“Well, Ben, you got any news for me about the vandalism?” Mac inquired as they walked along the bluffs near the construction company offices. He had spent the last few weeks thinking about ways to trap this guy, but nothing was working. Nothing new came to mind. Well, nothing except Dixie. She was on his mind constantly. He couldn’t eat. He couldn’t sleep. He couldn’t think. And he didn’t really know what the hell to do about it.
“Nope, no new leads - I’m sorry Mac. But I did come to talk to you about something.” Ben hitched up his pants and took a deep breath as he looked out toward the Mississippi River sparkling in the midday sun. “The way I see it, son, Dixie’s a lot like this here old river. Usually, she’s calm as you please.”
Mac looked at him in astonishment. “Are we talking about Dixie Harris?”
“Hush up and let me finish. Now where was I? Oh yes. She’s as calm as you please, but underneath, there’s a strong current of passions. Suddenly a storm whips up, and she unleashes her fury, only to subside, leaving devastation in her wake. But once the river’s in your blood, boy, you can’t live without her.”
Mac stared open mouthed at Ben, trying to judge if he was serious. By the earnest expression on the old man’s face, he apparently was. Mac didn’t know how to respond. He wasn’t sure he even understood it correctly. “That’s, um, very profound, Ben.” Mac tried to keep a straight face.
To his surprise, the old man actually blushed. Adjusting his glasses, Ben stammered, “Well, me and the missus are taking one of them creative writing courses. She thinks I should get in touch with my feminine side.” He harrumphed and winked at Mac. “Of course I told her that seeing she’s my better half, she was my feminine side and if she wanted me to touch her, then just give a holler.” He smiled and his eyes twinkled.
Mac grinned and shook his head. The old guy was giving him advice on his love life. Well, he had been married for over forty years. “You are truly a Renaissance man, Ben.”
Ben grinned and slapped Mac on the back. “Ain’t it the truth, son. Ain’t it the truth.”
Two days later, Mac was sitting at his mother’s table, tasting pies and trying not to think about Dixie. The kitchen was laden with dirty dishes, as Ginny was trying out different recipes and variations of recipes for the cookbook she wanted to feature in the general store. Tonight was Mac’s night to play guinea pig.
“This was sent by special messenger for you today, dear,” Ginny Coalson handed Mac the folded sheet of paper with a gleam in her eyes.
He threw his mother a puzzled look and sat down at the kitchen table to read it as she placed a piece of strawberry pie in front of him.
Dear Mstr Colsun, you say sorry to Miz Dixie for hurtn her feellands…
Mac read the note again to make sure he had understood it. Then he looked up at his mother, standing at the kitchen stove with a smug look on her face. “Who delivered this?”
“A young man, about seven years old. Now, aren’t you ashamed of yourself? You’ve got the entire school worried about her. It’s bad enough she just lost her grandfather, now you’ve broken her heart. I’m very disappointed in you, Mackenzie Coalson.” She set a cup of coffee next to the pie. “You march right over there, and you fix it. It’s obvious she’s a good girl. She wouldn’t have their support if she wasn’t. Children are inherently honest.”
“Now wait just a damn minute! I was ready to explain to her that night, but she wouldn’t listen. And then she called me everything but a man in front of a street full of people. And how do you even know she’s sad because of our argument? Maybe her goldfish died or something.” Mac tucked into his strawberry pie with a vengeance, then took a swallow of scalding hot coffee. “And another thing, how the hell do you know she’s a good girl? She’d be the first to tell you, she’s not a girl, she’s a woman. Besides, you’ve never met her. And her grandfather passing, how’d you even know about that?”
He wiped his mouth and held up his hand. “No, don’t tell me. I’ve got a pretty damn good idea. The local grapevine has been working overtime, hasn’t it? Well, you can tell all those old biddies down at the parlor to mind their own damn business.” He stood up and sat his dishes in the sink. “That pie was the best one so far. Put it in your book,” he growled. He started to walk out the door.
