Deadly Sanctuary (24 page)

By the time Bonnie and Tom had packed their car and left for their home in Prescott, it was well past ten. Bed sounded pretty good to me, but Nona insisted I stay and see more of the momentos from her days on the Broadway stage.

“Humor her, will ya, love,” Ginger muttered under her breath as we followed Nona’s wheelchair down the hallway. During my first visit, Ginger had described Nona’s room as a museum and it certainly was. I didn’t have to feign interest and felt genuinely astounded as she directed Ginger to pull carefully preserved costumes from a spacious cedar closet. A strong odor of mothballs permeated the room, making me sneeze several times.

Nona’s withered face beamed with pride as she recounted each role she had played. The closet was crammed with boxes of wigs, hats and shoes, jars of theater makeup, photos, and piles of yellowing fan letters.

“This is fantastic,” I said to Nona while running my hand over a green velvet gown. “I wish I could have seen you perform.”

“I got to admit, I was pretty good,” she said tucking the photos away in a shoe box.

I thanked everyone for allowing me to share their special evening and Ginger linked arms with me as we walked outside. The night was muggy and still. Not even a whisper of wind relieved the oppressive air. Greenish heat lightning flashed dimly on the horizon.

I remarked again how fortunate Bonnie and Tom were. Not only had they weathered the emotional storm, they’d also managed to come up with the additional funds needed to complete the adoption. It was then Ginger confided that she and Nona had given them money also, and that the total dollar amount had come to forty-five thousand.

I was aghast. “Forty-five thousand dollars! Are you sure about that?”

“Is a frog’s ass water tight? Of course I’m sure.”

“I can’t believe they paid that much for a baby!”

“It’s over and done with, sugar. Let’s talk about you and Tally. He looked like he was a fixin’ to chew the head off a goat when I walked in on the two of you.”

I explained what had happened and she remarked, “Y’all ain’t going to the barbecue? Well, no wonder he’s mad at you. That’s one of the biggest shindigs of the year.”

“I know, I know. It was so stupid. But it was an honest mistake. Tally didn’t really ask me like it was a date or something. I thought it was a drop by thing, you know? I’ll scoot out there after dinner.”

“So, how you gonna square that with Eric?”

“I hope he’ll understand. Boy, I wish I hadn’t gotten myself mixed up with two guys. It has really complicated my life.”

“Well, for pity’s sake, if you ain’t the one. I have never in all my born days seen anybody kick up such a fuss about having two boyfriends.”

“It’s not just that. I’m caught right in the middle of two people who despise each other. I may throw them both back.”

Ginger gaped. “You’ve slipped over the edge, girl.”

I laughed at her remark. “I’m not sure what to do. Eric is coming on like gang busters and Tally acts as though he’d like to lasso me with a rope and put the Starfire brand on me.”

The dim glow from the porch light illuminated her face just enough for me to make out the impish gleam in her eyes. “Well, sugar pie, I can think of a lot worse things than being lassoed by a man like Tally. Far as I’m concerned, he can park his boots under my bed any ol’ night.”

“Ginger,” I cried, in mock horror. “I’m shocked! I thought Doug Sauers was the love of your life.”

Her infectious giggle filled the night air. “Well, now don’t have a hissy fit. There ain’t no harm in taking a peek at a good-looking man. And speaking of good-looking, where’s Mr. Dreamboat taking you for supper on Friday?”

I told her I wasn’t sure, and then she asked me how my interview had gone at the shelter. She listened intently, and said she was looking forward to reading my article. I knew there would be at least two other people in town anxious to read it. I wished I could be there to study Claudia and Roy’s faces when they got the morning edition. Ginger and I hugged good-night and I left.

At home again, I checked for messages and found none. It was puzzling why the Mexican woman had never called back.
“¡Dios Mío!”
she’d cried. “They are coming.” I went over my notes of the conversation again, but the picture remained as fuzzy as ever.

Curled in bed, I realized that if I was going to get any sleep, I’d have to deliberately push the puzzle from my mind. The two week deadline I’d imposed on myself looked insurmountable.

