Perfection #3 (9 page)

“So you think I’m wholesome?”

“Yes!
Except after two beers or
three Cosmos.”
I loved seeing his smile even if it was a rueful one.

He was right, Blue Lake was very small compared to
the locales we lived in; however, it had its nice points. The shops Bullet had
mentioned were open, and each had a quaint wooden sign hanging above the
walkway of the storefronts. They were open for business and I wanted to go
check them out. I loved shopping but I was frugal. I told him so and he said,
“Let’s drive through town first and park and then we can walk through. It’ll be
good exercise and you’ll get to see everything. Have you ever been to
Gatlinburg, in Tennessee?”

“No, I can’t say that I have.”

“Blue Lake is a lot like Gatlinburg—they both have a
lot of craftsmen and a lot of great food. Here’s a good place to park. Bring
your ID just in case we decide to stop by the pub. They have wonderful food; it
might make a great place to stop for lunch.”

“That sounds great!” I dug in my purse and retrieved
my ID and some cash. The idea of getting something to eat sounded great — my
stomach was rumbling and we had skipped breakfast. I knew that by the time
lunch came around I would be starving. “Wait!” I took Bullet by the hands. “No
thinking about anything. Let’s just enjoy this little bit of time we have
together. Okay? Right now, this minute, it is just Bullet and Lilly.
Two friends having some fun.”
I stood on my tiptoes and
kissed him. With a distant smile, he agreed and took my hand.

One of the first places we passed was the pub that Bullet
mentioned, the Blue Lake Bar. A neon sign flashed above the door—it was a curled
wave with a beer sitting in the center of it. Well that was pretty
self-explanatory. We did not stop there but continued on to a candy
shop,
and a microbrewery next. I was surprised at the amount
of tourists that were walking along the sidewalks and checking out the shops.
“Yes, these aren’t just for Blue Lake tourists. People from surrounding areas
come here too because of all the unique outlets. You’ll see in just a minute.
They have a guy here that can sculpt anything with a chainsaw. Now that’s doing
some surgery.” As if she heard us talking, Bullet’s assistant called his phone.
He stepped away for a minute leaving me to window shop in front of a thrift
store. I found some things that interested me, like an antique violin case so I
waved at him to let him know that I was going inside.

I stepped into the shop and it was like stepping
back in time. A turn-of-the-century dressmaker’s dummy stood in the window and
a collection of lace gloves lay on
a nearby
velvet
covered display case. They reminded me of Kate who loved all things lacey. I
looked at the tag. That seemed reasonable and Christmas was only a few months
away. Before I made the purchase I had to check out the violin. What were the
chances that this instrument would be in good working order?

“Ma’am, I was wondering, may I open this case? I
would like to see the condition of the instrument.” The shopkeeper walked around
the counter to the display I stood
next to
. I had not
noticed before but she was wearing Victorian era clothing, a long skirt and a long-sleeved
shirt with ruffles at the neck and the wrists. Her hair was piled into a Gibson
girl style and she looked like someone who stepped right out of the past. I
think the fact that she did not wear any makeup made her look even more like an
antique.

“Yes, it is a lovely instrument. I think that you
will find that it works beautifully. Do you play, dear?” She had a lovely soft,
feminine voice. She opened the case carefully and gently lifted the violin out
of the velvet lined box. The instrument shone in the light. I turned it over
looking for cracks but found none. This was not a violin for an adult; rather
this piece was for a child. I found it all that much more endearing knowing
that this beautiful instrument probably had been handled by a child that lived
during the turn-of-the-century. We should never forget the children of the
past. I pushed back images of my little sister, her stringy blonde hair and her
trusting dark eyes. I plucked at a string and then another. Of course these
needed to be replaced but the instrument itself was perfect.

“Did you find something interesting?” Bullet slid
his phone in his pocket and touched the violin gently with his fingers.

