The Ugly Truth Page 2

  He chuckled. “Oh come on, I remember you from third period.”

  I edged back a bit, always better to keep your distance from a potentially unbalanced person no matter how good looking he was. “Sorry, you have me confused with someone else.”

  “Blackwood was a real pain,” he said, as if I hadn’t uttered a syllable. “Making us do all kinds of extra work.”

  Blackwood. “Is this teacher related to Jake Blackwood?”

  The man’s expression went from smile to suspicion without passing go. “You weren’t in my class, were you?”

  What do you know, there were a couple of brain cells in there. “No, I wasn’t.”

  “So, how do you know Blackwood?”

  I had him on the defensive. I swallowed back the threatening grin. “I told you, I wasn’t in your class. How could I know this Mr. Blackwood?”

  His nostrils flared in obvious frustration. “Jake Blackwood.”

  I gave him my best wide-eyed stare. “That’s the name of the teacher?”

  The man’s nostrils flared even wider, which was saying something.

  “Butch, buddy. Are you bothering this nice lady?”

  The voice startled Wide Nostrils. He took a step back before he turned and glared at Jake. “I’m not your buddy.”

  Jake didn’t even blink; he just stared at the other man.

  Butch snorted through his wide nostrils then turned and walked away.

  A shiver of lingering annoyance moved through me, but was pushed away by the handsome man beside me. “Thank you for the rescue.”

  “No problem.”

  I felt a tingle in response to the twinkle in his eyes. I hadn’t seen the right side of his face before, but now it was obvious that under the five o’clock shadow was a wide, flat scar. I realized I was staring when he put his fingers against it.

  “I was in an accident.”

  My hand moved in the direction of his face, and I put it back down by my side where it belonged. “It looks good on you.”

  He stared at me for a moment, as if he thought I might be making fun of him. My sincerity must have come through, because he let out a quick, wry laugh. “I’m glad you like it.”

  “I’m sorry for the pain you must have gone through to get your scar, but it gives you a rugged look.” I did touch his face then, with the tips of my fingers. “It’s quite sexy.”

  “Sexy, huh?”

  His eyes had gone from brown to black, and I felt an answering tingle deep inside my body. My breathing kicked up a notch, my heart banged hard against my ribs, I swallowed convulsively against the drying of my mouth. My hand moved again, toward the alien topography of his cheek. I could almost feel my lips pressing gently against the hard stubble covering the soft, flat reminder of what must have been a horrible experience.

  Thinking of the fire reminded me of why I was in Ugly Creek—for the friend who had saved my job and sanity—and I dropped my hand to my side. “Yes, it’s sexy.”

  “Thank you,” he whispered.

  I heard a high-pitched giggle, and when I looked in that direction, I saw Maddie and Liza heading my way. I instinctively glanced toward Jake, only to find he’d vanished. For the best, I guess. All I needed was to be caught in the middle of a confrontation between my best friend and the best thing this flea-butt town had to offer. I sighed. Such is my life.

  “Just standing there by herself, looking bored. That’s Stephie for you.”

  “I wasn’t just standing here,” I told Maddie. “I was talking to some of your classmates and taking pictures.” And talking to a guy who could give Hugh Jackman a run for the money.

  “Yeah, yeah, whatever. Let’s go have some fun.” She grabbed my arm.

  “I’m fine right here.” I’d rather stand here and see if this Jake dude came back, but Madison was persistent, and strong. So I finally gave in.

  I spent the next eternity—I mean hour—meeting unremarkable people I could not have cared less about. There were some highlights, like an overly dramatic recreation of Jimmy, Ugly Creek High football’s best wide receiver ever, looking directly into the unblinking male English teacher’s eyes and reciting the poem “How Do I Love Thee, Let Me Count the Ways.” I wasn’t sure any amount of extra credit would be worth that kind of humiliation.

  And then it was time for the boring speeches.

