Rekindled Dreams (15 page)

She surveyed the crowd assembled before her, slowly turned to him, and mouthed the words, What do I do?

He held out his hands, palms up, and shrugged. The placards waved in front of his face, and he read, ‘Stop police brutality’, ‘Free the streets’, ‘Women walk alone’, and ‘Down
with Dwayne’. He thought their messages would have been more powerful painted in colors other than powder blue and daffodil yellow. As he pictured these women picketing in front of the police station, he chuckled. This he had to see.

Today, he would definitel
y not want to be Deputy Dwayne.

FROM FINN’S TRUCK PARKED
in the Chamber of Commerce lot, Vena stared at the growing crowd assembling across the street. A knot formed in her stomach. Along the curb facing the police station, people unfolded lawn chairs and campstools, then sat, arranging ice chests nearby. Umbrellas snapped onto the backs of chairs. Just like waiting for a parade. “I can’t believe this, Finn.”

“I warned you.” Lifting his ball cap, he ran a hand through his hair. “This is what happens in small towns.”

She turned and noticed him slouching against the door. “What should I do?” She hated being indecisive, but knew if she stood in front of that crowd, she’d become a stuttering fool.

“Remember, I’m just the driver.” He flashed a grin, but slouched lower in the seat. “Hey, you’re the writer—you’ll think of something.”

With a hesitant move, she eased open the truck door and stepped down to the gravel lot, patting the pocket of her skirt to feel her written speech. This task was not impossible—she could get through the next fifteen minutes and still live. As long as she remembered to breathe. Vena walked a few feet, taking small, hesitant steps.

“There she is.” Hazel Sims waved her sign.

“Here comes Vena,” Tootie cried out.

When she heard the voices, Vena shot a quick look over her shoulder in the direction of Finn’s truck. His cap was barely visible over the rim of the steering wheel. The big coward.

At a soft touch on her arm, she turned and gazed into her friend’s sweet face. “Hi, Auntie. Wow, this is some reception.”

“Isn’t it great?”
Tootie’s eyes glowed. “We haven’t seen this much excitement since we ran off those big-time developers wanting to build a water slide park out on Sims Creek. And that was darn near two years ago.” She grabbed Vena’s elbow and propelled her through the crowd. “Make way. Vena Fenton’s coming through.”

Vena wished she could fall through a crack in the sidewalk and disappear. How could she go through with this? Since grade school, she’d done everything possible to avoid speaking in public. In class projects, she volunteered for a greater portion of the group’s work to avoid the oral part. In college, she’d grilled friends about the content of particular courses, avoiding those that required oral presentations.

Anything and everything to keep from talking in front of a crowd.

And now, this.

Finally, Vena and Tootie reached the glass doors of the station house, and Vena turned to face the crowd. Voices lowered to a whisper, and people turned expectant gazes her way. She thought of the hints friends had suggested over the years. Defocus your gaze. Stare over their heads. Pick a spot on the back wall and focus. Imagine them in their underwear.

Nothing helped. Her stomach clenched like a vise, and she counted her breaths to keep her concentration. She pulled the speech from her pocket, unfolded the paper, and began. “F-folks, I want to
th-thank you for coming t-today. I’m s-sorry you’ve ch-changed your regular plans…” When she heard several people start whispering, she stopped. But nothing would save her—she needed to continue. “Unfortunately, there’s been a m-mistake.”

Tootie’s
picket sign drooped to the pavement. “What are you saying?”

Vena hated to disappoint Nana Gwen’s dearest friend and others she had known growing up. Perspiration beaded along her hairline and trickled behind an ear. “There’s no d-demonstration—”

The station door opened with a shrill squeak, and she heard several people gasp.

From behind, footsteps thudded to her right and pebbles scratched the sidewalk as the big man sauntered into view. Today Deputy Dwayne was dressed in full uniform, wearing both hat and sunglasses, his belt weighted down with a nightstick, handcuffs, and his service revolver. Vena noted his deliberate swagger, with thumbs hooked over his belt, like he owned the sidewalk. “Didn’t think you’d show,” he muttered, stopping three feet away.

