Slow Dancing (18 page)

“I never thanked you for telling Frank I needed a job,” he said. “It’s worked out well.”

“No, you never did. You were angry with me,” she replied.

“Sorry, no malice intended.”

“What’d you think of Frank and his kid?” Thinking he heard a hint of derision in her voice, he opened up an eye to look at her, but she seemed peaceful enough.

“They seem like a very nice family,” Alan said, surprised he was feeling defensive. If anything, he should loath Frank.

“Ha! I think they have a very strange relationship.” Alan got up on his side to face her.

“Why do you say that?” he asked. “They appeared to be very loving and normal.” Not that he’d know what normal was if it slapped him in the face.

“You know Ellen isn’t his kid, right?” Alan debated for a quick second. Did Miss Logan tell him that?

“No, I didn’t know. Who’s her father?” As quick as if he’d flipped a light switch, Mary recognized something she’d forgotten from years past.

“No one knows, except…..his name is Alan. Oh my God, I just remembered that Margaret, that’s Frank’s wife, Ellen’s mother, told me his name is Alan. ‘Alan’s okay,’ she said. Wow, what a coincidence.” Mary had leaned back and was looking at him intently.

“Lot of men named Alan,” he said, hoping that was the extent of what Margaret had told her. No matter what, he was not divulging the truth until the McPherson’s knew. There was just no way in hell.

“What happened to her?” Mary was getting up from the bed.

“Who?” she asked, confused. Alan laid back down and started to laugh.

“Margaret. Frank’s wife. You okay?” Mary laughed.

“Yes, just a little discombobulated.”

“What happened to Frank’s wife?”

“She died,” Mary said. “Word is she kilt herself over at Hallowsbrook.” Even though Alan heard that story, the words still stabbed him in the chest when she repeated them.

“That must have been awful for the family,” he said. But Mary smirked.

“Just between you and me, it was a blessing. It had to be a relief for Frank, too. His life already revolved around takin’ care of her kid, at least now he didn’t have to carry the stigma of having a crazy woman for a wife, and trust me, she was nuts.” No angel himself, Alan was still appalled at the attitude of the women he’d encountered. First Miss Logan and now Mary. It must be an Alabama thing, or maybe they were glad Frank was free so they could have a shot at him.

“How’d she do it?” Alan asked softly, not really wanting to know, but thinking for the first time that this was the mother of his child they were talking about, not some insane stranger.

Mary slipped on underpants and dug through her drawer for a bra. Putting her arms through the straps, she struggled to get the thing hooked. “I don’t know. We were never told and you couldn’t see any marks on her body.” Alan watched her dress, feeling compassion for her, not because she wasn’t attractive; she was very nice looking. But she was getting older, hearing her biological clock ticking, and he was sure, hoping he was the answer.

“I wonder why someone wasn’t watching out for her, some nurse. Is it that easy for a patient to take her own life? I wonder if they’ll sue. How’d the daughter take it?” Mary stopped and looked at him, the expression on her face unreadable. Worried he might have asked one too many questions, he waited.

“You couldn’t tell there’d been a loss, doesn’t that explain it? It was like, oh well, another day. I was embarrassed for Margaret, to tell you the truth.”

“How long was she put away? I mean in Hallowsbrook?” Mary turned to her dresser, her head down so although Alan tried to read her expression, she was hiding it from view.

“For a long time. Since Ellen was in kindergarten. So let’s see, she’s fifteen now. So ten years.”

“So she just died?” Alan said, sitting up. He knew that, Miss Logan had told him, but hearing it again, after meeting Ellen and Frank, the reality that they’d just had a horrible loss a short time ago made it more heartbreaking.
Margaret, I’m sorry.

“In March. So not
just
. Like I said, she’d been away for so long that it wasn’t that different for everyone. There was no longer a patient we had to visit. That was the biggest change.”

“Did
you
visit her?”

“Yes,” Mary said shortly. “This conversation is a bummer! We just made love and now were talking about Margaret. I’m ready for a change.”

