Firefly Nights

“Okay. And while you’re in there, find out where the pay phones are...so I can use one,” she added.

“You calling Grandpa?”

Kitty ignored the glimmer of hope in his eyes. “No, I’m calling Bette to tell her we’re going to be late.”

“Then use your cell phone.”

“I can’t. Every call from the cell is listed on the company bill and will alert Grandpa to anyone I contacted.”

“Then why did you bring the cell phone if you weren’t going to use it?”

“I would use it if there were an emergency.”

He gave her an incredulous look. “Mom, we have no car, no money and we’re stuck in Nowheresville. What the heck do you call an emergency anyway?”

He had a point, and she was almost ready to admit it when she saw the answer to their problems. “Look there,” she said, pointing to an ATM just to the right of the store entrance. “I can withdraw money from my account.” She walked toward the machine and took her bank card from her purse. Thankfully she’d been smart enough to remove all plastic from her wallet, or the card would have been stolen, too. She slipped the plastic into the slot, started to punch in her PIN and then yanked the card out so quickly a bystander might have thought the machine had caught fire.

Adam stared at her. “What’s wrong now?”

Kitty squeezed her eyes shut and took a deep breath, trying to quell the shock of what she’d almost done. She’d put this plan together in less than a day, but she’d forgotten one vital detail. “We can’t get money this way,” she said.

“Why not? You said you’ve got some in your account.”

“I know, but...” She paused. Adam would never sympathize with the mistake she’d nearly made.

His eyes widened with impatience. “But what?”

But when I opened this account ten years ago, my father listed himself as a signer on the documents.

That move had been necessary at the time, since after she’d been with Bobby, Kitty’s credit rating had been stuck somewhere in financial quicksand. Like it or not, Owen still had access to her accounts, and ATMs left paper trails. He’d know she’d used this machine and where it was located. Besides, Kitty wouldn’t have been surprised if Owen had already closed the account, tightening the net that would force her and Adam back to Richland. She squeezed her eyes closed for a minute and drew a deep breath. She should have anticipated this problem.

Adam waited for an answer, so she repeated, “We can’t get cash this way, but, Adam, don’t worry...”

He shook his head. “I know. You’ll think of something.” He walked toward the store entrance. “I’m going inside.”

Grateful he’d dropped the subject, Kitty watched him go. “I’ll meet you here after I buy your breakfast.” She dug a few precious dollar bills from her pocket. “Remember to locate the pay phones. But don’t use one,” she hollered after him. When she spoke to Bette, she’d have to ask her to wire money. She knew her mother’s cousin had it to lend, but it wouldn’t make asking any easier.

Kitty walked toward the outdoor market and considered the selections and how much each cost. She figured five hundred from Bette ought to cover the cost of truck repairs and gasoline. With any luck, she and Adam would be back on the highway and driving east to Charlotte by the afternoon.

She bought two blueberry muffins, a banana and orange juice for Adam, and a cup of coffee for herself. Then she stood in the parking lot, feeling the warmth of the morning sun, and the renewed confidence that comes from having a solution. She’d just swallowed a generous swig of coffee when a sudden commotion at the entrance to Value-Rite made the coffee percolate in her empty belly. It couldn’t be.

It was. Adam was streaking across the parking lot, dodging cars, people and baby strollers. His arms were wrapped tightly around the elastic waist of his Tampa Bay Buccaneers jacket. And huffing and puffing, but steadily gaining on him, were two uniformed security guards.

Kitty dropped her paper cup, gripped the brown bag that held Adam’s breakfast and ran toward the chase, which was now drawing a crowd. By the time she reached Adam, a security guard had his arm around her son’s chest. He held Adam above the pavement while he attempted to dodge blows from Adam’s wildly thrashing legs.

“Let me go, you big goon,” Adam shouted. Sweat poured down his face. “You lay a hand on me and I’ll sue.”

The guard didn’t loosen his grip. “Watch your mouth, kid. You’re in enough trouble already.”

A quick inspection of the parking lot confirmed what Kitty already suspected. At least a dozen electronic items lay scattered at the guard’s feet. Digital cameras, MP3 players, video games... Kitty couldn’t take it all in at once. “Oh, Adam, you didn’t.”

