Wind Over Marshdale (8 page)

 

Ryder stood waiting beside the bike racks. He kicked a golf ball-sized stone and watched as it rattled along a few feet in front of him, stirring up a small cloud of dust in its wake. The school buses were just rolling away, crunching the gravel as they passed. He was waiting for his sister. He should probably just go inside, but she was always so slow and he didn't feel like going indoors.

“Get away from my bike!”

Ryder swiveled to see the same freckled boy who had taunted them a few days ago on their way home from school. “Sorry,” he mumbled, pushing off from the rack and heading in the direction of the school.

“Probably trying to steal it.” The boy's companion smirked.

Head down, his ears burning, Ryder entered the building. He met Whisper in the hall, smiling widely as she skipped to meet him.

“Hang on a sec,” he cautioned, surveying the landscape before opening the large, double doors.

“What ya lookin' for?” Whisper asked.

“Nothing,” Ryder clipped. “Come on.”

They walked a few paces, Whisper chattering constantly about her day, while Ryder swept their surroundings with his gaze. He hadn't told his dad about the other day and he didn't want a repeat incident.

“Hey, Ryder!” a voice called.

Ryder felt his insides freeze but he kept on walking. They'd almost reached the power poles at the edge of the school grounds. He grabbed Whisper's hand and forced her to walk a bit faster. “Quit being so slow,” he said between clenched teeth.

“Ryder, over here,” the voice called again. “It's me, Billy.”

Ryder stopped in his tracks. Relief tingled through his body. He really needed to get a grip. It had only been a week and he was already letting some bullies get the best of him. Ryder turned to see Billy Chang, one of the few friendly faces he'd met at school so far, trotting toward him. Not far behind were his sister Suzie, and another boy from his grade, Tyson McKinley.

“Hi, Ryder,” Suzie greeted. “You start your socials project yet?”

“Not yet,” Ryder responded. “Maybe this weekend.”

“This your sister?” Suzie asked.

Ryder nodded.

“My name is Whisper,” the little girl supplied. “And I'm in kindergarten.”

“I have a sister in kindergarten,” Tyson McKinley spoke. From what Ryder could tell so far, he was generally a shy sort.

“What's her name?” Whisper asked.

“Lisa.”

“I know her,” Whisper nodded vigorously. “We're friends.”

“Cool,” Tyson said.

“Don't you usually take the bus home?” Ryder asked Tyson.

“Stayin' in town for Youth,” Tyson answered.

“There's a bottle drive tonight,” Billy Chang rejoined the conversation. “You should come.”

Suzie groaned. “I hate getting all sticky and smelly from all those empties.”

“Too bad, sis,” Billy laughed.

“So? You want to come, Ryder?” Suzie asked.

“It's actually kind of fun, despite what she says. You can hang out with us,” Billy offered.

“I'll check with my dad,” Ryder responded.

“Can I come?” Whisper asked.

“No little kids allowed,” Ryder said, almost sternly. He looked over at the others for confirmation.

“Aw!” Whisper pouted.

“We're meeting at Pastor Todd's house,” Suzie explained. “It's the light blue one just two doors down from the church on the corner.” She pointed in the general direction.

Ryder raised his brows slightly. “It's a church youth group?”

“Yeah, but don't worry,” Suzie was quick to add. “It's lots of fun and things never get too, you know, religious. There are kids from every church that go and some that don't even go to church at all.”

“Are you guys…” Ryder hesitated, suddenly feeling self-conscious, “Are you Christians?”

“Yep,” Billy answered without hesitation while Suzie just nodded. Tyson remained mute, but he didn't deny it.

Suddenly Marshdale didn't seem like such a foreign and unwelcoming place. “Me, too,” Ryder said with a slight twist to his lips.

“No kidding?” Suzie exclaimed. “Well, for sure, you'll have to come, then. I can't say that there are a lot of committed Christians at Youth, but there are a few of us. Speaking of which, is Bonita coming, Tyson?”

Tyson gave a derisive snort. “Who knows? Of course that's what she tells Mom and Dad.”

“Bonita is Tyson's older sister,” Suzie informed Ryder. “She's in Billy's grade. Oh look! There she is now.”

