Dark River Road (81 page)

Then he must have fallen asleep, because the next thing he knew the phone was ringing. Groggy, he got up to answer it and left Cinda lying in his bed.

Chris sounded a lot calmer than he’d expected. “Have you seen Cinda?”

“She’s here.”

The lines hummed a moment, then Chris said, “I’ve never seen Granddad this mad, Chantry.”

“He’ll get over it. Or not.”

“It’s not the right time to say anything to him about Tansy.”

Chantry squinted across the room. His eye hurt and he was sleepy, and when had he become Chris Quinton’s best friend and confessor? Just what in hell did Tansy see in this guy? He had to wonder.

“I liked you better as a bully, Chris. At least you acted like you had balls then.”

Silence greeted that comment, so he said, “There’ll never be a right time. Suck it up. Tell him you have your own life. He doesn’t have to like it.”

“Yeah. You’re right. Tell Cinda to show up for church tomorrow. We’re supposed to be a united family. In public, at least.”

Chantry left her a note before he went to the clinic, but let her sleep. She needed rest more than anything else right now.

The clinic parking lot was packed. He had to drive around back by the corrugated metal building used for livestock to find an empty spot, and even then ended up parking on a strip of grass under the trees.

There wasn’t an empty chair or patch of unused linoleum in the waiting room. He looked around at the menagerie of animals being held by familiar and unfamiliar clients. It had gone quiet the minute he stepped inside, and he suddenly understood. The curious had come to gawk. Even Mrs. Tilly, the church choir director, sat on a carpet covered cat condo holding something that looked like a furry rat in her lap. Hell, he’d been to vet school, and he still had no idea what kind of animal she’d brought in to justify showing up.

Mindy just stood behind the high reception desk staring at them all. He went past her headed to the back and she followed.

“Damn,” she said, “I should have posted a sign charging admission. Five dollars a head to get a look. Ten to actually talk to you.”

“Shut up.”

“That’s very rude. I know you were taught better.”

He escaped into Doc’s office and shut the door behind him. Doc sat in his leather chair that was creased with age and had big torn places. It creaked loudly when he leaned forward.

“Heard you had a big night.”

“Apparently, so did the rest of town.”

“Yeah, well, it’s a small town. Not much to do on a Friday night. Ten o’clock news can be the highlight of the day.”

“It was on the news?”

“Late breaking news. A really good shot of Quinton decking you right before cake splattered on the camera lens. Nothing quite like a scandal to perk folks up.”

Chantry flopped into the small chair set in front of Doc’s cluttered desk. “Great. I didn’t have anything to do with it.”

Doc’s chair creaked as he sat back. “So that wasn’t you in the gazebo with Cara Sheridan, then.”

“Good God.”

Doc laughed. “You know how things get turned around. Rumors are thick as fleas on a hound dog right now. Maybe you better let me handle the clinic today.”

“All those people out there?”

“Once they find out you’re gone, they’ll go. Only the ones that really need to be here will stay behind.”

“Right.” Chantry stood up. “Sounds good to me. But if you get a chance, find out just what the hell Mrs. Tilly brought in, will you? It looks like muskrat roadkill.”

Doc let him out the rarely used back door. They had to move a stack of plastic dog crates to get to it, but it was better than being followed.

When he got near his street, he saw a phalanx of vans and cars parked outside Cinda’s house. Most had those tiny satellite feeds atop the vans, with TV station logos on the sides. He did some inventive swearing as he passed up his street, went two streets down, and parked in front of Herky’s house.

Miss Abby came out and told him he was welcome to park there as long as he needed. She had bright blue eyes behind big gold-rimmed glasses, and a dimple flashed in her cheek as she smiled up at him.

“Tempest in a teapot time. Don’t let it bother you too much. It’ll die down soon enough and folks’ll be on to some other gossip.”

“That’s what scares me.”

She laughed. “If you walk down through the back alley, you ought to be able to get close enough to the carriage house to make a good run for it. Go through a space in the hedge, you should come out right about across from your front door. It’s the way Herky goes.”

