*banner by Kendal (livejournal)
The next morning, I had to call Stanley.
I had been holding back, reminding myself that I was a grown woman and I didn't need to go crying to my granddaddy figure every time I was in "turmoil" – to use one of Della's dictionary words – but I couldn't take it anymore. He was the only one not in the middle of this craziness, not brainwashed by Bennet's charms, and something told me that if I didn't talk to him I might just go insane.
He had to talk me down, and I knew he would. Stanley always knew what to say.
And even though he was in his early 80s and Keplar's had yet to wander into the 21st century in some ways, Stanley had a cell phone. He was one of the few in town who did, since he was one of the few who actually traveled. He answered on the second ring. "Natalie Jean! You miss me already, pumpkin?"
My heart was flooded with warmth. I wished I could hug him, just hug him, but that might have made me cry. It was probably a good thing we weren't in the same room.
"It seems like you've been gone for ages, Stanley, and the whole town's gone batshit crazy since you left," I said, sitting down on the edge of my bed not too far from my phone's base. The swirly cord wasn't too long, so I couldn't wander far. I told myself I should invest in a cordless phone already.
Stanley chuckled. "Yes, I've heard. And though I'd like to think everyone went nuts out of missin' me so bad, I know that's not the case. Heard our prodigal son returned."
I should have known he'd know. Della probably called him first thing.
"Yeah. He did," I said dully. "Why didn't you rush home to gush all over him like everyone else?"
"Now, now, Natty," Stanley said, chuckling. "You can't fault people for being quick to forgive."
I sighed, pushing my bitterness away the best I could. I didn't want to sound like a whiny brat to Stanley. "I know. But it doesn't mean I understand it."
"I do. It's how they are, darlin'. They love their people, they don't want to waste time bein' mad," he said.
"So you would be one of them, then?"
"Oh hell no," he said, letting out a loud chuckle. "I'd smack him upside the head and say 'boy, where the hell have you been?'"
"See? I knew you would understand." I fell back onto my bed, finally feeling a little sane again. The base of the phone slid forward on my side table but didn't fall off. I put my foot on it just to make sure it stayed.
"My ally – my one ally – and you're in Kaysville!" I said, shaking my head. "You just left me here to fight this battle alone. I'll never forgive you for it."
He laughed and laughed. "I believe it. I'll be grovelin' until I'm in my grave. You're such a stubborn thing."
I sighed. "I feel like the bad guy because I'm the only one who's mad at him."
"They don't know him like you knew him. None of us can really understand what you're goin' through," Stanley said.
And they didn't. They really didn't. There was so much that they didn't know, because I didn't tell them and I never would. I was never able to find the words.
Stanley sighed. "Della said he won't tell anyone what happened until he tells you. Has he told you?"
"No," I said. "He's tried a few times but I won't let him. Then when I did ask him, he wouldn't answer. He says it's complicated."
"Complicated?" Stanley said, then let out a grunting laugh. "Oh boy. Della says you've been fit to be tied, but now I understand why. It sounds like he's bein' pretty nonchalant about the whole thing."
"Yes! He is," I said, so relieved someone other than me was seeing it. "That's half the reason I don't want to talk to him, even to find out what happened. He's bein' a cocky ass and it just makes me want to punch him."
"Again? Wasn't tusselin' in the middle of Main enough for you?"
Damn Della and her big mouth.
I ignored that. "It's hard for me to deal with him when he's like that."
"Well, I can imagine it's not the easiest thing to do, come back into town after mysteriously disappearin' for nearly two decades," Stanley said. "He probably couldn't think of any other way to handle it. You know how he was, all charm. That's how he got this whole town around his pinky in the first place. He probably figured it was the only way he could be accepted again."
I could see Stanley's point and yet . . .
"Well, he obviously doesn't know me very well anymore," I grumbled.
Stanley laughed. "Darn tootin'. But you two were always good at pushin' each other's buttons. You were the only one who didn't take his bull. You kept that boy as humble as boy like him could be."
I snorted. I had never thought of it that way.
"He should've known you would've reacted the way you did," Stanley said, almost scolding, but he had such a warm voice it was almost funny when it tried to be stern. "Who knows, maybe he was scared."
