The Shadow and the Rose

  Chapter 8

  News of her ride with Tanner spread quickly.

  Joy didn’t know at first what was going on. She was working in the serving line at dinner the next night when a deep masculine voice said, “Hi, Joy,” and she looked up to see one of the star drama students, Nicholas, smiling at her across the counter.

  “Hi,” she said, baffled. She would have sworn he didn’t even know her name. “What can I get you?”

  “The meatloaf, I guess. Hey, I was wondering if you might feel like running lines with me sometime. I’ve got the lead in The Misanthrope, and I remembered how great you were in that scene from Tartuffe last year, and I thought—but only if you have time—”

  “Sure,” she said automatically. “I guess so.”

  “Great. I’ll text you.”

  That was weird. She couldn’t remember him ever speaking to her before, and now it turned out he remembered a scene she’d performed in class a year ago?

  She’d barely had time to gather her thoughts before further weirdness came her way. This time it was Grace Li, one of the BBBs­—whoops, ballet students. She gave Joy a big smile when she slid her tray over to her.

  “Hey,” she said. “The salmon, please, no hollandaise. So Joy, how’s your father these days?”

  She tensed. But Grace sounded genuinely interested.

  “Pretty well,” she said guardedly. “Chemo’s going okay, he says. Vegetable?”

  “Brussels sprouts. So will he be back next semester? English just isn’t the same without him.”

  “Probably not that soon,” said Joy, more astonished by the minute. “But thanks for asking.”

  “Sure. Listen, some of us are getting together tomorrow night in the junior girls’ dorm for a Glee marathon. You want to join us? Feel free to bring a date.”

  This was getting downright freaky. Joy started to wonder if she’d slipped into an alternate universe.

  But the solution turned out to be simple. When Joy finished her shift and joined her friends at their usual table, Maddie announced, “You are officially cool, Joy. I don’t know if you want to sit with lowly folk like us.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  William grinned. “You’re mixing with the beautiful people now. Everyone knows about you going for a ride with Tristan yesterday.”

  So that was it. The celebrity seal of approval meant that she was golden now. “Well, that makes more sense than some of my theories,” she said, as two of the most popular actresses in the drama track caught her eye and waved. “I was pretty sure my hairnet hadn’t suddenly become really flattering.”

  Clark draped an arm around her shoulders. “You’d better get used to the attention,” he said. “It’s a burden, of course, but people like you and me, we’re different. Popularity is a harsh mistress.”

  He was joking, but it was a drastic change. Kids who had never said a word to her before were coming up to her between classes and texting her during class. During her shifts at the dining hall the line became so backed up as students lingered to chat with her that her supervisor moved her off the serving line for the next three days.

  Everyone, it turned out, wanted to find out more about Tanner.

  All the guys wanted to know what his workout routine was, where he bought his clothes, how he’d caught Melisande’s eye. The girls wanted to know if he was really as sexy close up and if he and Melisande were in love. Everyone wanted to know what it was like to be one of Melisande’s protégés, and if Joy could get them an audition with her. If she’d been in any danger of having her head turned by her new popularity, it was quelled when she realized that her best quality in the eyes of her fellow students was that they thought she had an inside track to Melisande.

  It was uncomfortable knowing what she did about Melisande and trying to protect Tanner’s privacy. But it did make her all the more determined to help find a way to free him from his warped so-called guardian.

  Preparations for the Beltane festival were gearing up, and that made the next week pass quickly. The annual festival was a tradition at Ash Grove dating to the school’s founding, and one of the many legacies of Josiah Cavanaugh’s Celtic forebears. Originally it had been held on the last day of April, in accordance with ancient custom, but eventually, for the sake of convenience, it was changed to the Saturday closest to that date. The festival combined academics, in the form of performances by the students, with revelry to celebrate the beginning of spring. After a day of music, theater, and dance, which the locals and the students’ parents were encouraged to attend, the juniors and seniors gathered for the only formal dance of the year.

  That year, as a junior, Joy would be performing in the festival for the first time. She had selected a piano piece by her mother that she thought was within her own limited capabilities. As for the dance afterward, she and Maddie and Tasha had long since bought their dresses, even though they didn’t all have dates yet. Going stag didn’t carry the aura of failure that it did at some schools, so Joy wasn’t very concerned about whether she would have a date.

  She was more concerned about doing justice to her piano selection. “Are you sure you want to play something your mother arranged?” Mo asked her. “You don’t have to prove anything, you know. I’d be perfectly happy if you chose something else. Happier, if anything.”

  “No. This is what I want to do.”