“It is a child’s violin.
Turn-of-the-century,
probably one from a local school, a music school that closed in the 50s.
It is a nice piece to have for a collector of antique musical instruments.
Although, I bet this young lady could coax some sound out of it. You look like
you know how this is played, my dear.”

“Yes, please play something.” Bullet looked curious
and I had to admit I felt like showing off a little. I was tired of him having
the upper hand when it came to careers. The instrument was smaller than the one
I normally handled by not by much.

“The strings seem a little weak. I wouldn’t want to
break one,” I said to the shopkeeper as I lifted the bow and the violin.

“No worries about that my dear. My husband knows how
to replace a violin string. He can play every instrument in the shop and I have
quite a few. Go ahead, play something.”

“All right, if you’re sure.” I played the Vivaldi piece
since it was the one I had been rehearsing most recently. I closed my eyes at
the beginning, pretending that I was by myself. I always did that unless I was
performing — then you didn’t dare close your eyes because conductors frowned on
that sort of thing. But when it was just me, it was just me. Towards the end of
the passage I had selected, I opened my eyes. The shopkeeper was wiping tears
away and Bullet had a strange look on his face. I had seen many of his
expressions, self-confidence, his proud demeanor, but never this one. What was
it? Had I impressed him or did my playing turn him off? Who knew and who cared?
I played the last note and allowed it to hang in the air before I returned the
instrument carefully to its case.

“You must be a professional. That was the loveliest
thing I’ve heard in a long time. Thank you my dear for stopping by and sharing
your gift with me today. Would you like to take this home with you? It seems to
like you.” She rubbed away more tears; I could tell that the words were sincere
but I decided against purchasing the instrument. Not because I didn’t love it—I
did! But it didn’t belong to me. It belonged to some lost child, somewhere.

“No, I don’t think I will, although it is a lovely
piece. I will take those lace gloves in the front window. I have a friend who
loves English lace.”

The shopkeeper smiled and brought me the selection I
wanted. She offered to gift wrap them and placed them in a white box with a
gold bow. “Come back soon,” she said as we stepped out of the store.

Still quiet, Bullet walked beside me. What was he
thinking? I reached over and took his hand. “Should I have played Kansas?”

“No, I think what you played was perfect. I had no
idea you played like that. I mean, I knew you were orchestra-quality but the
way you pulled music out of that old violin; it was
like
you pulled magic out of the air. I was impressed.”

“Thank you. It was a fine violin.”

“Why didn’t you buy it? You seemed to love it.” We
walked up the sidewalk, passing shop after shop, not really looking at them. I
think we both just wanted to be together a little longer. How could I explain
this to him?

“Yes, I did love it but I didn’t really need it. I
have three already and in a way, it seemed kind of sad. Just think, some child
that’s not even here anymore used to play it, maybe even loved it. I don’t
know—it just didn’t seem like it belonged to me.”

He said he understood but he was quiet afterwards.
“Hey, how about that food?
I’m starving!” We needed a change
of subject and a change of scenery. “Let’s head back to the pub.”

“Oh, I don’t know. They have a few restaurants on
the other side of the street. You wouldn’t rather go there?” Bullet seemed to
waffle over going to the Blue Lake Pub.

“No! I want the
true
Blue
Lake experience. If this is where everyone goes, I want to go too!”

“Okay then! Blue Lake Pub it is.” We chit-chatted
about the things we saw along the way back to the pub. It was a nice walk and
it had turned out to be a bright, sunny day. I was glad we had good weather for
this trip. It was dark when we first walked in. It took my eyes a few minutes
to refocus to the surrounding light. It was informal dining and I found us a
table near the back of the pub. I liked people watching. Bullet’s phone rang
again. Darn it! I wished Page would stop calling him and leave him with me just
for a little while longer. He examined it. “Damn, I have to take this. It’s Dr.
Huffington. Will you order me a diet soda and some chicken tenders?”

I understood that he could not blow off a colleague.
“Sure. No problem.”

