Independence Day (4 page)

“Uh-huh.” The normally loquacious cab driver seemed to suppress a grin. “We’ll get you to your destination safe and sound. The Atlantic Hall, you said?”

“Right.” He looked out the window as if he found
the passing New England scenery fascinating, hoping Felicity would think conversation an intrusion.

Truth be told, he couldn’t think straight. Chessie, with her unlikely behavior, had yanked out his emotional underpinnings, sending his senses and his thoughts reeling. He could only await her next salvo. He’d always thought of himself as a proactive kind of guy. He hated feeling reactive.

Because Pritchard’s Neck was a small community, it didn’t take long before Felicity pulled up in front of the hall. Reaching in his pocket and withdrawing a twenty, Nick dropped it on the front seat, then vaulted from the taxi without waiting for change. The moment’s urgency overrode any sense of frugality.

He had to get to Chessie before she took her clothes off. Or if she’d stripped already, he had to bundle her up and hustle her home, back to routine and sanity. He was prepared to bodily carry her away if necessary. Pressing through the hall’s outer door, he charged up the stairs, up to the meeting room where his wife might even now be lounging in the altogether.

Chessie had posed, briefly, as a single college student. Back then, he’d thought her daring sexy. Now, the thought made him seethe. What in blazes did the woman think this stunt was going to do to two impressionable teenage daughters?

“Chessie!” His voice echoed on the upper landing as he thrust the door to the meeting room open
and caught the gaze of the lovely model in the circle of easels. Chessie. His Chessie.

She reclined against a stool, her arms, shoulders and feet bare, one slender leg emerging from the folds of a white sheet draped about her as if she was a Greek goddess. She’d swept her Titian hair up on top of her head, exposing her long, smooth neck. Surprisingly, she showed more flesh when she bicycled about town in tank top and gym shorts, but somehow the toga was more sultry, more suggestive. His wife was, in fact, unmistakably, breathtakingly beautiful.

And, having burst, like a Viking marauder on drugs, into the room full of fellow Pritchard’s Neck residents, he felt the fool. Yet he still couldn’t bring himself to let go of the unaccountable anger he felt.

Chessie beamed at him, then turned to the stunned little group. “It’s about time to take a break, yes?”

The artists agreed with alacrity as if Nick might begin the pillage at any moment.

Swishing lightly toward him, Chessie seemed a different woman. Neither of this time or place. Certainly not the mother of two teenage girls.

For a minute Nick had thoughts of how her costume might play out in their bedroom. Abruptly, he reined in those thoughts. If he could be turned on by this getup, what about Sandy Weston over there, pretending to put the finishing touches on his sketch, or
Patrick Goodall who seemed to pay a great deal of attention to the sharpening of his pencil?

Nick had always consigned jealousy to the knuckle-draggers, but now Chessie’s exposure cut deep to a possessiveness he didn’t know he had.

She drew him out on the landing, then closed the door behind them. “I’m assuming UPS delivered more than the usual school supplies.”

“You assume right.” Trying and failing to find a neutral tone of voice, he lifted the corner of her toga. “This isn’t what I had in mind when you said you were joining a professional group.”

“It’s just for today. The model canceled. Next week I’ll be on the other side of the easel. Fully clothed.”

After today, with his all-too-public reaction to her participation, he didn’t want her on either side of the easel with this group. He wondered if she even had anything on under that outfit.

She touched his cheek with her fingertips. Her eyes flashed mischief. “Were you about to carry me off, Nick?”

“If you were nude, yes.” He felt like one of his students caught doing something rash and adolescent. And totally uncool.

“How politically incorrect,” she sighed. “How impulsive. How almost romantic. Against my better judgment, I’m flattered.”

She thought his actions romantic? She was flattered?

Comprehension dawned.

“So this is how you’d have me spice up our marriage?” he demanded. “Cut out of work early? Spend my last twenty on a cab? Barge like a fool into a group of residents, three of them with kids in my school?” Prickly heat rose up the back of his neck.

