldn’t make her grandmother mad. She’d been pissing off Dennis her whole life, it seemed, just for existing. But even if Ruth hadn’t been sick, Zanny never would have spoken back to her. Her father had made her all too aware that if she ever became a troublemaker for her grandmother, Zanny would find herself out on the streets. He’d been succinct the last time Zanny had stood up to him.

“I wouldn’t put up with that shit from your mother, and I won’t put up with it from you, no matter how much your grandmother says you help out around the house, which I have my doubts about.”

Zanny had no illusions about her lovability, either to her family or to anyone else. Between her father’s tirades and the fact that her mother had left the family without so much as a backward glance when Zanny was seven, she knew she was all too easy to walk away from. If push came to shove, she had no faith that her grandmother would chose her over Dennis.

As she set about cleaning up the mess, she wondered just how he would make her pay this time. After the last time they’d clashed, he’d “forgotten” to send money for nearly three months. Zanny had been forced to appeal to their pastor, who’d loaned her enough funds to buy groceries and pay the electric bill. He’d offered to just give it to them, but Zanny didn’t want to be beholden. Owing people meant they had power over her, and her father had enough of that. She wasn’t about to give someone else that kind of control if she could help it.

She knew that if worse came to worst, she could probably get help at the food stamp office. The pastor had offered to take her the last time, but her grandmother had been so horrified by the idea, Zanny had given it up. It would have given her some peace of mind, but it wasn’t worth the upset to her grandmother.

As she dumped the broken plates and mugs in the garbage, she thought that maybe it would be a good idea to see if she could get assistance without her grandmother finding out. With winter being upon them, the electric bill was already higher than usual. If her father didn’t send money and the power got shut off, with the state of her grandmother’s health, going without heat could very well do the old woman in.

She decided to call the pastor first thing after her father left, and see if he would take her to town and talk to the people at the welfare office for her. Zanny was no longer willing to live at the mercy of her father’s temper. She couldn’t afford to lose her grandmother over his fits of pique.

She also resolved to apologize to him before he left—even if it killed every bit of pride she had.

Chapter Four

June 1982

Z
anny’s feet ached as if someone had taken a cane to their bottoms, but she maintained her smile as she waited on the customers standing in line. It wasn’t their fault she’d been on her feet since six that morning. A quick glance at the clock told her that she had five more minutes to go before she clocked out for the day. Two o’clock couldn’t get there soon enough.

“Zanny, I’ll take care of these folks. Do you mind getting Mr. Combs’s sandwich ready? You know he likes the way you fix it better than the rest of us, and he’ll be here soon.”

“Of course.” Silas Combs was one of Zanny’s favorite customers. He always came by the small grocery store located just past the mouth of Firefly Hollow on the days she worked to get a ham-and-cheese sandwich.

“You put something special in it. Tastes better than what those other girls make,” he would tell her.

Zanny knew that wasn’t true, but she wasn’t about to correct him. Instead, she would wink and tell him the special ingredient was love. Her words never failed to make him smile.

When the bell over the door rang, she figured it was Silas coming for his sandwich. But when she turned around, she saw that he wasn’t alone. He was chatting with a tall, dark-haired man. Her heart skipped a beat at the sight of John Campbell.

Her mouth dry, her heart fluttering, she finished Silas’s sandwich and wrapped it up. She washed her hands in the small sink, then stepped up to the counter just as the men approached.

“Look who I found,” Silas teased, clapping his hand on John’s shoulder. “He just got back from school and stopped to pick up a soda-pop. Tell you what, young man, I’ll make it my treat.” He turned to Jewel, who was minding the cash register. “Put it on my tab.”

John thanked him then nodded at Zanny. “Hi.”

“Hi. Did you just get in?”

“Yeah. Thought I’d stop by before I head up the mountain, get something to drink.”

An awkward pause stretched between them as Zanny tried to figure out how to get her mouth to work. Jewel finally stepped into the silence.

“Zanny’s getting ready to clock out and head home. You should give her a ride. She hasn’t had a chance to sit down at all today.”

“Sure. I’d be glad to.”

Zanny knew her face had to be glowing red with embarrassment, but she smiled. “I’ll get my purse.”

When she came back out, John and Silas were chatting outside. John was leaned up against the front of Silas’s truck, his jean-clad legs crossed at his ankles. The sight of him in the faded denim jeans and white T-shirt that fit him like a glove was nearly enough to make Zanny’s heart stop. She did her best to disguise her reaction.

John straightened when he saw her. “Mr. Combs, I’ll drop by one day later this week, say hello to Mrs. Combs. Thanks for the pop.” They shook hands, and John escorted her to his little red hatchback. He closed the door gently behind her, then came around to the driver’s side and folded himself behind the wheel.

“How long have you been working here?” he asked as he pulled out onto the main road, downshifting smoothly.

“Since right after Gran went.”

“I’m sorry about that, by the way. I would have driven down if I could have.”

“I know. Thanks for the letter.” Back in January, Zanny’s grandmother had finally lost her battle with the chronic illness that had plagued her for the last five years of her life. It had happened during one of the biggest snowstorms to hit the region since 1978, and they’d had to delay services for a couple of weeks until Dennis could get in. “I understood why you couldn’t come in.”

She grimaced as she shifted in the seat. Her feet felt as if they were on fire and weighed fifty pounds each. Usually, she was able to move around throughout the day, restocking and dusting the shelves, but she’d been stuck behind the counter all day.

John eyed her with speculation. “You okay?”

“Yes. Just tired. I’m looking forward to soaking my feet when I get in.”

John pulled up in the short driveway in front of the trailer Zanny had shared with her father since her grandmother’s death. He glanced at his watch. “Tell you what—why don’t you head up to the pool? You can soak your legs and your feet there.” He was referring to a small, natural pool on his parents’ land where the kids had all congregated during the summer months after they were old enough to safely do so.

“That does sound nice. I don’t want to impose, though.”

Quirking an eyebrow, John shook his head. “Suzanna D’lores,” he chided, using the pronunciation she’d used when she was seven and unable to say her middle name properly, “you’re not still spouting that excuse. I know you’re not.”

Zanny laughed and reached for the door handle. “Fine, I’ll go wallow in the pool. Thanks for the ride. It’s good to see you again, John.”

“Back at you. Wear a bathing suit. I may join you.” He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. “I’d suggest you skinny dip, but Dad and the girls may want to come down with me.”

Shocked, Zanny just lightly smacked his arm. “Shame on you.”

“Get on inside. I’ll see you in a bit.”

Zanny managed to hold her excitement together until she got inside the trailer, safely out of sight, before she did a happy little dance, sore feet notwithstanding. She still didn’t believe Emma’s theory about John being attracted to her, but she was very much looking forward to spending some uncomplicated time with him.

The fact that he would be shirtless and wet didn’t factor into her excitement.

“Oh, no, not at all.” She giggled as she hurried to her bedroom to change clothes.