Chapter Eight: Secrets and Plans
...
A prolonged series of banging sounds awoke Nancy the next morning. She jolted upright before she was fully conscious.
"That wasn't thunder," she gasped.
"No," Joe agreed. He was already on his feet and heading for the doorway. In the grey and watery early-morning light Nancy could see the knife in his hand gleaming dully.
The noise sounded again. This time they both recognized it for what it was: a veritable Symphony for Knuckles and Locked Door, performed by someone either very pissed off or very frightened.
"Open up!" a voice yelled over the pounding. "It's raining!"
The release of tension in the room was almost palpable. Nancy let her arms, which had reflexively risen to cover her bare breasts, fall to her sides, and Joe laughed as he turned and replaced the knife in its usual spot beneath his pillow.
"I think Chet found my surprise."
The knocking picked up again.
"COME ON, JOE. I KNOW YOU'RE IN THERE!"
"Go let him in before Mrs. Graf calls in a noise complaint!" Nancy ordered.
"Or you could go. He'd be nicer to you."
"I'M GETTING SOAKED OUT HERE, YOU TURD. LET ME IN OR I'LL BREAK THE DOOR DOWN!" Chet bellowed.
"I'm naked, and you provoked him," Nancy pointed out. "Go!"
"Fine," Joe said, sighing exaggeratedly. He paused with his hand on the bedroom doorknob. "On one condition."
"Let me guess," Nancy said dryly. "You want me to still be naked when you get back?"
"JOSEPH FREAKING HARDY, LET ME IN!"
"Bingo."
"I'll think about it. Now go!"
Nancy playfully threw her pillow at him and he fled, wrapping the rumpled bedsheet around his hips kilt-fashion as he went.
...
The rain which had started last night was still falling, lashing against the roof and veining the bedroom window with thick rivulets of water. On the other side of the bedroom door the rumble of masculine voices rose and fell, Chet's outraged tones punctuated by Joe's attempts to soothe him, but it all seemed very far away in contrast to the bedroom's peaceful ambience. Nancy rolled over onto Joe's pillow, stretched, and sighed with contentment, luxuriating in the remaining sheet's delicious smoothness against her skin.
Maybe I will still be naked when he gets done talking to Chet, she thought dreamily, skimming one hand lightly up the contours of her own body- the long taut line of her thigh and the ridge of her pelvic bone, the concave arc of her waist and the convex swell of her breast; brushing lightly over her nipple, pressing along the line of her clavicle, and coming to rest with her palm flat against her sternum, fingertips stroking softly against the hollow at the base of her throat. She sighed again, and it was almost a moan.
I could just lie here, she thought. I could close my eyes and drift until he comes back.
The idea had a certain hedonistic allure. Unfortunately, Nancy already knew she would not be giving in to it. Her body might be whispering "stay awhile," but her brain was alert and clamoring like a roomful of journalists at a press conference. Regretfully, resignedly, Nancy sat up and reached for her phone.
One glance at the screen banished any remaining vestige of drowsiness. The floodgates had opened: the barrage of texts from Bess she had been anticipating had arrived during the night, along with one from George and one from Ned, of all people. Nancy read George's first- a terse promise to report in full in the morning- ignored Ned's, and opened Bess's.
1:38 AM
I know you're probably sleeping, cherie, but-
1:38 AM
We talked. He keeps telling me "the whole thing was a big mistake."
1:39 AM
Like
1:39 AM
What the actual FUCK?! Does he think I don't know that?!
1: 40 AM
Anyway...please tell me you found out something. Anything. He won't tell me her name and it's killing me.
1:45 AM
She's gorgeous, right? Super skinny? Tell me EVERYTHING.
1:55 AM
No, wait, don't
1: 57 AM
Damn it. Tell me.
2:17 AM
anyway wtf does he mean it was a mistake? A mistake is buying the wrong brand of paper towels or putting on mismatched socks, not whatever this was...god, Nance, I feel so stupid
2:18 AM
he offered to leave & get a hotel room for the night but I said no because if he leaves how do I know he's not meeting up with her?
