The Secret of the Dark (5 page)

Everyone knew her and came to where we sat down to speak to her. When the music started she tapped her foot and nodded her head to the lively tunes. The band consisted of two guitars, a mandolin, a dulcimer, and a fiddle.

Fleecy and her husband, Fletcher — a dried-up little old man, half the size of Fleecy — joined us. “Look at you, Annie. I'd forgot about that pretty dress.”

There were squares and reels and some line dances Neal called
contras
. At first I protested that I didn't know the dance steps, but Neal pushed or pulled me in the right direction as did other men in the square. I didn't have to remember to keep smiling as the music was the kind that made a person want to bounce and laugh.

Whenever I had the nerve, usually when he swung me round and round, I looked right into Neal's eyes, giving him my attention as if he were the only man in the room. We hadn't talked much at all but I felt as if he liked me a lot.

“I'm the envy of every male here,” he whispered as we broke for a drink and food, except that I was too excited to eat.

“How many girls are mad at me?” I asked. “I'm sure you're neglecting your usual partners.”

“If there were any, I've forgotten them.” He looked down at me and despite my decision, I had to look away. I concentrated on the food.

“What a beautiful-looking cake. I love coconut,” I said to cover my discomfort. I cut a small piece and slipped it onto my napkin even though I wondered if I could ever swallow it.

“I guess you left a lot of broken hearts in New York, being gone all summer,” Neal said, teasingly. He took a big slice, not even bothering with a napkin but aiming it straight for his mouth.

I teased him right back. “Half the city is in mourning.” We laughed and went to find seats near Granny. Someone had filled her a plate, and she was enjoying the sweets.

Before the break the caller had announced that the next dance would be for cloggers. I saw several people around us changing shoes. A girl close to me, who looked about ten years old, stood up and her shoes clicked on the wooden floor.

“Clogging goes back to Scotland and England, but it's most popular now in Appalachia,” Neal explained. “It's kind of like tap dancing to fiddle music.”

The music had the same toe-tapping rhythm of the square dances. A fiddler announced the first dance, then went to work on his instrument, making the dancers come alive. There was squealing and yelling along with the clicking of the dancers' shoes. To begin, all ages were on the floor in a free style. Every dancer was alone and did whatever steps he or she liked.

“Your turn, Annie,” Fleecy urged. “Show 'em how.”

To my surprise Granny set down her plate and stepped out onto the floor in front of us. She didn't have on clogging shoes but her feet stomped out the rhythm.

Tap-a-tap, tap-a-tap, tap-a-tap-tap-tap
.

Dancers round her stopped and circled her. “That-a-way, Granny.” “You show 'um.” “Look at her go.”

Only Granny's feet and legs moved. Her upper body and arms hung loose like a rag doll as she bobbed up and down. If she hadn't worn a big smile I'd have worried about her. In my thinking it wasn't an activity suitable for persons approaching ninety. But not in Granny's. She acted as if she'd danced around like that all her life. And I guess she had.

When the music stopped the crowd that had gathered cheered and clapped. Granny had become the life of the party. Dr. Gallagher showed up to escort her off the floor and back to her seat She wasn't even breathing hard, but I whispered to him, “Should she be doing that?”

He whispered back. “At her age you do as you please, Valerie. She'll probably outlive both of us.”

I laughed and shook my head. Neal took me over and introduced me to his mother, the county nurse. Her job was traveling to shut-ins all over the mountain.

“Can you do that, Valerie?” She referred to Granny's show.

“I don't think I'll even try,” I confessed.

“Sure you will. I'll teach you the basic steps,” Neal said.

I wanted to try it, but not on the dance floor. I made him show me some steps behind the row of chairs near the refreshment table.

Soon my feet got the idea, but I wished I could make more noise. My feet whispered in the ballet flats I'd worn.
Tappity-tap, tappity-tap, tappity-tap, tap, tap
. They wouldn't brush the way tap shoes would, and they got stuck on the floor, shuffling back and forth in what Neal called the chug. But trying it gave me some idea of how much work it was. Much more work than the square dancing. Granny must be in pretty good shape. I was puffing in a short time.

