

### Return to Redlin

By

Lazette Gifford

Copyright 2010 Lazette Gifford

An ACOA Publication

Smashwords Edition

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### Chapter 1

Trouble walked through the door of the Gas and More at three minutes before closing on a cold Thursday night in October.

I glainced up from counting change and frowned. No car had pulled up to the pumps. However, a tall man in a long black overcoat and a wide-brimmed hat pulled the door open against the wind. His right sleeve hung loose and I feared there might be a gun in his hidden hand where I couldn't see. There'd been a rash of robberies in the neighboring counties, and faced with the possibility --

The door swung shut. "I just want a couple sodas and some chips. Am I too late?"

His question, at least, sounded less ominous than what I'd expected. I mean people don't usually ask if they're too late to rob you, right?

"Sure, there's time." I waved toward the shelves. My arm trembled a little, but I don't think he noticed.

The guy limped back toward the sodas and beers and I started to count quarters again. I gave up when I lost track after half a handful. The alarm clock under the register went off, reminding me of the time. Too many nights I sat here far past midnight, reading and losing track of the world. I'd finished my book early tonight, though, so I'd already mopped up, straightened the magazine rack and dusted the little stand of porcelain dolls back in the corner. I only had to wait for the tall, dark stranger to get his sodas and chips and I'd be pretty much done for the night.

He seemed to be having some trouble. "Damn," he muttered softly. I heard him easily in the empty store. "Okay, I'm going to stick one of these sodas in my pocket until I get up there. I can't carry them in one hand. Don't want you to think I'm shoplifting."

"Fine." My heart had stopped doing double time. I even kind of felt sorry for the guy as he limped back to the cash register, put the items on the counter and looked up.

My heart did a double thump for an entirely different reason. I hadn't seen Derrick Weston since about two months before graduation, when the police dragged him out of class and took him off to Juvenile Detention down at the county seat. That had been a little over ten years ago.

"Hey, you're Ginger, aren't you?" he asked and smiled.

Hell. I never suspected he even knew my name back at Jefferson High, when one of those smiles would have made any of the girls melt. Oh yes, the local bad boy. . . and from cast and sling on his right arm, he probably hadn't changed much.

"Yes, Ginger." I finally smiled. "Sorry. You caught me by surprise, Derrick."

"I could tell."

"What are you doing in town?"

"I came for my grandfather's funeral," he said, eyes narrowing.

"Oh, right. I'm sorry. I forgot Lily --"

"Most people forgot Lily." His face hard-edged and angry, which I remembered far better than the smile.

"I forgot Lily was your mother," I said, finishing my statement. I rang up the sale, feeling a needle of irritation as I jabbed at the keys. He had no right to judge me. "I remember her very well. She taught my art class at church when I turned ten, and her death . . . I had never lost a friend before."

He stared at me for a moment, surprised and shocked. I'd forgotten he was Lily's son. Derrick had continued to live with his step-father and older step-brother after Lily died. Tom Weston later married Markie, who brought another four kids of her own, and they had three more... and somehow I had forgotten Derrick wasn't their son. I think almost everyone had forgotten -- but not him. Not from the way he reacted to the mention of his mother.

He pulled out a hotel key and a billfold from his back pocket while I put the sodas chips in a bag. He didn't appear to be much like a junk food addict, not from what I could see of his chest and arm. A cast covered the right arm from above the elbow right up over the fingers. His face had a little scar above the right eyebrow, not too old. He'd filled out, but not changed much. My mother had called him 'Elvis-pretty' back ten years ago. He wore his hair longer and he had grown a little mustache, and . . . and he I realized he had trouble getting money out of the billfold while I gawked.

"Here, let me," I offered.

He nodded and sat the billfold down. I pulled a five out, noting a lot of money in there -- and gave him back the change.

The door to the shop opened again. I looked up with a start, and found Deputy Miller stepping inside. My heart settled right back down again.

"Everything all right, Ginger?" he asked, lifting his chin toward Derrick.

"Fine."

Derrick turned around, and I thought I saw his shoulder's straighten. Miller blinked and his hand almost went to his gun. Not a good reaction.

"Son of a bitch. What are you doing back in town?" Miller demanded. He stopped and shook his head. "Your grandfather's funeral."

"Yes," Derrick said, his own voice sounding cool.

"What you say we have a little talk, boy." Miller signaled him outside.

Derrick grabbed his bag and followed Miller out, who stood holding the door open for him. I thought the reaction uncalled for, to be honest. I mean Derrick had been hell on wheels (especially when they weren't his own) back when he was seventeen but now? I thought about the cast, the limp and the scar, and wondered if he'd changed at all. Miller had been a deputy back then, too. He might have a reason to think Derrick still needed some rules laid out.

I couldn't clearly see, but I noted when Miller left and Derrick had already started back to the hotel. Good. I quickly counted the change, dropped the money bag into the floor safe, and grabbed my keys --

And I saw Derrick's billfold on the counter where I had put it when I took the five out. Damn. Well, I could walk past the hotel on the way home. I grabbed the wallet and my coat and keys. Then I dropped the wallet --

The billfold fell open to a picture of a Derrick, a lovely oriental woman and two kids about six or seven years old. They were all laughing.

Married. Well, I guess he'd changed quite a bit after all. I put the billfold into my pocket, shut down the pumps and locked up the shop. I only lived seven blocks from the store and even on cold October nights I usually didn't mind the walk home. The Highway Hotel -- the only one in town -- sat a couple blocks down the road from the Gas and More. I could see the police car pull away from the lot and sighed with relief. I'd give Derrick back his billfold and head for home.

End of the Adventure.

As I walked toward the hotel I could see Derrick slowly making his way up the outside steps to the second floor. They should have given him a room on the lower level, even if they had to move someone out. He shouldn't be trying to take the stairs -- but he reached the top without a mishap. I'd been holding my breath. I almost called out as he headed across the walkway to his room, but I feared he might decide to come back down stairs to meet me.

I hurried across the empty, weed-filled lot between the gas station and the hotel. The night felt chilly and uninviting as I pulled the jacket collar up around my neck, trying to block out the invasive cold. Winter whispered in that wind and I feared we were going to be in for a long cold season this year.

I trudged across the half frozen ground and reached the corner of the hotel's Wisteria Café and the hard cement of the shared parking lot. I thought longingly of home and a cup of hot cocoa before bed. I had to be up early tomorrow to work at the Senior Center for a few hours. I started to move a little faster.

I reached the stairwell just as I heard a junker coming down the highway, and the loud barks of a couple dogs. I looked out to the highway and confirmed what I feared. Junior pulled into the parking lot. He left the truck running -- no muffler and louder than hell, even sitting still. The dogs yowled when he got out. Junior Weston and his father supposedly raised hunting dogs, but some of the people in town thought he might be part of a dog fighting and gambling ring. People pretty much thought anything bad about the Westons.

"Shut the hell up," he shouted and smacked one on the nose. "Stay."

I frantically tried to find a place to hide. I didn't like Tom Weston, Jr., and I didn't trust him. I sure didn't want to be caught heading to his brother's hotel room. I stepped back around the corner of the stairs and flattened myself against the shadow of the wall, hoping his dogs stayed put, too. I didn't want them to find me here.

Junior swaggered toward the stairs I knew I didn't want to be anywhere in his sight. I shivered, and not from the cold this time. Junior bulked about 250 pounds -- mostly a beer gut he'd already had in high school. He stomped up the stairs, and I heard him saying the door room numbers aloud as he walked along. 201, 202, 203, 204, 205....

He kicked the door as though he expected it to pop open. He cursed louder and I could hear people in other rooms moving and protesting. Maybe they'd call Miller back. I hoped so.

A door open.

"What the hell do you want, Junior?" Derrick demanded.

"Pa sent me to get you and bring your ass to the trailer."

"I am not at the beck and call of your father. I thought you'd have figured that out years ago. Go home. Go away. Don't come near me again."

"I said Pa wants you."

I heard movement, followed by a woof of surprise from Junior. I dared to stick my head around the corner and peered up the stairs. To find Junior on his knees. Derrick took a step forward and leaned down. He caught Junior by the hair, jerking his head back up. I could see fear Junior's face.

"Get the hell away from me, Junior. I don't want you or any of the other Westons to come near me while I'm here. I'll be gone in a couple days."

He let go of Junior's hair, and Junior made a swipe at his leg, but Derrick, despite his injuries, easily stepped out of the way. He reached down with his free arm and caught Junior by the shoulder, dragging him toward the stairs.

I scrambled back to my hiding place, a hand over my mouth for fear I'd make some sound. Junior hit the first stair and bounced down a couple more before he finally caught hold and stood. He gasped, but I think the reaction came from anger, and for once he didn't curse at all. He also didn't go back up the steps. I thought Derrick must stand above him, blocking the way. Junior stomped down to the bottom of the steps and turned around. I feared he would see me, but I suspect his anger for Derrick blinded him to everything. I got lucky again.

"You -- you're going to regret this, Derrick," he shouted.

He stalked away, back to the truck, gunning the engine and making so much noise he probably woke half the town. He tore out into the highway, narrowly missing an oncoming car before he swung back into his own lane. The dogs howled and barked and I thought I could still hear them a mile away, where the road curves just before the acre of land Tom Weston owned, littered with old trailers and junky cars.

"You -- down there by the stairs -- you can come out now," Derrick said, his voice still gruff with anger.

I held my breath for a moment before I daringly stepped forward and around the corner. Derrick stood at the top of the stairs, glaring downwards.

"What the hell are you doing here?" he demanded.

"I -- you --" I caught my breath and settled my nerves as best I could. "You left your billfold at the store. The hotel is on the way home -- but I didn't want to run into Junior."

"You should have left." He started down the stairs, still far too angry.

"You don't have to come down. I can --" But he kept coming down, stomping in a way that reminded me too much of Junior right then. I hurriedly grabbed the billfold out of my pocket and started up the stairs. He met me half way, and I could see the anger still in his eyes.

"You shouldn't be here. Go home."

"Yes, and you're welcome." I shoved the billfold into his hand and turned away, going back down the stairs and across the lot without turning back, though I could tell he didn't go back up to his room until I had gone across the parking lot and down the side street toward my apartment..

Funny, I didn't feel cold at all now.

Chapter 2

The next morning, I awoke in a foul mood and didn't remember why until came out into the living room and saw my coat where I had dropped across a chair rather than hanging it up. Derrick. Annoyance. I snarled, though quietly. My roommate and cousin, Sonia, had been in bed by the time I got home and still asleep this morning. The girl did like to sleep. We saw little of each other, except to occasional cross paths in the early evening or on the weekends. I virtually lived alone.

After my shower I sat in a warm robe, staring out the kitchen window while I waited for the toast to pop up. I could see all the way to the highway from here, with a view of the second floor of the hotel and the gas station sign rising up into the gray sky. Sometimes my world seemed too small and confining. Other times, it felt safe, small, and warm.

I liked the people here. I even liked my jobs -- the Gas and More at night where I got to visit with friends who stopped by and the Senior Center three days a week where I helped coordinate events and visited with older friends. I usually stayed through the noon meal before heading home for a few hours and then on to the night shift at the Gas and More.

And that was my life. Sometimes I even admitted how pathetic I sounded.

However, this morning those thoughts quickly turned to indignation at the memory of Derrick Weston's rude behavior the night before. At least the locals didn't --

Derrick and Junior had both been raised here.

Sonia stumbled out of her bedroom, her short hair standing straight up and her makeup smeared.

"What are you doing up so early?" I asked.

"Taking Tim for a job interview over in Dow Station," she said through a yawn. "Why do they do these things so damn early?"

I surreptitiously at the clock over the sink \-- Nearly 9 am. I clamped my mouth shut over a rather too snide 'poor baby' remark and buttered my toast instead. "You want to me to drop a couple more pieces of toast in for you?"

"Cool." She gave an emphatic nod. "I'm going to take a quick shower."

I knew Sonia's idea of quick, so I put the toast in and got out her favorite orange marmalade. I headed off to work before she had turned off the water.

Most days I didn't mind working in the Senior Center, but not today. Jackson Hoy wouldn't be there and I'd see the loss -- and sometimes the fear -- the eyes of the others. I'd liked Mr. Hoy, and I'd miss him. He'd been one of the few who had shrugged off death as inevitable, and I had never asked him about his religion. I don't know what he believed, but I hoped things were better for him now. I hoped he could go for hikes again, like he used to talk about.

I didn't want to be morose, so I took my time walking to work and doing my best to improve my attitude. The walk still felt good despite the cool, damp weather and I worked off some of the anxiety from my encounter with Derrick Weston. I'd be glad when he left town again. The Westons were nothing but trouble.

Mrs. Hibble had already opened the Center when I arrived. She had the same resigned expression I saw so often these days: Inevitable loss, nothing more we can do.

"I think we'll have a light turn out today," she said as we put our coats away in the closet. She headed straight for the kitchen and I followed behind. "I heard we might get ice today, so I doubt we'll get anyone from the farms."

"Ice?" I grimaced. "Just as well I didn't drive the car."

"Yes." She nodded as she opened the refrigerator. Then she shook her head. "Or no. We need milk and cheese. Do you think. . . ."

She let the words trail off. I hated going to the local grocery store. Mr. Bilton, who owned the place, took the presence of the Gas and More as a personal affront. Since I'd worked for him for two summers in high school, he seemed to think that gave him a proprietary claim on me, even over my uncle Pat, who owned the Gas and More.

"I'll go," Mrs. Hibble said with a sigh. She started back to the front. "You had better start making the rolls \--"

"No, no. I'll go." In the scheme of things, Mr. Bilton's attitude wasn't the worst thing I'd be facing over the next couple days.

"Thank you, dear. Tell him to put everything on the bill."

