Someone for Everybody

PROLOG

This is the second (and concluding) part of the second story in my WHIRLWIND series. They are unrelated stories with a common theme; each one is based on a short, slightly unusual courtship, with a primary female character who believes that she cannot find love for some reason -- and a primary male character determined to prove her wrong. There is some sex in this one, so be warned.

SOMEONE FOR EVERYBODY Part 2

CHAPTER 4 -- Hometown gossip network (Continued)

The next morning, Lillian skidded into the parking lot and unlocked and opened the diner at precisely 5:45. Her expression, however, was that of an ambassador about to deliver a declaration of war. The traitor, Judy, shuffled in behind her, yawning and heading straight for the kitchen. As soon as the kitchen door shut, she turned around, an almost manic smile on her face, and held the door for Doug.

"Good morning, Doug. Why don't you sit at the counter for a change, right here by the register?"

For a moment the quite elderly Doug Fenster looked like he usually did when suddenly realized he should have put new batteries in his hearing aid. Then, hunched over his walker, he shot an almost horrified look. "I can't sit there. That's the sheriff's seat."

Lillian's temper went from nothing to explosive in the blink of an eye, and she was just about to snap that it was NOT the sheriff's seat, it had no name on it, was not fenced off, and certainly did not belong to him, when she was brought up short by Doug's next remark as her shuffled to his usual booth. "Though he might not be in this morning, what with going to the hospital last night."

Blood is normally warm and fluid, but hers froze in her veins. Her flare of annoyance died away as quickly as the flash of a lightning bolt. Sheriff? Hospital? The words her uncle had spoken - combat veteran - came back to her vividly. The Purple Heart license plate on his truck. Had he...?

She chased after Doug, startling him as she leaned over the table with a bump which sent the salt and pepper skidding across the tabletop. "What about the sheriff? Why is he in the hospital? What's going on?"

"Well, you know how I have a scanner, right? Picks up the police and fire, and, oh, once in a while even picks up the county airport control tower, and once even...."

"Yes, you talk about it all the time! What about the sheriff?"

Doug blinked at her owlishly. "Oh, last night, over to North Maple street, you know, the Tanner's house, Gus and Frieda, they...."

"Doug I've lived in this town my entire thirty years, I know where everyone lives," Lillian said, forcing herself not to shout. "What about the hospital?"

"I was a-getting there, Lillian, no need to get upset," Doug said reproachfully. "Anyhow, young Clark Sudcliffe snuck over to the Tanner house, and young Kimberley Tanner snuck out onto the back porch roof, and they evidently was playing Romeo and Juliet, probably cuz that is what their English class is studying, and they kind of fancy each other, what with...."

"What with Clark having gotten to second base with Kim last week behind the concession stand at the high school football field, I know, everyone knows, what about the sheriff?"

"Well Kim, she took a tumble off the porch roof and compound fractured her leg. Clark called 9-1-1 on his cell phone, and what with him pursuing his Eagle rank, started First Aid. I heard the dispatch call the Morrisville ambulance squad for a transport from North Maple Street, Hollister to the county hospital, while I was watching the Late Show, you know, cuz I don't sleep well these days...." Doug faltered to a stop as he noticed the expression on Lillian's face, which advertised that she was seriously considering strangling him. "Anyway," Doug resumed hurriedly, eager to save his life, "all of a sudden the sheriff comes up on the radio cancelling the call and saying he was on route. It couldn't have been two minutes later he was at the Tanner's, calmed her folks down, checked Clark's first aid, put her in the back seat of the police cruiser with her mom, and Clark in the passenger seat, and had her at County General in less than ten minutes. Went right by my house. By the time I heard the siren coming, it was already going. Good thing he doesn't have to arrest himself for speeding. He should have gone by your house too; didn't you hear the siren?"

Lillian shook her head impatiently. She had been taking prescription sleeping pills the last few years, which was probably one of the reasons she had trouble getting up in the morning. She was breathing easier, and her heart rate had slowed to the point that you could probably have counted the beats if you were quick. At least the sheriff wasn't in the hospital.

