Chapter 10 #3
“The summer book list we sent home has ideas for making reading fun,” the familiar voice said. “And it’s perfectly fine for
you and your husband to read to him so he can learn to enjoy books instead of seeing them as threatening.”
“Sometimes it’s hard to find the time.”
“We can always find time for what’s important.”
“You’re right.” Logan’s mother gave an embarrassed laugh. “I’ll do better. Have a good summer, Ms. G.”
“You, too.”
A woman with her hair pulled up in a pink butterfly clip wheeled her cart past the end of the aisle. She could only be Logan’s mother. Dancy didn’t recognize her, but she knew who the other voice belonged to. Ms. Gates was Erin from the Walmart parking lot.
Erin came around the corner carrying a basket with a few items inside. She wore a blue cotton sundress with big pockets and
white sandals that tied at her ankles. Even though Dancy was masked, Erin must have recognized her because she took a quick
step back.
Dancy understood public humiliation all too well, and she turned to study a display of cake mixes, pretending not to see her.
Erin must be a teacher, obviously a respected member of the community, and running into the person who’d seen her at her worst
could only be incredibly painful.
But Erin had to be made of stronger stuff because, instead of retreating, she came toward Dancy. “It’s Jessie, isn’t it?”
Dancy remembered she’d introduced herself as Jessie, one of the boxcar children. She nodded.
Erin offered a troubled smile. “I was hoping I’d never see you again.”
“I understand.” Dancy returned the cake mix she’d picked from the shelf.
“Waterfront Park is in the next block. Do you have time to talk?”
Dancy was taken aback. As much as she didn’t want more involvement in Erin’s troubles, she couldn’t bring herself to refuse.
“Sure. Give me ten minutes.”
Erin nodded. “I’ll bring coffee.”
Dancy made the rest of her purchases, stuffed everything that would fit into her backpack, and hung the rest in two plastic
bags on her handlebars. She knew she should rent a car, except that would involve handing over a credit card with her name.
Waterfront Park had a playground, half a dozen picnic tables, and a stand of trees providing glimpses of the lake.
Erin sat on a bench near a red-roofed gazebo.
Dancy slipped the bike into a rack where she could keep an eye on her groceries and walked reluctantly across the path to join her.
On the way, she took off her mask. Erin recognizing her didn’t pose much of a threat of exposure, not after what Dancy had witnessed.
Erin handed her a takeout cup. “I don’t know how you like your coffee, so I brought sugar and creamer.”
“Thanks. Black is fine.” Dancy sat down next to her.
Rows of white daisies decorated the hem of Erin’s blue sundress. Her earrings, each a tiny crayon box, peeked through her
light brown pixie cut. With her round cheeks and hazel eyes, she defined the word “wholesome.” She tucked her feet under the
bench and studied the ground in front of her. “Women in caretaking professions sometimes forget to take care of themselves,”
she said, gazing into the distance, the coffee cup curled in her hands. “If anyone finds out how he treated me . . .”
Dancy admired how forthright she was. “They won’t find out from me. I don’t know who you are.”
“Erin Gates, principal of Lake Isabella Elementary School.” She extended the cup in a mocking toast. “How’s that for laying
all my cards on the table?”
“Brave but maybe not too smart. You don’t know anything about me.” Dancy took a sip of her own coffee.
“I know you’re kind.” Two preschoolers ran onto the playground beyond the gazebo. Erin watched as they climbed on a blue-and-red
play dome. “You were with Clint Garrett. I don’t follow football, but even I recognized him, and everyone knows he has a house
around here, although people try to respect his privacy.”
“I’m sure he appreciates it.”
They sipped their coffee, neither of them speaking, but Dancy didn’t exactly feel ill at ease. Erin projected both sincerity
and a quiet intelligence. She was the kind of woman Dancy would have wanted as a friend during her marriage if traveling with
Roth and putting him first hadn’t made maintaining her own friendships impossible.
Erin brushed aside her fringe of bangs. “Shane is seven years younger than I am. He has some growing up to do, but so much
promise.”
“You don’t have to explain.”
“I want to.” Erin gazed at her. “It’s odd. Now you know more about my private life than any of my friends.”
“You’re putting a lot of trust in a stranger.”
“Is it misplaced?”
Dancy thought about it. “No. I guess not.”
Erin nodded slowly. “That’s what I thought.
” She toyed with a silver Claddagh ring on her right hand.
“It wasn’t always like what you saw. Shane is brilliant.
He’s a writer. A novelist. It was exciting being with someone so passionate about his work, and he looked at me like I was the only woman in the world.
We’d go out on the lake together and have deep conversations.
He’d really listen when I talked. He’s never had much money.
He supports his writing with gig work—taking care of summer people’s houses, web design, some photography—but he was always bringing me little gifts.
Daffodils, my favorite chocolate, a nice bottle of wine.
He made a keychain with a photo of us together.
Wrote poems just for me. It was exciting being with someone younger who was that into me.
And the sex was amazing.” She rubbed her lips together, as if she were smoothing out lipstick.
