Читать книгу The Forgotten Daughter - Lauri Robinson - Страница 10

Chapter Two

“Isn’t this party swell?” Twyla asked excitedly as she and Forrest crossed the room.

“Just swell,” Josie muttered under her breath. Remembering—as if she’d been able to forget—Scooter stood beside her, she pulled up a brilliant smile. “Yes, it is,” she told her sister. “One people will long remember. Who could ever forget Babe Ruth?”

“He’s so funny,” Twyla said, using Forrest’s shoulder the same way Josie had used the chair to hold her balance as she fiddled with one and then the other shoe. “He told me every woman should love baseball for the pure fact it’s played on diamonds.”

Josie merely grinned. Babe had been saying that to women all day. She almost found an ounce of comfort knowing the shoes were hurting her sister’s feet as badly as they were hers, but didn’t. It was Twyla’s wedding day, and nothing, not even tight shoes, should dampen her enjoyment.

“I was on my way to the kitchen,” Josie told Twyla, glad for the opportunity to escape Scooter. “Want to come with me? We can get something for our heels.”

Twyla laughed as she graced her new husband with a somewhat sheepish grin. “That’s exactly what I came inside for.”

“I told her she should have bought a larger size,” Forrest said teasingly.

“It’s not the size,” Twyla insisted. “It’s the style. These were the only ones that were the same color as our dresses.”

“Lucky shoes,” Scooter drawled.

Josie twisted her neck to hide the laugh that caught in the back of her throat, but Scooter caught it. His grin, as well as the glint in his eyes, said he thought the dresses were as ugly as she did. That made her want to smile, but she wasn’t about to let him think they shared the same thoughts on anything—not one tiny iota. Josie reached over and grabbed Twyla’s free hand. “Come on. Moe has bandages in the kitchen.”

Dramatic as Twyla always was, her sister held on to Forrest’s hand as she started walking, stretching her arm out as if Josie was pulling her away from her new husband. When she finally let go of Forrest’s hand, Twyla said, “Don’t let him out of your sight, Scooter. I don’t want to have to go looking for him.”

Josie’s ability to keep her thoughts to herself momentarily disappeared. “Good heavens,” she whispered. “You’ll only be gone a minute.”

“I know,” Twyla whimpered. “But a minute away from Forrest feels like hours.”

Josie bit her lips together to keep her from pointing out that little over a month ago Twyla had been selling kisses for a dime apiece to any man who walked past the cotton candy stand at the amusement park.

She’d barely taken another step when a solid grip wrapped around her elbow.

“Actually,” Scooter said, “Josie wasn’t on her way to the kitchen. She and I were discussing something and weren’t finished.”

Dumbfounded, it took Josie a moment for her mind to kick in. “Yes, we were finished,” she said. The undercurrent of tension surrounding them could sink a ship.

Twyla and Forrest obviously sensed it, too. “Did something happen to the fireworks?” Twyla asked.

“No,” Josie and Scooter answered simultaneously.

They hadn’t broached the subject of fireworks. There had been no need. Scooter was as reliable as Father Time. He said he’d handle the fireworks, and he would, without fail or complications.

Twyla always had to dig deeper. “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” Scooter said.

“The fireworks will go off as planned,” Josie assured her. At least once a day, usually more often, for the past week Twyla had talked about how Forrest was taking her up in his plane to watch the fireworks, cooing about how romantic it would be. Josie had to admit it did sound romantic, but right now, it made her want to be sick. Probably because of the way Scooter’s hold tightened on her arm. It plainly reminded her romance would never be a part of her life. Ignoring Scooter, she said to Twyla, “It’s almost time to cut your wedding cake. I was on my way to see if the ice cream was ready.”

“Twyla and I can do that,” Forrest said, glancing between her and Scooter. “Sorry to have interrupted you.”

Josie clenched her back teeth together so hard her jaw stung. She took several deep breaths through her nose as Twyla was led off by her new husband. Once they were out of sight, she wrenched her arm free from Scooter’s hold. “That was terribly rude,” she spat out.

