Rachel Dahlrumple. Shea McMaster

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      Yeah, I could already smell the grass and leaves in the secluded hollow under the weeping willow. I knew just what kind of old time’s sake cheer he wanted.

      “I’m not much in the mood for cheer and I’m meeting friends,” I reminded him. “Besides, your parents are expecting you.” I pointed to where his mother waved at us.

      “Where are you meeting the Westons?” He waved back and his mother settled into her folding chair, content in her spot.

      “They’re a little farther down the street, so you’d better skip over to your parents and let me continue on to my party.”

      “Afraid folks might misinterpret two friends hanging out at the parade?”

      “Exactly.” Especially since no one in town had ever known about our, uh, friendship. Unless he’d said something. I never had. In fact, we’d already drawn far too much attention. Raised eyebrows popped up all around us.

      Jim gave me a long look that felt entirely too intimate, too knowing, and it sparked a bit of wondering in me. What would have happened if he’d stayed around Bonchamps instead of moving off to Monterey and beyond? Did I feel any attraction for him? Compared to the fireworks Dan had set off last night, Jim just didn’t reach me in the same way, but he didn’t leave me cold, either.

      “Look, the parade is starting soon. I need to move on. Come to the party tonight. It’s at my house this year.” He knew what party I meant. “We can probably find time to talk then. Bring a suit, we always play water polo.” No, we probably wouldn’t find time to talk, but he’d get to see me acting like a proper wife with a proper husband and having fun. Dammit, I would have fun, I swore. I expected it to be very fun tossing Burt out on his ear right after I made him clean up from the party.

      “I’d love to. Thank you.” Jim captured my hand and kissed the back of it. He could be very charming when he made the effort. That much I did remember.

      “See you later.” I waved to his parents and pressed into the crowd, a little relieved to shake him. The strain of keeping up a conversation, and the upset of his revelation made me desperate to be alone for just a few minutes before I faced the Westons.

      As I walked, I forced myself to see the people around me.

      I usually loved watching everyone enjoying themselves. The little ones especially, with their sticky faces and eyes round with awe. If I looked hard enough, maybe I’d find a touch of magic, since I had so little to enjoy in my life at the moment.

      Out of Jim’s sight and alone in a sea of mostly strangers, I paused and leaned against a refitted iron lamppost, the metal radiating summer heat through the fabric of my cotton dress. It felt far more solid than I did as people jostled by, seeking the perfect vantage point from which to watch the parade. I’d never before attended the parade by myself, and didn’t like it at all. I may not have been deliriously happy with Burt, but his place was with me, as he had been for nearly half my life. In a way, it felt as if I were missing a limb. A diseased one that required immediate amputation for sure, but the sense of loss was the same. As much as I hated him and what he’d done to me, to us, would I always miss him once I cut him away?

      Across the street was one of two buildings, shops with apartments overhead, Burt and I owned. The owner of the jewelry store, a forty-something single mom who went by the name Ohm–derived from her initials, I’d been told–made jewelry and sold holistic doodads. She stood at her window staring out at the crowd, looking about as disgruntled as I’d ever seen her. Her son, a sweet twelve-year-old who visited the library almost weekly, caught my eye when he waved. I waved back before continuing my appraisal of the crowds.

      The other building we owned, in addition to two small houses, was several blocks farther along the street, and housed a store specializing in organic, handspun and dyed wool, made by a co-op of sheep ranchers from the valley. If I’d been a knitter, I would have shopped there frequently. However, my talents had never been along those lines. Nor did I spend much time in the jewelry store. Burt brought home enough of her work, I didn’t need to shop there, too.

      As I scanned the filling street, I noted other business owners and managers keeping an eye on the crowds and kids. Sonja Neumeyer, the hotel manager, had her hands full pouring iced tea on the porch of the hotel, even with her kids helping. She was one of three single moms I knew to be friends with the jewelry maker. They pretty much stuck together. Any one of them might have caught Burt’s eye at one time or another.

      A tall figure, uniformed in the forest shades of tan and green of the sheriff’s department–complete with flat brimmed hat–strolled in my direction and cut off my dark speculations. I shrugged off my wounded pride long enough to enjoy the sight of Dan subtly controlling the crowd. He certainly drew more than his fair share of fascinated female stares. Though there seemed to be a few thousand people between us, our gazes caught. After a head-to-toe appraisal that paused somewhere around my middle and left my heart beating double time, he pointed up the street. Sure it was the heat of the day making me breathless, I nodded, then shoved off my anchoring lamppost to join my neighbors one block up. Surely he couldn’t have been wondering about my underwear. Could he?

      Because I had to work at keeping my turmoil from showing, I missed a good portion of the parade. I waved when the Westons waved. I waved to anyone who called out my name, and my face ached from keeping a smile pasted on it. John and Cyndi both found excuses to pat me on the shoulder from time to time and the kids took turns passing me bits of candy tossed from the floats. Mindy took charge of my lap as my special angel while ten-year-old Aggie and eight-year-old J.J. scrambled for the treats. Let them think I was upset over Burt’s absence. Sooner or later they’d learn the true reason, but not here, not now. They didn’t say anything, so I didn’t confess.

      As Dan worked crowd control, we got glimpses of him from time to time. I had trouble meeting his eyes the few times he caught me looking, but my gaze kept straying his direction enough that I made my excuses and hurried home as soon as the clean-up clowns started down the street, sweeping up behind the horses. I had other concerns to deal with, and drooling over the deputy wasn’t one of them. It was just the one that kept jumping to the top of my Most Urgent list.

       Chapter 4

      The walk home took far less time than my walk into town, as I once more focused on my philandering husband. People tried to stop me, but I merely smiled, possibly somewhat grimly, and kept moving. By the time I reached the river, I didn’t care if I got wet and plowed my way through the meandering streams twisting around the sandbars. I even stomped through a few pools, which got my skirt wet and cooled my legs.

      Per his phone call the previous night, Burt expected to be home a good hour or two before the beginning of our annual neighborhood party. When the neighbor scheduled to host had to beg off, we’d volunteered, which worked out well, as–until my surprise gift–we had reason to celebrate more than just the holiday. That’s what the neighborhood still thought. Our split would shock them all, unless any of our friends knew something about the nighttime delivery, or knew more about Burt’s cheating.

      Hell, it was my life, and I was shocked. And angry. And incredibly hurt. The wound was so deep, I knew for certain I’d never recover from it. It was so cavernous, I could barely breathe around it.

      But about our celebration…amazingly enough, we had one. A reason to celebrate, that is. A promotion for Burt. A big one. And his oh-so-convenient excuse for being away the past week. Newly promoted to the position of County CIO–that would be Chief Information Officer–he’d told me the twice-a-year seminar СКАЧАТЬ