Disclaimer: Did you read chapter one? Same story. :)
A/N: A special thanks to Dawnie7, the most loyal reader a writer could ask for. I checked my stats and this story got 50 hits...fifty hits and one reivew? Well, I'm not going to whine about it, I've done my share of reading and not reviewing. It would just be nice to get some feedback, y'know? Courtesy? Anyway...here's the update I promised, a few minutes later but still like I promised.
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It was the sun in her eyes that finally woke her up. Warm and bright, it peered right down into her face, penetrating her eyelids with a brilliant yellow-orange-red blur that was painful when she finally opened her eyes. Henna ducked away, and then groaned. Her neck and shoulders were stiff from being hunched over all night, and when she checked the kitchen clock, she was dismayed to find that it was almost noon.
She hadn't meant to stay here this long.
Rubbing her neck and shoulders as well as she could, she also flexed her arms several times, back and forth, going faster and faster. She'd done worse damage to herself riding for too long, she decided, and was just about to see if there was anything to drink other than well water when she heard the hum of a car.
Standing up, she realized that the car was coming right up the drive. She went to the kitchen window and saw a white Jeep with the word "Dixie" painted over its hood, and a familiar blond head at the wheel.
She bridled. He had a lot of nerve…but no, he wasn't alone. The familiar, rotund form of Uncle Jesse was in the back, and she recognized Daisy – of course, Daisy was impossible not to recognize, not with those legs – and noted with some puzzlement the rather large picnic basket the two were toting between them.
Letting the curtain slide back, she immediately realized that her vanity was at stake. She sprinted down the short hallway into the bathroom, which smelled dry and musty after being out of commission for so long, and tried to turn on the light. Luckily there was enough light coming from the window so that when the bulb wouldn't come on she didn't feel the urge to swear too loudly.
Her face was red and lumpy, half of it pressed in from the wooden table, the other half swollen from where she'd been crying. Her eyes were red and her hair hung limp and dead at her shoulders and down her back. There was no way in heaven or hell she was going to be seen like this, and went for her bag, trying to find her brush, and simultaneously almost washing her face with what passed for water in the pipes. Almost, because once she saw the brown consistency, she did swear and started to rub her wet hands on her pant legs in disgust.
She managed to dig out some cleansing pads from her pack and wipe them over her face, but there wasn't much she could do about her eyes. Hair brushed, she realized she was out of time and it just didn't matter. Someone was attempting to turn the doorknob, and was obviously surprised to find that it wouldn't give.
She stormed over to the door and slammed the locks back. The act of making the noise seemed to satisfy her tension, and she ripped the door open, stepping out, making Uncle Jesse, the culprit as it turned out, take a step back down the stairs.
"Can I help you?" she demanded, her eyes flickering over the miniaturized parade. Daisy was at Jesse's elbow, Luke a bit farther back, and Bo firmly planted at the wheel, not having moved. She almost smirked. He looked sufficiently cowed, she thought, but then the thought that he wasn't directly in front of her ready for more of what she was so desperate to dish out just irked her more. It was irrational, but grief was like that.
"Henri-Mae," Jesse said with a smile in greeting. He held out the picnic basket. "The boys told me you were in town. I wanted to bring you something, I know the house is pretty bare—"
She folded her arms and leaned against the doorframe, the very picture of indifference. "And what, I'm supposed to be grateful?"
Balladeer: Now you can bet that that comment brought Bo out of the jeep and on his feet. It was one thing to attack him, but to disrespect Uncle Jesse right in front of him was another.
The harshness of her voice surprised even her for a moment, and the uncharacteristic twist of guilt as Uncle Jesse, who was not Bo, she reminded herself, looked taken aback. "Well, your dad and I were good friends, and I just wanted to—"
She laughed. A bleak, soulless laugh. "Friends," she said. "Is that why you let him die?"
"Now wait a minute," Luke said. "That isn't fair—"
She silenced him with a glare and felt a shred of triumph.
Balladeer: Not many people can make Luke Duke speechless; that is one aaaaangry girl.
"My father had cancer. He had it for three years. He didn't get any treatment, he just rotted away and died." She turned her eyes back on Jesse. "Why the hell didn't you do something about it? You were his friend, why didn't you make him get treatment?"
Jesse had always had a comforting affect on her when she was younger. The friendship between him and her father had been one of the few cornerstones of her life. But after her mother had walked out, all Henna had really felt toward Uncle Jesse was a simmering resentment that the man who seemed to be able to fix anything had utterly failed them. And now was no different.
Still, the older man was stepping very carefully. Gently, in that same voice he had always used to explain things to obstinate people, he said, "Well, Henri-Mae, I did try."
"You tried," she said blandly.