A man in a white shirt approached with the second security guard, who held a radio in his hand. “I’ve got Sheriff Oakes on the line,” the guard said. “He’s only a half mile away, so he should be here pretty—”

A siren cut him off as a patrol car careened into the lot and came to a lunging stop next to them. A large man in a uniform with a badge that proclaimed him Sheriff stepped out of the car and strolled around the hood. After appraising the situation, he removed his wide-brimmed hat and ran his hand through thick gray hair. Then he looked at Adam, whose face was the color of chalk. “Looks like you’re in a heap of trouble, little buddy.”

“What’re you gonna do?” Adam squawked as the guard lowered him to the asphalt.

“Well, let’s see here.” He picked up the damaged remains of what was obviously an expensive camera. Adam didn’t comment.

Next the sheriff examined the split blister packaging that contained a handheld gaming system. The contents rattled in the throes of electronic death. The rest of the merchandise, which had obviously been stuffed into Adam’s jacket, was in a similar state of ruin.

Kitty pinched the bridge of her nose to ward off a pain that had sliced between her eyes. She stepped between Adam and the sheriff. “Officer, I’m his mother, and...”

The sheriff touched the brim of his hat. “Sheriff Oakes,” he said, and motioned to the man in the white shirt. “Quint, run a tab of what all this costs.” He looked down at Adam and raised thick bushy eyebrows. “I hope you got a lot of money, son. It’s not likely to get you out of this mess, but it’s a start.” He returned his attention to Kitty. “So you’re the boy’s mother?”

She nodded.

“Can’t say as I envy you, Mrs....”

“Watley. Miss Kitty Watley.” She stared intently at her son, warning him not to reveal the truth about her name. “This is Adam.”

“Where are you from?”

“Florida, most recently.”

“You come all the way from Florida to attend the opening of our Value-Rite, Miss Watley?”

“No, of course not. My son and I were just passing through. We’re on our way to Charlotte, but our truck broke down, and that’s not all. We got lost. We’ve been robbed...”

“Sounds like a hard-luck case, all right,” the sheriff said. “But how do you figure this justifies what your boy just did?”

Kitty felt her hopes for a sympathetic solution to this current disaster deflate like an old inner tube. “I’m not sure,” she admitted, and looked at Adam.

He rubbed a dirty finger under his nose and stood ramrod straight. “You wouldn’t let your mother starve, would you, Sheriff?” Poking the same finger in Kitty’s direction, he added, “Look at how skinny she is. I was just trying to fetch a few dollars to keep her from fainting. You were close to fainting from hunger, weren’t you, Mom?”

“Oh, Adam...”

The sheriff placed a hand on Adam’s shoulder and nudged him toward the patrol car. “Let’s go down to the station and see what charges will have to be filed.”

Adam jerked away. “Charges! You got to be kidding.” He gawked at Kitty. “Did you hear that, Mom? Are you happy now? He’s gonna put me in jail for trying to save us from starvation.” The look on his face was pure desperation when he said, “Cripes, Mom, it’s time to use your cell phone and call Grandpa!”

Kitty looked away from the pleading in her son’s eyes and spoke to the sheriff. “He’s not going to jail, is he? You wouldn’t put a boy in jail.”

“No, ma’am, but we do have the juvenile intervention center over at the Spooner County seat, and that’s a strong possibility, especially with your boy’s attitude.”

“I have a right to a lawyer,” Adam protested. “If you lock me up anywhere, my grandpa will sue you for every cent—”

“Adam, for heaven’s sake, be quiet,” Kitty said. “Even Grandpa can’t sue somebody because you broke the law.”

“I’d take your mama’s advice, son,” the sheriff said, leading them to his car. “I think now’s the time to be quiet.”

CHAPTER TWO

ADAM AND KITTY rode in the back of the patrol car to the downtown area of Sorrel Gap, North Carolina. The police station was a redbrick building on a shady two-lane street of similar structures designed to capture a historic feel.

Sheriff Oakes’s office was sparsely furnished with three desks, a few filing cabinets and a gun rack. There was one other person in the office, a plump, fiftysomething woman. She stood up when they came in and appraised the prisoners with a disapproving eye. “These the folks who stole from the Value-Rite, Virgil?” she asked.

“Yep. This is Kitty Watley and her son, Adam. Folks, this is my wife, Wanda Oakes.”

“How do you do,” Kitty said, attempting a smile. Good manners couldn’t hurt.

