The Secrets of Rosa Lee (7 page)

R
everend Micah Parker circled Randi's bar parking lot twice, unsure what to do. It was almost midnight and this was no place he thought he'd ever be.

He couldn't miss the Rogers sisters' van parked sideways in three parking slots. He had no doubt the call from Randi Howard had been real. The woman who'd phoned him must not have been aware of his occupation, since she'd called him mister and not reverend. Would she have asked him to come after the sisters if she'd known?

He thought of what Reverend Milburn would say if his assistant minister was spotted in the town's wildest bar.

Micah smiled, realizing he didn't much care. If the Rogers sisters needed help, he'd promised to be there. End of story. He parked next to a huge Dodge pickup covered in mud and got out, pulling his suit coat off. It wouldn't do to go into a country bar looking like a salesman or, he laughed, like a preacher.

When Micah walked inside, familiar sounds and smells greeted him. Smoke, whiskey, sawdust. The whine of two-stepping music that had been born in this environment and the clink of glasses. Raw laughter crackled within conversations carried at full volume.

Memories flooded his mind. His third year of college Amy had miscarried and couldn't work for six weeks.
He'd taken on another part-time job so he could stay in school. Sweeping up at a bar had been the only thing that fit into his time schedule. When they'd got back on their feet financially, he'd quit. Micah had been surprised how much he missed the people he'd met and watched every night for months. He'd learned that bar lights reveal layers of truth, like a CAT scan. Weaknesses, dreams and heart-aches show up clearly in tobacco-tinted illumination.

His eyes adjusted to the mixture of smoky shadows and twinkling lights along a ceiling covered in beer posters. The place seemed bigger than it appeared to be from the outside. A long mahogany bar ran the length of the far wall. Tables circled round a dance floor on one end, pool tables on the other. Most of the chairs near the dance floor were empty. A group of men played pool. Half of the stools were occupied at the bar.

Most of the men wore Western clothes. A few others looked like oil-field workers who'd put in a full day before stopping by. Muddy boots, Western or Red Wing, were the style. Women mingled among the men. A few looked like they'd lived on murky air way too long, for their faces were pale beneath layers of makeup.

Micah remembered it was Monday night. If this place was like the one he'd worked at, the folks in at this time of night were drinkers, not partiers or fighters. He'd guess they were folks with nowhere else to be and no one waiting for them. They'd finish the night alone with only a six-pack for company.

He noticed a tall woman behind the bar watching him. She had shoulder-length red hair pulled up on one side and an honest face. “You Micah Parker?” She spoke in the same whiskey-smooth voice he'd heard on the phone.

He shook rain from his hair. “I am. Are you Randi with an
i?
” He felt like a paperback detective.

She nodded. “From the way you're dressed, you're not working the oil field or any ranch around, but town folks are welcome here, as well.”

“Correct.” He thought of introducing himself by occupation, but for a moment, he just wanted to be Micah Parker, period. “I'm the designated driver for the Rogers sisters, at your service.”

Randi probably learned a long time ago not to ask too many questions. She pointed toward a beer and raised one eyebrow.

He shook his head. “How'd the sisters end up being your problem tonight?”

“They came in about an hour ago. Appears they had quite a scare today and decided some wine would help them sleep. According to Ada May, they went through every bottle in the house and were still frightened, so they drove over here.”

“They come here often?”

She nodded toward a hairy man serving drinks at the other end of the bar. “Frankie said he's sold them holiday wine a few times, but they haven't been in since I bought the place last year.” Randi grinned. “One of the guys over near the pool table commented that they shouldn't be in a place like this, being retired teachers and all. Beth Ann hit him with her bag. Before I could get around the counter, they'd landed at least a half-dozen blows on other men standing within range.”

Micah fought down a laugh. “I hope no one was hurt.”

“No one that would admit it except Shorty Brown. He claimed a crochet needle poked out of her bag and hit him in the eye.” She leaned a little closer. “If he'd wanted to press charges I'd have had to call the sheriff instead of you.”