  But Mo’s skepticism had worsened her doubts about how well she’d reflect on her mother. She finally gave in and asked William if he’d accompany her.

  “It’ll help disguise my shortcomings,” she said. “Please, will you?”

  “Sure, if you want,” he said easily. “What did you have in mind? Guitar? Violin?” That was another thing about William—he seemed to be able to play practically any musical instrument he picked up. Joy, who was finding it difficult enough to deal with just one, was in awe of him. William acted like it was no big deal.

  “Maybe violin, or should I say fiddle? It’s an Irish piece—I thought it would be in keeping with the Beltane theme. Kind of a reel, I guess. Very Riverdancey.”

  “Sounds like fun. Let’s give it a shot.”

  William’s accompaniment greatly improved her performance, since she could relax in the knowledge that his playing would cover up her goofs. With his talent for improvising, they only had to run through it a few times before they were both satisfied. Afterward, Joy treated him to a coffee and told him about her trip to the dam with Tanner.

  “He sounds like he’s in a rough spot,” was William’s verdict. “I hope he gets things figured out by the time he’s back on his own. But he’ll have you on his side, so he’s got that going for him.”

  “You aren’t scolding me for getting involved,” said Joy, surprised. “Maddie’s done nothing but scold me, it seems like.”

  William shrugged. “My scolding isn’t going to change the way you feel about him, is it?”

  “I’m not even entirely sure how I do feel about him,” she hedged. “I mean, other than being really attracted to him. I’m still figuring him out.”

  “Ah yes,” said William. “The enigmatic kind. That’s who all the girls go for.” But he didn’t sound bitter. “Maybe I should start hinting to everyone that I have some big dark secret in my life. I might be more successful with the ladies then.”

  “What will make you more successful with the ladies is if you start actually pursuing any of them,” Joy told him. “When’s the last time you asked anyone out? Hmm? Yeah, I thought so.”

  He grinned at her. “But you don’t understand. I can’t ask anyone out because of my deep, dark secret. It’s a curse I must bear all on my own, unless I can find that One Special Girl—”

  “Oh, shut up,” said Joy, laughing. “You’re too nice to pull off that brooding stuff.”

  He made a face. “‘Nice.’ Now that’s the real curse.”

  Joy didn’t know what to say to that. Some girls, like Maddie, really did seem more attracted to problem guys. Othe
rs probably didn’t think of William as boyfriend material because he really didn’t put himself out there; he was more likely to spend his Saturday nights jamming with other music students than out on a date. Usually he seemed content with that. But maybe as Beltane approached he was starting to think what it would be like to go to the dance alone. Maybe it would spur him to actually ask a girl out.

  As for her, she decided at that moment to ask Tanner to the Beltane dance. Probably he wouldn’t be able to come even if he wanted to, because of Melisande. But she’d ask him anyway, if he showed up again. If.

  The next Saturday afternoon he did show up again. The crowd of fans and admirers on the quad caught her eye even before she was able to find him at the center of it. “I’m afraid you’ll have to excuse me,” she heard him saying. “Joy and I have somewhere to be,” and the students, reluctant but obedient, backed off.

  This time, she noticed with amusement, his shirt was buttoned. Well, dang. It was nice that he paid attention to her comfort level, but she was going to miss the view.

  As she drew nearer she saw that the shirt was a particularly ratty one, and so were his jeans. He looked as if he was on his way to paint a house or give a dog a flea dip. When she said as much, he just looked mysterious and handed her a helmet—not his own, she was glad to see, but a spare.

  “What’s the plan for today?” she asked, keeping her voice low, as students were still lingering to watch.

  “I thought we’d drop in on some old friends of mine.”

  “I didn’t know you still had any connections around here,” she said, surprised.

  “Well, I haven’t been to see them in a while. But I’m pretty sure they’re still around. Any nice Saturday in the spring, if they’re not out on the roads, there’s only one place they’ll be.”

  That was all he’d tell her. He steered the bike out of Clay County toward Murphy, following the course of the river for a while before taking a turnoff that led up a steep hill. Joy knew that the Ninja could take the hill, so she was surprised when he pulled off the dirt road and parked the bike. “I thought we’d surprise them,” was all he said.

  The hill was so steep that Joy started to get breathless, and with her short legs she was soon lagging behind until Tan reached out to take her hand and help her keep up. It wasn’t a romantic gesture, just a companionable one, but she enjoyed the secure feeling of his hand holding hers. They passed a few houses—small weather-worn cabins, not the newer vacation homes that one found closer to the banks of the river. As they drew near the top of the hill, trees took over, and she wondered what their destination was.

