Dream A Little Dream

15

"Another waste of time," Gabe said as he closed the door of his truck.

The interior was hot, and the seat belt burned Rachel's fingers as she snapped it together over the skirt of the dress she'd been reserving for a special occasion, a square-neck yellow cotton printed with black-and-orange monarch butterflies. "We only have one more name to go."

"Let's eat instead. I could use a hamburger."

"I swear you have a tapeworm. We just ate an hour ago."

"I'm hungry again. Besides, checking up on Rick Nagel's going to be an even bigger waste of time than this was. The fact that he cheated off Kristy's geography test when she was in fifth grade doesn't mean he should be a suspect."

"I trust Kristy's instincts."

Gravel crunched beneath the tires as Gabe backed out of Warren Roy's short driveway. Rachel watched him flip on the air conditioner. At the same time, he gave her a look that combined both tolerance and irritation. He thought she was on a wild-goose chase, and he was probably right. The blank expressions on the faces of the first two men they'd visited had convinced her neither one had any idea what she was talking about. Still, the Bible had to be somewhere.

Something had been nagging at her ever since she'd first seen the list, and once again, she took out the paper to study the names. Bill Keck… Frank Keegan… Phil Dennis… Kirk DeMerchant… She hadn't known any of them.

Dennis. Her gaze shot back up the list. "Phil Dennis? Is he related to Carol?"

"Her brother-in-law. Why?"

She jabbed her finger at the paper. "He was there that night."

"Then you're out of luck. I heard he moved out west a couple of years ago, so if he took your Bible, it's long gone."

"Not if he gave it to Carol."

"Why would he do that?"

"She was loyal to Dwayne. She still believes in him, and that Bible would mean a lot to her. Maybe her brother-in-law knew that and took it."

"Or maybe not."

"You could be a little more encouraging, you know."

"This is as encouraging as I get."

His attitude was irritating, but at least he was sticking by her. She studied his profile with its hard planes and blunt angles and thought about telling him a knock-knock joke so she could watch his face soften when he smiled. A lassitude stole through her, a need for him that wasn't going away. She wanted to tell him to turn his truck around and head right back up Heartache Mountain, but she couldn't do that, so she concentrated on folding the paper instead. "I want to see Carol next."

She waited for him to protest. Instead, he sighed. "You sure you don't want to get a hamburger?"

"If I eat another hamburger, I'll start to moo. Please, Gabe. Take me to Carol's house."

"I'll just bet she's another charter member of your fan club," he grumbled.

"Um." No need to tell him exactly how much Carol Dennis disliked her.

Carol lived in a white colonial tract house set on a rectangular lot fronted by two symmetrically planted young maples. Matching redwood planters filled with purple and pink petunias sat on each side of the front door, which was painted Williamsburg-blue and held a grapevine wreath decorated with yellow silk flowers. Rachel stepped ahead of Gabe and braced herself for what could only be an unpleasant interview, but before she could push the bell, the door opened and two teenage boys came out, followed by Bobby Dennis.

It had been nearly a month since she'd seen him with his mother at the grocery store, but as he caught sight of her, his face hardened with the same hostility. "What do you want?"

Gabe stiffened at her side.

"I'd like to speak with your mother," she said quickly.

He grabbed the cigarette the red-haired boy on his right had just lit, took a drag, and handed it back. "She's not here."

Rachel shuddered at the thought of Edward turning out like this. "Do you know when she'll be back?"

He shrugged, already bummed out on a life that had barely begun. "My mom don't tell me shit."

"Watch your mouth," Gabe said in a low, almost toneless voice that sent a shiver up Rachel's spine. Although he didn't do anything overtly threatening, he seemed to loom over the surly teenagers, and the Dennis boy began to study one of the petunia pots.

His red-haired friend, the one he'd taken the cigarette from, shifted nervously. "My mom and her are workin' at the pig roast today."

Gabe's lips barely moved. "You don't say."

The redhead's knobby Adam's apple wobbled in his throat. "We're goin' down there later. Do you want us to give her a message or something?"

Rachel decided to intercede before the poor kid swallowed his cigarette. "We'll find her. Thanks."

