Part 6 (1/2)
”Is this an epidemic?” a male reporter asked.
” 'Epidemic' is not a word that applies here,” Coleman answered. ”Our medical staff in Sunflower County is on top of this. Experts have been consulted. We have the sick people isolated, and this is under control, but there is no indication that this is a problem with the potential of spreading. It is contained.”
”What does the CDC have to say?” another reporter called out.
Bonnie Louise's tone was crisp and authoritative, but it still contained a trace of drawl. ”We have full faith that in a matter of hours we'll have an explanation for the illness, which I point out has not spread. Sheriff Peters and his men, the county medical staff, everyone is working with us. We have four very sick people, but this is not an epidemic and there is no reason to panic.”
”Will Sunflower County be quarantined?” a female reporter asked.
”There are no plans to impose a countywide quarantine. Things are under control.” Bonnie Louise answered each question head-on, and I had to admire her for that.
”My office will issue a daily statement updating the media on any new information,” Coleman said. ”Thank you for coming.”
The press conference was over. Leaning over the balcony, I caught a glimpse of him stepping back from the microphone. Bonnie Louise had her hand on his arm and a carnivorous smile on her face.
A cool spring dusk fell over the land as I drove home toward a sky glowing with peaches and lavenders. The sycamore trees that lined the drive of Dahlia House had budded into green. This time of year, every living thing seemed to jump into life. I pulled up to the front, where I was greeted by Sweetie Pie and Chablis. The little dustmop looked fine, but her near death in Costa Rica had left me anxious. Tinkie was counting on me to keep Chablis safe.
The dogs followed me to the barn, where I fed Reveler, my Connemara cross, and Miss Sc.r.a.piron, a beautiful mahogany Thoroughbred mare. Lee, my childhood friend who ran a breeding farm, had brought both horses back to Dahlia House. Had darkness not been upon me, I would have saddled up for a ride.
The dogs led me to the house. Inside, a huge chicken potpie sat on the kitchen counter. Millie had stopped by and left food. I dished up three bowls and settled in for dinner with my companions.
We were finis.h.i.+ng when the phone rang. To my delight, it was Graf. I needed a dose of surrealism from Hollywood to put my day in perspective.
”Sarah Booth, I have four scripts here for you. Everyone wants you on a project.”
”Really?” My stomach tightened and I felt a pang of nausea. Hollywood was far from conquered in my opinion. I'd barely nicked the surface of that tough city.
”Two of them look great. Want me to send them down to you?”
”Sure.” Graf made me smile. ”Thank you.”
”For sending the scripts?”
”For being you.” I gripped the phone so tightly, my hand cramped. ”I miss you, Graf.” I felt empty without him. The idea of going up to my old childhood bedroom, alone, was almost unbearable. The term was old-fas.h.i.+oned, but I ”longed” for him.
”You sound pitiful,” he said. ”Say the word and I'll be there.”
”No.” I couldn't allow my weakness to spoil his shot at a film. ”How's it going for you?”
”I took a meeting this morning with Ethan and Joel and they are so smart. I can't wait for this film to start shooting. It's the best role I've ever been offered.”
Excitement rippled in his voice, and I closed my eyes and imagined that he was in the room talking with me instead of a continent away. ”Tell me about your part.”
He spoke for ten minutes about the role he'd accepted and the shooting schedule. I loved listening to him, the sense of being included in a special and very private world. I missed Graf and the movie business.
”You'll be fabulous,” I a.s.sured him. ”That part was written for you.”
”So you think I'm gunslinger material?”
”You have the flair for it, and the looks, and the smile. You could steal a herd of cows and the lady rancher's heart.”
He laughed, pleased at my blatant flattery. ”They wanted you, too.”
I almost asked him not to make it any harder on me, but I couldn't. ”I'll find the perfect role once Oscar is well.”
”Absolutely.”
I heard the beep of his other line. It was still business hours in Hollywood.
”I love you,” he said.
”Words to sleep by,” I answered before we hung up, and I was alone in Dahlia House with two dogs and a potpie.
”You got a roof over your head, food to eat, and money in your pocket. Why so down?” Jitty stepped over Sweetie Pie, who'd fallen into a food coma beside the table.
She still looked like a refugee from a hunger camp. Her clothes were worn and torn, her face lined with worry.
”For goodness' sake, have some chicken potpie.” I pushed the pan toward her.
”It isn't food I need,” she said, ”but you have some more. You're lookin' too thin.”
”Do you realize that you're impossible to please? I'm too heavy, too thin, too busy, too lazy, too here or too gone.”
”What's got you in such a fractious mood?” she asked.
”I miss Graf. I miss making movies.”
She sat down at the table, her silver bracelets jingling softly as they slid down her arm. ”You gave up a lot for friends.h.i.+p.” For once she wasn't deviling me.
”And I don't regret it at all. It's just that I feel useless. I haven't accomplished anything. Oscar is still at death's door, and Tinkie is suffering. I don't know a single thing more today than I did three days ago.”
”The fact that Oscar, Gordon, Regina, and Luann are hangin' on is a good thing. And no one else has come down with this epizootis. Now that's got to count for somethin'.”
”It does?”
”You're on the trail of figurin' it out.”
”I wouldn't go that far.” I twirled my spoon in the chicken potpie. ”I want to fix this.”
”Back during the Great Depression, folks got caught up in a lot of things they couldn't stop or control. Hard times touched most ever'body.”
”I don't know if I can stand to hear about this.” I looked around the kitchen. Outside, night had almost fallen. I heard Reveler's soft whicker and Miss Sc.r.a.piron's answer.
”You can leave this and go to Graf, you know.”
”I can't--”