“You spent your last twenty on a cab?” she asked as if she hadn’t heard anything else. “That’s something my boyfriend Nick would do.”

“Well, boyfriend Nick didn’t have three mouths to feed.” He gestured toward the closed door. “That seems beside the point now. What are those people thinking?”

“Oh, for goodness’ sake. They only know you’re upset. We have two teenage daughters. It could be anything.”

“But it was you.”

“Yes.” A dreamy look crept into her eyes. “You came for me—in a cab that wasn’t in the budget, no less—because you were, what, intrigued? Jealous? Hot to get behind one of those easels yourself and take up a new career?”

“I was—am—ticked.”

“That’s better than preoccupied.”

Suddenly weary, he turned away. “Don’t expect me to play the town fool again to inject some fizz in a marriage that you, for some reason, seem to think has gone flat. I’m going home.”

Chessie reached for him. “Just when we’ve begun to get to the heart of the matter?”

“Is that what you call it?” Eluding her touch, he started downstairs. “I thought we’d reached an impasse.”

“You can’t walk away, Nick!” She opened the door to the meeting room and called, “Sorry, folks. Family emergency. See you next week,” then followed her husband down the stairs and out the door into the town square.

Nick winced. Although he didn’t pause to look over his shoulder, he could imagine how she looked, barefoot and determined, with that…that…toga flapping.

It was just his luck that Eban Hoffman, one of the local lobstermen, stood at the hardware store gas pumps, filling his pickup, watching with taciturn interest every movement on the square. Six hounds in the truck bed stood at attention as they spotted Chessie, who padded up alongside Nick.

“Would you slow down?” she asked, breathless, clutching fabric to her chest. “My sheet’s unraveling.”

Sure enough, great swaths of the makeshift robe flapped like pennants in the brisk coastal breeze. She was in danger of exposing more than shoulders and arms.

What did she have on under that thing?

Eban’s dogs, excited by the movement, began to bark and pace the truck bed, eager to get out and join the fun. Their owner, more interested in the drama playing out before him than in controlling his dogs, stood staring and scratching his head.

Nick refused to prolong this public entertainment.
With authority, he swept Chessie into his arms and began marching for the privacy of home, the sheet billowing out behind them.

“Oh, my,” Chessie said as if this was just the afternoon’s activity she’d had in mind.

Not about to waste breath explaining to her that his actions did not in any way constitute romance or a harbinger of marital changes to come, he picked up his pace. He simply wanted to get her off the square before disaster struck.

Too late.

“Come back he-ah this instant!” Eban shouted.

Nick heard the playful canine whines, heard the scrabble of claws on asphalt, heard the jingle of rabies tags before the dogs surrounded them. Yapping, jumping, snapping and intent on seizing whatever loose fabric they could reach in a frenzied game of tug o’ war, they probably hadn’t had this much fun since that crate of spider crabs got loose at the pier.

Chessie shrieked as two dogs, their toothy grip firm in a corner of trailing sheet, their eight combined feet planted in the roadside grass, threatened by sheer dog-headedness to unwrap her.

Nick broke into a jog.

Just as Eban and Hamilton Quick, owner of the hardware store, caught up with them, one of the dogs, leaped up and snapped. Instead of coming away with a prized hunk of fabric, he sank his teeth into Nick’s left buttock.

W
ERE HER PARENTS TRYING
to screw up her life totally?

It sure seemed that way.

Having escaped to Keri’s room, Gabriella wanted to disappear from the face of the earth. Pushing herself back into the mound of stuffed animals on her friend’s bed, she tried to erase the awful memory of
them
in the square just now. Tried to focus on the perfectly normal trip to the mall beforehand. Focus on her new flavored lip gloss. On running into Danny Aiken, Keri’s boyfriend. On Danny saying how phat Gabriella’s haircut was…

Not on the ride home when—excruciating minutes ago— Mrs. Weiss had driven into the square and there they were: Dad carrying Mom. Mom wearing a sheet. That dog taking a bite of Dad’s butt. Everybody running out of the hardware store. Yelling. Pointing.

At her parents.

