Life After Perfect Page 8

  “He’s far from perfect, Jac.”

  “Well, honey, you do live a rather wonderful life. What has you up in arms? Is it that time of the month? Or wait, are you pregnant? Are your hormones all haywire?”

  Mom looked so hopeful that for a moment, with the nausea swirling in her gut, Katherine wished she actually was. At least then she’d have something good to focus on.

  “He’s cheating on me, Mom.”

  “No. There’s some mistake.” Her mother shook her head, dismissing the idea completely. “I’m sure there’s an explanation.”

  “There is. It’s simple. He betrayed me. He’s a liar.” The letters she’d scrawled across his desk danced in her mind.

  “I’m sure it didn’t mean anything. He loves you.”

  “No. I’m pretty sure that is not the case. And how much can your husband really love you if he can be with someone else? I don’t know about you, but I draw the line there. I’m leaving him and I’m filing for divorce.”

  Mom put down her fork. “Well, where will you live? Who will get the house?”

  “And the car,” Jacqueline said.

  “Seriously? You two cannot be serious right now. Those are things. I don’t care about the things.”

  “Things make life nice. You only say they aren’t important because you’ve always had them,” her sister said.

  “And I worked my ass off for them. All I wanted was a husband who loved me, and a family. He made me wait for the family, and now I’ve wasted all this time just to find he doesn’t love me the way he should.”

  “Is this about not getting pregnant yet?”

  Jacqueline got up from the table. “Wait a second. I have what you need.” She went into the kitchen and came back with a small turquoise cosmetic bag. “Here. These will calm you down. You can go back and smooth things out. I swear. After I had Chloe, my emotions were so whacked out. It was either antidepressants or these things. They’re all natural. You’ll be fine in a few days.” Jacqueline smiled and acted like she’d just solved the whole thing with a row of homeopathic pills. “You can have the case and all.”

  Katherine unzipped the bag and dumped the assortment of bottles on the table. She sat there staring at the generic bottles of St. John’s wort, soy, and nerve tonic. Nerve tonic? It was like something out of Doc Scott’s Last Real Old Time Medicine Show.

  “Here.” She shoved the pills back toward her sister. “You keep these. There is nothing wrong with me. It’s Ron who’s screwed up. Maybe you can hook him up.”

  “Quit being so selfish, Katherine.” She swept the little bag back in front of her and meticulously placed the contents back inside before zipping it up. “It’ll sort itself out.”

  “Selfish?”

  “Yes. You live in that gorgeous house without a worry in the world. You have no right to be unhappy.”

  “And what. You do? Let me tell you that when Ron is traveling, I go out and mow the damn yard of my gorgeous house myself. I don’t ask my father to go sweat it out in ninety-degree heat. He’s got a heart condition, Jac. What the hell are you thinking? You want to talk about selfish and ungrateful. Do not even get me started.” She rested her hand on her hip, thinking it was a good thing that yellow ribbon wasn’t bigger or she just might strangle her sister with it.

  “Girls. Stop it.” Katherine’s mom reached over and held Chloe’s hand. “I will not have you fighting like this in front of Chloe. Now, Jacqueline, your sister is going through a tough time. She does not need you judging her.”

  Katherine sucked in a satisfied breath.

  “And you, Katherine, need to pull up your big girl panties, get in your car, and get your butt back home in bed with your husband. He is probably stressed out and you being on the road all the time doesn’t help. You are the wife. It is your job to make that home work.”

  Him stressed at his job? Her job was equally demanding. Maybe more so. And she wasn’t off gallivanting like a groupie after a rock band; she was traveling for work!

  Chloe looked confused. “May I be excused?”

  “Yes, honey. You go play with your dolls in the living room.” The little girl leapt from her chair and ran away like there were snapping turtles at her heels.

  “You two scared her to death. You should be ashamed of yourselves.”

  “Did you not hear the part where I said he was cheating on me?” Katherine wasn’t even sure if she’d spoken the words at an audible level. “Fidelity. Isn’t that just the minimum price of entry to a marriage?” Katherine pushed away from the table, but her mother and sister continued to eat as if she hadn’t spoken. She walked into the living room feeling completely let down. The verbal beating was almost worse than finding out Ron was a liar.

  She sat down on the carpet next to Chloe. “I’m sorry we yelled.”

  Chloe lifted her sparkling blue eyes from her Barbie dolls to meet hers. “Are you running away from home, Aunt Katherine?”

  Squeezing her tight, Katherine inhaled the sweet innocence of her. Whoever thinks children aren’t wise to what’s going on are just not paying attention. She was running away. Running away from everything—Ron, work, her sister and mom, too. Everything that was making her perfect little world feel pretty darn rotten right now.

  She only hoped this time it wouldn’t be like when she was eight and ran away to the curb, only to regret it come dinnertime and have to drag her suitcase back to the porch and ask to be let back in. Her mom and dad had stood there looking at her like they were trying to decide. It had been the most frightening thing to think they might say no. Which, of course, would never have happened, but it was one heck of a head game.

