Finding the Way Back (6 page)

It had been such a long day, yet still Connie
looked glamorous. She had pulled her hair back in a bun, with curly
tendrils falling loosely about her face and neck in perfect
form.

“My God, do you always look like that after a
day like today?” I asked.

“Like what? I don’t look any better than
you.” She sighed, leaning her head against the back of the
chair.

“Yes, you do,” I answered, annoyed. “Any time
you appear, you look like you just walked off a movie set. Every
male in the vicinity falls at your feet, thrilled to be walked on.
You never even have to try. You can have any man you want, and no
one would ever want to leave you.”

“Is that what you really think? That it’s
just so easy for me? Yes, some men seem easy but it’s rarely the
right ones. You know, most just want to sleep with me, and that’s
it. They don’t see me for anything real, and they sure don’t want a
real relationship. The one man I’ve always wanted has never even
looked twice at me,” she admitted, then looked away. I actually saw
tears before she turned from me. There was someone immune to
Connie’s charm? That was sure a surprise to me. Apparently beauty
did not make you immune to heartache.

“I hate it when you put yourself down,”
Connie turned back to me and continued before I could answer,
regaining her composure. “You’ve always done that, it’s like you
never see yourself the way others see you. Then you marry an idiot
like Simon and allow him to define you and control you.” She took a
deep breath and we just stared at each other.

“He didn’t define me,” I snapped,
annoyed.

“Sure he did. We watched you bend over
backwards trying to be what he wanted. ‘Laney, you can’t write that
in an email, don’t you know how that sounds?’ ‘Laney, you can’t
wear that, that’s frumpy.’ ‘Laney, you know you can’t do that’ and
on and on. Those are quotes, Laney. In the short amount of time
we’ve spent together these last several years I’ve heard these
exact words myself. And at public gatherings in front of a lot of
other people. What kinds of things did he say to you when you were
alone?”

My anger slipped away as if it had never
been. Connie knew me better than I knew myself, and I didn’t know
her at all. I remembered the things Simon used to say that I didn’t
even think were mean—I just thought they were true.

“I’m not saying these things to hurt you,
Laney. I just don’t want to see you hurt that way again.”

I rubbed my face with my hands and ran my
fingers through my disheveled hair. I looked up at Connie. “It’s
okay. You’re right. How about we make a pact? You always be
straight with me and I’ll always be straight with you.”

“You got it,” she said. “By the way, you know
yellow really isn’t the color for you. It makes you look
sallow.”

I made a face and stuck my tongue out at her.
We both laughed.

“Hey, why don’t we walk down to the drugstore
and pick up some things and have a makeover like we used to do when
we were younger. We could color our hair, do our nails.”

“I’m not sure that’s a great idea. Remember
how mad our mothers were when we dyed our hair black that one time?
It was supposed to be wash-out color but it didn’t quite wash out
completely even after several shampoos. Our hair ended up being
gray until we bleached it blonde again.”

“No, that was when we dyed it blue.”

“Oh yeah, that’s right. I got in so much
trouble because I was supposed to be the older and wiser one.”

“And how about the time we dressed like
vampires for weeks just to freak them out!”

Connie laughed. “That was awesome. Actually,
that’s just another reason we should do it today.”

After a couple of glasses of wine I didn’t
need any more persuasion.

Chapter
Six

It was still light outside and there was a
comfortable breeze blowing when Connie and I walked three blocks
over to the drug store. The village of West Acre, Minnesota was one
of those little towns not far from the Twin Cities that was far
enough away from the suburban areas to be considered ‘in the
country’, yet still close enough to be conveniently near the
amenities and entertainment of the metropolitan area. Two blocks of
Main Street and one stop sign defined the ‘downtown’ of West Acre.
A grocery store, drug store and two gas stations made up most of
the available shopping district. There was an industrial park with
three small manufacturing companies providing enough jobs for the
locals, but the rest was farmland.

We walked into the drug store and there was
good old Mr. Cooper, the store proprietor and pharmacist. He was a
little more stooped and gray than when I had seen him last, but his
ever-sharp eagle eyes darted our direction when the bell hanging on
the door announced our arrival.

