Dogwood

Dogwood Read Free Page B

Book: Dogwood Read Free
Author: Chris Fabry
Tags: Fiction - General, FICTION / Christian / General
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wasn’t buying the compliments. The tag under his star said “Buret.” He had the look of a lone bull in an open field, his upper arms the size of my thighs. He shook my hand—the same grip as his father’s. “Good to see you again. Welcome to the force.”
    The phone rang, and Maggie put her hand over the mouthpiece. “Chief, it’s the mayor.”
    “Better get the office cleaned out, old-timer,” Eddie said. “I want to move in this afternoon.”
    The chief shook his head and closed the door. I could hear his voice through the window. “Mayor, how are we today?”
    “Wes, you coming to the breakfast?” Eddie said.
    “If you can spare me.”
    Eddie looked at me. “Figured you could hold down the fort while we say good-bye to the old geezer.”
    “Sure.”
    “I’ll keep my radio on just in case.”
    “I don’t have my uniform yet.”
    “That’s all right. You’ll just be answering the phone. Maggie’s coming with us.” Eddie opened a desk drawer and pulled out a service revolver, a .38 Smith & Wesson in a holster with Mace, a radio, and a nightstick. Then a silver badge in a leather holder. “We’ll grab your uniform on the way back from the restaurant. Any questions?”
    “If somebody calls with an emergency?”
    He wrote down the number for the restaurant. “Nobody’ll call.”
    I brought in a box of my stuff as the four piled into both cruisers and screeched away. Eddie ran the lights. One last spin for the memory, I guessed.
    I settled into the corner desk, going through the drawers to see what was there. Eddie had told me during the interview process that the previous officer had taken a job in Charleston. I must have answered his questions satisfactorily. He knew I was a native and understood the people.
    “Dogwood’s never gonna be a big city,” Eddie had said. “And to be honest, I don’t want it to be. I want to keep things quiet as they’ve always been.”
    I put out the picture of Lynda and me—a shot we’d taken on our honeymoon at Pipestem, a state park a couple of hours away. Then one from a few months ago, her stomach slightly paunched, my hand on her belly. Another reason I had quickly taken the job. I needed an income and some benefits for the new family.
    Another picture showed lots of sand and my buddies looking tough, square-jawed, kneeling near a Chinook. After my military service, I’d gone into officer training and landed a job in Wheeling. With Orson—my affectionate name for our baby—on the way and the grandparents excited about their first grandchild, moving back seemed the best option. Lynda’s parents live in Winfield, only fifteen minutes away, so it made sense. We found a house, the old Benedict farm that had been divided into several parcels.With the money I’d saved and gifts from both sets of parents, we made a down payment and moved in with Lynda’s folks until I could remodel. We had a long way to go—the water pipes were worse than I thought and the roof was a sieve—but I was hopeful we could be in before the baby came.
    The third and last picture was of Karin and me when we were kids. It was Halloween—I was six; she was ten. She wore a frilly ballerina costume, and I held a motorcycle helmet and had written #43 on a white T-shirt to look like Richard Petty. Our faces were pressed together, cheek to cheek. I’m glad we got a photo of Karin smiling and happy.
    The bell jingled and two women entered. The younger one wore tight cutoffs, her shirt tied to show off tight-as-a-drum abs. Her dirty blonde hair hung down, and each time she blinked, her split ends moved. Her lips were pouty, and her teeth protruded slightly. She had a smoker’s cough.
    The older woman was large with a dimpled chin and gray-streaked dark hair. Her arms looked like the Michelin Man’s, and she wore polyester slacks that made an audible whine as she walked.
    “Can I help you, ladies?”
    “Where’s Eddie?” the older woman said.
    “He’s out for a couple of hours.

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