Bonita McKinley and her friend sauntered toward the small group.

“Who's your friend?” Bonita asked, gesturing with her head at Ryder as she flipped her long blonde hair back off her shoulder.

“This is Ryder. He's new in town. Ryder, meet Bonita and Shaylee,” Billy introduced.

“Cool,” Bonita shrugged, her manner indifferent. She turned to her brother Tyson. “I'm going to be late for the bottle drive ‘cause Mr. Friest is giving some of us girls some extra coaching at six.”

Tyson frowned. “You know what Mom and Dad said about missing Youth.”

Bonita rolled her eyes and let out a frustrated sigh. “I'm not ‘missing Youth,' okay? I'm going to my volleyball practice. If we want to make it to the provincials this year we've got to practice.”

“Wow, I never heard anything about it,” Suzie commented, “and I'm on the team.”

Bonita gave the younger girl a withering look. “It's just for some of us seniors,” she explained. She and Shaylee exchanged a meaningful glance.

“They're not going to be happy,” Tyson said, frowning.

“Then don't tell them,” Bonita snipped. Beside her, Shaylee giggled. “I'll still show up later on, after practice. You'll either be at the recycling depot, or Pastor Todd's, right?”

“Right,” Billy affirmed.

“You sure you're not going to go to Silver Creek to the show?” Tyson asked. “I heard you talking earlier.”

“Shut up, will you?” Bonita glared. “I said I'd be there and I will, okay?”

“Don't worry, I'll keep her out of trouble,” Shaylee said sweetly. She flipped a strand of her streaked blonde hair out of her eyes and smiled.

Both older girls turned to leave, but as an afterthought, Bonita called over her shoulder, “Nice to meet you, Ryder.” They giggled and kept on walking, swaying their hips as they went.

“Sisters. Ugh,” Tyson commented under his breath.

Billy was still watching the girls' retreating figures. “I don't know. I think your sister just needs to get some of that rebellion out of her system. She'll come around.”

“My goodness, aren't you sounding like the wise old man,” Suzie teased.

“Ancient Chinese wisdom,” Billy grinned, tapping his head as he turned his gaze away from Bonita and her friend.

“Whatever,” Suzie laughed. “Anyway, we'll see you tonight, Ryder.”

Ryder nodded. “Yeah. I'd better get going. I gotta get
this
sister home.”

With a wave, the young people parted ways.

****

Friday. Although Rachel had enjoyed her first week, it had definitely been exhausting. Upon reflection, things were running quite smoothly. As smoothly as could be expected when that many five-year-olds met together for an entire day. There were the usual minor mishaps—a scraped knee, disputes over a favorite toy, inevitable bathroom parades—but in general, she was pleased with the progress of her students thus far. Things were settling into a routine of sorts.

Grace entered Rachel's classroom just as she was putting the last of her files away. “You ready?” she asked.

Rachel looked over at her friend with a confused frown. “Ready for what?”

“It's Friday. We're going to the hotel for a couple of coolers,” Grace explained. “I thought I told you.”

“Oh. Right.” She had forgotten. “Um, isn't it kind of awkward in such a small town? I mean, what if one of our students sees us?”

“What? Teachers aren't human?” Grace asked. “You worry too much. Besides it's only for a couple.”

Rachel packed the rest of her things into her school bag and slung it over her shoulder.

“You planning on dropping that off at Mrs. Beatry's on the way?” Grace asked, gesturing at the bag.

“Um, I hadn't planned on it,” Rachel said. “Should I?”

“I'd say. Just in case one or two turn into three or four. You wouldn't want to leave it behind.”

“I hadn't really planned on drinking that much,” Rachel explained.

“Who does?” Grace laughed. “Anyway, your place is on the way. It'll just take a second.”

How could Rachel explain to Grace that every day this week Mrs. Beatry had accosted her at the door with just “one wee item” that she had forgotten to mention earlier? First it was the hot water, next it was the screen door, followed by the volume of the stereo during her piano lessons. She really didn't want to be embarrassed in front of her new friend.