Bullet stepped back outside, disappearing into the white
sunlight. Eventually, after I read the menu at least three times, a server came
over. She looked to be in her late twenties with jet black hair that she wore
in an Egyptian bob. Naturally, her eyeliner was Cleopatra-
ish
and her lips were bold red. Her hair and makeup style seemed to clash with the
pub’s uniform, black shorts and white t-shirt. “What can I get you two?”

Okay, no “Hi! Welcome to the Blue Lake Pub” or
anything? Okay…“Um, we’d like two diet sodas and two of the chicken tender
meals please.”

“Anything else?”
She stared at me
like
she hated me but I couldn’t
understand why. I looked behind me, was it me she was shooting daggers
at
? “Yes, that’s it.” She scribbled something down on her
tablet and mumbled under her breath and then stomped away. Was I being
overly-sensitive? Did she hate the world or just blonde violinists? I had no
idea but I was glad to see our diet sodas came in unopened cans. I wouldn’t put
it past her to spit in them. I toyed nervously with my pearl choker. She
plunked the cans down on the table and stood staring at me.

“Is there something I can help you with?” I looked
around the pub wondering where the hell Bullet was. Did anyone else think this confrontation
was weird? Was I about to be assaulted? I had no idea what to think but I knew
I needed to be careful.

“I was just wondering why in the world you would
want to date that guy. I’ve heard that some women can be bitches but to date
him? I mean don’t you think what he did was wrong?” The waitress, I could read
the name “Judith” on her tag, was upset. She tapped her order book on my table.
I felt threatened and I froze to survey the dangerous woman who towered over
me.

“What are you talking about? Who did what to whom?”
I pushed back from the table, unsure of what she was going to do next. I could
see a nearby bartender watching us but he didn’t make any move to stop her yet.

“Steinmann, right?
That’s Bullet Steinmann. He raped my friend and he never paid for it. He got to
walk away Scott-free and she’s a wreck. She cries every day and stays drunk all
the time. You tell that bastard he better leave her alone or I will kick his…”

“Hey Judith!
Cut the crap! Don’t be doing that in here.” The burly bartender stood at the
end of the bar watching her, making sure she obeyed him.

“Who’s your friend? What girl? I don’t know what
you’re taking about!” I stood to my feet. I wasn’t staying there another
minute.

“Amelia Sheffield! That’s who! You tell him it
ain’t
over and he better leave her the hell alone!” I
practically ran out of the pub, the bartender berating Judith behind me. Tears
of shock and embarrassment filled my eyes. I ignored the stares of the
onlookers who drank their beers and munched on French fries. I wasn’t hungry
anymore. I ran out into the sunlight and decided to keep running, toward the
car. It was only about a tenth of a mile away but I regretted wearing my mules.
I ran down the sidewalk, crying like a crazy person. I didn’t even think about
what I was going to do. I didn’t have keys, a car or anything. I was stuck with
Bullet in a town far away from home. Bullet, who might be a rapist!

He saw me running and slammed the trunk. I didn’t
know what he was looking for but I was ready to go. “What happened? Are you
okay? What is it, Lilly?”

“I want to go! I don’t want to be here anymore! I’m
done with this and I’m done with you! Take me to the airport now, Bullet.”

“But what is going on?” I ignored his shocked
expression. I cried silent tears, wiping them away angrily as they appeared.
“Did someone say something to you or hurt you?”

“I don’t want to talk about it. I just want to go
home. Take me home.”

“Okay, we will go home.” He glanced at the Blue Lake
Pub and seemed to consider going there to find out what happened but he didn’t.
He climbed into the car with me and we drove away leaving Blue Lake behind.

I could breathe again, now that I was away from that
hateful waitress who had ruined everything. Could Bullet really be a rapist? I
mean, I knew he was passionate and sometimes a little rough in bed but he had
never assaulted me. Could I be driving to the airport with a rapist?