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An Excerpt from Calamity Jayne
“Where is he?” I shouted, almost an accusation. “Where’s Peyton Palmer?”
“Probably at home in bed asleep like most normal folks,” Townsend replied.
I stared at the trunk of the car. “I don’t understand. He was there. All twisted up and grotesque looking, just staring at me.” I grabbed Townsend’s flashlight and examined every nook and cranny of the trunk. “This can’t be. He was right here. Under a gray tarp. And he was dead as a doornail. I know dead when I see it. And he was most definitely DOA.”
Townsend took the flashlight from me. “I’m sorry, Tressa, but you can see, there’s nothing there.”
“The money!” I grabbed the flashlight again and hurried to the front seat. “There was a ton of money in an envelope in the glove box, Townsend. Ten grand easy.” I opened the glove box. “It was right here in a manila envelope.” I put a hand in the glove compartment and pulled it back out. I pointed the flashlight at the palm of my hand, illuminating a handful of Trojans. I stared at the little squares trying to make sense of the incomprehensible. What were prophylactics doing in my glove box?
Above me Townsend coughed, and I closed my fist. “It’s nice to see in some areas of your life, you come prepared,” he remarked, a grin in his voice.
“Those are not mine! I’ve never seen them before!”
Townsend clicked his teeth. “Obviously, I was wrong about your Saturday nights, Calamity,” he said.
“Go to the devil, Townsend!” I yelled frustrated that nothing was going the way it was supposed to. First, a dead body gets up and walks away when nobody is looking. Then I lose about a zillion dollars in cash, and in its place I find rubbers for a partner I don’t even have.
I waited for the ridicule to begin, the laughter, the ‘dur, dur, durring’ to start, but to my utter amazement Townsend never said a word. Instead, he pulled me into his arms and whispered reassuring little nonsense words that meant nothing and everything.
I tried to process the radical change. This was a side of Rick Townsend I’d never seen. A soft, vulnerable side. A sensitive, caring side. A sexy as all-get-out side. I sniffled against his shirt. He smelled good. A rugged combination of outdoors, fresh country air, and man. My heart began to make those little pitter-patter beats against my rib cage again, but this time the fear I felt was very different from my fright of earlier. Confusion cluttered my thought processes. This was my childhood nemesis. The big H. The man who had made my adolescence intolerable. The boy who repeatedly asked me when I was going to grow boobs, once over the public address system at homecoming festivities. This was the man who had set me up to meet my high school heartthrob, Tommy Dawson, only to present me with Louie, ‘The Stick’, Parker. The man who coined the nickname ‘Calamity’ for general use. No. No, I couldn’t have any tender feelings for the man who stole my bathing suit top at the church youth mixer. None. Zip. Zilch. Zero.
Shock, I reminded myself. Just shock. I moved away from Townsend.
Townsend’s big hands cupped my shoulders and his thumbs made a circular motion that eased none of the stiffness out of my cardboard cutout stance. “You’ve had a helluva night, Calamity,” he said, still close enough for me to feel his warm breath on my face.
“I don’t understand any of this. I’m not crazy. I saw what I saw. I’m not crazy.” I repeated that part just in case he’d missed it the first time around.
“The mind can play tricks on us, Tressa,” Rick said, a tender edge to his voice that was so out of character that it was hard to believe it was coming from him, and even more unlikely, directed at me. “It could happen to anyone.”
Yeah, right. Well, then why didn’t it? Ever?
“I think I should know what I saw in my own trunk, for crying out loud. Give me a break.”
Townsend sighed. A real loud sigh. A sigh that said, ‘what am I gonna do with you?’ That kind of sigh. He put a hand to the side of my face and stroked my cheek, his touch ever so soft and gentle. My lip quivered. I looked up at him, but couldn’t see his face, which was probably a good thing considering he thought I was a craven little coward who had dark, deserted road-induced hallucinations.
“Listen, Tressa, I have something to tell you,” Townsend said. “It’s very important and you really need to hear it. This can’t wait.”
My breath caught at the serious tone of his voice. What could he have to tell me that was so vital, so crucial, I had to hear it now, in the middle of this personal crisis? I bit my lip and held my breath.
“Tressa?” Townsend now had both paws on either side of my face. I could feel my heart putt-putt-puttering like Uncle Frank’s ancient outboard. I ran my tongue over lips as dry as our farm pond had been during the drought of ninety-seven.
“Yes?” I squeaked.
“This is not your car.”
