Red’s Hot Honky-Tonk Bar (12 page)

R
ed was standing at a long bar. A very long bar. She couldn’t see the end of it. But then, she was focused on the beer spigot. She was drawing glass after glass of golden draft. Pull down the lever. Watch the mug fill. Set it on the counter. Grab another glass. Pull down the lever. Watch the mug fill.

A buzzing jerked her momentarily awake. She was dreaming. And it was the very worst kind. Dreaming about working always made her wake up tired.

She wanted to dream about something else. Something bright and sunny. Maybe something with Cam’s arms around her. That thought had her smiling languidly.

The buzzer went off again and she realized that it hadn’t been in her dream; it was someone at the front door. Her first thought was to just ignore it. Then it occurred to her that it might be Cam. If so, the kids would normally open the door. Maybe they were asleep, too. Or more likely playing in the backyard.

Groaning, she rolled over to where she could reach the window shade. She pulled it back slightly and peeked out.
Standing on her porch was a skinny, buttoned-down old lady in beige slacks, tailored blouse and Gucci loafers.

“Real-estate agent or neighborhood petition?” Red wondered under her breath.

She was not in the mood.

“Go away!”

The woman startled at the response. Red quickly let the shade drop.

She should have just kept quiet. She knew that. She’d spent way too many years living over the bar. In more civil localities you weren’t supposed to yell at people on the porch.

The buzzing began again, this time more insistently.

“Oh cripes!” Red complained as she pulled the pillow over her head to drown out the noise.

Mentally she went through the list of who this person might be and what good reasons there could be for getting up and opening the door.

Could it be someone from the school? No, not on Saturday morning. Anyone from the military would be in uniform. No, it was undoubtedly a do-gooder or a door-to-door saleslady. Red was certain that no person she had any need to talk to would show up on the porch. It was one of the frustrating realities of working late nights. Most of the world assumed that if they are awake, you should be too.

She stayed right where she was and ignored the buzzer. Eventually she heard unhappy footsteps retreating to the curb. Red stretched. She wanted to go back to sleep, but she was completely awake now.

The idea of coffee began to sound good to her, so she rolled out of bed and headed for the kitchen.

The morning sun shone through the windows, giving the room a glow that was surprisingly welcoming. Red didn’t
like mornings, but one like this could win almost anybody over.

The quiet of the place felt unfamiliar. Red found the rattling of the spoon against the coffee can to be like a clanging bell in the silent house.

Hadn’t her home been silent for years?

It wasn’t silent these days. Olivia was constantly haranguing her about something. And even Daniel was more verbal these days, constantly chattering to his sister in Spanish, though he’d yet to say even one word directly to Red.

She poured the water through the coffeemaker and waited.

The kitchen could be correctly described as a mess. The sticky evidence of toaster waffles for breakfast was everywhere. Red avoided sitting at the table, which had pancake syrup dribbled in several places. Instead, she stood at the kitchen sink, gazing out into the backyard.

Olivia was jumping rope. She was apparently trying to perfect the backward crisscross, and she was doing a pretty good job.

Daniel had piled up a small pyramid of stones and was lobbing them like grenades at a paper target that he’d hung on the back fence. Red was glad to see him engaged in a very boylike activity. He was such an anxious, frightened little guy. She worried about him. She hated seeing him curl into that ball, trying to make himself disappear. But he was a likable kid and he was going to be as good-looking as his dad. Fortunately, unlike Mike, Daniel was smart and generous and thoughtful. And being raised almost exclusively among women could be a good thing.

As Red stood there watching, suddenly all hell broke loose. The woman Red had seen on her front porch came charging into the yard, waving a broom like a weapon and screaming like a banshee.

Red was out the back door like a shot, racing toward the intruder. From the corner of her eye she saw Olivia, stunned and frozen to the spot.

Daniel was not frozen. His eyes wide with terror, he was running as if all the demons in hell were after him. He grabbed on to Red’s leg as if she was a lifeline and then hid behind her.

“What the devil are you doing in my yard?” Red yelled angrily at the woman.