"Punks," Gabe said as they returned to the truck. The moment they were settled inside, he turned to her. "You are not going to that pig roast."

"You know, Bonner, finding this Bible is tough enough without having to drag you along every step of the way."

"The minute people set eyes on you, they're going to truss you up and stick you on the spit, right along with the pig."

"If you're going to be a wimp about it, you can just drop me off there. I'll get a ride home with Kristy."

He threw the truck into gear with a quick, irritated motion and backed out into the street. "We had that cottage all to ourselves this afternoon. Just the two of us. But are we taking advantage of it? Hell no."

"Stop acting like a horny teenager."

"I feel like a horny teenager."

"Yeah?" She smiled. "Me, too."

He stopped the truck in the middle of the street, leaned across the seat, and kissed her, a faint brush of the lips, sweet and fleeting. Ribbons of sensation unfurled inside her.

"Sure you don't want to change your mind about that pig roast?" He propped his elbow on the back of the seat and regarded her with an expression that was so mischievous it made her laugh.

"I definitely want to change my mind, but I'm not going to. Just one more stop, Gabe. I'll talk to Carol Dennis, and then we'll go back to the cottage."

"Why do I think it's not going to be that easy?" With an expression of resignation, he pointed the truck toward town.

The pig roast was being held in the athletic field attached to Memorial Park, the town's largest public space. The park itself contained green metal benches and neatly laid-out flower beds that bloomed with impatiens and marigolds. Beyond it, the athletic field baked in the midday sun with the only shade coming from the tents and canopies erected by the county's civic organizations, which used the annual pig roast to raise funds. The smell of charcoal and roasted meat permeated the air.

Almost immediately, Rachel spotted Ethan and Edward standing near a small pavilion where a bluegrass band played. Edward nibbled a cloud of pink cotton candy without taking, his eyes from the musicians, but Ethan kept glancing toward a food tent about twenty feet away. Rachel followed his eyes and spotted Kristy listening to a sandy-haired man who seemed to be doing his best to impress her.

Ethan scowled. With his blond hair glimmering in the sun, he reminded Rachel of a morose young god. It served him right, she thought, for being so shallow.

As she and Gabe moved closer, she felt the stares of the people around her. Only the Florida retirees seemed oblivious to the fact that the notorious Widow Snopes had joined their ranks.

Edward turned toward her, just as if she were wearing a maternal homing device. "Mommy!"

He ran forward, sneakers flying, cotton candy dangling from one hand, Horse from the other. His sticky mouth turned up in a wide smile. He looked so happy, so healthy. Her eyes stung.

Thank you, God.

The prayer had been automatic, but she pushed it away as Edward charged into her legs. There was no God.

"Pastor Ethan buyed me cotton candy!" Edward exclaimed, his attention focused so completely on her that he hadn't spotted Gabe, who was standing a few feet behind. "And Kristy got me a hot dog 'cause I almost cried when I saw the pig." His face fell. "I couldn't help it, Mommy. It's dead, and it had eyeball holes, and… They killed it and cooked it over the fire."

Another small loss of innocence on the path to adulthood. She wiped a ketchup smear from his cheek with her thumb. "That's why they call it a pig roast, partner."

He shook his head. "I won't ever eat a pig again."

She decided not to mention the probable contents of his hot dog.

"Kristy bought me a balloon, and it was red, but it broke, and-" Edward caught sight of Gabe and fell silent. She watched him draw Horse against his chest with the rabbit's hindquarters tucked under his chin. His withdrawal was almost palpable, and she remembered the ugly scene on the porch with the snake. Sometimes she thought she understood Gabe, but his callous behavior this morning had proven how little she knew him.

Ethan came up next to them, gave her a curt nod, then chatted with his brother, pointedly ignoring her. Apparently she wasn't the only one who felt ignored. She detected a small movement at her side and glanced down just in time to see Edward drop his cotton candy on Gabe's shoe.

Gabe jerked his foot back, but it was too late. He made an exclamation of disgust as a sticky pink mess covered the brown leather.

"It was an accident," she said quickly.