“So?”

“So?” she repeated, even more furious at his callous attitude. This was not the Scooter of yesteryear. The one she could have laughed with over the color of her shoes.

He shrugged, as if being rude made no difference to him in the least. “Our conversation wasn’t finished. Why’d you get yourself arrested?”

Huffing out a breath, she used the time to gather her wits. Flying off the handle would only make matters worse. If that was possible. She’d already told him more than she should have. He had the uncanny ability to get things out of her like no one else. “That is none of your business,” she said, sounding much calmer than she was. Catching a glimpse of Norma Rose on the balcony, Josie took a step in that direction. “And our conversation is finished.”

“I’ve made it my business, Josie,” he said.

The conviction in his tone made her spine shiver, but she didn’t turn around.

“There you are,” Norma Rose said, pausing in the open doorway. “We need to move a table into the center of the dance floor for the cake.” Waving a hand, she continued, “Scooter, we could use your help.”

Josie held back her opinion on that as she crossed the threshold and followed Norma Rose across the balcony. When a hand settled on the small of her back, sending fire and ice up and down her spine, she willed herself not to flinch. Half the country was watching them.

“Smile,” Scooter whispered.

“Shut up,” she replied, seething.

He laughed.

She planted a smile on her face for the onlookers while elbowing him in the ribs.

At the bottom of the steps she gladly separated herself from him, and took a spot on the sideline to keep people back while Norma Rose cleared the dance floor and gave directions as to which tables needed to be carried over. When Moe, the assistant cook, appeared, he was followed by several serving girls carrying trays of little glass bowls holding scoops of ice cream drizzled with chocolate syrup and topped with a mint leaf. Josie stepped forward to ensure he had a clear pathway to the tables. The last in line was Silas, the head cook, carrying a cake so tall he could barely see over it.

“I still can’t believe Twyla agreed to ice cream,” Moe whispered as they walked. “But Silas says it’s not the Fourth of July without ice cream.”

“Twyla’s so in love she’d eat mud pies today,” Josie replied. Silas was a bit temperamental, but Moe was always smiling and was the real one in charge of the kitchen.

Moe winked at her. “That’s how a girl should feel on her wedding day.”

Of their own accord Josie’s eyes settled on one of the two men carrying the last table to the center of the floor. She wanted to pull her eyes away from Scooter as badly as she wanted to pinch the bridge of her nose, where a headache was starting to form. “I suspect you’re right.”

“We’ll start serving the hors d’oeuvres around nine,” Moe said. “Before the fireworks start. By then people will be hungry again.”

“Sounds perfect,” Josie answered. “Thank you.”

He set down his tray and directed the girls to start unloading the bowls of ice cream onto the table. “Hurry now, the cake is coming and we don’t want things to melt.” Turning to her, he said, “You go enjoy the day, everything in the kitchen is under control.”

She hadn’t taken a step when a hand took a hold of her elbow. Stepping out of the way of the serving girls, she hissed, “You’re worse than a bad penny today.”

“Thank you,” Scooter said, leading her toward the edge of the platform.

“That wasn’t a compliment,” she said.

“I know.”

Josie bit her tongue as others gathered near. Being the center of attention had never been her way. That much hadn’t changed.

“There sure are a lot of people here,” he said.

“Yes, there are,” Josie answered, noting how others were nodding, having heard his comment. “It’s because of Babe Ruth,” she said, hoping no one noticed how Scooter held her arm. Her subtle attempts to shake off his hold hadn’t worked and anything more strenuous would be noticed. Even with the distraction as Babe Ruth approached.

The ballplayer stopped next to her father, who was in the center of the dance floor along with Forrest and Twyla. A hush came over the crowd when her father held up a hand. He made a brief speech about how he’d known Forrest his entire life and was proud to call him family, and then Babe Ruth said a few words about having flown with Forrest on the east coast and that he was honored to have attended his wedding. He also remarked on how beautiful Twyla was and that if he wasn’t already married, he’d have stolen her away from Forrest.

