Touching the Moon Page 7

  “Who belongs to Bud?” she asked, knowing the dog, but not the human to whom it belonged.

  “Finch.”

  Gray knocked once on the front door and they entered, Gray softly announcing their arrival. The elderly man was sitting on the sofa, his pet resting on a blanket beside him. The two were so still, a heavy weight of pain and suffering surrounding them both.

  “Finch,” Gray said. He addressed the elder with solemn reverence and he continued on in his native tongue. Julie waited patiently while they spoke. Although she never took her eyes off the two men, she noted the hand-carved wooden furniture, the woven rugs, and the tallow candles. A log fire burned hot behind her in the hearth. The room was Spartan and clean.

  The dog was not even remotely disturbed by strangers in the house. His eyes had opened briefly then closed again. He nuzzled his head into Finch’s lap with a weary groan.

  Gray motioned Julie forward and she explained what she was going to do while gently stroking the dog and holding on to the elderly man’s hand. Gray had already dug a grave, so when it was over, the three of them buried the animal in the pale blue light of late afternoon.

  Finch seemed to fade into even deeper silence when it was over, his mind numb and disconnected. Gray heated a can of soup and made sure that Finch ate it before they left.

  “You are a caring vet,” he said, as they headed back to town.

  “I know how tightly people can bond with their animals, especially if they live alone or have personal traumas. It’s so much easier to deal with pain if you’ve got the quiet understanding of a silent friend, a friend who loves you anyway, despite everything.”

  His eyes cut to her as they pulled into the veterinary parking lot. “I appreciate everything you did today, Julie.”

  She nodded. “I have cookies for you,” she said, fetching them from her car.

  He took the tin gratefully.

  “Pecan tassies,” she said by way of explanation. “Like miniature southern pecan pies, but better.”

  “I don’t believe that I’ve ever had such a cookie before.”

  “Then you are in for a treat.” She was about to drive home, when an odd thought struck her. “Gray?”

  He turned.

  “How on earth did you dig out that grave? The ground is frozen solid.”

  “Wheaties,” he said, his face carefully neutral. “Breakfast of champions.”

  She grinned at him and let it go. When she got home, she called Dan Keating.

  He answered on the first ring. “Alive and well,” she chirped.

  “Very glad to hear it,” he said, his voice deep and low. “No problems?”

  “None,” she said. “I feel so silly for worrying about him. He’s a very nice man, genuine and deep. I shouldn’t have called you this afternoon.”

  “You call me anytime you have a worry,” he said. “Number one, it’s my job. Number two, I like hearing your voice.”

  She chuckled. “Thanks, but I guess what I’m saying is that perhaps your concerns are misplaced too. He’s a good guy.”

  12

  On Tuesday after work, she drove to Elliott’s home. Elliott greeted her at the door and wrapped her in a big bear hug. Petey, Ro-Bear and George squeezed her in turn. They all sported beers. Elliott pushed one into her hand before she even set her purse down.

  “Pizza-time,” said George. “Elliott made us wait until your arrival.”

  Elliott sent George a warning look.

  “Which is only right and fair,” added George quickly. “But we’re starving.”

  George did not look like he was starving. George looked as if he were a major shareholder in the local Krispy Kreme franchise. Julie removed her coat and took a swallow of beer. “Don’t let me hold you up, men. Dig in.”

  “No, no,” said Elliott, lifting the first of three large pizza boxes. “Ladies first. What would you like, Julie? We’ve got pepperoni thin crust, pepperoni thick crust and pepperoni double cheese?”

  “Choices, choices,” she said as if mentally debating the question. “Pepperoni thin crust, please.”

  Petey pulled out a chair for her at the table. Ro-bear handed her a wad of napkins, the extra hots and Parmesan cheese.

  “Guys!” she said, uncomfortable with all the attention.

  “We need you, Julie,” said Elliott. They all nodded vigorously.

  “Please eat, guys. Then I’ll sing a few songs, and we’ll see if y’all still feel the same way.”