"Scared? Scared of what?" I said. Bennet was never scared of anything. Or at least he didn't show it. I know he had some fears of going crazy like his mama did or becoming a drunk like his daddy was, but that was about it. He was indestructible as far as he was concerned. Of course, that had been when he was 16. What 16-year-old boy doesn't think he's unstoppable?
"Scared you wouldn't accept him. Scared you changed too much or he changed too much," Stanley said. "He's probably goadin' you just to see if you'll react like you used to. If you got angry that would mean you still cared for him, maybe he wanted to see if that was the case."
I hadn't thought of that either. I wondered if that was true. And then I wondered if I even wanted to go down that road. If it was wise.
"Stanley Pike, you're too smart for your own good," I said.
He chuckled. "No, darlin', I'm just an old man pretendin' he knows everything."
"You do know everythin'," I said. "Why do you think no one in this town can make a decision without you? By the way, I can't decide: sandals or tennis shoes?" I grinned.
He hummed. "The great and powerful Dr. Pike says . . . tennis shoes. Those're better for parties involving grassy lawns."
I groaned. "So Della told you about his welcome back party then?"
"Of course, you know how she is. I've been gettin' play-by-plays of every move Bennet's made since he came back," Stanley said, a smile in his voice. "I can always count on my little gossip bird to keep me updated."
I laughed weakly, shaking my head. When my hangover headache pounded a little harder, I stopped with a grimace. I shouldn't have had all those damn beers.
"You gonna go?" Stanley said.
"Yes. She bullied me into it."
He laughed. "She told me that too, but I wouldn't be surprised if you tried to sneak out of it."
"You think I shouldn't?"
"I think you should do whatever you damn well want," Stanley said. I could almost see him shrugging his shoulders and lifting his long white eyebrows. "This is your broken heart not theirs."
I loved Stanley. So much. When he got back, I was determined to put a big kiss on his shiny bald head.
"Think I should just let him tell me the big secret? Then at least the rest of the town can know and get off my back," I said.
"Yeah, you could do that if you wanted," Stanley said. Then he chuckled, sounding a little devious. "Or you could hold out on him and make him squirm a little. Teach that boy a lesson."
I laughed like crazy. "Spoken like a true devil."
"I'm just sayin'," he said, chuckling and lifting his shoulder again, I'm sure. "If he wants to tell you so bad but he's being a cocky ass about it, maybe you don't make it so easy on him."
"Stanley Pike, come home now and marry me."
He gave a high-pitched "hee hee!" laugh and I heard a distant smack, telling me he had slapped his knee.
"I think Della would protest, honey," he said.
"And I hate to break her heart like that, but I can't help it."
He laughed. "I'm sure Bennet wouldn't be too happy about it either."
I growled and Stanley laughed. "Never mind. Maybe I don't want to marry you after all."
"How quickly the lady changes her mind!"
He laughed and laughed. It got me laughing after awhile, which was nice. It felt good to just laugh and be silly for once instead of angry and sad. It even made my headache go down.
"I knew callin' you would be the right thing," I said. "When are you comin' home already?"
"Soon, darlin'," he said. "A day or two, when the conference is over. Maybe by then all the Bennet excitement will die down and the townsfolk won't attack me for smackin' their boy hero upside the head."
I giggled. "I don't know. They may adore you but they adore him too. It should be interesting to see who they side with."
He gave a "heh" laugh this time, all quiet-like. "I guess we'll see, huh? Who will you be rootin' for?"
"Oh, Team Pike all the way," I said with a grin.
"That's my girl," he chuckled.
***
I have to say when it comes to throwing together a party at the last minute, the townsfolk of Keplar's would get an Olympic gold medal. Even if they only had one day to plan and a morning to set up, they still managed to organize a pretty nice shindig – even with the hangovers.
The church lawn was covered in chairs and tables – decorated with blue tablecloths and vases of flowers and ribbons – set out in nice neat rows. There was a tiny stage area set up where the Flaming Spurs were scheduled to croon a few tunes with light and dark blue streamers and balloons hanging from anything that stood still.
Even after 16 years they remembered that Bennet's favorite color was blue. At least when he was a kid
There was food all over the place, mostly in mismatched crock pots, and a cooler full of soda. Finally, there was a big banner – handmade by Patty who owned the craft store on Main – that read, "Welcome Back, Bennet Malene! We missed you!"