"Your father had a will of his own," Jesse said, his voice still cautious. He looked reluctant, but the words were coming. "Cyrus just…he just didn't seem to have a will to live, not after your mother…and then you…"
Wrong thing to say. Her face flushed crimson and her hands were down on her hips in tightly clenched fists before the General could whistle Dixie. "What are you saying?" she snapped, taking a step forward and making the older man step back. "That it's my fault? That I'm the reason he's dead?" By the last word, she was practically shrieking.
Balladeer: If I were Luke or Daisy I'd get ready to jump in and hide her if she dares raise a hand against Uncle Jesse.
"My fault!" she screamed, pushing them all back a few inches. "He gave up the will to live because of me! Is that what you're saying?"
"Now, Henri-Mae," Jesse said, on the ropes and not doing too well. "I didn't say that… but he made his own choice—"
"And he chose to die because of me, that's what you're saying!" She stepped back, afraid that she might hurt him, and she was pretty sure she couldn't take both Luke and Daisy on at the same time. "Well…well…" Rage bubbled and overflowed, choking her words.
"No, no, not at all!" Jesse tried, but it was useless.
"Take your picnic basket," she said, pointing, "and shove it up your ass! I don't want anything from you or your family," she added with particular contempt, hand swinging toward Bo, "and I swear to God if you ever set foot on my father's farm again, I'll get out his old shotgun and put you all down like rabbit dogs!" She stepped back and swung the door shut, the thunderous crack of the wood hitting wood accentuating her last words like a gigantic exclamation point.
Jesse stood and look at the closed door, shaken. He turned and glanced at his wards, and then shrugged, defeated. "Let's go home," he said, his voice exhausted.
"What about the basket, Uncle Jesse?" Daisy asked, her voice as small as a child.
"Leave it on the step," Jesse said. "Just in case she gets hungry and changes her mind."
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She was sobbing, she realized, again, adding with disgust. She couldn't bear to look at the Dukes standing outside through the door's window, and she couldn't bear going deeper into the house, so she turned around and slid to the floor with her back against the door. After letting the storm ride, she felt herself calm a little, and then soon she was hiccupping softly, the fit having passed.
She looked around the kitchen. Something felt strange, after that explosion. She felt better, and at the same time, she felt worse. After a considerable time basking in this feeling, trying to decipher it, she pulled herself to her feet.
Even though it was late in the day, she was still exhausted…but after that shake up there was no way she could think about getting any more rest. And after a few yards walk through the house, she realized that it was even more unthinkable that she could sleep here, in this place. The memories pressed in on her like smog, making it hard to breathe.
She couldn't even go into her own bedroom.
She went back into the bathroom. In her haste before she hadn't even looked around, but it wouldn't have made much difference. Her father had always been a neat freak, and place was bare and sparkling, dulled only by the lack of use for the last month. She turned the sink back on, relieved that the dull brown water was out of the pipes and now it was running relatively clear, and splashed some of it onto her face. From being face down all night, she hadn't suffered too much from bed-hair, so her appearance, at last check, was acceptable.
Going back out into the kitchen/dining area, she picked up her bag. She wasn't going to stay here another second. And the Dukes were long since gone. She'd heard their car drive away, after a hesitation. She'd counted the seconds, fingers digging into her palms, worrying that they would be stupid enough to come back and try again, not sure if she wanted them to, or if she was afraid she might hurt one of them if they did.
One of them in particular. But she couldn't bring his face into her mind at that moment, not willingly.
She slung the bag over her shoulder, scooped up her helmet and went out the front. She let the door slam behind her, useless and unlocked. It didn't matter to her if someone wanted to break in and steal everything. It would save her the trouble of having to deal with it, which she knew was coming eventually.
Balladeer: That lady is stretched so thin, I wonder how long it'll take before she snaps.
Revving up her bike, she wondered where the hell she was going to go. Everywhere in Hazzard just seemed like a great red flag, getting the bull inside her excited. She was exhausted, she just wanted to go somewhere and rest her poor head, let all this ebb away from her for the moment…
The boarding house. Hogg's Hotel Heaven, She'd been in that place once or twice when she was younger, and it had been neat and clean, if overpriced. She wondered if it still was. She smirked. Sometimes it was nice when things didn't change.
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A woman stood at the counter of Hogg's Hotel Heaven, going about the business that hotel clerks went about. At the moment, she was slipping bills into the cubby holes at Boss' orders, as he had just raised the rate for the weekend by twenty dollars.
Balladeer: Now in case y'all don't recognize that girl, that'd be Shelly, one of Henri-Mae's old high school friends. She's been running the counter at Hogg's Hotel Heaven since she graduated, and she's very good at it.
Henna pulled the wooden door open. It amazed her, how everything in Hazzard was still made of wood. Most hotels had big glass doors so you could easily see the hallway, but not this one. Boss was probably too cheap to replace it, figuring that since he was the only real deal in town, people didn't have much choice.