I nodded, grabbed my coat, and headed back outside. The sky hadn't brightened much since dawn, and low gray clouds seemed to turn everything dull, reflecting my mood. I knew nothing good would come of this day.

I'd hardly walked a block when it started raining. I sighed and trudged on.

Mr. Bilton saw me coming into the store. Great. Wonderful.

"Well, Ginger," he said in the same nasally voice I had hated even when I liked the man. I didn't like him now. "What could you possibly want at my little store?"

"Milk and cheese for the Senior Center." I smiled bright as I went past. I'd learned to ignore bad manners, which only annoys people more. I walked past him.

Then things got worse. I found Markie Weston with Reba Abbott in the dairy aisle. We went to school together, Reba and me. We fought like cats and dogs in those days, and the relationship never got better. Ever since I came back home she'd been making pointed remarks about how her wonderful marriage, to counter my divorce. Well, I supposed the marriage was great if you didn't count Shep Abbott drinking most of the take home pay, and their three kids -- still in grade school and already wtih records most delinquents didn't have by the age of sixteen. Very few stores even allowed the kids in the door, in fact.

"Ginger. Didn't expect to see you here," Reba said, her eyes looking me up and down as though she thought I'd just gotten back from my latest alien abduction.

"And I didn't think you came out in the light of day," I answered.

Her lips drew back in a snarl, and I half expected to see vampire teeth. But I went past, nodding to Markie. I swear, the woman appeared more dazed and disconnected each time I saw her. I couldn't imagine what she and Reba talked about, and I didn't care.

I headed down the aisle, grabbed a gallon of milk and the three sets of cheese we use for lunch. Reba and Markie had followed me, and when I turned around, Reba stood far too close. She smelled like she'd had a beer or two already this morning.

"Ginger, I don't suppose you know, but my old boyfriend is back --"

"Derrick? Sure. We talked last night." My smile grew brighter this time. "Not that him being here should matter to you, with your great marriage and all."

As I walked up to the register, the hair on the back of my neck stood up. I glanced back to see the two of them leaning close and whispering. Even Mr. Bilton didn't take any more time to berate me. He had his eyes on them.

The encounter left a sour taste in my mouth. I hated being snippy, but Reba always brought the worst out in me \-- and everyone else, including her husband and kids. I'd tried being nice to her when I first came back home, but she turned on me every time. I'm sure the fact I'd talked to Derrick and she hadn't (I assumed), had to have been the best little jab I'd ever managed. I certainly didn't mention how badly the conversation went.

The rain fell harder on the way back to the Senior Center, but when I came in the door dripping wet, Mrs. Hibble and Mrs. Abrams -- one of the older women who showed up nearly every day -- started mothering me. I had hot cocoa and a warm spot, and nice fresh rolls when they came out of the oven. I think it helped them having something to do.

Mrs. Abrams sat by me and we talked about planting fall bulbs and if we were in for a long winter -- and then she suddenly stopped, brushed a strand of white hair from her face, and frowned.

"You shouldn't be here," she said, startling me. "Oh, we appreciate you Ginger, but you shouldn't be stuck in this little town, filling your time with jobs and with no time for a life. You're too young to be hanging around with us old fogies all the time."

"You're interesting people!"

"Well yes we are." She laughed, dropping a hand on my arm. Her thin fingers felt cold. "But that's because we went out and had a life. You had a bad turn with your ex-husband. I had two ex-husbands before I got things right."

"Did you?" I asked, shocked.

"I did. I didn't give up just because the first two turned out to be such stinkers. You shouldn't give up, either. Stop hiding in this little dark hole of a town. Get out and have a life!"

"But --"

Her long, thin fingers tightened on my arm. "No excuses."

Then she stood and went off for her daily card game with Patricia Peters. Both of them cheated and made up rules on the fly, and spent so much time laughing they barely got through two rounds in an afternoon. No one else would play with them any more, and they didn't care. They had fun.

When had I stopped having fun? When my ex-husband, the one I had helped put through college, came and told me he'd fallen in love with one of his fellow students? Had I given up when he told me the two of them had far more in common than he and I ever would?

I had been working for years toward a time when my lawyer husband would have a good wage and I'd get to go back to school and do things for myself. And when the marriage ended, I came home and went to work... and never worked toward a better future again.

I spent the rest of the afternoon alternating between trying to imagine a better future and wondering if trying something different could possibly be worth the possible pain. I felt comfortable here. There's a lot to be said for comfortable and safe.

But then I thought of myself, fifty years from now, with no stories to tell, sitting here in the Senior Center and wondering where the time had gone and why I'd never done anything with my life.

None of the thoughts put me in a better mood.

And the rain poured down all morning.

Chapter 3

The café felt like springtime, bright and inviting when I walked in out of the torrential downpour. I stood soaking up the warmth as I hung my jacket on a hook by the door. I almost always stopped for a salad before I went to work at the Gas and More so I didn't nibble on the snacks the shop all night. Sometimes it even worked.

I glanced across the street at the hotel, wondering if Derrick sat up there in his room or not. Did he have friends to go visit? From what I'd seen last night, he had no intention of visiting with the Westons.

I dismissed him from my mind until he stood over my table a few minutes later. I felt nearly as startled to see him now as I had been when he walked into the Gas and More last night.

"I came to apologize," he said.

I started to say something and fumbled my fork, which hit the side of the salad bowl and bounced off and slipped past my fingers like a live thing as I tried to catch the damned thing. The fork clanged against the table, hit the seat beside me, and landed on the floor at my feet. I could feel my face going bright red.

"No one has ever acted that way when I apologized before."

"Probably because it's so rare you wouldn't know." I grabbed the other set of silverware on the table and unwrapped the napkin. Then I made an attempt to improve my manners. "Thank you for the apology."

"I -- I'd had a bad encounter with my step-brother." He grimaced and shifted as though his leg bothered him. "But that still doesn't give me the right to take it out on someone else."

He started to step past. I lifted a hand. "You can join me if you like, but I'm going to be leaving for work in a few minutes."

He smiled. Yeah, my heart did a little flip again, damn high school hormones come back to haunt me. He slid into the seat and Annie came back, an eyebrow raised as she took his order for a cup of coffee. The look she gave me would have been comical if I hadn't been turning red again.

Derrick ignored her and my blush. I liked him better again.

"The town doesn't seem to have changed much," he said, glancing out the window where a car sped past on the highway. "Except this place seems colder than I remember."

"We're having a cold October," I replied, grateful for the small talk. My fork remained firmly in my hand this time. "Where do you live now?"

"Florida."

"Wet down there, right?"

"Yes, but the rain doesn't turn to hard ice stuff." He grinned. "The weather report said we might get snow tomorrow. I hope not. I want to see my grandfather buried without any problems, so I can get the hell out of here as fast as I can." He gave me an apologetic shrug. "Sorry. That was rude, too, wasn't it?"

"Not everyone has to love Redlin." I didn't think I sounded sincere. He grinned.

"Hey Ginger." Mark Peppers dropped a hand on the back of the booth, stopping as he headed for the register. He glanced at Derrick, a frown on his weathered, craggy face, before he looked back at me. "You heading for work?"

"In a few minutes," I said, trying to wish the older man away.

"You be careful there tonight. You heard about the robberies last night, right?"

"More of them?" I asked, curious now. Derrick frowned, though I couldn't decide why.

"Three of them -- two gas station convenience stores, and one grocery store, all more than a hundred miles from here, but still... they shot two clerks. One of them is dead."

There hadn't been any shootings before this. The salad sat like a rock in my stomach now. I put down the fork before I dropped this one and gave Mark a nod and half smile. "Thank you for letting me know."

"You be careful, young lady."

He headed toward the register. Derrick sipped at his coffee, watching me over the rim of the cup. When I got up to leave, so did he. I paid for my lunch, he paid for his coffee. I went out . . . and within a few yards, I realized he intended to come to the store with me.

"Derrick --"

"I don't have anything to do today. I hate cable television. I already called back to Florida twice. They won't let me into my grandfather's apartment until after the burial. So, if you don't mind, I'll come and hang out with you for a while."

I stopped and turned to him. "You heard what Mark said."

"Yes. And it might not hurt to have someone else keeping an eye open tonight, don't you think?" He gave a little half shrug. "Let me do this. Let me have something to do so I'm not sitting in my room waiting for Junior to show up again."

"I wouldn't mind the company for a while," I admitted. Mark's news had spooked me, though I wouldn't say so aloud. "But you don't have to stay all night."

"Fair enough."

My cousin Scott barely grunted goodbye when I took over. Yeah, it's mostly family running the shop. I keyed the register over to me, took care of a customer Scott had abandoned in his haste to get away, and then grabbed a chair out of the back room so Derrick could sit while we talked.

Derrick turned out to be nice company. We talked about high school, though I steered clear of anything touching on the trouble he'd always been in.

"So, are many of the class still around?" he asked.

"Reba is," I answered with a bit of a snarl.

He winced -- and I remembered, too late, how the two of them had been hot and heavy -- and in a lot of trouble for sneaking off together when they should have been in class.

"She's married now and has three kids," I offered.

"Oh. Good. Good for her, I mean. Glad she found someone."

Good reaction. He might even have blushed. I smiled, until I heard the sound of a distant car --

"Junior's on his way," I warned. "You should get out of sight. Damn. Customer in the wash room already --"

"How the hell can you tell Junior-- oh. For a second I thought you were psychic." He glanced toward the gas pumps, but only a white Subaru sat under the awning. "He might be heading somewhere else --"

"He always stops here on his way home from work to buy his nightly twelve pack."

"Figures. I'll stick with you. I don't want to run and hide every time one of the Westons show up."

"Derrick --"

"If he gets rowdy again, we'll go outside. He might be smart. You have a video camera going and he's paranoid about those things."

"Doesn't stop him from making passes at me."

"I'm surprised Sally married him and has stuck around."

So, he knew a little bit about what went on with the Westons. That surprised me. The truck pulled up in front of the door, the muffler so loud the sound shook the windows when he revved the engine. The dogs paced around in the back, drenched and unhappy. He took them to work at the junk yard over in Crawford most days. Sometimes they came back with torn ears and limps -- another reason we thought he had a dog fighting ring, though the cops hadn't been able to track down the place. I knew they tried, though. No one liked the Westons much.

Today, three of the dogs leapt out of the back and yapped and growled as he swaggered up to the door, covered in grease and mud and God knew what else. He always acted like I should find it sexy.

"Thank God I'm not related to the Westons," Derrick suddenly said and made me grin, despite the situation.

Junior came inside, yelling obscenities at the dogs. The dogs bounced against the door after he came through, leaving long muddy streaks, which annoyed me more.

Junior spotted Derrick. I started to back away, even with the counter between me and him. I'd never want to see anyone turn such anger on me, and I dared a glance at Derrick. He'd kept his place, and the placid look on his face must have annoyed Junior all the more. He took four stomping steps closer, his hands in fists at his side.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Junior growled, sounding far too much like his dogs.

Derrick smiled. "None of your business."

Junior's face went scarlet red beneath the streaks of grease. He took another step forward and I had my hand on the phone, ready to call in help before he got out of hand. But he stopped again, panting as though he had run the last step.

"You want another go?" Junior asked, lifting one fist. "I'm ready for you this time, you sneaky little bastard."

I saw the customer step out of the bathroom, and look around, worried. He saw Junior's fist, and the dogs blocking the way out. He reached for his cell phone and stepped back out of sight.

"Junior get your damned dogs away from the door," I ordered, drawing his attention after all. "I have customers, and if you don't get them out of here, I'm going to call the cops --"

He spun, cursing and went back to the door, grabbing the dogs by the collars and dragging them into the truck bed. I saw my single customer -- a guy from a town down the road \--decide to leave. He scurried out and to the car, forgetting the bread he'd left on the counter. I wouldn't get that sale today.

"I'm sorry, Ginger," Derrick said. "I should have thought about him showing up here. I'll go out --"

"No, don't." I put a hand on his arm. "Stay here. He doesn't like witnesses."

"He's mad, Ginger. I doubt -- damn."

Junior already pulled the door open and came back in. I'd hoped he'd drive away, but somehow I knew better. Unfortunately, Junior never had much sense. He shoved the door open so hard it hit the stand of books and sent some of them flying.

"Damn!" I came around the counter, startling him. Startling me, in fact. "I've had enough of this childishness. Get your beer and get out. If there's any more trouble, I'm calling the cops, Junior. Don't push me."

"Me and Derrick have unfinished business," he growled, suddenly not looking any better than his half wild dogs. "You just keep out of it. Ain't nothing to concern you, missy."

"I am not missy. And as long as you keep bringing your adolescent bully hormones into this store, and what you do here is my business. Get out. Don't even bother with the beer tonight. Go."

I took a step toward him. He stood his ground and I knew I'd gone too far. My heart started beating even harder. I didn't want trouble with Junior -- not now, and not in the future. Unfortunately, Junior never forgot an enemy --

"Let's go outside, Junior." Derrick went past me and to the door. He pushed it open, the cold wet breeze blowing in over us.

"I'll be back to talk to you, missy." Junior gave me a gap-toothed smile before he spun and followed Derrick out.

I started shaking so badly I had trouble walking back to the counter. The reaction didn't come from fear -- mostly -- but rather rage. I grabbed the phone and started to dial for the cops --

Before I could begin, Deputy Miller's car arrived in the parking lot, squealing to a stop just as Junior gave Derrick a shove. I remembered the customer and the cell phone and gave a sigh of relief.

Miller may not have liked Derrick, but everyone knew he truly hated Junior. When Miller put his hand to his gun, Junior backed off very fast. Derrick stood with his hand held out from his side, in a gesture obviously meant to show he didn't intend any trouble. Miller nodded and signaled him back away from the truck. Then Miller went to Junior and they had a short and very loud discussion, and most of the words I heard weren't worth repeating.

