Ride the Rainbow Home (17 page)

"They're starting the music, Meg," he said. "Care to dance?"

"I'd love to," Meg answered, eager to be in Jim's arms.

They had barely begun dancing when Frank and Sally cruised by and suggested they change partners. Meg didn't mind dancing with Frank, but once he got things started, changing partners seemed to become the new fad. She danced with Bob Greenwood and Rod King. Then Ford cut in while Jim danced with Ford's wife and stared resentfully at Ford's back. It was three more dances before Meg found herself with Jim again.

"Thirsty?" he asked as the music ended.

"Yes," Meg agreed. "There's the bar. Shall we?"

"Any excuse to get you away from these barracudas," Jim whispered in her ear.

They sat at the bar and the bartender asked, "What'll you have?"

"Club soda," Jim said. "I'm driving."

Meg chose the same. The bartender was filling their glasses when Jim spotted a former classmate he wanted to speak to. He asked Meg if she'd like to join him, but Meg barely remembered Russ Walters and so she declined. Jim left with the promise that he'd be back in a moment. He left with a warning not to pick up any strays. Meg grinned, watched him go, and lifted the fizzing soda to her lips.

"Well, well, look what we have here." Her drink was interrupted by a thick drawl, liberally laced with suggestive undertones. Meg had the stray thought that this sounded like a scene from some sexual harassment prevention training video. She took a deep breath and looked up into the face of one of the most grotesque characters she'd ever seen.

The man was grossly overweight and his hairline had receded almost to the crown, though he was trying to disguise that by growing one side long and doing a comb-over. The subterfuge wasn't working for him any better than it did for most men. His face was beet-red, his nose swollen like a longtime drunk's, and Meg wondered if he knew how bad he looked. Then she remembered how it felt to be the butt of jokes about her appearance, and suddenly felt sorry for him, just not sorry enough to be the center of his attention. She gave him a wilting look and turned away, then someone behind the man said, "Get her, Danny!" and Meg's eyes widened. She turned back, slowly surveying the man who had caused some of the most painful moments of her younger years, but Danny Sherwood no longer looked like the "Most Desirable Male" in her class. Frankly, he looked awful.

"Aren't you the pretty little thing?" he said, his liquor-soured breath turning her stomach. "You came in with the longhair, didn't you?" Meg recognized the reference to Jim's appearance, plus an added racial slur as well. Local rednecks used "longhair" to refer to traditional Native Americans who wore the Navajo bun. Danny sat on the stool beside her and leaned close. "Hey-hey, Sugar. Care to spend some time with a real man?"

Sure. Do you know where to find one?
Meg thought the line, but didn't say it. The moment was too perfect—her fantasy coming to life.
Savor it,
she thought.
Say the perfect thing.
She pictured how her club soda would look washing over Danny's bald head and puddling on his beer belly. She imagined slashing him with a razor-sharp retort that would leave him wounded and bleeding for weeks; in this town, maybe years.

As she became more aware of the kibitzing to the side, she realized that half a dozen of Danny's old high school pals were there, intently watching this scene. It was perfect, all perfect. Danny Sherwood was at her mercy and she savored the sweetness of it. Meg thought of a half dozen devastating things to say, each of them accompanied by the upturned soda, and tried to decide which would do the most damage. She'd almost decided on the perfect line when Danny said, "Why don't you and me step outside for a while? I can show you a real good time."

Not on your life!
she thought and opened her mouth to destroy him. Then she looked at the pitiable creature before her and suddenly saw other things—Danny divorced from Lucretia Vanetti and dragged through painful revelations about his personal life; Sally telling her that Danny was still fixing cars for a living, trying to stay alive. She thought of how badly Danny had degenerated in only ten short years. Then suddenly, for no apparent reason, she thought of the rattlesnake she and Jim had encountered in the desert. She could hear Jim's voice saying, "You know, Meg, it's more afraid of you than you are of it." And in that instant, her heart was changed. She felt a compassion she'd never felt before—for snakes in the desert, and even for poor, sad, pitiful Danny Sherwood.

