From a Distant Star (20 page)

I didn’t wait for a response, just walked over to the entrance. There was a regular-sized screen door and I pushed through, aware of Scout coming in behind me, right on my heels. As my eyes adjusted to the light, I did a double take when I saw that we’d walked right into a square dance. A platform on the far end of the building held an announcer bellowing into a microphone. Behind him played a live band of old guys. Fossils with instruments. The dancers were all senior citizens, the women in the poufy skirts you see sometimes on the dolls you win as carnival prizes. For the most part, the ladies were a bit thick in the middle and had tightly permed hair. The men looked somewhat better in shiny black shoes, dress pants, western-style shirts, and bolo ties.

“Whoa,” I said.

“What is it?” Scout stood next to me.

I leaned in and whispered in his ear. “This is called square dancing.”

The announcer was totally getting into it. “Circle left and promenade!” he called out, a big, cheesy smile on his face. The dancers swung around and around, all of them looking deliriously
happy like there was nothing they’d like better than to circle left and promenade.

“Square dancing is fun?” Scout said.

“They think so,” I muttered. I looked around and got the lay of the room. A wooden bar stretched along one side of the room; a bored bartender was pouring soda from a two-liter bottle into a row of plastic cups. Clustered in front of the bar were a number of tables and chairs haphazardly pushed to one side to make room for the dancers.

I dragged Scout across the room, maneuvering around the empty tables to talk to the bartender. “Is there a ladies’ room?” I asked, raising my voice and leaning forward. When he pointed to a hallway in back, I led Scout to an empty table and told him to sit down. He took the seat, the cloth bag with his pod clutched to his front. “I’ll be back in two minutes,” I said, then leaned down to whisper in his ear. “Don’t do anything until I get back. I don’t know about these people.” I shook my head. They looked harmless, but you never knew.

In the bathroom, I made full use of the stall before checking my appearance in the mirror as I was washing my hands. Not as bad as I feared. I had been perspiring, but the waterproof mascara had done its job and my hair had held up well. My naturally tan skin was advantageous for these types of conditions. Even after crying, my skin wasn’t usually blotchy. I heard the music stop and the announcer say something about taking a break.

I smoothed the front of my button-down shirt and dress pants. I’d been so careful to dress nicely so that I’d look respectable for Erickson Ryder, but now I was a hot, rumpled mess. A pair of shorts and a T-shirt were in my backpack, but I wasn’t going to change at this point. I splashed some water on my face, patted it dry, then picked up my backpack and headed out of the bathroom. A few older women were heading in as I swung the door open, and I had to step aside to let them in.

In the dancing area, the older people had shifted over to the bar side of the room, some talking in clusters while others were rearranging the tables. On the bar top, soft drinks in plastic cups were lined up for the taking.

When I reached him, Scout was still at the table, right where I’d left him, but he wasn’t alone anymore. An older couple sat on either side of him. The sight alarmed me even though a casual observer might think he was just a young guy with his doting grandparents. Scout had a cold drink in front of him, something clear and fizzy, and he was taking a sip as I walked closer. “What’s going on here?” I asked, taking the empty seat.

“This drink is called Sprite,” Scout said. “These people got it for me. It is very good. You should have some Sprite, Emma.” Now that the music was off, his normal speaking voice seemed abnormally loud. Several people looked our way. So much for trying not to attract attention.

The old guy sitting to Scout’s right stuck out his hand. “I’m Roy Atkins and this is Beverly, my wife.” He had a full head of white hair, cut short, military-style, while she had a short haircut, a bob that ended at her chin. Both he and his wife looked to be retirement age plus ten years.

I reluctantly shook his calloused hand. “I’m Emma.”

Beverly gave me a finger wave. “Would you like a soda?” she asked. “Roy will go up and get you one.”

I shook my head. “Our car is stuck in a ditch,” I said. “And we really need to figure out how to get it towed out.”

“Oh, that’s too bad.” She clucked with grandmotherly concern. “Didja take a turn too fast?”

“No, I . . .”

I didn’t get the rest of the sentence out because Scout felt compelled to speak up right at that moment. “Emma saved a deer’s life,” he said proudly. “She did not hit her.”