“Now you hold on one minute, buddy. Number one, you do not curse in this house. Number two, this letter was not written by some old biddies, it was written by innocent children and you owe them an explanation. And number three, I love you, but as your mother I’m gonna tell you that you are acting like a horse’s ass.” She rounded on him. “You say Dixie’s got a temper, well, so do you. But if you love that girl or even like her a lot, you’ve got to figure out a way for the two of you to live together without tearing each other apart.”
“And just how do I do that, Mom? Just let her walk all over me?” Mac argued.
“You start by making her listen. And then you tell her what your feelings are and ask if she feels the same. And then if she does, set down some rules about honesty and about jumping to conclusions. And then you get married and have babies,” Ginny Coalson finished softly as she walked over to hug her oldest son.
“And what if she says no?” He pushed the question past the lump in his throat as he returned her embrace.
“She won’t,” Ginny promised as she kissed him on the cheek then pointed to the letter still lying on the table. “That letter proves she’s just as miserable without you as you are without her.”
*****
Mac hit the intercom on his desk to ask Dottie for some coffee, but heard Jamie’s voice instead.
“Dottie? I need an appointment,” Jamie fiddled with the collar of his shirt.
Mac’s secretary looked up from her typing. Since she’d been the recipient of her fair share of Mac’s foul moods, she was more than happy to oblige. “You talking business or Dixie?”
“I’m sick and tired of watching Dixie mope around the house. She’s lost weight. She’s moody. She is, generally speaking, a total pain in the ass. And I’m sick and tired of hearing Mac snap at everyone. The whole place is walking on eggshells around him. Not to mention the fact that Mac looks like death and it isn’t because of the long hours he’s putting in.” Jamie took a breath then continued, “But most of all, I’m sick and tired of answering all the questions about the two of them, and then asking the questions the two of them ask about each other while trying to act as if they don’t care. It’s making me crazy.”
“You know he would never act this way unless he was deeply hurt… or deeply in love. And since he’s too stubborn to admit either one, I’m going to help him. You are going to make sure this little meeting between the two of you clears the air and helps the romance along, you understand?” She ran her fingers down her scheduling book. “Let’s see… how about right now?” She smiled up at Jamie.
“Now?” He squeaked. “I thought I’d have a little more time to prepare, to think things through…”
“To talk yourself out of it?” Dottie smiled. “No time like the present, I always say.”
Mac heard her chair squeak and released the intercom button. Aww, hell.
Dottie poked her head in. “You have a visitor.”
Mac didn’t even look up. “It’s not on my calendar,” he rumbled.
“Then I guess I forgot to write it in. Sorry,” she said sweetly as she ushered Jamie in. “Good luck,” she whispered as she closed the door.
Mac groaned inwardly and gestured for Jamie to take a seat. He knew what was coming. Since the fight, Mac had been interrogated by the entire town. Everyone had an opinion on how to rectify the situation and bring them back together. Apparently, this was yet another person intent on putting in his two cents worth.
“Mac, er.” Jamie cleared his throat, then began speaking rapidly as he stared at the carpet. “We need to talk. I want to know just what went on between you and my sister. Although I know it’s not my business, I’m making it my business. I’m tired of coming home and listening to Dixie cry herself to sleep and to be truthful, we’re all getting a little tired of tiptoeing around your temper. I don’t know all the details, but I do know that you’re both miserable and I think you should talk about it.” He finished his little speech, and then dared to peek at Mac to gauge his reaction.
“Talk about it? I’ve tried talking about it to the only other person that’s directly involved in this debacle, but she’s not talking to me. I tried sending flowers, but she apparently overturned the vase and dumped the contents on the florist’s shoes, which I felt obliged to reimburse him for, by the way.” He took a deep breath and continued. “I could confront her at the grade school, but making any kind of declaration in front of thirty children wasn’t exactly what I had in mind. And I don’t think they’d like to see her temper at the school. I can’t think of any other solutions. So unless you’ve got some grand ideas, just get the hell out of my office.”