2:20 AM
WAIT A MINUTE
2:20 AM
NANCY
2:20 AM
Should I let him go, so you can, like, shadow him? Is this a good strategy? Whyyyyyy are you sleeping?! TEXT ME BACK!
3:03 AM
I'm sorry babe. You should be sleeping. Talk tomorrow xoxoxo
With shaking fingers, Nancy typed out a reply. I'm so sorry, Bess. I promise I'm here for you and I'm working on this. We'll get you some answers.
She understood George's need for action, now. This was heart-wrenching.
The remaining text notification on her screen was bothering her. Nancy glared at it and then opened her browser instead in order to run a search for Tom's place of work. She scanned the employee directory page and jotted down the names of five women and three men whose names or possible nicknames began with N. Then she returned, with reluctance, to Ned's message.
Nancy. I'm so sorry for accosting you like that. I shouldn't have said what I said. Maybe we can get coffee sometime and I can explain? My treat, of course. Let me know.
Nancy stared at it for a long moment. Hit "delete message." Then, suddenly, she giggled.
"Ned Nickerson starts with N," she said out loud.
The idea was too ridiculous. Nevertheless, she added his name to the list before setting her notepad and phone aside. Mental action was no longer enough for her; the bed's comfort had turned cloying, and she needed to be up and doing. Nancy rose, showered quickly, and left the bedroom, eager to join in on the activities of the day.
As she had expected, she found Joe and Chet in the kitchen. Joe was sitting on the counter, drinking a cup of coffee, while Chet alternately stirred a pan of scrambled eggs and gesticulated wildly with the spatula to underscore the main points of whatever story he was telling. Nancy dodged the utensil's trajectory and made a beeline for the coffee pot.
"Good morning!" she said.
"Watch it, Nan. He's lethal with that thing," Joe said lazily.
"Sorry," Chet apologized sheepishly. "I didn't see you come in."
Nancy waved the apology away. "How's your shoulder?"
"Much better, but they want me to wear this dumb sling for two weeks. I don't think I'll need it for that long."
"Don't you get all macho about it," Nancy scolded. "I'm sure your doctor had a good reason for wanting you to wear it for that long."
"Yeah, but my doctor doesn't have a shop full of vehicles to get under," Chet grumbled.
"Not to mention Ms. Pink-and-lacy," Joe teased. "Or is it the other way around, with her?"
Chet, who had just handed Joe a plate of eggs, glared witheringly. "Ha ha," he deadpanned.
"Oh, come on, man. That was funny."
"You're seriously going to sit there naked and- "
"Not naked," Joe pointed out, patting his sheet-covered thigh.
"Naked," Chet repeated firmly. He shook his spatula for emphasis. "You're going to sit there, naked, and slut-shame me?"
Nancy tried to pass off her laughter as a coughing fit. Chet swung around and narrowed his eyes at her, as though trying to decide whether to glower at her as well.
"You know I'd never do that," Joe said. His face was the picture of injured innocence. "It's the complete opposite. I'm proud of you. Our little Chester finally turned in his v-card."
"Just because some of us didn't give it up in middle school," Chet sputtered.
"Hey, now who's slut-shaming?"
Chet rolled his eyes and turned back to his breakfast preparations. "Toast, anyone? Fair warning, it's a little scorched. Your toaster sucks."
Nancy slid into a seat at the table, cradling her mug of coffee. "Everything in this place is coming apart."
"Pal, we could put you down in a half-bombed field kitchen in the middle of a war zone and you'd still serve up the best damn scrambled eggs I've ever had," Joe said affectionately. He gulped down the last of his coffee, set aside his plate, and hopped lightly off the counter, nearly losing his makeshift kilt in the process.
"I'm gonna jump in the shower. Thanks for breakfast," he said, snagging a piece of toast and raising it in a salute to his friend on his way out of the kitchen.
"Thanks again for picking up the Queen," Chet called after him. He sighed and sat down across from Nancy. "Or should I thank you for that?"
"No, that was all Joe," Nancy admitted.
"Did you want some eggs? It's no trouble."