The crowd roared, especially when Twyla proclaimed that although Babe Ruth was famous, and handsome, she’d still have chosen Forrest, mainly for his airplane.

Josie scanned the area behind her, looking for an escape route, but didn’t have any luck. As she turned back around, Scooter’s chuckle irked her. Pretending it didn’t she asked, “You didn’t have any problems with the fireworks, did you?”

“No,” he answered. “They’re all set to go. Dac and I built a raft and anchored it out in the middle of the lake. That’s where we’ll light the fireworks.”

Scooter was a member of the volunteer fire department and took all fires or potential fires seriously. She figured it was because his father had been with the fire department until he’d lost his life battling a blaze at one of the resorts closer to town several years ago. Nodding, she said, “Twyla’s excited about them.”

“Forrest, too,” Scooter replied. “He’s going to fly over them.”

“I know,” Josie answered.

“Have you ever gone up in his airplane?” Scooter asked.

“No.”

“Afraid?”

“No.”

He chuckled again and the shine in his eyes, the one that said he’d been teasing her, made her drop some of her guard. They had been friends for years, and he was likable, when he wanted to be.

“It’s fun,” he said. “You should try it.”

“I’m sure I will, someday,” she answered. Forrest had been giving airplane rides all afternoon. Even her father had taken one and upon landing had proclaimed he was going to buy his own plane. He most likely would.

“Want to know a secret?”

She frowned and her mouth went dry as she once again brought her gaze up to meet his. “What secret? Whose secret?”

“Twyla’s,” he answered. “She asked Dac and me to set up a tent out on the island.”

“What for?”

“For her and Forrest to spend the night.”

“Tonight?”

He nodded. “She said the island is her and Forrest’s favorite place.”

Josie didn’t doubt that. All of her sisters, not just Twyla, had favorite colors, favorite places and favorite things. She didn’t. Not really. That had never bothered her before today. Once again she chalked it up to the feeling of dread inside her. Maybe it wasn’t necessarily that something was going to happen, but the fact that something had happened. In a matter of a few weeks, everything around her had changed. She was still one of four sisters, but those sisters had all moved on, moved out. Pretty soon it was just going to be her. When Norma Rose and Ty moved into the old farmhouse where they’d all lived before the resort had been built, it would be just her and her father occupying the family area of the second floor.

First Ginger had left, then after tonight, Twyla would no longer be there and soon Norma Rose would be gone—although, while Norma Rose thought no one knew, she hadn’t been sleeping in her room for weeks. She spent most nights at Ty’s cabin. One of the twenty the resort owned that lined the lakeshore.

All that could cause her to be out of sorts. After all, her father would surely notice her comings and goings a lot more in the future. Meaning she’d have to be a lot more careful. Along with making sure Scooter didn’t snitch on her.

He was frowning and looking at her curiously.

“A tent, huh?” Josie said, pretending she hadn’t been thinking about other things. She let her gaze wander around the fountain, toward the big island in the center of the lake. “We all used to play out there,” she said. “Back in the day.”

“I remember your foot being bandaged when school started one year. You’d stepped on a nail out there.”

She’d like to have said she’d forgotten about that. Some of the other kids had teased her and Scooter had put a stop to them. Trying to forget that part, she said, “My grandmother said I was going to get blood poisoning from that nail and insisted I keep my foot above my heart at all times.” Shaking her head, she admitted, “I thought she meant forever. I was afraid I’d die right at my desk when school started.”

“I’m glad that didn’t happen.” With a wink, he added, “Old Mrs. McGillicuddy would have died right alongside you. Besides being as blind as a bat, she was afraid of her own shadow.”

“Probably because you boys were so mean to her,” Josie suggested.

“Mean? We weren’t mean to her,” he said. “She was so easily frightened we couldn’t help but put a stick or two in her desk drawer. She’s the one that thought they were snakes.”

Josie almost laughed at the memories, until she recalled she was still mad at Scooter. Standing here laughing over foolish childish pranks wouldn’t—or at least shouldn’t—lessen that. “Well,” she said seriously, “Mrs. McGillicuddy was a much better teacher than Miss Jenkins.”

