The Road to Glory (32 page)

Leigh paused for a moment, wiping her cheeks on her shirtsleeve, embarrassed and angry over the tears. She turned slowly and watched RJ’s retreating form move closer and closer to the diner. "You can go to hell, RJ," she called out.

RJ continued to walk, not even flinching at the words. Before stepping onto the porch, she warily peeked over her shoulder in time to see Leigh climb in the truck and start the engine. "I’m already there, Leigh Matthews." She continued to stare as Leigh slammed down hard on the accelerator, sending an enormous cloud of dust into the sky before she disappeared. "Take care of yourself, love. I’ll miss you."

Sixty years of built-up resentment bubbled over, and RJ stomped her foot down hard on the porch steps, knowing what would happen. She felt her world spin and gasped as her chest tightened to an unbearable degree just before everything went black.

She never felt Pete and her mother’s loving hands lower her to the ground. They tried to ease her on her short journey back from life to what lay beyond. But as always, this was one trip that could only be taken alone.

Katherine looked down at RJ’s rumpled clothes and then at the black pickup surrounded by shattered glass. At that very second a large chunk of glass fell from the driver's side window into the dirt. She cringed. "Peter," she turned accusing eyes on the heavy-set man, "why didn’t you tell me the lady trucker had Irish in her? My RJ could have been killed!"

*  *  *

"Pay up, loser."

The male squirrel grumpily pulled his head back into their nest. "How?" He threw his paws into the air. "How could that have happened? The darker human has at least six inches and forty pounds on the smaller one."
Last time I ever bet on human female fight
. "It was a sure thing. In the bar parking lot across from the park the fattest human female always wins," he bemoaned, slumping down on their bed. "Unless one has really big hair or is from New Jersey. But those are the only things that trump blubber. Everyone knows that!"

"Wrong. Size doesn’t necessarily matter."

He looked down at himself and then back up at her hopefully.

"Except there."

The male scowled and crossed his legs.

"Well?" She held out her paw. "You’re not going to welch, are you?"

"Of course not!" he lied. The male pretended to look for an acorn in the soft grass that lined his bed. "You’ll just have to take a rain check." His voice dropped to a mumble. "I don’t happen to have payment at this very moment."

"What?" his mate roared.

"You heard me." He scratched his thigh. "It’s not like I’ve been able to go out gathering for a few days, you know."

The female sucked on her pointy canines. This much was true. Her mate had spent the last three days in bed due to a mysteriously contracted itching illness. It had been pure hell. Her evil deceit had snared her like a spider caught in its own web. But she’d finally learned her lesson once and for all. Dammit. Never again! Next time she did it she’d be sure to store up a good supply of food first.

"What are we going to do?"

She joined the male on the bed. Taking pity on him she scratched his back, which was now covered with short, soft brown fur. "What do you mean?"

"I mean," he began to quake, "I can’t take the pressure of being in charge!" Tiny squirrel tears began to fall. "I know I said I was going to from now on. But … but it’s too much to handle. The pressure! The demands! The expectations! The sacrifice!"

"All you’ve done is lay in bed for seventy hours straight."

"I know," he cried miserably. "But I was thinking the whole time."

"Did it hurt?"

"You could tell?"

The female thought about that for a moment. She had assumed that the pained, nearly constipated look on his face was beer withdrawal. But thinking pains, so common in males, was another viable possibility.

"I’m not a modern squirrel. I’m not," he pressed.

She sighed. "Well, the truth is –"

"Please, please, can’t we go back to our established familial roles? With me as the virile, squirrel-about-town bread winner. The squirrel that makes your cold black heart pitter-patter. And with you as my loyal, scheming and surprisingly organized housewife?"

"I do excel at scheming and I am organized."

"And who are we to question the eternal wisdom of Meatloaf?" he crowed.

She had to admit, "Two outta three ain’t bad."

"Exactly."

"But why should I?" She never had any intention of losing the mantle of power. In fact, she’d forgotten he’d even said anything about it. But this was too fun to ignore.

"I’m losing my sense of self. I can’t take it. I don’t know
me
anymore. I’m adrift in a sea of confusion."

