Chasing Rainbows A Novel - By Long, Kathleen Page 0,21
a piece of his mind.
I slid out of bed and pulled out Dad’s book out of my bureau. I climbed back into bed, plumped my pillows and flipped the pages open to the next puzzle.
What felt like hours later, I stretched and studied the cryptogram’s message, proud I’d managed the solution but a bit sad my father had felt the need to gather these messages for me.
Had I become so pathetic he thought motivational quotes were the only way to save me?
I read the message again and realized Dad was trying to tell me he didn’t think me pathetic at all.
I smiled.
Then I shut the book, closed my eyes and fell asleep.
o0o
“What counts is not necessarily the size of the dog in the fight, it’s the size of the fight in the dog.”
On Halloween, David told me to skip coming over to the rink. There weren’t too many kids who’d choose ice skating over trick-or-treating.
I’d prepared for the onslaught of costumed kids the only way I knew how--by buying six bags of candy when experience told me I only needed five. If everything went according to plan, I’d keep my chocolate consumption to two thousand calories or less, yet still be on a satisfying sugar-high by the end of the night.
As daylight turned to dusk, however, I was partway through my second bag and the laws of supply and demand indicated the kiddies might be in for a disappointment.
The crowds were heavier than in years past, and the little ghosts and goblins and vamps seemed to have three hands each. I’d never seen such efficient grabbing. Every mother had perfected her delivery of the phrase “Just one, honey” using a high-pitched, singsong voice, but not a one fooled me. The way I saw it, each kid had been coached to grab whatever he or she could get to ensure an ample supply for mom and dad at the end of the night.
After all, that’s the way I’d handle it.
Halloween never failed to be a rough night for me. I did my best not to imagine what Emma might be wearing, but it was impossible not to.
I had never thought she’d go the traditional princess route. I imagined her rather as a throwback to the classics. Maybe a cowgirl, complete with lasso.
Her dark hair would be bobbed adorably short, smooth waves curling up beneath the rim of her pink cowboy hat. Poindexter would play the part of her loyal pony. He, of course, would wear a cowboy hat of his own, complaining not in the least.
I embraced the mental picture as a pair of little girls waved happily to me and took off with half of my remaining stash. When a car pulled into my driveway, I frowned.
The car wasn’t one I recognized, and I hadn’t ordered a delivery of any sort. Surely trick-or-treating by automobile was outside the parameters of acceptable behavior.
The driver’s door opened and a lanky man unfolded himself from his seat, leaving the lights on and the car running as he approached the front door.
“Can I help you?” I asked, still clutching what was left of my basket of miniature candies.
“Bernadette Murphy?” He stopped just short of where I stood, studying me.
I nodded. “That’s me.”
He held out a folded document and I took it in my free hand, still frowning.
“Consider yourself served.”
The stranger pivoted on one heel and made it back to his car and out of my drive before the reality of what had just happened registered.
I’d been served. And I had a pretty good idea of with what.
I dropped to the front step and set the basket on the walkway. The motion set off the skeleton I’d hung from the shepherd’s crook I’d never gotten around to hanging flowers on over the summer.
When you go out in the woods tonight...
I sucked in the deepest breath I could manage and unfolded the document.
...you’re in for a big surprise.
Ryan Murphy vs. Bernadette Murphy.
My head bobbed as if it were suddenly too heavy for my neck.
“Trick or treat.”
I looked up from the papers. A three-foot-tall fireman stood before me, but I found it impossible to coax my mouth into forming words. I picked up the basket and handed it to him, pushing myself to my feet.
He stared at me, wide-eyed beneath his fireman’s hat.
“Take it.” I managed to whisper, afraid that if I tried to do or say anything more, the anger