The inside seemed to be the same. Warm, rich dark woods surrounded her, giving a womb-like feeling. The counter was immediately to the left of the front door, and a dark head was bent down, the sweep of a burgundy pony-tail on her shoulder. Immediately the head bobbed up at Henna's approach.
Green eyes lit up at the sight of her. "Henri-Mae?" she said before Henna could even open her mouth.
Henna was on the verge of correcting her, until recognition set in. "Shelly?" she shot back. "Shelly Winston?"
The woman started to laugh, coming around the nearly-invisible opening to the side and opening her arms to hug her friend. Henna took the embrace willingly, although she was surprised at herself for being so eager for it. It felt good to see a truly friendly face.
"My goodness, what are you doing back in Hazzard?" Shelly started, and then pulled back, her grip on Henna's shoulders softening in sympathy. "Oh, dear…that's right. I'm so, so sorry, Henri. When did you get in?"
"Last night," Henna replied, willing herself to stiffen again. She wasn't up for another breakdown, certainly not in public. "I was wondering if you have a room."
"For you, always," Shelly said with a smile. "My goodness, it's been at least seven years. It's so good to see you."
"You too," Henna replied, leaning against the counter, and although she meant the words, her tone was distracted. "So you work here?"
"I run here," Shelly said, pulling up some papers. "For the last four years. The three before that I was just another grunt, but once I finally got over that tom-boy thing, it really took off for me."
Henna made a noncommittal sound in the back of her throat. "Wow," she said flatly. "That tom-boy thing worked for you, though."
Shelly shrugged one shoulder. She did look good – she had a pale quality that most country girls didn't possess, from being in the sun all day. Being inside had done wonders for her complexion, giving her a delicacy that only brought out her pretty looks. "Well, being married changes a few things," she said, flashing her golden wedding ring.
Henna raised one eyebrow. "Married, huh?" she said, politely taking Shelly's hand to inspect it. "To whom, may I ask?"
"Lloyd Dunbar," Shelly said, practically beaming. "About six years now. We've got two kids, Molly and Bill. She's four, he's two." She was scrambling for her purse, which contained pictures. "I can't wait for you to meet him, Henri, he's just the sweetest guy."
Suddenly Henna was having a hard time swallowing. The two children were just as beautiful as their mother, only with sun-kissed cheeks and fairer hair. After giving them the dutiful inspection, she pushed them back at their mother. "So that takes care of you," she said with a forced smirk. "Ever hear from Lula Marie or Tonya?"
"Lula Marie still lives in town," Shelly said, putting the pictures away. "She bought the General Store some time back, and runs her own business from her home. She's still single," she added with a wink.
"Her own business?" Henna echoed. "Doing what?"
"Internet stuff," Shelly said with a shrug. "Never got it completely explained to me, but Lula Marie always was the smart one. Next to you, of course," she added with a wink.
Henna's smirk widened into a smile. "And Tonya?"
"Tonya," Shelly said thoughtfully. "She blows through town every now and again. She lives in Capitol City, though. Comes down here to drag me and Lula out of our 'boring country lives,' as she says, to go tear up the town."
"How often?"
"Every few months, give or take a few weeks." Shelly leaned over the counter. "I don't like spreading gossip, but I have to tell you, rumor is that she's working as a stripper in a club in Capitol City."
"That'd be Tonya," Henna replied wryly. Tonya had never been shy about her body, and had never had a reason to be. In fact, in terms of looks, Tonya had been Henna's only real competition, and it was just plain lucky that the two of them had been such good friends, or else they could have done each other some real damage. "But the other two of you decided to stay in Hazzard, huh?"
"Lula Marie got out long enough to go to college," Shelly said, on a roll now that she had fresh ears. "She came back, saying that Hazzard was a better place to live than just about anywhere she'd been." Shelly shrugged. "I already knew that, didn't need to go prancing around Europe to learn that."
"Europe?" Henna couldn't help the jealousy that crept into her voice. "She went to Europe?"
"Graduation gift from her parents," Shelly said with a sigh. "They scraped up years to do it, but they were just so proud of her cleaning up her act after high school and making something of herself—"
Henna bridled, visibly. Shelly saw it and instantly stopped. "Well," she said after a pause, "y'all have to admit, we were a bunch of hell raisers." She wrinkled her nose. "And Lula Marie's parents were always a pair of prudes."
That cracked a smile, as it was painfully true. Shelly patted Henna's arm. "Look, you go get some rest in your room, go relax. I'll give you a call at about lunch, and we can get something in the kitchen, on me. What do you think?"
Henna nodded, picking up her bag. "Sounds good, Shell, thanks."
Balladeer: See, just goes to show that everybody needs a friend.