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Authors: Cheryel Hutton

Tags: #Fantasy, #Paranormal

The Ugly Truth (6 page)

BOOK: The Ugly Truth
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There were also two guitarists, one of whom played banjo for a couple of pieces, and a fiddler. They all sang at one time or another, even the whistler. The music the band played was fun and relaxing. Healing, Mrs. Clark said. I could believe it. A deep, painful rip in my soul, one that I didn’t even know was there, began to close in response to the sweet sounds coming from the temporary stage.

A glance toward Madison told me my friend wasn’t so relaxed. Her shoulders were too high and close to her ears, and her posture was tense. Most telling were the covert glances Maddie pretended she wasn’t shooting over her shoulder.

Even before I looked, I knew Jake was there.

He sat at the very edge of the crowd, tapping his foot to the rhythm of the music. As I watched, his gaze slowly slid to meet mine. He smiled, and I thought my heart was going to jump right out of my chest and race over to him. But then he turned back to watching the performers.

An almost overwhelming urge to go back and sit with him danced inside me. He was alone, and the people around me all had strong ties to each other. They probably wouldn’t even notice my absence.

Then I looked toward Madison, and the expression of pain pulling at my friend’s face tore away any thoughts of leaving her. It wouldn’t be right. I still had no idea why Maddie and Jake seemed to care about and hate each other simultaneously, but I wasn’t about to be disloyal to a friend just because I had the hots for a guy. How low would that be?

As low as a mother choosing a man over her children?

Shaking my head, I fought to clear away memories of my mother. I wasn’t her. I was nothing like her.

I squeezed Madison’s arm, and she smiled weakly toward me. I sighed, leaned back, and tried to focus on the show. It was nice here, sitting in a lawn chair on the grass and listening to music while the evening breeze rustled the leaves and relieved the damp heat of the day. Wistful sadness deep inside my heart confused me, until I realized to my surprise I was homesick. It had been a very long time since I’d even thought about Alabama, much less missed the place. Yeah, I thought about my little brother a lot, mostly with self-reproach. But think about the place where I grew up? Never.

I was now, though. Surrounded by the trees, the fresh air, music in the park. I found myself smiling at the memories—and wondering if I was losing my mind.

Before I could sink too deeply into the mire of mental distress, a deep, jarring sound pulled me back into the present. I glanced toward the band, but they were between numbers. Actually, the band members frowned and glanced around as if they too were confused about the source of the low-pitched rumble.

The crowd was muttering. I scanned the area, but saw nothing that could explain the odd noise. I’d lived in D.C. long enough that the thought of terrorists shot into my brain without hesitation. One glance at Maddie told me she was thinking the same thing. She opened her mouth, and I knew she was about to suggest we get the hell away from the current ground zero.

“UFO!”

I jerked around to look toward the kid who’d yelled. Of course my mind went to the obvious: missiles, bombs on airplanes, bio weapons dropped from the sky.

Then I looked up.

It was mostly a circular, and very bright, orange light, but behind the glow I could see the outline of what looked like a flattened beach ball. It was hard to see specifics, though; I kept having to look away. It was rather like trying to look at the sun, look a little too long and your eyes felt like they’d explode.

My camera was in my hand without conscious thought. I clicked away for a moment, then exchanged the digital for my trusty thirty-five millimeter single lens reflex. Not only might the film catch something the pixels didn’t, there would be a negative for proof. I even had enough time to fit a filter over the lens before the light/object zipped away toward the distant mountains. As I watched, whatever had visited the festival disappeared up and over the top of the highest peak.

“Holy crap,” Maddie muttered.

I nodded. My sentiments exactly.

Only slowly did I realize the high pitched sound was gone, replaced by an almost unearthly quiet. Little by little the murmur of voices began to grow louder. I looked at Maddie, and she looked at me, wide-eyed and just a bit pale. She turned to speak to her mother and I found myself looking back over my shoulder. Jake looked right at me.

His gaze met mine, and he mouthed, “Whoa.”

I nodded, and he smiled. My heart leaped, and other parts of my body warmed and softened. The man was just too freaking good looking for my own good.

Then he looked away, and I turned back to the front. Music was again filling the air, and I leaned back and tried to relax. I noticed, though, I wasn’t the only one who kept glancing upward. Apparently, a UFO wasn’t usual even in Ugly Creek.