  They dug in as if they hadn’t eaten in a week. She wondered if they even chewed the pizza. Then, as quick as dinner started, it was over. The pizza boxes were force-fed into the trashcan. They popped the tops on fresh beers and grabbed their instruments.

  Julie examined a play list while they warmed up. Then they played music all evening, and Julie sang until her voice grew rough.

  “Well,” she croaked. “What’s the verdict?”

  “She’s a keeper,” said Petey.

  “Lock and load,” said George.

  “Done deal,” said Ro-Bear.

  “Welcome to the band,” said Elliott.

  Julie took a weekend and headed into Rapid City to buy clothes for the contest. The Copper Pigs had been vague when she questioned them about the look they wanted. On her way back to Fallston, she called Elliott and told him of her purchases. He invited her for a fashion show/dress selection party, promising to have pizza and beer at the ready.

  The men were in the living room watching football when she arrived. Elliott helped her into the house with her packages and set her up in the kitchen which would serve as changing room. As he explained, this arrangement would be most convenient as she could easily bring in the next round of beers with each outfit she modeled.

  “You are a sexist pig,” she said without heat.

  “I’m a Copper Pig,” said Elliott. “Give me a beer, woman.”

  She was sporting a casual denim outfit and struggling to pin a toy police badge to the ‘v’ of her halter-top when someone knocked at the kitchen door.

  Both parties were taken by surprise when she opened the door. “Hello, Dan!” she said, stepping back to allow him entrance.

  He frowned at her in confusion, waves of emotion washing over his face. She stepped into him and pecked him on the cheek.

  “What are you doing here, Julie?”

  “Elliott hasn’t told you?” It was her turn to be confused.

  “Told me what?” His voice was hard.

  “He asked me to step in as lead singer for his band after his girl went to New Orleans. It’s just for this one gig, the band competition.”

  “He didn’t tell me.”

  “Well, I know he’s been keeping it somewhat quiet because his girl will actually be in town for the event and will attend the show. He doesn’t want to tip his hand. But, I thought he’d have told you at least. Elliott feels that she is coming back to watch him fall on his face. He, naturally, envisions a different scenario.”

  He watched her fumbling with the badge. “Do you need some help with that?”

  “Thanks,” she said, handing him the badge. “Pin me, please.”

  He affixed the badge to her top, his warm fingers playing softly across her exposed skin. “You look nice,” he said.

  “Thanks. I have three outfits to try on for the guys. This is the first. They didn’t give me a whole lot of instruction as to what they were looking for with regard to look or image, so I was shopping blind.”

  “I think they’ll like this one.”

  “You haven’t seen the other two.”

  “Do I get to?”

  “Sure! The men are in the living room drinking beer and watching football. I’m going to give them a little fashion show.”

  He went to the refrigerator and grabbed a cold one. “I’m very glad I stopped by.”

  She smiled and he stepped up to her and kissed her softly on the lips. His eyes twinkled as he touched the cold beer to her exposed belly. She squealed.

&nbs
p; Wait until he got a hold of Elliott.

  She thought the men liked the jeans and halter-top. Their eyes darted between her and the big screen while she modeled the outfit.

  “You look great,” Dan said, his eyes full upon her.

  “Ohhhh,” she retorted. “I think you just like me. You’d probably say that I looked great if I wore nothing at all.”

  His eyes grew wide. “I’m sure I would,” he enthused. “When do I get that fashion show?”

  Elliott cut in. “Next outfit, please. Who needs beer?”

  Two hands went into the air. She pivoted on her heel and changed.

  They were definitely under-whelmed by an artsy skirt and vest outfit. They were more interested in the commercials than what she wore. She went back and changed into a copper cocktail dress.

  “All right,” she said, emerging. “This is kind of Vogue-meets-Victoria’s Secret.” She moved under a ceiling light. “And look, it really catches the light. This one has the stage presence the last outfit lacked, I think.”

  No one said a word, so her head snapped up in the silence. Their faces were slack with shock, and she had their undivided attention.