She continued to approach, unintimidated. She was perhaps twenty years older than Red. Her perfectly coiffed updo and line-free Botoxed forehead were in sharp contrast to her angry narrowed eyes and the line of her mouth as she answered through clenched teeth.

“
Your
yard?” she said with drawn-out sarcasm. “I don’t believe so.”

“If you’re not out of here in one minute,” Red threatened, “then I’m calling the police.”

“No,
I’m
the one calling the police,” the woman countered. “That hellion of yours has been throwing stones at my birdhouses. It’s a miracle that he hasn’t killed one of the bluebirds or the little wrens.”

“There’s nothing in your backyard but sparrows,” Red informed her. “And he’s not a good enough shot to kill anything.”

“But he tried,” the woman ranted. “He’s an undisciplined child with apparently no upbringing at all. I’ve watched them over here, day after day, doing whatever they like with virtually no supervision at all. Growing up to be no better than the irresponsible people who created them. I don’t know why they allow people like you to even have children. You carelessly breed like rats and then ignore your offspring, drinking all
night and sleeping all day. You foist these wild children on the community and they end up as menaces or criminals.”

“These children are not menaces or criminals!”

The woman gave a hmmph of disdain. “Attempting to murder innocent animals certainly qualifies as being a menace.”

Beside her, Daniel was tugging frantically on Red’s nightgown. She looked down to see an expression of remorse on his face, which was awash with tears. Red couldn’t resist the need to comfort him. She dropped to her knees and pulled his shaking body into her arms. The warmth of him, the smell of his hair, the small vulnerable form against her, awakened something she hadn’t allowed herself to feel in years.

“I wouldn’t hurt a bird, Grandma,” he whispered, using the first English he’d ever spoken to her. “I threw the rocks, but I never meant to hurt a bird.”

“Of course you wouldn’t,” she told him. “And you didn’t hurt anything or anyone.” Red squeezed him tightly to her for a moment and then held him at arm’s length. “Now, can you do something for me?”

He nodded, still frightened but wanting to be brave.

“Could you go get Olivia and take her inside?” Red said. “I think this mean old witch is scaring her.”

“Okay…okay.”

Red watched as the boy grabbed his sister’s hand and ran toward the house. She turned back to the intruder. The woman was glaring at Red as if she were a cockroach that had suddenly appeared atop a white linen tablecloth. Red knew that look. She’d lived through it once before. Then, she had been cowed. Today, she was livid. She took two steps forward and jerked the broom out of the woman’s hands.

“GET OUT OF MY YARD!”

Startled, the woman stepped backward. But it wasn’t fast enough for Red. She began swatting her across the back of her Ann Taylor slacks as the woman ran toward the gate. Three, four, five times Red managed to land a blow before the yelping intruder was safe on the far side of the fence. Red threw the broom into her backyard with the last word.

“And stay out!”

Red turned and walked back to the house, filled with great satisfaction. Surprised, she felt light enough to walk on air. She was actually grinning by the time she caught sight of the kids’ noses pressed up against the glass of the kitchen window.

When she stepped inside, the kids were wide-eyed and stunned into silence.

Red self-consciously cleared her throat. She was pretty certain that this was not the way Bridge would have handled the situation. And it was undoubtedly not a good example of conflict resolution for the children. Red didn’t know how to fix that, so she didn’t try.

“Okay,” she said to Olivia and Daniel as they stared at her in awe. “I don’t think she’ll be back. Still, it’s probably a smart idea to set up any targets you’re going to throw at in the middle of the yard. We don’t want to bother our neighbors, and we certainly don’t want to accidentally hurt any animals.”

The two children nodded solemnly.

“So…uh…I think I’ll get some coffee and…ah…why don’t we clean up this kitchen?”

To her surprise, the kids jumped right into it. The three of them worked together congenially for the next twenty minutes. It took only about five of that before they were reliving the backyard encounter with much humor. Daniel retrieved their broom from the pantry closet, feigning a need to sweep the kitchen floor and then delightedly demonstrated Red’s
attack on the neighbor by bashing the chairs with it. His expression, clearly meant to convey a raving maniac, had Red and Olivia laughing until both were holding aching sides.

