Slow Dancing (19 page)

Chapter 17

After getting one of the worst haircuts she’d ever had, Margo left Miss Logan’s Beauty Salon in a quandary. She needed to act right away, just in case Ellen really was in danger. It sounded perfectly innocent to her, but if it wasn’t and something happened to Ellen, she’d never forgive herself. It was safer to make the call to Boyd from work rather than her house; she went back to the office. She hated being in the office alone, it was depressing in the daylight. Shutting the shades, locking the door, her palms were sweating as she dialed his number. Dispatch would put her call through to the house and hopefully his wife, Carol wouldn’t answer.

“Seymour dispatch,” the officer said.

“This is Margo Portland from the medical office calling for the sheriff. I have to report a possible case of child abuse.”

“Hold on Miss Portland and I’ll ring his number for you.” A few second later, Boyd answered.

“What’s going on?”

“I was in Miss Logan’s this evening and got an earful. I’ll tell you what was said and you can take it from there.”

“Okay, I’m listening.” Margo detailed everything Miss Logan told her, and added what she’d said about Jessie Brewer and Mary Cook, as well. “And I just remembered at the ninth grade dance, Mary alluding to there being something inappropriate going on between father and daughter.” There was silence on the other end of the line. Finally, he spoke.

“You realize this is all bull shit right?”

“Oh, I know that,” Margo answered. “It’s too bad for Frank. Miss Logan told me and now I’m passing it on to you.”

“Shit rolls down hill,” Boyd said.

“And in this case, you’re at the bottom of the hill. What are you going to do?”

“I think I’ll take a ride over to the cottage tonight and talk to Frank.”

“Okay, well I’m sorry.”

Then whispering into the phone, Boyd arranged to see her later. “I’ll come around after I’m finished.”

“Okay,” she said, knowing it was wrong, sorry she ever said she’d get her hair cut after work.

Boyd went back into the kitchen where his family was gathered for dinner. “I’ve got to go out for a bit,” he said. “Riding out to the McPherson place.”

“Again?” Carol Dalton said. “Margo Portland going to be there?”

“No, not this time,” he said, kissing her cheek. “You’re welcome to come if you want.”

“I’ll pass. Say hi to Frank for me,” she said, hiding her middle finger extended in the folds of her apron. That piece of shit was going to see Margo sometime that night, she was sure of it. But there wasn’t a damn thing she could do about it.

“Hey,” he said when he got out in the hall. “Come here a minute.” She thought maybe he was going to hug her, but he had something else in mind.

“What is it?”

“You ever hear any gossip about Frank and Ellen?” Carol looked into his eyes and she could see that he was serious, and what he was referring to.

“Like real gossip? Or just crap. ‘Something’s not right over at Frank’s…’ that sort of thing?” Their daughters were good friends of Ellen’s.

“Right, that sort of thing.”

“Well, yes. But it
is
crap, you know that and I know that. He loves that kid as if she was his own. I can’t imagine him doing anything to her anymore than I could hurt my own kids. Or you. It’s inconceivable.”

“That’s what I think. But the accusation has been made and now I have to follow up on it. I hate this part of the job.”

“Ellen’s been coming over here and the girls over to the cottage since they were in kindergarten. I’d have picked up on it if there was something going on.” She reached up and kissed him again.

“Sorry about the comment about Margo.” He frowned and turned away, but he didn’t deny it.
Oh God I hope he doesn’t leave me for her.

Driving through the village after dinner always depressed Boyd. The streets were dead after five. He was born and raised in Seymour and had watched the steady decline of the town for the past twenty years. Decline wasn’t the right term. The town wasn’t declining so much as it wasn’t growing. After the shopping district, he drove through a small residential neighborhood and the further he went from town, the sparser the housing got. Reaching Frank’s he always thought the same thing; he’d like to have a little piece of land out here by the river. It was too expensive now. The big field next to Frank’s was for sale and one day a rich person was going to buy it and build one of those McMansions on the river.