She had misspelled Bennet at first, putting an extra "t" at the end, so there was a blue streak of construction paper where she had ripped the letter off. She griped about that for the entire party, thinking she was some kind of failure for it. Others assured her no one had noticed it (which we had, we just all knew Patty was not the best speller), but she still tried to drown her sorrows in Pepsi, depressed there was no alcohol around.
For a long time I stood on the side of the church watching the party, clutching my homemade brownies and wondering if I should just leave. I thought about what Stanley said, how I should do whatever I want and I wanted to use that as an excuse. Stanley gave me the out, no one would argue it.
Then I remembered again that I was a grown woman who needed to act maturely for once, and refusing to go to a party because my long-lost boyfriend was there seemed a little childish. I still didn't want to go, but I had to be the bigger person.
I hated being the bigger person.
I shook my head, took a deep breath, and walked onto the lawn of the church. It was a half an hour into the party (I was claiming to be "fashionably late"), the band had already kicked off and the food had already been plowed through. Everybody was up and in their little clumps, talking and joking, rubbing their aching heads and giggling over how they felt like throwing up.
I saw Bennet on the outside of the tables, a Dr. Pepper in his hand and a smile on his face as he talked to Flo and Bernie. He looked up and saw me, so I turned my back and set the brownies on the food table. I took the plastic wrap off of them carefully, noticed they weren't arranged very nicely and so fixed them up. I kept turning the plate, looking for the best angle to display them, then wondered if I should've brought one of my mama's doilies to put underneath it.
"Are these your mama's old recipe?" Bennet, from behind, reached over my shoulder and took the top brownie. I turned to him just as he shoved the whole thing in his mouth. He chewed and nodded. "Yup, they are. God, I love these things."
"Good," I said quietly. I wasn't really mad, which was weird. I was still in a pretty good mood from the phone call with Stanley but, more than anything, I was just too tired to be mad. The hangover and the lack of sleep really didn't help.
I was just . . . there, I guess. Not mad, not happy, just there.
"Eat 'em all, I don't want any left-overs," I told him.
I balled the wrap in my hand and walked toward the trashcan and away from him. He, of course, followed me, but not before grabbing two more brownies.
I caught sight of his hand. His scraped knuckles were still pretty red.
I tossed the ball into the trashcan and he came to my side, lifting the first brownie to his mouth. His knuckles looked even redder with the late afternoon sun glinting off of them.
"Those look a little infected," I said, not knowing what else to say.
He raised an eyebrow until I pointed at his hand. Shoving the brownie into his mouth, he turned his knuckles to look.
"Oh," he said with a full mouth before chewing and swallowing. He shrugged and dropped that hand out of my sight, using the other to shove the last brownie into his mouth.
Well, he still ate like a teenage boy.
"They're fine," he said, the brownie making his left cheek puff out. "No big deal."
"You should have Stanley look at them when he gets back," I said, turning to the table of food to dust crumbs off the cloth and soak up a few food drips with napkins.
Bennet hummed, swallowing the last of his brownie. I heard him give the Nose Laugh and it made me look over my shoulder.
"Stanley Pike," he said with a light smile, like a guilty kid who knew he had something coming to him from his parents. "That should be interestin'."
I thought of my phone call with Stanley and smiled. "Oh yeah. He's got a bone to pick with you."
Bennet hummed. "I bet he does."
Looks like he wasn't so cocky now. It made me love Stanley even more.
"Don't be expectin' the coddlin' you got from everyone else," I said, balling up the dirty napkin and tossing it in the trash. I grinned, a little triumphant.
"He always was the number two hard-ass. Dr. Tough Love," Bennet said. Only when I turned back around and looked at him did he say, "You were the number one, of course."
"Just because we were immune to your charms doesn't mean we're hard-asses," I said, lifting my chin.
He smiled at me, just watching me. He used to do that a lot back in the day. I'd catch him staring at me with his weird little smile. I always wished I knew what he was thinking when he had that smile on.
I felt warm and a little shaky all of a sudden. Damn hangover.
"I meant it as a compliment," he said with a smile. It wasn't his cocky one. In fact, he hadn't been cocky at all.