"The sheriff, you know he rents out the in-law apartment over the widow Oaks old garage?" Lillian nodded, not trusting herself to speak. "Well, she had some tea ready for him when he got back from the hospital, and got most of the story out of him before he nodded off, and I run into her at the 24 hour store on the way here when I stopped to pick up some chocolates, the kind my wife Minnie likes, cuz you know it's her birthday today, even though she don't remember it, and Ellie Oaks was in to get the first paper delivery like always, and we got to talking. So I didn't mean to upset you about the sheriff; I didn't think you cared about him all that much."

Lillian could feel, actually feel, the blood pouring into her face, lighting her up like a traffic light with a rush of heat that made her light-headed. "The sheriff is..., the sheriff is..., the sheriff is a steady, dependable customer, and an important part of the community, and, and, he was wounded in the war, and why wouldn't anyone be concerned?" Before Doug could answer, Lillian added, "And you've seen him change out that flower every morning, right?"

Doug opened his mouth, thought better of the response, and said, with a twinkle in his eye, "What flower?"

Lillian stared at the slight smile on Doug's face. It was the same smile he had every year when he took Minnie a bouquet of red sweetheart roses on their anniversary, because he remembered even if she didn't.

"You don't have to tell anyone that I was concerned, needlessly concerned, about the sheriff, right, Doug? And the muffin for Minnie is on me today," she said with what she hoped was a casual tone, backing away toward the register.

"Thanks kindly, Lillian."

"And the usual for breakfast, right?"

"The usual. Some morning I'll have something different." He shook out his newspaper. "But not today."

CHAPTER 5 -- Ghosts and burdens

Lillian was standing behind the cash register at 6:15 when the door opened, the bell rang, and the sheriff came in. His shoes were just as polished as always; his uniform creases were just as sharp as always; and his face was shaved as smooth as always. But he looked tired. Lillian would never have forgiven him if he had looked cocky or casual, but he looked... peaceful, maybe relieved. He stopped in the doorway and blinked. On the counter next to the register was his usual breakfast, with steam rising invitingly from the coffee cup and the eggs on the plate. He sat down and smiled faintly. "Thanks, Lil."

"That's Lillian - Cameron," she said automatically, carefully studying his face as he started to eat. She didn't want to encourage him, she really didn't, but for the first time she wondered what drove him through life. "I hear that you are trying to put the ambulance crews out of business."

He swallowed carefully, and spoke softly, distantly, without looking at her. "My company was responsible for guarding a group a villages in Afghanistan. Little more than clumps of stone and timber huts. People poorer than dirt, but if they had one slice of bread, they'd give you half. A Taliban raid got through because we ran short of batteries for the night vision gear. They beheaded a man in front of his family for allowing his oldest daughter to go to the Coalition school to learn to read and write, and for letting his wife vote. One of them had hacked off one of the oldest daughter's legs and was about to hack off the other when I shot him in the back. I shot him til he stopped moving. I put a tourniquet on the girl and called for helicopter evac. She died on the way to the field hospital." He picked up the coffee cup, blew on it, and said with quiet intensity, "I'm responsible for this village now. And this girl got to the hospital in time." He took a sip of coffee which must have been just below the boiling point, but he didn't even flinch. "Maybe I won't have as many bad dreams tonight." He took another bite of eggs, grunted, swallowed, and said, "The eggs are great this morning. Give Judy my compliments, okay?"

"Sure," Lillian managed to say as she moved to help Adele take the morning orders.

Ten minutes later, as the sheriff was finishing up, Lillian made a point of being back by the register.

"The theater has a new movie tonight. Would you be interested in seeing if I's any good with me?" he ventured, not looking at her.

"No," she responded, then added,. "But thanks for asking.". Then as the sheriff pulled out his wallet, she added, "I need to help Judy in the kitchen. See you for lunch." With that she turned and walked into the kitchen. She waited ten seconds, counting each one carefully, then turned and looked out through the small, round window in the door. The patrol car was backing out, and the vase now contained a single turquoise-colored flower she had never seen before. Part of her conscious scolded her heart, grumbling that she shouldn't encourage him; that he was a terrible irritation in a life that had been just fine before he came. Another part of her rubbed at a sudden, leaden ache in her chest, and observed with a trace of regret that everyone had their scars and ghosts, and being decent made them easier to bear sometimes.

"Coming through," Adele called sourly as she bustled up behind Lillian with her arms full of plates.

