Dovetail: A Novel(78)
“What?” he asked. Normally, she’d be as tempting as cheese spread on a cracker, but he had no time or patience for her right now. “Oh, yeah, I’m here by myself.” He kept his eyes on the swaying crowd. The disco ball overhead cast beams of light in kaleidoscopic patterns around the room.
“Want to dance?”
“No. I don’t want to dance.”
“Okay,” she said, an edge to her voice. “Be that way. I’ll just leave you alone, then.”
He watched her walk away, her hips purposefully swaying. Man, that was one fine piece of ass. Downright bodacious in a way Kathleen never could be. He faltered for an instant, considered going after the young woman, and then held himself back. Girls like that were side dishes. There would be time for that down the road. Tonight, he had to focus. He was there for one reason and one reason only. To get his wife back.
If only Kathleen knew all the sacrifices he’d made for her. Someday she would. He’d tell her how heroic he’d been once they were back together. He’d gone above and beyond what the average man would do, that much was sure. His story would go down the line to future generations. A family legend of undying love and devotion.
He peered around the hall and got Kathleen and Joe back in his sights, watching as they talked from the sideline chairs for what seemed like forever. Eventually, they got up and danced again, then sat and talked some more. When the wheelchair duo came rolling in front of them, Joe jumped up and said something to the woman, then knelt and made some adjustment to the wheels, all the while talking to the boy in the chair. In response, the kid flapped his hands excitedly. Standing up, Joe brushed his hands against his pants and made a gesture as if to say that was as good as it got. The woman nodded and continued on.
Idiot. What a do-gooder.
When Joe and Kathleen got up an hour later and headed for the exit, Ricky followed, slipping through the door only minutes behind them.
CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
1916
John steered the buckboard down the drive toward the barn. Mr. Wilson, one of the men who brought his grain to the mill, was there to greet them. He grabbed the horse’s halter and pulled, lining the wagon up alongside some others, then told John, who was helping Alice and Pearl down off the seat, “I will handle this, John.” He nodded toward a paddock where a few other horses grazed while their owners socialized. “Just take the ladies inside and have a good time. I’ll make sure your mare joins the others.”
“Thank you, Mr. Wilson.” He doffed his brimmed hat toward the older man.
“We came too early, John,” Pearl grumbled as she walked across the gravel, clutching John’s arm. She’d noticed John crooking an elbow for Alice and took it upon herself to take hold of his other side. “There’s hardly anyone here.” Pearl kicked at the gravel in annoyance.
“It was my idea to leave so early,” Alice reminded her. “I wanted to have a full evening, with not a minute wasted.”
“I know, but I just hate being one of the first to arrive. It makes me look too eager.”
Alice laughed. “You are such a funny girl, Pearl. I’m so glad you’re my sister.”
Pearl frowned. “And I do wish we had long white gloves, and I would give anything to have a fan like real ladies do when they go to dances.”
“We will have a grand time even without gloves and fans,” Alice said cheerfully. “Besides, this is the Barn Dance, not some high-society event. No one expects us to be dressed to the nines.”
At the door, a plump elderly woman sold John their tickets and laid out the rules for the evening. “No liquor is allowed on the premises, and young people will be expected to conduct themselves as ladies and gentlemen. Couples who are dancing must have a respectable space between them. Scandalous behavior will not be tolerated, and young ladies will be escorted home if there is even a hint of impropriety.”
“Yes, ma’am,” John said.
Once inside, all of them paused to survey the room. From the outside, the barn had looked like any other barn, but inside, it had been transformed into a place of wonder. Tables arranged around the edge of the room were covered with linen tablecloths and adorned with flowers in glass vases. Kerosene lanterns sat on shelves along the outside walls and hung overhead between large swaths of sheer, colorful fabric. On one side of the room, a long table held several punch bowls and plates of desserts: cakes and pies and cookies of every kind. A band was busily setting up chairs and music stands on a low stage at the far end. The hardwood floor had been polished to a high sheen. A few other early arrivals—including Edna, Mrs. Donohue, and Howie—stood clustered near one of the punch bowls.
“The decorations are so pretty. This is even better than last year,” Pearl said, forgetting to be crabby.
“I have a feeling it’s going to be the best Barn Dance yet,” Alice said, looking up at John with a shy smile. She’d let go of his arm, self-conscious at the sight of Mrs. Donohue, who stared at them over her glasses. Alice stood tall, doing her best to look proper. She knew even one minor mistake could lead to the evening being cut short. Young ladies will be escorted home if there is even a hint of impropriety.
This, she knew, was not just talk. Being sent home would be scandalous and the talk of the town for years to come. The residents of Pullman had long memories and not much else to talk about.