“Hello, Mr. Cooper,” I said trying to smile
innocently, remembering that perhaps Mr. Cooper had a reason for
being watchful of Connie and I.

“Ladies,” he responded with a cocked eyebrow.
“Is there something I can help you with?”

Here was another reason I moved away from the
town I grew up in. I hadn’t even done anything, yet I felt guilty
as Mr. Cooper’s eyes followed us through the store. As kids, it was
true, Connie and I could be a bit mischievous. I talked her into
shoplifting a pack of gum with me when we were in grade school, and
Mr. Cooper has never trusted us since.

He scowled as he peered at us from around the
pharmacy counter and yelled out, “You two young ladies better
behave yourselves.”

“Apparently he hasn’t forgiven us,” Connie
whispered, blinking at me with wide innocent eyes. “Perhaps, we
ought to split up so we can get out of here quicker. You pick out
your hair color, I’ll get the fingernail polish.”

“I don’t know if I need fingernail polish,” I
said looking down at my hands. The nails were uneven and ragged.
“Scratch that. I suppose I probably do.”

My cousin looked at my hands and rolled her
eyes. “Yes, you do.”

Connie stopped to peruse the nail colors as I
went in search of hair supplies. I saw a cardboard display full of
brushes and assorted hair binders sticking out of an aisle two rows
down and I headed that direction. I turned down the aisle, stepping
around the display, when I spied my arch-nemesis from high school.
Shit!
Melanie Thomas, the girl who would single-handedly
ruin my senior year. I had tried to be friends with her when she
had first moved to town, but instead she got to know me just well
enough to make up stories about me and spread them around. I
couldn’t believe my so-called friends believed the venom she’d
spewed, but they did. I’d ended up quitting every club and activity
I was in just to avoid her and to get away from the pain. Now here
she was again. I looked down at my jeans and remembered just how
unkempt I must appear. I quickly turned to go before she could see
me but it was too late. She looked up and recognized me. Not
wanting to look like I was running from her but really not wanting
to talk to her, I halted midstream and stepped to the side thinking
I would try to act nonchalant. Instead, my foot caught in the
display throwing me off-balance. I flung out an arm and grabbed the
side of the display and a cascade of barrettes, headbands and bobby
pins flew to the floor.

Humiliated, I bent over to try to pick up the
mess I’d made only to look over and see a pair of black loafers
appear before me. Looking up I saw Mr. Cooper standing over me with
another disapproving scowl. “You girls are always a problem when
you come in here. You need to pick that up, on the double, and
don’t put anything in your pockets.”

“Yes, Mr. Cooper,” I answered sheepishly.
“No, Mr. Cooper, absolutely not.” He walked away in disgust as I
watched him go back to his counter. I glanced back to the mess I
made and there was Melanie, watching.

“Hey, Laney,” she said, looking down at me.
“Nice outfit, nice to see you are still shopping at the local
thrift shops.”

“Melanie,” I answered, nodding at her as I
reached down to pick up more items. I noticed the box of hair
coloring she held in her hand.

She looked down at the box and realized I was
checking out her purchase. “Nice to see you again, Laney. So what
have you been up to?” I didn’t know it was possible to be phony and
condescending at the same time.

“I came home to help my mother remodel and
redecorate my grandfather’s old house,” I said, standing up. I
looked pointedly at the box she held. She’d always claimed her coal
black hair was a natural product of her genes.

Anticipating a snide comment, she answered
smoothly, “I’m just picking up some color for my mother to hide her
gray. Would you like me to help you pick some out too?”

I sucked in my breath at the jab as Connie
came up behind me, laughing, with a bottle of pink hair color.
“Let’s put this in too. Your mother will scream.” She came to a
halt as soon as she saw Melanie. “Mel, if it isn’t our lucky
day.”

I saw Melanie draw back and shrink as if
she’d run into a cobra. She could always get my goat, but she had
nothing on Connie, and we all knew it.

Connie continued without missing a beat,
“How’s the job going?”

The smile suddenly froze on Melanie’s lips
and she gulped visibly. You could feel the ice in the air.
“Actually, I do have to get going. Call me and we’ll do something,”
she said, turning on her heel and walking the other direction. She
dropped the box on the shelf as she scurried by.