  Their footsteps were almost silent on the dirt path, but a dog started to bark, and soon a big floppy-eared hound dog trotted toward them out of the trees. As he came closer, his tail began to wag, and Tanner crouched down and held out his arms. “C’mere, Duke!” he called, and the big hound joyously galumphed up to him and snuffled his hands and face.

  “I didn’t know if he’d recognize me,” he told Joy, as the dog butted him lovingly under the chin. “Good old Ducati. Bobby been treatin’ you well? Givin’ you all the steak you can eat?”

  She noticed that his natural accent was creeping back in. This was a side of him she’d never seen. “He’s a sweetheart,” she said, as the hound came to nose her and have his ears stroked. “Who does he belong to?”

  “You’ll find out in a minute,” he said, as a whistle summoned the dog away from them. “We’re almost there.”

  “There” turned out to be a clearing among the trees in front of a comfortable ranch-style house. The window boxes were filled with bright blooms, and the front door was painted a rich red. The tidiness didn’t extend to the yard, though, which was where all the activity was located. Several motorcycles in varying states of repair stood on the lawn, where different parts were laid out in readiness on old bed sheets. At least half a dozen men and women were gathered there, holding everything from tools to bottles of cold beer. Several looked up as Tan and Joy approached.

  “Well, I swannee.” A thin tanned woman in her mid-forties, wearing a pink t-shirt and denim shorts, put her hands on her hips and stared. “If it isn’t Tanner By God Lindsey. You are a sight for sore eyes! Come give Donna a hug.”

  Smiling at the effusiveness of the welcome, he did so. “Hey, Donna. Bobby. I hope it’s okay that we just dropped in.”

  Bobby, a sturdy-looking man with a short brown beard and laugh lines around his eyes, clapped him heavily on the back. He wore a billed cap, part of the good old boy uniform, and his work shirt was marked with motor oil. “’Course it’s okay, son. Always welcome. It’s been a while.” He took in Joy, hanging a couple of paces behind. “I’m Bobby Hartwell, and this is my wife, Donna. We’re old friends of Tanner here.”

  “This is Joy,” said Tanner. He didn’t elaborate. “I thought I’d see what y’all were up to, whether you have any interesting projects I could help with.”

  “Thanks, we’ve got it covered,” said one of the other men. He was closer to Tanner’s age than the others, with a buzz cut and a tight-fitting Harley-Davidson t-shirt. His girlfriend was smiling at Tanner, which may have been why he sounded so hostile—or maybe it was because he had seen the Ninja logo on their helmets. He was also taking in Tanner’s clothes, which though shabby had clearly been tailored for him, and his haircut. “Doesn’t look like you’re used to getting dirt under your nails.”

  That was true enough. One look at Tanner’s hands showed that for quite a while now he’d been more accustomed to manicures than manual labor. But he wasn’t going to be dismissed that easily.

  “That one of the ’11 Road Kings?” he asked, nodding toward the man’s bike, which was up on a jack. “I hear that model is nice, lots of power. You put many miles on her?”

  “A few,” was the grudging reply.

  “Would you say it’s worth upgrading to the new Classic? Some of the guys I’ve talked to say the 103 engine is better, especially with the mods, but I don’t know.”

  The guy was starting to thaw. “I never had any problems with the 96 myself. You shift her right, you’re not going to miss the extra power and torque.”

  “It’s all in the handling, isn’t it? Looks like you’re getting ready to bleed her brakes. Can I give you a hand?”

  “Well, sure, I guess so.” He handed Tanner a screwdriver and waited to see what he’d do with it.

  Joy was proud when he hunkered down by the bike and said calmly, “I’ll just get the cover off the rear master cylinder, if you want to be checking the front reservoir. Bobby, you got your vac pump handy?”

  She could feel everyone else relax, knowing that Tanner had passed the test. He and the others were soon deep in discussion of bleed valves, calipers, and other details that meant little to Joy. Donna took pity on her. “Would you like to come inside and get a drink, hon?” she asked. “We’ve got sodas in the kitchen, and I was about to make some lemonade.”

  “Lemonade would be fantastic,” said Joy, and followed her inside. The kitchen was small but bright with sunshine, and there was enough room at the counter for Joy to help Donna juice the lemons. Ducati, or Duke as he was called, trotted inside after them and flopped down on the linoleum with a brief sigh of contentment.

  “It’s nice to see Tanner enjoying himself,” said Joy. “I guess he hasn’t had anyone to talk motorcycles with for a while.”

