The Surge Page 5

  No, there was no forgiveness in his heart for her. She had been so selfish. She had hurt all of them. He wasn't going to let her do it again.

  Josh sighed and looked at his phone. This was a good day. Joanna wasn't going to ruin it. He'd have to deal with her later. Now, he needed something to eat. Josh suffered from low blood sugar and was known to get a little hangry from time to time. Not that he would get angry, per se, Josh never dared to show anger and risk upsetting other people. No, but he would grumble and get annoyed with even little things. Once, he even broke down and cried in the car from it. At least that was what he had told Irene it was when she found him in their driveway still sitting behind the wheel half an hour after he had parked the car. He had promised Irene he wasn't going to let it happen anymore. It wasn't good for anyone.

  Josh exited the car and walked to the front door of the grill. He tried hard not to do it, but couldn't help himself from gazing in the direction of the inn as he grabbed the handle and went inside.

  "Josh!"

  Miss Trudy was yelling from the other side of the diner. She was pouring coffee in Mayor Stephenson's cup. The mayor thanked her and Miss Trudy approached Josh. "Sit where you want, honey. I'll get you your brisket."

  She winked and Josh sat down in a booth. She poured him coffee and he ordered a Dr. Pepper.

  "Comin' right up, hon," she said with another wink, then left.

  Josh sat quietly while shredding one napkin after another into narrow strips. The strips fluttered to the table while his eyes stared blankly out the window in the direction of the inn.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Ridge Manor, Florida

  "So, what are you gonna do?"

  Wayne looked at Joanna across the table. He had cooked again. Grouper and fried shrimp. It had been a long time since he had cooked this much. But there was something about having Joanna and her daughter in the house that made Sheriff Wayne want to cook again.

  "You mean with the inn?"

  Joanna looked at her daughter, who was humming while she ate. It was a thing she did, her mother had told Wayne and then told him to not pay attention to it. She couldn't help it. He wanted to tell her he liked it, he enjoyed the girl's humming while eating more than anything, but the words never left his lips.

  Joanna shrugged. "I don't know. I'll probably have to sell it."

  The humming stopped. Ellie Mae's big eyes were on her mother. "What?"

  Joanna dropped her fork on her plate and grabbed her daughter's hand. "Sweetie. I need thousands of dollars to fix the place up. I don't have that. And where would we live while it was being fixed?"

  "We could live here," Ellie Mae said.

  You could live here, Wayne thought to himself. He didn't dare to say it out loud, but he really meant it.

  "No," Joanna said. "Poor Sheriff Wayne has been very good to us, but we can't overstay our welcome."

  "Pleeease?" Ellie Mae continued.

  Pleeeaaase, Wayne thought.

  Joanna looked at him. "It's been awfully nice of you to take us in like this tonight again. I promise that tomorrow we'll be out of your hair."

  "No," Ellie Mae said and crossed her arms in front of her chest. "I’m not going anywhere."

  I won't let you go anywhere, Wayne thought.

  He was glad he hadn't said it out loud since he just now realized how creepy it sounded. But he meant it. He felt like begging them to stay, but he knew it would only scare Joanna away.

  "It's okay," he said.

  "I'll put the inn up for sale tomorrow and then we'll look for somewhere else to live, so you won't have to deal with us in your house anymore. That's the way it's gonna be, end of story; now, eat your food, Ellie Mae."

  Ellie Mae grunted angrily. "I'm not hungry anymore."

  "Now, don't be rude to Wayne. He’s cooked this nice meal for us. This is not how we thank him, is it?"

  I'm not hungry anymore either, Wayne thought.

  Ellie Mae made another loud grunt, then got up, shouting, "I hate you," and stormed out, slamming the door behind her.

  Joanna looked at Wayne. "I'm so sorry. Losing her dad and the move and everything…it's been a little much on her."

  He wanted to cry too; he wanted to yell too and slam the door. He wanted to tell her that they could just stay, that it really was no problem, but he didn't dare to. Lydia had left him because he scared her away after Arlene's disappearance. She thought he was mad as a raven and often he feared she was right. He didn't want to scare Joanna the same way.

  "I'm sure she'll be fine," he said instead while cursing himself for being such a coward.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Ridge Manor, Florida

  "What's with that old phone on your wall?"

  Joanna looked at Wayne. They were in his office because Wayne was trying to find his notebook where he had the phone number of the local real estate agent. Joanna didn't know that anyone even used notebooks anymore and had suggested she simply google it, but Wayne had insisted on finding it.

  "That old thing? Used to be my great-grandfather's as far as I have been told. It's a collectible. Antique."

  Joanna walked closer to it and studied it. "It's beautiful. I have never seen one of these old phones before; does it work?"

  Wayne shook his head and gave a brusque answer. "Nope."

  "So, how do you even talk on it? You talk in this weird thing here and then hold this pipe thingy to your ear or what?"

  He shrugged. "I guess."

  "You mean you have never tried to talk on it? Not even pretended?"

  He swallowed. "I know this notebook is here somewhere."