"I don't think so." He stared down at Edward, who stared at him in return. Resentment darkened her son's brown eyes, along with just enough five-year-old's cunning to tell her it hadn't been an accident at all. He'd wanted Ethan to himself, and he blamed Gabe for taking his attention.

She reached into her old cloth purse for a tissue and found the toilet paper she was using instead to save money. She withdrew a neatly folded strip and handed it to him to clean his shoe.

Ethan touched her son's hair. "You've got to be careful with that stuff, Edward."

Edward looked from Gabe to Ethan. "My name's Chip."

Ethan smiled. "Chip?"

Edward nodded at the dirt.

Rachel darted a furious glance at Gabe. She didn't know how, but somehow this was his fault. "Don't be silly. Your name is Edward, and you should be proud of it. Remember what I told you about my grandfather? That was his name."

"Edward's stupid. Nobody has that name."

Ethan gave Edward's shoulder a comforting squeeze, then regarded his brother. "The volleyball game'll be starting soon. Let's play."

"You go on," Gabe said. "Rachel and I have someone we need to see."

Ethan wasn't pleased. "I really don't think that's a good idea."

"Don't worry about it, all right?"

A muscle ticked in Ethan's jaw. She knew he wanted to lash out at her, but overt hostility wasn't in his nature. He rubbed his knuckles over the top of Edward's head. "See you later, pal."

Edward looked deeply unhappy as Ethan moved way. He had been separated from the man he idolized, and his day was spoiled.

She took his hand. "I'm afraid your cotton candy's ruined. Do you want another one?"

Gabe jammed both hands into his pockets, and his scowl made it easy to read his mind. He thought she should be punishing Edward for deliberately dropping the cotton candy instead of rewarding him, but Gabe didn't understand everything her son had been through.

"No," he whispered.

Just then Kristy came up next to them. Her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes shone with an air of excitement. "You'll never believe this, but I have a date tonight. Mike Reedy asked me to go out to dinner with him. I've known him for years, but… I can't believe I said yes." Kristy had barely gotten her news out before her brow began to furrow as uncertainty poked into her excitement. "I probably shouldn't have. I'll be so nervous I won't be able to think of a thing to say."

Before Rachel could try to reassure her, Gabe wrapped his arm around her shoulders and gave her quick hug.

"That's one of the best things about you, Kristy. Men like to talk, and you're a good listener."

"Really?"

"Mike's a great guy. The two of you'll have a good time. Just don't let him get too fresh on the first date."

Kristy stared up at him and then flushed. "As if anybody'd get fresh with me."

"Exactly the kind of attitude that can leave a woman barefoot and pregnant."

Kristy laughed, and the three of them chatted for a few more minutes before she excused herself to check out the church's white-elephant booth. Rachel noticed she'd waited until Ethan left to go over there.

"I want to go home now." Edward looked sulky and unhappy.

"Not quite yet, honey. There's someone I need to see first." She put herself between Gabe and Edward and began walking toward the concessions.

They passed the large charcoal grills the Rotary had set up to roast corn on the cob, then went by the Art Guild's popcorn concession.

"Gabe!" A thin, bushy-haired man who was soliciting funds for the Humane Society moved out from behind his table.

"Hello, Carl." Gabe walked toward him, but Rachel sensed he did it reluctantly. She and Edward followed.

Carl regarded her with curiosity but no particular hostility, so she knew he hadn't been associated with the Temple. The two men exchanged pleasantries, then Carl got to the point.

"We sure could use a vet at the shelter, Gabe. Last week we lost a two-year-old Doberman to bloat because Ted Hartley couldn't get over here in time from Brevard."

"Sorry about that, Carl, but I'm not licensed in North Carolina."

"I guess the Doberman wouldn't have cared too much about the paperwork."

Gabe shrugged. "I might not have been able to save him anyway."

"I know, but you'd have tried. We need a local vet. I always thought it was a shame you didn't come back to Salvation to practice."

Gabe deliberately changed the subject. "My drive-in's opening on Friday night. We're having fireworks and free admission. I hope you'll show up with your family."

"I'll be sure and do that."