  “What? Y’all don’t like this one either?” She swallowed and shrugged, wrapping her arm across her waist self-consciously. “No problem.” She turned and headed back to the kitchen.

  “Julie!”

  It was Elliott. She pivoted on her heels and looked at him. It was his turn to swallow.

  “If I may speak for the band,” he said then stopped, looking from face to face. They all nodded vigorously. “That dress is…” He fumbled. “We just were so surprised that we… It’s perfect.”

  “Really?” she said, a tentative smile on her lips.

  “Really,” Elliott parroted. “Right, men?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “For sure.”

  “Damn straight.”

  Her head pivoted to Dan, waiting for his approval.

  “If you are going to wear that outfit in Fallston, Julie, you will need police protection,” said Dan.

  She blushed. “I definitely have that, don’t I, men?”

  “Most definitely.”

  “Yes.”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Don’t you worry about a thing.”

  She beamed at Dan. “See! It’s a wrap.”

  She performed a corkscrew wiggle that started at her hips, transitioned to her bust and finished with her neck and head.

  Dan’s eyes nearly popped out of his head. “What was that?”

  “Happy dance. I only let loose when I feel safe. I’m totally safe, right guys?”

  “Like Fort Knox.”

  “The Pentagon.”

  “The White House.”

  “Camp David.”

  “Great,” she said. “Then I’ll wear this sparkly little number and hope to sing on key.”

  She didn’t expect a case of the nerves, but there were at least a thousand people in the music hall, and her gut was in an uproar. The bands had all drawn straws and the Copper Pigs were dead last.

  Although Elliott had told the troupe that last was very good, the minutes passed slowly backstage and her tension and worry continued to build.

  “Relax, woman,” Elliott admonished.

  “Easy for you to say,” she countered.

  He took a deep breath and nodded. Ten minutes later, he approached her with a cup of tea and said, “Drink this.”

  “What is it?” she asked, inhaling a rich, earthy, peaty note. “Lapsang Souchong?”

  “Nope,” he said. “It’s Lipton laced with Gentleman Jack.”

  “What’s Gentleman Jack?”

  “An attitude adjuster. Drink it, Julie. You’ll be right as rain.”

  She did. And she was.

  The stage fright completely dissipated and her body was infused with a heady warmth. When the spotlight hit her on stage, she was already hot, her previously stiff muscles liquid and relaxed.

  Although there had been an endless string of practices the week prior to the competition, the band watched her make moves they’d never seen before. And the audience loved her. They ate her up, especially the right quadrant of the hall. Nothing but policemen and their families there.

  She hit every note with strength and with passion. Despite her stage fright, she was high-tensile strength upon delivery. Her notes sang true.

  Eight competitors were eliminated to three. They made the cut! When the finalists were brought on stage, the Copper Pigs took first place.

  Midst the high-fives and the macho, manly hugs of champions, Julie calculated what one thousand dollars would do for her and smiled.

  “Elliott,” she said, tugging on his arm when the curtain went down. “Thank you for this opportunity. If you need me again, I would like to help out.”

  He grinned. “Really, Julie?”

  “Yeah,” she said. “I’m up to my eyeballs in debt from veterinary school. This could help me.”

  “Done. The guys will be most pleased.”

  “By the way, did you see your ex out there in the audience?”

  Elliot’s smile spread even wider. “Victory never tasted so sweet.”

  They caravanned to Jake’s to celebrate with a good portion of the audience in tow. There were so many people crowding into the small establishment that the party ended up spilling into the parking lot. There was an open-container law in effect outside the confines of the little restaurant, but the officers turned a blind eye that evening much to the owner’s relief. The juke box wailed at full volume and the voices were even louder.

  Julie found herself wedged tightly in a corner surrounded by Copper Pigs and Dan Keating. He had his arm around her waist possessively and his fingers toyed with her copper tassels in a slow tease.

  She tried to ignore his touch, but failed. She turned to him, her awkwardness written all over her face.

