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Shadow Dancing

By Jennifer Sienes

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Chapter One

Rebekah
The memory was like a whisper that somehow found its way through the cacophony of the predawn morning. Instead of allowing it to take hold, I focused on the obnoxious thrum of the katydids, the sweet song of the awakening birds, and the tinkle of the wind chimes that hung outside my open window. The same breeze that put the chimes in motion rustled through the leaves of the old cottonwood tree that shaded my bedroom in the late afternoons. Rather than allow my mind to dwell on more recent events, I pictured myself swinging beneath that ol’ tree as Daddy propelled me higher and higher.
If only I could hide away in a dream state long enough to get past this first anniversary. It was humiliating enough to be living at home again, but I couldn’t cotton to having Mama and Daddy worrying I’d collapse from grief like a Victorian lady with the vapors.
I pushed the sheet aside and climbed from bed, my thin t-shirt sticky against my back. The room was bathed in darkness which brought some comfort. I’d always preferred dark to light. Best not to think too hard on what that meant for my spiritual health.
I raised the window higher to allow the breeze to cool my body and searched the shadows for the birds that were serenading the dawn. Although I’d been wrestling with God for near a year, the quote from Tagore came to mind—“Faith is the bird that feels the light and sings when dawn is still dark.” When once those words brought hope, they now seemed hollow and trite.
Dressed in a fresh t-shirt and jeans, hair pulled back in a ponytail, I eased down the stairs where a light shone from the kitchen. Daddy was sure to be sitting at the table tucked in the corner, with a cup of strong coffee and the Bible. It’d been that way for as long as I could remember. But when I entered the room, he was leaning against the counter sipping his coffee as if waiting on me. The florescent light above was too harsh for the early morning hour.
“Morning, Daddy. Everything okay?” I snagged a mug from the cabinet and filled it from the carafe cradled in the coffee maker.
“Just gettin’ ready to go out and tend to the horses.” He took a slurp of coffee and avoided eye contact. “Thought you might wanna have breakfast in town, maybe go by the cemetery.”
Things’d be a whole lot easier if my family just went along with my fantasy that today was like any other day. “Taking care of the horses is my job, Daddy. Has been since I moved back home. Besides, I have to work at the vintage store this morning.”
He scowled into his coffee. “Well, what about after? We could have lunch then go—”
“Can’t Daddy.” The words came out in a rush over the quickening beat of my heart. “I’m waitressing over at the grill.” I added a splash of milk to my coffee, although I wouldn’t drink it now. It’d sit like acid in my belly. If I could just get through the day.
Daddy tilted his head with a sigh. “So, you gonna just pretend like nothin’s different?”
“Trying to. It’d help if you play along.” I hugged the mug to my chest and sent up a pointless prayer. Even if Daddy listened, I was pretty sure God wouldn’t.
“If that’s what you want. But you gotta know your sister and brothers are gonna be calling. Your mama had something planned, too, but since she’s feeling poorly, you might could be saved from that.”
“Poorly?” I set my mug in the sink. “What’s wrong with Mama?” I could count on one hand the times she’d been sick and still have a digit or two left over.
“A little tired and weak, is all. Probably a touch of the flu.” He rubbed a hand along the back of his neck, a sure sign it bothered him more than he let on.
“Is she awake?”
He nodded.
“I’m gonna check on her then. Don’t worry about tending to the horses. I’ll do that soon as I see Mama.”
He held up a hand. “Look, Beckah.”
I stopped at the doorway and turned to him. “It’s fine, Daddy. Don’t make a fuss, okay?”
He took in a deep breath and held my gaze. “You gonna at least see Mitch?”
Hearing his name only increased the knot in my stomach. “What for? It’s not like he can change things.” Bitterness was the product of a heart squeezed too long in a vice. I knew all the scripture verses that warned against it—been raised on them since birth. Somehow, there was a wall between what ought and what was, and I couldn’t seem to find my way over it.
The sun was just beginning to peek into Mama and Daddy’s bedroom window as I poked my head in. Mama lay on her back, eyes closed. Although the bed was mussed with covers pushed to the footboard, the room was otherwise orderly as a nun’s. Mama’d always kept a neat house and expected the same from her family. Even now at thirty-five, I couldn’t leave my bed unmade or dishes in the sink.
“Mama?” I kept my voice low in case she’d drifted back to sleep. “You awake?”
She rustled a bit and attempted to sit up, but after a moment of floundering, gave up with a sigh. “You best not come in, Sweet Pea, in case I’m contagious.”
“Nonsense.” I pushed the door fully open and entered. It was disconcerting to find Mama not feeling well, like Dorothy discovering the Wizard of Oz was nothing more than a mere mortal hiding behind a curtain. I crossed the room and leaned over her, resting the back of my hand on her forehead. The familiar move snatched the breath from my lungs, and I schooled my features so Mama wouldn’t notice.
“Me and Leah had a special day planned, but…” She took my hand as I settled on the edge of the bed. “Maybe tomorrow—”
“Don’t you worry about it, Mama.” There were dark circles under her eyes which heightened the pallor of her skin. “Like I told Daddy, I’m working at the vintage store this morning and took on an extra shift at the grill this afternoon. I don’t wanna fuss. Can I get you some water or tea?”
