Along Came a Cowboy (31 page)

W
ith perfect timing, Allie and her family walk in with Victoria, Dylan, and Adam. They wave, and I lift my hand gratefully. “Paul, it was nice meeting you. Mrs. Peabody, thanks again for coming. I see someone else I need to be sure and speak to.”

And away I go. I'm getting to be an expert at leaving conversations. Hopefully without hurting any feelings.

As I stride across the lobby to Vic and Allie, I try to put a speech together. If I'd have been thinking, I could have asked Tammy to write an awe-inspiring acceptance speech for me. What's the use of having a speechwriter in the family if I don't make use of her?'

For a second, I envision me at the microphone.
You like me. You really like me
. No, that's already been done.
Four score. . .

“Hey, girl, what's got you in a tizzy?” Victoria's familiar drawl brings me back to the present. Adam is standing beside her, resplendent in a suit and, judging from the tan lines, sporting a fresh haircut. She hugs me.

“I think Ron just told me that I won. And I have to give a speech,” I whisper into her hair. “I don't have one. I'm going to
look like an idiot.”

“Come with me.” She grasps my arm and tugs. Then grabs Allie's. “C'mon.”

Allie looks up. “Where are we going?”

“We need a pregame huddle,” Victoria says.

Allie nods as if that makes perfect sense.

Victoria leads us down a small corridor and around the corner. She opens a door and flips on the light. “Perfect.”

I follow her into the tiny room. “A janitor's closet?”

“It works for our purposes.”

Allie shakes her head. “I don't know if I even want to know.”

Vic jerks her inside. “Insider info says Rach won, and she has to give a speech. But she doesn't have one.”

Allie squeals and throws her arms around me. “Rach, you won! I knew you—”

I break away in desperation. “There's no time for celebrating now, Allie. Right now, I have to figure out something to say.” My voice goes up an octave. “I was sure I wasn't going to win—I was up against a fireman, for Pete's sake! Who knew?”

Allie fishes in her purse and comes up with a bank deposit receipt and a pencil. “We can do this. What do you want to say?”

I think my throat is swelling shut. An allergic reaction to some cleaning chemical in the janitor's closet? Vic's perfume? I should be so lucky. This is good, old-fashioned, run-for-the-hills panic.

I try to think. “ ‘Thank you so much for this honor. But the truth is I'm a fraud. I don't deserve this award. I messed up my life totally, and I can't be honest with the people I love.' How's that?”

Victoria's eyes are huge. “Oookay, honey. Let's do it this way. You take a couple of deep breaths, calm down, and. . .shut up.”

She looks at Allie. “Write this down. Thank you so much for honoring me with this award. There are many other people who work to make this town a close-knit community. I count it a privilege to work alongside these two wonderful, selfless nominees who are also up here tonight. Mayor Kingsley has labored diligently and done a great job on the centennial celebration. There are others too numerous to name who deserve mention. Thanks to all of you.”

“Then you sit down to thundering applause,” Allie declares as she writes the last word with a flourish.

I clutch my stomach. “I can't do this. Tell Ron I'm sick. Tell him I died. I cannot go out there.” My voice rises with unmistakable hysteria.

“Rachel, don't make me slap you. Do you really want my handprint on your face when you get in front of those people? Get hold of yourself.” Where did Vic's accent go?

Her stinging words hit me like a dash of cold water, and I nod.

“Remember, most of us came for the food anyway,” she drawls.

I give a shaky laugh, but my stomach is back where it belongs, and I can breathe again. “Thanks, y'all. What would I do without you?”

Allie laughs. “Hide out in the janitor's closet until everyone leaves?”

They escort me back to the auditorium, and I stop by Mom and Dad's table. Jennifer is sitting by Mom. “Kiddo, you're my date. I need you to move up to the honoree's table with me.” I brace myself for the inevitable repeat of “Where's Jack?” but all three of them exchange looks, so I'm guessing Jenn has told them what little she knows about the case of the missing cowboy.

She stands and follows me to the head table. When we finish eating and the plates are cleared, Ron stands and taps his water glass for attention.

He launches into a long, flowery speech. After the first five minutes, I relax a little. If I'd known his speech was going to go on so long, I wouldn't have worried so much about mine. People will applaud me for my brevity if for no other reason.

I glance down the table at the other two nominees. Gary Anderson, our fire chief, and his wife are seated on the other side of Jenn. Surely Ron's wrong. How could I have beaten someone who rescues people from burning buildings? Jane Matheny and her husband are next to them. The librarian organized a very successful reading program for local children.

Ron is working his way through Shady Grove's history, and he's just now to World War II. I zone out again and glance into the crowd. Daniel's brother-in-law, Carl, is sitting at the table with Daniel and Allie. He was in the war in Iraq—he should be up here instead of me. I'm such a fraud.

“And the nominees are. . .”

Ron calls out each of our names and motions us to stand. When he finishes, everyone applauds, and we sit again.

“Our Shady Grove Citizen of the Year is obviously beloved in our fair community.” He fishes in his pocket and pulls out a few slips of paper. “Tonight I'd like to share just a few descriptions of this person from the nomination letters.”

He flips through the papers. “Numerous people described this person as. . .completely selfless. . .available any hour of the day or night. . .sympathetic. . .caring. . .understanding. . .and generous.”

Tears prick my eyes, and I stare down at the deposit slip speech clutched in my hand.

He looks up at the audience. “And finally. . .this Shady
Grove citizen has a heart filled to overflowing with love for others. Those of us who know her are blessed every day by her giving nature—to the community as a whole and to her fellow citizens as individuals.” He glances down at me. “It's with great pride and pleasure that I introduce to you the Shady Grove Citizen of the Year, Dr. Rachel Donovan.”