Scooter lifted an eyebrow before he leaned closer. “Miss Jenkins,” he whispered, “was too busy chasing after the older boys to teach anyone anything.”

For some unfathomable reason, heat stung her cheeks. It didn’t have anything to do with Miss Jenkins. She barely remembered the woman. The influenza epidemic had hit shortly after she’d taken over as teacher and school had been closed for months.

“She married Dac’s cousin,” Scooter said. “They live over by St. Cloud and have five or six kids, last I heard.”

The cheering crowd brought her attention back to the dance floor, where Twyla and Forrest were embraced in a rather heated kiss. Along with everyone else, Josie watched, and wondered. Many things had changed in her life. Teachers. The epidemic that had taken her mother, brother and grandparents away in a swoop. She’d missed them terribly at first, still mourned the losses, but not even their deaths had left her with the uncanny sense of dread she felt today.

Perhaps because she’d been too young. She was twenty-one now, an age where she understood cause and effect, and consequences.

After a roaring round of applause, girls started passing out ice cream and cake. Josie once again looked for an escape route, but people were crowding closer, vying for the next bowl. Scooter handed her one that held both cake and ice cream, and a spoon.

“Let’s move over a bit.”

She started to protest, but was cut short when someone bumped into her.

Scooter caught her bowl before it toppled. “This way,” he said.

Josie followed him a few feet, to where he stopped next to Ty and Norma Rose. She’d barely taken a bite when Norma Rose shoved another bowl in her direction.

“Hold this.” Her sister then grabbed Ty’s bowl and Scooter’s. “We have to get those tables off the dance floor.”

“Why?” Josie asked as she took the bowls Norma Rose handed her. Having waited tables plenty of times, balancing all four was easy.

“That’s why,” Norma Rose said.

Josie turned in the direction her sister pointed. Their other newly acquired brother-in-law, Brock Ness, had positioned himself behind the piano that had also been transported outside as another round of applause echoed through the air. Brock was an excellent musician and the locals had missed his performances since he’d left for Chicago.

“Once he starts playing, people will crowd the floor, tables or not,” Norma Rose said.

Ty and Scooter followed Norma Rose. Frustration filled Josie as she glanced down at the four bowls full of untouched cake and ice cream. Spying a waitress nearby now gathering empty plates, Josie wasted no time in getting rid of all four. A touch of guilt ensued, but she ignored it. Scooter, as well as Norma Rose and Ty, could get more cake and ice cream. There was plenty.

She’d made it almost to the far side of the dance floor when a familiar hold once again caught her arm.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Scooter asked.

“I have things to see to,” she said, twisting her arm.

“No, you don’t,” he said. “I heard Moe tell you everything was under control.”

“In the kitchen,” she said. “But there’s—”

“Nothing you need to see to right now.” Turning her toward him, he said, “Let’s cut a rug.”

“I don’t want to dance,” she said, spinning around. The flash of a camera bulb momentarily blinded her. Newspapermen were everywhere today, hoping to get a picture of Babe Ruth.

“Too bad,” Scooter said. “Whether you want to or not, we’re dancing.”

She truly didn’t have much of a choice. Others were pushing their way onto the dance floor, hurling her and Scooter forward with their momentum.

Brock hit the piano keys and the first notes ripped through the crowd like a buzz saw. People shouted, their hoots and hollers loud enough to frighten the seagulls from the air.

Josie stifled her protest as Scooter glided her into his arms and she allowed him to whisk her across the floor. He was an excellent dancer, especially of the Charleston. The two of them had been paired up in an impromptu dance-off a few weeks ago, which had been more fun than she’d had in ages.

The tempo of the song increased and she and Scooter held hands as they spun forward to rush through the steps of the popular dance. People bumped into her and Scooter pulled her closer before swiftly guiding her around to his other side.

“I don’t want someone to step on your toes,” he shouted above the ruckus. “Your feet have already been damaged enough from wearing those ugly green shoes.”

