Just to play it safe, Ricky waited another fifteen minutes in the parking lot before going inside. The entrance fee was ridiculous. Three dollars, and for what? A joke of a DJ and decorations that looked like they’d been designed by high school students. The beverages cost extra too. At least the snacks were free.
Ricky got himself a can of Schlitz and a handful of pretzels. He stood with his back to the wall and surveyed the room, looking for Kathleen. He’d purposely worn his gray-tinted sunglasses. The lenses were light enough not to look too odd worn indoors but dark enough to obscure his identity. Between the sunglasses, beard, and the baseball cap, he was fairly certain Kathleen wouldn’t recognize him.
When he finally caught sight of Kathleen, she was slow dancing with Joe, her body pressed right up against his, cheek resting on his shoulder, eyes closed. He watched, feeling anger build until rage threatened to overtake his body. Ricky dropped the remaining pretzel, and his fingers tightened at his side. He could almost envision the sound of his fist as it slammed against Joe’s jaw. That wuss would be no match for a real man. Ricky could pulverize him in no time at all.
He wanted to take those cheesy suspenders and wrap them around Joe’s throat, tightening and tightening until Joe couldn’t breathe, and then, once the loser had passed out, he’d finish him off by grabbing his jaw and snapping his neck.
But if he did that right now, he’d look like a monster to Kathleen.
Ricky took a deep breath and willed himself to look elsewhere, glancing around the barn and finally settling on a woman pushing a boy in a wheelchair around the perimeter of the crowd. One of the wheels was askew, and she had to keep shifting it constantly to get it to work smoothly. The boy’s head lolled to one side. Why the woman even bothered to bring him Ricky didn’t know. If it were up to him, he’d leave the kid at home. She was probably one of those martyr types who thought her good deeds would earn her a crown in heaven.
Ha. She wished.
The truth of it was that there was nothing after death but a black void. That was the reason Ricky went for what he wanted every single time. This life, this moment, was all there was. Grab and get it while the getting is good. The idea of a heavenly reward was a myth for the stupid and gullible.
Watching the woman and her boy distracted him for the better. His anger subsided; his heart rate slowed.
A young woman came up to him. “Hello there.” Her hair was feathered and curled, her white T-shirt sheer enough that he could see the black lace bra underneath. When he glanced down, he noticed her mouth was shiny with lip gloss. She said, “Are you here by yourself?”
“What?” he asked. Normally, she’d be as tempting as cheese spread on a cracker, but he had no time or patience for her right now. “Oh, yeah, I’m here by myself.” He kept his eyes on the swaying crowd. The disco ball overhead cast beams of light in kaleidoscopic patterns around the room.
“Want to dance?”
“No. I don’t want to dance.”
“Okay,” she said, an edge to her voice. “Be that way. I’ll just leave you alone, then.”
He watched her walk away, her hips purposefully swaying. Man, that was one fine piece of ass. Downright bodacious in a way Kathleen never could be. He faltered for an instant, considered going after the young woman, and then held himself back. Girls like that were side dishes. There would be time for that down the road. Tonight, he had to focus. He was there for one reason and one reason only. To get his wife back.
If only Kathleen knew all the sacrifices he’d made for her. Someday she would. He’d tell her how heroic he’d been once they were back together. He’d gone above and beyond what the average man would do, that much was sure. His story would go down the line to future generations. A family legend of undying love and devotion.
He peered around the hall and got Kathleen and Joe back in his sights, watching as they talked from the sideline chairs for what seemed like forever. Eventually, they got up and danced again, then sat and talked some more. When the wheelchair duo came rolling in front of them, Joe jumped up and said something to the woman, then knelt and made some adjustment to the wheels, all the while talking to the boy in the chair. In response, the kid flapped his hands excitedly. Standing up, Joe brushed his hands against his pants and made a gesture as if to say that was as good as it got. The woman nodded and continued on.
Idiot. What a do-gooder.
When Joe and Kathleen got up an hour later and headed for the exit, Ricky followed, slipping through the door only minutes behind them.
CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
1916
John steered the buckboard down the drive toward the barn. Mr. Wilson, one of the men who brought his grain to the mill, was there to greet them. He grabbed the horse’s halter and pulled, lining the wagon up alongside some others, then told John, who was helping Alice and Pearl down off the seat, “I will handle this, John.” He nodded toward a paddock where a few other horses grazed while their owners socialized. “Just take the ladies inside and have a good time. I’ll make sure your mare joins the others.”
“Thank you, Mr. Wilson.” He doffed his brimmed hat toward the older man.
“We came too early, John,” Pearl grumbled as she walked across the gravel, clutching John’s arm. She’d noticed John crooking an elbow for Alice and took it upon herself to take hold of his other side. “There’s hardly anyone here.” Pearl kicked at the gravel in annoyance.
“It was my idea to leave so early,” Alice reminded her. “I wanted to have a full evening, with not a minute wasted.”
“I know, but I just hate being one of the first to arrive. It makes me look too eager.”
Alice laughed. “You are such a funny girl, Pearl. I’m so glad you’re my sister.”
Pearl frowned. “And I do wish we had long white gloves, and I would give anything to have a fan like real ladies do when they go to dances.”
“We will have a grand time even without gloves and fans,” Alice said cheerfully. “Besides, this is the Barn Dance, not some high-society event. No one expects us to be dressed to the nines.”
At the door, a plump elderly woman sold John their tickets and laid out the rules for the evening. “No liquor is allowed on the premises, and young people will be expected to conduct themselves as ladies and gentlemen. Couples who are dancing must have a respectable space between them. Scandalous behavior will not be tolerated, and young ladies will be escorted home if there is even a hint of impropriety.”
“Yes, ma’am,” John said.
Once inside, all of them paused to survey the room. From the outside, the barn had looked like any other barn, but inside, it had been transformed into a place of wonder. Tables arranged around the edge of the room were covered with linen tablecloths and adorned with flowers in glass vases. Kerosene lanterns sat on shelves along the outside walls and hung overhead between large swaths of sheer, colorful fabric. On one side of the room, a long table held several punch bowls and plates of desserts: cakes and pies and cookies of every kind. A band was busily setting up chairs and music stands on a low stage at the far end. The hardwood floor had been polished to a high sheen. A few other early arrivals—including Edna, Mrs. Donohue, and Howie—stood clustered near one of the punch bowls.