“Okay, no problem,” Alan replied, but he didn’t miss the look Mary was giving him, the corners of her mouth turned down, starting at him intently. And he wanted to know about the visits to Hallowsbrook. “I just asked because of Frank getting me the job and all.” He watched her dressing, bending over to put her slacks on, mouth set; something had upset her, or angered her. Experience with women taught him that unless he really wanted to know, it was best to leave those uncertainties alone. However, if he was going to find out more about Margaret, he realized he was going to have to do a little ass-kissing.

He got up out of bed, naked. “Come here. I can see you’re upset. What just happened? We were having a great conversation.” He took her in his arms and could feel her relaxing under his care. He rubbed her back and finding her bra, unhooked it.

“What are you doing?” she murmured, smiling.

“Do you need to ask?” Leading her back to the bed, he set her down on the edge and started to unbutton her pants. He’d do it to her again, give her a lot of attention, and then maybe she’d talk more about Margaret. It was an exhausting way to get information, and getting more difficult the older he got.

“I’m sorry I got all pissy with you,” she said.

“What happened? You must be upset about Margaret being gone.” The expression on her face changed again, this time he was certain of it. But she was struggling to overcome whatever it was.

“I was upset. When she came here, I helped her out. I gave her a place to stay. She was my friend. And when they put her away, I was the only outsider the family allowed to visit her. I loved Margaret, Alan. I loved her more than I’d ever loved a friend before. She was like a sister to me, but more. To see her check out like that, well it was hard, I won’t deny it.” Mary wasn’t telling the whole truth yet because it was too difficult to dredge up those feeling and he wouldn’t understand, anyway. Men were like voyeurs; they wanted details that titillated, but weren’t interested in the rest. “Me and Margaret had a connection that was more than friendship. Of course it hurt when she left.”

“Did you play a part in helping out Frank with Ellen?”

“You mean, like a substitute mother? No. Well at first I did when she’d go away for a short stay. But not when she was committed. He wouldn’t allow it and Ellen didn’t want it. To this day, she barely will make eye contact with me. Frankly, I think whatever is going on over there is disgusting.”

“You can’t be serious,” Alan said.

“I am very serious. It’s gotten worse since Margaret died.”

“Those are some pretty drastic accusations to make.” She shrugged her shoulders.

“I haven’t made them to anyone but you,” she said.

It wasn’t exactly true. She shared her suspicions with Miss Logan as well as Jessie Brewer. They agreed that things didn’t look right over at the McPherson’s.

“A little bit too much togetherness,” Jessie said. “You ask me, the child should a’ been removed from the home the minute the mother was committed.”

“Where would she have gone?” Mary asked.

“She never told no one about the dad, ‘cept maybe Frank for all we know, and he never says nothin’,” Jessie answered. “You ask me, someone should
a’
forced him to come clean. Get the
real
dad involved.”

“You ever see those two dance together? God Lord, it is beautiful,” Miss Logan said, feeling guilty. “They fit together like a hand and glove, gliding around the dance floor in perfect time. It is a sight to behold.”

“That’s another thing,” Mary said. “What’s with the father and daughter dancing? Where do they do it? At home, alone? It’s not right.”

“You’re jealous,” Miss Logan said. “I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again.”

***

But after seeing the familiar truck pulled over with the father and daughter embracing, appearing to kiss, Miss Logan was no longer certain Mary’s allegations were due to jealousy.

That night at dinner, she was out of sorts. For the rest of the week, she peered out the window of the salon, watching every move Ellen and Frank made and there was never anything out of line. She saw them talk and laugh, watched Frank watch Ellen crossing the street to pick up the mail like the concerned father always did. One thing out of the ordinary was that Ellen no longer road her bike home at four like she used to do the previous weeks after school was out. “Why doesn’t Ellen ride her bike home anymore?” she asked Margo Portland, finally in for that haircut.

“Boyd told me they had trespassers out at the cottage. Twice. I bet Frank’s afraid to let her ride anymore.” Miss Logan stopped cutting Margo’s hair, scissors and comb poised over her head, looking at her in the mirror.

“Boyd Dalton told you that?”

“Yes, and if you tell anyone, I swear to God Sally Logan, not only will I never speak to you again, I’ll tell everyone I got ringworm from your combs.” Miss Logan pushed her in the back.

“I’ll sue your ass, you lie about my place. Since when do you talk to Boyd?”