Absolute silence while they digested this bit of embarrassing information about my terrible driving. I couldn’t believe it. The guy who almost never talked chose this moment to take a stand and make a public announcement about my stupidity. “The deer ran right in front of the car and I didn’t have time to stop,” I explained. “I swerved to avoid it and wound up driving into a ditch.”

“Good for you, Emma!” Roy said. “A collision with a deer can do a lot of damage to a car.”

“But now we’re stuck,” I said. “Is there a garage around here? We really need a tow truck.”

“Nothing like that around here,” Roy said. “Are you kids alone?”

“I am not alone,” Scout said. “I am with Emma.”
Oh boy.

“We can pull them out, can’t we, Roy?” Beverly said, tipping her head to one side. Then she spoke right to me. “Our truck’s parked around the side and we have a hitch and a strap. It won’t take but a minute.”

I gave them a long look, trying to decide. They seemed trustworthy. I looked to Scout, hoping he’d say something either way, but he had turned his attention back to his Sprite.

Roy must have noticed my hesitancy, because he said, “Beverly and I’ve got grown kids and grandkids. All the folks here have known us our whole life.” He pushed his chair back and stood up. “You all know me. Anyone here willing to tell these kids I’m a nice old guy who wouldn’t hurt a fly?”

Voices came from around the room.

“Yeah, we know you, Roy, but we wish we didn’t!”

“He looks trustworthy, but he still owes me money.”

“I could vouch for him, but I won’t!”

There was a lot of laughter. I nudged Scout with my elbow. “What do you say, Scout. Is Roy Atkins someone we can trust?”

“Oh yes,” he said, taking a pull on his straw. “He is a very nice man. He will help us.”

After Scout was done with his Sprite, I reminded him to use the bathroom and walked him to the door. When I got back to the table, I said to Roy and Beverly, “This is really nice of you. I don’t know what we’d have done otherwise.”

“Not a problem,” he said, brushing off my thanks. “We were just about to head out soon anyway and we’re glad to help.”

Beverly placed a hand over mine and leaned in to whisper. “One of our grandsons is a little slow like your friend. It’s a really good thing you’re doing, taking him along with you.”

“He’s not as slow as he seems,” I said, not sure what else to say. “Just very innocent.”

“Oh, honey, that speaks well for him. If you ask me, the innocents are better than the rest of us,” Beverly said, not quite catching my meaning. “I always say that some people are on this earth to teach lessons and the rest of us are here to learn. I think your friend is here to teach us.” I looked at her blankly, and she continued. “Things like compassion and caring and to trust in each other. To be more childlike. We’ve all lost that childlike wonder.”

“I guess,” I said. If only she knew.

When Scout came back and the three of us got up to leave, the people in the bar shouted good-byes as we headed out the door. “A friendly group,” I observed.

“The best,” Roy said enthusiastically. “I’ve known some of these guys since grade school. We’re like brothers, only better.”

“I have a brother,” Scout said, and I practically palmed my forehead in frustration. Again, with the talking. “His name is Eric.”

“That’s great,” Roy said, leading us around the side of the building to where his truck was parked. “Are you close to your brother?”

Scout nodded, his head bobbing up and down in an exaggerated way. “Yes. He is a good brother.”

Roy’s pickup truck had a faded, red paint job, dented hubcaps, and an open cab in back. I saw the problem as soon as we approached—there wasn’t enough room in the front for all four
of us. Or even three of us. Beverly saw me stop, and said, reassuringly, “You and your friend can ride in the back. It’s perfectly safe. Our boys used to do it all the time.” I still hesitated and she added, “I’d sit back there myself, but I really can’t in this skirt.” She had a definite point.

Roy flipped down the tailgate and gave me a hand up. Scout was able to scramble in by himself. Right away, I noticed we’d be sharing the space with a large pile of something covered with a tarp. I peeked underneath to see a mound of damp wood chips; the smell almost knocked me over.

“We’ll be there in no time,” Roy said, seeing my nose wrinkle up at the smell. “And then I’ll pull your car out lickety-split. I promise you’ll be back on the road before you know it.”