“Working yourself into a stupor isn’t gonna change things, Bekah. You can run all you want, but eventually, you gotta deal with it.”
Tears bit at the back of my eyes. “Not today, Mama, okay? Now what can I get you before I head out to the stables?”
Once outside, the barn and horses offered a welcomed escape where I could breathe again. Cheyenne, Daddy’s Australian shepherd rustled from the corner while I drew in the scents of hay, straw, dust, and manure. Familiar and comforting. Horses and dogs weren’t like people—they didn’t ask questions when the tears fell or nag at you when you didn’t feel like talking. I bent down to scratch Cheyenne’s belly before moving on to the horses.
There were four stabled, and I let them out one at a time, lingering to bury my face in Siren’s neck. She’d been mine since high school, and more loyal a companion I’d never found. Once they were fed and watered, I dug into mucking out the stables while Cheyenne followed in my path. It was a mindless task which gave me too much time to think.
Daddy and Mama weren’t wrong—I was avoiding Mitch and running from something that would eventually catch up to me. But even a year later, I couldn’t think straight enough to make a decision. It felt good to hang onto the anger and bitterness. It not only fueled me, it gave me a reason to get up in the morning.
I couldn’t stay with my parents forever, and there was a deep need to start fresh. Living in a small town where everyone knew my business was not a tenable position to be in. I’d hidden away and licked my wounds long enough. Only two problems kept me here—lack of funds and motivation.
While I marched the possibilities for change through my mind, I was interrupted by Sister Sledge’s “We Are Family,” coming from my cell nestled in the back pocket of my jeans. Leah. I entertained the notion of ignoring the call but knew it would just be putting off the inevitable. Running from my life was one thing; running from my big sister was another.
I set the pitchfork against the barn wall while retrieving my phone. “Hey, Leah.” I injected as much joy as I could into my tone, but it still came out sounding as if I’d just lost my last friend.
“Hey, Bekah. I just got off the phone with Daddy. He says Mama’s sick?”
Relief drew a sigh from me. I’d much rather the focus be on Mama than on finding a way to take a tragic day and turn it into sunshine and roses. “Might be the flu,” I confirmed. “Daddy’s going to stick close to home today.”
“So he said. Also said you’ve got yourself scheduled up.”
“Yes,” I said with gritted teeth. Seemed everyone had an opinion about my plans.
“Good. Gabe and I might come by the grill tonight. A course, that’s provided a miracle the size of Moses parting the Red Sea allows me to find a babysitter. I’ll look in on Mama this afternoon, so you don’t worry yourself about her.”
I rested my forehead on the rough barn door frame and fought another bout of tears. Not because I was swimming in grief, but because Leah understood. I don’t know what was more exhausting, wallowing in grief or pretending for family that everything was just fine. “Don’t come over, Leah. If Mama’s contagious, you’ll be dealing with sick kids for two weeks. I’ll come back by between jobs.”
After we disconnected, I checked the time. 7:30. It was going to be a long day.
#
Mitch
Years ago, someone told me the key to a successful business was attitude. If I put out positive energy, things’d be good. If not, it would tank. Sounded a little woo-woo to me. Might be he had a point. I clocked more deliveries over the last year than ever before but couldn’t get a leg up. Previous ten years were more lucrative by far. How was a person supposed to be positive when life kept throwing butt-ugly punches at him?
I walked into the bar at six o’clock after two back-to-back hot shot deliveries—one to a power plant in downtown Nashville and another to a construction crew in Murfreesboro. The pay was good, but with my luck, I’d blow out the tranny in my truck or sit idle for the next week. I needed a distraction and figured a roomful of rowdy guys might just do the trick. Best way to forget my problems was to drink until I couldn’t think straight.
Thursday night always seemed to draw a crowd, and tonight was no exception. Would’ve been smart to bring a friend, but the last thing I wanted was someone acting as my conscience. Enough of that went on when I was alone. God’s honest truth, I was looking for trouble, and it didn’t take long to find it.
Two rednecks sitting at the end of the bar making cracks at the waitress caught my attention. The girl couldn’t have been more than a month over legal drinking age and looked about as natural to the setting as Rebekah would’ve been—which was not at all. She reminded me of a younger Bekah, actually. Brown hair, bangs, slender build. Only difference was she wore a pound of makeup. Probably figured it made her look older or get her bigger tips.
The guy to my left reached for his beer and jostled me. There wasn’t enough elbow room to have a thought. “Sorry, pal. Place is packed tonight.”
“No problem.” I kept my gaze on the jokesters at the end of the bar as the waitress passed them with a tray of drinks. It looked to weigh more than her. One of the guys reached out and pinched her behind. She whirled around to avoid a repeat performance and the tray wobbled precariously. She righted it in the nick of time, but not before alcohol sloshed onto the tray and floor. They cackled as if it was the funniest thing they’d ever seen.
“Pigs,” I muttered. I wasn’t the only one watching the scene, but no one looked like they’d step in.
