Chapter 12
Jake drove the store truck with one hand on the wheel and one arm around Dixie, a grin stretching from ear to ear because Alabama’s “Dixieland Delight” was on the radio. It was pretty entertaining and not coincidental in the least to hear the song that fit his life to a tee at that moment. They had packed up at the cabin that morning, gone out for a nice brunch, then returned to the big house. After a week of lollygagging, he was glad to put his muscles to good use with the unpacking. Now, it was time to get Dixie home. A part of him would rather stay put in the truck and ask the station to put the song on repeat, give him a chance to do a little turtledovin’ of his own. He touched her hair, let his hand get tangled in the same way that he was tangled up in this girl beside him. “I’m sorry it’s Sunday already, sugar. This past week went so fast. I could have never come home. Say the word and we’ll go back, just you and me, and stay there forever.”
Dixie snuggled in close, felt the tugging on her heart that she felt more and more strongly each day. She was reminded of the tidal wave she’d seen at the beginning of some old TV show, a powerful rush that could sweep her away if she let it. Had Mama felt this way with Daddy? One thing was certain, there had been no such thing with Owen. There’d been nothing with Owen. A cold shiver climbed up her spine at thought of him. It was like Old Man Wilbur had said the one day, “It felt like someone walking on my grave.” She shook it off, focused on the warm, summer day slipping into dusk and the boy sitting next to her. “I’d really like that but then there’d be no one to run the store.”
“Ah, the ever practical Miss Dixie Mason. I guess we’ll have to take a rain check.” The sky was growing dim, the sun setting in a blaze of pinks, reds, and purples of every shade as they turned into the park. They drew near Dixie’s place at the ridiculous snail’s pace of five miles per hour per Slick Nichols’ regulations. After what seemed like an eternity, they were met with a burst of activity. The “park” in the middle had been transformed into a Hawaiian getaway with tiki torches, inflatable palm trees, kiddie pools, and music. Everyone dressed for the occasion in grass skirts with Blue Hawaiians and other colorful drinks in their hands. All the tenants were milling about but cleared a path when Dixie and Jake got out of the truck.
Sue Ellen ran up and flung her arms around Dixie, followed by a huffing and puffing Thelma Louise. “You’re here, finally! We couldn’t wait for you all to get back. Welcome to the trailerhood block party being held in your honor.”
Thelma Louise laughed. “That’s right, honey. It’s not every day we have a queen here. We heard about your new title at the barn dance but that’s not the half of it. Everyone’s come to pay their respect to you after all you did the night of the tornado.”
Dixie glanced at Jake as Thelma tugged her to a large, wicker chair set by the fountain. He shrugged, wearing the grin of the cat that swallowed the canary. “I may let something slip out about last night. They did the rest. Sue Ellen has been bugging me all week about her plans for tonight. You don’t know how many times I had to bite my tongue.”
Sue Ellen placed a plastic tiara on Dixie’s head and Thelma wrapped a red throw around her shoulders. They stood on each side and Sue Ellen called out loudly, “All hail Queen Dixie and let’s not forget our fellow rescuer, King Jake.” He tried to wave them off but was given a Burger King crown and matching throw for a cloak. Everyone laughed then came forward to offer their heartfelt thanks. Dixie and Jake were pulled to their feet and swept away into a conga line that deposited them in matching chairs by the fountain. Drinks were pushed into their hands and plates of barbecue set in their laps so fast it made their heads spin.
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Owen watched from a clump of undergrowth and high weeds bordering Dixie’s new home. He had spent nearly an hour walking the dirt road in the sweltering heat, kicking up dust with every step and being eaten alive by the blackflies. He thought he would go out of his mind from the drone of the cicadas buzzing all around him.
He finally made it to Nichol’s Trailer Park at dusk. Slick Nichols, the pile of scum, had been only too happy to oblige and direct Owen to the right place. How did the manager know he wasn’t letting a fox in the hen house? A growl of laughter rumbled deep in Owen’s chest. He was the last person on earth to be trusted with the...girl. It hadn’t taken long to scout out an acceptable hiding place. He was lying on his belly, nose twitching from the weeds, skin crawling with ants, watching for any signs of life in the trailer.
Sunset arrived in a burst of glory that went unnoticed by Owen Granville, never having paid any mind to such nonsense. There was a commotion in the center of the park as people prepared for a party, decorating, building a bonfire, and firing up the grill. His mouth watered at the smell of cooking food drifting in the air. It was the perfect opportunity when everyone was occupied. Owen slid across the lawn, a silent shadow, and fiddled with the lock. The key slid in and he slipped inside. It had been all too easy to talk the manager into giving him a spare to allow a father to surprise his daughter.
Leaning against the door, he eyed the place in the dim glow of a small lamp in the living room. It was neat as a pin, a girlish place, all warm and fuzzy, friendly-like. It infuriated him to think she’d been living in this nice, little home—far better than the home she’d left—while he’d shuffled along from bad to worse. He deserved better after all of these years. He’d just have to see how she would like a house guest. She wouldn’t put up a fuss—he’d make sure of that. He searched the rooms and found one suitable hiding spot—the closet. He stepped inside, slid the door shut, and sat down on the floor to wait. He gulped down the last of his liquor with a smile. It wouldn’t be long now.