“Where is he, anyway?”

“Telling any reporter who’ll listen how he saved his dog Spot from being eaten.”

At least Herky was getting something good out of this. Chantry cut down the alley and through the hedges, and just like Miss Abby had said, his front door was only a yard or two away. He barely made it inside. Some guy with a camera came running after him, feet pounding on asphalt, and Chantry slammed the door in his face and locked it.

The noise must have woken Cinda. She came out of the bedroom, rumpled but looking much better. She yawned. “What’s going on?”

“Reporters. You might as well go back to bed. Unless you feel like running the gauntlet in your jammies.”

“Christ.” She moved to the couch and grabbed the remote and sat down. It took only a minute to find the local news, a station out of Clarksdale. Bert Quinton’s face popped up in one corner of the screen, a photo taken several years before, as the news announcer repeated the question on everyone’s lips: What happened to Ted Quinton?

Cinda watched in silence. When that program moved on to another news story, she switched channels, found it on a Tupelo station and watched that. Then she found it on a Memphis station, and after that, CNN. All said basically the same thing, using
alleged
and cadging words to keep from being sued.

Finally Chantry went over and took the remote from her hand and turned off the TV. Cinda looked up at him, her eyes a little glazed.

“This is much worse than I thought.”

“How do you like your eggs? Over easy, right?”

She just stared at him. He went into the kitchen and cooked bacon and eggs, then made her come sit at the bar to eat. She refused at first, but finally gave in and ate. It was all he could think to do, feed her.

Outside the carriage house, reporters with cameras and microphones milled about, waiting and watching like vultures. Cinda called her parents’ house while Chantry washed up the dishes. He heard only bits of her conversation, and tried not to listen.

She came back to the bar and sat on the stool again. “I should have helped you clean up. Sorry.”

“You okay?”

“Sure. My granddad’s accused of murder, my mother’s gone off to Italy with Paolo, and now my father’s filing for divorce so he can go live with his lover in Jackson. A charming man named Travis. If they get married, I won’t know what to call Travis. Stepmama? Or stepdaddy? I’m considering throwing myself under a train.”

“You’re just shell-shocked. This all hit you at once.”

“Now I know how you felt. You know. A long time ago.”

“Yeah.” He hung the copper pan back on the overhead rack. “I’ve had better times since then.”

“God, I hope so.” Propping her elbows on the bar, she rubbed at her eyes. “I’m not sure I can take one more disaster.”

Chantry thought about Chris and Tansy. “Sure you can. You’re a Quinton. You can take anything.”

She looked at him through her fingers. “I’m also a Sheridan, and my father’s not exactly made of steel.”

“That’s the part that’s kept you human.”

“I take it that’s meant to make me feel better.”

“Look, you stood out there and faced down grown men to rescue a dog for Herky, you stood up to the police afterward, and you can make it through this.”

“I shot Billy Mac Stark because he was going to hurt you with that knife.”

“Did I ever thank you for that, by the way?”

“For shooting him?”

“No, for giving me just a baseball bat when you had a .357 Magnum in your purse. I’m damn lucky you can shoot straight.”

“That’s not luck. That’s practice. And I didn’t tell you about the gun because I’d get away with shooting someone and you wouldn’t.”

“That’s true.” He leaned on the counter, saw the small smile tug at one corner of her mouth. “You’ll get through this, Cinda. You can get through anything. You’re tough.”

She tilted her head forward until her forehead touched his. “It’s easier if you’re with me.”

Right. Dangerous territory again. But he’d made up his mind.

“And I like the bracelet.” she said. “I was a kid when I gave it to you. I didn’t even know what forever meant back then. I do now. Do you?”

“I’ve got a pretty good idea.”

Her voice lowered. “Chantry. Do you mean it?”

He was stepping out on a ledge here. A big risk. But he’d known that when he put the bracelet in the pile of gifts.

“I mean it. I’ve always meant it. It’s always been you, Cinda.”

“Forever. You and me. I like the sound of that.”

So did he. But he remembered how short his mama’s forever had been, and wasn’t so sure life would cooperate.