Overheard in the Diner: "So have you seen them? Lots of travel trailers and Gypsy wagons..."
"Vardos."
"Whatever. I usually agree with Hal, but I'm not sure we need a tourist attraction enough to invite Gypsies here."
Bruiser alternately snorted, whined, and scratched at the door just as the kettle began to whistle on the small kerosene stove sitting atop the original Aga stove. Fabian turned off the burner and poured water into a mug, then yawned and pushed his bare feet into moccasins. He grabbed the leash from an ornately painted rack of hooks by the door, causing the English bulldog to wag and circle in happy anticipation.
"Hold still," Fabian said, a smile in his voice, as he worked to snap the lead on the dog's collar. The close quarters didn't give as much of an assist as he might have liked. "You're certainly not being very helpful for someone who wants to go out so very badly," he told the dog. He grabbed his mug of tea, the only beverage Bruiser had the patience to wait for before his morning walk because it would steep as they moved along. Making the bed would be out of the question until they got back.
The sun was just over the horizon and the late May air was chilly. Fabian had never really been bothered by temperature. He wore the gym shorts he'd slept in. The only concession to the pre-dawn spring chill he'd made was a college sweatshirt.
He paused on the steps of his Gypsy vardo, looking across the field. There was just enough light to reveal the outlines of the midway -- the peaked roofs of the tents, humps of trailers and skeletal frames of the Ferris wheel and taller rides. Bruiser pulled, expecting him to walk the carnival. Fabian turned instead. He didn't need to see it. He'd grown up in this carnival. His parents owned it, and he fully intended that this would be his last summer with it.
Bruiser resisted at first, confused, but obeyed the command to heel and trotted along the path Fabian chose through the woods. There were trees and bushes this way, and Bruiser sniffed and snorted happily.
Fabian sipped his tea, distracted, as Bruiser did his business. He'd had that dream again. It was almost like a memory, and that baffled him. He was tempted to ask his father to hypnotize him to see if it really was a memory. Some of his childhood had been lost when he'd had rheumatic fever as a boy. His memories of life before age eleven tended to be sketchy, and sometimes hypnosis helped to fill in the blanks.
Bruiser finished and trotted along. It was getting lighter now, and the path opened up to a small pier that jutted out onto the lake. The lake was shrouded in morning mist as Fabian let Bruiser lead him onto the pier. He felt a creepy deja vu. He had seen this view before or something very like it; the scenery was weirdly familiar. He'd needed to take his brother to the emergency room the night before, and the hospital had been oddly familiar, too. Bruiser sat, panting, and Fabian leaned against one of the pylons. The sun finally rose high enough to surmount the trees and illuminate the misty lake.
Fabian's breath caught in his throat and he spilled some tea down the front of his sweatshirt. Not far off shore was a gazebo-like floating pavilion. Just like the one he'd dreamed about the night before. The dream roared into his head -- the rocking of canoes, oars splashing, children laughing. The gazebo looming closer and closer. Shouted warnings. A large splash. Bubbles, a cloud of red blood and brown hair beneath the surface of the lake ....
A rooster crowed in the distance and broke the spell, bringing Fabian back to the present. He cursed, noticing the now-cold tea stain on his chest. He glanced once more at the pavilion. If that was the same one, then he certainly was in the right place to solve the mystery once and for all. He told Bruiser to heel and they started walking back to the Gypsy vardo he called home.
"I wouldn't want MY business all over town!"
"Well, you have to know who to talk to in there. If you can get Lisa alone, she listens, doesn't judge, and never talks."
What Lisa loved the most about the diner was how things were completely different during each meal shift. Early in the morning, the air was full of coffee and bacon, sweetened with syrup. Newspapers rustled; plates and utensils tinkled like wind chimes in the almost hush. Morning sun shone on the tables through the Venetian blinds and the jukebox was silent in favor of quiet conversation. Lunch was a little more rowdy and the most rushed since most customers only had a little time. After school the diner became a hangout for kids until almost dinnertime. It was then that the jukebox got a real workout. Dinner was a different experience entirely and always changing depending on what movie was playing or what was happening at the park or the camp. Today she was on the breakfast shift, which was her favorite.
A few nurses from the night shift at the cottage hospital sat in a booth toward the back. They were giggling, and obviously weren't ready to order. Lisa kept her eye on them so she'd be ready when they were. Her best friend's father, who owned the insurance company, had just arrived and settled in at the counter.
"Good morning, Mr. Wright." She approached him as he had just turned his coffee cup over, and she filled the cup with coffee.
"Good morning, Lisa. How are you doing today?" He looked up from the newspaper he'd brought and pushed his wire-rimmed glasses up his nose. He smiled at her.
"I'm just great!" she smiled back at him. "What can I get for you this morning? I saw a bearclaw and I believe it had your name on it."
Mr. Wright laughed.
"That sounds perfect, Lisa. You know that Annie's home for the weekend?"
"Yes -- she called last night. I'm meeting both Amy and Annie to go to the carnival after I get off work."