I guess I did have that affect on him, just like Stanley said.
"You're not bein' an asshole," I said.
He woke from his little smile-stare, raising his brows. "An asshole?"
"Don't play dumb," I said. "Since you walked into Della's that first day you've been actin' like you were gone for sixteen seconds, not sixteen years. Nothin' but smirks and struts and your old bullshit."
He lowered his head a little with a sigh, putting his hands halfway in his pockets.
"And like we've said, I've never fallen for your bullshit," I said. "Why would I now?"
He gave another sigh, rubbing his forehead with one hand. I noticed he looked kind of beat, like me.
"Look, I didn't know how to go about that first meetin', all right?" he said, dropping his hand onto his thigh. There his fingers drummed against his pants. I was amused that he still did that fidget-y thing of his.
"The cocky bullshit act was what came out," he said. "Maybe that wasn't the best way to handle it, but it's not exactly the easiest situation to walk into."
I almost laughed. Stanley had been right again.
"I wasn't sure what I'd be goin' up against when I saw you," he said. "So I guess that was my way of protectin' myself."
"So why the nice guy act now?"
"It's not an act," he said. "I'm just tired of you runnin' away."
I rolled my eyes, wishing I was back in bed. I was so tired.
"Though you do make it easy to continue bein' an ass." He grinned. "It's still fun to rile you up. My charm may not work on you, but you still have that quick temper for me to work with."
"Do you want me to punch you again?"
"Nope," he said, shaking his head slowly. "I've got bruises from the last time, I'm good."
I shook my head at him.
"I've missed that," he said. "Rilin' you up. Seein' that red flash in your eyes."
"If this is your idea of reminiscin'– "
"All right, all right," he said, reaching out to put a hand on my wrist even though I hadn't moved to leave. "No more teasin', I promise."
I gave a tired laugh. "Yeah right."
"Well, I'll try my best I mean." He smiled, lowering his head almost shyly. If I had less control, the move might have killed me. Not that I thought it wasn't genuine, I just knew I couldn't let myself soften.
He had to protect himself? Well, so did I.
He slipped his hands halfway into his pockets again. He was wearing another nice number like the night before: dark jeans, the same black boots, but his button-up shirt was dark gray today and opened at the top to show a white T-shirt underneath. His sleeves were rolled up past his elbows again. I noticed he was wearing his evil cologne.
"Anyway," he said after a few silent seconds. "Wanna sit down and talk awhile?"
I felt the sickness in my stomach and closed my eyes. Dread, I thought, this was dread, and maybe fear, not hangover. It would have been easier to say yes, since he wasn't being a cocky ass about it, but at the same time my stomach twisted. I always trusted my gut and it was not happy.
But then again, maybe I would get some answers.
I opened my eyes and then my mouth to speak, but, of course, was interrupted.
"Malene!" Brad Hickock appeared, bringing Billy Beck and Taylor Nells with him. He smacked Bennet's shoulder with more force than he needed to, in my opinion. "How you feelin'? Are you as wasted as the rest of us?"
A flicker of annoyance went over Bennet's face but then he smiled. "No. I didn't drink last night."
The three goons looked at each other.
"Why not?" Taylor, the shortest and scrawniest of the three, said with a snort. "It's the only damn reason to go to a town event."
Bennet just shrugged, taking a sip of his soda.
"Yeah, Malene," Billy said, stepping forward. His scraggly hair came out the bottom of his dirty trucker's hat like furry octopus legs. He smiled his tobacco-stained smile and it made me wonder how desperate of a woman his wife had to be to marry such a sleaze. "You become a pussy while you were gone?"
Now I've never had patience for these idiots, even as adults, but something hot and red seized me as they laughed and snorted. The words were soon tumbling out of my mouth. "If you had an alcoholic daddy who beat the piss outta you, you wouldn't think it was pussy-like, you dumb shit!"
It came out in such a quick, hissing growl it took me a second to realize I was the one who said it. When I did, I didn't show it, just kept glaring them down as they quit their laughing and lowered their heads.
"Sorry, man," Taylor muttered, his dirty blond hair going in his face. "I forgot."
"Yeah, man, sorry," the other two said.