  "I need to have a picture of this," Joanna said and pulled out her cell. "Can you believe the world has gone from that to this?" She laughed and held up her phone while taking a picture.

  "No," he chuckled awkwardly. "We sure have come a long way."

  "If only cars had developed as fast, then we would be flying around by now, wouldn't we?"

  "I bet we will soon enough," Wayne said and showed her the black notebook. "Found it. Let's go."

  Joanna scrutinized him. He spoke fast, almost rapping his words. He seemed so uncertain all of a sudden. Was he uncomfortable around her?

  "Say, are you sure this phone doesn’t work?"

  "Oh, yes, one hundred percent. It's not even plugged in. I wouldn't even know how to plug it in."

  "That's odd," she said.

  "What is?"

  "I just…well, I could have sworn I heard it ring last night. Just after midnight. I heard a phone ring from in here and, as far as I can see, it's the only phone in here." Joanna turned and looked at the desk. There was an old stationary computer there, but no other phone.

  "You probably dreamed it. Let's go back in the kitchen and call Eleanor." He tried to keep his voice even, but she could detect a slight shiver.

  "Eleanor?"

  "The real estate agent. To sell your inn."

  "Oh, yes, of course, I'm sorry," Joanna said, feeling confused.

  Could it have been something she dreamt? Hardly. She never slept much nor did she dream much. Except about Jack. And it didn't feel anything like a dream. As a matter of fact, it felt very much like it had happened. Plus, she had heard him walk in to pick up the phone and she was one hundred percent sure she heard him talk. Why was he denying it? He could just say he had left his cell phone in there and that's what she heard. That would be a very reasonable explanation.

  She shook her head and followed him back to the kitchen, deciding to let it go. It really wasn't her business anyway.

  Chapter Twenty

  Ridge Manor, Florida

  Joanna sat on the porch for an hour or so after Wayne had gone to bed, drinking the vodka she had bought at the drugstore earlier in the day. Just two glasses were usually enough to knock her out. She needed it and felt she was allowed to drink. Worrying about her future made her stomach churn and emotions welled up in her that she didn't want anyone to see.

  Fact wa
s, she was terrified of the future. Where was she to go? Where should she live? How would she pay for food? What if she couldn't sell the inn?

  It would be easier if it was only her and not her and Ellie Mae. She had to feed the poor girl and that required making a living. Ever since the idea of opening the inn had crashed, Joanna had realized there probably only was one way out. After selling the inn, she had to go somewhere else, find a small place to live, and then go back to waitressing. She had done it a lot when Ellie Mae was younger before the bars around Savannah started paying her money to perform with her guitar.

  If only she could get back to playing, then maybe she could get paying gigs again. If only. It wasn't much money they paid her, but it would be better than waitressing. Anything was better than waitressing. Joanna had never been very good with people and especially not with being treated badly by people who paid her scraps. She had a history of getting fired again and again for talking back to them when they were being rude. It wasn't going to be easy.

  Joanna looked at the guitar. She had brought it with her outside with the intention of playing it, but so far it had only stared at her from the wall.

  Finally, she picked it up and ran her fingers across the strings. She was breathing heavily when doing it and could feel her heart rate go up rapidly.

  Calm down, Joanna. Calm yourself down. You've got this. You can do it. It's what you love to do. It's what you were born to do.

  Joanna closed her eyes and tried to imagine sitting on a stage somewhere, people waiting for her, expecting her to blow them away. And she usually did. She really did. If only she could…

  Joanna opened her eyes as the panic spread. Her hands were shaking so badly she couldn't hold them still enough to play. Her heart was pounding in her chest, the sound of the blood rushing through her veins drowning out everything else, making it impossible for her to hear herself. Her mouth was dry, so dry she couldn't mutter a word.

  Joanna put the guitar down, curled up on the swing, head on her knees, and cried.

  Why, Jack. Why?

  It was while sitting like this that she suddenly heard the phone ring again. She looked at her watch. Precisely at a quarter past midnight just like the night before.

  Joanna wiped her eyes dry, then snuck inside when she saw light coming out of the office. The door was slightly ajar and she could peek inside, just enough to see Wayne by the phone on the wall, the earpiece in his hand, holding it close to his ear, then speaking into the black mouthpiece.

  It does work. I knew it!

  But why was he lying? Why wouldn't he tell her that it worked? Why did he lie about it ringing? It was all very strange.

  "What did you say?" she heard him say. Then he went completely quiet. A minute or so later, he continued, sounding even more agitated:

  "You can't be serious? How? Why…I mean…I don't believe this."

  Joanna bit her lip as she listened to him talk, his voice sounding more and more desperate. She felt so confused and suddenly realized she was violating his privacy. Deciding she wasn't going to let him know about this, that it wasn't any of her business who he talked to on that weird phone in the middle of the night, she snuck into her room, just in time to hear him hang up on the other side of the wall.

  After that followed a lot of outbursts:

  "Oh, God. Oh, dear God, what do we do?"