  “I love you, little angel,” Katherine said as she picked up her purse. “I’m going to be missing you.”

  “I’m already missing you.” The little princess put her hand to her mouth and blew a loud kiss, followed by an excessive amount of giggles.

  That joyous sound even temporarily lightened her broken heart. Katherine didn’t bother to say her goodbyes, just picked up her purse and left.

  She had Chloe to thank for her heading further north up I-85 tonight.

  Chapter Six

  Tonight’s meeting at the Boot Creek Volunteer Fire Department had been deemed mandatory for all members on the final preparations roster for the Blackberry Festival fundraiser. Over forty men and women mingled, most hovering in front of the industrial fans near the tall garage door of the station to catch some relief from the summer heat.

  Derek had shed his tie in his truck, and turned back the sleeves on his white dress shirt as he walked up to gather with the others.

  “Anyone heard from Justin on his honeymoon?” one of the guys was asking as Derek approached. Derek had joined the fire department at Justin’s urging; Justin had been a volunteer since back when Derek had first gone off to college.

  “Not me,” Derek said. “I bet she hid his cell phone, because I didn’t even get a text from him when the Nats beat the Braves, and you know how he loves to rub that in.”

  Someone made a whip sound, and most of the guys laughed.

  Sandy was one of three women who had joined the department over the past two years. As she walked by Derek, she said, “Mighty pretty girl Justin had you lined up with at the wedding there, Derek. Y’all made a nice-looking couple.”

  He’d already heard the same comment from his mother, and Angie, earlier in the week about the cousin of the bride. A California girl, and she looked the part. Not his type, a little too on the high-maintenance side, but she’d flown across the country alone and it’d been nice to have her company at the reception. “She’s married.”

  “Too bad,” she said.

  He could see her wheels turning. Why was it all the women he knew were worried to death about him being alone? Did he look so desperate that he needed a hookup? He’d been charming once. Laney used to say h
e was. If and when he was ever ready to let someone back into his life, he could do it.

  But there it was again. That swell in his heart, his soul, whenever love went through his mind—Laney was the only one he could picture. Probably always would be, and he was okay with that.

  A couple more people straggled in, including Derek’s dad, who only showed up at the minimum number of calls a year. But that was one thing about the volunteer fire department: Most people were willing to at least do a small part, and that’s what made it work.

  “Did I hear Sandy trying to set you up on a date?” Roger Hansen asked his son.

  “No. Still talking about the girl from Justin’s wedding. Old news.” But Derek knew his dad would run right back and tell his mom and get her hopes up. If he’d been widowed at the age of sixty, no one would think a thing of him spending the rest of his life alone; but because he was still in his thirties, people acted like he needed to be with someone to be happy. Just because he and Laney hadn’t been together for decades didn’t make their love or the loss any less.

  “Let’s call this meeting to order,” the captain said.

  The group quieted down, and each of the officers gave their reports and the committees gave updates on their progress with the various efforts the volunteers had taken on in the community.

  The captain moved to the front of the group. After thanking everyone for their reports, he said, “Okay, now that all of that is done, let’s handle the final details for the Blackberry Festival tomorrow.”

  Everyone applauded. “This is so much better than the boot drive,” someone yelled out.

  “True,” the captain said. “More work, but more return on the investment too. I appreciate you all coming together to make this so successful.”

  “We’re ready!”

  The captain said, “If we do as well as we did last year with this fundraiser, we’ll exceed our needs for this year and even be able to do a little something extra. Maybe add a couple families to the Christmas fund or do something extra at blanket drive time.”

  “We got this,” Patrick hollered like a JV cheerleader.

  Derek laughed at the new recruit’s enthusiasm.

  “All right. I’ve got everyone’s assignments for tomorrow, and a few of you had also agreed to do some things tonight. Let me know if there are any discrepancies with time or task.” The captain began calling out names, and one by one the volunteers picked up their assigned duties.

  “Game on, Hansen,” Patrick yelled from across the bay. “Who got the Turn-out Gear Challenge? That’s right. Me! You’re not hanging on to that title again, Derek! It’s mine this year.”

  Derek knew he’d be competing, since he did hold the best record in the entire company, but until now he didn’t know who he’d be facing. Clearly, if enthusiasm meant anything, he’d just met his match.

  Once everyone had a chance to review their assignments and swap or rectify any mistakes, the whole group gathered around long tables under the trees out behind the fire station for a chicken barbecue.

  After dinner, Derek headed straight over to the festival grounds. Since he had no one waiting at home for him on a Friday night, he’d offered to take on a few of the tasks so the others could spend time with their families.

  Derek parked at Justin’s place. Justin lived right on Main Street in the middle of the festival path, so it was easy for Derek to walk from there to the gazebo in the middle of town square. Tomorrow it would be the information booth. The festival had gotten that big over the last few years.

  But tonight, people picked up their assignments at the gazebo, and checked back when they’d completed them to ensure everything was done and ready to roll in the morning.

  He exchanged hellos with a couple of people he’d gone to school with, and then nodded to Ryan’s mom, who was putting bottled water in a cooler for the folks helping set things up. She looked a lot more relaxed than she had in his office.