Junior finally drove away, gunning the engine as though he dared Miller to follow him. I saw the deputy watch the departing truck with a shake of his head before he turned back to Derrick. Their discussion remained too quiet for me to hear.

I started to calm again as well. I sat back down on the stool and noticed the books on the floor -- I didn't want to go near the door for fear Derrick and Miller would think I came to spy on them. I did see Derrick give a shake of his head, obviously not happy with whatever Miller told him, but then he nodded and so did Miller.

Derrick gestured toward the shop and Miller shook his head. Derrick seemed to disagree, but they must have come to some understanding. A moment later Miller left and Derrick came back in, fighting the door open with his good hand.

"Sorry," he said. "I didn't expect Junior to show up here."

"I should have remembered he would stop here." I shrugged. "No harm done, unless he got you into trouble with Miller."

"Miller and I have come to an understanding \-- mostly because I'm not going to be here long enough to make any difference."

He started to lean down and pick up books. I crossed to the stand.

"I'll hand them up to you and you can put them on the rack."

He nodded and helped, though he did start making disparaging remarks before too long. "Loves Lost Innocence, Maggie's May Marriage -- Who reads this stuff?"

"Truckers," I said and he laughed again.

We got the rest of the books up while talking about what we liked to read. He liked police novels -- odd choice, I thought, but didn't say anything. I read about anything the distributor dropped on the racks here, especially since most nights were long and boring.

This was not one of those nights.

When we were done, Derrick offered a hand to help me up. I didn't think he looked very steady, but I accepted and came up mostly on my own.

He had a nice, warm hand. Soft skin, like he'd never worked hard in his life. I wondered how he bought those nice clothes and put all the cash in his billfold -- but I didn't ask.

We spent some more time talking about school and laughing. Some of the people who came seemed startled to see Derrick, but didn't seem bothered to see him. We even talked about his grandfather, whom he hadn't known. I thought that a shame, because Derrick would have liked him.

And then we heard Junior's truck again -- and we both stopped, but the sound didn't come any closer.

"Must have been heading into town," I said with a sigh of relief.

"So, what kind of excitement do you have around here?" he asked.

"Apple Days is this weekend."

"Oh God, you people don't still do that crap, do you?" He rolled his eyes as he took his seat on the second stool.

"Your grandfather loved Apple Days," I said, daring him to make another dismissive sound.

"I'm not my grandfather." He leaned against the counter looking more like the sullen teenager I remembered from high school. "I don't see why you people bother with crap like this anyway."

"What have you got against people getting together and enjoying each other's company?"

"Why bother? You all know everything about everyone else anyway. People did nothing but gossip in this town."

"We don't gossip. We like to get together for our festivals. It's neighborly." I tried not to frown at how Mayberry those words sounded. Then I didn't care. He lived in Florida, where neighborly probably meant the people next door didn't shoot at your walls after midnight on holidays -- if they really, really liked you.

Derrick still shook his head. "If you ever got away from here --"

"I lived four years in Pittsburgh," I answered, cutting him short. "I know all about big town hospitality and how much better city life is."

"Well, granted, Pittsburgh isn't my favorite town in the world, but maybe if you had a reason to like the place \-- a family --"

"I was married."

"And from the sounds of things, married life didn't appeal to you any more than life in the big city."

"No, it didn't." I glared at him, hating the self-indulgent holier-than-thou look. "Fine, you have the perfect wife and kids --"

He straightened as though I had slapped him. "I didn't tell you anything about Sharon and the kids."

"I saw the picture in your billfold."

"You went through my billfold?" he said, frowning even worse.

"No, I did not!" I answered, annoyed by his entire attitude now. "The billfold fell and opened to the picture."

His mouth clamped shut and his eyes narrowed in anger. I didn't know what had set him off. Sure, he didn't like Apple Days. Fine. He didn't have to take part, after all. The guy wasn't going to stick around, and what we did --

He pulled out his billfold and held it in his hand for a moment. Then he dropped it.

I looked down at the floor and saw the same picture. I felt a new wave of anger. "You didn't believe me."

"No, I didn't." He bent and awkwardly to pick it up, and I didn't move to help him, either. "I'm sorry. I just. . . . He glanced at the picture in his hand for a moment and turned back to me. "I don't talk about my family. Not to anyone."

"Did you pick that habit up from Junior? If you don't talk about her, you can pick up on other --"

"She died a year ago. Cancer."

Words caught in my mouth and my heart dropped. I realized I didn't see anger in his face -- I saw pain. Loss. "I'm sorry," I finally said.

He gave the same little shrug I remembered from High School. I wondered how much emotion he had hidden back then, too.

"I'm sorry I didn't believe you." He seemed to mean it.

"I shouldn't have --"

And my alarm clock went off. We both jumped.

"Well, I guess that marks the end of round one, huh?" he asked with a sudden smile.

I let the anger slip away and gave him a little laugh. "Sometimes I'm reading, and I lose track of time," I explained as I turned it off. "I set the thing for midnight so I can get closed and head home."

"Midnight already? The time sure went quickly."

"Yes, it did." I started my last round of clean up. I even regretted knowing I wouldn't have Derrick there for company again. He helped straighten some of the shelves, limping worse again, I thought.

But we got done quickly and I dropped the money into the safe and started shutting down the lights.

"You always walk to work?"

"Most of the time. I can't see wasting the gas. I don't live far."

"Your parent's house?" he asked.

"No. An apartment on Calia with my cousin."

"Ah. Well."

"I'll see you at the funeral tomorrow --"

"You're going?" he asked, surprised, and maybe a little distrustful again.

"I work at the Senior Center during the mornings. That's how I knew your grandfather so well. Ornery old buzzard with a wicked sense of humor. Yes, I'll be there."

He nodded, apparently relieved. Maybe he hadn't thought about anyone else at the service. We stepped out into the cold night -- the ice hadn't come yet, but the night felt cold enough already. He slipped a little as we stepped away from the building. I walked along with him, pointing out my apartment. Two cars passed on the road, and we reached the lot --

"Son of a bitch." Derrick suddenly moved ahead of me and stopped by a nice car with all the tires slashed, and the mirrors broken off. I thought the paint had been scratched too, but I couldn't see clearly in the near dark.

"Derrick --

He glanced back at me. I saw the way he had his mouth clamped closed against many things he probably wanted to say.

"We should call Miller," I said, trying not to wince at the words.

He took a breath, staring at the car. "Yes, you're right. Damn. It's too late to get any tires tonight -- and the funeral tomorrow --"

"I'll take you to the funeral. Call it payment for keeping me company tonight. The robberies have me spooked."

He had started to say something and stopped again. Then he sighed. "Okay, yes. Thank you -- there, I said it twice in one day."

"Past midnight. You're safe."

He gave a little smile. "Let me walk you the rest of the way home. No, don't argue. I'll feel better knowing you got home safely. I don't trust Junior and he was mad at you tonight, too."

I shivered, but I'm not sure he saw. Then I glanced at my apartment and nodded.

"Yes, that would be nice. I can call Miller from there, if you like --"

"No. I'll call him when I get back here. I'm sure we're going to have a few things to say to each other, and I need to get cooled off first."

"A nice walk in cold night will do it," I said.

"I didn't notice. Nice company."

I blushed, grateful for the dark night. The walk seemed too short. We parted with polite goodbyes at the door to my building, and I have to admit I rather wished his car hadn't been vandalized or that I didn't live with my younger cousin. I would have spent more time with him.

Then I remembered he would be leaving in a couple days and thought maybe this parting at the apartment building might be a good idea after all. I didn't need to get my heartstrings awakened now, especially with someone so obviously trouble -- and not sticking around.

I went up to the apartment and watched him trudging back toward the hotel. A few minutes later I saw Miller show up and gave a sigh of relief. I had feared Junior would arrive instead.

I went to bed, but I didn't sleep much at all.

Chapter 4 -- Interlude 1

Derrick didn't feel much like company, especially at two in the morning when someone knocked, a little too loudly on the door. Not Junior or his father -- he'd have heard their heavy step coming up the stairs. He'd been sitting on the bed, still dressed, still thinking about why he came to this damned town. He crossed the small room with a new feeling of worry.

He slowly opened the door to the woman who stood on the walkway outside. She hadn't dressed for the weather, and if she thought goose bumps were a turn on, she was sadly mistaken. He hadn't ordered a hooker, so he wondered what the hell \--

"Well come on, boy, invite me in," she said with a throaty laugh.

The voice finally gave her away. "Reba?"

"Don't tell me you've forgotten me." Her lower lip puckered out in a pout. Had he liked that childish look when he was seventeen? He couldn't remember. "I heard you were in town, and I thought we'd get reacquainted. Invite me in, will you? I'm freezing out here!"

"You should have worn a coat." He stepped aside, despite his doubts about letting her in, but he didn't want to freeze too.

She went past, making sure her hip brushed against him in all the wrong places. Reba had never been subtle. And now, with her in his room, he didn't know what to do. He stood at the door, half tempted to go for a nice long, cold walk. But remembering Reba, she'd just stick around and wait.

"Come on, Derry. Close the door. Or are you afraid I'll ruin your reputation?" she asked with a wicked smile.

"I think you better leave, Reba." He watched her eyes go wide and her face flush. "I'm not interested in companionship."

"Really. That's not what I heard about you and Ginny," she answered with an unexpected bite in her voice. "Dinner together, keeping guard on her at the store. I never would have expected little miss perfection to be your type. Close the damned door."

"I will. After you leave."

She threw herself on the bed. He left the door open and walked to the chair. She glared at him, and her face flushed again. "You want to spend time with Ginny and not me? What did she ever do for you?"

"This isn't high school, Reba. A lot of things have changed since then." He thought back to their wild high school days and had to fight not to flinch at the memory. He kept his face devoid of emotion so she didn't have to see his dislike of her. He didn't like to be cruel. "I won't be here for long, Reba. I don't want to get involved with anyone here."

"Except Ginny."

"If you think hanging around in a convenience store with someone is 'getting involved' then you need to go find yourself a few friends. You better leave."

"She's divorced, you know. Couldn't hold on to a good man -- a man with a future. He tossed her out."

"Are you married?"

"Yes."

"And you think this makes you better somehow? Makes the situation better for you to be here, throwing yourself at me?" He stood and went back to the door. "Now is the time to leave, Reba. You don't want to hear anything else I have to say."

She stood, her blue eyes blazing. Then she blinked and sauntered by. "You know I don't give up so easy. I'll see you, Derry."

"I'm not going to be here long enough for you to play these games, Reba. Go home to your husband."

She went past him at the door -- almost another brush, but he stepped aside in time. Once she stepped outside he closed and locked the door. He could hear her stomping all the way down the stairs.

Damn, he couldn't wait to get out of this town. He'd been stupid to come back here, especially for a man he never knew. This had been one disaster after another.

Except for the few hours with Ginger. In fact, those few hours with Ginger had been the most pleasant he'd spent with anyone since his wife --

He shut down those thoughts -- all of them as he went back to the bed and sat down. He reached under the pillow and found the hard metal of his revolver. If Junior came back tonight, he would be in for a hell of a surprise. Maybe the gun would have scared Reba off faster. Or maybe not. She'd never been all that bright.

He sat and waited again.

Chapter 5

I woke up early the next morning, got ready for the funeral, and walked to my parents' house to pick up my car. Mom had wanted me to come by and check out the Snow White costume she made for me for Apple Days, too. And no, I hadn't mentioned that part to Derrick. The conversation about Apple Days had been bad enough already.

I opened the front door and stepped in, sniffing with appreciation at the scent of fresh blueberry muffins. I quickly stripped off my jacket, my mouth watering before I even made it to the kitchen where my mother washed dishes -- why she wouldn't use the perfectly good dishwasher I never figured out, but I had learned to stop asking.

"Muffins are on the counter, dear." Mom waved a dish rag towards them. Her right eyebrow twitched upward. "You look very nice this morning."

"Thank you. I'm going to Jackson Hoy's funeral," I reminded her, getting a small plate and a muffin. Butter still sat on the table.

"Oh, is the funeral today? I forgot," she said, letting the water out of the sink. Then she saw two more cups on the counter and quickly started washing them. "Would you like me to go with you?"

"No, that's all right, mom." I smiled at the back of her head. "I'm giving Derrick Weston a ride to the church and the cemetery."

Mom turned around, cup and dish rag in hand, water dripping on to the floor. She stared for a long, long moment.

"I'm only giving him a ride, mom. Someone vandalized his car last night -- sliced all the tires."

"Derrick Weston. You are going to take Derrick Weston to the funeral with you."

"I'm giving him a ride to his grandfather's funeral."

"Oh." She stopped, tilted her head a little, before nodding. She put the dish rag and cup back in the sink and grabbed a towel from the rack by the counter to dry her hands. She sat at the table with me. "I forgot Derrick isn't actually a Weston, is he?"

"No, he's not -- for all the good it did him growing up."

"True. Well, but unlike the rest of the Weston mob, Derrick was always a polite boy."

"Derrick." I said with a shake of my head. "The one they carted off to juvenile hall before graduation."

"Yes, the pretty one. Besides, I think they took the wrong Weston boy," she replied with a huff of indignation.

I couldn't argue with her on that one, especially after the trouble I had with Junior -- and I didn't mention the trouble last night. She worried enough about me working in the Gas and More already.

"They should have dragged Junior off." Her head bobbed several times. "Derrick was polite. He helped me carry groceries home more than once, and even pushed the car out of a snow bank the last winter before he . . . left. And considering what your oldest brother confessed to last summer, I can't hold joy riding and shoplifting against Derrick, now can I?"

I didn't know what Tommy had confessed to, but I knew better than to ask right then. If I hinted later, she'd have forgotten she hadn't already told me the full story, and let some more of it slip out. I have to admit, she had my attention, though. I would love to have something to hold over his head, and to tell his kids when they grew up. God knew he had enough stuff on me.