Mac needed to get Dixie alone, somewhere private, where he could explain the situation to her calmly. Where he could take her in his arms and declare his love. Where he could spank the living daylights out of her for giving him so much grief over the past three weeks.
“Yeah, I heard about the flowers,” Jamie grinned. “You could always sneak up behind her and truss her up. Then she’d have to sit and listen to you.”
Mac cracked a smile for the first time in weeks at the mental picture of Dixie bound and gagged and furious, blue fire flashing from her eyes. “It’s a tempting thought, but I hope it doesn’t come down to that. Any other suggestions?” He didn’t want to fight. He just wanted to have her back in his life, because he was definitely in love with that hot tempered woman. It was as simple as that. “Have a seat, Jamie. I need an idea, preferably one that doesn’t involve ropes and gags. Well, at least not right now.”
“I don’t need to hear that, okay?” Jamie groaned. “You know this means I’m going to be disqualified from the bet at Montana Max’s saloon.”
Mac’s eyes narrowed. “And what bet is that?”
“The one about who’s going to apologize first, you or Dixie.” Jamie’s eyes twinkled. “The whole town’s in on it, you know.”
“And just who started the bet, if I may ask?”
“Chance did, I think. Or maybe it was Nick or could’ve been Lucky. I’m not sure.” Jamie paused.
Mac buried his head in his hands and groaned. “Good Lord, what next?”
*****
Across town, Dixie was finishing up with the kindergarten “Show and Tell”. Jason Cranston was last to bring up his object. “Okay Jason, what do you have for us today?” She smiled up at him.
He was a handsome boy with chestnut hair and green eyes. He was also very shy because he tended to stutter if he got excited. Her patience with this issue had been amply paid off in her mind. Jason’s stutter was less pronounced, and his self-esteem had improved markedly since she had taken her free time to help him with his speech. The closest speech therapist was thirty miles away in Alton, and his parents had no way to get him there.
Slowly, Jason made his way up to the front of the class. He paused with his chin down to his chest, peaking at her from behind his lashes. Dixie noticed that he appeared to be very excited about his objects, but the fear of stuttering was making him wary of showing his possessions. He was such an impressionable child and this was a big moment for him. If the other children laughed or giggled, Dixie knew his self-esteem would receive a stunning blow. However, a victory today could be the impetus needed for Jason to conquer the speech impediment.
“Come on, Jason,” Dixie coaxed quietly, “the kids are waiting to see what you brought today. I bet it’s something exciting. Is it too heavy? Your arms seem to be straining. Do you want me to help you take it out of the bag so you can show us?” She smiled encouragingly and lifted her hands to help.
Jason shook his head then reached inside the bag to pull out his surprise. He was shuffling his feet in eagerness. It looked like he would definitely overcome his shyness. But as Jason revealed his surprise, the color drained from Dixie’s face.
“Oh my God! Jason, honey, be careful. Where did you get that?” Dixie whispered as she stared in horror at the pistol the little boy was holding in front of him. He was pointing it straight at the class and the children began to scream. He flinched at the sound and swung the pistol toward her. He looked confused by the children’s reaction, then his eyes began to fill with tears and his lower lip quivered.
“Jason, listen to me. Please lower the gun and sit it gently on the floor.” Dixie was trying desperately not to look down the barrel of the gun pointed at her chest. “Children, stop screaming please. You’re frightening him.”
Dixie couldn’t keep the fear out of her voice, and the children’s frantic cries increased. Jason was responding to the pandemonium around him. He was crying in earnest and flinging the gun back and forth, back and forth, trying to dislodge it from his hand, but his finger was curved around the trigger.
Dixie continued to try and calm the children even as the gun barrel wavered at various points on her body. The children began running for the door and spilling onto the hall. She was terrified one of them would run into Jason’s line of fire. A part of her wanted to help Jason, to remove the gun from his grasp, but she couldn’t move. Her legs refused to obey. She just continued to talk to the frightened boy.
Suddenly, the principal arrived in the doorway, having heard the commotion down the hall. Taking in the situation at a glance, he flung himself at the frightened boy. “Jason, stop!”
