Hope looked at her new friend, her red hair sticking up, her eyes wide and glassy, and really regretted that she couldn’t use Shelly. She would have made a good alien. “Sorry, but ever since Myron, I don’t use real people anymore.”
“Bummer.”
As Hope gently blew on the tips of Shelly’s fingers, she glanced up into her drugged gaze. Now probably wasn’t the best time to ask Shelly about the Donnellys. Not when she was high and her tongue was loosened by drugs, but maybe just a few simple questions wouldn’t hurt. If Shelly was uncomfortable about discussing her old neighbors, Hope wouldn’t press the issue. “How well did you know Minnie Donnelly?” she asked.
“Why?”
Since it was no secret and half the town knew anyway, she confessed, “I’m writing an article about what happened with Hiram.”
Shelly blinked and apprehension narrowed her gaze. “For The Weekly News of the Universe?”
“No. I’m going to send out queries to more mainstream publications.” She told Shelly about her ideas, and once she explained that she wasn’t interested in writing a salacious article about kinky sex, Shelly relaxed and opened up.
“Hiram could be a real son of a bitch, and I didn’t like him very much. Still, I’d hate to see his sex life exploited for the sake of selling magazines,” Shelly said. “There was more to his life than what he became. More than hookers and sex clubs and pornography. Ask anyone in town, and they’ll all have a different story to tell about him. They’ll also tell you that he treated everyone the same.” Shelly talked about Minnie and about how she’d been the real control freak. “Everyone thought she was a saint, but I lived across the street from her, and I know she ruled that house with an iron fist. I could hear her yelling and hollering all the time. No wonder her kids left and never came back. No wonder that after she died, Hiram felt lost without someone to beat up on him.”
Hope carefully reached for Shelly’s injured hand and applied a top coat to her nails. “You sound like you feel sorry for him.?
?
“Hell, no. He was too big a pervert for me to feel sorry for him. Toward the end, he was hiring girls just shy of their eighteenth birthday. I don’t feel sorry and I don’t understand, but I can look at the situation and see how it happened. Out from underneath Minnie’s thumb, he just spiraled out of control.”
“You told me several weeks ago that Hiram got careless toward the end and brought girls home. Did you ever see anything suspicious?”
“No.” Shelly lifted her bandaged hand and looked at her nails. “When are you going to write the article?”
Hope didn’t believe her but she let it drop. “I’m waiting for the FBI report. Once I look it over, I’ll figure out where to start,” she answered. But first she needed to finish the story she was getting paid to write, and in order to do that, she had to think about aliens and not a certain smooth-talking cowboy. “I’d hoped you could show me those waterfalls you and Paul told me about. I wanted to take some pictures of them for my next alien article.” Hope shrugged. “But I can wait until you’re feeling better.”
“Ask Dylan to take you. He knows where they are, but ask before Friday, because he always takes time off when Adam is away.” Shelly settled back into her chair. “He stays up at the Double T, helping out his mama and brother-in-law. If you don’t ask him before he leaves, chances are you won’t see him for a couple of weeks.”
Two weeks. For two weeks she wouldn’t have to worry about seeing Dylan or think about the slow touch of his hands or his hungry mouth on hers. Two weeks would give her the time she needed to clear her mind and concentrate on her work. Which was the reason she’d come to Gospel in the first place. Now that her career was finally back on track, she needed to focus and push ahead. But suddenly work wasn’t enough and two weeks sounded like a very long time.
Wednesday night, Dylan folded the last of Adam’s laundry and packed it in his suitcase. Adam stared at him through his huge green eyes, his mouth a straight line of apprehension. About this time every year, Adam’s excitement waned and gave way to anxiety.
“You aren’t going to cry this year, are you?” Dylan asked his son.
“No. I’m bigger now.”
“Good, ‘cause you make your mom feel real bad when you do that.” Every year Adam promised not to cry, and every year he held out until it was time to let go of Dylan’s hand. “Tomorrow, after your haircut, we need to go to Hansen’s Emporium and buy you new skivvies,” he said and set the suitcase on top of the dresser.
“And a new snorkel, too. I accidentally broke mine.”
Dylan ordered Adam’s dog off the bed before he tucked his son between his sheets. He didn’t know why the snorkel was suddenly important, but Adam probably had his reasons. “Put it on your list.” He brushed the soft hair from Adam’s brow and asked, “Did you find your mama a special rock yet?”
“Yep, it’s white.”
Dylan bent and kissed Adam’s smooth forehead. “Dream good dreams.”
“Dad?” Dylan knew what Adam would ask by the tone of his voice. He asked every year. “Come with me this time.”
“You know I can’t. Who’s going to stay here and take care of your dog?”
“She can come with us. You, me, Mom, and Mandy. It’ll be fun.”
Dylan moved to the bedroom door and turned off the light. “No, Adam,” he said and watched his son turn on his side, turning his back on him.
Dylan hated July. Absolutely hated it. He hated coming home and not stepping over the toys he’d told Adam to put away. He hated the quiet of his house and the emptiness of Adam’s room. He hated eating dinner alone.
Several floorboards creaked as Dylan walked down the short hall and into his dark bedroom. Through the slats of open blinds, moonlight spilled across the end of his bed and dresser and climbed up the wall. Slices of light slashed across his chest as he pulled his shirt over his head. He tossed it toward an old wing chair and missed. Tomorrow he would take Adam to buy new underwear; the day after, he’d drive him to the airport in Sun Valley and watch him board a private plane with Julie. He’d watch her take him away.