“You're worried about Mrs. Beatry, aren't you?” Grace guessed.

“How did you know?” Rachel asked in surprise.

“Don't worry. I'll handle her. I'll stop her outside the door and comment on her rose bushes. It works every time. You can slip in and out before she even notices.”

Rachel laughed. “You really have this all figured out, don't you?”

“Pro,” Grace nodded. “I lived with Mrs. Beatry myself when I first moved here.”

“Oh. Now I understand.”

****

“So? How was your day?” Thomas asked as Ryder strolled into the kitchen. He gave the pot of spaghetti sauce one more stir then covered it with a lid.

Ryder promptly took the lid off and took a deep whiff of the savory sauce. “Mmm. Smells good,” he breathed. He replaced the lid. “Can we eat now?”

“What's your rush?” Thomas asked. “I thought we'd hang out; watch a movie or something later.”

“Oh,” Ryder looked down at his feet. “Well, see, I got invited to this youth group thing tonight. I kind of want to go and I didn't think you'd mind since it is Christian.”

“Oh?”

Ryder continued in a rush. “They're doing a bottle drive or something at six-thirty. We're supposed to meet at the pastor's house.”

“Okay,” Thomas nodded. “That's good to hear. I'm glad you've made some new friends.”

“Great. So can we eat?”

Thomas laughed. “Sure. Grab a plate and I'll call Whisper.”

The threesome dished up at the stove and settled themselves at the table. Ryder was about to take a bite when Thomas stopped him. “Hang on there, kid. We didn't say grace yet.”

Ryder gave a sheepish grin and set his fork back down on his plate.

“Heavenly Father, I thank you for bringing us to this place. Thank you for our family and thank you for new friends. Help Ryder to have a great time tonight and help me to be patient with those people who have closed minds. Oh, and bless the food. Amen.” Thomas cleared his throat as he looked up. “I almost forgot to pray for the food,” he chuckled.

“Something going on?” Ryder asked, taking a huge bite.

“Oh, just a small roadblock from the Heritage Committee,” Thomas shrugged. “But nothing for you to worry about.” He changed the subject. “So tell me more about this youth group.”

“I don't know much,” Ryder said. “I guess I'll tell you more about it later.”

“You said it was a Christian group. Which church?”

“That big one on the corner when you drive into town,” Ryder replied.

Thomas nodded. “Good. I was wondering where we might go to church. I suppose we should try it out, since you already know some kids that go there.”

“Will there be Sunday School?” Whisper asked.

“We'll check it out, Princess,” Thomas responded.

“Goody!” she clapped her hands.

“Now eat your supper,” Thomas reminded. “Looks like you and me are home alone tonight.

****

“Come and join the staff meeting,” someone called as Grace and Rachel entered the dusky confines of the hotel bar. “You're late,” the woman noted, raising her beer bottle. It was the sixth grade teacher, Cynthia Weatherington.

“Where is everybody?” Grace asked, taking a seat.

“You know how it is,” Cynthia quipped. “The rest of the world has a reason to go home.” She seemed to be joking, but Rachel couldn't be sure. Cynthia was actually a very attractive woman, probably in her late thirties, with an athletic air and an outgoing “in-your-face” personality.

There were only three other staff members present besides Grace and herself. Carl Binder, the proverbial “scattered genius” who taught the senior sciences; Hal Hollander, industrial arts; and Cynthia.

“Sheila working nights?” Grace asked Hal.

He nodded. “All week.” His eyelids, which always looked somewhat hooded, seemed especially droopy this evening. His longish hair and moustache gave him the look of a drunken desperado. He looked suspiciously reminiscent of a hippie from the seventies, but apparently ran a very well rounded shop program.

“Hal's wife is a nurse at the hospital in Silver Creek,” Grace informed Rachel.

“I see.” The barmaid had come to take their order. “Um…a beer, I guess,” Rachel said. She didn't really like beer all that much, but it seemed like the safest choice. She surveyed the room for any other familiar faces. There was Hudson Grey, the old farmer who had been complaining so profusely at Sonny's Café the other day and with him… Rachel blinked and felt a quick flutter in her breast as she recognized his drinking partner. It was Bart, the town drunk, as Con McKinley had described him. She quickly turned back to her own group.

