She swiped at her eyes with the back of her hand and drove blindly down the lane, thoughts of the butterfly effect swirling through her mind. It was a concept that scientists who studied chaos theory talked about, the notion that something as simple as a butterfly’s wings stirring the air in Singapore could cause a ripple effect that would eventually affect weather systems in Denver. The butterfly effect could also be a mini morality lesson, and she remembered talking to her third graders about it, telling them that any good deed, no matter how small, could keep multiplying until it had changed the whole world forever for the better.
Her deed had done the same thing, but in reverse. Her selfish act was causing pain to an increasing number of innocent people. And there was no end in sight. The harm kept spreading, the butterfly effect multiplying. She had hurt Cal, she was hurting his parents, and, worst of all, her bad judgment was going to hurt their baby.
She was too upset to work, so she drove into town and went to the drugstore. As she came out, she heard a familiar voice.
“Hey, beautiful. Did you pray for me?”
She whirled around and found herself looking into a pair of cocky green eyes. For absolutely no reason that she could think of, her flagging spirits lifted a few notches. “Hello, Mr. Tucker. I didn’t expect to see you here.”
“Why don’t you call me Kevin? Even better, how about calling me honey and really pissing off the old man.”
She smiled. He reminded her of a young golden retriever: attractive, overly eager, full of restless energy and unlimited self-confidence. “Now let me guess. You’ve shown up in Salvation to cause Cal as much trouble as possible.”
“Me? Now why would I do something like that? I love the old guy.”
“If someone doesn’t put you in your place soon, there’s no justice in the world.”
“My place is sitting on the bench, and I don’t like it one bit.”
“I’m sure you don’t.”
“Let me buy you some lunch, Jane—I can call you Jane, can’t I? Why are you driving that old heap around? I didn’t know they still allowed cars like that on the road. Whose is it?”
She opened the door of the Escort and set her packages inside. “It’s mine, and don’t talk about it like that, or you’ll hurt its feelings.”
“That car’s not yours. The Bomber’d never let you drive a junker like that in a million years. Come on, let’s go have some lunch at the Mountaineer. It’s the best meal in town.”
He grabbed her arm, and she found herself being swept around the corner toward a small, tidy-looking wooden house with a roughly carved sign on the porch indicating this was the bar she’d been hearing about. The entire time they walked, he talked.
“Did you know this is a dry county? There are no bars. The Mountaineer is what they call a bottle club. I even had to buy a membership card to get in. Don’t you think that’s bogus? You can still drink in this county, but you have to have a membership card to do it.”
He led her up the stairs, across a wooden porch, and into a small entryway where a young woman in jeans stood next to an old classroom lectern that held a reservation book. “Hi there, sweetheart. We need a table for two. Someplace cozy.” He flashed his membership card.
The hostess smiled at Kevin and directed them through a small, spartan dining room that looked as if it had originally served as the living room of the house, but was now furnished with half a dozen square wooden tables, all of which were empty. Two steps led down into an open area with a brick floor, mahogany bar, and large stone fireplace whose hearth held a rush basket full of old magazines. Country music played in the background, but the noise wasn’t deafening, and an assortment of local people sat at the round tables and barstools enjoying their lunches. The hostess led them to a small table tucked near the fireplace.
Jane had never been a fan of bars, but she had to admit this one was cozy. The walls were hung with nostalgic advertising signs, yellowed newspaper stories, and football memorabilia including a blue-and-gold Stars’ jersey emblazoned with the number eighteen. Next to the jersey hung an assortment of framed magazine covers, all of them picturing her husband.
Kevin glanced over at them as he held out a cane-backed chair for her. “As good as the food is, the view sure could spoil your appetite.”
“If you didn’t want that kind of view, you shouldn’t have come to Salvation.”
He snorted as he took his seat. “The whole town’s brainwashed.”
“Grow up, Kevin.”
“I should have known you’d be on his side.”