I looked over at Bennet, who was looking at me with a soft smile. "It's all right," he said. "I'm glad I still have Natty Jean here to defend my honor."
The red thing stuck around, keeping me hot in the temples. I scowled at him. "Go to hell, all of you." And I turned and walked away.
"Natty, come on, I was jokin'!" I heard him cry, but he was snatched up by some of the old ladies and unable to follow me.
I walked until I got to a tree standing a few yards from the tables, close enough that I still looked like I was part of the party but far enough away from the people that I could breathe. I leaned my back against the tree and closed my eyes, wishing for my bed, for sleep, for escape. Again.
I took a few deep breaths, demanding the red thing to fade away.
"Sulkin' again, I see," a nasally voice said.
I didn't hide my groan as I opened my eyes and saw Nancy Curtis standing in front of me, along with her friends Sissy Brewster and Barb Buller, PTA queens and the proudest of the proud married ladies of Keplar's. They all graduated with me and, like Nancy, had never really liked me, thanks to a reason that starts with a B and ends with an "ennet".
"And nosin' in other people's business again, I see," I grunted.
Nancy wrinkled her nose. "Y'know, we worked real hard to put this here party together. The least you could do is not pout all over it."
"I'm not doin' anythin', Nancy. I'm just standin' here," I said, rubbing my eyes.
"Yeah, standin' and sulkin', makin' everybody pity you when this is supposed to be about Bennet," Nancy shot back and the other two nodded.
It was like I was in high school all over again. It always was with them.
"Since when're you his knight in shinin' armor?" I said. "If you're so worried about him havin' attention, why don't you go giggle all over him? I know you've been dyin' to since he got here. Don't worry, your husbands are too hung-over to notice."
Nancy's face squished up. "You're such a bitch. You done nothin' but bite people's heads off whenever they mention his name, you run away from him or yell at him when he tries to talk to you, you're bein' nothin' but a brat and I don't understand why."
"You're right, you don't understand!" With the red thing swooping back and swinging, I stepped forward, lunging right into her face. She shrunk back, making me only push further. "The problem with you, Nancy, is you think you know everythin' about everybody here, you think you know our lives backwards and forwards, but you don't." I pushed the tip of my nose against hers. "There's a lot about me you don't know and there's a lot about me and Bennet you don't know. So why don't you shut the hell up and go polish your halo, you bloated old hag."
I stormed off, not wanting to be near her. I hadn't wanted to get mad but she just had to open her big stupid mouth.
"Fat-ass bitch," I heard her say as I walked away.
"I can't be a scrawny-ass bitch and a fat-ass bitch at the same time, Nancy," I said, referring to Nancy's favorite name for me. "So make up your damn mind."
As I stormed, I decided I was going to bed. That was the only place I wanted to be. I came after all, didn't I? I came, I brought brownies, I even talked to him. I had every right to leave. I had kept my promise to Della – she didn't say anything about staying the whole time – so I was out of there.
Then a hand wrapped around my arm and stopped me.
"Wait, Natty!" Brad chuckled and pulled me back, turning me until I was facing the three goons and Bennet. Somehow he had shaken the old ladies but got snatched up by the three idiots again.
"We were just talkin' about you," Brad said.
"Great," I muttered, pulling my arm from his grip. "Do you need me here to do it? Most do it behind my back anyway."
"We were just talkin' about how mad you used to get when we talked about goin' into Stanley's cellar," Taylor said. He and the other goons grinned like kings.
That damn cellar. Why was it I couldn't get away from high school today?
One of the town's many myths and legends – in other words, ways the townsfolk tried desperately to make Keplar's more exciting – was the "mystery" behind what was in Stanley's root cellar. It was old and rickety like most things in town and wasn't the only one. A lot of houses in Keplar's had root cellars, the only reason anybody cared about Stanley's was because he kept a lock on it.
People didn't lock anything up in Keplar's Grove, so this got some people in a tizzy.
They always forgot that Stanley was from the big city where you lock up everything. He locked his front door too – which nobody did – claiming it was an old habit that just didn't die.
And because the cellar was old and rotted, he kept it locked so no one would go down there and hurt themselves or get stuck or something. Knowing how brainless some people in town could be, I didn't blame him for worrying over that.