They looked like they were trying out for some lame reality show.

Now, as she heard Mrs. Weiss’s SUV pull out of
the driveway below, taking Mom and Dad to the emergency room, she tried to think how she could make sure her parents’ behavior didn’t cross her new friends’ radar.

Her new cool friends, thanks to Keri.

“Parents can be so…gross.” Keri wasn’t helping matters. If she thought Mom and Dad were gross, what would Danny think? Or Baylee Warner? Or Margot Hensley? Or anyone else in Danny’s group. And now Keri’s group by association.

Gabriella wanted this new crowd to be hers, as well. No such luck with her parents acting whack.

“Do you hear what I’m saying?” Keri was right in her face. “You have got to, like, prove you’re not just as weird.”

“As who?”

“As your parents.” Keri made a face. “Wake up. You need damage control here.”

As if she needed to be told.

“This is our freshman year coming up, Gabs. Do you want to be in, or do you want to be out?”

She’d been so close to being out for the past year since moving to Pritchard’s Neck. Keri had been her only real friend. Now Keri had moved into the winner’s circle as Danny’s girlfriend, and Gabriella knew Keri was trying not to leave her behind.

What scared Gabriella more than anything in the world was the thought of being left behind.

“Well?” Keri poked her in the ribs.

“Do I even have to answer that?”

“You’d better come up with some answers before we both find ourselves on the outside looking in.” There was something like fear in Keri’s eyes.

Gabriella knew Keri was on probation. Danny could only bring her so far into his circle. The group had to cast its approval, too. And if the group wanted to test Keri’s loyalty by having her dump a former friend—a friend with even the whiff of geek or weirdo about her—well… The thought made Gabriella queasy.

“What can I do?”

“Make sure you’re a whole lot cooler than your family.”

Gabriella tried to bury herself in the stuffed animals again, but Keri yanked her upright. “The hair’s a start,” she said. “Brilliant even. Danny said so.”

“The hair will be history by the time school starts. Remember the dress code?”

“Yeah. Your dad’s dress code. Could it get any worse than your father as principal?”

“My mom, Fourth-of-July nutcase.”

“Your dad, dog food.”

Her dad on the way to the emergency room in Mrs. Weiss’s SUV because his Volvo was AWOL and Mom’s Mini Cooper was too tiny for him to lie on his stomach.

“Hey, Danny wasn’t in the square, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Gabriella pointed out in weak defense.

“No, but Kurt Ryan’s dad was coming out of the
hardware. And Baylee’s mom works in the E.R. How soon do you figure before everyone knows?”

Gabriella pulled the comforter over her head. “I wish I was dead.”

“There’s no time for that.” Keri pulled the cover aside. “You gotta think how to keep far away from all this before you get blackballed.”

“How are we going to do that?”

Keri raised one eyebrow, and Gabriella realized there didn’t have to be a
we
. This was her problem. Keri could wash her hands of it.

But Keri softened. Maybe it was because they were such good friends, or maybe Keri needed someone lower on the totem pole than her. “For the summer the hair’s a good start. But we gotta keep people thinking you’re out there.”

Gabriella didn’t feel out there. Not even with her new haircut. She felt miserable. Saddled with a lame family. And in over her head.

Keri jumped off the bed and began examining her face in her dresser mirror. “A boyfriend would be huge.”

Gabriella didn’t feel ready for a boyfriend. That Keri had met Danny two weeks ago at the beach and had chased him till he’d given her the time of day made Gabriella’s jaw drop. She didn’t want to think what Keri might’ve done to make Danny so loyal so quick. No, the idea of a boyfriend made Gabriella nervous.

“Boyfriends take time,” she replied. “I need something quick.”

“You gotta be fearless. You gotta act as if you don’t care what your parents think.”

Easy for Keri to say. She was an only child. Her mom treated her more like a girlfriend than a daughter, and her dad treated her like a princess.

“You suggesting I start smoking and hanging around street corners?” Gabriella asked sarcastically.