She laughed at the injured expression on his face. “I’m his wife! What did you expect?”
“So? You’re supposed to be this genius or something, aren’t you? Can’t you be fair-minded?”
She was saved from replying by the arrival of the waitress, who regarded Kevin with rapacious eyes, but he was absorbed in the menu and didn’t seem to notice. “We’ll have a couple of burgers, fries, and beer. Make it Red Dog.”
“Will do.”
“And two side orders of coleslaw.”
Jane could barely resist rolling her eyes at his high-handedness. “Make that a cobb salad for me, no bacon, light with the cheese, dressing on the side, and a glass of skimmed milk.”
Kevin grimaced. “You serious?”
“Brain food.”
“Whatever.”
The waitress left. While they waited for their orders to arrive, Jane listened to a monologue whose central subject seemed to be Kevin Tucker. She bided her time until their food arrived, then she got down to business. “Exactly what are you up to?”
“What do you mean?”
“Why did you come to Salvation?”
“It’s a nice place.”
“There are a lot of nice places.” She drilled him with her schoolmarm eyes. “Kevin, put down those fries and tell me exactly what you’re doing here.” She realized she felt protective of Cal. How strange, especially considering how upset she was with him.
“Nothing.” He shrugged and returned a handful of fries to their blue plastic basket. “Just having a little fun, that’s all.”
“What do you want from him, other than his job?”
“Why would I want anything from him?”
“You wouldn’t be here otherwise.” She rubbed her thumb along her milk glass. “Sooner or later he’ll have to retire, and then the job’ll be yours. Why can’t you just wait?”
“Because I should have it now!”
“Apparently the coaches don’t agree.”
“They’re fools!”
“You seem to go out of your way to give him a hard time. Why is that? Just because you’re rivals doesn’t mean you have to be enemies.”
His expression grew sullen, making him look younger than his years. “Because I hate his guts.”
“If I hated someone as much as you seem to hate Cal, I’d do my best to stay away from him.”
“You don’t understand.”
“Explain it.”
“I— He’s a real prick, that’s all.”
“And?”
“He’s— I don’t know.” He looked down. Nudged the edge of his plate. “He’s a fairly decent coach.”
“Ahh.”
“What’s that mean?”
“Nothing. Just ahh.”
“You said it like it was supposed to mean something.”
“Does it?”
“Do you seriously think I’d want him coaching me, having him on my ass all the time yelling at me that my arm’s worthless because I don’t have a football brain to go with it? Believe me, that’s the last thing I need. I’m a damned good quarterback without his help.”
But an even better one with Cal’s help, Jane imagined. So that’s why Kevin was here. It wasn’t just Cal’s job he coveted; he also wanted Cal to coach him. But unless she missed her guess, he didn’t have a clue how to ask him and still hold on to his pride. She tucked the information away.
For his part, Kevin was tr
ansparently anxious to change the subject. “I’m sorry about that night at the hotel. I thought you were another groupie; I didn’t know the two of you were an item.”
“That’s all right.”
“You sure kept your relationship a secret.”
Not for the first time, she wondered about Junior and the other players who had arranged her birthday night visit. What had they made of all this? And more important, had they kept their mouths shut?
She decided to probe a bit. “A few people knew we were seeing each other.”
“Guys on the team?”
“A few.”
“They never told me.”
So Cal’s friends hadn’t talked.
“You sure don’t seem like his type.”
“Maybe you don’t know Cal as well as you think.”
“Maybe I don’t want to.” He sank his teeth into his burger, taking a bite too large to pass muster with any authority on etiquette. Still, his enthusiasm was contagious, and she realized she was hungry.
As she ate, he entertained her with funny stories, most of which were risqué. The fact that he was the central subject of each one should have put her off, but it didn’t. She had the feeling that his self-centeredness resulted from a lack of confidence he was determined to conceal from the world. Although there were a lot of reasons why she shouldn’t, she couldn’t help liking Kevin Tucker.