"Would you like me to make you breakfast?" mom asked, glancing at the stove and refrigerator as though doing a mental inventory.

"No. I'm going to pick Derrick up in about half an hour," I said. She smiled. "I'm not going on a date, mom. We're both going to a funeral. I liked Mr. Hoy."

"You liked his grandson too."

"Back in high school -- a long time ago."

"Well, I liked your father in high school, too, you know. Oh, you better check the dress before you leave!"

"I'm sure the dress is fine, mom." But I stood and headed for her sewing room. She followed behind.

She had hung the dress on the hook over the window, and the morning light shimmered through and around the cloth, casting rainbow colors. I knew she had cobbled the dress together from cloth torn apart from thrift shop sales, but the dress looked like every little girl's dream of being a fairy princess. I felt young again and I saw my mother smile as I brushed my hand over the cloth.

"This is gorgeous."

"You'll be the prettiest Snow White Apple Days ever had," she said, and meant the words in a way only a mother can.

I gave her a quick hug on the way out of the room. "I have to get going and pick up Derrick."

"Why don't you bring him by here for dinner tonight?"

"Mom --" I began with an exasperated sigh.

"I liked Derrick. I don't think it would hurt for him to have a nice, quiet meal after the funeral, do you?"

"I'll ask him. He may say no," I said, wondering how I could broach this subject with him. "He's -- well, he's kind of changed and kind of not. He has two kids, but his wife died of cancer last year."

"Oh, that's so sad for him and his kids. You bring him by, Ginny."

"I'll see what he says," I replied again as I grabbed my coat as I peered outside. "This is going to be a pretty miserable day for a burial. I hope we don't get ice."

"You be careful." She put a hand on my arm as I started to open the door. "We heard about the trouble with Junior last night."

Of course she had heard. I don't know why I thought I could get away with not telling her. News spreads fast in a small town like Redlin -- Derrick was right about that part.

"I'll be fine. You know Junior --"

"Yes, unfortunately, I do. You just be careful. Your uncle is thinking things might not be safe for you to work at the Gas and More, between this and the robberies. I never thought we'd have to worry about this kind of thing here, but \--"

"Don't worry. I'll be careful," I promised and kissed the top of her forehead.

I went outside and nearly slipped on the wet and nearly icy front step. Oh yes, be careful. I sighed and headed to the car. I kept the car parked here so Sonia could have the spot at the apartment. Dad had found the time to put the winter tires for me. Good. I feared this day would be dangerous with the already slick roads.

Chapter 6 -- Interlude 2

"Are you two being good?" Derrick asked, smiling as he spoke. He'd already heard from Ann about what hellions they'd been in the last day -- sweet hellions, and no worse than her own kids, but still. . . .

"We got into trouble," Jasmine admitted, her voice soft. "We didn't mean to."

"Well, don't cause trouble again," Derrick said, hoping the smile didn't come through as he reprimanded them.

"We won't," Jasmine promised and he could almost see her head bobbing up and down, hair flying.

"Kerry?" he asked.

"I'll be good," Kerry promised, his voice firm.

"Good," Derrick answered. "Now go have fun, and let me talk to your Aunt Ann."

Kerry put his phone down with a sharp thump \-- probably not happy with his sister for admitting they'd been bad. Jasmine handed the phone over to Ann, who said something and laughed.

"Derrick?" Ann asked.

"Everything going all right?" he asked, glancing out the hotel window.

"For the thousandth time -- yes, everything is going very well. Jasmine and Kerry are no trouble. I'm not lying, you know."

"I appreciate all you are doing --"

"Derrick, maybe this isn't the time to bring this up, but my mother has asked me to come to Hawaii for the summer. I'd like to take all the kids. She wants to meet Sharon's children again, since she only saw them at the funeral."

"For the whole summer?" Derrick asked, his heart pounding.

"You could come along, too, you know. The vacation would do you good."

"I can't. My work --"

"And that's another reason we think maybe they should go with us." Ann's voice softening a little. "The last incident scared the hell out of us and out of your kids. Your work is dangerous, Derrick. I'm not going to tell you to get out while you still can and while you're still alive. You have to make that decision But you know the danger is why you leave the kids with us."

"I just -- so far away --"

"I know," she said, and he thought she sniffed a little, too. "But you could come and visit for a few weeks at least. The summer will go fast. Think about it, Derrick."

"I will." He suspected he wouldn't think about much else, in fact. "I'll call tonight -- though don't worry if I'm late. The weather might turn nasty and slow us getting back."

"Okay. Take care, Derrick. And be careful."

"Thanks."

She hung up the phone and he sat there on the edge of the bed, holding his cell phone for a moment before he flipped the cell phone shut and dropped it on the mattress. He took several short breaths, trying to calm the panic a sure of panic washing over him at the idea of his children going so far away. Hawaii? Clear across the country and half the ocean besides -- he couldn't let them go so far from him. He couldn't reach them if they had trouble. He couldn't....

He heard someone stop outside his door and glanced at his watch, startled at the time. He hadn't meant to make Ginger walk up the stairs. The soft knock brought him from the bed so quickly he twisted his leg, bit back a curse at the sudden pain, and limped to the door --

Markie Weston stood the other side. She looked old, dowdy, and uncertain.

"Derry," she said and offered a smile.

"Hello, Markie," he said. She winced a little. She had always insisted he call her mom. He wouldn't now. "I'm getting ready to go to the funeral --"

"Wanted to stop by for a moment. Afraid I wouldn't see you before you left." She sighed and looked toward his room again. "I had hoped you'd come by the trailer and visit."

"Junior and I are having problems --"

"Oh, you and Junior always fought." She waved a hand through the air. She frowned and glanced into the room, as though she expected him to invite her in, or expected him to have someone there. "You boys really should get along better, being family and all --"

"Markie, I'm not family. I'm not related to any of you. I don't belong at the trailer and I don't have to get along with Junior or Tom."

"Oh, don't let your dad hear you say that," she warned, shaking her head. "You know how much he hates when you play stubborn, Derry --"

He glanced down, glad to see Ginger pull up and give him a reason to get away. Talking to Markie had always been a waste of time. He thought she probably meant well, but he had always suspected she didn't have a secure connection with reality, and this conversation had reinforced everything he'd ever thought about her ten years ago.

"I have to go now, Markie." He reached back into the hotel room and grabbed his coat but didn't try putting it on. The cast and sling drove him crazy, and he didn't like to think about the next few months. He yanked the door shut and started toward the stairs, a hand on Markie's back to direct her ahead of him.

"I thought we could have a cup of coffee over at the restaurant," she said, waving a hand towards the restaurant and nearly slipping. If she'd been behind him, they probably both would have gone down.

"Maybe later." He kept Markie moving, even though she kept half stopping as though she couldn't walk and talk at the same time.

They finally reached the bottom of the stairs.

"Okay, I'll see you later, Derry." She started across to parking lot. He saw her glance at Ginger in the car with a little frown.

As she stepped away, he remembered the cell phone on the bed. He didn't feel like climbing those damned stairs again, and with a sigh of resignation, he crossed to Ginger's car and threw himself inside.

Chapter 7

I watched Derrick herding Markie Weston down the stairs and I couldn't help but notice how anxious he seemed to get away from her. I'd always thought of Markie as kind of hopeless and helpless, caught in a world where people like Tom and Junior ruled, and I felt sorry for her. I didn't like to see Derrick almost shoving her out of the way --

But then I wondered what life would have been like to live with this woman -- to not be her child, to not fit in, and to have not even her to turn to. Going to Markie with a problem would have been useless.

Derrick pushed his coat over the seat into the back and settled beside me, shaking his head, plainly unsettled.

"Are you all right?"

"She gives me the willies, to be honest. I always felt like she's not connected to here and never has been. Maybe she learned that to cope with living with Tom -- but it really felt weird this time." He stopped and shook his head, then glanced my way. "I need to stop by the flower shop, if we can."

"No problem. We have plenty of time. I was going to suggest some coffee first, but since Markie is heading over there --"

"Yeah, I'd rather avoid her if I can." He leaned back and pulled the seatbelt into place as we headed out of the parking lot. "I don't know why it upset me so much. Probably because I had just talked to my kids and my sister-in-law."

"Problems?" I asked, hearing worry in his voice again.

"No. I have to make a decision." He shook his head again. He obviously didn't want to talk about it.

I considered offering coffee at my apartment or my mother's house, but I thought he seemed worried enough already. No need to add any more pressure to him. Besides, he might have agreed -- and I didn't need the pressure, either.

"Where's your car?" I asked. "It's not rental is it?"

"No, I drove up from Florida. Needed some time to think." He shook his head again. "Police towed it to the place on Wayright Street?"

"Good. That's my dad's place. He'll do good work."

"Oh, good. I don't have to worry then. You never know what kind of work you'll get in small towns."

I pulled up to the Redlin Flower Shop and he got out before I could offer to go in for him, or help, or anything. I had the feeling he was used to taking care of things himself, no matter what his condition. And I had to wonder about his limp and broken arm -- something we had managed not to talk about yet. I wondered why and what he hid.

Derrick didn't take long and came out with two bundles of flowers. He carefully placed them in the backseat. We reached the funeral home about half an hour early and had a chance to talk to Shawn Heflin, the minister. He seemed quite surprised to learn Derrick was Jackson Hoy's grandson. They went off to a private room to talk, and I sat out in the waiting area, greeting a few friends from the Senior Center and helping a couple of them into the pews.

Fragile people, slipping away by inches, and I didn't want to lose them. Mrs. Abrams seemed the strongest of them all, despite being one of the oldest. We talked for a moment before Derrick and the minister came back out. She glanced at Derrick, frowning a little. We went in and I sat down with her and watched Derrick take a seat, alone, in the area for family.

"Who is that young man?"

"Derrick Weston," I said, but then shook my head. "I don't know his real last name. He grew up with the Westons after his mother died."

Her eyes widened a little. "Lily's son?"

"Yes."

"Well. My." She stared at the back of his head with a kind of speculation I didn't understand.

But my attention turned to something far less pleasant. Tom and Junior arrived, both of them in work clothes, and sauntering down between the pews to the front, where they threw themselves down on either side of Derrick. I had started to stand, but Mrs. Abrams caught my arm, obviously afraid I'd do something stupid --

"What are you doing here?" Derrick asked, his voice clear in the otherwise silent room.

"Just came to pay the old fart our last respects," Tom Dare said, his voice too loud. "And to see you Derry, since you couldn't bother to come by and see us."

"Not here. Not now."

"You aren't showing much respect to the dead now, are you?" Tom asked. "But not a surprise, considering how little you show to the living."

Junior snorted in agreement.

"This is not the place --" Derrick began, and I could almost feel the ice in his words.

"You upset your ma this morning by not having coffee with her," Tom said. "That's no way to treat --"

"She's not my mother. You are not my father. And praise God, Junior is not my brother --"

"You be polite boy --" Tom grabbed at his neck like someone would grab a bad kitten. Derrick pulled away \--

And Deputy Miller came stalking down the aisle. I didn't see his face, but from the way he walked, I could tell he was pissed.

"Tom, Junior -- outside. Now."

"You don't have no right, Miller, to harass us like this." Tom stood, scowling at Miller. I'd forgotten he stood taller -- and bigger -- than Junior, and not so much fat, either.

"I've got a complaint from the Funeral Parlor. Outside. Now."

Tom glanced back toward the door, and his eyes narrowed. I saw not only Sheriff Krogman from Redlin, but two State patrolmen, too. Tom scowled, then reached down and caught Junior by the arm.

"Let's go, Junior," he said.

Junior started to protest. Tom jerked him up, confirming my opinion about muscle in his bulk. They stalked out of the chapel, though I could hear voices loud in anger before they got out of the building.

I could guess Derrick's mood from the ramrod straightness of his back. I thought maybe Tom and Junior were being pretty stupid. Derrick didn't look like the kind of person you should annoy.

The service went pretty well afterwards. Shawn Heflin had known Mr. Hoy pretty well, and he told a couple stories, making some of us laugh. I had been watching Derrick, though -- how he gradually relaxed, and I couldn't help but wonder if he accepted more than his grandfather's death just then.

By the time we got outside the ground felt slick with ice. Most of the people headed straight for the Senior Center, where there would be a luncheon.

Derrick stopped by me after they placed the casket into the hearse. He shook his head. "I think the weather is going to change for the worse, Ginger. You don't have to go to the cemetery --"

"I'm going." I looked around. "No limo?"

"I told them no. Makes me feel too strange, you know?"

"Yes, understand. So you need a ride anyway. Come on. They're ready to go."

Derrick nodded. He looked drained and tired as we walked to my car. He limped worse again. He rubbed at his neck after he climbed in, but I didn't say anything.

I fell in behind the hearse as we pulled away. Six others came behind us, a nice honor for Mr. Hoy, even on such a lousy day.

"I can't believe Tom and Junior pulled that stunt," Derrick suddenly said, the words slipping out as though he could no longer keep them inside. "What the hell do they think they can gain?"

"They do it for fun, Derrick. You're an easy target right now because you're an..."

"An outsider." He shrugged and looked at me. "You don't be embarrassed; I know I am. Redlin was hell for me growing up."

"My mom would like you to come to dinner tonight."

I don't know what the hell made me say it right then, and he gave me a really odd look. I shrugged, finally.

"She says you were a nice, polite kid."

"Me?"

"Yeah, you, the --" I stopped myself from saying the pretty one and concentrated on driving. "She said you helped carry groceries for her a couple times, and pushed her out of a snow bank."

"Yeah, I did." He tilted his head. "She didn't treat me like dirt."

"So, you want to come by? Or do you want to go to the Café and risk running into Markie or the rest of the Westons?"