They moved on, passing a table selling T-shirts for muscular dystrophy. The crowd jostled her, and she lost Edward's hand.

Someone bumped against her back, and she lurched into Gabe. He caught her arm as she righted herself. She glanced around, but saw nothing suspicious.

Edward stayed nearby, but he didn't take her hand again. It was as if he wanted to put as much distance as he could between Gabe and himself. Ahead, she saw a table covered with platters of baked goods, and, behind it, Carol Dennis unpacking a plate of iced brownies.

"There she is."

"I remember Carol when she was younger," Gabe said. "She was a sweet girl before she got so religious."

"Ironic, isn't it, what religion does to people?"

"I guess it's more ironic what people do to religion."

Carol looked up. Her hands stilled on the box of Saran Wrap she was holding, and Rachel saw all the old accusations form in her eyes. Rachel knew how unpleasant Carol could be and wished Edward weren't with her. At least he was lagging behind.

As she and Gabe moved nearer, Rachel decided everything about Carol was too sharp. The contrast between her pale skin and dyed black hair made her look brittle. Her cheekbones poked out at knifelike angles, her pointed chin lengthened an already long face, and her short, angular hairstyle was too severely cut to be flattering. She was thin and tense, as if all the softness had been leached out of her. Rachel remembered her sullen teenage son and felt a stab of pity for both of them.

"Hello, Carol."

"What are you doing here?"

"I needed to speak with you."

Carol glanced at Gabe, and Rachel sensed her uncertainty. She must feel compassion for him, but she wouldn't be able to forgive the way he was consorting with the enemy.

"I can't imagine what we need to talk about." Her expression grew less harsh as Edward came around from behind Rachel to stand at her side. "Hello there, Edward. Would you like a cookie? I think we have one to spare here."

She picked up a white plastic plate. Edward studied the contents, then selected a large sugar cookie dusted with red sprinkles. "Thank you."

Rachel took a deep breath and plunged in. "I'm looking for something that I think you might have."

"Oh?"

"Dwayne's Bible."

Surprise flickered across Carol's fox-sharp features, and then wariness took its place. Rachel felt a prickle of excitement.

"Why on earth would you think I'd have it?"

"Because I know you cared about Dwayne. I believe your brother-in-law took the Bible the night Dwayne was arrested and gave it to you."

"Are you accusing me of theft?"

Rachel knew she had to be careful. "No. I'm sure you took the Bible for safekeeping, and I appreciate that. But now I'd like it back."

"You're the last person who should have Dwayne's Bible."

She hesitated. "It's not for me. It's for Edward. He has nothing left that belonged to his father, and the Bible should be his." That part, at least, was true.

Rachel held her breath. Carol gazed down at Edward, whose mouth was rimmed with red sprinkles. Apparently he'd been won over by the cookie because he smiled at her.

Carol bit her lip. She didn't look at Rachel, only at Edward. "Yes. All right. I do have the Bible. The police would only have thrown it in the storage room, and I couldn't let that happen. They aren't always careful with things."

Rachel wanted to grab Gabe and spin him around until she was too dizzy to stand. Instead, she forced herself to speak calmly. "I'm grateful to you for taking care of it."

Carol spun on her. "I don't care about your gratitude. I did it for Dwayne, not for you."

"I understand." Rachel forced the words out. "I know Dwayne would have appreciated it."

Carol turned away, as if she couldn't stand being in Rachel's presence any longer.

"Maybe we could stop by your house later on." Rachel didn't want to press her too hard, but she was determined to get her hands on the Bible as soon as possible.

"No. I'll give it to Ethan."

"When will that be?"

She shouldn't have shown her eagerness because it gave Carol power over her, something she clearly liked. "I believe Monday is Ethan's day off. I'll bring it to the church office sometime Tuesday."

She couldn't stand to wait until Tuesday, and she began to protest only to have Gabe cut her off. "That'll be just fine, Carol. No hurry. I'll tell Ethan to expect you."

He caught Rachel's arm in a death grip and steered her into the crowd. "If you don't back off, you're never going to see that Bible."

She looked back to make sure Edward was following. "I can't stand that woman. She's deliberately torturing me."

