The Ugly Truth (5 page)

Or I could get my ass up before she thought of something really mean to do to me. Madison Clark may look like a sweet person, but I’ve seen her dark side, and she scares me. So I did what any red-blooded, relatively sane person would do: I went shopping.

****

An hour later, Madison, Liza and I were at the Ugly Creek Mall. Yep, that’s right, there’s a mall with that ridiculous name. Just to throw another curve into the game, the mall was about ten miles northeast of Ugly Creek. It was big, relatively new, and very nice. When I commented on the situation, Maddie told me Ugly Creek is near enough to Knoxville that the mall draws shoppers from there. Personally, I think it’s tourists looking for a Bigfoot that’s powering the shopping dollar. We parked on the north side, near J.C. Penney’s, then we power-walked into the land of retail.

Madison Clark is an excellent reporter. She charms information out of even the most reluctant source, and she has seemingly never-ending energy when she’s going after a story. All that pales, though, in the wake of her ability to shop until everybody else drops. Except for Liza, who kept up without even breaking a sweat. Must be the fresh air, ‘cause they grow ‘em tough here.

After six stores and three trips back to the car to stash bags, we stopped long enough to grab lunch at the food court. I would have loved to just sit, relax, and people watch. My companions, however, were soon chomping at the bit. I tried hard to delay them, but nothing stands between ex-cheerleaders and retailers primed to take their money. It was barely twenty minutes before we headed back to the stores.

As we rushed headlong toward a high-end clothing store, I caught a glimpse of an odd little man. He had to be less than four feet tall and wore all green, which contrasted sharply with his bright red beard. It was all I could do not to point and shout, “Leprechaun!” But that was impossible. Right?

I realized I’d stopped dead in place when I heard some seriously bad language emanating from more than one person behind me. That realization brought me out of my daze and I shook my head to clear it. When I looked back, the man had vanished. “Losing my mind,” I muttered, and rushed off to find the Shopping Twins before they forgot I was with them and left me at the mercy of tourists and leprechauns.

A couple of hours later I was dawdling in a stall in the ladies room at Sears, not so much because I needed to go as because I needed to rest. While I was hiding—I mean making use of the facilities—I eavesdropped on a couple of women. I told you, I love to people-watch...and people-listen.

“Hey, Ethel what are you wearing to the big shindig?” a woman’s voice said.

“I got a new pantsuit,” a second voice said. “It’s blue and white, and so comfortable. I can’t wait to wear it to the party.”

“Sounds good. I just thought I’d wear that green dress of mine.”

“Goodness, Crystal, is Frank so stingy he won’t let you get something for the big event of the year?”

“No. I just didn’t want to spend the money. You know, with the economy being so bad and everything.”

“Well, you have to get something new. Come on and we’ll find you a nice outfit.”

I peeked out at this point, through a tiny crack between the door and frame. Just as I thought, a couple of middle-aged women. And while it was pretty cool to hear two older women discussing fashion, I was about to open the door when something about the tone and the way the woman dropped the volume on the next words stopped me in mid lock-flip.

“All right,” Crystal said. “I am looking forward to the party. I heard Abukcheech’s giving Nootau headaches.”

“I heard that too. I tell you what, it’s hard enough to raise a human kid, and Abukcheech is almost as tall as most grown men. I don’t know how the Dyami do it.”

Then one of the women lowered her voice to the point I could just barely hear. “Those Yankee tourists would be fit to be tied if they knew about the party.”

“You got that right.”

They were laughing as they went out the door.

I waited quietly until I was sure they were gone before I came out of the stall. Interesting. Very interesting.

I was headed out to hunt down my co-shoppers, when I heard my name and turned to see Jake Blackwood’s grinning face. In spite of my half-hearted attempt to hold it back, I felt a big smile pull at my lips. And my feet seemed to think I needed to be closer to tall, sexy, and trouble.

“You’re out shopping, huh?” he asked.

I shrugged. “Mostly Maddie and Liza are shopping. I just got dragged along.”

“A woman who doesn’t like shopping? Wow.”

“I didn’t say I don’t like to shop. I just don’t much like malls.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I’m more of a thrift store gal.”

“Why am I not surprised?”