"We'll see. Maybe," he said, which was a better answer than I expected.

Loma, the county seat, is about ten miles away through twisty, narrow roads passing over the hills at the edge of the river plain. Floods took out the closer cemetery about thirty years ago. I didn't like to make the drive in bad weather, though so far we only had a little bit of ice in patches. We went slowly up through the cut banks and pas brown, leafless trees.

"I think I saw a couple flakes of snow," Derrick said suddenly. I hadn't realized we'd been quiet for so long. I'm used to driving by myself.

"This is going to be bad tonight." I slowed a little, fearing ice. "Cars go off the road here all the time, and there's a damned steep drop down the ravine to the creek. We'll be fine. We're almost there."

"Good. You know, I feel stupid for coming back here. I read the Loma newspaper online, just out of perversity. When I saw my grandfather had died, I thought I might be able to find something about my mother and my father.. I knew there would be trouble with the Westons. But I wanted to... I don't know. Maybe have a bit of closure with this part of my life. Get it done and --" He stopped and shook his head.

"And buried," I said.

"Yeah, but it sounds crass under the circumstances, especially since I only barely knew my grandfather. Tom Weston didn't like him and then Hoy moved away. When did he come back?"

"About seven years ago. He traveled all over the US, Canada and Mexico. I think he wanted somewhere he could sit and relax for awhile."

"Was he happy here?"

"Yes, I think so." I glanced at Derrick and almost smiled. "This isn't such a bad place, Apple Days and all."

He gave a little laugh. We came up over another hill and Loma sat in a crevice of a valley, the city hall and courthouse sticking up between already bare trees. Two church spires stood at opposite ends of town. The graveyard sat another three miles past town, nestled among some ash and oak trees in the distance. The place dates back to the first settlements in the area, with some of the stones worn down by the weather and now unreadable. An old church that used to sit on the edge had succumbed to the weather about five years before, and the locals finally had torn it down for safety reasons.

We arrived only a few minutes later -- the six cars and hearse travelling down the slick gravel road and into the otherwise empty graveyard. We passed a grave with a few dying flowers.

The ceremony at the gravesite went better without the Weston's around, though I could feel a little ice in the rain drops and felt grateful-- and guilty -- when the people went back to their cars.

Derrick had brought two bundles of flowers to the graveside with him. He laid one on the casket and stood there for a moment, silent and still while everyone else hurried away. I wonder what he said to Mr. Hoy.

By the time he stepped away the other cars had already started to head out. I waved them on when a couple stopped and waited for Derrick.

He stood by and watched as workers lowered the casket into the ground and quickly cover it with dirt. Had he done the same thing at his wife's burial? The way he stood seemed like he kept a vigil; something he done before.

The men piled their shovels into the truck nearby and Derrick stopped and shook their hands. How odd. I'd never considered how un-thanked those people probably went.

Then he suddenly turned around with a start and found me leaning against a big old oak tree by my grandparent's graves. He came limping across the ground so fast he nearly slipped on the accumulating ice. He still had a bundle of flowers in one hand.

"Oh damn, I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking --" he began.

"No problem, Derrick. Everything's fine. What are the flowers for?"

"I hoped -- I wanted to find my mother's grave. I haven't been here since they buried her, though. I don't remember where she might be --"

"You take that half and I'll take this half," I said.

"You don't have to help. You should at least go back to the car and stay warm."

I probably should have listened to him.

"Go on. I can help."

He gave a grateful nod and moved slowly off to his side of the cemetery. I cast one glance at the car settled up by the trees and went to work.

Derrick found the grave about twenty minutes later. He called me over before he knelt down, bushing dirt and dead leaves away, and pulling a few weeds before he carefully laid the flowers in place.

I came closer, but gave him a little privacy still. I couldn't imagine how he had felt as a boy, never allowed to come back again. I wondered about his father --

But I didn't ask. Not now.

Derrick didn't take very long. I almost told him not to hurry, but he seemed ready to go, wincing as he stood. He held his hand out. A few flakes of snow landed on his palm.

"Yeah, I know. We better head back. The roads in the hills get awfully icy in a storm like this."

"You should have said something, Ginger."

"We have time. There's no hurry."

"I don't remember you being this laid-back in school." He hurried toward the car as fast as his limp would allow, probably to get out of the cold. I'm sure he thought fondly of Florida right now.

"I was a teen-ager in high school," I reminded him. "No one was this laid-back, including you."

"Especially me." He laughed at my vigorous nod. "I know, I was always in trouble."

"Why did you make so much trouble for yourself?"

"The real, honest to God truth?" he asked as we reached the car. Snow had started to fall harder, some flakes sticking to his already damp hair. "I made trouble to get away from the Westons for a while."

"Hell, Derrick. I didn't think --"

"I didn't belong there and they let me know it." He grinned unexpectedly. "But life changes -- at least if you let things change. I don't think Tom, Junior and Markie will ever realize they're stuck because they want to be stuck."

He gave me a curious glance, as though he wondered if I wanted to be stuck here, too. I didn't say anything as I unlocked the car and we got in. I felt better getting out of the weather.

Key in ignition, turn...

The car grumbled and died, grumbled and died, grumbled....

Derrick sighed and shook his head. "I'll take a look."

I got out, helping him with the hood. The engine appeared fine. I'm the daughter of a mechanic, and I at least know the basics. Derrick did too, and fiddled with a few things before I got in and tried once more.

Grumble, die; grumble, die.

We kept trying until the battery went nearly dead. By then we had at least an eighth of an inch of snow on the ground and the wind had picked up a bit.

"I don't suppose you have a cell phone?" he asked.

"Sorry, no." I got back out of the car. "I can't see the use in one out here -- though this may change my mind. You?"

"I have a lovely one. I left the thing sitting on the bed back in the hotel. I didn't want Markie in, and I forgot to grab it on the way out." He watched the woods, frowning, turned toward the road -- and back to the woods again. "Something moved in there."

"Deer," I said with a grin. "You've been gone too long."

"I don't think --" But then he stopped and grinned. "Yeah, you're right. Well, shall we start walking?"

"I suppose so." I shoved the door closed and tried not to scowl. "At least we don't have far to walk back to Loma. Are you going to be alright?"

"Yeah. I'm sorry, Ginger."

"The car would have broken down somewhere. I'm glad I have company."

We started walking down the dirt road. I saw him glance back at his grandfather's grave and then at his mother's. He probably would never be back here. Mr. Hoy had been his last tie to the area, after all.

Someone drove by on the highway just as we reached the road. I had hoped they'd stop and offer us a ride to town because Derrick's limp had already gotten worse, and the road felt icy. But car sped on, and I didn't see any other cars nearby.

So we walked, talked about school, talked about Redlin, talked about my parents and my cousins... and we quite plainly did not talk about him, his life away from here, and his children. I wanted to be annoyed that he asked so much about me and gave nothing back about himself, but I thought he didn't want to link them to this place and to bring even the thought of his children into an area he hated so much.

I felt badly for him for new reasons, but I didn't pry.

The snow began to fall harder, obscuring more than a few feet around us. I didn't feel too cold, at least, and the wind hadn't picked up. We both moved to the far edge of the road. I hoped cars came by soon, though this wasn't a well-traveled road at the best of times since the Interstate went through about five miles south of us.

We'd walked about a mile before another car finally came up over the hill behind us, honked and slowed. I didn't recognize the car, but I sighed with relief as the driver pulled over and someone inside leaned across to pop open the side door. I hurried and --

And I nearly knocked Derrick over when I pulled away from the sight of Junior.

"What the hell are you two doing out here?" Junior demanded. He had a knit cap on, rolled up over his ears and his hair stood out on all sides. A long scarf hung around his neck and the coat he wore looked two sizes too big, even on him.

"I had car problems," I answered, frantically wishing someone else would come along.

"Just get the hell in and I'll take you back to Redlin."

"I'd rather walk," Derrick answered and I gave a frantic nod of agreement.

"Look -- I'm sorry about pa and me this morning. Miller was all over our asses about it, too. But you upset ma, the way you treated her. So here's the deal. I give you a ride home, you have coffee with ma before you leave town. Then I don't have to put up with more shit about you. Deal?"

I glanced at Derrick, trying to keep my face neutral because I didn't want to ride with Junior, but the weather looked increasingly bad.

"Deal." Derrick didn't sound happy. I glanced in the back seat and found boxes and sacks shoved in. Derrick nodded for me to get in the front.

I didn't want to sit next to Junior, but probably better me than Derrick. I slid in, glad Derrick didn't bulk as much as Junior, so I kept closer to him. Junior put the car in gear, cursed when we slipped on the ice, and started driving -- a bit too fast, I thought, and didn't want to consider going over the hills with him.

"Where did you get the car?" I asked.

"Working on it at the junk yard." He hardly slowed at all at the edge of Loma, and I wished for police to pull him over right then. I think Derrick would have agreed.

Junior slowed and swung into a lot, pulling up to the door at the little store at the edge of town.

"Got to grab some cigs." He turned off the car and took the keys out. "Only take a minute."

He pulled his cap down over his ears, shrugged his jacket back up on his shoulders and pulled the scarf around his face as though he feared freezing while walking the four feet from the car to the shop. He slammed the door behind him, leaving us alone.

"Damn. I'm sorry, Ginger. This is --"

"A quick way home," I said. "Don't worry."

He gave a reluctant nod and glanced at the street as a police car went by. Police still made him nervous, I supposed. Police, Redlin, Junior, Tom Weston, Markie -- I could suddenly understand why he didn't want to spend time here.

Junior came back out of the store at a bit of a run, slid on the ice and nearly fell. He grabbed the door, and threw himself in, shoving a sack into his jacket. He laughed as he turned the car on, hit the gas, and spun in the parking lot before hitting the highway and heading straight up the first hill.

"Junior --" Derrick began.

"Oh, get a grip. Lighten up. Have some fun!" And he hit the gas and went faster.

I braced my hands on the front of the seat and gave Derrick a worried glance. I hoped he took my worry to heart and didn't say anything else to annoy Junior. We reached the top of the first hill and skidded through the turn, and then around another curve and up the next higher hill --

I heard a siren and looked back, barely able to see police car's lights far back in the snow and probably still on the first hill.

"Son of a bitch!" Junior shoved his foot down on the gas pedal.

The car slipped dangerously on the ice, the back end hitting the railing and nearly knocking the car out of Junior's control. I gasped, hardly able to think as fear and rage fought for control. Once we got this car stopped, I intended to beat the hell out of him myself.

"Don't be an idiot!" Derrick yelled and tried to reach past me with his good arm to grab Junior. "Stop the damn car and take the ticket --"

Junior let go of the wheel with his right hand, reached into his pocket and pulled out a gun, aiming toward Derrick -- and me. My breath stopped. Just stopped, and I couldn't be certain if I was more afraid of the gun, or the fact he took a hand from the steering wheel and his eyes from the road.

Or maybe his maniacal grin scared me the most.

"You robbed the store," Derrick said, his voice calm.

"Damn right I did. I planned to anyway -- you should have asked what I was doing over here in Loma, you know. And you should have thought about why Missy's car broke down. I thought having you two along -- would just make the robbery better. You try anything Derrick, and I'll shoot her. Then I'll shoot you."

Derrick's hand found my arm and squeezed gently. "Fine, Junior. But if you crash you're not going to enjoy this for long."

The car swerved on the ice. The snow came harder now, like a falling blanket of white made seeing the road even more difficult. Junior grunted and grabbed the wheel, gun still in hand. We took the next curve a little slower, but I soon heard the police car and knew Junior would speed up again.

I wanted to be brave and smart and to start talking to cover the sound of the police. My mouth wouldn't work. I knew Junior would shoot me. In fact, I had no doubt he intended to shoot us both anyway. Derrick knew and kept silent, but I saw him staring ahead, as though he expected more trouble, and glancing out the side window at every curve --

We lost control, hit the guardrail and bounced back, the car sliding across the road and hitting the hillside. Derrick grabbed hold of me and Junior fought the car as we bounced back, clear across the road and toward the embankment and the drop into a ravine.

We hadn't quite come to a stop when Derrick threw the car door open and pulled me out with him, rolling toward the edge of the road as the car slid past. I could hear Junior shriek in rage as the car stopped. The door opened --

Derrick pulled me up to my feet and shoved me over the side of the road. I tumbled down the snow and ice-covered embankment, trying to grab at the weeds and bouncing against the rocks --

I heard the gun fire, and saw Derrick turn and leap over the side of the embankment. The gun fired again. Then I heard the police car coming closer, and tried to frantically climb back up and get the attention of the police.

"I'll be back for you, you bastards! I'll be back!"

The car door slammed shut, the engine roared, and the car took off again, the sound echoing through the hills.

I hadn't reach the road when the police car roared by, lights flashing red, siren wailing.

I wailed as well, but the sound came from frustration. I stopped working so hard to get back to the road, and headed for Derrick.

He hadn't moved from where he had fallen.
Chapter 8

I didn't think I could be more afraid than I had been when Junior pointed the gun at me, but the feel tripled as I moved over toward Derrick, slipping on the ice and snow and losing ground more than gaining any. I feared he was dead. I feared \--

As I came closer he turned his head, blinking a little, as though confused --

"Damn," he whispered softly. He moved his arm and stopped.

"D-Derrick." My teeth chattering, though not with cold -- not yet.

"I'm all right," he said, though without much conviction. He moved again, and this time managed to sit up, though I put a hand on his shoulder --

And felt something warm and wet. I lifted my fingers --

"Derrick --"

"Yeah, the bastard shot me." He moved again and stopped. "I can't tell exactly where."

"The shoulder -- the right shoulder."

"Well, that's better than the left." He turned his head to see. "I already have the arm in a sling. I think the bullet might have grazed across the top from the looks of the coat. Good. We need -- we have to get moving. He'll come back. Can you get up to the road? Can you get to help?"