The female’s eyes widened a little. Had he somehow gone from beer to crack without her knowing about it? How could he not offer to share?

He wiped away his tears, clearly sensing that she was weakening. "A switch in gender roles is not something that a squirrel can be expected to adapt to in a day or week. It takes years of inter-spousal communication and understanding. If done improperly it could tear the very fabric of squirrel society, not to mention our marriage."

"You just couldn’t think of a plan to save us from the cat," she said knowingly.

"Not a single one."

*  *  *

Pete watched as RJ propped a tall ladder against the frame of the sign. She hadn’t said much since her return, and her mood was growing darker with each passing day. He knew she was hurt and upset, but he didn’t have a clue as how to ease his friend’s pain.

"Anything I can do to help?" he inquired as RJ started up the ladder, new bulbs in hand.

"No thanks."

Pete held the ladder steady as he watched her climb the steps. "Fitz, you can’t keep doing this to yourself. You knew your time with Leigh was limited."

"I don’t want to talk about it." She continued at her task, removing one of the burned out bulbs and laying it on the sign’s ledge.

Pete called up, "Your mother is worried about you."

RJ scowled and touched a strand of blowing hair behind her ear. "My mother worries too much." She removed the next bad bulb and laughed without a trace of humor. "It’s not like it can kill me."

"Stop saying that over and over. RJ, that’s not even funny."

"Sure it is." She looked down at Pete. "Leigh will be fine."

"Will you? Eternity is a long time to have regrets."

One of the bulbs was rusted into place and RJ cursed as it shattered in her hand and nicked her palm when she tried to remove it. "I’m sure I’ll get used to it," she answered tersely. She quickly put the new bulbs into place and collected the old before starting down the ladder. At the bottom she wiped her hands on a rag. "It’s amazing the things you can get used to when necessary."

Before Pete could say another word, RJ collapsed the ladder and hoisted it onto her shoulder. She turned and walked toward the garage.

"What is it that you want, RJ?" Pete called to her retreating form. He hoped to get any reaction at all out of her. He figured that even anger was better than the listless and depressed woman who had taken the place of his friend.

RJ threw the ladder down with such force that it bounced once before settling on the ground. She spun around in the dirt, causing dusty clouds to swirl at her feet as she glared at Pete. "What I want? What I want is no doubt several hundred miles away by now!"

She stomped closer to him, her hands curled into tight fists. "Probably finding comfort in the arms of a woman who can’t possibly love her as much as I do. The one I
want
thinks I’m a right bitch who used her and never cared for her, when in reality I’ve never loved anyone the way I love her!"

She was furious and shaking all over; tears leapt into her eyes, but she refused to let them fall.

"Is that what you wanted to hear, Peter? Did you want to hear that I’m miserable? That it hurts all the time? That I can’t shake the feeling of her touch, that I hear her voice in my head every second. That when I close my eyes," she paused as the angry energy began to drain from her and the tears became nearly too much to fight, "I see her face."

He saw her shoulders slump as she turned and stalked over to her truck. She climbed in, sitting stock still for a moment before more anger burst forth and she beat her fists against the steering wheel. Once the tide of fury had subsided, she started the truck and pulled out of the parking lot.

Pete watched her drive away, headed back to Glory. He sighed, then felt hands on his shoulders.

"She’ll be all right. RJ’s a strong woman," Mavis offered quietly.

"This is a hurt that’s going to take a long time to heal."

"We’ll help her." Mavis rested her cheek against Pete’s shoulder.

"She doesn’t want our help."

"In time she’ll realize she needs it."

"I hope so, but the one thing we know about RJ is she’s as stubborn as a two-dollar mule."

*  *  *

Highway patrolman Jerry Englund sat ‘meditating’ in his patrol car in his hidden spot alongside the road. His eyes had just begun to droop and he let out a soft snore when a bright red semi-truck went barreling past him at what had to be over a hundred miles per hour.

Something crashing against his windshield and the loud dull thud sent him bolting upright. Confused, he rubbed his eyes and looked around, but the truck had already disappeared over the hill in front of him. "What the hell?" Had a bird hit his windshield while his car was standing still?