The warmth in his eyes sent a thrill up and down my body. Yum, he was one handsome man. Too bad there was that whole conflict thing with my closest friend.

“I’d better be going,” my mouth said. My feet edged a little closer to Jake.

“I own an antique shop downtown,” he said. “Maybe you could come by before you go back to D.C.”

“I’d like that.” Was I grinning like a teenager? Did I care?

His hand touched mine. It was a gentle, brief touch, but it sent hot tingles up my arm. “See you around.” He turned and walked away, leaving me gasping for breath.

As I headed for the meeting place with Liza and Maddie, I could still feel exactly where Jake’s fingers had connected with mine. It was almost like he’d branded me somehow with his touch.

“There you are, slow poke.” Hands on hips, Madison glared. “I was beginning to think you’d gone home without us.”

I wish. Except for running into Jake, and that odd conversation, today had mostly just been exhausting. “No, I’m still here.”

Maddie wrapped an arm around me. “Will you relax and enjoy yourself. This is supposed to be a fun day.”

“I’m just not into shopping the same way you are.”

Maddie sighed and looked toward Liza. “Stephie isn’t into fashion, at least not fashion from this century.”

“Bite me.”

“You have to admit, malls are magical places.” Her face lit with excitement. “How can you not breathe in the sweet smell of this place and not want to spend money?”

Subliminal messages? Brainwashing at cheerleader camp? Or maybe I just didn’t get the shopping gene.

“There’s a sale at Marshall’s,” Liza said.

“Let’s go.” Maddie grabbed my arm and we took off.

For a while it was same old, same old. But then something delicate and blue caught my attention. It turned out to be the most gorgeous blouse I’d ever seen. Soft and lacy, it was feminine and sexy in a restrained sort of way. I took it off the rack with trembling fingers. My size. And on sale.

“You have to try that on.”

I smiled toward my friend. “Okay.”

“And you need pants or a skirt to go with it.”

I tried to groan quietly, so she wouldn’t hear.

“And shoes,” Liza put in.

“And a purse.” The excitement in Maddie’s voice apparently was contagious, because soon I was caught up in it. I actually found not one outfit, but three. Plus gray slacks I could pair with a suit I had at home. All on sale, and all excellent buys. Or at least that’s how I rationalized my purchases. Besides, I was on vacation. Right? I deserved to live it up a bit.

We finally headed toward the car. Liza and Madison, being much more accustomed to schlepping armloads of shopping bags, were way ahead of me. The bright sun of the parking lot slowed me down, and I stumbled a bit going from the sidewalk to the asphalt. By this time, sunglasses firmly in place, the Shopping Sisters were almost to Liza’s car. I sighed and started after them.

The car came from nowhere, or at least that’s the way it seemed. It rushed straight at me, and at first I felt frozen, the way it sometimes happens in dreams. The green metal vehicle bore down at me, and I stood there like an idiot. Surely it would stop.

Green. The color of grass.
Beware!

My brain kicked into gear, and I dove for the sidewalk.

I looked up just in time to see a VW emblem on the back of the squat, boxy vehicle as it skidded out of the parking lot. At the last second, I caught the name on the back of the seriously ugly car, and suddenly wanted to sit on the sidewalk and laugh my guts out. Rabbit. The dang car was an old Volkswagen Rabbit.

“Are you all right?” Maddie yelled, as she and Liza ran toward me.

“Green,” I muttered, as I pulled myself up off the sidewalk. “VW. Green. Rabbit.”

“You hit your head, didn’t you?” We’ll get you to the hospital. You probably have a concussion.”

“I’m okay,” I told Maddie. “Thanks to your Aunt Octavia.”

Understanding crossed her face. “The warning.”

I nodded. “Beware a rabbit the color of grass.”

“Wow!”

“What the heck are you two talking about?”

“I’ll tell you on the way home,” Maddie told Liza.

They helped me gather my bags and we walked—very carefully—across the lot to Liza’s silver Nova.

Due to the excitement, we all decided a snack was in order, so we stopped by a small ice cream shop. I was ignoring the stinging of my knees in order to savor a butterscotch sundae with nuts, when Liza said, “What are you two wearing tonight?”

