One Hot Forty-Five

“What the hell?” Violet said, thinking she must have read it wrong. “Pearl Cavanaugh is throwing a shower this afternoon for my mother? This has to be a misprint.”

“I thought you said nobody in town liked your mother.”

Violet shot Roberta a look that shut her up. Maybe it was a pity shower. Still, it seemed odd. Violet couldn’t shake the uncomfortable feeling that everything had changed since she’d been gone.

She read it again and noticed something she hadn’t seen before. It said in case of bad weather, the shower would be held at the Tin Cup, the restaurant out of town on the golf course.

Violet had heard about the winter-storm warning on the radio. She couldn’t imagine worse weather.

Her thoughts returned to her mother and the shower. It was amazing enough that her mother had found another man when Violet hadn’t even found one. And he was a man with money, from what she’d heard. She consoled herself with the assurance that Hank Monroe couldn’t be much of a man.

“So, are we going to your mother’s shower?” Roberta asked, reading over her shoulder.

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world. But first there’s somewhere we have to go.”

ARLENE TOUCHED THE WEDDING dress hanging from her closet door.

She felt like Cinderella about to go to the ball. She closed the closet door as the phone rang. All morning she’d feared that Pearl would cancel the shower. After all, with this storm coming in … “Hello?”

“Hi, beautiful.”

She melted at the sound of Hank’s voice. That she’d been given a second chance was such a blessing. He’d changed her. Not that she didn’t have a long way to go.

She still had to bite her tongue not to gossip or have uncharitable thoughts. Hank laughed at her attempts to be the perfect woman.

“Arlene, I love you exactly as you are.” That alone amazed her. But she wanted to be better for Hank. His love had already made her a better person.

“I hope I didn’t wake you,” Hank said now.

“No, I was up admiring my wedding dress.” Hank had bought it for her, saying she deserved her dream wedding. She and Floyd, her first husband and the father of her children, had gotten married by the justice of the peace. A shotgun wedding because she’d been pregnant with her first born, Violet.

Looking back, it was clear Floyd had never wanted the children. Nor did he care about them even now. He hadn’t even been to see his own grandson.

Arlene was so thankful that Hank loved the baby and had gone out of his way to help her daughter Charlotte and son-in-law, Lucas, make a home for their son.

“Then you haven’t seen the news,” Hank said, dragging her from her thoughts.

Arlene felt her heart drop. “No, why?” Her first thought was that the shower was cancelled. But from the sound of Hank’s voice, she knew it was more serious than that.

Her worry intensified. Instinctively she knew it must have something to do with Bo. In the past, most news, especially bad news, was often about her son, Bo. But Bo was gone.

She still couldn’t believe what he’d done to bring about his own death. For months now, she’d mourned his loss, knowing she had failed him by spoiling him, just as she’d failed her daughter Violet by not spoiling her enough.

“Honey, it’s Violet. She’s escaped from the state institution. There were three of them. One has already been caught, so I’m sure—”

“Ohh.” She sat down hard in the middle of the floor, the phone clutched in her hand. “Violet?”

Her oldest daughter. The culmination of all her mistakes as a mother. Hank kept assuring her that she hadn’t made Violet what she’d become. That there had been something wrong with Violet, something genetic. Just as she couldn’t blame herself for the way Bo had turned out after growing up without a father present.

Arlene couldn’t help but feel that if she’d been a better mother, if she’d insisted Floyd take more of a part in raising the kids, if she’d been able to stand up to Floyd’s horrible mother and not let that old woman near her kids …

“I want you to come stay with me until Violet is caught,” Hank was saying.

Caught? How was it possible to raise a child that would one day have to be caught like a rabid dog?

“Hank, what about Charlotte and the baby?” Little Luke was a year old now, but still Arlene thought of him as a baby.

“Violet won’t hurt her sister or her nephew, and Lucas will be home from his ranch job up north. You don’t have to worry about them.”

“You don’t know what Violet’s like. She’s so angry. She blames everyone for her unhappiness.” She realized she was crying.

“If you’re that worried, I’ll have Lucas, Charlotte and Luke move in here with us. There’s plenty of room.”

Arlene felt sick. “You know why she escaped now, right before the wedding. She—”

“I won’t let her stop the wedding.”

She loved Hank more than life and knew how capable he was of taking care of her. But he didn’t know Violet and what she was capable of. Arlene did. “Maybe we should put off the wedding.”

“No,” Hank said. “If she isn’t caught before the wedding, then I’ll see that security is stepped up. I just want to make sure that you’re safe until then. I’ll be down to pick you up. Pack just what you need until the wedding. Has the storm hit there yet? It’s snowing really hard up here. I think it’s moving south in your direction, so bundle up.”

“Hank—”

“Arlene, I’m not taking no for an answer. I’m on my way there now.” He hung up.

Not that it would have made a difference to argue with him. She knew she couldn’t talk him out of it, and maybe it would be best if she and Violet didn’t cross paths right now. If Violet was upset about the wedding, there was no telling what she might do.

Arlene prayed that one day Violet could get well and live a normal life. But if she kept getting into trouble, she would never be released.

Going into the living room, Arlene walked over to the drapes and drew them back so she could look across the prairie as the sun crested the horizon—just as she had done for almost forty years.

AS DEDE DROVE THROUGH THE swirling snow, Lantry realized they were following the brunt of the storm south. The wind had kicked up, the temperature on the thermometer between the visors showing five below zero. He could no longer tell if it was snowing or if the snow in the air was being kicked up by the wind.

He hadn’t seen a light for miles, and the secondary road she’d taken was getting progressively worse. The pickup was bucking drifts. If it wasn’t for catching sight of the top of an occasional fence post on each side of the barrow pit along the narrow, unpaved road, he would have doubted they were even still on a road.

“I’m curious,” Dede said, breaking the silence. “What made you become a divorce lawyer?”

“Excuse me?”

“Don’t you feel guilty taking advantage of two devastated people who are fighting for their lives?”

He growled under his breath, but settled back into the seat. “Don’t you mean trying to kill each other over their assets? Not exactly their lives.”

She shot him a scowl.

“Watch the road!” he said as the pickup hit a drift, snow cascading over the windshield.

“You’ve never been married, have you?” she said as visibility improved a little. “So you don’t know what it’s like to get divorced.”