Thank goodness.

Chapter 5

“Why don’t you come with me? It’ll be fun, I promise.”

“To a cheerleader brunch? Are you serious?”

Madison sighed. “Are you going to hold this cheerleader thing against me for the rest of my life?”

“Of course. What kind of friend do you think I am?” I shoved a bite of bagel into my mouth, and ignored the cute doggie eyes and the sweet pouty lip she was giving me.

“Well fine, if you want to walk around town in nine thousand degree heat, it’s not my concern.”

I shrugged. “The stores have air conditioning.”

She narrowed her perfectly lined, shadowed and mascaraed eyes. “You’re going shopping without me. That’s the plan. You rat.”

I shrugged. “This way, I don’t have to sit through a cheerleader brunch, and you don’t have to slug through thrift stores and flea markets.”

She leaned her head to one side and chewed a shiny coral lip in thought. “Okay. I give. I’ll meet you at The Café for lunch.”

“Lunch? Aren’t you going to a brunch?”

“Yeah, so?”

“Isn’t brunch supposed to take the place of both breakfast and lunch?”

She rolled her eyes. “It’s a bunch of ex-cheerleaders. They’ll be nothing on that table but celery, grapes, and bottled water.”

Ah, so Maddie’s astonishing metabolism strikes again. “Fine with me. Which café?”


The
Café, that’s the name.”

“Why am I not surprised?”

Maddie chuckled. “Because you’re from Crooked Tree Hollow.”

I shuddered. “Please don’t say that name. Rumor has it if you say it three times, you’ll be whisked away to Main Street, in front of the county courthouse.”

A gentle hand touched my arm. “Steph, I know you don’t like to talk about your past, but if you hold all that pain and anger inside it’s just going to fester.”

I glared at her. “What do you know about it? You with your perfect cheerleader life.”

She didn’t even blink. “I know you’re in a lot of pain, and I wish you’d let somebody in. You can’t handle everything by yourself, Stephanova, no matter what you think.”

She turned toward the counter and poured herself a second cup of coffee.

Did she really have to bring up my hometown? Did she have to remind me of all those awful memories, of the hell I’d grown up in? I wanted to lash out at her, to scream, to tell her she had no business telling me I needed to talk about things I seriously just wanted to forget?

Except I’d said similar to her. And I was afraid, very afraid, she might just be right. I really needed to change the subject.

“So, your mom must get up at the crack of dawn.” Though we’d crawled out of bed fairly early, she’d already left for work.

Maddie nodded. “She’s very devoted to her job. She’s been the secretary for Mantuck, Conner, and Holmes for so long they couldn’t get by without her. The lawyers think they’re in charge, but she’s the one who actually runs the place.”

I smiled with vicarious pride, but that didn’t stop a trickle of envy from moving down my spine. What would it be like to be proud of a mother you loved, who loved and protected you? I swallowed back the pain. I was truly happy for Maddie. And Lord knows she’d had her share of pain. “Your mom seems like a really special person.”

“She is.” Maddie shoved in the last bite of her bagel and sucked down the rest of her coffee. “Ready?”

I drained my cup. “Let’s go.”

Twenty minutes later Madison was on her way to a cheerleader function and I was stranded in the middle of a small Southern town armed with nothing more than my purse, two cameras, and a major case of curiosity. Taking a long breath of the fresh, fume-free air, I looked around.

It was like taking a long jump back in time. A narrow street with sidewalks on either side separated opposing walls of one and two story buildings. Some were red brick, some wooden exteriors. The still operational Roberts Drug Store on one corner looked like it had been there for years, but for the most part what had once been a busy little town now seemed one step away from becoming an empty façade for a Depression-era movie. Many of the buildings were long deserted, but several were occupied by businesses the structure obviously hadn’t been designed for. To me, it looked like downtown was experiencing revitalization. I hoped so.

One block from the drug store was a building that obviously was once a grocery store but which now held the Out Of The Blue Flea Market. A bank building was the current home of a tiny local television station. A generic gray building with a wide white awning was Holder’s Bail Bonds. Then there were the pink exteriored Brilliance Beauty Salon and an old feed store—there was an old sign on the side—the Re-Treat Thrift Store. All plain, all functional, all saturated with the feel of history.