“I guess I'd better have a talk with the ladies.” Micah tried not to smile. “Where you got them locked up?”

She lifted the walk-through and motioned him behind the bar. As he passed, he realized she stood even with him. It wasn't often he saw a woman his height. In the crowded space, she couldn't step more than a few inches away. He brushed against her as he passed.

Micah kept his gaze steady on her eyes. For a second, their bodies pressed against one another. From the smell of her hair to the softness of her breasts against his arm, he became very aware of her as a woman.

He thought of the bar lights and hoped she couldn't see too deeply into his thoughts.

“I put them in my office with a bottle of their favorite apricot wine,” Randi said, as though she didn't notice anything unusual about standing so close to a man she'd just met.

Micah followed her into a small room behind the bar. It had a one-way mirror, so anyone inside could see what was going on at the bar. Papers and notes covered a desk and the safe in one corner sat open. The sisters watched the mirror as if it were a TV. Two empty glasses sat between them.

“Evening, ladies.” Randi greeted them with a smile. “I called your friend. He'll see you home.”

Ada May giggled. “Evening, Micah. So glad you could join us. Would you like a glass of wine?” She lifted the bottle and refilled her glass to the rim.

“Yes, do have a drink if you're allowed,” Beth Ann added. “You've already seen us home once today. There's really no need to worry about us. I'm still sober enough to drive.”

Ada May downed her glass and tried to disguise a burp by coughing. She smiled up at Micah with half-closed eyes
and said, “I do love apricots.” Suddenly her head hit the desk with a thud. She was out cold.

Beth Ann shook her finger at her sleeping sister. “She's such an embarrassment. Can't hold her liquor any better than our father could.”

Micah knelt in front of Beth Ann. “Would you like me to help you get her home? I won't mind. I'm already here.”

“You're a fine man.” Beth Ann nodded, almost falling out of her chair. “I may need some assistance. Ada May is no light load when she's out.”

A few minutes later, Micah pulled his car around to the back door. Randi guided Beth Ann. As the younger of the two old maids slid into the back seat, she noticed her clothes had gotten rained on and proceeded to take them off. Micah helped the hairy bartender named Frankie half carry, half drag Ada May to the car. Beth Ann had been accurate. Ada May was no light load when she was out cold.

Micah put her into the front seat and turned to Randi, who stood across the car from him. “I'm not driving home alone with one sister out cold and the other stripping in the back seat. You've got to take pity on me.”

He must have looked helpless, because Randi shoved wet hair from her face and gave in. “All right, coward.” She glanced at the man standing in the doorway. “Frankie, close up for me, would you?”

The man nodded and disappeared.

When she looked back at Micah, she laughed. “I'll go along with you, but I got to tell you, Mr. Parker, you disappoint me. I would have thought you man enough to handle two women at the same time.”

He didn't acknowledge her humor as he held the door open. “You ride in the back with the stripper.”

She splashed through the mud and climbed in.

Halfway home, Ada May woke up enough to vomit. Twice.

Getting the sisters inside and in bed proved to be a greater chore than Micah could have imagined. Several times, he thanked Randi for coming along. He couldn't have done it without her. Ada May insisted on brushing her teeth before turning in, but she wasn't stable enough on her feet to stand. They all crowded into the tiny bathroom. Micah held her up, his arms locked just below her ample breasts. Randi helped her hit her mouth with the toothbrush.

By the time they finished, Randi and he were both laughing so hard, Micah couldn't catch his breath. They collapsed on a worn couch in the small cluttered living room.

“You think you had a problem with Ada May.” Randi slugged him with one of the dozen pillows surrounding them. “You should have tried to get Beth Ann's support hose off.”

Micah surrendered. “You win. I haven't put a drunk to bed since my college days, and if I don't do it again in this lifetime it will be too soon.” He stood and offered his hand to help her up. They walked out the front door and onto an equally cluttered porch.

Two lawn chairs had been pushed close with a TV tray table in between them. An old, handmade backgammon board rested open on the table. Randi picked up a piece of the game. “Ada May told me tonight that the last thing they do every night is play one game. Whoever loses has to turn out the lights. Sometimes they argue over who won.” Randi stared at Micah. “On those nights, the lights stay on till morning.”