"Another couple of days won't make any difference. Let's get something to eat."

"Don't you ever think about anything but your stomach?"

He slipped his thumb beneath the short sleeve of her monarch butterfly dress and stroked her upper arm. "Every once in a while other parts of my body have been known to grab my attention."

Her skin broke out in goose bumps. At the same time, she found herself wishing he felt something more lasting toward her than sexual attraction. "Are you buying?"

He looked amused. "I'm buying."

She turned her head and glanced over her shoulder. "Come on, Edward. We're going to eat."

"I'm not hungry."

"You love watermelon. I'll get you a piece."

As they walked toward the food tents, Gabe heard the boy dragging his sneakers in the dirt. When he considered how much of Rachel's meager paycheck had gone toward buying those sneakers, he wanted to tell the child to pick up his feet, but he knew he was being unreasonable, and he kept silent.

They headed toward the center of the field, where several whole pigs roasted on spits above a large pit of glowing coals. Rachel wrinkled her nose. "I think I'll have corn on the cob instead."

"I thought you country girls were immune to being sentimental about animals."

"Not me. Besides, we raised soybeans."

He'd never been much of a fan of pig roasts himself, so he didn't give her a hard time. Before long, they were sitting at one end of a long picnic table with plates of buttered corn. He'd added a hot dog and coleslaw to his own meal in an attempt to get her to eat more, but she'd refused, and now he was stuck with food he didn't want.

"You sure you wouldn't like another hot dog, Edward? I haven't touched this one."

The boy shook his head and picked at the wedge of watermelon on his plate. Ever since they'd sat down, Gabe had watched him stealing glances at the next table where a man ate with his son, who looked to be around Edward's age. Edward gazed over at them again, and Rachel noticed.

"Is that boy in day care with you, Edward? You seem to know him."

"Uh-huh. His name is Kyle." Edward looked down at his watermelon. "And my name's Chip."

Over the top of Edward's head, Rachel gave Gabe an exasperated look. At the next table, the boy named Kyle and his father picked up their empty paper plates and disposed of them in one of the trash cans. Edward watched them carefully.

After the last paper cup had disappeared, the boy turned toward his father and raised his arms. His father smiled, swung him up, and set him over his shoulders.

An expression of such naked longing crossed Edward's face that Gabe winced. It was a simple thing… A father carrying his son on his shoulders. But Edward was too heavy for Rachel to carry that way. Too heavy for a mother to carry on her shoulders, but not a father.

Pick me up, Daddy! Pick me up so I can see!

Gabe looked away.

Rachel had witnessed the entire episode, and he saw her painful reaction as she took in one more thing in her life that she couldn't control. She opened her purse to distract herself. "Edward, I think you're wearing more food than you've eaten. Let me clean you-"

Her hands grew still, then dipped inside and began to riffle through the contents. "Gabe, my wallet's gone!"

"Let me see." He took her purse and, looking inside, saw the orderly clutter of a pen, a grocery-store receipt, a folded wad of toilet paper, a small plastic action toy, and a tampon that was coming out of its wrapper. He could just guess how much she begrudged spending her precious money on tampons.

"Maybe you left it at home."

"No! It was in my purse when I gave you that tissue to wipe your shoe."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm positive." She looked stricken. "Do you remember when I fell against you? Someone bumped me hard. It must have happened then."

"How much money did you have in your wallet?"

"Forty-three dollars. Everything I had."

She looked so forsaken and bewildered that his heart turned over in his chest. He knew how strong she was, and he told himself she'd recover from this latest setback, but he also wondered how many times one human being could get knocked to her knees and keep climbing back up.

"Let me go check around over where it happened. Maybe it fell out of your purse when you were bumped and someone turned it in at one of the tables."

He could see she didn't believe that would happen. He didn't believe it himself. Her luck wasn't that good.

As they cleared their trash, Rachel tried to conceal how upset she was from Gabe. She desperately needed that forty-three dollars to make it through next week.