CHAPTER 6 -- Town business

The Town Council meeting that night was quite noteworthy. Meetings were, generally, informal, though Mayor Jim Horner did his best to follow Robert's Rules. Tonight the only one not on the council who had showed up was old Mrs. Sturtevant, who always brought her knitting and some oatmeal raisin cookies made to some recipe which would die when she did, a culinary tragedy which would be appreciated only by those who had ever tasted them - the plate always went home empty. She acted like a council member, and wasn't one simply because running for election was too much trouble and she would feel poorly about displacing someone else.

"Does anyone have any other business to go over before we adjourn for refreshments?" the mayor asked, with an obvious undertone of unsatisfied appetite.

Mrs. Sturtevant cleared her throat without looking up from her knitting.

The mayor raised an eyebrow and said, "The chair recognizes Mrs. Sturtevant."

Mrs. Sturtevant didn't look up, for all the world looking like she was talking to her knitting. "I wanted to talk about our new sheriff, mayor."

There was a stir on the city council.

"Is there a problem with the sheriff?"

"Oh, no. Quite the opposite. He has been well received by everyone. In two months it's like he's been here his entire life. He is very helpful, respectful, and makes many positive contributions to our community."

"Plus he gives you a ride to your appointment at Doc's every Tuesday morning and holds all the doors," muttered one of the hungrier council members.

"I heard that, Horace," she said, primly, and with no rancor. The rest of the council chuckled. "His much appreciated courtesy to our senior citizens aside, he has become a valued member of the church choir." No council member made any quiet remarks at this observation; Mrs. Sturtevant's late husband had been the previous choir director and she had been the lead soloist - Mrs. Sturtevant took HER choir seriously. "And I doubt if there has been any volunteer activity in the last two months that he hasn't shown up for."

"Sounds as if he has the makings of an exemplary citizen and an example to us all," the judge noted a bit impatiently, eyeing the cookie plate on the seat of the chair next to Mrs. Sturtevant. He made a particular point of showing up to town events which involved food.

"My point exactly," Mrs. Sturtevant declared in great satisfaction. "And so was the sheriff over in Weston, for about a year, and then that city downstate stole him away."

Several council members nodded. Several sheriffs had been stolen away by impersonal, big city law enforcement over the last few decades. Larger salaries than semi-rural counties could afford were usually the reason.

The judge frowned at her. "Do you have reason to believe our sheriff has been given or is considering such an offer?"

A shake of her head set the council members more at ease, but she had an agenda and she wasn't about to let them off the hook, so she added, "Yet," in such an innocent, casual tone that the single word seemed as ominous as the word, 'Frankenstein.' After a long pause to let the implications sink in adequately, she continued. "By the time everyone finds out about it, it's probably too late to do anything." She paused to let the council members mull that thought thoroughly. "It seems to me that, once upon a time, the way to get a mobile man to set down some serious roots was to get him hitched to a dedicated local young woman."

Several of the women on the council nodded even more quickly than their male counterparts.

"Well, there is widow Kemper. Her boy, Tom, could use a good stepfather role model," the mayor suggested. Several council members nodded. Tom's harmless but annoying practical jokes were his way of getting attention since his dad had died.

Mrs. Sturtevant just murmured, "Tsk, tsk," and kept knitting. After a moment she added, "Judy is a vegetarian. A strict vegetarian. She keeps trying to give the poor sheriff eggplant parmigiana. He accepts them quite graciously, but I have it on good authority that he discreetly disposes of them. He does return the dishes, sparkling clean, the next day," she added approvingly.

Rose Tyler, grocery store assistant manager and town council member, spoke up. "Based on his shopping, he is a definite 'meat and potatoes' kind of man."

"Anyone who patronizes the diner knows that," the judge agreed. "There is Jodi Belson."

More clucking noises rolled off Mrs. Sturtevant's tongue. "Pretty Miss Belson has lots of relatives downstate, including her mother," the elderly woman sniffed disdainfully, "and her mother's second husband." Several council members nodded. That little episode had been the most scandalous bit of news about town in the last decade.

"Well, Sonya Michaels has been trying some serious flirting with the sheriff for the last several weeks. She's even put her kitten up the front tree, twice, poor animal, to get the man to come over. He very politely declined a rescuer's lunch each time. She is quite exasperated, poor thing."