He finished his beer and grinned at her. “Are you interested in cheating on the Bomber? Because if you are, I think you and me could have a good thing going.”
“You’re impossible.”
He smiled, but his eyes were sober. “I know on the surface, we don’t have too much in common, and you’re a couple of years older than me, but I like being with you. You understand things. And you’re a good listener.”
“Thank you.” She couldn’t help smiling back. “I like being with you, too.”
“But you probably wouldn’t be interested in an affair, would you? I mean, you only got married a couple of weeks ago.”
“There is that.” She knew she shouldn’t be enjoying this, but her confidence had been badly shattered last night, and Kevin Tucker was adorable. Still, she had enough sins on her conscience without pumping up her ego at the expense of his. “How old are you?”
“Twenty-five.”
“I’m thirty-four. Nine years older than you.”
“I don’t believe it. You’re nearly as old as the Bomber.”
“ ’Fraid so.”
“I don’t care.” His lips tightened into a stubborn line. “The Bomber might care about all that age stuff, but it doesn’t mean anything to me. The only thing is…” He looked vaguely chagrined. “As much as I hate the Bomber’s guts, I’ve sort of made it a policy not to screw around with married women.”
“Good for you.”
“You like that?”
“It speaks well of you.”
“Yeah, I guess it does.” He looked pleased and reached across the table and took her hand. “Promise me something, Jane. If you and the Bomber split, promise that you’ll give me a call.”
“Oh, Kevin, I really don’t think—”
“Well, now, isn’t this cozy.”
A deep, belligerent voice cut her off, and her head snapped up in time to watch Calvin James Bonner charging toward them looking like a blast furnace about to erupt. She half expected to see ribbons of smoke sliding from his nostrils, and she tried to pull her hand away from Kevin’s grasp, but, naturally, he held her fast. She should have known he wouldn’t miss such a golden opportunity to aggravate her husband.
“Hey, there, old man. Me and the missus was just havin’ ourselves a little chat. Pull up a chair and join us.”
Cal ignored him and gave Jane a visual blast with enough power to explode a mushroom cloud over the western half of North Carolina. “Let’s go.”
“I’m not quite finished with my lunch.” She gestured toward her half-eaten salad.
“Oh, you’re finished, all right.” He snatched the salad out from under her and dumped what was left of it on Kevin’s plate.
Her eyes widened. Was she wrong, or could she possibly be witnessing a major jealousy tantrum? Her spirits rose several more notches even as she tried to figure out how she wanted to handle this. Should she make a scene in public or in private?
Kevin took the decision out of her control by springing to his feet. “You son of a bitch!”
A fist flew, and the next thing she knew, Kevin was lying on the floor. With a hiss of alarm, she jumped up and rushed to him. “Kevin, are you all right?” She glared up at her husband. “You cretin!”
“He’s a pansy. I barely touched him.”
Kevin spouted a mouth-soaper of an obscenity, and as he scrambled to his feet, she reminded herself that she was dealing with two overgrown male children, both of whom were hot-tempered and intensely physical. “Stop it right now!” she exclaimed as she rose. “This isn’t going any farther.”
“You want to settle it outside?” Cal sneered at Kevin.
“No! I’m gonna kick your ass right here.”
Kevin shoved Cal in the chest. Cal stumbled backward, but didn’t fall.
Jane’s hands flew to her cheeks. They were starting a barroom brawl, and unless she was mistaken, one of the things they were fighting over was her! She pushed the enticing thought away by reminding herself that she abhorred violence, and she had to put a stop to it.
“There will be no ass kicking!” She used her sternest voice, the one that she occasionally employed with rowdy third-grade boys. But these boys paid no attention. Instead, Cal threw Kevin into a barstool, then Kevin dragged Cal against the wall. A framed Sports Illustrated cover showing her husband taking off his helmet came crashing down.