“What's the matter?” Neal laughed. “Too tough for you?”

“I'd hate for anyone to know how long I've trained to be a dancer.”

“That stuff? This is
real
dancing.”

“No argument,” I said. “I fully agree.”

Neal left me for a minute, and I tapped my way back to the big jug of iced water where a crowd gathered at every break. These people took their dancing seriously. I was impressed.

“Hey, fog sprite. This my dance?” a voice beside me half whispered in a low, sexy voice. I looked up to see my blond ghost of the morning.

“I … I …”

“Come on. You still scared of me? I'll prove I'm real.” He took my arm and pushed me toward the dance
floor
where squares were forming again.

Why not?
I thought. If I was going to practice being popular — the life of the party — I needed more than one guy to practice on. But I looked back, hoping Neal wouldn't be upset. I had pushed this ghost — I giggled at the idea — from my mind, but here he was again as big as life and equally as cute as Neal, even though he was a different style of guy.

Where Neal was quietly attractive, this guy was slightly arrogant and full of himself. Neal was sleek and neat — this guy slightly shaggy and playful. He wore tight jeans, a gold corduroy vest, and a cowboy hat as if he'd been born in them. His was a style I'd usually ignore, but to my surprise I found I was attracted to him, too. He was like a puppy who knew you couldn't resist him.

“Do you have a name?” I asked, pretending to be proper and not too impressed with his self-assurance.

He laughed. “Rick. Rick Biddleman.” He bowed slightly. “Your neighbor, should you ever need anything.”

“My neighbor? I've seen no house close by.”

“My dad and I own the property to the east of Granny, Miss Wreyford. Call and I can be there in minutes.” That smile again. It made me feel special.

I guess he knew my name, but I said it anyway. “Valerie Wreyford. I'm living with Granny this summer.”

“I know. I'm glad. My luck is changing.”

The set started and there was no more time to talk. I had to pay close attention and then over and over I went the wrong way. Everyone laughed and was good natured about it, though, so I didn't feel like I was ruining the dance.

As
we finished and shook hands, Rick put his arm around my waist to lead me off the dance floor.
Flirt, Valerie
, I reminded myself.
Here's your chance
.

“Are you always this friendly to girls you hardly know?” I took his hand away from my waist and stepped away but smiled as I did so.

“If I like them. No sense wasting time pretending.” He pulled me close again and what could I do in so public a place? I laughed, but as I looked up my eyes met those of Neal.

He wore a slight frown but stepped in beside me as we walked toward the refreshments. “I should have known better than to leave you alone,” he said to me. And to Rick, “I see you waited till my back was turned to steal my girl, Biddleman.”

“Your girl? Where's any sign that says she's taken? That she's your property? Are you Neal's property, Valerie?” he asked me.

“You guys are being silly. I'm not anyone's property.” I made that clear even in a light-hearted manner.

“You guys,”
Rick teased. “Listen to that New York accent. I figure your answer means you're free to come and let me show you my cave tomorrow.” Rick took a plate and helped himself to two different kinds of cake and a piece of chocolate pie.

“Your cave? You own a cave?”

“My dad does. It's for tourists but being from New York, you won't know the difference.”

“I've never been in a cave,” I said. I wanted to go, but I'd have to make arrangements for Granny.

“Caves are very dark,” Neal said. “Are you going to trust your life in the hands of this thief? I think I'd better go along.”

“You weren't invited,” Rick reminded him. He was still smiling but it was obvious he didn't want Neal to go along.

“Maybe I shouldn't go underground — in the dark — with either of you, much less both.” I tried to tease them out of the quarrel I suspected might be brewing. Two boys interested in me was one thing, fighting was another.

Rick grinned again. “She's not as naive as she looks. Okay, you win. Gallagher can tag along. Maybe we can lose him.”

Did I look naive, inexperienced at having guys quarrel over me, even if lightheartedly? Maybe I hadn't fooled anyone with my new image, but it looked as though I'd stalled a fight or hurt feelings.