  “Welcome to The Ugly Creek Big Foot Festival and our ten year high school reunion,” said an average-looking, average-height man in a light brown suit that matched his light brown hair and light brown eyeglass frames. “For the benefit of the visitors and those with amnesia, I’ll introduce myself. I’m Roy Palmer, class president, head of the reunion committee, and the owner of The Arcane Restaurant and Mystical Supply Shop. I’d like to invite y’all to come on down, and to encourage you, I’m offering a free tarot reading by our resident psychic, Connie Malone. All you have to do is show your nametag from this reunion and tell ‘em what you want.”

  While he was babbling, the three of us settled at one of the tables scattered over the floor. Steve joined us there, sat next to his wife and smiled toward her with an expression of happiness that kicked me in the jealous bone.

  The class president continued, “As I hope you know, because of the horrific tragedy of ten years ago, our class voted to expand and reschedule our reunion so we would be gathering during the week of the annual Big Foot Festival. Our reunion committee and the city council worked together to make this week a very special one. The theme for this week is ‘Heroes’. And it’s a theme chosen by, and especially suited to, our class. Because it was one man, one hero, who ten years ago, paid the ultimate price in an effort to save members of our class.”

  I looked over at Maddie, and my heart twisted. This was why I was here, I reminded myself, to support her through what was sure to be an agonizing experience. I’m not sure I’d have had the guts to come and face the loss all over again. But if I had, she would come with me, of that I was sure.

  “No one knows exactly how the fire started, though there is no shortage of theories. What we do know, is how quickly the flames spread through the gym where the prom was in full swing. Before we knew what was happening, the smoke was so thick it was impossible to see. Sometimes, if I listen carefully, I almost believe I can still hear the screams.”

  He paused, and I strained to hear the residual echo of what must have been a hellish night.

  “Virgil Clark and his fellow firemen saved many of us from the inferno,” he continued, his voice tight, and the index cards in his hands trembling. “All of them acted with skill and bravery, but Mr. Clark gave his very life to save others. It is in his memory that both the reunion and the festival are dedicated.”

  He stepped down, and applause filled the room. I wasn’t paying attention, though, because I was focused on Madison. Tears filled her eyes and overflowed onto her cheeks. “Daddy,” she whispered, as she wiped at her face. I put my hand on her arm, but the gesture felt so inadequate it seemed hardly worth it. I caught Liza’s expression out of the corner of my eye, and she looked just about how I felt. We could be there for Maddie, but we couldn’t protect her from the pain this week was going to cause. Tears stung my own eyes as I thought about my own father. Not taken by a disaster like Maddie’s, my father just walked away one day and never came back. Was it worse not to know if your dad ever even loved you?

  As I forced my mind back to the event, I heard the call for volunteers to help out during the week-long festival, and I had a bout of nostalgia as a wave of people washed toward the sign-up table. Small town people have big hearts.

  Dang, what was wrong with me? I shoved the thought into the long-forgotten recesses of my mind. As I turned back toward my friend, I saw Jake across the room. He stood alone, and looked almost as stricken as Maddie. What in the world had happened between those two?

  Over the next few minutes, almost everybody in the room came over to tell Madison how much they had admired her father. Personally, I would have been very un
comfortable with all these people seeing me at my most vulnerable, but Maddie seemed to gain consolation from it. She sniffed softly, and wiped at her eyes, her expression sweetly sad as she greeted her friends.

  When I cry, which is almost never, I look like I have two black eyes and a big old red clown nose. I know because I cried plenty when my dad left.

  Thankfully, the opening event only lasted another hour, and the microsecond it was over, I stuffed Maddie into her car. It was early evening, and we’d gone straight to the reunion event, so we had yet to unload our stuff after the drive down from D.C. I was more than ready to put my feet up and relax.

  I drove through the quickly dimming streets, and Maddie, still sniffling sweetly, guided me toward the house where we’d be staying for the duration. Personally, I looked forward to a hot shower and a soft bed. I felt totally, completely, drained.

  “So,” I asked, in an effort to get Maddie to think of something besides the loss of her father. “What’s your mom like?”

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her shrug. “Just Mom.”