“He could be condescending if I didn’t know who some literary author was or an obscure jazz musician, but he’d back off when I called him on it.
Everything was good. Right up until last winter. ”
“Then it changed.”
She nodded. “The more rejections Shane got for his novel, the more short-tempered he became. He didn’t like all the evening
events I had at school. Wanted me with him instead of going out with my friends. When I tried to talk to him about it, he’d
turn his frustration on me, saying I wasn’t being supportive, acting as if I was somehow standing between him and success.”
One of the preschoolers tumbled from the climbing dome and began to cry. Erin started to get up, then stopped herself as the
child’s mother rushed over. “I knew it was a classic case of transference, and I don’t believe in giving up on people, so
I kept making excuses for him, but the more excuses I made, the worse he got.”
Dancy gave a wry smile. “I’d never judge another woman’s stupidity when it comes to men.”
“Then maybe you understand.” More children dashed onto the playground. Dancy sensed that Erin would happily jump up to play
with them if she could. Instead, she tugged on one of her crayon box earrings. “The night after you dropped me off, he showed
up at my house. He minimized what he’d done and said he wanted to protect me. That he loved me more than he’d ever loved anyone
and only wanted to help me live up to my potential. I’d finally had enough and did what I should have done months ago. I told
him we were done.” She smoothed out a nonexistent wrinkle in the skirt of her sundress. “Things got . . . unpleasant.”
For the first time Dancy noticed thumb-shaped bruises on her upper arms. “Did you call the police?”
“I could never do that. My career means everything to me, and this is a small town where word travels fast.” Her forehead wrinkled. “How could anyone in the community respect an educator who let herself be treated the way he ended up treating me?”
Dancy touched her wrist. “Maybe you should put more trust in the people who know you.”
Erin tilted her head. “It seems safer to put my trust in you.”
“Me?”
“Ironic, isn’t it, that the only person who knows how bad it got is a stranger?” She gazed directly at Dancy. “A famous stranger.
Who isn’t named Jessie.”
Dancy focused on her coffee.
“I knew you looked familiar,” Erin said, “but I don’t follow much popular culture that doesn’t interest eight-year-olds, so
it took me a few days to place you. And even then . . . I talked myself out of it. What would Dancy Flynn be doing in Lake
Isabella, Wisconsin? But you were with Clint Garrett, and now that I see you again, I know I was right.”
Dancy saw no point in denial. “It’s a long story.”
“It’s your story,” Erin said firmly. “None of my business.”
After everything Erin had revealed, she deserved a little honesty. “We all have things in our life we’re not proud of,” Dancy
said. “The truth is, I’m hiding out.”
Erin nodded and sipped her coffee. “As long as you’re careful when you’re in town, Lake Isabella is a good place for that.”
Any tension that had existed between them faded, making Dancy realize how much she missed having a girlfriend. “Clint is letting
me stay at his place in a caboose he has on his property.”
“That old railcar? I’ve heard about it.”
“It’s a special place.”
“I’d love to see it.” Erin gave an embarrassed laugh. “Forget I said that. I’m being presumptuous.”
“Not at all.”
Erin smiled at her. “Your secret is safe with me. Thanks for listening.”
Dancy regarded her steadily. “For what it’s worth, I think you’re brave.”
“It took me long enough.”
“Don’t put yourself down. As you said, you’re someone who doesn’t easily give up on people.”
“It’s a good trait for an educator, but not so good when it comes to men.”
“We’re all works in progress, aren’t we?”
They smiled at each other. Dancy finished her coffee and rose from the bench. “I know this sounds strange, considering the
circumstances, but I’ve enjoyed talking to you.”
“Me, too. It’s a long time since I’ve been able to talk freely.” Erin stood. “Would you like to . . .” She stopped, ducking
her head.
Dancy regarded her quizzically. “What were you going to say?”
Erin blushed. “You’re a big celebrity, and I’m only a small-town school principal.”
“Which makes you way more useful to society than I am.”
“Hardly. I was . . . Would you like to come to my house for dinner some night? Absolutely no pressure. I’m sure you’re busy,
and—”
“I’d love to.”
“Really?”
“Really. But I’m only going to be here for a few more days.”
“How about two nights from now?”
“I’d like that.”
Erin neatly printed her address on a grocery receipt, and Dancy smiled all the way back to her bike.
Across the park, Shane Conling watched Blondie walk away. There was something familiar about her, even though he was sure
they’d never met. He seethed with resentment. Things had been good between Erin and him until she’d stuck her nose in, turning
an ordinary disagreement into something ugly and making him look like some kind of abuser. God, he hated ignorant people like
that.
Erin dropped her coffee cup in a trash bin and headed out of the park without noticing him. Usually, Erin couldn’t go anywhere
without stopping to talk to whatever kids she saw, leaving him standing around while she had an inane conversation with a
nine-year-old. But it was a price he’d been more than willing to pay because he loved her, and relationships were all about
compromise, something Erin seemed to have forgotten.
He should be writing instead of wasting his time like this worrying about her. All because Blondie couldn’t mind her own fucking
business.