She tossed the chip to him. He placed it back on the
board. “Stubborn women,” he said more to himself than her.

“That's why it surprises me they were so shaken by what happened today.”

He had no answer. For a few minutes they both watched a car pass down the rain-swollen street.

Randi took a long breath. “I love the rain.” She held her hand out to touch a tiny waterfall sliding off the roof.

Micah raised his hand, almost touching her hair. Moisture sparkled in it like silver glitter.

She glanced at him with eyes the green of a dense forest. “What?”

“Your hair gets even curlier when it's damp.” He hadn't meant to touch it, but the mass was so beautiful, all shiny with red and brown highlights. He let the tips of his fingers brush one curl.

“It's natural.” She winked. “All over.”

Micah turned his face to the rain. She'd done it again, he thought. Treating him like just any person—like just any man. It felt good and frightening at the same time. Since he'd buried Amy, he thought of himself as a father, a minister, a friend. He'd set all other definitions aside. Now, to be accepted for being nothing more than simply human overwhelmed him. He felt free somehow.

Randi elbowed him. “How about I clean up their place a little? No one wants to wake up with a hangover and have to face all the empty bottles sitting around.”

“I'll help.”

“No way.” She spread her hand out across his chest stopping him from following her. “I think you should find a hose and wash out your car before you take me home. It's too far a drive to hold my breath.”

Micah glanced out in the rain. “I'll get wet.”

“I'm not riding back with that smell.”

“I'll get wet,” he repeated.

Randi patted his shoulder. “You'll dry.” Then, without warning, she shoved him into the rain.

Micah stumbled off the porch, laughing. He told himself he wasn't attracted to her or any woman, but it felt great to have someone touch him. Just touch him. Not friendly handshakes or polite hugs, but an honest touch.

He dug around in the flower beds until he found the garden hose rolled up neatly beside a rosebush. He did his best to avoid stepping on any of the rosebushes. Everyone in town knew how the sisters loved their roses.

Turning the water on full force, he dragged the hose to his car and pulled out the mats. He hardly noticed the rain. He couldn't remember how long it had been since he'd been so alive. Maybe it was the excitement of this morning, or the way Randi talked to him, or maybe it was just time to start living again. He didn't know. He didn't care. It just felt good.

By the time he got the hose rolled back up in the mud beside the rosebush, Randi stood on the porch ready to go. He motioned for her to climb in and was surprised at how she walked slowly to the car and turned her face to the rain, as if it didn't bother her at all.

When she closed her door, he said, “You really do like the rain.”

Randi shrugged. “I've been rained on a lot. It doesn't scare me anymore.”

They drove back to the bar in silence. He thought about what she'd said, and what she hadn't said.

The parking lot was dark when they got to the bar. The sisters' van was the only one out front. Micah didn't want this strange time to end, but had no idea what to say. He knew he wasn't likely to see Randi again after tonight.

“You want to come in for breakfast?” She lifted the
doorknob. “I always eat when the night's over, then I can sleep until noon without waking up starving.”

He hadn't had a bite since before the committee meeting that morning. “I'd love to, if you don't mind? But I warn you, I'm starving.”

“I asked, didn't I? I think I can fill you up.”

They walked to the back door. She reached above the frame. “Frankie kept locking himself out and we didn't want to leave the door unlocked, so he installed a latch above the door. Lights flash in the kitchen and my office when this back door swings.” She led him down a hallway lined with boxes and mops to a tiny kitchen.

“Of course, I lock it when I head upstairs for the night. We figure only a tall drunk could reach the latch, providing they knew about it.”

He wondered if she often told her secrets so easily. Looking around the kitchen he tried to understand her. The kitchen appeared to have been added to the bar in the fifties. Nothing had been updated. The counters were red linoleum, stained and worn through in a few places. Pots and knives hung on the wall behind a stove. The refrigerator clanked out a steady beat. The place was spotless.