“No,” Keri replied, serious. “Everybody smokes and hangs around street corners. You need to be awesome. A standout. Plus, you don’t need to waste attitude on just anybody. Save it for when you’re hanging around Baylee or Margot or Kurt.”

“As in?”

“As in when we’re at the mall together, you might lift a lip gloss rather than pay for it.”

“Shoplift? I don’t need to steal.” Besides, it was wrong. Just wrong. And Keri should know better. Gabriella’s father might be a principal, but Keri’s was a cop.

“Nobody needs to shoplift. It’s just for kicks.” Keri narrowed her eyes. “But you’re right. You don’t need to do it. It’s not original. You need something fresh.”

Something beyond smoking and theft? Gabriella didn’t like the sound of the words
fearless
or
fresh.
“Couldn’t I aim for something like best dressed?”

Keri looked at Gabriella’s outfit. “Not when your mom makes your tops and you buy your jeans at a discount store. We’re gonna take care of that, don’t you worry, but first we gotta come up with a rep for you.”

Gabriella’s family hadn’t stayed in one place long enough for her to get a reputation. She was always just the new kid.

“How about smart?”

“In high school?” Keri made as if to slit her throat. “Look at your sister, the brainy poet. Just another word for nerd.”

If Isabel was a nerd, was Gabriella? She thought of her dad. Not making the honor roll had never been an option in their family. “Funny?”

“Funny walks a thin line with stupid. Some people might think what happened in the square this afternoon was funny. Do you want to be known that way?”

Gabriella absolutely did not.

“Don’t worry.” Keri flopped on the bed beside her. “I’m going to make you over this summer. I’m not a hundred percent sure how, but by the time school starts, everyone’s going to be asking who Gabriella McCabe is. Hey, maybe not Gabriella!” Keri jumped to her feet. “Maybe Tiffany. Or Brianna. Or Kayla. Have you thought of changing your name?”

“Why?”

“’Cause Gabriella sounds like an old lady, and Gabby sounds like a cowboy on the retro western channel.”

Change her name? Her parents would freak. “I don’t know—”

“You don’t know?” Her friend’s look turned harsh. “Do you want to consider your options? Like
the losers’ lunch table? It’s no different in high school than it was in junior high. Maybe worse.”

That table with the fat kids. The picked-on, misunderstood and unattractive kids. The ones who fit in with no group whatsoever except losers. In a couple schools she’d been one of them.

She wasn’t going back to that table. Not ever. A new name and identity suddenly appealed to her.

“Aside from picking a name, what do I have to do?”

“Nothing yet.” Keri slipped her arm around Gabriella’s shoulders. “Just leave everything to me.”

With her future in Keri’s hands, Gabriella’s thoughts slipped back to her parents. She wondered if her father had made it to the emergency room yet. And hoped that Baylee’s mom wasn’t on duty this afternoon.

“W
OULD MUSIC HELP
?” Martha asked from the driver’s seat.

“No.” Lying on his stomach in the back of the Weisses’ SUV, Nick spoke between clenched teeth. “Thank you.”

This day had turned out to be—literally—one big pain in the ass.

“We’re almost there, honey,” Chessie reassured him. “I can see the sign for the emergency room.”

“Just drop me off.” He knew the E.R. took cases in order of severity. Dog bite would be way down the priority list. He didn’t need two women—one he was royally ticked at—hovering over him for a couple hours. “I’ll call a cab when I’m done.”

“Nonsense,” Martha countered cheerfully. “You’ll need moral support.”

He thought he heard a suppressed giggle.

Shifting his weight, he groaned at the stab of pain. Cautiously, he felt his backside. The bleeding seemed to have stopped, but his trousers—his new trousers—were ripped badly, and the fabric stuck to his skin with what he could only assume was dried blood. He’d have to walk into the E.R. with an immodest patch of himself hanging out.

“Do you have anything I could tie around my waist?” he asked. “Just so I don’t give the world a free show.”

“Hold on,” Martha replied, pulling to a stop under the hospital portico.

The back doors to the SUV opened, and Chessie handed him the sheet she’d been wearing. He nearly threw his back out, turning to see what she had on. A tank top and a pair of jeans with the store labels still hanging off them.