Edward lagged behind as they left the picnic tables. They had to pass the bake sale on their way, where Carol was still working, along with an older woman cheerfully dressed in red slacks and a short-sleeved blouse printed with red and yellow hibiscus. Rachel recognized her as the grandmother of Emily, the little girl with leukemia. Her heart sank as the woman spotted her.

"Mrs. Snopes!"

"What are you doing, Fran?" Carol frowned as the older woman shot out from behind the table and made her way to Rachel.

The woman's wooden parrot earrings bobbed as she smiled at Rachel, then turned her head toward Carol. "I've asked Mrs. Snopes to go to my daughter's house and pray over Emily."

"How could you do that?" Carol cried. "She's a charlatan."

"That's not true," Fran chided gently. "You know how desperately we need prayers. Only a miracle can save Emily."

"You won't get a miracle from her!" Carol's dark eyes bore into Rachel's, and her sharp features twisted with consternation. "Do you have any idea how much this family has suffered? How could you raise their hopes like this?"

Rachel began to deny that she'd done any such thing, but Carol wasn't finished. "How much are you charging them? I'll bet you put a big price tag on your prayers."

"I don't have any prayers," Rachel replied honestly. She took a deep breath and gazed directly at Emily's grandmother. "I'm sorry I can't help you, but I'm no longer a believer."

"As if you ever were," Carol retorted.

But Fran merely smiled and regarded Rachel with deep compassion. "If you look into your heart, Mrs. Snopes, you'll know that's not true. Don't turn your back on us. My own prayers tell me that you can help Emily."

"But I can't!"

"You won't know until you've tried. Would you just go see her?"

"No. I won't give you false hopes."

"Pull out your checkbook, Fran," Carol said. "She'll change her mind."

For a woman who was supposed to be filled with the love of God, Carol's heart seemed to hold only bitterness. In Rachel's years at the Temple, she had seen many Carols, deeply religious men and women who were so judgmental and unyielding that all the joy had been snuffed from them.

Rachel was a good biblical scholar, and she understood what had happened to people like Carol. In their theology, everyone was inherently wicked, and only by being constantly on guard against the forces of evil could there be any hope for eternal life. For those like Carol, belief became a source of unending anxiety.

She'd seen those like Fran at the Temple, too-people who shone with an inner light. It never occurred to the Frans of the world to look for wickedness in others. They were too busy dispensing love, compassion, and forgiveness.

Ironically, Dwayne had been frustrated by Christians like Fran. He believed they lacked vigilance in the fight against the devil, and he feared for their souls.

"I'm sorry," she said, her voice husky with emotion. "I'm so sorry."

Gabe stepped forward. "Ladies, you'll have to excuse us, but we need to look for Rachel's wallet. She lost it a little earlier." He nodded at them and drew her away.

Rachel was grateful. She knew he didn't understand what had happened, but, once again, he had sensed her distress and intervened.

"I didn't realize you knew Fran Thayer," he said as they passed the charcoal pit.

"Is that her last name? She didn't tell me."

"What's going on?"

She explained.

"It wouldn't hurt you to go see her granddaughter," he said when she was done.

"It would be unconscionable. I'm not a hypocrite."

For a moment she thought he would argue with her, but he didn't. Instead, he gestured toward one of the tents. "It seems to me we were over there when you got bumped. Let me ask around."

He returned a few minutes later, and even before he spoke, she knew the news wasn't good. "Maybe somebody will turn it in to the police later," he said to console her.

She forced a smile they both knew was false. "Maybe."

He brushed his knuckles gently down the side of her jaw. "Let's go on back to the cottage. I think we've all had enough for today."

She nodded, and the three of them set off.

As they moved away, Russ Scudder stepped out from behind the lemonade concession. He waited until they had disappeared then pulled Rachel's wallet from inside the empty popcorn box he'd been carrying around and removed the money.

Forty-three dollars. Too bad there wasn't more. He stared at the wrinkled bills, tossed the wallet into the nearest trash can, then wandered toward the table the Humane Society had set up.

Earlier, Carl Painter had been asking people for donations, but Russ ignored the container decorated with a picture of a sad-eyed dog. Instead, he slipped the forty-three dollars into the plastic cylinder that sat next to it, the one marked Emily's Fund.