I stand on trembling legs and walk to the podium. The tears that have been threatening rush down my cheeks as I look out at the audience again. I hold the deposit slip up and laugh. “I can't see the words for the tears.”

Everyone laughs and I relax. I don't have to worry what they think. They didn't vote for me because they think I'm perfect. They voted for me because I love them, and they know it. And that part of me isn't a fraud. “I love this town. And I love you all. Thank you so much for this honor.”

I motion toward Jane and Gary, then to the whole audience. “When I look at y'all sitting here today, I see heroes. Heroes of courage”—I glance at Carl—“whether on the battlefield”—then my gaze falls on my patient who recently lost her husband—“or in a hospital waiting room.” Allie gives me a thumbs-up, and I smile at her and Vic. “And I see determination to follow your dreams and help others make their dreams come true. And most of all I see your love for one another. When I look at you all, I'm proud to live in Shady Grove. Thank you.”

I hug Ron and stumble back to my seat.

Vic and Allie were right. The applause really is thunderous. Ron makes a few closing remarks, and soon I'm surrounded by well-wishers. When my friends gather around a few minutes later, I look over at Vic and Allie. “Where's Lark?”

Vic frowns and leans closer to me. “Sheila decided at the last minute that she didn't feel well. So they didn't get to come.”

We share a look. When is Lark going to come to her senses?
An agency adoption might take longer, but this road she's walking is fraught with land mines.

I'm a fine one to talk. I look around for my own land mine. “Has anybody seen Jenn?”

“Maybe she's with your parents,” Allie says. She turns to her girls. “Have y'all seen Jenn?”

Katie shakes her head, and Miranda shrugs. “I saw her earlier but not lately.”

I spot Mom and Dad across the room, surrounded by their own group of well-wishers. She's not with them. As I watch them shake hands, I wonder if deep down they feel like I'm a hypocrite for accepting a Citizen of the Year Award. I sigh. If they do, they do. It's all I can manage to keep everyone else from finding out. I can't worry about the people who already know. “I'd better go check with Mom and Dad and find out if they've seen her.”

When I reach them, they both hug me. What else can they do with the whole town watching? “I'm trying to find Jenn. Any ideas?”

“I saw her heading toward the front door when the ceremony first ended. She said she was going to get some fresh air.”

Fresh air? Even at eight o'clock at night, it's still ninety degrees. How could that be better than the air-conditioning in here? Fear grabs me. Unless the company is better outside.

I make some lame excuse and hurry toward the door. People are leaving, but I don't see Jenn anywhere. I take off at a sprint for the parking lot. Why did I wear high heels? I'm a chiropractor. I know better.

Out in the parking lot, I take a deep breath. She's probably in the bathroom. Maybe she got some fresh air and came back. I turn and walk more slowly back up to the Civic Center. Everyone's right. I'm paranoid about her and Dirk.

I pull the door open then glance over toward the empty overflow parking lot around to the side. Berating myself silently, I walk over and look around the building. And there—standing right out in the open lot—is my beautiful Jenn, looking like a princess in her white dress. . .passionately kissing a toad in a cowboy hat.

“What are you doing?” I yell as I run toward them.

She spins around and almost trips. He catches her, then takes one look at my face and pulls his hands away from her elbows and steps back.

Her freckles stand out on her ashen face, and for a second, I think she might faint. “It's not what it looks like, Aunt Rachel.”

I snort. “I'm not quite that out of touch. I know what it is.”

“I called Dirk and begged him to come see me in my dress. Just for a second.”

Unlike Jenn's, Dirk's face is bright red. “I didn't plan to—”

I hold up my hand. “Don't try to snow me, Dirk. I know exactly what you planned.”

Jenn steps forward and touches my arm. “Honestly, the kiss. . .” Now her face reddens. “It just happened.”

“Yeah, honey, that's how it usually works. It just happens. Let's go.” I'm so upset I'm shaking, and I have to get to my car before I make a fool of myself—okay, a bigger fool of myself.

I turn back around to Dirk. “If you know what's good for you, you'll stay away from my. . .niece.”

He just nods and walks away slowly to his truck, his shoulders slumped.

Jenn follows me to the car without speaking, but when she gets in, she uses plenty of force to close the door.

“Why did you have to humiliate me?” she says as soon as I start the motor.

I stop with my hand on the gearshift and gawk at her. “What did you want me to do, Jennifer? Step back into the shadows and let him take advantage of you?”

“For your information, I kissed him.”

I pull out onto the road and try to process that. “He shouldn't have been there in the first place.”

“I asked him to come.”

“Behind my back?”

She shrugs and slumps down in the seat. “You wouldn't let him come. And I think I may be in love with him.”

I put on my right blinker and turn toward my house, trying to pretend that I'm not terrified by her admission. “Love is never an excuse for deceit, Jenn. Not real love.”

As I hear my own words, nausea rolls over me. We ride home in silence.

B
ye, Mr. Johnson. Be sure and ice that back when you get home.” I pat the elderly man as he leaves the adjusting room. Thursdays usually fly by, but in my present mood, I'm thankful to see the last patient of the day. I muster a smile as he thanks me for helping him feel better.

I bump into Norma outside the adjusting room. “Company in your office,” Norma says and gives me an odd look. “Blah, blah, blah.”

My heart thuds in my ears, and I struggle to take slow deep breaths. It has to be Jack. He's been as miserable as I am, and he wants to go back to being friends. Or he wants to talk about the somewhat caustic message I left on his voice mail Saturday night concerning Dirk. I probably should have slept on that impulse instead of calling as soon as we got home.