Jane knew she couldn’t overpower them physically, so she tried another tactic. Reaching behind the bar, she snatched up one of the dispenser hoses, aimed it at the two brawlers, and pushed the trigger. It was either water or club soda, she couldn’t tell which, but it lost too much of its power by the time it reached them to have any effect.
She spun toward the onlookers, who’d gotten up from their chairs to watch, and implored several of the men. “Do something, will you? Stop them!”
They ignored her.
For a moment she considered letting them beat each other’s brains out, but they were too strong, and she didn’t have the stomach for it. She swept up a full beer pitcher from the top of the bar, rushed over, and flung it at them.
They gasped, sputtered, and went right back to pulverizing each other as if nothing had happened. It was an unpleasant reminder of exactly how tough they were.
Kevin slammed his fist into Cal’s stomach, then Cal delivered a solid punch to Kevin’s chest. None of the businessmen or retirees watching showed any inclination to help, so she knew she was on her own, but the only other action she could think of went against her grain. Still, she couldn’t come up with a better idea so she sat down on a barstool, dragged in a huge gulp of air, and began to scream at the top of her lungs.
The sound was annoying, even to her, but she kept at it. The onlookers immediately shifted their attention from the fight to the crazed blonde sitting on a barstool wailing like a banshee. Cal got so distracted that he allowed Kevin to catch him in the side of his head. Then Kevin lost his focus and ended up on the floor.
She sucked in more air and kept screaming.
“Will you stop it!” Cal bellowed, staggering away from the wall.
She was starting to get dizzy, but she forced herself to let loose a fresh stream of shrieks.
Kevin scrambled up from the floor, his chest heaving. “What’s wrong with her?”
“She’s hysterical.” Cal wiped the beer from his eyes with the back of his hand, dragged in some air, and lurched toward her with a purposeful gleam in his eye. “I’m going to have to slap her.”
“Don’t you dare!” she yelped.
“Got to.” The gleam in his eye now had a faintly d
iabolical cast to it.
“Touch me and I’ll scream!”
“Don’t touch her!” three people in the crowd called out at once.
She crossed her arms over her chest and glared at the onlookers. “You could have helped, you know, and then this wouldn’t have been necessary.”
“It’s only a bar fight,” Kevin grumbled. “No reason to make such a big deal out of it.”
Cal took her arm and pulled her down off the barstool. “She’s a little high-strung.”
“I’ll say.” Kevin pulled up his shirttail to wipe the beer from his face. A cut on his cheekbone was bleeding, and one eye had puffed up.
A middle-aged man wearing a starched white shirt and black bow tie regarded her curiously. “Who is she, anyway?”
Cal pretended not to hear.
“Darlington,” she said, holding out her hand to shake. “Jane Darlington.”
“She’s my wife,” Cal muttered.
“Your wife?” The man looked faintly bewildered as he took her hand.
“The same,” she replied.
“This is Harley Crisp. He runs the local hardware store.” Jane had never heard a more begrudging introduction.
Harley dropped Jane’s hand and turned to Cal. “How come when she finally showed up here, she was with Tucker and not you?”
Cal clenched his jaw. “They’re old friends.”
Jane realized everyone in the bar was now assessing her, and none of them looked particularly friendly.
“Nice you could finally spare the time to come meet the people who live here, Miz Bonner,” Harley said.
She heard several other hostile murmurs, including one from the attractive bartender, and knew that the story of Cal’s chilly scientist wife who thought she was more important than everyone else had spread.
Cal diverted the crowd’s attention by directing the bartender to put the damages on Kevin’s lunch tab. Kevin looked sulky, like a kid who’d been sent to his room. “You threw the first punch.”
Cal ignored him. Instead, he grabbed Jane with a hand still damp from beer and headed toward the front door.
“Nice to have met you all,” she tossed back over her shoulder at the hostile crowd. “Although I would have appreciated a little more help.”