The woman nodded, disturbing tight gray curls in a nest on her head. “I knew something like this would happen,” she said to her husband. “Once the Value-Rite opened, we’d have a crime wave, and you and I would end up working most Sundays.” She handed a piece of paper to the sheriff. “Quint called from the store. He said the boy stole fifteen hundred and twenty dollars’ worth of merchandise. Only a cordless mouse for $69.97 wasn’t damaged.”

Kitty stared at her son in disbelief. “A cordless mouse? We didn’t even bring your computer.”

“That’s a serious crime, son,” Sheriff Oakes said.

“Look, I can get the money,” Adam said. “If you’d just let me make my one phone call...”

“No, Adam,” Kitty said. “You’re not calling anyone.”

The office phone rang and Wanda picked it up. “It’s Tommy,” she said, handing the phone to her husband.

He listened, mumbled a brief response and hung up. “That was my deputy, Miss Watley, calling from where you left your truck. He traced the temporary tag to a dealer and says the vehicle is registered in your name. Your story checks out.”

Thank goodness the car dealership had accepted her old driver’s license as proof of identity. Of course when a person paid cash for a junker, not many questions were asked.

“Look, Sheriff,” Adam said. “My mom and me—we’re stinkin’ ri—”

Kitty clamped a hand over his mouth. “Not now, Adam.”

Sheriff Oakes asked for Kitty’s driver’s license. She could honestly say it was in her stolen wallet. “Run a check on her name anyway,” Oakes said to his wife. “See if there are any warrants in Florida.”

“There aren’t,” Kitty said.

Oakes did a quick head-to-toe appraisal of Adam. “And no rap sheet on the boy?”

“Of course not,” Kitty said, though the words not yet came to her mind. “Adam was just trying to help me.”

“Seems like he only made things worse,” Oakes said.

“Sheriff, what can we do? What I told you about my money being stolen is true. I can’t pay for that merchandise. But I’d be glad to work off the debt. I’ll do anything you say that will make up for what my son did today.”

The sheriff rubbed a thumb over his upper lip. “Well, Miss Watley, that’s mighty generous of you, but you weren’t the one who stole that stuff.”

She felt color rise to her cheeks. She was doing exactly what her father had always done. She was making excuses and offering solutions for her son’s behavior. Maybe now was the time to show Adam that he had to be responsible for his mistakes. They’d come to a symbolic crossroads in the town of Sorrel Gap, and, as desperate as they were, Kitty decided it was time her son took the proper path.

“You’re right, Sheriff,” she said. “It was Adam who stole that merchandise. And I’ll make sure he does whatever you think is appropriate punishment for his crime.” She paused when another pain knotted her stomach. This time she analyzed it as a symptom of parental guilt. She wasn’t blameless in all this. She was Adam’s mother, and her complacent acceptance of Owen’s dominance all these years made her responsible by default for what Adam did. She looked at Sheriff Oakes and said, “But I’m still his mother, and I’ll do my part to make up for what happened.”

Adam gulped. “What are you saying, Mom?”

“You’re not going to get out of this so easily, Adam.” She waited for Oakes’s reaction. “What do you think, Sheriff? We’ll do whatever you say.”

“Kitty,” he began with an almost fatherly patience, “I hate to see a boy head down a road of crime. I surely do, but this being Sunday, I suppose I’ll have to remand him over to juvenile until tomorrow when he can appear before the county court judge...”

Kitty’s empty stomach plunged, and she fought a wave of nausea. She didn’t know what she’d expected, but certainly not this. Not a detention facility. Maybe she could call Bette, ask her for more money. But fifteen hundred dollars plus the fine, and truck repairs...

And then Wanda Oakes called her husband over to speak privately. But in a compact office, privacy wasn’t an option, and Kitty heard most of what she said.

“Virgil, Campbell comes home from the hospital today,” Wanda whispered.

“I know.”

“I’ve asked everyone in those hills to look after him. Even offered a small salary. Nobody has time what with planting going on now. Plus, it’s not like your nephew’s tried to fit in with us since coming home. Folks may admire what he did in Iraq, but he’s changed.”

“It’s the accident, Wanda,” the sheriff argued. “He’s had a hard time.”

“I think it’s more than that. Every time I ask him what happened over there in Raleigh, he says he doesn’t want to talk about it. If you ask me, he’s been in the city too long.”

“I know he’s been secretive, but he served his country. He’s due a little privacy.”

