“All right. I’d love to.” She relented.
“Great!” Bridgette pulled on her arm as she led them toward her aunt’s office building.
By the time they arrived, Bridgette was holding her hand and Deborah didn’t mind in the least.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
I wish I still had long enough hair to pull in a ponytail. Deborah grimaced as she played with her hair.
I’m going to puke. Sitting on the toilet seat, she held a palm to her churning stomach. She nibbled on her pinkie nail, only stopping before she tore it off. She really needed to be in more control and stop this new nasty habit she’d picked up ever since she left Nevada. Taking deep breaths, she fluffed the skirt of her new dress, loving the way it brushed her legs.
She rose from her seat and twirled slowly around the room. Her skirt flared out, and she fixed the spaghetti strap falling down her arm. She left the top button undone since the bodice was a bit constricting. When she had tried it on, she’d noticed the tightness, happy she’d put on more weight and didn’t look skeletal as she once had. It made sense since she was eating foods she wasn’t allowed to eat over the past four years.
“I’ve really got to do something with my hair.” She grabbed a short, spiky piece and picked up the sparkling pink butterfly hair clip Bridgette had urged her to buy.
Smiling, she clipped it close to the side of her left ear. Perfect! Just like the day had been with Bridgette.
Bridgette had given her a tour of Woodberry Creek, going as far as to introduce her to many of the people and business owners. She greeted them with restraint at first, but since Bridgette’s joy was contagious, she enjoyed chatting with her new neighbors. By midafternoon, she was on a first-name basis with some, the names she could remember, and accumulated bags filled with more items for her house, as well as clothes and trinkets for her hair Bridgette helped her pick out.
Finally she admitted how tired she was, and, without any argument, they grabbed her paint and headed home to relax for a few hours before they went to the dance.
Her stomach rolled again, and she groaned. The last time she’d danced was at her wedding, and even then she had two left feet. Maybe she could sit off to the side and watch the festivities until the fireworks went off.
The doorbell released a sharp ring, and she took one last look at her reflection in the mirror. Her face no longer looked gaunt, and, even though the shadows under her eyes were still there, they weren’t as prominent as before.
When the bell went off a second time, she grabbed her purse, pulled on her white sandals, and walked down the stairs to meet her new friend.
Yes, a friend. Bridgette is my friend, that’s all.
She looked through the peephole. Smiling, she opened the door to Bridgette, who wore a short denim skirt with a bright gold belt around the waist and a white tube top with red glittery dots on her chest. Her hair was a riot of red curls held back with a headband to match her belt.
“Don’t you look like a firework?” she teased, and ducked her head after giving Bridgette a thorough stare.
“Wow, Sharon, you’re beautiful.” Bridgette stretched her hand out. She remained still as Bridgette fixed the shoulder strap that had fallen again. When her hand dropped, she pressed her fingers on her shoulder, where her skin tingled.
“Thanks for the compliment,” she said when she found her voice again. For some reason her mouth had gone dry.
“Back at ya.” Bridgette slid her hands in her skirt pockets and rocked on her heels. “Are you ready to go?”
“Yes.” She shut the door behind her. After she locked it, she climbed down the stairs with Bridgette beside her. Their bare shoulders brushed, and she barely kept a whimper from erupting.
The moment they reached the sidewalk, barks from Bridgette’s house rang out.
Deborah giggled when she noticed Rotquel leaning on the front window. “Ah, the poor girl misses you.”
Bridgette rolled her eyes. “She hates being locked up. I usually put her in the backyard, but I’m afraid she’ll go crazy when the fireworks go off.” She waved as they walked past her frowning next-door neighbor standing on her porch. “Hey, Mrs. Heckel. How’s it going? Are you going to the dance or the fireworks?”
The older woman compressed her lips in a straight line. “I plan to, if only to get away from your dog’s annoying yapping.”
“You know Rotquel will quiet down in a few minutes.” Bridgette winked.
“I need a drink,” the irritated woman grumbled loudly and went inside her house.
Deborah covered her mouth and laughed. “She really doesn’t like Rotquel.”
“She’s all talk.” Bridgette flapped her hand. “I’ve caught her throwing pieces of meat over the fence for Rotquel and overheard her giving Rotquel compliments when she thinks I’m not listening.”
“That’s too funny,” Deborah said as they crossed the street.
Bridgette bumped her arm. “I know Rotquel would love to see you again. How about after the fireworks, you stop in to say hello to her?”
“O-okay.” She wondered what else Bridgette had planned other than visiting her dog.
She stared out of the corner of her eye at Bridgette, who hummed under her breath. She waved at people standing in front of their houses and called out greetings to some. Her face was open and so innocent looking that Deborah decided she’d never be the type to do something deceitful.
“Hey, you, why so silent?” Bridgette bumped her, this time her fingers coming in contact with hers. When Bridgette linked their hands and swung their arms, Deborah joined along.
“I was just thinking it’s been so long since I’ve been to a dance. I can’t dance to save my life. It’s embarrassing,” she admitted as she heard live music off in the distance.
Bridgette gave her hand a squeeze. “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure you don’t embarrass yourself.”
She nodded, knowing Bridgette would be by her side the entire time to make sure she didn’t fumble.
* * * *
The bathroom wall was cool on her back. Deborah closed her eyes and gulped in air. She’d almost ruined everything and panicked. Bridgette had introduced her to her father and uncle, and proceeded to tell them what an incredible graphic artist she was even without seeing any of her supposed amazing work.
“Shit. Why didn’t I think of some other profession?” She covered her face. She had thrown out the first thing that had come to her mind and wanted to impress Bridgette, who was an artist herself. And now she was screwed. She’d never thought word would spread and people might hire her to create their web pages as well as update the sites of both the police and mayor’s office.
Her head throbbed painfully, and she leaned over the sink, closing her mouth to keep from vomiting. Everything had been going so well! She’d really enjoyed meeting Bridgette’s brother, Bryan, and even her parents who, although they seemed overly interested in Bridgette’s private life, were sweet and friendly people—much like their daughter.