“He comes into the clinic,” Margo said. “Just like any patient does. And that’s privileged, too.”

“And he just happened to tell you about going out to Frank’s.”

“That’s right, Sally. That’s my story and I’m stickin’ to it.” But Miss Logan was not convinced.

“I think you’re seeing him and trying to keep it on the QT.”

“Out of all the people in the world, you are the last one I would tell if I was seeing our revered married sheriff.”

“Well, are you?” Miss Logan spun Margo around in the chair. “Why’s your face all red?”

“Yes, I’m seeing him!” Margo said, furious with herself for being so weak. Now everyone in town would know and it would just be a matter of time before Boyd heard it and would break it off before his wife, an absolute moron of a woman found out.

“Oh, my
God
,” Miss Logan said, shaking her head. “But I can see why he would stray. His wife is awful. She’s involved with every Girl Scout, Boy Scout, 4H, fund raising crap there is. She even teaches Sunday School over at the Methodist Church. And you are so sweet. I can absolutely see why Boyd would go for you.”

“You can?”

“Of course, I can. How long have we known each other?” Miss Logan stopped cutting again and was standing with both hands on her hips, scissors dangerously pointed out to the side.

“Forever. Since we were kids.”

“Well, you were a kid and I was old enough to babysit you. But my point is that I really do care for you Margo. You’re one of my true friends. I actually have a worry that I need to talk to you about. You bein’ a healthcare professional and all.” Relieved that the topic was changed, Margo encouraged her to speak up.

“There’s nothing we can’t share, obviously,” she said.

“Well, I was on the bus, you see, so I can’t say what I saw was well, exactly what I
thought
I saw. And others have been talkin’ about it. Jessie and Mary.” Margo rolled her eyeballs.

“Sally, those two are the worst story tellers. I wouldn’t believe a thing either one said.”

“Well, here’s the thing. I listened to what they said, and then I saw.”

“What is it?”

“Talkin’ about Frank and Ellen,” Miss Logan said, putting her hands down again. Margo looked up at her, frowning.

“Saying what?”

“Well, you know,” she whispered. “That things ain’t right over there since Margaret died and all.”

“How do you mean?” Margo
thought
she knew what her friend was driving at, but wanted her to say it out loud. Because if it was what she thought Miss Logan was trying to say, she’d have to report it. She could lose her nursing license for keeping quiet about an accusation like that. It was child endangerment.

“Frank and Ellen.”

“Sally, what about them? You have to say it to me. I’m not guessing.”

“Well, I saw them together.” Margo looked up at her again. Miss Logan paused, deliberating. “They were parked in that truck of Frank’s. At the side of the road. I was in the bus, passing by, and they was turned to each other, her arms around his neck. They looked like they was kissin’.” Margo turned back to looking out of the window. The idea that Frank and Ellen were in any kind of perverse relationship was completely improbable. But now that Miss Logan had put the idea out into the universe, Margo had to act. She’d have to tell Boyd as the sheriff, not as her lover.

“Is that it? Was there anything else?”

“Mary claims to have seen them together the other night. Claims she was walking down by the river and just happened upon Frank’s cottage and they was in the living room in an embrace. She said they were standing together, kissing.”

“I don’t believe it,” Margo said, furious.

“I didn’t either,” Miss Logan said, passionately. “That is until I seen with my own eyes.” She put the comb and scissors down. “You ain’t going say anything, are you?”

“Sally, I have to now. I’m a registered nurse. You’ve just made an accusation of child endangerment. Ellen could be at risk if what you are saying is true. It has to be investigated. I think it’s nothing, that it’s innocent, but we won’t know until Boyd looks into it.”

“Boyd? Oh my God, Boyd?”

“He’s the sheriff, for Christ’s sake. Who did you think I was going to tell? Pastor Marks?”

“Oh this is terrible. Now Frank is going to be angry with me.”

“He won’t know, and if you’re smart, you’ll stop passing that awful story Mary is telling around. Nip it in the bud, Sally Logan. There’s a lot at stake here. And will you please finish cutting my hair?”

Hands shaking, angry at herself for being such a gossip, Miss Logan picked up the scissor and comb again and slowly and carefully finished cutting Margo Portland’s hair.