The patrolman exited the vehicle and walked around past the front bumper. His gaze dropped to the ground and his deeply set, brown eyes widened. "I’ll be good and god damned."

Over the past few months he’d found more than a dozen mutilated stuffed bears alongside the highway. They intrigued him to no end. Who was this sicko?

Patrolman Englund picked up the soft brown teddy bear and gasped. The head had very nearly been severed, remaining attached by only the barest of threads. Tire tracks were embedded in the fur and there was a hole in the bear’s chest where his heart would have been. If stuffed toys had hearts. Englund suspected they were dealing with an enraged sociopath. He grinned broadly and tossed the bear into his backseat as a souvenir. He was sure that someday it would fetch a handsome price on eBay. Maybe he could even sell the head separately.

*  *  *

RJ settled on her parents’ front porch swing, watching the sun go down, sipping a beer. She looked at the sweating bottle, running her thumb through the condensation. She sniffed, then tipped the bottle to her lips, drinking deeply.

She glanced up when she heard the screen door creak open. Her brother Liam sat down next to her and took a deep breath as he contemplated very carefully what he wanted to say.

"I know," he finally started, "that this may not mean much right now, but it’ll get better. It’s only been a couple of months."

"Why did it happen, Liam? How could I let myself fall in love with her?"

The man scratched a stubbley jaw. "I suppose there’s no good answer to that. I could say it’s one of those lessons life is suppose to teach you that sometimes things don’t work out like you want it to." He winced at how lame that sounded.

"I thought I learned that lesson when my plane crashed."

Liam nodded. "I suppose that’s true, but that wasn’t a lesson of the heart. Those are always the hardest lessons to learn."

The pilot grunted and rolled her eyes at her brother’s attempt at waxing philosophical. She took another sip of beer. RJ was by no means drunk — yet. Right now she was feeling pleasantly numb. "I wonder if she misses me," she said softly, eyeing a rabbit that jumped happily through the yard.

Liam placed a gentle hand on his sister’s knee. "I’m sure she does, RJ. But you know what you did was best for you both," he assured confidently.

Her auburn head bobbed weakly, and she became aware of the strands brushing the tops of her shoulders. She had started to go to Sammy’s Barber Shop weeks ago but couldn’t bring herself to do it. She knew it was foolish, but every time she tried to get it cut she kept hearing Leigh’s comment about how good it would look longer.
Wish you could see it now, lass.

"RJ, there’s something I think you should know." Liam shifted uncomfortably on the swing. His sister deserved to know this, but he wasn’t quite sure how she would take it. RJ was never one to appreciate meddling. "While you gone with Leigh, Mother tried to get the council to allow you to go permanently. So you could be together."

A single dark eyebrow shot upward.

"Her request was turned down."

RJ stared at her brother, her disbelief clear. "Really?" She blinked stupidly. "I thought Mother didn’t care for Leigh."

Liam smiled sadly. "She wanted what she’s always wanted, for you to be happy."

RJ sighed. "You know, brother, I’m starting to believe that I was never meant to be truly happy."

*  *  *

"Shut up, Rooster," Leigh said in warning. The man had been calling for her over the CB every day for the last few weeks. She’d listened to other truckers report they’d seen what they thought was her truck, but they couldn’t be sure since her mother’s nude body no longer graced the side.

"C’mon, Leigh. I know you’re out there somewhere. For Christ’s sake, pick up the radio."

Leigh glared at the radio evilly. She was tempted to just shut the damn thing off, but she found the thundering silence to oppressive too bear.

"Tom Cat, I –"

Leigh snatched up he receiver. "You asshole, Rooster. I told you never to call me that." Her irritation was clear.

"Ah … I knew you were still alive."

"Of course I’m still alive. Why wouldn’t I be?" She rubbed her eyes tiredly, intentionally not thinking about the haunting, dark circles that now seemed a permanent fixture on her face.

"Well, I heard you picked up another route along with the already impossible one you drive."

Leigh didn’t answer.

"Plus, I haven’t seen you at Rosie’s in forever."