“Anyone for pool?” Carl asked.

“Not sure my ego can take it,” Hal joked.

“Coward,” Cynthia teased, giving Hal a playful swat.

“Are you kidding? Nobody beats Carl at pool.”

“Pool is simply a game of physics,” Carl explained. “If you understand the principles, there's nothing to it.”

“Spoken like a true scientist,” Grace noted.

“Okay, let's go get it over with,” Hal said with a sigh as he stood up. He downed the rest of his beer and he and Carl made their way to the pool table in the far corner.

“He's a very talented man,” Cynthia commented, watching the men's retreating figures.

“Which one?” Rachel asked.

“Hal. He's an artist as well, you know.”

“Oh? What kind of art?” Rachel asked.

“Leather, pottery, wood – pretty much anything where you use your hands,” Cynthia explained. She took a swig of her beer. “You attached?” she asked abruptly.

“No,” Rachel replied. “You?”

Cynthia shook her head. “Not presently, no. Not that I wouldn't like to be. It's just hard to find a half decent guy, you know?”

“Amen to that,” Grace put in.

“Yeah, I was married once, but it didn't work out,” Cynthia continued. “At least there were no kids involved. I always seem to pick ‘em, though. The last guy was a geologist. A real jerk.” She winced, remembering.

“Speaking of jerks,” Grace gestured toward the door with her head. Steve Friest had just entered and was scanning the room.

“I hear he's available,” Rachel said with a grin.

“Been there, done that,” Cynthia quipped. “And believe me, the anticipation is definitely better than the reward.”

“Look the other way,” Grace advised. “He might not notice us.”

“Hello. Mind if I join you?” another man said. He didn't wait for an answer, but sat down beside Rachel. “Harley Dickson – not Davidson.” He laughed at his own joke and stuck out his hand for a shake.

Rachel declined the offer. “Yes. We've met,” she said stiffly. She remembered the sleazy man from the grocery store quite well.

He adjusted his ball cap and scrutinized Rachel for a few seconds, as if trying to remember. “Right,” he said slowly, a smile spreading across his face, showing off his chipped front tooth. He had obviously had a few drinks already, judging from his slightly slurred speech and silly grin. “What was your name?”

“Where's Connie this evening?” Grace interrupted. “At home with the children?”

Harley frowned. “I guess.”

“I have one of Harley's beautiful children in my class,” Grace stated informatively, casting Harley a sidelong glare.

“Huh?”

“Sure. You know me, Mr. Dickson,” Grace replied, a pleasant smile in place. “I'm little Jenny's teacher.”

“Oh.” He sat in mute consideration for a few seconds. “Well, see ya,” he finally finished sheepishly and stood.

They watched him amble away.

“Pig,” Grace said under her breath.

Hal had returned to the table while Carl had taken on another opponent.

“Another round?” Cynthia suggested.

“I think I'm gonna call it a night,” Hal replied.

“So early?” she asked.

“Yep. I've gotta get up early tomorrow.”

“Actually, I should probably head home myself,” Cynthia reconsidered. She downed the rest of her drink and stood. Grace and Rachel watched as the two teachers left together.

“Now that's interesting,” Grace mused.

“What do you mean?” Rachel asked.

Grace shrugged. “Oh, I don't know. Just the way they both suddenly decided to leave at the same time. He did say his wife was working nights…”

Rachel frowned. “You think…?”

“Who knows? Don't imagine it's the first extracurricular for either of them.”

Rachel shook her head. “From the rumors I keep hearing, Marshdale sounds like a regular soap opera.”

“Small towns are like that,” Grace said. “There's not a lot to choose from, so people kind of pass each other around. It's the same with the kids at the high school. Half the population has slept with the other half. Kind of like hot potato.”

“That's terrible!” Rachel exclaimed. “Is that all people think about out here? Sex?”

“And they don't where you're from?” Grace asked.

Rachel frowned. “Well, maybe, but it's more discrete.” A pang of remembrance struck her heart and she shook it off. “Let's talk about something else.”