“Martha let me wear a pair she picked up at the mall,” she explained. “Wrap the sheet around you.”

“I’m not wearing that damned sheet.” He struggled to slide backward out of the SUV. “What else do you have?”

“This,” Martha replied briskly, tying a huge plastic Macy’s bag around his waist. Empty, it flapped behind him like half a loincloth. “Now, lean on your wife. I’m going to park the car and wait in it. I picked up plenty of new magazines today, so don’t think I’m in a rush.”

Chessie threaded her arm under his and across his back, but he pulled away. “I don’t need help.”

“Nick, I’m sorry. No one could’ve anticipated this.”

As he limped ahead of her through the emergency entrance, he winced at the pain dogging his every step. Warm moisture trickling down the back of his thigh told him the wound had reopened.

“May I help you?” the nurse behind the desk asked.

“A dog bit me,” Nick replied. “I think I need stitches.”

The nurse handed him a clipboard with a form attached. “Do you know if the dog had been immunized for rabies?”

“The owner assured me it had.” Call that the only plus in this doggone day.

“Fill out the form, and a doctor will look at you as soon as possible.” The nurse motioned to a row of chairs against the wall. “You can have a seat over there.”

“He can’t.” Chessie pointed to his backside. “Sit, that is.”

“Chessie,” he growled, grabbing the clipboard. He headed for the corner.

“Mr. McCabe! What you doin’ in here?”

Nick turned slowly to see Chris Filmore, the high school’s star running back, hobbling on crutches out of the examination area. A bright white cast covered his left leg. The sight did not bode well for the upcoming football season.

“What happened, Chris?”

“Broke my leg.” The kid looked sheepish. “Playing Frisbee at the beach. What are you in for?”

“A dog bit me.”

“Where?”

“In the square.”

“No, man. I mean where did he bite you?”

How did a high-school principal refer to that particular part of the anatomy with a student?

As Chris surveyed the plastic shopping bag draped over Nick’s backside, understanding crept into his face. “Oh, the glute.” The corner of his mouth twitched. “And here I was feelin’ embarrassed.”

“Glad I could ease your pain,” Nick muttered and held up the clipboard to signal the end of the conversation.

“See you in September.” Chris headed for the exit, amusement lacing his farewell.

Chessie stood wide-eyed before Nick.

“I suppose you find this all very funny, too,” he said.

“I don’t see humor in someone else’s discomfort…but getting all tense isn’t going to help the situation.”

“Thank you, Doctor.” He wedged himself in the corner of the waiting room and, standing, began to fill out the patient information sheet. It wasn’t her butt all bruised and bleeding under a red, white and blue sale bag.

“I’m going to call the girls.” She backed away. “Can I get you a soda?”

“No.” He kept writing. The fluorescent glare made his head hurt.

When she left, he felt suddenly smaller that he was hanging on to his anger. He felt weary, too. Bone weary. He handed the completed form back to the desk nurse.

An hour and forty-five minutes later, he lay facedown on an examination table as a cheerful young resident stitched up his backside. “So, Mr. McCabe,” she said, “how’d you happen to anger this particular dog?”

“He was rescuing me,” Chessie piped up from her spot at his head. “From a very large pack.”

“Ah, a hero.”

“Just a high-school principal,” Nick replied. He’d given up rising to any bait.

“A high-school principal? How’s your work schedule for next week?”

“I can’t take it off if that’s what you’re asking.”

“No. I was just curious how many meetings you have to attend.”

“Way too many.”

“Well, you’re going to have to attend standing up. I don’t think even a hemorrhoid doughnut would give you any relief.”

Fine. He was going to have to do enough explaining as it was. He didn’t need a shiny red rubber prop to add to the merriment.

“There. Finished.” The resident backed away.
“Mrs. McCabe, you’re going to have to make sure this wound is kept—”

“I can handle it.” Nick gingerly found the floor and stood.

“Not unless you have eyes in the back of your head,” the resident countered. “Besides, you have a bigger task.”