Her thirst for revenge vanished, quenched by the realization that she didn't have to do anything to hurt Danny. He had already done irreparable harm to himself. "Excuse me," she said, her voice filled with pity. She picked up her purse and went to join Jim.

* * * *

It was late when Meg and Jim said their last good-byes. "I'm surprised," Meg said as they slowly made their way toward Sally's house. "The creeps in our class grew up to be pretty nice people."

"It's amazing what a little maturity can do," Jim agreed. He stopped the truck in front of the Garcias' home and turned to take Meg's hand. "You were wonderful this evening, Meggie. You were the most beautiful, most poised, most attractive woman in the place. You've really made a comeback in this little town."

"I guess I'm ready to forgive this little town," she said, even sending a forgiving nod to her image of Danny Sherwood. Then she scooted closer. "Jim?"

"Yes, lovely lady."

"Kiss me good night?"

She was under his arm now, against his chest, her face just inches below his. "Delighted," Jim said, and leaned to touch her mouth with his, then moaned deep in his throat and tightened the embrace as Meg turned soft and pliant against him. Their kiss was long and full, warm and deeply tender. "Wow, Meggie Taylor!" he whispered. "What a temptation you are!" He opened his door and started around to hers.

"Shall I pick you up for church in the morning?" he asked at the door.

"I'd like that."

"And the family dinner at the farm?"

"Please. I enjoyed that so much."

"I'll see you in the morning then. Good night, Meggie."

"Good night, Jim." Meg went inside feeling happy, happier than she'd been in years.

* * * *

"Oh, no, I couldn't possibly," Meg said as she passed up a second helping of whipped potatoes. It was the third time she'd had to pass them by. Briefly she wondered if the McAllisters had taken a pact to put ten pounds on Meg Taylor today. Everything was wonderful.

Everything had been wonderful since the morning began. Jim had been as attentive as ever in church. There was hardly a moment when he wasn't touching her hand, stroking her hair, or putting an arm around her. When she looked at him, she often caught him staring at her with such an adoring expression that it almost took her breath away.

Then the rest of the McAllisters had joined them for the drive to the farm and had taken her in like family. Even the little ones were going out of their way to welcome her, and once Alice actually referred to her as Aunt Meg. She had looked at Jim with surprise and Jim had calmly answered the child, never letting on that there was anything unusual in the title. Meg felt her heart swell. No one had ever made her feel this sense of belonging.

After dinner Kate announced that it was Jim's turn at kitchen police and Meg could help. Meg didn't mind at all. She even enjoyed cleanup duty when she was with Jim.

The McAllister clan was well started in its afternoon musicale when Meg saw Kurt pull Chris aside for a brief whispered message. It was only two or three minutes later that Chris spoke up. "Somebody else is going to have to carry the tenor for a while. I need to go check on a couple of the sows. Jim, come with me, bro."

Jim was standing with his arm around Meg's waist. "Couldn't Kurt help you this time?"

"Nah, it's your turn. Come on."

"Go ahead, Jim," Kate urged. "We'll take care of Meg till you get back." Jim went reluctantly, promising to get back as soon as he could. The two were barely out the door before Kate said, "Hurry, Kurt, while you've got the chance," and Meg realized the family had set her up again. Kurt raised an eyebrow and started toward the kitchen and Meg followed.

"Okay, what's up? And why the cloak-and-dagger routine?" she asked as Kurt closed the kitchen door behind them.

"I didn't want Jim to see us talking. He isn't given to jealousy, but I saw the look he gave Ford Robbins when he tried to talk to you at church this morning and I didn't want to risk it."

Meg smiled warmly. "Okay. What's new?"

Kurt went into a quick explanation of a phone call from his old friend in Phoenix. "He's been offered a contract to do a documentary on the Navajo reaction to the power plant near Four Corners. He says if we buy the shop, that documentary can be our first job."