Two things were clear. In order to prove my theory to Tugg, and not have him knock the slats out from under me, I had no choice but to work smart and work fast.

By Thursday morning, I felt like I’d been catapulted to the role of local celebrity. My story on the runaways in the previous day’s edition of the
Sun
had barely hit the vending machines and mailboxes when the phone started ringing.

Thena Rodenborn was the first to call and congratulate me, saying she’d never read such a well-written article, that it had moved her to tears.

In the midst of my regular assignments, people stopped me on the street to say it had given them a new perspective on a subject they’d known little or nothing about. Many told me they could hardly wait for the Saturday edition which would carry the second installment.

Even my co-workers seemed surprised at the depth of the article. Tugg, who returned to work looking pale and slightly disheveled, gave me a hearty thumbs up. The only dark spot in an otherwise perfect day was Tally’s conspicuous absence from the office. Supposedly, he was having some problem at the ranch, but I suspected he was still avoiding me.

Nevertheless, I was pumped and feeling pretty good about myself as I prepared to cover the pig races at the fairgrounds. It wasn’t until I dug to the bottom of my camera bag and searched every compartment that I realized my wide angle lens was missing.

I stared blankly at the bag and tried to remember where I’d used it last. Suddenly, it came to me. I remembered setting it on the mantle above the fireplace at the Desert Harbor Shelter during my photo session with the girls on Tuesday. I hated to think how much it would cost me to replace it.

“I’ve gotta go early,” I told Ginger, running past her desk. “I left one of my lenses over at the shelter and I need it for this story. I’ll be back after lunch.”

She was on the phone, but her smile brightened, signaling that she’d heard me. Outside, I blinked in the fierce, white sunlight and fished in my purse for the handkerchief I used to grab the blistering metal door handle on the car. After burning myself repeatedly, I’d finally gotten smart.

I threw my purse, notepad and camera bag on the passenger seat and slid onto the towel I used to prevent third degree burns on my thighs. I broke into an immediate sweat and groaned with discomfort as I rolled down the window. It had to be at least two hundred degrees inside the car.

When I turned the key, only a faint clicking sound met my ears. I tried several more times and got the same result. “Damn it!” I thumped my hand furiously against the steering wheel. I’d suspected something was going wrong, and I could have kicked myself for not checking it out.

Sighing, I reached to gather my belongings and then looked up as a vehicle pulled in beside me. I looked away just as quickly. “Oh, please,” I moaned under my breath, “anybody but him!” The thought of appearing once again as the weak, ignorant female put my teeth on edge. Why, of all the people in the world, did Tally have to drive in at that precise moment. So far, his timing was flawless. Whenever I was in a pickle, there he was.

Since he’d made such a point of ignoring me the past three days, I wasn’t about to ask him for anything. I turned my back to his truck, pretending to be completely absorbed in my notes.

He shut off the engine, but I didn’t hear his door open. No way would I turn and look. Normally, he just jumped out and went inside. But of course today he seemed in no hurry. Then I heard the truck door slam and the click of boots as he approached my car. I ignored him and tried not to notice the drops of sweat trailing off the end of my nose, making soft pattering sounds on the notepad below.

The footsteps halted but he said nothing. My neck ached from the awkward position and I could feel my temper rising. How long was he going to stand there in silence staring at me?

“So,” he finally said, “I guess there’s some reason you’re sitting out here. Is everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine,” I said with a tone of dismissal, still not looking at him. He made no move to leave.

“Do you need help with something?”

“If I did, I wouldn’t ask you.”

He ignored my rebuff. “Is there a problem with your car?”

“No,” I shouted, turning to face him. “I happen to like sitting in a car that’s a thousand degrees inside, okay?”

“I see.” His face was impassive as he continued to stare at me. I was doing quite well in the staring contest until a big drop of perspiration slid into one of my eyes, causing me to blink. With a catch in my voice I cried, “Would you please go away?” The suffocating heat was so unbearable, it was an effort to keep from screaming.

“Pull the hood release,” he commanded.

“I said, there’s nothing wrong. I do not need your help. I do not need to be rescued. I will take care of this myself, thank you very much.”

