Rachel Gibson - Truly Madly Yours

“Delaney.”

“What?” She stuck her key in the lock, then paused with her hand on the doorknob.

“I lied to you yesterday.” She looked over her shoulder, but she couldn’t see him.

“When?”

“When I said you could have been anyone. I would know you with my eyes closed.” His deep voice carried across the darkness more intimate than a whisper when he added, “I would know you, Delaney.” Then the squeak of hinges followed by the click of a dead bolt and Delaney knew he was gone.

She leaned over the railing, but the door was closed like Nick had never been there. His words were swallowed in the night like he’d never spoken them.

Once inside her apartment, Delaney kicked off her shoes and popped a Lean Cuisine into the microwave. She turned on the television and tried to watch the local news, but she had a difficult time concentrating on the weather report. Her mind kept returning to her conversation with Nick. She kept remembering what he’d said about knowing her with his eyes closed, and she reminded herself that Nick was far more dangerous when he was nice.

She took her dinner out of the microwave and wondered if Frank Stuart would really want to talk to her about the latest rumor. Just like ten years ago, the town was whispering about her again. Whispering about her and Nick and “hanky-panky” on the counter in her salon. But unlike ten years ago, she couldn’t run from it. She couldn’t escape.

Before she’d agreed to the terms of Henry’s will, she’d moved all over the place. She’d always had the freedom to pick up and move when the mood struck. She’d always been in control of her life. She’d always had a goal. Now everything was hazy and confused and out of control. And Nick Allegrezza was smack in the middle of it all. He was one of the biggest reasons her life was so messed up.

Delaney stood and walked into her bedroom. She wished she could blame everything on Nick. She wished she could hate him completely, but for some reason she couldn’t hate Nick. He’d made her more angry than anyone in her life, but she’d never been able to really hate him. Her life would be so much easier if she could.

When she fell asleep that night, she had another dream that quickly turned into a nightmare. She dreamed it was June and she’d fulfilled the terms of Henry’s will. She was finally able to leave Truly.

She was free and buzzing with pleasure. The sun poured all over her, bathing her in a light so bright she could hardly see. She was finally warm and wore a killer pair of purple platforms. Life just didn’t get much better.

Max was in her dream, and he handed her one of those big checks like she’d won The Publisher’s Clearing House Sweepstakes. She shoved it in the passenger seat of her Miata and jumped in the car. With the three million dollars beside her, she headed out of town feeling as if a mammoth weight had been lifted from her spirit, and the closer she drove to the Truly city limits, the lighter she felt.

She drove toward the city limits for what seemed like hours, and just when freedom was less than a mile away, her Miata turned into a Matchbox car, leaving her on the side of the road with her big check tucked under one arm. Delaney looked at the tiny car by the toe of her right purple platform and shrugged as if that sort of thing happened all the time. She stuck the car into her pocket so it wouldn’t get stolen and continued toward the city limits. But no matter how long or how fast she walked, the Leaving Truly sign remained barely visible in the distance. She began to run, leaning to one side to counterbalance the weight of her three-million-dollar check. The check grew increasingly burdensome, but she refused to leave it behind. She ran until her sides ached and she could move no further. The city limits remained in the distance, and Delaney knew without a doubt, she was stuck in Truly forever.

She sat straight up in bed. A silent scream on her lips. She was sweaty and her breathing choppy.

She’d just had the worst nightmare of her life.

“The Monster Mash” blared from five-foot speakers in the back of Mayor Tanasee’s Dodge pickup. Fake spiderwebs wrapped the truck in a gossamer tangle and two gravestones stood in the bed. The Dodge crawled up Main Street with witches and vampires, clowns and princesses, trailing behind. The excited chatter of ghosts and goblins mixed with the music and kicked off the annual Halloween parade.

Delaney stood in the sparse crowd in front of her salon. She shivered and snuggled deep into her green wool coat with the big glittery buttons. She was freezing, unlike Lisa who stood next to her in a B.U.M sweatshirt and a pair of cotton gloves. The newspaper predicted unseasonable warmth for the last day in October. The temperature was supposed to shoot up to a whopping forty degrees.

As a child, Delaney had loved the Halloween parade. She’d loved dressing up and marching through town to the high school gymnasium where the costume contest would begin. She’d never won, but loved it any way. It had given her a chance to play dress-up and cake on the cosmetics. She wondered if they still served cider and glazed doughnuts and if the new mayor handed out little bags of candy like Henry had done.