  He smiled at her good-naturedly. “You feel good, woman. I’ve never touched anything that felt so nice.”

  She blushed. She had intended to ask him to stop, but she took a long sip of her drink instead. She was working on a Perrier and lime. The raging noise around her was deafening. She retreated into the silence of her mind and relaxed against Dan. He nuzzled her neck and she let him, then she turned and found his ear.

  “I’m going to run to the ladies room.”

  He released her reluctantly and watched as she threaded her way through the crowd, her copper dress swaying provocatively. He noticed more than one man turn in her direction. His eyes caught Elliott’s then swung back to find Julie again. He didn’t see her. He stood and went to find her. All kidding aside, the woman was going to need a little police protection tonight.

  He was waylaid by many bar patrons as he pushed through the crowd. The going was slow. His feet tingled with the thrumming bass beat of the juke box. The floor pulsed beneath him.

  He looked up as the throng parted. Julie was crossing the dance floor. Then, in less than a heartbeat, pandemonium erupted. Dan saw the mirrored ceiling panel move above her. By the time he realized what was happening, the dance floor was covered in broken glass as one mirror after another fell onto the hardwood. Bar patrons pushed to escape the flying shards of glass and ran rough shod for the exits, almost trampling each other in their fear.

  Dan could hear the police taking charge behind him, quelling the panic and restoring order, but the quiet that ensued was eerie and unnerving. Only one form remained on the dance floor – Gray Walker. The hulking Native American was bent in half. Something delicate and copper-sheathed was wrapped in his powerful arms. Julie dangled like a rag doll beneath his chest.

  “Julie,” said Gray. “I’m going to straighten up and flip you into my arms. Don’t wiggle. I don’t want to lose my footing.”

  “I’m all wiggled out, trust me.”

  His chest rumbled in what was pained laughter. “You wiggle quite nicely, Ms. Hastings,” he said, standing erect, shifting his hold on her so that
she nested snug in his arms. “I was in the audience tonight.”

  She turned to look at him, but his eyes were closed. Then, her eyes lighted upon the blood streaming down the side of his head. Her eyes took in the devastation around her and fixed on Dan. He was making his way toward her very slowly, the wood slippery with broken glass.

  “You’re hurt, Gray,” Dan said, as he approached. “Give Julie to me.”

  “No,” Gray said, tightening his grip on her. “I’ll walk her clear.”

  Julie turned a frightened face toward Dan as Gray squeezed the air out of her, then she focused upon the Native American that held her.

  “Look at me, Gray.”

  His eyes were closed. He seemed to open them reluctantly and with great effort. His irises startled her. They didn’t look human. She blinked, swallowing hard to clear her head, then looked again. Gray’s dark chocolate eyes regarded her carefully.

  “I think you have a concussion,” she said, searching his face and her mind for an explanation of what she thought she had seen. “You might get a dizzy spell and drop me.”

  “I won’t.”

  “Why don’t you give me to Dan?”

  “Be still, Julie.” He moved slowly through the broken glass, his feet sliding like icebreakers through the shattered crystal.

  “Get me a first aid kit, please,” Julie called out to anyone and everyone within earshot.

  When she was on her feet, she tugged Gray over to a quiet corner and sat him in a chair then pulled up a seat directly opposite. They regarded each other silently, her eyes professionally assessing his. She swallowed. His pupils were not dilated. In fact, his eyes looked quite normal. She shuddered, dispelling the unease she had experienced on the dance floor.

  “Bend down, Gray,” she said softly. “Let me see your head.”

  He did as he was told. She touched him gently, moving his hair so that she could find the cut. “It’s not deep,” she told him quietly. “But head wounds tend to bleed extensively.”

  Dan returned to her with a first aid kit and she went to work. “I would have thought that you’d need stitches, but I don’t think you will. You must have an inordinately hard head.” He lifted his head to look at her. She was smiling. “Thank you, Gray.” She paused. “If any of those panels had struck me directly, I think I’d be in the hospital right now. Or the morgue.”