"Amy's expecting again -- you know that, right?" He looked pleased as Punch, and Lisa smiled again. Mr. and Mrs. Wright had not been very happy when Amy had gotten pregnant during their senior year of high school. It was the worst family fight she'd ever heard about, and the town buzzed for months. Once Amy was married and had had the baby, though, the family adjusted and the Wrights discovered they enjoyed having a grandson.
"Yes, I heard that," Lisa laughed..
"It is so hard to make an announcement in this town!" Mr. Wright complained cheerfully.
"To be fair," Lisa told him, "I work in the epicenter of gossip and your daughters have been my friends since we were tiny." She selected a bear claw from the assortment of breakfast pastries under the dome by the coffee maker, placed it on a small plate, and served it to Mr. Wright. He pulled his newspaper closer to read while he enjoyed his bear claw and coffee.
The bell on the door jingled and a young man in a blue mechanic's coverall came in. He had a plain, good face; handsome but not overly so. He looked preoccupied and took a seat just down the counter from Mr. Wright, pushed a long forelock of brown hair out of his eyes, and turned over his coffee cup.
"Good morning, Rodney," Lisa said. He looked at her like he hadn't noticed she was on the other side of the counter; perhaps he hadn't. "Coffee while I'm pouring?"
"Please." Rodney nodded and pushed his cup towards her.
"So do you have pies entered in the baking competition?" Mr. Wright wanted to know. Lisa smiled as she poured coffee for Rodney.
"Yes -- two of them. A lemon meringue and a cherry."
"I can't imagine that anyone thinks they can compete." George, the cook, peeked through the pass-through window. Lisa laughed and blushed.
"Oh, stop," she said, putting a small pitcher of cream and a bowl of sugars in front of Rodney. She looked again and was appalled.
"Rodney, are you all right?" she asked softly.
"Huh? What?" Rodney looked up at her.
"You usually take cream and two sugars. You're drinking black coffee."
Rodney coughed, sputtered, and made a disgusted face. Then he shook himself and set to work adjusting his coffee.
"If there's anything I can do to help or if you just want to talk, please let me know," she said. The bell on the door jingled again. Lisa looked over as the Mayor walked in.
"Hi, Daddy," she grinned. Lisa's father the Mayor looked more like the dairy farmer he'd been than the Mayor he was now. Sometimes people teased him that he looked like he'd just stepped out of Grant Woods' American Gothic. He took off his suit jacket and loosened his tie before heading to the counter.
"Hiya, Scooter." He gave her a kiss on the cheek before taking a seat at the counter next to Mr. Wright. "Abe."
"Hal."
The table of nurses seemed to be making an effort to look at their menus. Lisa eased out from behind the counter, taking the coffee pot with her.
"Honestly, he was grotesque," one of them was saying. "He had to be over 400 pounds!"
"But did you see his brother? What a difference! Hi, Lisa."
"Hi, Shelly." She poured coffee into the upturned cups at the table.
"Have any of the carnival people been in here?" Shelly wanted to know. Lisa shook her head.
"Not that I've noticed, but they haven't been here that long, either."
"We had one last night that you couldn't miss," one of the other nurses piped up.
"You couldn't miss either of them, but for different reasons," Shelly replied, setting the others to giggles again. "If you go to the carnival, Lisa, don't miss the strong man act. He is really, really handsome."
"Hunk-a-dory," one nurse agreed.
"Sex on a stick," piped up another.
Lisa laughed, put down the coffee pot and took out her order pad.
"Those shows are silly," she said. "What can I get for you ladies this morning? Your usual?" She took their orders and then took the slip and the coffee pot to the pass through window. She set to work making a fresh pot of coffee as Anne, George's wife, came out of the kitchen.
"Break time, Lisa," she announced.
"Really? Already?"
"Really. Already. Go sit for a while."
I heard he was a little wild. His parents couldn't do anything with him -- and they're Mennonites! -- so they sent him here to live with his uncle. He's better now -- finished high school and he's an excellent mechanic.
Lisa decided to sit outside and slipped out the door. In a few minutes, Rodney came out and sat next to her on the park bench in front of the diner.
"Were you serious?" he asked her. "That I can talk to you? She looked at him. He looked like he hadn't slept much.
"Of course I was serious. What can I do?"
"Do you know why I live here?" He started wringing his hands. Lisa almost wished that he smoked; he looked that upset.
"I know you live with your uncle, but I don't believe anyone ever mentioned why." He looked at her. His eyes were red. He hadn't shaved.
"I got a lady in trouble."
Lisa just looked back at him. She'd heard much worse, and had friends who'd been in that situation. Rodney fidgeted and looked at his hands.
"She ... her name was Marlene, and she wasn't very nice," he said. "She wasn't a kid -- she was a grown lady. It was two years ago." Now that did surprise Lisa. She knew that right now Rodney was barely eighteen. When he'd arrived in Twin Mills, he'd attended the high school and was two years behind her. She schooled her face so that nothing registered and he would be encouraged to go on.