“What’s tonight?” I asked, hoping the disappointment didn’t show in my voice. I’d sort of hoped for a quiet evening and an early bedtime.

“Talent night,” Maddie said.

Oh great. “What kind of talent?”

Madison’s crisp, light laugh washed over me. “Relax, Steph. It’s really very nice. There’s a dance school and a singer I can’t vouch for, but the highlight of the evening is a band called Women of the Hills. They’re Celtic, all women, and very, very good. You’ll enjoy yourself. Honest.”

I wasn’t sure I believed her. Plus, I was still exhausted and in pain—but not so much I didn’t enjoy my sundae.

****

I could smell rain in the early evening air. Even though the moisture in the atmosphere made the heat more oppressive, I relished the fresh aroma. Sure I’d smelled rain in D.C., but it was different in this more rural area. Instead of vehicle exhaust, the aroma of growing plants spiced the scent. I felt warm nostalgia wash over me as I thought of cool water spewing from a green water hose on a hot summer day.

I hoped it would be a while before the rain started though, for the sake of the festival in progress on the Ugly Creek Courthouse square. Yes it’s true. I’d be perfectly happy if the whole thing got washed away, but the people in town really seemed to be looking forward to the show. Who am I to wish rain on their parade...I mean talent show.

I settled into a green and white lawn chair near Madison (orange and white), Mrs. Clark (blue and white), Liz, and Steve (green and white, blue and white, respectively). The dance recital currently playing out on the raised wooden stage in front of us was a sweet reminder of how some things never change. At the moment, a half dozen little girls in black and yellow leotards, black tights, black tap shoes, white wings and headbands with bumblebee antennae attached were step-ball-changing to Frank Sinatra’s “Ain’t She Sweet.”

“They’re so cute!” Madison said.

“Especially the little one,” Liza said.

They really were cute. They were probably five or six years old, except the adorable blonde on the end, who couldn’t be more than four. Someday, I found myself thinking. It wasn’t something I allowed myself to contemplate very often, this illogical yearning to be a wife and mother. My childhood was enough to make me leery of the very idea. But the sight of those beautiful little kids had odd desires rising to the surface. Even odder, I found myself wondering what a child with Jake would look like.

Shaking myself out of the odd and unwanted train of thought, I focused on the program in front of me. The dance recital was over, and the singer took the stage.

She was probably mid-teens, thin, gorgeous, the daughter of one of the big-shots on the town council. Nobody in our little group had any expectation she could actually sing. And from the rumblings around me, nobody else seemed to think so either.

She looked composed and confident, but I caught the trembling of her hand as she took the microphone. She was nervous. Suddenly I felt for the poor thing. Likely this was a bigger, scarier version of “stand the kid in the living room and make her perform for our friends.”

Then she began to sing.

The entire crowd went silent. I heard Maddie gasp beside me.

“She’s wonderful!” Liza said.

I felt the smile pull at my face. The girl was absolutely amazing. Her voice was clear and pure; her range seemed to be endless. There was something magical about her I couldn’t begin to describe.

She was only slated to sing one song, but the audience clamored until she performed four songs, and only ended there because she sang from recorded music and that was all she’d brought with her.

The applause continued even while the upcoming band began their setup. I wondered how it would feel to follow up that kid. What was her name? I had several clear shots of her and would love it if I could give her a print or two. And maybe get her autograph. That girl was going to be a star one day.

If small town life didn’t spoil her dreams.

Letting it go for now, I turned back to the upcoming performance.

As Maddie had said, the band was Celtic, and I was a little unsure about that. What did I know about Celtic music? Nothing, that’s what. I had no idea what I was in for, but they ganged up on me and insisted I’d enjoy myself.

Strangely enough, I did.

Women of the Hills was a wonderful band made up of interesting and talented women, and just watching them was a treat.

The long, thin whistles were different sizes and colors, and the whistler coaxed amazing sounds from her instruments. The drummer held her drum with one hand, and flipped the other back and forth hitting the instrument with both ends of a small stick so rapidly the movement was a blur. As I watched with awe, I wondered if she wouldn’t have a sore wrist in the morning. I would, that’s for sure—not that I could have done what she did even if somebody held a gun to my head.