It was the most fun Red had had with the kids. They were smart, entertaining, resourceful and full of life. And she enjoyed every moment of being with them.

When the doorbell rang and Cam walked in, it felt like a cherry had been added to the top of a hot-fudge sundae.

“You’ll never believe what happened this morning,” Daniel blurted out as soon as Cam crossed the threshold.

Cam smiled, but somehow it didn’t seem totally genuine.

“I want to hear everything,” Cam assured him. “But first I need to talk to Red for a couple of minutes.” He turned to her. “Have you got another cup of that coffee?”

“Sure,” she answered and turned to pour him a cup.

Daniel couldn’t keep his story quiet another minute and was talking a blue streak about the backyard encounter, utilizing the broom as a prop in the demonstration.

“Hey, did you learn English last night?” Cam interrupted him. “I swear you were a Spanish speaker when I saw you yesterday.”

Daniel giggled and shrugged.

Red handed Cam his coffee. “Do you want to sit out on the patio?” she suggested.

Cam glanced through the kitchen window at the backyard and beyond.

“Maybe we should sit on the front porch,” he said.

She followed him back through the house and out the front door. The morning heat was beginning to pick up and the sun flooded the area of the wicker furniture, but Cam took a seat there anyway.

He looked good to her this morning, really good. Red was
certain that had to be in the eye of the beholder, because he’d clearly just rolled out of bed. His usually well-groomed hair had been jerked back into an untidy ponytail. He wore a T-shirt with cutoffs, and instead of cowboy boots he had on flip-flops. A stubble of beard added to the unkempt allure.

For an instant she was tempted to plant her behind right in his lap. That was where she wanted to be. But the reserve in his demeanor discouraged that.

Red sat on the swing and watched as he took a sip of coffee. Something was up. She wasn’t sure what, but it wasn’t good.

Their eyes met across the width of the porch.

“Okay, I’m listening,” she told him.

“No,” he replied. “I’m the one who’s listening. I want to hear your side of the story.”

“What story?”

“The one that got my morning off to such an abrupt start,” he answered. “Something about assaulting my aunt and ordering her off the property.”

“Your
aunt?
”

Cam nodded and took another sip of coffee before he spoke.

“I know you’re not the type to try to suck up to my relatives. Still, she’s the only family that I have, so it would be nice if you didn’t go out of your way to make her hate you.”

“That bitch is your aunt?”

“Uh…yeah,” he replied. “I’m sure I told you that my dad lived across the backyard. Phyllis Early is my father’s sister.”

“You may have mentioned something about your dad,” Red recalled. “But you never said anything about this aunt.”

He shrugged. “Or maybe you just weren’t listening,” he suggested.

Cam’s words held the sting of truth. She didn’t always listen to him. The less she knew, the easier it was to move on.

“You never told me. I’m sure of that,” she lied with conviction.

“Okay,” he said a bit too calmly. “The scoop is, my parents grew up across the backyard from each other. My grandfather put in the gate between the yards when they were children. Until today, everyone has always just gone back and forth without much fuss about it.”

Red felt the color rise in her cheeks. “I had no idea that she was your aunt,” she told him. “And she started it! But you’d probably never believe that.”

Cam raised an eyebrow. “If you say that’s the way it was, then I believe it,” he answered.

“Good. Then that’s settled.”

Red rose with the hope of making a quick retreat, but Cam wasn’t letting her off that easy.

“Sit!” he commanded, pointing to the chair.

“I am not an Irish setter.”

He nodded agreement. “
Please
sit,” he revised. “I still have a few questions.”

“Okay,” she replied, reluctantly complying.

“I don’t want to argue with you,” Cam said. “And I don’t want to second-guess you. I just need your side of this so I can figure out how to smooth things over.”

“Don’t bother on my account,” Red told him. “I don’t need anything smoothed over. The woman is a bitch and if she comes into the backyard again while I’m living here, I’ll kick her fancy-pants butt and enjoy the experience.”

Cam templed his fingers against the bridge of his nose.

“Not a hopeful start, Red,” he pointed out. “While you’re here in the neighborhood, you need to get along.
Aunt Phyl can make trouble for you, and I don’t want that to happen.”