  She could hear he was walking back and forth in there. She wondered if she should go in and ask him if he was all right, but by the time she reached a conclusion, she heard the front door slam shut.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Ridge Manor, Florida

  Mayor Mary Stephenson heaved a deep sigh. She was tired. Tired of being the mayor of a town with next to no budget to work with. It was an exhausting job and she was only paid five hundred dollars a month to do it. It was fair to say that she wasn't in it for the money. When you counted all the commissioner meetings she had to attend, and all the extra hours she had to put into paperwork alone in taking care of this town, she had calculated that she actually lost fifty dollars a day doing it.

  But she did it anyway and had done it for more than twenty-five years. She loved Ridge Manor and liked to take care of the town. But it was no wonder that no one else ran against her in the elections.

  Besides, she had a job to fulfill as vice-president of their one and only bank, the Sunrise Credit Union, on the side as well. It was too much for her.

  Luckily, she never had any children. Otherwise, she was certain they would have suffered from her absence. Mary could never have any children and so she busied herself taking care of her citizens instead. But, as she was approaching sixty-five, she was starting to get tired of working so much. She dreamt of retiring one day soon and then devoting her life to her great passion, her dolls.

  Mary's entire living room was packed with them. They were just sitting there on the shelves, hundreds of them, their eyes staring blankly at her like they were waiting for her to take care of them. In the corner, she had her sewing machine, where she would sew new outfits for them. She had bought fabric enough for at least a hundred dresses. But for now, it was all just gathering dust. And it had been for a very long time.

  "Later, my babies," she mumbled as she turned out the lights in the living room and left the dolls in total darkness.

  She looked at the old grandfather clock in the hallway and yawned when she realized it was almost twenty-five minutes past midnight. It had become this bad habit of hers to stay up way too late working. She had promised herself to go to bed earlier, but it was like there simply weren't enough hours in the day.

  Mary Stephenson went to the bathroom and put toothpaste on her brush. She turned on the button for her electric toothbrush when she heard the well-known sound of a car entering her driveway. Its headlights lit up the hall as she peeked out from the bathroom.

  "What in tarnation…?"

  Mary put her toothbrush down, washed her mouth and spat, then dried her face as the doorbell rang, aggressively. The ringing wouldn't stop. Someone was holding the button down and not letting go.

  "Easy, now," she mumbled. "I’m coming. I’m coming. Geez."

  She peeked out the window before she grabbed the door handle and swung the heavy wooden front door open.

  "Sheriff Wayne?"

  Wayne took off his hat and held it between his hands. His right eye was twitching. He seemed confused and out of sorts.

  "Mayor."

  "What on earth are you doing here at this hour? This better be good, Sheriff. It better be very good."

  Sheriff Wayne wiped sweat off his forehead with his sleeve. His eyes were big and fearful.

  "I am afraid I have some bad news," he said, sounding like he was at a loss for words, which was very unlike him. He shook his head. "No, that's putting it too mildly. I have terrifying news. Can I come in?"

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Ridge Manor, Florida

  Sheriff Wayne's hands were shaking as he sat down in the big chair in Mary's office, where she usually sat when reading. She brought him a glass of water, hoping it would calm him down. He didn't touch it, merely stared at her, eyes wide and mouth open, his skin paler than the wall behind him.

  She sat behind the desk, folded her hands, and nodded. "Okay, Wayne. What's going on?"

  His nostrils were flaring, his eye twitching, and he was breathing so heavy, it made Mary feel quite uncomfortable.

  "Wayne?"

  "I…I…to be honest, I don't know how to tell you this," he finally managed to say.

  "It's late, Wayne. Just say it. I'm a big girl. I think I can handle it. I have been on this Earth for many years and have experienced a little of everything as the mayor of this town."

  He shook his head. His eyes locked with hers. There was something in them she had never seen in his eyes before. A fear, almost a desperation that she feared bordered on madness.

  "Not this," he said. "You've never been through anything like this, Mary. Nothing like it."


  She sighed and leaned back in her chair, hands crossed over her chest. This was getting old. She really wanted to go to bed and not spend time waiting for him to say whatever it was he wanted to tell her.

  This was Ridge Manor. How bad could it be? The worst that ever happened in this town was when Old Mrs. Morrison, Doug's wife, died falling from the roof, where she was trying to fix the tiles after a storm, the same tiles she had asked Doug to fix so many times she had grown sick of waiting and decided to do it herself. Seeing her splattered all over the sidewalk was the worst thing Mary could remember happening. That, and Arlene’s disappearance of course. There was also the fire at the hardware store twenty years ago, but no one had been hurt then. There was, of course, the disappearance of Mrs. Johnson, who probably just ran away from her drunk husband. But that had been quite a mess for a little while when they all thought Mr. Johnson had killed her. Oh, yeah, there was also the story of Joanna. That had been tough for all of them, especially Mary, since Martha Pattison was her best friend and seeing her destroyed like that was devastating.

  "Does it have anything to do with Joanna Pattison? I hear she has been living with you."

  "No, no. Nothing to do with her. Nothing at all. It has to do with all of us. This entire town."