  “Didn’t you say she works for a lawyer?”

  “The largest firm in the area, actually. She’s been a legal secretary for as long as I can remember.”

  “Sounds interesting.” Actually, it sounded beyond boring, but I couldn’t exactly say that.

  I steered Madison’s cute little red Chevy Aveo around a corner and pulled up the driveway she indicated. The headlights and a porch light illuminated a home that could be the model for gingerbread houses—except for one thing.

  “You didn’t tell me your mom’s house was purple.” Purple, mind you. Not violet or lavender or plum. This was bright, unadulterated purple.

  There was silence from the other seat, and I looked toward my friend. Madison stared open-mouthed toward the house.

  I climbed out of the car, and I saw Madison was doing the same thing on the other side. “It looks really nice,” I said.

  Madison, who still stared open-mouthed toward the place, didn’t answer.

  A pink Cadillac pulled in beside us, and a balding middle-aged man in a spandex Spiderman costume minus the mask, climbed out. My camera was in my hand before I thought about it, and I snapped shots of this out-of-the-ordinary person. He aimed a smile in my direction before turning to my open-mouthed friend.

  “You must be Madison,” he said. “I’ve heard so much about you,” he held out his hand to her. “I’m Henry, your mother’s boyfriend.”

  As I watched Maddie’s eyes widen even more, I was suddenly very, very glad I’d come.

  I wouldn’t have missed this for the world.

  Chapter 2

  The front door of the purple house opened, and a tall, beautiful woman stepped out onto the porch.

  “Margaret,” the man in the Spiderman suit said. “Look who’s here!”

  “Madison! I’m so glad to see you!” The woman in the doorway hurried out to embrace her daughter.

  “Hi, Mom. I’m sorry I haven’t visited in so long.”

  Maddie’s voice struck such a downcast note; the sound of it made a tiny hole in my heart.

  “You’ve been busy. I understand.” Margaret kept an arm around Madison as she turned. “And you must be Stephie. It’s so nice to finally meet you.”

  “Nice to meet you, too.” I smiled toward the vibrant woman, whose light brown hair had only a touch of gray. Her bright smile, her khaki pants and crisp sapphire blue blouse all complimented the aura of a woman who seemed far too young to have a daughter a mere year and eight months from thirty. I thought of the workouts and beauty treatments my mother endured in an effort to hold back the signs of passing time. I was sure she’d envy this woman who so naturally radiated youth.

  Margaret beckoned to us. “Come on in, the mosquitoes will eat us alive out here.”

  “It’s purple,” Madison said, staring hard toward the house.

  Margaret chuckled as she wrapped an arm around her daughter, and edged her toward the front porch.

  Spiderman held the door as I followed Maddie and her mother inside. They’d moved through the small foyer and turned to go into the living room when Madison suddenly stopped, causing me to bump into her.

  “Mom?”

  The shock and disbelief in her voice had my curiosity bouncing up and down, and I edged around Maddie’s body in an effort to see the room.

  It was like stepping outdoors on a bright, happy, spring day. The walls were sky blue, and the slipcovers were mint green with bright yellow flowers. The coffee and end tables were rich brown with tiny flowers painted up the legs as if they had grown there.

  There were real flowers in pots, sending out a soft, sweet scent throughout the room. The curtain fabric was a colorful mosaic of sunflower yellow, sage green, brilliant indigo, and sunset red. It was gorgeous, and the artist part of me was ecstatic. I raised my camera to capture the sight. “This is great! Did you decorate it yourself?”

  “Henry helped me.”

  “I helped with the grunt work, but the decorating was all her,” Henry said, pride obvious in his voice. “Margaret’s a very artistic person.”

  “Well, thank you!” Margaret said, as her face went pink.

  The woman was blushing. How cool!

  Madison stared at her mother, sort of like she was wondering who this person was. “Mom, could I speak with you for a moment?” Her voice was pitched high enough as to be reminiscent of her earlier squeals.

  “I made some iced tea,” Margaret said. “You can help me bring it in here.” Together they walked into the kitchen, leaving Spidey and me alone in the living room.