The child jumped at his words and the gun discharged.
Everything happened in slow motion for her, a horrifying moment she knew she would remember forever. Dixie heard the report of the gun as an invisible hand slammed into her shoulder, knocking her to the floor. A terrible burning ran down her arm and she saw blood spurting everywhere. She turned her head to locate the cause of the blood flow, realizing with dread that someone had been shot.
“Dixie!” She heard the principal scream her name.
Her whole body was trembling as she tried to answer. She moved and a wave of dizziness caught her unaware. She closed her eyes and attempted to refocus. When she opened them again, she noticed Jason weeping next to her. She was on the floor. The children who remained in the room were sobbing as they stared at her, but their voices were fuzzy and distorted. She again tried to comfort them with words, but her mouth wouldn’t work properly. As one child pointed to her, she glanced down, terrifyingly aware that now the blood had come from her.
“Thank God it wasn’t one of the children,” she murmured as the world began to spin uncontrollably, sending her careening into a black void.
*****
Mac and Jamie were still in discussion about the best way to manage Dixie, when the door burst open and Dottie, Chance, and Brandon raced in.
“What is it Dottie?” Mac said as he ran around the desk. He could tell she was horrified. “Have the vandals struck again?”
“There’s been a shooting at the school,” Dottie whispered as she grabbed Mac’s arm. “Dixie’s been hit. The paramedics are with her now. They want Jamie to meet them at the hospital.”
Mac’s mind was reeling. Dixie was hurt. She could be dying. No, don’t think like that. “How bad?” he rasped out as he searched frantically for his keys.
“They won’t give me any other information. Jamie, I’m so sorry.” She began sobbing quietly into her handkerchief.
Brandon handed Mac his keys. “I’ll take care of everything here. Go!” With a curt nod of thanks, Mac and Jamie raced to the truck and jumped in. They were on their way to the Alton Trauma Center within seconds.
Neither man said anything as they drove down the highway, each lost in their own torment. Silent tears coursed down Jamie’s face. Mac noticed the boy’s grip on the armrest would probably leave dents in the leather.
Mac clinched the steering will fiercely and pushed the gas pedal to the floor, willing the truck to go faster, faster. Please God, don’t let her die. Not when I’ve realized how much I love her, how much I need her in my life. She makes me whole and keeps me alive.
The two men arrived at the emergency room in record time, only to be greeted by a nurse with a handful of papers for Jamie to sign. She could tell them nothing about Dixie’s condition except that the doctor would be in shortly to talk to them.
The doctor arrived a few minutes later. He was a small man with a balding head and large glasses. He walked with a confident stride, and as he drew near, Mac noticed his deep brown eyes. Compassion and intelligence, along with a hefty dose of tiredness, gleamed from their depths. Dixie was in good hands.
Mac stood up as the doctor approached. He would have to take the interview and provide any information the doctor needed. After one glance at Jamie’s pale countenance, he knew he wasn’t in any condition to offer help or to ask proper questions.
“Relatives of Dixie Harris?” At Mac’s nod, he continued. “Your wife is stable, Mr. Harris, but she’s lost a lot of blood. The bullet entered into her pectoral muscle in her right shoulder and lodged in her collarbone. It will need to be removed, of course. We’re prepping her now, and as soon as the operation is over, I’ll contact you.” He nodded once then hurried back toward the swinging doors marked no admittance. In his overwhelming concern for Dixie, Mac hadn’t even bothered to correct the doctor’s assumption that he was her husband. So be it. It was just a formality as far as he was concerned.
Mac was intensely relieved that she was still alive, but the idea of surgery scared him all over again. She had lost a lot of blood. That thought made him ill as he imagined her pain. He glanced at Jamie. His fears were echoed on the young man’s face.
“What do we do now, Mac? I didn’t even know her blood type,” Jamie murmured.
“Now, we wait,” Mac said softly as he put his arms around the shoulders of the young man he had come to know and like over the past few weeks.
Together they sat in silence and watched the clock. And prayed.