He and Beverly climbed in front. When the engine started up, the vibration in the back was terrible, so I told Scout to grab onto the side. The back window had sliding glass and it was open, so I could give them directions to our car. I had to duck my head down a little bit to talk. Not ideal, but I couldn’t complain. We were being driven and the distance passed quickly. As it turned out, we’d walked a long way.

“We’re getting closer,” I said, pointing. “It’s up ahead beyond the curve.”

As we got closer, I spotted the white Grand Prix off in the distance. It was still in the ditch, but it wasn’t alone anymore. Three other cars had stopped nearby, one in the road alongside our car, and two in front of it. Several men dressed in dark-colored slacks and short-sleeved, button-down shirts stood around the car. A few stared into the windows, while two others had some kind of device they waved over the outside of the vehicle. Everything about the scene screamed federal agents. They’d found our car, but they weren’t looking in our direction just yet.

“Please just drive past,” I begged through the window opening. “Just keep going. It’s a matter of life and death.” I turned to Scout.
“Get down,” I hissed. “Don’t let them see us!” He looked puzzled, but he ducked down like I did. I grabbed the edge of the canvas tarp and yanked it over our heads.

All this time, Roy didn’t say anything, but I felt the truck come to a stop and heard a voice call out to him. “Sir? Do you live in the area?”

Under the tarp, my legs were tucked under me in an uncomfortable position, the smell of the mulch making it hard to breath. Scout had folded his body into mine, our foreheads touching, his arm slung protectively around my waist, like he sensed danger. Or maybe he just sensed my fear; my anguished thoughts and the pounding of my tell-tale heart. Luckily, Roy was as cool as a secret agent himself. His calm folksy voice didn’t give anything away.

“Beverly and I live just down the road,” he said. “Can I give you fellas a hand?”

“No, sir. We’re conducting an investigation. Is this the first time you’ve seen this car? We’re looking for the occupants, a young woman and young man, both teenagers. They might still be in the area.” A slight pinging noise, the sound of some kind of meter, accompanied his voice. What were they checking for?

Roy said, “Nope, never saw that car before now. My wife and I just came from square dance practice over at the Bar None. We’ve been there all morning. Our group is called the Senior Squares on account of we’re all senior citizens and we’re square dancers.” He chuckled. “Did the kids in the car rob a bank or something? Should I be putting out the word in the community? I’d be glad to warn people if you want.”

“No, sir, they’re just wanted for questioning in another matter.”

Roy laughed. “Too bad. We could use some excitement around here.”

Even though I knew he was playing it cool, part of me was thinking,
just go, just go, just go!
How long before one of them glanced into the back of the truck and discovered us? I had to force
myself to breathe through my terror. Scout hugged me tighter as the agent’s voice called out, “You may proceed, sir. We don’t want to hold up traffic, do we now?”

“Righty-o. Have a good day, gents.”

The truck lurched forward and I breathed a sigh of relief. Scout and I had lost a car, but at least we’d escaped being detected and arrested, so I was taking it as a win. When fifteen minutes or so had passed, I felt the truck slow and heard the sound of an automatic garage door opening. When we came to a halt, I heard Beverly’s voice call out, “It’s okay, kids. It’s safe to come out.”

I lifted my head from the tarp to see we were inside a large garage. Parked right next to us was an ancient station wagon. I knelt and brushed wood chips off the front of my clothes. So much for looking dressed-up and presentable.

Roy and Beverly got out of the truck and gave us a long look. Roy said, “Let’s go in the house and you kids can tell us what in the heck is goin’ on.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

The inside of Roy and Beverly’s house looked a lot like them—comfortable and worn. The entrance from the garage went right into a homey kitchen, complete with scuffed linoleum and gold-flecked laminate countertops. The kitchen table was covered with a red-checkered vinyl tablecloth. Roy gestured for us to have a seat and I reluctantly sunk into a chair. They’d saved us from the agents, I’d give them that, but there was no way I could tell them the truth. Even worse than that, I had no idea what we were going to do from here.

Once we were all at the table, Roy said, “Do you want to tell me what kind of trouble you kids are in?”

“I just want to go home,” Scout said miserably.

I shushed him, trying to think up a story that would work for this situation. “We haven’t done anything wrong,” I said. “I swear we haven’t broken any laws or done anything that would hurt anyone.”

“Do your parents know where you are?”