  A nagging loneliness caught him off guard.

  The guys down at the firehouse were always trying to fix him up on dates. That was nothing new, but he hadn’t had the appetite for that kind of thing yet. Although ever since Justin’s wedding last weekend, he yearned for a little company. And although appointments like the gummy bear incident with little Ryan yesterday made him sometimes second-guess his desire, he did long to have a couple kids someday.

  Boot Creek’s Annual Blackberry Festival was held the second Saturday in June every year—rain or shine. This year was supposed to be the biggest year yet. They’d even outsold all the previous years’ ticket sales just in online preorders—and online sales was something they’d only started doing the previous year.

  Word of mouth made the festival bigger every year, but the article in Our State magazine hadn’t hurt, and when the Food Network had popped in on the Blue Skies Cafe, Ol’ Man Johnson had worked in a little plug too. That’s when the town really saw a jump.

  Derek wove between groups of people, the members alternately working and lollygagging. The streets were alive with activity. Men worked at securing tent poles, and women set up tables for their wares. Tomorrow everything from bird feeders and jewelry to pottery and quilts would fill the streets. And food incorporating blackberries any way you could dream of, and a few ways that even the best imagination wouldn’t have pictured, would be the biggest draw.

  He stood in line, waiting for his turn at the information booth. The girl in the booth had a system, and she was checking in people ahead of him and sending them on their way in a jiffy.

  “Derek Hansen checking in,” he said.

  “Hey, Derek. How have you been?”

  “Good.” He recognized her voice, but he’d be darned if he could place her face. This was when nametags would be nice.

  She scanned a long list of tasks on her clipboard. Then she pulled an index card from a box and handed him an XL t-shirt with the festival logo on it along with the card with his assignment. “Check back in with me when you’re done, please.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Her serious tone tempted him to give her a salute, but then with more than one hundred and twenty-five vendors to set up tonight, he probably shouldn’t razz her for being a little frazzled.

  And it wasn’t just locals either. This festival had become so popular across the state that vendors planned a year in advance to be among those selected to participate. That added complexity to the situation.

  Derek’s task card said that he was to set up the tables in the fire department tent area and assemble the t-shirt grids. No problem. He got right to work and it really didn’t take too long to get it set up.

  When he moved the last piece of grid wall into place, a bright-green tree frog leapt from the white plastic covering to the top of his boot, and then to the still hot cement pad.

  “You could probably use some water on this hot night, couldn’t you?” Derek poured a little from his bottle next to the frog, and darned if that little guy didn’t jump right into the middle of the puddle like a kid on a rainy day. “There you go, buddy.”

  The tiny frog’s mouth seemed to open and close like he was giving Derek a thank-you nod for the cool down.

  “Later, dude,” he said to the frog, then walked back along the festival route. He dropped off his completed task card at the booth and offered to take another.

  Someone needed help with hanging tent sides. He could handle that. It was clear at the other end of the spread, so he took his time checking out what was in place so far.

  Even in the crowds of people getting ready for the festival, in dozens of hellos from old friends and acquaintances, loneliness taunted him.

  Saturday morning, Derek drove back down to Justin’s and parked in the lot out back. He tucked his keys into his front pocket, then took the cones out of Justin’s storage building and, like Justin had asked, marked off the lot so only the residents could gain acc
ess during the festival. In just a few hours it would be in full swing and continue well into the evening.

  A giant flag with a big purple question mark now flew high above the gazebo in town square, signaling it was the place to go for answers to questions, share information, and reunite with lost children, keeping things running smoothly from start to finish.

  The place had transformed overnight. The streets were no longer filled with boxes of inventory or half-put-together stands. Even the lights that would brighten the night had been strung across the streets by the guys from the electric co-op. Why it took a week to put up the holiday lights, and only a few hours for this, he couldn’t explain, and no one else would even notice them until tonight. They had always been one of Laney’s favorite parts. The purplish lights at night. He shoved his hands in his pockets and walked on. Being here alone felt like being shortchanged.

  Today, every booth was tidy and ready for the crowd. Signs boasted bragging rights and balloons bounced in the breeze. The rainbow of colors assaulted him, with the smells not far behind—ranging from salty to sugary sweet—enough to make your mouth water and you dig into your pocket.

  Derek walked over and picked up one of the colorful, slick tri-fold brochures from the information booth. Just yesterday afternoon Boot Creek was only a small town with a few cars parked along the curbs. Today, it buzzed with nearly as much excitement as the State Fair.

  He walked up the couple of blocks to the fire department booth. All of the tables and grid displays he’d set up last night had been transformed into a nice little store selling fire-department-themed items, including wooden sculptures that the guys had been making with chain saws for the last couple of months.

  “How’s it going?” Derek asked the girls still straightening out the shirts.

  “Great.”

  “It looks good.”

  Patrick looked up from the chain saw he was working on. “Hey, Derek. Good to see you, man. Figures Justin would plan his honeymoon right through our busiest fundraising weekend. You ready for me to take your title?”