The lights from Frank’s house penetrated the dusk while the sun started its decent. Shutting the lights off to the car, Boyd wanted to sneak up and catch them doing something wrong, maybe kissing in the front window. But instead, he saw a family scene with Frank sitting in his recliner, reading the paper and Ellen on the couch, her nose in a book. The TV was off and there was music playing; he wondered when the last time his wife turned the TV off and suggested their kids pick up a book. Maybe he’d take the lead.

Their front door was open, so he slammed the car door hard, hoping they’d hear. Frank put the paper down and walked to the door. “Howdy, Frank,” he said. “Sorry to come out here unannounced.”

“I’m glad you’re here,” he said. “Something happened yesterday and I want to talk to you about it. It’s got my girl here a bit upset.”

“You want to chat outdoors?” Boyd asked.

“If you don’t mind, I think it best,” Frank answered. “El, I’ll be out here with Sheriff Dalton.” Boyd saw her nod, but not react.

“Walk with me a ways, would you?” Boyd followed Frank away from the house.

“You got my curiosity going, sir,” Boyd said. Frank snickered and waved him further from the house.

“We was leavin’ the garage for home last evening. I run into the grocery and when I come back, my girl is beside herself. This new man in town, you meet up with him yet? I got him a job at Paul’s. Anyway, she swears he’s the stranger who lurked at the edge of the wood last week. The same height and stands a certain way most don’t stand, she said.

“She was so upset, she flipped out and you know as well as any my girl is not an attention seeker. I had to pull the truck over and try to calm her down.” Boyd immediately saw the connection; the truck at the side of the road, the hysterical girl being comforted by her father. He wondered if this wasn’t what Miss Logan saw on her way home from work on the bus.

Boyd got his notepad out. “You say you got the man a job? How’d that come about? Just curious.” Frank told him about Mary dating the man and calling over to the garage asking the favor. “What’s his name?” Frank gave him the details, which he wrote down.

“So now what brings you out here?” Frank asked. Boyd shook his head.

“You won’t believe this, sir.” He explained about the allegation that had been made, and that he thought the embrace the informer had witnessed was the one that Frank had just told him about.

Completely taken aback by the accusation, Frank was stunned. “I would never,
ever
harm my girl in any way. The thought of doing anything that might hurt her makes me sick to my stomach. We never touch each other except when we’re dancin’. Now you say this garbage, I might have to rethink us going to a dance contest we was invited to attend.”

“Don’t do that, Frank. Please. I’m sure we can clear this up. I wish I could just drop it, but I have to file a report. My superiors will look it over and I’m sure it will be a closed case tomorrow.”

“Oh Lord God you got to call it a case? I gotta bad feeling about this.” Boyd put his hand up on Frank’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry, I’m truly sorry. But don’t get all worked up. Let’s take it slow. I’ll be in touch when I have something to tell you. Do you hear what I’m saying, Frank?” He slowly nodded his head.

But it wasn’t okay. The next day, the county offices converged upon Seymour. Social services, The Division of Child Safety, made their first visit to the garage on Main Street, initiating the beginning of Frank and Ellen’s nightmare. Two tired looking women drove up in a dusty car with government plates. One was tall and thin and the other was short and chubby. They were dressed as if they’d come to clean house, like women who have given up trying to look even marginally attractive.

“Mr. McPherson, we just want to question the girl about the events of the past few days. You’re welcome to stay in the room when we do so, but you aren’t allowed to answer for her or interrupt.” Frank was speechless.
What would they do to him if he interrupted? Shoot him?

“If you’ll excuse us please, I’m takin’ my daughter into the garage to speak to her privately.” Ellen was terrified, and he could see it in her eyes, cursing himself for not speaking about it to her about it as soon as Boyd left the night before.

The social workers looked at each other. What were they going to do? Call the sheriff? “Okay, go ahead. But don’t leave.” Frank whipped around.

“What’ll you do if I do? You better have a warrant for my arrest.” He nodded his head to her and Ellen got up off her stool to follow him into the garage, looking at the women as she left the office. Frank stood aside for her to go before him and the smell of the oil and the familiar space choked her up.

“What’s going on?” she asked. “What are they going to ask me?” Frank was embarrassed before her, it was not their usual conversation to talk of intimate things.