"I -- I don't know." I looked upward, trying not to panic. "I tried, but I kept slipping back down. It's awfully steep."

"Of course I had to choose the worst spot.".

"You made the right choice. He would have killed us both, either in a crash or later. He wouldn't let us tell anyone else he'd been robbing the stores."

Derrick gave a nod, then moved as though he intended to stand -- and changed his mind. Snow already covered his hair and he brushed some from his face, shaking his head in disgust, apparently at everything. I didn't blame him.

"Get up to the road and should head back to town as fast as you can --"

"I can't leave you here, Derrick. He could come back at any time. And we've gone at least four or five miles from town. I couldn't get to Loma fast enough, especially in this weather."

"We can't sit here," he said.

"No, not here. Down. We need to go down the ravine and hike out along the creek.".

"You'd have a chance of catching a car up on the road.".

"Not much of one," I admitted. "There hasn't been another one by yet, and with this weather only idiots will be coming up here in the hills. Chances are they wouldn't see me in this storm anyway. I'd as likely get hit, the way my luck is running today."

"My fault you're here."

"Maybe. I would have gone to the burial anyway, you know. And with Junior -- maybe you're just an added bonus. God knows I've annoyed him enough."

"Miller told me he suspected Junior of the robberies," Derrick admitted, finally getting at least to his knees, though his face went almost gray. He stayed there for a moment. "Asked me to help him out on the case."

"Asked you?" I said, surprised as I got to my feet, my right leg braced against a boulder to keep from sliding down the hillside.

"He was desperate."

"I bet. Can you get turned around? I think we can mostly slide down --"

"I still think you ought to get out of here."

"I'm going to. Down this way."

"You're damned stubborn."

"Especially when I'm right."

He said nothing, probably because he held his breath as he tried to turn. I helped him as best I could until I lost my balance and slide down a few feet, scraping my hands on the hard rocks. I started back up --

"Stay there. I'm coming down."

He slid carefully forward, a few inches at a time, and stopped beside me, his face damp with sweat, and the snow melting against his hair. I helped him the rest of the way down the side of the ravine.

The water in the creek was only knee deep, but I didn't intend to walk through the stream, which hadn't frozen over yet, of course. The cold water lapped over our feet as we treaded along the edge where the ravine narrowed. Neither of us spoke much at first. I think we both expected Junior to show up at any moment. I even picked up a big rock and shoved it in my pocket to be ready for him. I still intended to beat the hell out of him if I got the chance.

Derrick would have had trouble traversing the slick rocks and icy ground even before Junior shot him and he tumbled over the side of the ravine. I didn't know how he stayed to his feet, but we managed to go maybe half a mile along the creek bed before the ground opened up and we found ourselves in a snow covered field sprinkled with trees. If I hadn't been cold and scared witless, I would have thought the place beautiful. Even now the snow-covered scene almost drew me out of my rage and fear.

"We should rest for a minute." Derrick leaned back against a tree.

I started to tell him no, but I saw his pale and sweating face, and changed my mind. Besides, I felt almost breathless as well, and a moment to stop and get our bearings around didn't seem so bad. I had never been hiking along this creek, but I knew the general area, at least.

"As long as we keep heading east we'll come out of the hills." I couldn't see a sign of the road, though I thought I heard a car somewhere not too far away. I didn't expect the sound to set me shivering again, but I thought about Junior coming after us, and of never being found down here....

I would not cry. I turned away from Derrick in case those tears I felt in my eyes got out of my control. We were going to get out of here. I damned well intended us to survive. And then Junior was going to be in for a hell of a surprise.

When Derrick pushed away from the tree he almost went down. I started to reach for him, but he pulled away and moved on his own. And he called me stubborn? I walked along side of him, watching for a way up the hillside, but this area appeared worse than where we had tumbled down.

"Why aren't you angry?" Derrick suddenly asked, startling me.

"I am angry," I protested.

"Well you sure as hell don't show it."

"I don't see any reason to go into a rage." I forced myself to shrug and kept walking, trying to find the easiest path as the ravine narrowed again.

"So you go merrily along the way, little Red Riding Hood --"

"Snow White, actually. My mother even made the costume for me for this year's Apple Days."

"Aren't you all sweetness and light." I heard a definite snarl in his voice now. "What a bunch of crap."

"Well, it's apparent you aren't Prince Charming, if that helps," I said, fighting back the urge to snap at him. He wasn't having a good day, after all.

But then neither was I.

"So, your parents teach you to be such a good little lamb?" he asked and the tone began to grate on my nerves.

"My parents taught me to be polite. Too bad yours --"

And I stopped, seeing the flicker of anger in his face at those words. Well, of course he never learned to be polite from the Westons.

"Anger doesn't help," I said, repeating my mantra for the last few years. I realized I had started saying those words to myself when I began to have problems with my ex-husband, which annoyed me even more. "I suppose you never learned --"

"In the work I do --"

"I don't want to know anything about your kind of work.".

"No wonder you came running back here." He glanced my way, smirking. "Nothing to challenge your perfect little world."

"It looks pretty challenged right now." I glared back at him.

"Oh yes. You have to walk in the snow for a while. My. How horrible. I can't believe I am stuck with someone so totally useless. You can't even go and get help."

I felt a wave of cold anger start in the pit of my stomach. I hadn't felt this way since I slapped my husband the day he said he wanted a divorce. Derrick had hit the wrong button. I wasn't going to stand here and put up with this kind of abuse from someone else.

"Well, good luck. I'll send someone back for you."

"Yeah, right. Whatever."

I moved off ahead of him and didn't even look back. Son of a bitch. What a bastard. I hadn't been this angry in years, and the rage pushed me down the creek side, over the boulders he wouldn't be able to climb without help. I walked through water that went over my shoes and chilled my skin, but not my anger.

Chapter 9 -- Interlude 3

Derrick listened as Ginger moved off, her head high and her steps sounding like a march. He had wondered how much pushing would make her angry. It had not been pleasant.

But as soon as he knew she wouldn't look back and see him, he found a tree, leaned back -- and slid down.

He knew, if Junior outraced the cop, he would return soon, and Derrick knew he would never be able to outrace him. He wouldn't drag Ginger down with him, though. He'd already learned enough about her to know she wouldn't have willingly left him, especially if she knew he only wanted her to go because he didn't want to put her in danger, too.

The little glade fell quiet with her gone. Too quiet, cold -- and God, he ached. His broken arm had taken a bad twist. He feared getting the bone reset. The already sprained knee didn't feel much better, but at least he hadn't broken that bone. The tear in his shoulder burnt like fire even in this damned cold.

Why the hell had he ever come back here?

He needed closure on this part of his life, but he hadn't expected permanent closure. He didn't have his gun. He couldn't stand again. He wasn't going to be much of a test of Junior's skills when he showed up.

He felt badly for how Ginger would feel, but better she survived than to go down with him.

He closed his eyes, listened to the whisper of falling snow, and waited.

Chapter 10

Bastard, stupid men. Always think they know how to run the world. Don't think women are good for anything, or they don't have any feelings, or. . . .

I'd been crying, which annoyed the hell out of me. If I wasn't going to cry over what Junior did, I shouldn't be crying over what Derrick had said. I slipped on a boulder because I couldn't see clearly, scraped my hand again. I kicked the stone out of frustration. Not a good reaction and I cursed Derrick again. And then I sat and cried for a while.

How dare he treat me this way? How dare he send me running --

Something clicked.

Hell. He had done annoyed me on purpose. He had pushed through my already jangled nerves and got me to move on because he didn't want to slow me down. He pushed to get me out of danger. We both knew Junior would come back for us if he got free of the police. And if he didn't, wouldn't tell the police where to find us, either. Had anyone from Loma seen us in the car? If not, they might not even realize he'd had someone with him.

I tried to decide what to do. I had made a good distance since I left Derrick. But the day had turned colder and very dark, the snow falling harder -- and I feared if I went on, I would never see Derrick alive again.

So I turned around and headed back. Maybe not smart, but I didn't want to leave Derrick there to die, alone in the snow, facing Junior or not. I wouldn't leave him.

Oddly, I had less trouble going back. I reached the glade about an hour after I had left him, the shadows falling -- and for a moment I couldn't even find Derrick. Then I saw him only a few feet from where I had left him, sitting against a tree, snow covering far too much of his body. Fool. He'd freeze to death before Junior could get to him.

He looked up only when I got within a yard of him, his face showing startled surprise, worry -- and I thought a hint of pleasure and relief though he tried to hide the reaction again.

"What the hell are you doing back?" he demanded, though his voice could hardly hold the charade of anger.

"I came back for you. Are you done resting?" I asked.

"Just go --"

"Don't you think you owe it to your children not to give up so easily?"

The color came back to his face, his eyes blinking. I thought he might be trying to hold back tears. But I had said the right words this time. He lifted his good arm toward me and I helped him back to his feet. He had trouble staying there, but I put an arm around his waist and he put an arm over my shoulder. He felt far too cold.

We started moving again.

"The woods are lovely, dark and deep," Derrick suddenly quoted, startling me.

"But I have promises to keep, and miles to go before I sleep." I glanced at him. "Do you like Frost?"

"Sometimes. I think I have a new appreciation for the poem." He gave a little laugh. His hand unexpectedly squeezed my shoulder. "I'm sorry for what I said before. I truly did want you to go on without me."

"I know. But I'm damned stubborn, you know."

"I've guessed that part." He laughed a little.

The night fell before we even reached the place where I had turned around. We kept going, talking a little bit about life in general, the world outside Redlin, and what kind of teas and coffees we liked. We avoided the talk of food, for the most part, since both of us were pretty hungry by then. But nice hot coffee or tea....

"Hot Chocolate," I said, with a sigh.

"Oh yes," he agreed with a little nod and winched. I imagined the wound in his shoulder probably made any movement painful. "With marshmallows."

"Yes." I sighed with longing. Then I started moving a little faster again. "And we'll have some when we get out of this damned snow."

He didn't argue, but I knew we'd stop soon. We both needed rest, and I feared I would slip and fall soon and take Derrick down with me -- and not be able to get him back up. Better for us both to rest before we got worse. Snow had piled up to about four inches in some places, and though the wind wasn't very strong, but snow started to drift. I couldn't clearly see what lay beneath the covering, and I decided we'd stop at the next area where we could get away from the water.

A few minutes later, I saw a likely spot with some trees growing close together and shelter from some of the snow beneath their limbs and I started towards the trees.

"What?" His head came up, and he seemed less coherent than I had expected.

"Time to rest, Derrick."

"Junior --"

"Junior isn't here. He probably won't even come out until morning, you know. I can't see him putting himself out in this weather, even to get us. We can rest for a little while."

"I'm sorry I screwed up so badly."

"You haven't. Here. Sit down."

I helped him down, trying to ignore the little hiss of pain as he settled with his back against the tree. I tried to find anything else to help us. We didn't feel terribly cold yet, and when I settled down by the tree the little breeze didn't brush at my face. Good -- or at least as good as it was going to get.

"Come closer. Pull my trench coat up around us both," he said. "Don't worry about my arm. I'm so cold I don't feel anything now."

I knew he lied, but shared warmth might help us through this night. I carefully snuggled in closer to him, pulling his coat around my shoulder and reaching around his chest so my jacket draped across his chest. I rested my head on the sling and cast.

"Better." Derrick even relaxed. "I've spent worse nights. Once, out on a job -- well, never mind. I don't want to talk about worse times."

"Good idea," I mumbled into his arm. I hadn't realized how tired I felt until now. I'd walked much farther on spring hikes through the woods, but this day had been filled with too many draining emotions.

"We'll get by for a better day," he said softly.

I lifted my head, startled by the words. "Your mother used to say that. I could almost hear her in your voice."

"Did she? I didn't know where I'd picked the saying up." He shook his head a little. "I don't remember her much at all. The Westons drove her out of me, I think. For a long time I felt like she'd betrayed me, leaving me with them. I don't know why she married Tom Weston."

"Tom is a big, strong man," I said. "He's not like Junior. Junior is stupid and vengeful. Tom is..."

"Smarter." Derrick nodded and frowned again. "Yeah, which makes him more dangerous in some ways. I suddenly wonder about Junior's little robbery ring. I wonder if there isn't more -- like someone smart enough to train him how to pull off the robberies."

"Now there's an interesting thought." I didn't mind talking, even about Junior. I think the silence would have been worse. "I'm trying to think if Tom has shown . . . oh."

"Oh?" Derrick asked.

"Tom bought a couple good hunting rifles last month. Custom made stuff, and expensive. Mr. Shoplin made a good amount of money. No one wondered where Tom got the cash. I mean he and Junior both work at the junk yard and they don't have a lot of expenses, living out in the trailer. But I remember even my dad saying something about him buying stuff for his cars lately, which seemed odd with the junk yard work. You think Tom's involved?"

"I wouldn't be surprised, but I could be wrong. I think it would be damned hard for Junior to keep something from his father. And I suspect, when he finds out Junior took the two of us out on the robbery, he's going to be mighty pissed at his son."

"Yeah," I said, feeling a little bit of pleasure. "So maybe Markie and Sally know, too."

"Damn. I hate to think what this is going to do to his kids."

"If it's true, they're going to get out of a hellish situation."

He shivered. Not the cold, and I still didn't ask about life with the Westons.

I sighed a little. "I hope everything goes alright for the Apple Days celebration. I don't want to miss it."

He gave a little woof of sound -- half amazement with just a little bit of annoyance. "With everything else going on, you're worried about Apple Days?"

"That's all I'm willing to admit being worried about," I said, lifting my head. "Everything else is too serious, too dire. I can be upset about missing Apple Days. What's it really going to matter?"

