Natural Reaction (13 page)

“Forty years?” he exclaimed. “I’ve been hanging around for forty years?”

“Aye,” Ian said. “The trail’s pretty cold, so we’re going to need anything and everything you can remember.”

They heard a noise in the hallway. “Ah, Speech Team is over,” Mary said. “Charlie, we’ve got to go, but we’ll be back to ask you some more questions.”

Charlie shrugged. “I’ll be here.”

They slipped out the door and quietly made their way to the end of the hall. They could hear the students tease Mr. Connors, the Speech Team coach, and heard his bantering with them. Finally, the outside door closed and the high school was still.

“Ready?” Mary asked.

Ian nodded. “More than ready,” he said. “High school scared me to death.”

It was dark when Bradley pulled up in front of Mary’s house. He and Mike made their way up to her front door and Bradley knocked while Mike stuck his head through the door to see if anyone was home.

“Rosie and Stanley are there,” he said, pulling his head back. “And the kids are home, but there’s no sign of Mary or Ian.”

“Hmmm, well at least we know that she and Ian aren’t going to be looking into anything dangerous,” Bradley said.

Mike chuckled.
“Yeah, right.”

Bradley shot him a look of concern and was about to say something when the door opened. Rosie smiled up at Bradley. “Well, hello, Bradley,” she said, “How nice to see you.”

“Hello, Rosie, it’s good to see you too,” he replied. “Is Mary home?”

“Chief Alden,” Andy cried, racing across the room. “Mary and Ian are breaking into the high school to catch a ghost.”

“Oh, dear,” Rosie sighed, biting her lower lip.

“Breaking in?
As in breaking and entering?”
Bradley asked Rosie.

“Well, not really breaking in,” she said. “The door is unlocked, so they are merely entering, that’s all. There’s not a law against entering, is there?”

Bradley rolled his eyes. “Well, at least she has Ian with her.”

“Oh, like that’s going to help?” Mike teased.

Bradley felt a tug on his coat and looked down to find Maggie at his side. He smiled at her. “Hello Maggie,” he said, running his hand over her soft hair. “What can I do for you?”

“I miss Ian,” she said. “Is he coming home soon?”

Bradley nodded. “He’d better be.”

“Just got a call from Mary, she and Ian are on their way home,” Stanley called from the kitchen.

“Stanley, don’t come out here,” Rosie yelled.

“What?” he asked.

He walked into the living room wearing a big white apron covered with flour. As a matter of fact, Bradley realized, he was totally covered in flour. Glancing around the room, Bradley saw the rest of the group also seemed to be wearing flour in the most unusual places. Maggie had flour on her nose and forehead. Andy’s hair and shirt were coated. Rosie had a bit of flour on her cheek and on the back of her shirt, in the shape of handprints.

“What happened to you?” Bradley asked.

“Whoever puts their flour canister on a top shelf with the lid loose is asking for a mess, that’s all I have to say,” Stanley grumbled.

“The flour spilled all over Stanley,” Maggie said. “He looks like a snowman.”

“Yeah, it was so cool,” Andy added. “There’s flour everywhere in there.
Me
and Maggie got to have a food fight with Stanley. At least until Rosie told Stanley to stop.”

“Yeah, then he kissed her and got flour on her cheek and her back,” Maggie giggled.

“Sounds like a good time,” he laughed.

“Well, it weren’t a good time,” Stanley said, a blush appearing on his wrinkled cheeks. “And now, some of us have to go to the store for more flour.”

“While you’re gone, the rest of us will sweep up your mess,” Rosie said. “And don’t forget milk. Mary’s almost out.”

“I won’t forget,” he said, letting himself out the door.

Bradley squatted down next to Maggie and brushed the flour off her nose and forehead. “
A food fight
, really?” he asked.

She grinned at him. “It was so fun,” she said, her eyes widening. “My mom would never let us do something like that.”

“Your mom is very smart,” Bradley replied.

Andy came up next to him, a worried line furrowing his forehead. “Stanley said it was okay. Honest.”