Thomas’s Furniture was fancier. The red brick building had a green awning, and the door and window shutters were cream and green. Nicely done. I got a picture of it as something tickled in the back of my brain.

Wait a minute,
Thomas
. That was Henry’s store.

Getting across the road was easy, there were very few cars traveling down Main Street. I pulled open the door and walked into a small, typically laid out furniture story. Couches, chairs, tables, lamps, were all arranged in rough living room configurations. The colors were mostly basic, with a few old lady prints to round things out. The styles tended toward classic and seemed to be sturdy, well made pieces. I was impressed.

“Hi, I’m Ronny; could I interest you in a sofa today? There’s a special offer this month: buy a sofa, get a free coffee table.”

Ronny was in his late teens to early twenties, nice suit, tie, dark hair, big eyes, big smile. I kinda felt sorry for him. Poor guy, thinks he’s got a live one on the hook, and I’m not even a minnow.

I gave him my best heartbreaker smile. “Actually, I’m wondering if Henry might be here.”

I gotta hand it to Ronny; his smile wavered but didn’t vanish. “He’s in the back. I’ll get him.” He waved his hand. “Feel free to look around.”

Sure I was free to look around. Free to find something that would make somebody—Ronny—a commission. I felt that twinge of guilt again.

“Stephie, it’s good to see you.”

I smiled at the sound. “It’s good to see you too, Henry.”

He hugged me, and I felt myself stiffen for a moment in surprise. I recovered pretty fast though, and hugged him back. I liked this man. Maddie could do worse for a step.

Henry let me go and moved back a bit, still smiling warmly. “So what brings you to my place?”

“I was walking around town and saw your sign.” I shrugged. “I wanted to check out your store.”

He raised one eyebrow. “Just wandering around town, huh?”

“I was avoiding a cheerleader brunch.”

His lips twitched. “Well, I can understand that. Would you like a cup of coffee?”

“I’d love one.”

He motioned toward the back, and I sat at a small table in a tiny break room. He handed me a Styrofoam cup with a wonderful smell coming from it, and I sipped at some truly delicious coffee.

Ronny stuck his head in the door. “Henry, unless you need me for something I’m going to run that bedroom suite out to the Holsoms.”

“Ronny, come here and meet Stephie. She’s a friend of Madison’s, all the way from Washington, D.C.”

“Nice to meet you, Stephie.”

He had a firm, businesslike handshake. I was impressed. Henry apparently knew how to choose employees. “Nice to meet you too, Ronny.”

He grinned at me for a moment, then seemed to shake himself and turned toward Henry. “I’d better get that delivery made.”

“Tell Barbara I said hi.”

“Will do.” Ronny grinned my way and then headed out the door.

“He’s a good kid,” Henry said.

“He seems like it.”

“I hope you enjoyed yourself last night.”

“I did. The dancers were adorable. Women of the Hills is an amazing group, and that young singer was incredible.”

Henry’s lips twitched again. “And what did you think of the UFO?”

“Unexpected.” I bit my lip to keep from smiling. “Does that sort of thing happen often around here?”

“No, but there’ve been sightings since the Seventies.”

“Do you believe it might be a hoax?”

He chuckled as he leaned back. “Aliens, natural phenomena, or hoax, it sure makes life more interesting.”

“Ever see a Bigfoot?”

For a man who had no problems with UFOs, he sure got his face bunched up in a hurry over the mention of a furry critter. All of a sudden he felt the need to go for more coffee.

“No, can’t say I have,” he said with his back to me.

When he turned back around, there was a smile on his face, though the creases at the corners of his eyes seemed more pronounced. “Would you like another cup?”

“I’m fine thanks. Actually, I think I need to get going. I have more exploring I want to do before the cheerleaders finish whatever weird stuff cheer-types do at brunches.” A shudder flew through my body.

Henry chuckled. “I never trusted ‘em much myself.”

“Me either,” I told him. “I preferred the guys who hung out in the library.”

“I know what you mean. Back in high school, I spent many lunch hours in the library discussing science, science fiction, and whatever else crossed our minds.”

BOOK: The Ugly Truth
8.81Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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