The guy next to me leaned over. “You say something?”
I tilted my chin in their direction. “Those losers are harassing the waitress.”
He chuckled. “She your girlfriend or something?”
I scowled. “Never saw her before. Doesn’t make it right, though.”
He peered around me to get a better view of the show. “She’s just a kid. I got a daughter about that age.”
“Yeah?” I took a swig of my beer. “How would you like it if a couple pigs like that grabbed her?”
He narrowed his eyes and shook his head. “S’not right,” he slurred.
“No, it’s not.” Nothing riled me more than a bully. I slammed my beer onto the bar and stood. Perfect excuse to knock some heads together. “Someone needs to teach them a lesson.”
He grabbed my arm. “They’re kinda big, don’tcha think?”
“And so drunk, they couldn’t hit the broadside of a barn.” I maneuvered through the crowd, laser-focused on my target. The bartender leaned toward them and said something as he pointed toward the door. No doubt telling them to cool it or leave, but he didn’t have the brawn to back it up. Either they were too stupid or too drunk to take heed, because when the waitress passed with another tray of drinks, one hooked an arm around her waist and reeled her in. The tray tumbled with a loud crash and a squeal from her as she jumped away.
“That’s it,” the bartender said. “I’m calling the sheriff, and y’all are gonna pay for those drinks.”
“Hey, sweet thang,” one of them called to the girl. “You wanna a large tip, you gotta play the game.” He slapped his thigh with a grin as if inviting her to take a seat.
I stepped between the terrified waitress and the drunks—close enough to smell their foul breath. A calmness washed over me like I was having an out-of-body experience. It’d feel good to bury a fist in their cocky faces. Break a few bones, even if they were mine. “I believe you were told to leave,” I said through gritted teeth.
They turned to each other serious as a heart attack then burst out laughing again. “You gonna make us?” the bigger one said. Tree stumps in Louisiana had a higher IQ than him.
I grabbed a fistful of his t-shirt and drew him up off the stool. He was a head taller, but I’d built up enough mad over the last year to make up the difference. “Yeah, I think I will.”
In a flash, fists and bodies were flying. Half the men jumped into the fray while the other half ducked out of the way. Before it was over, my knuckles were scraped and sore, one eye and cheek swollen, and my lip split. And it felt good.
Until I landed in a jail cell.
Drunk and disorderly were the charges. Only thing was, I hadn’t been drunk. Didn’t even finish half my beer. Disorderly? Well, I couldn’t argue that one. Still, it didn’t sit right being accused of something that wasn’t true. Not the first time that’d happened, though. Mama used to tell me fare was the price you paid to ride a bus—she didn’t have sympathy for whiners.
A deputy appeared at the cell I shared with three other guys all sleeping off the events of the night. “You made bail,” he said, pointing to me.
“That was fast.” I’d called Joe but didn’t figure he’d show until morning. I pushed my sore body from the hard bench and shuffled to the door like an old man. Bad as I felt, it’d be worse once the stiffness settled in my muscles.
“It was a bum charge,” the deputy said. “If things hadn’t been so chaotic, you’d of just gotten a citation. The waitress and bartender showed up after closing to put in a good word for you. Just don’t miss your court date.”
“I won’t.” I trailed him down the hall and into reception. Joe stood propped up against the far wall, arms crossed.
“Thanks for coming so quickly.” I patted him on the back.
“You might wanna consider sweet-talking Cassie after hauling me outta bed in the middle of the night. If it were any day but today, she’d of let you rot until morning.”
While Joe’s words washed over me, we stepped outside where the summer night was a good ten degrees warmer than the air-conditioned station. That reminder was all it took to drop kick me back where I’d started. Just proved what a fool I was. No amount of distraction was going to alter the truth of things.
“You wanna tell me what you were thinking?” Joe pushed a hand through his hair. “You look like the walking dead, by the way.”
“At least I’m still walking,” I muttered. “There are days I’d rather it be otherwise.”
Joe turned to me, the muscles in his jaws clenching. “Sorry, man. I wasn’t thinking.” He moved down the quiet street toward his truck parked along the curb. This time of night there was no more than a few cars and the sound of katydids to break the silence. “You need to talk to Bekah, Mitch. Y’all can’t keep goin’ on like this.”
“Your sister won’t give me the time of day. Don’t know if she ever will.”
“Since when have you ever let someone stand in the way of what you wanted? Bekah included.”
“It’s not only about me. Can’t force someone to do what they’re not willing to,” I said.
“So, you live separate lives as if nothing happened?” He shook his head. “It’s crazy.”
“I know it.” I blew out a breath. “You mind driving me to the bar to pick up my truck?”
We drove in silence while the moist breeze that blew through the windows cleared the fog in my brain. I thought about the limbo Bekah and me had been stuck in for a year now. It didn’t get easier—in fact, it just kept getting harder. Our marriage was non-existent, and the grief I’d sidestepped was every bit as deep as the day our lives came crashing down around us. I imagined it was the same for her. But what could I do if she wouldn’t talk to me, or even look at me?
I supposed there were worse places to be than in limbo, but for the life of me, I couldn’t think of any.

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