He tilted his head a little. I wished we had more light. I could barely see him in the dark, though I could tell he smiled, which I hadn't expected.

"I like your attitude."

"Well, you could have fooled me," I replied, and he laughed this time.

"I'm worried, too," he finally admitted. "Because I said I'd call my kids tonight, and they're going to be upset when I don't, and worry about what happened to me this time."

"This time," I echoed softly and nodded. "It's not stupid to worry about your kids like thinking about Apple Days. Your kids are important to you."

"Yes, they are. Since . . . since my wife died, they've been mostly living with my sister-in-law, her husband, and their three kids. They have a real family there. I'm not around as much as I should be." He sighed and leaned his head back on the tree. "They want to take the kids to Hawaii this summer to stay with their grandmother. That's a damned long ways to go without me."

"True," I agreed.

"I only live a block away from them, but in my own place. They wanted me to move in too, but I couldn't. If I did, I would have become too dependent on them. It would have been too easy."

"I know. I understand. When I came back to Redlin my parents begged me to move in. But I knew if I did I would never move out -- or move on -- again. I know it seems like I'm wasting my time coming back here --"

"No," he said. "No, that was my own bias interfering with my good sense. Or what passes for good sense." He moved a little, his breath catching in a slight whisper of pain. "We're going to get through this. Junior sure as hell better not be anywhere I can find him before Miller does."

"I don't think you're in any shape to take on Junior right now. So he had better watch out for me, instead."

Derrick laughed, a remarkably nice sound, even while we both shivered there in the cold. I felt better and I think he did, too.

"I never knew you had so much fire, Ginger. You should let that part out to play more often. I'm sorry about some of the things I said to you, but --"

"But you were right about some stuff," I admitted, burrowing my head a little more into the crook between his arm and his coat. "I did come back here to hide. I like Redlin. I enjoy the people, but I spend my days at the Senior Center and my nights at the Gas and More. I've taken to playing mother to my roommate-cousin, and telling myself I'm making certain she doesn't make the same stupid mistakes I did --"

"Did you make a stupid mistake? I get the feeling it was your ex-husband who made the mistake."

My breath caught at those words. No one else had come out and said them aloud, and I couldn't even begin to tell Derrick what they meant to me -- not without breaking out in tears. Maybe he knew. He didn't say anything more, waiting for me as I took several, slow breaths.

"I was a good wife." I gave an unexpectedly bitter laugh at those words. "What a stupid thing to say, but it was true. I believed in the future we would have after he got through law school. I worked hard, saved, cut corners, took a useless job and dropped out of school. And then he met a fellow student and they had so much in common! They could discuss work, and school, and all the things we didn't have any more. So we divorced."

"His loss."

"Are you feverish or something?"

He started laughing so hard it obviously hurt. In the end he took several deep breaths.

"Sorry," I apologized, though I suspected he hadn't minded the laugh.

"I'm sorry I've been such an ogre the last few days. I didn't like being in Redlin."

"For obviously good reasons," I said, and brushed snow from my legs.

"I don't think we dare stay here for too long, you know. We'll get frostbite at the very least."

"I know. But we were both starting the falter and I figured we better choose our spot rather than fall flat somewhere bad. Maybe you should try to sleep for a while, Derrick."

"And you'll keep watch will you?" he asked, with a little laugh.

"Yes, I will. Just like in the movies."

I was asking him to trust me.

And he did. He closed his eyes, leaned his head back -- and slept. I stayed awake. I would not fail him. Junior would never get close enough without waking both of us, but I stayed awake, and an hour later I woke him and we got back to our feet and moved on. At least the snow had stopped falling.

Chapter 11 -- Interlude 4

Derrick kept his head down and watched where he put his feet, moving slowly from one step to the next. He wanted to go faster, and get the hell out of his mess.

But another part of him knew he did well to move at all. If Ginger hadn't been here, he never would have gone this far.

He felt horrible for having dragged her into his mess with the Westons. Rage surged again as he thought about how Junior had been after him, and Ginger --

He missed his next step, caught his foot on a fallen limb he should have seen, flailed, and landed on his butt, pulling Ginger down with him into the cold, wet muck. Pain knifed its way through his shoulder, arm, back and leg and he bit his tongue to keep from cursing.

"Well," Ginger said. "Maybe we should take a break."

And she made him laugh again. He hadn't expected to laugh, and it hurt -- but the rage disappeared.

"You okay, Derrick?" she asked, leaning over and staring into his face.

The last person who had looked at him that way, and who had asked him the same question, had been his wife the night after they got her diagnosis. Nestled there in bed, and he could count the days he would have left with her --

Not again.

"I'm fine." He started to sit up. "Well, maybe fine isn't exactly the term I'd use."

She smiled and his heart thumped -- and he battered his emotions back into place with a reminder of sitting at Sharon's bedside and holding her hand while she died.

And then he realized how unfair his thoughts were to both of these women. Sharon would never have wanted him to treat another this way for her memory. God knew they had discussed it often enough, even when he didn't want to. She had been oddly obsessed with the idea of him going on with life, finding love again --

"Derrick?" Ginger asked softly.

He blinked Ginger back into focus. She looked worried.

"Sorry. Not all here, I guess. Let's get back up. I'm cold and wet."

"Yeah," she agreed with a sigh. But she helped him back to his feet and held on to him when he would have gone down again.

They kept walking. Derrick decided it was time to stop dragging the ghost of his dead wife along on this miserable little hike. One of them should have some rest, after all.

Chapter 12

Sometime after eight in the morning, I started daydreaming about my mother's homemade muffins. I worried about her and dad and what they were thinking by now --

I heard the baying of dogs.

Derrick stopped. I had seen a little line of blood at his shoulder, a spot growing the last hour after he took a fall and obviously tore the wound open again. He couldn't walk without my help, and his leg gave way every few steps. I had been about to suggest I leave him here and go on now because we couldn't be far from the edge of the hills by Loma.

The dogs howled again. We both glaniced back over our shoulders.

"Maybe they're out trying to find us," Derrick suggested.

"Someone is," I agreed. His skin looked pale and damp and his eyes shadowed. I hated the idea of giving him more bad news. "The Westons have been breeding dogs for a few years. We think they're involved in a dog fight ring."

"Why am I not even in the least bit surprised?" he said. "We'll never outrun the dogs."

"We don't have far to go," I said, but he shook his head. "Really -- we don't have far. We've made good distance since the sun came up."

"I suppose we don't have much choice but go on.".

I wished I could believe someone other than the Westons would by trying to find us, but I figured sitting and hoping bordered on suicidal. And maybe part of me wanted to get out on my own, and prove myself. If I had been here alone I would have kept walking. But Derrick -- Derrick needed medical help.

The snow started to fall again, but I hardly cared. Our clothing clinked with bits of ice, and we left a trail even Junior would be able to follow, dogs or not. I didn't think they had tracking dogs -- just the poor dogs we all suspected they put into illegal fight rings. These dogs were killers. I didn't say anything to Derrick, though.

We kept going. The dogs didn't seem to get any closer for a long time, which buoyed my hopes. I thought I even heard a car once, not too far away. I said nothing to Derrick but we moved along a little faster until we got to the base of the next hill. There I found a well-worn path -- another sign we might be closer to the end of this mess.

The morning sunlight felt warmer where it slashed through the trees. Ice hung from many of the branches like crystal jewels -- and if I hadn't been so worried about Derrick, I would have paused to take in the beauty. But even as we started up the trail, I heard the dogs again -- and closer now. Beyond a doubt, they would reach us soon.

Derrick started to slip as we hit the worst of the incline. I took better hold of him and pulled him upward, both of us bent over and moving slowly. We reached the top --

And we could see all the way down the side to a falling down barn and the road beyond, where a car went by even while we stood there, dumbfounded at the sight we'd worked so hard to reach.

I don't know how long we would have remained if the dogs hadn't started baying. I could hear a voice shouting now as well.

"Too damned close!" Derrick warned. He shook his head and caught my arm, heading down the hillside.

We slid part of the way, which hurt like hell. I couldn't imagine how he felt, but we reached the bottom of the hillside pretty fast.

"Try for the road?" I asked, brushing my scraped palms against ruined clothing. I squirmed at the thought of how bad I must look -- but then considering I'd leapt from a moving car, fallen down a ravine, not slept all night, and hiked in snow, ice and mud... okay, I could give myself a break here.

"Let's head for the road by the barn." Derrick started that way at a limping run. "We'll have a little better cover, and there might be some place to climb if the dogs do catch up with us."

I nodded, afraid to speak because I could hear the dogs coming closer already. Another car went by on the road and I waved frantically -- and fell, pulling Derrick down with me again.

"Sorry," I apologized.

"You did right. We need to try and get someone's attention."

I glanced back, seeing movement along the top. Dogs appeared and a figure -- still in shadow. I couldn't see who stood there.

"Heading for the old barn! Get your ass over there!"

I knew Tom Weston's voice even distorted by the distance. Derrick had already scrambled back to his feet.

"If I had my gun --" He stopped and looked around. He started to limp toward the barn once more.

"They know we're heading there," I protested.

"The barn is the only place with any cover and the only place where we can put a wall to our backs." He sounded more awake and frantic now. He moved on his own, and probably from pure adrenaline. I understood, because I had no trouble keeping up with him.

We reached the barn and pushed our way past the fallen door. Pigeons took off in shouts of anger and surprise, and for a moment they blocked out a more ominous sound -- Junior's truck, coming fast.

"Son of a bitch." Derek shook his head in dismay. "They must be using cell phones. The way Tom shouted, I thought Junior had to be somewhere behind him. I thought we had a chance to get to cover, at least."

"Shouting so Junior could hear him over the damned truck," I guessed. I should have been scared. Instead, I grabbed a good, stout piece of wood, wincing at a sliver in my finger. Derrick gave me a quick smile of appreciation.

We didn't have time to prepare for anything more. He waved me over toward the wall by the fallen door. I started to argue, but he'd taken cover on the other side, so the fool didn't intend to stand there and draw Junior's attention -- and his gun.

Or at least that's what I thought.

Chapter 13

My legs ached. I wanted to sit down and rest, but I could hear Junior's beater coming with a roar I suspected mirrored Junior's anger. I could barely hear the baying of the dogs over the sound, and for a moment if felt as though all hell came at us. My arms trembled and the wood wavered -- but I heard Junior slam the truck door closed, though he left the truck on. If we could get to it --

He came in shooting and my arms froze, though a logical part of my mind told me he fired blind, and wasted the shots. He hadn't seen me, and if I could move up behind him before Tom and the dogs arrived --

I took a step forward and saw him begin to turn, obviously hearing me --

And Derrick stood, throwing a rock or a piece of cement, and hit Junior in the shoulder. He bellowed and swung back, the gun firing as I leapt forward and hit him right across the back of his head.

I feared I might have killed him when he fell. For a moment I felt white cold with a new, unreasoning fear, but as Junior hit the ground he moaned. Not dead yet, then. He started to roll, and I had the wisdom to drop down to my knees and grab his gun out of his hand.

Derrick limped across the debris, half falling in his haste. Blood covered his shoulder again, but he looked better. "Can you handle a gun?" he asked as he knelt down on Junior, grabbing one arm.

"Not well and not today."

"Okay. Help me with his belt and we'll get him tied up. I'll take the gun."

"Like hell you --" Junior began, the words slurred and his movements erratic. Then he stopped with a muffled curse when Derrick shoved his head into the dirt. I thought he might be having trouble breathing, and I didn't think Derrick could hold him down for long.

So I gritted my teeth and reached around under him, fumbling at his belt. Junior mumbled something into the ground that I probably didn't want to hear, so lucky for him Derrick kept his head down.

The dogs howled, far closer now. Tom wouldn't be far away.

Derrick used the belt to tie his arms behind his back, used his own belt for the legs. He quickly drew his arm out of the sling. I could see the cast had cracked and worried about his arm. He used the sling to wrap quickly around Junior's head and into his mouth muffling anything more he had to say.

I helped Derrick back up, handed him the gun, and pulled the coat up over his shoulder again. He nodded thanks, the gun steady in his hand.

"Does he have the cell phone?"

"Can't find one." I patted his pockets. "Probably still in the truck."

"Tom is out there, and too damned close, I think. See if he has more bullets." Derrick nudged a foot at Junior, who had begun to twist and turn, his eyes glaring with every promise of hell if he got loose. That glare shook me a little as I grabbed a dozen bullets out of his pocket. I'd never had anyone hate me so much.

"Good. This way."

He led me back the way he had gone to start with, but he kept watch over his shoulder. I could see Junior kicking and rolling around in the dirt. The dogs grew louder and closer and Junior's truck still sounded as though someone held a foot down on the gas pedal. Even if Tom yelled for him, he wouldn't expect to hear an answer.

"I think there's a hole we can crawl out," Derrick said softly, close to my ear. My skin tingled where his hair brushed across the side of my face and neck. "If we can get Tom and the dogs in here, we might be able to get to the truck."

I nodded, thankful Derrick didn't plan a shootout with Tom. We quickly crossed the barn and reached the hole, but I feared it would be too tight a fit

"Can you clear some of the area?" he asked, glancing back towards the front of the barn again.

Something scattered out of the way as I reached -- mice or rats, I didn't know which. I came close to giving a girly squeal. I grabbed a piece of rotting wood pulled, glancing back only once to see shadows at the front of the building. We didn't have much time.

"Junior! Where the hell are you?"

Junior kicked around and probably made some noise, but I don't think Tom could hear him above the dogs and the truck. He sent the dogs in first, and Derrick brought up the gun \--

But the dogs found Junior, which looked and sounded scary. He'd never treated the dogs well, and maybe they had their revenge. I tuirned away and grabbed the wood again, ignoring splinters, and yanked more free. I didn't want the dogs to find us.