“Remember when we were in the sixth grade and shaved our eyebrows and dressed as psychotic killers and had blood squirting out of our necks?” Lisa asked from beside Delaney. “And your mother lost it big time?”

She remembered all right. Her mother had made her a stupid bride costume that year. Delaney had pretended to love the dress, only to turn up at the parade as a blood-soaked killer with no eyebrows. Thinking back, she didn’t know how she’d gathered the nerve to do something she’d known would anger her mother.

The next year Delaney had been forced to dress as a Smurf.

“Look at that kid and his dog,” Delaney said, pointing to a boy dressed as a box of McDonald’s french fries and his little dachshund decked out as a package of ketchup. It had been a long time since Delaney had driven through McDonald’s. “I’m craving a Quarter Pounder with cheese right now.” She sighed, visions of a greasy beef patty making her mouth water.

“Maybe one will walk down the street next.”

Delaney looked at her friend out of the corner of her eye. “I’ll fight you for it.”

“You’re no match for me, city girl. Look at you shivering to death in your big ol‘ coat.”

“I just need to acclimate,” Delaney grumbled, watching a woman and her baby dinosaur step from the sidewalk and join the parade. A door opened and closed somewhere behind her, and she turned, but no one had entered her salon.

“Where’s Louie?”

“He’s in the parade with Sophie.”

“As what?”

“You’ll see. It’s a surprise.”

Delaney smiled. She had a surprise of her own coming up. She’d had to get up real early this morning, but if everything went according to her plan, her business would take off.

A second truck slowly moved past with a big smoking cauldron and cackling witch on its flatbed. Despite the crazy black hair and green face, the crone looked slightly familiar.

“Who’s that witch?” Delaney asked.

“Hmm. Oh it’s Neva. You remember Neva Miller, don’t you?”

“Of course.” Neva had been wild and outrageous. She’d regaled Delaney with stories of stealing booze, smoking pot, and having sex with the football team. And Delaney had hung on every word. She leaned toward Lisa and whispered, “Remember when she told us about blowing Roger Bonner while he pulled his little brother water skiing? And you didn’t know what a blow job was so she told us in graphic detail?”

“Yeah, and you started to gag.” Lisa pointed to the man driving the truck. “That’s her husband, Pastor Jim.”

“Pastor? Holy hell!”

“Yep, she got saved or born again or whatever. Pastor Jim preaches over at that little church on Seventh Street.”

“It’s Pastor Tim,” corrected a painfully familiar voice directly behind Delaney.

Delaney did a mental groan. It was so typical of Nick to sneak up on her when she least expected him.

“How do you know it’s Tim?” Lisa wanted to know.

“We built his house a few years ago.” Nick’s voice was low, like he hadn’t used it much that morning.

“Oh, I thought maybe he prays for your soul.”

“No. My mother prays for my soul.”

Delaney cast a quick glance over her shoulder. “Maybe she should make a pilgrimage to Lourdes, or to that tortilla shrine in New Mexico.”

An easy smile curved Nick’s mouth. He’d pulled a thick hooded sweatshirt over his head; the white strings hung down his chest. His hair was pulled back from his face. “Maybe,” was all he said.

Delaney turned to the parade again. She raised her shoulders and buried her cold nose in the collar of her coat. There was only one thing worse than being baited by Nick, and that was wondering why he wasn’t baiting her at all. She’d seen very little of him since the day she’d knocked on the back door of his business. By tacit agreement, they were avoiding each other.

“Where did you come from?” Lisa asked him.

“I was making a few calls from the office. Has Sophie come by yet?”

“Not yet.”

Four boys dressed as bloody hockey players wheeled past on Roller Blades and were followed closely by Tommy Markham pulling his wife in a rickshaw. Helen was dressed as Lady Godiva, and on the back of the rickshaw hung a sign that read Helen’s Hair Hut. Quality cuts for ten dollars. Helen waved and threw kisses to the crowd, and on her head sat a rhinestone crown Delaney recognized all too well.

Delaney dropped her shoulders and uncovered the lower half of her face. “That’s pathetic! She’s still wearing her homecoming crown.”

“She wears it every year like she’s the queen of England or something.”