  “Well, we didn’t go anywhere,” said Donna cheerfully, getting out sugar and a pitcher. “I guess he just had to try out life in the fast lane. When he left town with that Melisande woman, we were pretty worried. But it looks like he’s done just fine. I’m real pleased he’s with you now.”

  “Thank you,” she said, feeling awkward. “I don’t know if I’d say that he’s with me, though. We haven’t even known each other that long.”

  Donna raised her eyebrows. “Really now. Because Bobby and I are closer to that boy than his own parents, and for him to bring you to meet us—well, that looks to me l
ike he thinks you’re something special.”

  Joy concentrated on wringing the last bit of juice from half a lemon instead of answering. Donna gave her shoulder a reassuring pat. “It’s okay, hon,” she said. “You don’t have to say anything. It’s early days yet, you don’t know where it’s going, that’s fine. But I’ll tell you this: he’s a fine boy, and don’t let nobody tell you different. He’s been through a lot of shit—pardon my French—and it’s made him grow a hard shell, but he’s got a good heart.”

  Joy smiled at her gratefully. “I think so too,” she said. When the lemonade was ready, she took a glass outside to Tanner. He had his sleeves rolled up, grease streaks on his forearms and face, and an expression of blissful absorption. Clearly the visit was doing him good.

  When it came time for them to leave, they were seen off with hugs, slaps on the back, damp-nosed snuffles (from Duke), and what seemed like genuine regret. Joy overheard Bobby tell Tanner in a low voice, not meant for her ears, “I like your girlfriend,” and she waited for Tan to correct him, to say, “My girlfriend is a world-famous supermodel, not a short high-schooler with freckles.” But all he said was, “I like her a lot too.”

  Of course that could be taken in different ways. She still didn’t believe he was attracted to her romantically—that was probably why he felt so comfortable with her. She was probably like the sister he’d never had.

  But if she was wrong—and she knew now that she really wanted to be wrong—maybe, against all logic, he thought of her in girlfriend terms.

  Which would make her a rival with Melisande, and that was creepy for a lot of reasons.

  She needed to find out. So when were walking back down the hill to where Tan had left the Ninja, she asked, “Do you remember the Beltane dance from when you were at Ash Grove?”

  He frowned, searching his memory. “I remember the festival—kind of a day of recitals, right? But not a dance.”

  “That’s right, you would have left before you could have gone. It’s just for juniors and seniors. Kind of the Ash Grove equivalent of prom.” She took a breath. “I was wondering if you’d like to come to this year’s. With me.”

  “When is it?”

  She told him the date. It was just two weeks off. “So… are you interested?”

  He considered for a moment, then said, “Yeah, count me in. She’ll be at a shoot with Saxon that night, so I won’t have any problem getting away.”

  She couldn’t get used to his having to be accountable to Melisande. It was kind of like he was getting permission from a mother, but also partly like he was cheating on a girlfriend. It worried Joy if she thought about it too much, so she tried not to think about it, and Tanner seemed not to want to bring up the subject. And right now, she was just happy that he was going to be her date.

  “That’s great,” she said, and tried not to let her pleasure show too obviously. “I’ll go ahead and get tickets. The dance starts at eight. Usually I think everyone dresses formally, but it probably won’t be a problem if you just want to wear jacket and tie.” She was talking too much. She made herself slow down. “In case, you know, all the tuxedo rental places are out.”

  “It’s a good thing you mentioned it,” he said. “You know how I tend to underdress.” She saw that he was teasing her, and made a face at him.

  “Exhibitionist,” she retorted. “You can wear nothing but a smile if you want, and freeze when that chilly mountain air rolls in. See if I care.”

  “I am feeling a bit stifled,” he said earnestly, and made as if to pull off his shirt. “These clothes are so confining—” But he started to laugh before he could finish the sentence, and backed away as Joy aimed a swat at him.

  “Easy, woman,” he said, and put his arms around her, pinning her arms to her sides. “You’ve got some violent tendencies, you know that?” He smiled down at her.

  She didn’t answer. She was concentrating on breathing. The nearness of him brought butterflies to her stomach. Could he actually be getting more handsome? Maybe it was because she had never seen him so relaxed and contented before.

  It was like he was a different person each time they met. In the graveyard, he had been mysterious, forbidding, like a Brontë hero. At Melisande’s, he was the lazy pleasure-loving professional beauty. At the dam, he was reflective, but bitter—taking a clear look at himself and not liking what he saw.

  And now, smudged with dirt and grease, smelling of gasoline, his hair tousled, his eyes bright, he looked happier than he had since she’d known him.

  “What are you thinking about?” he asked.

  The truth popped out before she could think of an evasion. “You,” she said simply.