  “Nice suit,” I told him, as we made ourselves at home on the couch.

  “Thank you,” he said. “The children love it.”

  Huh? “Children?”

  “I volunteer at the children’s hospital a couple of days a week. I just came from there.”

  “That’s so great!” There was clearly more to this man than met the eye, and I immediately wanted to get to know him better. “I couldn’t deal with sick kids,” I told him. “I volunteer at a homeless shelter, and we get children in there way too often. Breaks my heart.”

  “Breaks mine too, but I love the feeling that maybe I can bring some happiness into the little darlings’ lives.”

  “You’re a good man...Henry, right?”

  He held out a hand to her. “Henry Thomas at your service.”

  “Like the kid in E.T.?”

  He chuckled. “You know, I’ve never seen that movie.”

  “You should, it’s really great.” I shook his hand. “And my name is Stephie.”

  “Stephie what?”

  “My last name’s Stephanova. Stephie’s a nickname.”

  “So what’s your first name?”

  Oh good grief, you can’t slide anything past these people. “I prefer to just go with Stephie, if you don’t mind.”

  He inclined his head as he gave me a soft smile. “Whatever the lady wants.”

  A real gentleman? I thought they were creatures of legend. Like Bigfoot. I gave him my very best smile. “Thank you, kind sir.”

  I studied his warm eyes for a moment, but quickly became uncomfortable and looked away. When I did, I caught a glimpse of a picture above the fireplace, and crossed the room for a better look. The painting was clear, colorful, and almost impressionistic with its soft edges and exaggeration of features. “This is great!”

  “Margaret’s a talented artist.”

  Margaret. I leaned closer, and sure enough, the signature read, “Margaret Clark.”

  Henry came to stand beside me. “I’m very proud of her.”

  “You should be. This is amazing.”

  The sound of footsteps announced the return of Madison and her mother, who carried trays with iced tea and snacks. Maddie looked a bit teary-eyed, but Margaret was smiling.

  “This painting is wonderful, Mrs. Clark,” I said. “You’re very talented!”

  “Thank you, and plea
se call me Margaret.”

  “You’re painting again, Mom?” Madison’s voice sounded like she’d been sucking on a helium-filled balloon.

  “I started again about a year ago,” Mrs. Clark…Margaret…said.

  “I encouraged her,” Henry said. “Talent like hers shouldn’t go to waste.”

  Madison’s gaze swung to Henry, and I could see distrust and barely restrained hostility flash in her eyes.

  “Henry volunteers at the children’s hospital,” I told her. “That’s why the costume.”

  Madison didn’t say a word, she just stared at him.

  Henry gave a small, sad sigh. “The only bad thing about my volunteer work is it takes time from my business. I need to get going.”

  He gave Margaret a quick kiss on her lips, then nodded toward Madison and me. “Glad to meet you.”

  “Glad to meet you too,” I told him, and I meant it.

  Madison muttered, “Me too,” as Henry left.

  Margaret closed and locked the front door, then turned back to us. “I know you don’t like me seeing him, Maddie, but Henry has been very good for me.”

  Madison spun and glared at her mother. “How can you betray Daddy like this?”

  “I loved your father very much, but he’s been gone ten years.”

  “I don’t care how long it’s been, he’ll always be my father.” Madison spun and tore up the stairs like a banshee was right on her heels.

  The sigh that blew from Margaret seemed to push out all her stuffing. Her head drooped forward and her eyes closed.

  I decided to venture a try. “This festival thing is hard on her.”

  “I know,” Margaret whispered. “And I know this isn’t the best time to spring something like her mother’s boyfriend on her, but that isn’t really something you can talk about over the phone or in a letter.” She looked at me then. “We’d thought Henry would be gone before you two got here, but he got held up at the hospital so he didn’t get here until you were already here and...” She shrugged. “Well, we’d decided we weren’t going to hide our relationship from Maddie. It wouldn’t be fair to either of them.”

  “Henry seems like a very nice man.”