“You bet,” I answered, knowing there was no
way in hell that was going to happen. “How’d you do that?” I asked
Connie, as I finished organizing the last of the barrettes and
binders.

“There’s been a scandal down at the community
college where she works. It seems a professor there is getting a
divorce, and the scuttlebutt is that she’s mixed up in it, if you
know what I mean. Everyone’s talking about it.”

I was going to say something petty, but now
when I should be gloating over Melanie’s downfall I actually found
myself feeling sorry for her.

* * * *

“Ouch!” I complained again as Connie jabbed
me in the head while pulling another group of hair strands through
the plastic highlighting cap.

“We’re almost done,” Connie said impatiently.
She preferred to wait and see how my hair color turned out first
before trying anything on hers, but I figured my hair could hardly
get worse so I had thrown caution to the wind and dove right
in.

“It’s been so long I had forgotten what a
pain it was to do this. Simon never encouraged me to do much to my
hair because he didn’t want me attracting anyone else’s attention.
He said he liked the natural look, but apparently that didn’t apply
to the bleached blonde tramp I caught him with.”

“Unbelievable,” Connie said, shaking her
head. “Just a few more minutes while I apply the coloring, then
we’ll go veg on the couch and watch TV.”

We went into the living and turned the TV on.
Connie began applying lime green polish to her nails while I put my
foot up on the coffee table and painted lavender on my toes.

The Antique Roadshow
popped up on PBS
so we decided to do some couch-side research on valuing some of the
items we might find. The woman on the television held up a vase
which she told the viewers she’d gotten from her grandparents when
she was married. She explained that while she thought it was ugly,
she’d kept it as a memento of her childhood visits to her dear old
Gram and Grampa.

“Well, the multi-colored vase you have here
is actually Tiffany. It happens to be a rare one that is valued at
fifty thousand dollars,” the announcer told the shocked
participant.

I gasped, “Holy crap! Now that’s what we need
to look for in this mess,” I said to Connie as I finished putting a
coat of purple sparkle varnish on my pinkie finger. I held out my
hand and admired the effect of sparkle over the lavender polish I’d
already used.

“I wouldn’t hold your breath,” Connie
answered laughing.

A sudden thump over my head made me look up
at the ceiling above us. I cocked my head to one side to
listen.

“What was that?” Connie asked, muting the TV.
“It sounded like it came from the bedroom I’m staying in. I don’t
remember anything sitting in a way that could have fallen.”

Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump.

The hair on my arms stood up. “Were those
footsteps?” I squeaked, sitting up straight on the sofa. “Connie!”
I whispered now. “Did you hear that? It sounded like
footsteps!”

Connie’s eyes were open wide as she sat on
the edge of the recliner. “I think it was. Do you think someone
sneaked in while we were at the drugstore?” she asked.

“I don’t know. Should we go up and check or
should we call someone?” I asked, still whispering.

“Maybe it wasn’t footsteps, maybe it’s just
the old house cooling as the sun goes down. Let’s sit a minute and
see if we hear anything else. I’ll unlock the front door so we can
run out if we need to,” she whispered back, getting up slowly and
going to the door.

I watched Connie unlock the latch as I got to
my feet. I stood tense, ready to run, listening intently for any
sounds. Nothing, everything was still. We waited a few moments more
and I was starting to relax again.

A steady thumping began again. Thump. Thump.
Thump. Thump. The thumping sounded like it was moving down the hall
and coming closer to the head of the stairs when my flight response
kicked in.

“Go! Go! Go!” I yelled as I ran toward Connie
who swung the door wide. I grabbed her by the arm as I went past
her, pulling her out of the house with me and onto the porch. We
jostled against each other on the way through the screen door,
nearly ripping it off its sagging hinges as we burst through. Down
the concrete steps and into the yard we fled, slipping in the grass
as we ran across the lawn. I finally let go of Connie’s arm, and
was almost to my car when I realized that not only did I not have
my keys, but I had run outside in my socks which were now filthy. I
turned to look up at the house in the glow of the street lamp.
Nearly concealed amidst the towering oaks and overgrown shrubs, it
suddenly looked dark and foreboding in the gloomy night.