Bradley reached over and ruffled the boy’s hair, a puff of flour escaping into the air. “Well, then, it must have been okay, because Stanley knows what he’s doing,” he said. “But we might want to clean it up before Mary and Ian get home.”

Bradley shrugged off his coat and hung it in the closet. He rolled up the sleeves to his uniform shirt, exposing muscular forearms with a light dusting of dark hair. He smiled to the children. “Come on; let’s clean the kitchen so Rosie can keep cooking.”

“Oh, no, Bradley,” Rosie fluttered. “I can’t let you clean up this mess. You’ve worked all day. You probably haven’t eaten dinner. You need too…”

Bradley looked over his shoulder at her, while he walked into the kitchen. “I’m fine, Rosie, real…
ahhhhhh
!”

Slipping on the slick floury kitchen floor, Bradley windmilled his arms as his feet flew out from under him and he landed on his back in a huge puff of white powder. He groaned softly.

“Bradley, are you okay?” Rosie gasped.

He nodded, raising his head and looking over at her.
“Yeah.
But you stay where you are, I don’t want you to slip.”

She giggled softly. “Oh, no, I don’t want to end up on my backside either.”

Bradley turned the other way to see both Maggie and Andy staring at him, their eyes wide and their faces worried. “If either of you laughs at me, you’re in trouble,” he said with a grin.

Andy slapped both hands over his mouth, but it was too late. A chortle escaped. Bradley rolled over and grabbed Andy around the waist, carefully wrestling him to the floor. “Now, you’re in for it,” he threatened, scooping up a handful of flour and stuffing it down Andy’s shirt.

“This is war,” Andy yelled, tossing fistfuls of flour into the air in the general direction of Bradley’s head.

“Yeah, war,” Maggie shouted, jumping on top of both of them.

Mary hurried up the front porch stairs. “I can’t believe it’s so late,” she said, punching the security code into the lock. “I hope Bradley hasn’t been here for long.”

“Don’t worry,” Ian said. “Rosie’s probably got the kids in bed, the cinnamon rolls made and the kitchen in perfect order.”

“Yeah,” Mary
agreed,
her hand on the door knob. “And Bradley’s probably relaxing with his feet up.”

Mary stepped into the house and stared at the confusion in the kitchen. “Well,” she said to Ian. “I was right about one thing; Bradley does have his feet up.”

Bradley was lying on his back in the middle of the kitchen floor, his legs wrapped around Andy who was liberally sprinkling him with a dust pan filled with flour. Maggie appeared from the other side of the kitchen, poured a wooden spoon filled with flour on both of them, and danced back, keeping a step or two away from Bradley’s outstretched arms.

“Get back here, you traitor,” Bradley called. “You promised you would be on my side.”

“I’m on my own side,” Maggie giggled.

Mary closed the door with a slight thump and the room was immediately quiet.

“Uh, oh,” Maggie whispered, hiding the spoon behind her back.

Bradley turned towards the door and Andy dumped the remaining flour onto the side of his face, covering him completely. He coughed and a cloud of flour surrounded his head.

“Ian, you’re home,” Maggie yelled, running across the room and throwing her flour covered body against him.

He caught her up in his arms and looked down at her. “So, who do I have in
me
arms?” he asked. “It looks like a sugar cookie, not quite cooked.”

She giggled. “It’s me, Maggie,” she explained. “
Me
and Andy are helping Chief Alden clean up the flour.”

“And doing a remarkable job at it,” Ian said, glancing over at Bradley. “Remind me never to hire you as a cleaning lady.”

Bradley coughed again and blinked away the flour covering his eyes. “We seem to have had a little accident here,” he explained.

Mary strolled across the room and looked at them. Both were covered with flour, their dark hair barely visible beneath the coating of white. Andy’s face was a patchwork of freckles and flour. Bradley’s an interesting combination of five o’clock shadow and white.

“So, um, what happened?” Mary asked.