Were Rick and Neal really interested in me when a month ago no one was? This was all new to me, but I found I liked it. And I was surprised that I was attracted equally to both guys. What was wrong with me? Was I going to get all silly and boy crazy at my age? I got hold of myself.

“Hey, I can't go anywhere with either of you. I can't leave Granny alone.” I thought of the cigarette smoke, Granny's visitor. No, no matter how badly I wanted to go, to be with either of the guys, I'd not neglect Granny.

Fleecy walked up to us. “We'll be calling it a night, Valerie. I'm a' comin' over to see Granny tomorrow, about two. She promised to find me her pattern for her double-wedding-ring quilt someday and now that you've cleaned up some, it might be a good time to find it.”

“There's your answer.” Rick laughed. “Problem solved. I'll be there at two o'clock. Dress for hiking.” He walked away before I could say no. I guess it was okay, though. But I'd talk to Fleecy.

Neal took us home and insisted that he walk us to the door. “I don't think you want to get involved with Rick Biddleman, Valerie,” he said when Granny went inside.

“Hey, don't tell me who to see. And aren't you going with us?”

“I guess I just sound jealous but —”

“Yes, you do.” I laughed. “Do Arkansas men always move this fast?”

Neal laughed too. “Don't tell me guys from New York are any different. I guess you're used to guys fighting over you.”

“Happens all the time. It's a real nuisance. So stop it.I'll see you tomorrow.”

I hurried inside before the real Valerie told the truth. My head spun and not from the dancing.

“I used to go dancing all the time,” Granny said when I came in. “Boys fought over me, too.”

Maybe Granny saw more than anyone thought.

“What did you do about it?”

“Laughed. Just laughed at them and did as I pleased.” Granny turned to go to her room. “I had yaller hair then and.…” She kept remembering as she took off her dress and gave it to me, changing to her nightie.

I stopped listening but laughed as I climbed the stairs to my nest. I guess you didn't have to have “yaller hair” to be popular.

CHAPTER

6

G
RANNY
and I both slept late Sunday morning.

When I woke I found my legs a bit tired and sore and knew I'd neglected them. But memories of the dance came back, and I lay there thinking for a few minutes before I got up. Valerie Wreyford had two boys interested in her.
I must write Pam. She'll either not believe me or hop the next plane, thinking it's easier to meet guys here than in New York
.

Mrs. Butterworth interrupted my daydreaming. She leaped onto the bed and sat looking at me for a minute, then bumped my chin with her head and meowed on my chest. “Get up, you sleepyhead,” she was saying. “I'm hungry.” Granny was right. We didn't own her. She owned us.

I was surprised to find Granny rummaging around in the kitchen when I got downstairs. Maybe the dance had got her going again. She wore an apron and had oatmeal bubbling and coffee perking.

“We're out of a heap of needments, child. Why don't you go fetch some things today?”

“It's Sunday, Granny. We'll find a way to town tomorrow.” Dr. Gallagher had encouraged me to get Granny out when he saw her all dressed up at the dance.

“I used to go to church. But I misdoubt I could set there so long now.” She scooped oatmeal into bowls, then added butter and brown sugar.

The cereal was creamier than I make it, but it was full of plumped-out raisins. I found I was really hungry. I was going to get fat if I kept eating like this without enough exercise.

“Hit's a pore meal, child. But there's no bacon and only one egg. I used to have chickens. They was a purty sight, strutting around in the yard.”

I was glad Granny didn't have chickens now. I wasn't quite ready for farm life. She went off then, mumbling again. I sipped my coffee and let my mind wander ahead to the afternoon. A cave, and seeing both Neal and Rick. I started to feel wiggly inside with excitement.

The phone ringing startled both of us. It seemed so out of place here.

“Hello.” I expected it to be Fleecy.

“Beware … of the dark.” The voice was low and muffled but the words distinct. I hung up quickly.

“Fleecy's coming,” Granny said, when I got back to the kitchen. “I reckon I'll give her my quilting patterns. I misdoubt I can ever see to quilt anymore.”

“Why don't you wear glasses, Granny?”

“They don't help none. I threw 'em out.”