Wanda sniffed. “Fine, but I’m just telling you. No one’s going to put themselves out for him. And he flat out refused to come live with us till his leg and ribs are healed. Let’s face it. I’m the one who’ll be stuck going out to that place every day to see to his needs.”

The sheriff scratched his neck. “Are you going somewhere with all this, Wanda?”

She passed a furtive look at Kitty before mumbling something about working off the theft, community service and totaling up the debt to Sorrel Gap.

“Do you think Quint will go for it?” the sheriff asked.

“I’ll call him and ask, but I know he will. He’ll want this incident to go away quietly so he doesn’t get any bad press on the opening weekend of his store.”

Virgil shrugged. “I suppose it could work. At least the bill will get paid. Plus, we’d be saving the county what it costs to keep the boy at the detention center.” After a moment the sheriff returned to Kitty and Adam. “My wife and I are good judges of character,” he said. “We can see that you two are good people deep down.”

Kitty held her breath. This sounded like a snow job. Even so, she was willing to listen. Whatever Oakes was about to say might be their only hope of getting back on the road.

“Do you have time before you have to be in Charlotte?” Oakes asked.

“Yes, sir. Some.”

“And you’ll guarantee that your boy will take care of all debt to the village of Sorrel Gap and the Value-Rite?”

“Yes. Adam?”

“What?”

She pinched his arm.

“Okay, jeez!”

Sheriff Oakes grinned. “Then there might be a solution to this problem.” He leaned against a desk and crossed his arms. “My nephew comes home from the hospital today. He had a little crash with his airplane and busted up his leg pretty good.”

A little crash? Kitty pictured wrecked metal and broken limbs.

“He’s a fine fella,” the sheriff continued. “An Iraq war hero. Lives in a place down the road with lots of rooms. I don’t guess he needs any serious nursing. Just general care. If you can see clear to staying out there and looking after him for a spell, and if your boy agrees to work with Quint over at the Value-Rite, I expect I can convince a judge and the citizens of Sorrel Gap to call your debt paid.”

Was the sheriff acting a bit too casual? At this point, doubts flooded Kitty’s mind. What exactly would their living arrangements be? How would she get along without her truck? And sure, the sheriff vouched for his nephew, but he was a complete stranger to her and Adam. He could be a jerk or worse.

As if sensing her reluctance, Sheriff Oakes stood straight and stared at her. “It’s a fair solution, young lady,” he said. “I guarantee you’ll be treated right, and once this debt is paid, you’ll be free to move on.”

The sheriff waited for her answer, his features stern. Kitty knew she was out of options. It was this deal or detention and court for Adam—with all the evidence rightly stacked against him. She could put off her entrance to the design school if that meant Adam wouldn’t be incarcerated. And since Oakes had said his nephew was in a plane crash, chances were his leg injury was severe. If she and Adam felt threatened by him, they could outrun him to the nearest neighbor’s house to find help. And he was a veteran. That was a detail in his favor.

She took a deep breath, glanced at Adam, whose disbelief was etched in his features. The best part about Oakes’s proposition was its benefit to her son. He’d finally learn that his actions had consequences. She put her hand on Adam’s shoulder. “I’m ready to accept this deal, Sheriff,” she said.

Adam gasped. She ignored him. “But I still have a problem with my truck. How will Adam and I get around?”

“My nephew has a Jeep,” he said. “He might let you use it once you gain his trust. But your first obligation is to him. I don’t want to hear that you’re driving around Spooner County on joy rides.”

Kitty almost smiled. As if she could do anything remotely joyful on thirty-seven dollars. In her old life, that didn’t even cover a haircut. She nodded. “Agreed.”

They could do this, look in on the sheriff’s relative while Adam worked off his debt. Plus, there was an added bonus. They had a place to stay and Owen would never think to look for them in Sorrel Gap. “We’ll do our best,” she added.

“I know you will, Kitty, and to show my appreciation, I’ll have your truck towed into town at our expense.” He grinned. “But I’ll keep the keys here in the office until this matter’s settled.”

“Mom!” Adam wailed.

Ignoring the sheriff’s veiled warning, she said to Adam, “Would you rather go to the detention facility?”

He mumbled a brusque “No.”

Kitty pressed her keys into the sheriff’s outstretched hand. “Can I ask one question?”

“Now’s the time.”

“How long until I get those back?”