“We
was
cleaning up the mess Stanley made,” Andy explained, “And then Chief Alden slipped and fell on the floor. I was laughing so hard I spilled some flour on him.”

Bradley coughed again, but this time it was directed at Andy.

Andy sighed. “Okay, I threw some flour at him,” he admitted. “But he threw it back at me.”

“He started it,” Bradley said.

Mary bit the inside of her lip to keep from laughing and just shook her head. “I want you both to go out to the back porch and shake off as much flour as you can,” she ordered.

“Yes, Mary,” Andy said, trying to hid a grin.

Bradley stood up, showering the area with more flour. “Yes, Mary,” Bradley repeated, but when she tried to turn away he caught her and gave her a big floury hug. “He
did
start it.”

“You are such an idiot,” she laughed, pushing him away and dusting herself off. “Go outside, now!”

“Do I have to go outside too, Mary?” Maggie asked.

Ian carried her over to the sink and stood her up on the counter. “Ach, no, I’ll have you cleaned up in a trice,” he said.

He pulled a feather duster out of the cabinet below the sink and held it in front of the little girl. “Are you ticklish by any chance?” he asked.

She giggled. “No,” she lied.

He ran the duster across the top of her head and she laughed uncontrollably.

“I think you fibbed.”

Mary grabbed a large bath towel and joined them at the sink. “I think this might do a better job,” she said, wiping most of the flour off the little girl. “And now, my dear, I think it’s time for a bath.”

An hour later, the children were finally calm and in their beds. The kitchen was clean and cinnamon rolls were rising on the countertop.

Rosie and Stanley stood at the doorway ready to leave. Stanley’s hair was still covered in flour and Rosie was trying hard to stifle her laughter. “Just put those rolls in the refrigerator once they’re done rising,” she said. “Then you can bake them in the morning.”

“Thank you for making them and watching the children,” Mary said.

“Oh, well, it was much more fun than I had imagined,” Rosie giggled. “Stanley and I will come back tomorrow morning.”

She leaned forward and whispered. “And you can tell me about you-know-what.”

Nodding, Mary glanced over her shoulder to where Bradley was standing next to the sink, dressed only in his t-shirt, uniform pants and socks, shaking the flour out of his shirt and shoes. “Perfect, see you then.”

She closed the door after them, leaned against the wall and sighed. “Well, that was fun,” she said.

Bradley, his hair still peppered with flour, looked up from the shirt and sighed. “I really am sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean for it to get so out of hand.”

“Yeah, I watched the whole thing,” Mike added. “He’s the victim here all right. There were two of them and they took him by surprise. He didn’t have a chance.”

Ian chuckled. “Aye, they’re a crafty team, alright,” he said. “Posing as innocent children, and yet, they’re probably wee bakers with an ax to grind or at the very least, some wheat to grind.”

“Very funny,” Bradley grumbled.

He rolled his shirt up in a ball and picked up his shoes. “Are you sure you don’t need my help with the bathroom clean-up?” he asked. “I’m sure it’s pretty bad.”

“Mike and I are going up there just now,” Ian said. “So, you two say your good-byes and don’t worry about us.”

“I’m just supervising,” Mike said, as he floated up the stairs behind Ian. “There’s no way I want flour stuck to me. I’d look like a ghost.”

Bradley chuckled and walked over to Mary. He put his hands against the wall behind her and slowly leaned towards her. “Is this okay?” he asked, “Any flashbacks?”

She lowered her head and then shook it.

He bent his head, trying to make eye contact, but she dropped her face even further.

“Mary, are you okay?” he asked. “Am I frightening you?”

A chortle escaped her lips and he watched her shoulders shake in silent laughter. She finally lifted her head; tears were streaming down her face which was red from trying to hold back her amusement. She lifted her hand to her mouth, “I’m so sorry,” she giggled. “I was really trying…”

He lifted her chin with his finger. “Trying to do what? Resist my half-baked personality?”

She giggled, “I am trying to watch my carb intake.”