Everyone sat quietly watching Mrs. Sturtevant like the family dog might wait for something to drop from the dinner table. Everyone also knew that Mrs. Sturtevant wouldn't have brought anything up if she didn't already have the solution she favored ready for the council to rubber stamp.

"Lillian Horner is the only girl our handsome, war hero sheriff has shown any interest in," Ted Kester noted. He had breakfast every morning at the diner, and had been getting there extra early for the last three weeks.

There was an uneasy stirring on the council. There were few, if any secrets, in Hollister. Everyone knew what had happened to Lillian. The damage to Doc's office had been noisy and obvious to a waiting room full of neighbors. The repairs required had been extensive, but no one blamed her. Everyone also knew that she had lost several interested beaus when the word spread; not that anyone blamed them either, human nature being what it was. They were all absolutely certain Mrs. Sturtevant knew about Lillian's... problem, and couldn't see where she was going.

"I have it on good authority the problem doesn't bother the sheriff, as good a man as he is; certainly better than some others I could name," she sniffed.

There was nearly a minute of silence as the community leadership wrestled with this particular revelation.

"He apparently can't find a way to bring the point up in casual conversation, and Lillian has been obstinately ignoring well-meaning hints from, oh, just about everyone." She rummaged in her basket a moment. The jostling disturbed the plate of cookies, which started to slide toward a messy rendezvous with the floor. Two council members started to call out a warning. Mrs. Sturtevant caught them and returned them to a safe perch, while still rummaging in her basket. She had each council member's horrified attention. She must be deadly serious about this.

"If they could just have a quiet little private chat with Lillian not so prickly self-conscious and the sheriff being, well, a typically amorous male, it might just work out in the best interests of our community."

"So, how do we get them together long enough to see if they can make a go of it?" the mayor prodded.

"Leave that to me," said the judge, impatiently, "now pass the cookie plate... please."

CHAPTER 7 -- Judicial intervention

"You wanted to see me judge?" Cam said, taking off his hat as he entered the hardware store. It was early afternoon and he had gotten the judge's message after he had finished teaching his DARE lesson at the elementary school.

"Yes, I did sheriff, in our official capacities." The judge was dressed in overalls and faded shirt like any small town, third generation hardware store owner, which was what he was, but even then he managed to carry himself with the dignity of the judicial bench.

"Yes, sir." Cam was a bit puzzled, and raised an eyebrow.

"There have been a number of fine, upstanding citizens who have remarked to me that they don't feel entirely safe traveling on and along our shady, peaceable streets."

Cam's eyebrows knit in surprise. "I haven't had any complaints, judge. And there haven't been any 'Letters to the Editor' in the paper on it. Is there someone in particular that is having a problem or causing a problem?"

The judge shook his head. "No one in particular. But excessive speed has been mentioned frequently." The judge nodded to Mrs. Hanley as she bustled by to get her usual allotment of Miracle Gro. "So, sheriff, I want you to stake out the south end of main street on the town limits, no later than 5:30 am tomorrow morning, and ticket any one and every one exceeding the speed limit."

"But judge...," Cam started, his tone alarmed.

"But me no buts, son. You are a law enforcement officer, and I am the local judiciary requiring you to enforce the law. And no letting anyone off with warnings. A citation and traffic appearance will teach scofflaws a lesson and reassure the law-abiding citizens that their safety is being guarded tirelessly. Got that?"

"Yes, judge," Cam said wearily, putting his hat back on and turning to go. On the whole he'd rather be back in Afghanistan. He was not looking forward to this and wondering what he had done to deserve it.

The next afternoon, Lillian strode into the meeting room at the back of the town hall, which currently had its court trappings set up, and stomped down the aisle. There was a table on a raised dais at the front and a small table to the side with Gladys Jefferies, the town clerk and assistant animal control officer sitting at a word processor, currently serving the role of court recorder. The judge was at the head table armed with a gavel and going through an impressive pile of papers. There were two dozen folding chairs set up. The sheriff had arrived before her and was sitting in the back row, his back straight and stiff. She spared him not a glance and went to the very front row, sat down with a pointed thump, and crossed her arms.