Vena stiffened. His disparaging tone grated on her nerves, but she kept hers sweet and even. “Is there a problem, Officer?”

“I’m here to investigate. A permit is required for public gatherings of more than fifty. I’ll take a headcount.” He walked to the front of the group and, using the earpiece of his aviators to indicate each face in turn, counted aloud, “One, two, three…”

Vena noticed several people in the back row duck their heads and cross the street. After stepping up on the opposite curb, they turned and craned their necks to watch.

“…Forty-three, forty-four, forty-five. Well, looks like the permit’s not required.”

“Anything else?” Dwayne’s uniform and arrogance had scared off those people, and that just wasn’t right. After being at the man’s mercy the previous day, she refused to relinquish an ounce of power. He didn’t have the authority to censure her opinions.

“Folks, keep the sidewalk clear. We got a complaint from a business owner about his store access being blocked.” He sauntered closer to the crowd and moved along the front line. “Harvey, pull your cooler back by your chair. Miss Pearl, can you move your dog’s blanket? No obstructions to the station or businesses.”

Vena studied the crowd and recognized several of the storeowners. She doubted anyone had called to complain, more likely Dwayne cited from his infamous rulebook again. “Friends, please comply with the officer’s requests. We wouldn’t want to break any rules today and risk getting arrested.” She jabbed a thumb into the middle of her chest. “Believe me, I know how easily that can happen.”

Tootie
raised her ‘Women Walk Alone’ sign high and yelled, “You tell them, sweetie.”

“I know, because just yesterday,” Vena’s voice gained strength, “I was minding my own business, taking a walk—which I had no idea was an infraction of the laws in any American town—when this officer stopped and questioned me.”

Sounds of outrage erupted from the crowd.

“Shame on you, Dwayne Mullen.”

“What did he say to you, Vena?” Ruth Maguire prompted.

“He wanted to know who I was and ordered me to show identification. I told him to stop his joking, that he knew exactly who I was, and I tried to walk away.” She paused and surveyed the crowd. “Next thing I know, he slaps handcuffs on me, claiming I resisted arrest. Imagine, a law-abiding citizen arrested just for being a stranger in town.”

“Right on, Vena.”

“You tell him.”

The Gray Ladies’ protest signs stating ‘Down with Deputy Dwayne’ and ‘Stop Police Brutality’ bobbed up and down.

“Folks, calm down a minute,” Dwayne interrupted. “That’s not the way things happened.”

Earl Foley stepped forward. “By cracky, I told Ethel the paper was wrong. Tell us what really happened, Deputy.”

Dwayne paused, setting a belligerent stance, legs apart and arms crossed. He drew in a deep breath, bringing attention to his shiny badge, and rocked heel to toe on polished black shoes. “Yesterday at seventeen hundred fifteen hours, using my cruiser, I executed a vehicular block of the southwest exit from Primrose Alley and began investigating a report—”

“Cut the police lingo, sonny.” This gruff command came from a thin, elderly man in the front row sitting forward, a hand cupped around an ear. Clyde gave Vena a two-finger salute and a wink.

She flashed him a grin and gave him an answering wave.

Dwayne cleared his throat and hitched up his belt. “Where was I? Oh yes, Miss Fenton’s identification. I asked—”

“That’s plain stupid, Dwayne Mullen,” Miss Pennington, the retired school principal, called from the back of the crowd. “You’ve known Vena Fenton for years.”

“Besides,” Tootie spoke up, “everybody knows your Aunt Blanche called in the report.”

“I couldn’t be sure this woman was who she said she was. I was just a kid when she left town.”
His voice trailed off.

“You were not.” Vena’s temper flashed, and her fists shot to her hips. “I’m not that much older.”

“Sure you are, Vena,” Edna piped in. “Old enough to have changed his britches when he was still in diapers.”

Dwayne’s lips thinned, and red splotches crept up his neck toward his face.

“Not exactly,” Vena corrected. “I did babysit him, but when he was in elementary school. Still, he should have remembered me.”

“What about the gun?” a thin voice called out.

“Thanks for bringing that up.” Energy from the crowd’s support flowed, and she pointed in the officer’s direction. “I certainly didn’t pose a threat to you or anyone else. You never should have pulled your gun.”