Didn't matter though. Stanley's root cellar became a thing of legend. Rumor had it that he stored everything from dead bodies to bombs to government secrets to drugs in there. Kids were daring each other all the time to break in and figure out Stanley's secret.
Stanley laughed at it all, of course. When we were about 10, he even went so far as to open it up, showing the kids and most of the town that it was nothing but a drafty, dirty stone stairway that led to a small underground room of empty shelves and a few old rusted drums full of tractor oil. He used to store some gardening equipment down there but the older he got – and the harder climbing stairs got – made it not worth it. So he locked it up and let it be.
And even though Bennet, the goons, and almost everybody had seen the inside of it, it wasn't enough. After it had been locked up for a few more years, more rumors began to pile up.
Desperate. Desperate for any kind of excitement.
"She would call us all kinds of nasty names, wouldn't she, Malene?" Brad elbowed Bennet.
"Yeah," he said, keeping his eyes on me. "She thought we were a bunch of goons."
"Still do," I said, then turned. "Gettin' your jollies off an old cob-webbed cellar? It was far time for you four to get lives. I gotta go."
"You never managed to get down there did you, Malene?" Brad said just as Bennet said, "Natty, wait, don't go yet."
"Yeah, Malene," Billy said, flapping a toothpick between his clenched teeth. "After Stanley had it locked up again, you said you were goin' to check it out. Oh hell, wasn't that on the night before you disappeared on us?"
I stopped and turned back. "What?"
Bennet rolled his eyes.
"Oh yeah! I forgot about that!" Taylor said, his brown eyes going wide. "Did you go?"
"No," Bennet said, looking at them like they were the biggest morons. "No, I didn't go down there, you know that, you were there."
"Was that what you were doin'?" I turned to him, hands on my hips as the memory of that last night hit me. "Was that why you were late comin' to bed?"
"God, you've got a great memory, Natty." Bennet shook his head with a smile. "I can't believe you remember that. Yes, that's why I was late. The cutters we had couldn't cut through that lock Stanley had so we gave up. Plus, I had to get back to you, so I went home."
"Oh yeah," Taylor said, looking a little dazed as he scratched what would have been a chin if he had one. He looked over at Brad. "That lock had an arm as thick as rebar."
"It sure did," Bennet said, pushing me out of the circle. "Hey, Natty, why don't we sit and talk? Over there, where we can be alone?" He shot a look at the goons.
Brad didn't catch it. "So you went back to Natty's house and then somehow disappeared. What happened, Malene?"
"Yeah, where'd you go, buddy?" Billy grinned, following Bennet as he tried to escape. "You still haven't told us."
"And I'm not gonna tell you assholes 'til I tell Natty," Bennet snapped. "I've said that a hundred times." He turned away from them and to me. "Let's go somewhere else, huh?"
But the goons couldn't be shaken. They were right there at our side, still poking at Bennet to give them answers and he looked about ready to pop them in the face. Even though we were now on the edge of the church yard, we were nowhere near alone.
Bennet let go of me to tell off the goons just as some other townsfolk swooped in to get some of their own Bennet time. He was completely swarmed.
So, when he turned his back, I slipped away all sneaky-like, and ran around the side of the church.
"Have fun with that," I mumbled, grimacing when my headache jabbed me above the left eye.
When I made it to the front of the church, something – a silent memory, maybe – made me look over to the right.
I never went to church anymore (something Della whined about all the time) so it wasn't often that I was faced with this certain memory, this certain place, like I was now.
The church is on the outskirts of the town, right next to the creak ("crick") that eventually runs behind Shellman's field. On the other side of the little river is a big grassy hill peppered with skinny trees more twig-like than tree-like. From the top of the hill, you can see the whole town and the country surrounding it.
Instead of going home and sleeping, I turned to the right and strode across the dirt and gravel of the church parking lot to the bridge over the crick. I kept walking when I hit the hill. When I reached the top, I sat down in the soft grass and caught my breath.
Dusk was coming and I was glad. Sunset was nice from this angle and it made Keplar's look almost pretty. I sat and waited. If he wanted to talk to me, he could come and find me. If he was anything like the old Bennet I knew, he would know where to go.
Did I want him to follow me there? I wasn't sure.
But I stayed put, waiting to see if some certain things never changed.