“Why are you being so unreasonable?”

“I am not being unreasonable!” I’m being…I’m being…”

“Unreasonable,” he repeated, quietly finishing the sentence for me. Before I could stop him, he opened my door, took a quick glance under the dashboard and pulled the hood release.

I could have gotten out at that point, the air outside the car, ironically, was much cooler. But, stubbornly, I stayed put.

After a minute or two he strolled back around the raised hood, stopped, and tipped his hat back. “When was the last time you put water in your battery?”

“My battery?” I replied haughtily. “I’ve never had to put water in my battery. You must be mistaken. There must be something else wrong.” Why was I acting so stupid? I couldn’t seem to stop myself.

“Well, Miss Ace Car Mechanic,” he said, widening his stance, “then maybe you can explain why your battery is as dry as an old buzzard bone.” A hint of a smile hovered around his lips and that made me even angrier. I knew myself pretty well and realized I was near the boiling point. With a ragged breath, I bolted from the car. It was a relief to feel the hot wind blowing through my matted hair. Without looking, I knew the wet blouse was molded to my breasts. I threw him what I hoped was a malevolent glare and then recoiled in surprise when he dangled his car keys a few inches from my face. “Here. You were obviously on your way out. Take my truck. While you’re gone I’ll see about getting you a new battery.”

“Please don’t bother yourself, and I will not take your truck.”

“Why?”

“Because…because…Just because, that’s all.”

He threw his head back and laughed so loudly, the pigeons roosting on the drain gutter squawked and flapped away. I started toward the entryway, but he reached out, grabbed one shoulder, and spun me to face him. “Look,” he began, as I tried to pull from his grasp, “I don’t mean to offend your feminist sensibilities, okay? Just relax. This is one friend helping out another, and nothing more.”

“Oh, now you’re my friend? Well, that’s a surprise.” He pulled his hands away so swiftly, I almost reeled.

“This isn’t about the car at all, is it?”

Well, this was the confrontation I’d been waiting for. Might as well get it over with. “All right. It isn’t about the car. For three days now, you’ve made a deliberate point to ignore me and—”

“Wait just a minute,” he said sharply, “Why are you mad at me? You’re the one who stood me up.”

“I did not stand you up!” I shouted. Then lowering my voice a bit, I added, “At least it wasn’t deliberate. I made a mistake. I’m sorry as I can be, but I can’t undo it. You, on the other hand, have been acting like a…like a…”

“A horse’s ass?”

“Yes! Exactly.”

I expected him to respond but, instead, he averted his gaze and stood silently staring at the distant horizon. The wind moaned around the side of the building and sent papers skittering wildly across the parking lot.

I said nothing, feeling it was important to wait for his response. Finally, he settled the hat firmly on his head and turned to meet my eyes. “So, then,” he said in a controlled voice, “you will be coming out to the Starfire after all.”

He hadn’t said he was sorry, so I guessed his admission was as close as he was going to get. “I said I’d come, and I meant it.”

His expression lightened and so did my heart. “Okay,” he said easily, “apology accepted. I’ll have Jake hold my wagon for the hayride until you get there.”

“Sounds like a plan,” I quipped. We exchanged sets of car keys and I fought the sudden weakness that came over me. I decided it was either a result of too much time in the sun, or the aftermath of the adrenaline rush due to my temper tantrum. Perhaps it was both.

Inside the building again, he gave me a friendly salute and disappeared into his office. I downed five or six cups of cold water, explained the situation to Ginger, and then, headed for the shelter in Tally’s truck.

The air conditioning unit in the cab of his pickup was downright frigid compared to the one in my car. The blast of icy air against my damp clothing gave me a slight chill.

The confrontation with Tally had served to clear the air between us. I hated to admit it, but I had been troubled since our quarrel last Monday. Depressed even. The more I thought about it the more the implication rattled me.

And, I wondered, braking to avoid a dog running into the street, what about my feelings for Eric? At times, I felt he was more of a curiosity to me than a love interest. He was exciting, innovative, certainly sexually stimulating, and actually more the type of man I’d always been attracted to in the past.