"A documentary?" Meg could hardly believe her ears. "I've never done a documentary before, but I think I could do it. Jim could help us with contacts and translation on the reservation."

"I could do the taping. You'd be great on camera, Meg. I think it's a hot idea. It would surely get us off to a great start."

"I don't know about the script. Do you know anybody we could bring in to help?"

"There are a couple of folks at the local community college who have free-lanced some script work in the past. We could talk to them."

"Wow," Meg said, sinking into one of the kitchen chairs. "This is really happening fast."

"Not if you don't want it to," Kurt said emphatically. "I can call him tomorrow and tell him the whole thing's off."

Meg took a couple of deep breaths. She needed to think. "How soon will he need an answer?"

"He's got a little time, but he needs to know one way or the other by the tenth, at least for the video contract."

"The tenth," Meg repeated. "And today is..."

"July thirty-first."

Meg paused, but then she nodded. "Okay. Yeah, I can do that."

"Good." Kurt offered a hand and helped her to her feet. "Be sure you're doing what you want to do, Meg," he cautioned as they went back into Kate's parlor. She had just begun to mumble the words to the song when Jim came back into the house.

* * * *

"No, no, no!" a small voice wailed. Meg groaned and rolled over in her sleep. Isabel had been fussy before she went to bed, but Meg, occupied in her own thoughts, hadn't paid much attention. Now she opened one eye and looked at the clock near her bed. Two a.m. She sighed and slumped against the pillow, but half an hour later, when the fussing had become decidedly louder, Meg grumbled to herself and lumbered down the hall.

"Thank goodness you're up!" Sally greeted her.

Meg yawned. "What's happening?"

"I'm not sure." Sally looked concerned. "Isabel's awfully fussy and she seems a little warm. I'd like to take her temperature, but I haven't had the chance. Sammy and Serena have both been crying off and on for the last half hour and I seem to keep running from one bed to the other."

"How can I help?"

"Can you tend Sammy while I check Isabel's fever? If Serena cries, just talk calmly to her till I get there."

"You've got it," Meg said with more confidence than she felt. She entered the babies' room and picked up Sammy, who was wailing in earnest now. Meg blew out a deep breath, remembering what it was like when they'd had one sick child. What if they had three?

"Sally?" she asked as she and Sammy entered the room where Isabel lay whining, thermometer in her mouth. "Do you think they could have whatever was bothering Tommy a couple of weeks ago?"

"Bingo!" Sally whispered. "Why didn't I think of that? Meg, you're getting good at this."

"It seemed like a reasonable deduction," Meg said. Just then Serena wailed too and Meg left to stroke Serena's back while she balanced Sammy on her hip.

Half an hour later they had taken all three temperatures—Isabel's was almost one-hundred two—and medicated all three with non-aspirin. When all the children were sleeping again, both women crawled back to bed. "Better rest while we can," Sally warned as Meg meandered down the hall. "Tomorrow may be a long day."

The comment proved prophetic. Isabel and the twins began the morning by throwing up. Meg groaned, feeling more than a little green herself.

"You poor dear," Sally said, taking Sammy from her. "You're not used to this. Here, let me take care of him while you grab a shower." But Meg gallantly stayed until all three children were clean once more. When she finally got a chance at the shower, she appreciated it more than any since she'd come back from the reservation. Unfortunately, she didn't dare stay long. Sally would surely need her again soon.

The pattern continued throughout the day, Meg stealing rare moments for herself when she could, tending sick babies with the majority of her time and energy. After the initial crisis, Sally took care in feeding the children. Serena went through a frightening bout of high fever in mid-afternoon; concern deepened into worry when the women were unsuccessful in bringing her temperature down. Sally called her pediatrician, but the doctor assured her there was no reason for concern unless the fever went over one-hundred-three or lasted longer than two days. There was little more they could do, except feel grateful that Tommy had already gone through his bout.