Josie had to laugh. “Thank you,” she shouted in return. “Your gallantry is outstanding.”

In the middle of his fast dance steps, he gave her a brief bow, which had them both laughing. Having grown up with him, she’d never felt uncomfortable around Scooter, as she’d felt around others, and she’d gone to him, on more than one occasion, when she’d needed things. Mechanical things usually. Having a car she could count on was an important aspect of her life.

They danced through the next two songs Brock played, and when, after striking the final chords as only Brock could, he stood up from behind the piano, Josie was more than a little winded.

Scooter was, as well, or at least he acted that way, and said, “Water, I need water.”

Laughing, Josie led him away from the dance floor, to where a table of nonalcoholic punch and soda was set up. She picked up a soda and drank half of it as Slim Johnson made his way to the piano. Wayne Sears, another musician they’d hired for the night, was somewhere at the resort, too. When the dance-off started, they’d need more than one. A large number of people had signed up for the contest.

Her father was beside Slim and as the musician sat down, her father once again held up a hand, drawing everyone’s attention to him. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he began, as a hush came over the crowd. “I want to thank all of you for attending this first ever Fourth of July barbecue here at Nightingale’s.” Once the applause died, he added, “It’s been so successful, we’ll have to make it a yearly event.” Finding the baseball player amid the crowd, he asked, “What do you say, Babe?”

Babe Ruth held his glass up in salute, and once again the crowd went wild.

“You’ve all met my daughter Twyla,” her father then said, “the girl who got married today, and I want to introduce you to my other daughters.”

Josie’s heart sank. He’d never publically introduced them before. Although she was proud of her father, never being in the limelight suited her. She liked being the mediocre sister. The one no one recognized. It meant she could wear britches and go barefoot when she wanted to.

Scanning the crowd, her father said, “Norma Rose, you and Ty come up here. Twyla, you and Forrest. Ginger? Where’s my baby girl? Aw, there she is. Brock, bring her up here. And Josie...?”

She wanted to slink under the table. Particularly when her father said, “Scooter, bring Josie up here, will you?”

“Come on,” Scooter said.

Scooter’s hand landed in the middle of her back. It might appear he was simply guiding her forward, but in actuality, he was shoving hard.

“Everyone’s watching,” he said, without making his lips move.

“I know,” she answered in the same manner.

“It’ll only take a minute,” he said.

The dread that had been inside her doubled. She’d always known it would happen someday, that she’d be pointed out as one of The Night’s daughters, and that it would change her life. She’d no longer be able to hide in the shadows.

She and Scooter arrived near her sisters, but the pounding of blood in her ears was too loud for her to hear what her father was saying. Something about Nightingale’s being a family business, and that this was the family. The family. Her sisters claimed they’d felt like prisoners, trapped in their bedrooms, but this was where she felt the iron bars surrounding her. Being a Nightingale had come to mean being something she wasn’t. It had given her a station in life she’d never wanted. And it was full of expectations. There were things being a Nightingale provided, but the list of things they couldn’t do was longer. Unfortunately, those were the things that made her who she was.

Eventually her father stopped talking, and the clapping and cheering slowed. Josie wasted no time in making her exit. She made it all the way to the resort building, but didn’t go up the balcony steps—there were too many people—instead she headed for the corner of the building and the side doors there.

“Good grief, do you have wings instead of feet?”

Josie hadn’t realized Scooter was still at her side. The fact he’d been pulled center stage along with her overrode any lingering anger. “I’m sorry about that.”

“About what?”

“That,” she said. “Being pointed out.”

“Your father’s proud of you, Josie, of all of his daughters. He just wanted to acknowledge that.”

“Maybe some of us don’t want to be acknowledged,” she answered, finally arriving at the side door that led to the storeroom. Josie clasped the doorknob, worried Scooter was going to start another argument. That would take more energy than she had right now. This day truly couldn’t end soon enough.

But it wasn’t Scooter’s voice that had her spinning around.