Darling Rose Gold(62)
He glowers at me. I try to stand my ground, frown back, but feel creepy having a staring contest with Santa. I turn away. His eyes are still trained on me, even as the new group of kids climbs onto his lap.
Maybe I’m being paranoid. Maybe he’s not staring at me at all.
I glance over my shoulder to see if he might be watching someone behind me, and whom should I spot across the parking lot but the walking Gumby that is Arnie Dixon and, presumably, the creatures that spawned him. A level of rage builds within me that I have not felt since Rose Gold took the stand at my trial.
I stride across the lot toward them. Arnie sees me coming and looks scared. I stop in front of him and put my hands on my hips.
“You and your fire-loving derelict of a brother better stay away from my family,” I yell.
Arnie gawps and peers around, like I might be talking to someone else. His parents, slender, bespectacled folks who smell like cat lovers, are also caught off guard.
“Tell your little crew to feed their pyromania elsewhere. If I catch any of you on my property again, I’m calling the police.” My head pounds from shouting.
Arnie’s mom steps in, raising a soft-spoken voice. “You stay away from my sons, you crazy witch.”
I wheel around on her. “Your sons set my trash can on fire.”
A tall man grabs me by the arm and looms over all of us. “How about you leave the spectacles to Santa and let the Dixons alone?”
Tom.
He’s not the only spectator, I realize. The flurry of activity in the parking lot has more or less ground to a halt. Moon-faced dimwits wrapped in sleeping bag parkas stare at me, their faces filled with animosity. One couple hurries their little girl to the car, but the rest stay and watch with crossed arms. They want a show? Fine.
I rip my arm from Tom’s hold and raise my voice even more, flailing my arms for emphasis. I want everyone to hear me. “You’ve all been awful to me since I came back. You know nothing about my relationship with Rose Gold, how close we’ve become. And yet you’re all conspiring against me.”
The PTA moms make a show of pulling their children close. A group of high school wrestlers cracks their knuckles. I realize I am raving. Those who don’t know about the fire might think I’m a lunatic. I have a sinking feeling the town mob is going to force me to leave again when a raspy voice speaks up behind me.
“Why don’t we all let Patty enjoy her holiday, and you all can enjoy yours?”
I whirl around to find Hal Brodey, an old friend of my dad’s, gazing down at me. I haven’t seen Hal since I was a kid. He has to be pushing ninety now, but other than a wrinkled face and slightly stooped posture, he doesn’t seem much worse for wear. Hal never went out of his way to be kind to me when I was younger, so I’m not sure why he’s defending me now.
Tom stares at Hal, incredulous. “You’re going to defend her? After what she put Rose Gold through?”
Hal takes off his Chicago Bears baseball cap, then settles it back on his head. “I know what she did, Tom.” As he speaks, his eyes never leave mine. “Most of you didn’t know Patty as a kid, what she went through. I do.”
The crowd stills. My lungs feel emptied of air.
“Her daddy beat the crud out of her for years.” Hal wears a haunted expression, his mind somewhere dark. “I still remember the bruises.”
So that’s what this is about. Hal Brodey needs to clear his conscience after looking the other way while his best friend beat his kids to a pulp. I didn’t know Hal knew. I didn’t know any adults knew, besides my mom. Blood rushes to my face—I’m half horrified to relive the memories, half humiliated to have my shame shared with so many people again.
“A lot of us got the belt as kids,” someone in the crowd grumbles. “None of us grew up to be monsters. We didn’t poison our daughters or starve our sons.”
The rest of the group murmurs their agreement. Someone claps.
Hal frowns. “Well, you’ll get a goddamn gold star in heaven. Is that what you wanna hear? All I’m saying is this woman’s had a hard life, and she needs a second chance now. Maybe we should give it to her.”
Nobody says anything. I wish I could freeze this moment right here. Hardly anyone has said a kind word about me in six years. I feel a tear coming and blink it away.
Hal keeps going. “What about forgiveness? From what I remember, that’s a big part of the Good Book you all are always preaching from.”
The parking lot is quiet for a moment. I could kiss Hal Brodey square on his weathered face. This is the moment I’ve been waiting for. I glance at Rose Gold. She looks livid.
“You know, Hal,” Jenny Wetherspoon—our wet noodle of a town librarian—speaks up, “the last thing I need right now is a lecture on my faith. Forgiveness has limitations.”
Jenny’s husband, Max, steps forward. “If Patty wants a second chance, she should try a new town. The people of Deadwick have long memories.”
Max spits out the side of his sneer. I wonder whether he still keeps a handgun tucked into the waistband of his pants.
“What was she expecting, a ‘welcome back’ party?” Max continues, watching me.
The PTA moms snicker.
Jenny pretends to consider this. “She always did love a handout. Had no trouble eating our food, ‘borrowing’ our money. How much did she take from us over the years, Max?”