The crowd jeered and booed. A wad of crumpled paper landed at the officer’s feet.

Dwayne stepped backward and raised his hands to the gathering. “Hold on, folks.”

“Yeah, why did you draw your weapon against her?”

“She’s just a little slip of a gal. Were you scared?”

After several more jeers, Vena lost track of who asked which question. The crowd was getting too agitated. Bodies edged forward, waiting for Dwayne’s answer. She investigated both sides of the crowd, gauging the best escape route.

Clearing his throat, Dwayne ran a finger along the inside of his collar. “I, uh, well…she was disregarding the law. I told her to stop and—”

People at the back of the crowd stirred. Whispers started. A path opened to let a man through to the front. He was dressed in a sport coat and an awful blue-and-green striped tie. Resting on his shoulder was a small video camera with the microphone extended forward.

The media. Just what she needed. From her right, she heard Dwayne curse.

The man stopped directly in front of Dwayne. “Officer Mullen, Grant Spengler, Mountain Independent News. I’ve been listening to the other questions and your answers. I believe mine will cut to the heart of the matter. Can you tell my viewers what went through
your mind when you apprehended the suspect? Did you perhaps have information about a criminal past that prompted you to draw your weapon?”

Criminal
? Vena cursed under her breath and fought back an immediate denial. Her body went hot all over. The reporter’s job was to discover juicy gossip. So, she had to word her answer with care.

The crowd hushed and leaned forward as one, waiting for the officer’s answer.

Oh to be back at The Shamrocks, delving into that old journal, and learning more about the newlywed Quaids and their wagon train west. For an instant, her gaze went toward Finn’s truck but a placard blocked the view.

Dwayne chuckled as he held out his hands in a staying motion. “Now, Spengler, no need to stir up the folks. I was telling these good people how this was just a little misunderstanding. The police department will be happy to talk with the judge on Miss Fenton’s behalf.”

What?
Her body stiffened. This was the first she’d heard about this. “What could you say to the judge?” Vena’s voice squeaked, and she swallowed hard. Her good name would not be smeared. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed the camera pivot in her direction. “This is a simple case of an overzealous cadet and a false arrest. I did nothing wrong yesterday, absolutely nothing.” Turning to the crowd, she continued, “I don’t believe Deputy Mullen had the right to detain me. I appreciate the support for me shown here today.”

Mr. Spengler stepped closer. “Can you tell us, Miss Fenton, what’s your reaction to the newspaper picture? Will you be suing the city for false arrest?”

What was this reporter insinuating? “No, my purpose today was to speak out in hopes of preventing this from happening to anyone else. The streets need to be safe for women to walk.” Irritation built inside her and she fought to keep her tone even. “Single women shouldn’t have to worry when they walk alone. They should feel safe—especially from the police, who are supposed to protect us all.”

“Tell it like it is, Vena.”

“Go, sister.”

“But…” The man with the camera inched closer. “Why didn’t you cooperate? Wouldn’t giving the officer an address or the name of someone who’d vouch for you have prevented your arrest?”

“Why should I have to?” Her reaction was purely knee-jerk, but this guy was too pompous. Outrage invaded, and her hands drew into fists. Her thoughts went to Finn and how she must keep his name out of this mess. That very fact had started this whole mess. Her gaze shifted across the street toward the Chamber’s lot.

The truck was still there, but the cab was empty. Her heart sank. Thinking he was close by, she’d somehow gotten this far. She’d even imagined he was sending her positive energy. But no, he’d left her to fend for herself—again.

“Miss Fenton,” Spengler urged, “what are you hiding? Let me rephrase that, who are you protecting?”

Vena gulped against a tight throat. “I…um…” No response came.

“Wasn’t your real reason for going to jail that you’re concealing an illicit affair with a member of one of Dry Creek’s founding families?”

A collective gasp emanated from the crowd. At the same moment, Vena felt the air being sucked from her lungs. All gazes turned toward her way—the demonstration against police brutality forgotten with the new, titillating information.

In the distance, a train whistled a mournful note, and Vena ached with all her heart to be on board.