Fern felt her jaw drop. “You did?”
“Yep. I had to see if there was any heat.”
“And was there?”
“Well . . . yeah. There was. I mean, he had no clue what he was doing. And I took him by surprise, I think. But yeah. There was heat. Enough heat that I considered maybe just being able to kiss him was enough. Maybe being with someone I loved who would love me back was enough. But I got scared. I wasn't strong enough, Fern.”
“When? When did this happen?” Fern gasped.
“Junior year. Christmas break. We were watching movies at Bailey's, remember? You felt sick and walked home before the movie was over. Bailey's dad had helped Bailey out of his wheelchair so he was sitting on the couch. We were talking and laughing and . . . then I held his hand. And before the night was over . . . I kissed him too.”
Fern was stunned. Bailey had never told her. Never said a word. Her thoughts spun round and round like a mouse in a wheel, running in circles and never getting anywhere.
“Was that the only time?” Fern asked.
“Yes. I went home that night and when I saw Bailey after Christmas break, he acted like it never happened. I thought I'd ruined everything. I thought he would expect me to be his girlfriend, even though I kind of wanted to be. But I was afraid too.”
“Afraid of what?”
“Afraid that I would hurt him, or that I would make promises that I couldn't keep.”
Fern nodded. She understood, but her heart ached for Bailey. If she knew Bailey, which she did, the kiss had been a defining moment. Maybe to protect Rita, maybe to protect himself, he had kept it to himself.
“Then Becker came along. He was so persistent. And he was older and I just kind of . . . got swept away, I guess.”
“So you and Bailey never even talked about it again?
“The night before I married Becker, Bailey called me. He told me not to do it.”
“He did?” Fern asked. This night was just full of surprises.
“Yeah. But I told him it was too late. Bailey's too good for me anyway.”
“That's crap, Rita,” Fern blurted out.
Rita jerked like Fern had slapped her face.
“I'm sorry. But that's just an excuse not to do the hard thing,” Fern said bluntly.
“Oh really?” Rita snapped. “Look who's talking. You've been in love with Ambrose Young your whole life. Now he's home with a messed up face and a messed up life and I don't see you doing the hard thing!”
Fern didn't know what to say. Rita was wrong. Ambrose's face wasn't keeping her away. But did it matter what the reason was?
“I'm sorry, Fern.” Rita sighed tearfully. “You're right. It's crap. My whole life is crap. But I'm going to try to change it. I'm going to be better. You'll see. No more bad choices. Ty deserves better. I just wish Bailey . . . I wish things were different, you know?”
Fern began to nod, but then thought better of it, and shook her head in disagreement.
“If Bailey had been born without MD, he wouldn't be Bailey. The Bailey who is smart and sensitive, and seems to understand so many things we don't. You might have looked right past Bailey if he'd grown up healthy, wrestling on his dad's team, acting like every other guy you've ever known. A big part of the reason Bailey is so special is because life has sculpted him into something amazing . . . maybe not on the outside, but on the inside. On the inside, Bailey looks like Michelangelo's David. And when I look at him, and when you look at him, that's what we see.”
17: Take a Stand
Two days later, Becker Garth came strolling into Jolley's like his wife wasn't still bruised and his shirt didn't still smell like the slammer. Apparently, his connections on the Hannah Lake police force were coming in handy. He smiled cheekily at Fern as he strutted by her register.
“You're looking pretty today, Fern.” His eyes slid to her chest and back up again. He winked and popped his gum. Fern had always thought Becker was a handsome guy. But the handsome didn't quite cover the scum beneath, and sometimes the scum seeped through and oozed out around the edges. Like it was doing now.
He obviously didn't expect her to respond because he walked on, calling over his shoulder “Rita says you came by. Thanks for the money. I needed some beer.” He held up the twenty-dollar bill Fern had left on the counter for Rita and waved it in the air. Becker sauntered toward the aisle where the alcohol was shelved and disappeared from sight. And Fern saw red. She wasn't a girl prone to anger or rash acts. Until now. She was amazed at the steadiness of her voice as she spoke into the intercom.
“Attention Jolley's shoppers, today at Jolley's Supermarket we have some wonderful specials going on. Bananas are on sale for 39 cents a pound. Juice boxes are ten for a dollar, and our bakery has a dozen sugar cookies for $3.99,” Fern paused and gritted her teeth, finding she was unable to stay quiet. “I would also like to draw your attention to the giant ass**le in aisle ten. I promise you have never seen a bigger ass**le than this one, shoppers. He regularly hits his wife and tells her she's ugly and fat even though she's the most beautiful girl in town. He also likes to make his baby cry and can't hold down a steady job. Why? You guessed it! Because Becker Garth is a big, ugly, giant butt . . .”
“You bitch!” Becker came roaring down aisle ten, screaming, a twelve pack of beer under his arm and rage in his eyes.
Fern held the phone in front of her, as if the intercom would provide a buffer between her and the man she'd publicly insulted. Patrons were gaping, some laughing at Fern's audacious display, others frowning in confusion. Becker threw down the twelve pack and several punctured cans shot out of the broken box, spraying beer in a wide swath. He ran toward Fern and snatched the phone from her hands, pulling on its curly cord until it sprang free, whipping past Fern's face. She ducked reflexively, certain that Becker was going to swing the phone like a nunchuck, striking everything in its path.