"Get away from him! Get back!" Tom's voice rose above the others. Dogs whined and yipped and apparently got out of the way. I saw Tom kneel and get the covering off Junior's face --

Derrick shot at them. Tom shouted and threw himself back to cover, leaving Junior in the open. I got the last bit of board broken away while the dogs, barked and danced around, not entirely certain what to do.

"Get them you stupid animals! Attack! Attack!"

They knew the word. Derrick fired, and one went down, howling with pain. The others scattered in confusion. I grabbed Derrick's shoulder and leaned close. "We can get out!"

"Go."

"You --"

"I'll be right behind you. I promise!"

I knew he would keep his word. I scrambled out ahead of him. He fired the gun once more before I grabbed his arm and helped pull him out. Snow had started to fall harder.

"The truck --" I said, breathless already.

"He'll watch for us there. Back -- to the trees. Cover there, at least, and closer to the road. We might get someone's attention --"

"Sirens!"

Derrick's head came up and he smiled in a way I never thought to see when it came to police. I grinned like an idiot, too. We could hear Tom and Junior arguing as they came out of the building -- until they heard the sirens as well. They ran for the truck.

"The bastards are not going to get away again." Derrick inched along the side of the barn and I kept close to him. Not safe, but at least the gun would provide some protection of the dogs if they caught up with us.

We reached the edge of the building just as Tom and Junior leapt into the truck. Dogs piled into the back as Tom started backing and turning. I could hear sirens closer, though I couldn't see the cars yet.

I saw Junior hanging out the side window, a rifle in hand -- obviously the weapon Tom had brought with him. Derrick reached back and pushed me behind him. He steadied his gun against the side of the building. I thought he would shoot Junior \-- but he held as the truck turned, bounced over the ruts, and started away --

He shot out both back tires -- damn good marksman. The truck skewed to the side, tilted and mired itself in mud and muck. I had hoped the truck would roll, but we didn't get lucky.

"This is a good idea?" I asked, watching as Junior threw himself out of the truck, crouching down by the engine. Tom joined him a moment later, yelling for his rifle.

"I want them where I can see them," he said. "The cops will be here soon."

I could see the flash of red lights through the snow. A moment later, the first car turned into the drive.

Tom took off at a run, rifle in hand, heading back toward a stand of half dead pines. I didn't think the cops would catch him if he reached the hills, at least not right away.

A good thing Derrick didn't trust him. Miller came out of his car, gun in hand and yelling --

Junior moved first, raising his hands, drawing attention, while Tom, stopped at the pines, turned and brought up the rifle.

Derrick shot him.

Tom fell, tried to get back up and run, but he only made a couple steps before he went back down to his knees. After a few heartbeats of panic and yelling, the other cops got everything in hand. They threw Junior down into the mud and even had Tom handcuffed.

The Westons were not having a good day.

The dogs obeyed the cops, thank God. I leaned back against the building as I saw the animals taken in hand.

Miller rushed toward the two of us, gun in hand. I started to move out in front of Derrick before Miller did something we'd all regret, but Derrick stopped me with a hand on my arm and an unexpected grin.

"Son of a bitch," Miller said, looking from me to Derrick and back again. "You did good work there, Derrick. I can see why your Captain says you're such a good undercover cop."

"Cop?" The word sounded foreign, odd, certainly not a term I understood in the same way --

Derrick still grinned.

"You could have told me!" I said, shocked and momentarily angry.

"You said you didn't want to know."

"I --" I stopped and remembered telling him how I didn't want to hear about his work. "But -- You should have told me!"

He still grinned.

Miller glanced from him to me and back again. He shook his head. "You two want to get in out of the snow now? I have some hot coffee in the car. We'll get you to the clinic in Loma."

I glanced at Derrick who looked like hell. More blood covered his shoulder. I helped him to the police car while the state patrol took care of the Westons. We sat in the back, sipping coffee. I laid my head back -- and didn't wake up until we reached the clinic.

I wanted to stay with Derrick, but Miller said my parents were waiting for me back in Redlin. Derrick patted my arm before they took him away.

"You did good, Ginger. Thank you."

Chapter 14

I felt like a log.

By the time I woke up the next morning, every muscle ached and my nose had started running. I sneezed four times on the way to the bathroom, and only faintly realized I had slept at my parent's house.

Mom had breakfast cooking when I came out, and she waved me into a chair, while shaking her head. "You can't possibly go to Apple Days today --"

"I am going," I wrapped my hands around a cup of chamomile tea. "I want to wear the dress!"

"Ginger --"

"I am going."

Her eyebrows rose at my tone, but then she smiled. "Good. Well, since all you're going to do is lie around all day playing Snow White, I suppose it won't be any worse than being here."

I didn't tell her, but she had probably figured out, the truth. I didn't want to be here by myself. I had finally gotten a case of jitters, thinking back on all that had happened since yesterday morning. Better to have the willies now rather than out there in the woods. We'd gotten through the trouble, Derrick and I.

I pulled on an old pair of jeans and one of mom's bulky sweaters, intending to sit around and do nothing for a couple hours before we had to go to the Apple Days celebration. Miller showed up and sat down with a cup of coffee and blueberry muffin. He asked me again about the night before, and I repeated pretty much everything I'd said on the ride back from Loma. He took notes and nodded a few times, but since he started on his third muffin I had begun to suspect an ulterior motive for coming by.

"I'm heading over to Loma this morning to help finish up the paperwork and get everyone ready to ship down to the state capital this afternoon. Since they'd pulled these crimes in so many different counties, we're all waving our jurisdiction and handing them over to state people." He sipped his coffee and frowned a little. "They arrested Markie and Sally last night, too. The kids are in state care."

"Markie and Sally?" I said, startled.

"The trailers are full of stolen goods -- they'd been robbing houses, too. The kids knew where the stuff had come from, so no one believes Markie and Sally didn't know as well. Sally told us Reba and Shep were in on the robberies too. Damn mess."

I stared, stunned by the last bit of information. Reba had always been opportunistic, at the very least \-- but I hadn't ever thought she'd be stupid enough to get caught up in trouble along with the Westons.

"Any word on Derrick?" I asked, and ignored my mother's smirk.

"He seems to be fine," Miller said. "I'm going to get a statement from him when I'm over in Loma."

"He really is a cop?"

"Oh yes." He nodded several times. "I didn't believe him at first. Chief Abbot talked to his boss this morning. I guess the man is not at all pleased to hear Derrick's been out chasing down crooks and getting himself back into the hospital. Seems he's supposed to be taking time off to recover. He rammed his car into the side of another one driven by a man who was trying to run down his wife and child. Saved their lives."

Mom nodded, not in the least bit surprised. I smiled.

Miller left and I sipped more tea and thought about all the expectations we had in people. I never liked Reba, but I didn't think she was stupid -- well not entirely stupid. I still felt sorry for Markie.

By the time Miller left, I had to get ready for Apple Days, and get back to the real world.

Well, as much of the real world as you can get dressing up like a princess.

Chapter 15 -- Interlude 5

Derrick signed the paperwork, said nice things to the nurse and doctor and took himself out of the clinic as quickly as he could. The day had turned warmer than the last few, and the sun felt good on his face. He stood for a moment in the open air, breathing in. Good air. No taste of cars, no sounds of yelling like down in Florida. He felt peace for the first time in years.

Derrick spotted a café about three blocks away. Good.

He hadn't called his kids yet. He had spent the night at the clinic, and even half-drugged he knew he shouldn't call and talk to them. He had spoken, briefly to Ann, so she knew what had happened, but not his kids. They knew hospital sounds too well. He didn't want to scare them.

He felt like he'd been dragged through the countryside by a truck, rather than by Ginger Ayres. He knew he wouldn't have survived without her and he needed to thank her. He'd be going back to Redlin soon, and for some odd reason that made him smile.

He reached the café as some others came out. He held the door for the older couple who were leaving. They smiled and thanked him, and then the guy caught the door for him, seeing his arm in a sling. Derrick smiled and went in.

The place smelled good. He'd have breakfast after he talked to the kids. And he'd guessed right. They had a phone in the corner.

The kids came running to the phone, yelling and too boisterous -- worried, he knew, but they calmed after he joked with them for a couple minutes. He could hear the relief in their voices.

Then he asked to talk to their aunt.

"Do what you need to take them to Hawaii," he said, swallowing afterwards. "I think they'll have a good time."

"Derrick --"

"I'm not going to be back to work for a while, you know. I think -- I think I'd like to take some time off myself. I need to start rethinking my life and get things worked out. I'm going to stay being a cop, Ann. But I need to start looking beyond my work, too."

Ann didn't speak for a moment. "Good," she said, and he thought he could hear a smile in her words. "You know, maybe you should fly out with us when we go. I think they'd feel better. And as long as you're taking the time off --"

"I don't know if I can afford --"

"Derrick, stop lying to yourself." She sounded a little more stern than normal. "Share a little of this time with your kids, because they're going to grow up fast. They deserve to have some happy memories, don't you think?"

"Yes. Okay. I'll think about it," he said, feeling like he didn't dare say anything else without risking a lecture.

Besides, she was right.

"Good then. How are you doing?"

"Better. I'll be here for a few more days. Maybe a week or more. I want to take care of my grandfather's things. Get a closure here."

"Who are you lying to this time?" Ann asked.

"I'll talk to you later. Go tell the kids we're all going on vacation together. Let me know when and I'll make certain I have the time off."

"That's great! Wonderful!" She laughed. "I'll talk to you soon. Be careful!"

She hung up before he did. Derrick couldn't imagine why she had sounded so excited about him going along with them. She'd been right about something important, though. He needed to stop putting distance between himself and his kids. He didn't intend to yank them out of their life with their aunt and uncle, but things needed to change.

And a sign of all the changes came in the café just as the waitress led him to a table. Miller gave a wave and came over, sitting down without an invitation. Ten years ago... well, he'd been a different person ten years ago.

"You're looking better today Mr. Weston," he said with a grin.

Derrick shook his head. "I am not a Weston you know. I never was one. My mother married Tom Weston years after I was born."

"Oh. Yeah. I knew that." Miller frowned. "Why did everyone call you Weston, then?"

"Tom wouldn't allow them to call me anything else, not at home, not a school -- you didn't fight Tom Weston in those days. It wasn't worth the harassment."

"So what is your name?"

He grinned. "Derrick Dare."

Miller laughed. "Well that suits you far better than Weston. And there's a lot of Dares around Redlin."

"I wouldn't know. I don't know anything about my father. I don't remember him at all. My mother told me he had been in the forces or something, and died stationed somewhere else. Never came home."

"Are you going to try and track him down?"

"Yeah, later, probably. Am I going to have access to my grandfather's things now?"

"I think so," Miller replied. He frowned still. "Derrick Dare. I should have thought about your name before now."

Derrick gave a little shrug and regretted the pull on his wounded shoulder. The waitress brought coffee, eggs, bacon and toast for Derrick and fetched another cup for Miller. He apparently didn't intend to go, and Derrick realized he didn't even mind the company. They'd both gone a long ways since High School.

"We got Tom and Junior shipped off this morning. Markie, Sally, Reba and Shep will go this afternoon," Miller said after his coffee arrived. "I came to tell you at the hospital, but you'd already left. I didn't think you'd have gone far, especially without a car."

"Is Ginger all right?"

"She's fine," Miller said. "I ran by there this morning and she's getting ready for her part in the Apple Days festivities. I thought I'd give you a ride back to Redlin and your car. I hear they got it fixed. No hurry -- finish your breakfast."

Yes. Changes. "That would be great. Thank you."

Chapter 16

Dad met us at the school's auditorium where we held the Apple Days festival. We'd tried having the celebration outdoors on Main Street a couple times, but we got snow on both occasions. Besides, we raised funds for school projects, and everyone seemed to enjoy being inside.

The people in charge of the decorations had outdone themselves this year. A half dozen trees stood in the auditorium, all of them decorated with paper leaves and real apples. A huge backdrop stood at the far end, painted to look like the exterior of a castle. I could see my father's hand there. He had a good eye for perspective.

Outside the castle gate sat a daybed covered in pillows and lace. I made my way to the area, thanking people who expressed their horror at what had happened. Mom put a soda and a box of tissues out of sight but within reach, and caramel-covered apples on a platter before me. For the next three hours I gave those apples away to shy little boys and the little girls who stared at my dress with such longing in their eyes that if I could have, I would have given them each a dress of their own.

I had the most comfortable place in the auditorium. I didn't envy the father and son who playing at the William Tell legend, who would stay on their feet all day, or Uncle David who had the job of Johnny Appleseed this year.

When everyone gathered across the room to hold contests, I settled back on the pillows and rested... and did the one thing I feared. I fell into a light sleep, the sounds around me lulling me to rest. I heard my mother say Snow White slept now as she gave an apple to a little girl who asked, with some trepidation, if she were the Wicked Step Mother.

I almost came awake with a laugh.

Then I slipped farther away, feeling wonderfully comfortable and content and save, even when someone came up to my bed, the slight brush of cloth against my arm. I could hear my mother whispering nearby --

And then I felt lips press against mine, with a soft, sweet kiss. I awoke, startled -- and pleased as I looked into Derrick's amused face.

"You were wrong, you know," he said with a bright smile.

"Wrong?" I asked softly.

"I must be Prince Charming after all."

### The End

###

About the Author:

Lazette Gifford has publications in both electronic and print format, including material from Double Dragon Publishing, Yard Dog Press, Eggplant Literary Productions, Ideomancer, Fables, Andromeda Spaceways Inflight Magazine and more. She owns Forward Motion for Writers and is the editor/publisher for Vision: A Resource for Writers.

### Connect with Zette

Web Site: http://lazette.net

Twitter: http://twitter.com/lazetteg

Joyously Prolific Blog: http://zette.blogspot.com/