“Someone told Sheriff Dalton that you and I was kissin’ at the side of the road the other night. That’s all. You tell those two everything and be honest. We ain’t got nothin’ to hide.” He nodded back at the door and she turned to go back into the office. The social workers watched the brief exchange, watched the man speak and the look of distress on the girl’s face and deduced they were in collusion.

The questioning was quick because they’d made their minds up that the man had threatened the young girl. “Are you afraid of your step-father?”

Visibly shrinking away from the women, horrified, she answered, “Of course not!”

“Just now, in the garage, did your step-father tell you to lie to us about what has happened between the two you?”

“No. He told me to be honest with you about everything.”

“Has your step-father touched you inappropriately?” Ellen cringed again.

“That’s disgusting! Who ever said a thing like that about him?”

“Please just answer the question,” the tall one said.

“No, never. Frank hardly ever even hugs me. That’s disgusting,” she repeated. Frank was doing a slow burn in the corner, sorry he didn’t demand to have his lawyer present.

“That’s enough,” he said. “I want our lawyer here, or I want you to arrest me, but you’re not talkin’ to my child more today.”

At home that evening, dinner was a solemn affair. “I’m not really hungry,” Ellen said, elbows on the table and head in her hands.

“Me neither, but we gotta eat. You’re already thin as you can be. You don’t want me to get smaller than the new man in town, right?”

Ellen looked at him and started to giggle; he was standing with his arms out at his sides, making bicep muscles. “No, I guess not.” The phone ringing interrupted their heart-to-heart. Frank picked it up, frowning, not wanting more news of any kind.

“It’s Boyd. Sorry to bother you during dinner, but I wanted to tell you as soon as possible, before you heard it from anyone else.” Frank’s heart was thumping in his chest. “The interview with Ellen today led the social workers to believe there is evidence that needs to be investigated further. I’m sorry, Frank.”

“I don’t get it. She denied everything they asked her.”

“Evidently, they felt she was under coercion.”

“Boyd, that’s utter nonsense. You have to believe me. The thought of what they are accusin’ me of makes me sick to my stomach.”

“Look, I know that. But what I think doesn’t matter now, although if it goes any further, I will definitely speak my opinion on your behalf.”

“So what happens now?”

“You need to show up at the courthouse tomorrow morning with Ellen’s adoption papers.” Involuntarily, Frank took a step back and gasped, scaring Ellen.

“I
got
no papers Boyd. This is Seymour. Who’d think that was even a necessity here?” A problem Margaret hadn’t foreseen; Frank never adopted Ellen.

“I’m no lawyer, but you have no legal rights now that Margaret’s dead and if the courts wanted to, they could take Ellen away from you and make a stranger her guardian.”

“What do I do now?”

“You get a lawyer fast.” They said goodbye and Frank hung the phone up on the wall. He glanced around the room, at the simple furnishing in his childhood home, trying to glean comfort from it as he had in the past.

Frank had never given up on anything in his entire life, but that evening, with Ellen sitting at the kitchen table in their familiar kitchen, watching him carefully with a frightened look on her face, and the sheriff forecasting horrific consequences because of his naiveté, Frank was ready to give up. He choked back an unfamiliar sensation that turned out to be a sob.

Chapter 18

News travels fast in a small town, and Frank and Ellen’s crisis was news. That it was the result of stupidity and gossip didn’t seem to matter. The gentle man and his loving step-daughter were now fair game and even the baggers at the grocery were talking about it, pointing at the garage that had a hand-lettered note applied to the door with masking tape;
Frank’s will be closed until further notice.
People strolling by stopped to the read the note, and if they were uninformed, remarked about how sad it was, Frank’s Garage had been there since Big Frank was alive and what a shame it would be if he never opened up again. Those who were in on town gossip sneered at the sign, saying that such a one as Frank McPherson deserved to burn in hell after what he did to that little girl. Stories of bondage and other forms of darkness whispered about in the chairs at Miss Logan’s Beauty Salon, in line at the post office, having lunch at the café and waiting to carry bags for patrons at the grocery store who carried the stories further, more often than not embellished in the worst possible way.