He gave the keys to Wanda. “A few weeks maybe. Give or take. Fifteen hundred dollars is a lot of money, especially when the boy can’t work more than three or four hours a day. But it’s pretty country here. Might be the best summer you folks ever had.”

Adam grabbed her hand. “The whole summer?”

“No, surely not,” Kitty whispered to him. “Not if you work real hard.” But Kitty still had her doubts, both about her son and the man they were dedicating the next weeks to. But they were committed now. “We’ll need our personal things from the truck,” she said to Oakes.

“I’ll have my deputy run them out to you later. But I’ll take you to Campbell’s place now so you can settle in.”

Kitty walked to the door with Adam reluctantly beside her. When she looked over her shoulder to say goodbye to Mrs. Oakes, the woman appeared quite satisfied with the arrangements. Blissfully so.

* * *

AFTER A TWENTY-MINUTE ride in the patrol car down a narrow, two-lane road, Kitty was beginning to wonder if they were ever going to get to the home of Sheriff Oakes’s nephew. But the scenery was beautiful—summertime green and lush—and she found herself relaxing despite her misgivings and listening to Sheriff Oakes’s description of Sorrel Gap history.

The town had begun to thrive as a tourist destination once the four-lane road called the Spooner County Expressway opened in 1980. Before that, this narrow highway, which Oakes told her was called Old Sorrel Gap Road, was truly nestled in the elbow of two ridges of foothills rising from each side.

Kitty expected to see lavish homes bordering the country road, so she was surprised when they drove past an abandoned gas station and a couple of vacant clapboard buildings. “How much farther?” she asked the sheriff.

He pointed to a vague spot in the distance. “The Saddle Top Motel’s just over that rise.”

A motel? Good news. She and Adam wouldn’t be alone with Oakes’s nephew after all. There would be guests and employees around. When the car crested the hill, she spied a tall metal pole with a rusted oval sign on top. Then she saw the motel—a one-story brick building baking in the noon sun like a sedentary caterpillar. The sign on top of the pole proclaimed its identity.

Kitty made out the faded image of what might have been an engaging old cowpoke in chaps and stocking cap—years ago. His arm jerked crazily up and down in the wind, pointing first at the sky and then at the faded words, Saddle Top Mountain Motel. All of the letters except for the first ones in each word had paled to near obscurity. Three lightbulbs, out of an entire ring of empty sockets, clung stubbornly around the perimeter of the sign.

“Where the heck are we?” Adam asked. He’d sat up and had flattened both hands to the passenger window. His expression had transformed from disinterest to something resembling terror.

Sheriff Oakes veered left into a gravel parking lot riddled with potholes and ground to a stop. “We’re at the Saddle Top Motel, son,” he said. “This is where you and your mother will be staying.”

Kitty shot a warning look over the front seat when Adam started to speak. Then she swallowed past a lump in her throat that accompanied the realization that vacationers hadn’t stayed here in years. “Your nephew lives here?”

“Sure does. The place has been in Campbell’s family for a long time. Camp’s grandpa used to run it, but the business failed when the expressway diverted traffic. It’s been closed now for nearly thirty years.” Oakes stared out the windshield. “Doesn’t look too bad, all things considered.”

Right. If your current home was a park bench or the asphalt under a bridge. Kitty didn’t see the point in expressing her own opinion, so she just said, “Why does your nephew live here instead of in town?”

The sheriff paused a moment before saying, “Free-and-clear housing, I would expect. Once Campbell’s grandfather passed, he inherited the place.”

So this man is an incompetent pilot with a busted-up leg, and no visible means of support. Great.

Oakes continued. “Campbell didn’t need the motel until recently. Before coming home, he lived on the Matheson estate in Raleigh.” Oakes’s voice held a hint of pride. “Now, that’s a name you’ve heard of, I’ll wager.”

“Matheson? No, sorry.”

“Matheson Fine Furniture?”

Kitty shook her head.

“Well, I’ll be. I thought everybody had heard of Leland Matheson. He’s worth a few cool millions. Campbell lived on his estate and worked as his business adviser and personal pilot for the past three years since he got out of the Air Force.”

Kitty felt as if she were on a roller coaster of good news–bad news. This last bit of information was encouraging. Apparently the nephew had recently held a decent job. But since she was here to take care of this pilot who had just crashed his plane, Kitty couldn’t help wondering if his former employer, doubting his pilot’s skills, had fired him. Figuring the best way to know was to ask, she said, “So, why did your nephew leave his job?”