"No, thank you. Don't get up," Nancy said quickly. "I'm in the mood for some peanut butter toast."
Chet re-settled himself comfortably at the table. Nancy rose and dropped two slices of whole-grain bread into the toaster.
"The trick is to force it to pop up before it thinks it should," she said, to alleviate the awkward silence which threatened to descend. "There's something wrong with the timer."
Chet disregarded this. "I'm sorry," he said. "About waking you, I mean. Dad wanted to drop me off to get my car before work."
"I understand. Farmers' days start early," Nancy assured him.
"Yeah, but the door thing wasn't cool. I wasn't thinking. It's just..."
His voice trailed off. Nancy finagled her toast out of the toaster and spread peanut butter carefully on each slice, waiting. It was always best not to push Chet. He closed up under pressure.
"My dad saw it. The, um, underwear, I mean. On my steering wheel."
There is was. Nancy understood his irritation, now. The Mortons were some of the kindest people she knew, but they were also strict and old-fashioned. She could only imagine how Chet's father would have reacted to seeing that dainty, provocative garment on display in his son's car.
"Did you tell him it was just Joe's idea of a joke?" she asked.
"Yeah, but I'm not a hundred percent sure he bought it. He looked suspicious."
"I'm sure he's not," Nancy said soothingly. "That's just your guilty conscience talking."
Chet stabbed at the eggs on his plate. "Gee, Nancy, thanks for the pep talk," he said sarcastically.
Nancy laughed. "I'm sorry, Chet. I wouldn't be teasing if I thought you were really in trouble."
"You wouldn't be teasing if you had to go home and get interrogated about it," Chet said, refusing to be comforted. He sighed and reached for another slice of toast. "And look, I know I'm too old to care what my parents think, but I don't like to rock the boat. They've been through enough."
"I get it," Nancy said softly. She paused, then arched an eyebrow at him. "Tell me about this mystery woman, though. I assume things are going well?"
Chet actually blushed. He rubbed a hand across the back of his neck and then looked up, smiling despite himself. "Yeah. Things are really good."
She did not press him for further information. He finished his eggs in silence, washed the pan and his and Joe's plates despite her assurance that it was not necessary, and then lingered, looking uncomfortable.
"If Joe asks, tell him either Jay or I will probably be at the garage all afternoon, but if we're not, he knows where the spare key is," he said. "He wants to bring his bike by for a tune-up before you leave."
Nancy nodded. "I'll pass it along."
Still Chet hesitated.
"He didn't really lose his virginity in middle school," he blurted out suddenly.
"I know, Chet." He lost it in high school, to Vanessa- which was not an image Nancy particularly wanted to conjure up right now.
"Right. Yeah, no, of course you know that." He was blushing again. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, rubbed at the back of his neck again, and finally muttered "Okay. See you later."
He let himself out. A moment later Nancy heard the jalopy's engine sputter and cough before breaking into its familiar throaty rumble. She took a sip of coffee and smiled to herself at the thought of sweet, awkward Chet driving away with a pair of lacy panties stuffed into his jeans pocket.
"It's a funny old world, as Hannah would say," she said softly.
Without Chet and Joe, the room seemed very quiet. Nancy finished her toast in thoughtful silence and then rose to pour herself a second cup of coffee. It was really too warm for the beverage, despite the rain and the cooling effect of her still-damp hair, but she was already feeling the loss of sleep.
Not that last night wasn't worth it. But that, on top of everything... Foregoing sleep in favor of more interesting and mutually-satisfying activities was one thing. She could cope with that. But this recurring dream and the resulting almost-nightly interruption of sleep was wearing her down.
Nancy rolled her shoulders, easing the tension from the muscles. She was an intelligent girl. She knew why this childhood dream had resurfaced now, and could even pinpoint the date of its return: early June, the week before Frank and Callie's big wedding, right after-
Don't, she thought tiredly, getting up to rinse her mug. It'll pass. It always does. There's no point lingering with the ghost of an old grief.
Moving briskly, now, Nancy headed back toward the bedroom. The shower was still running, but the bathroom door was open, so she stepped over the discarded sheet lying on the threshold and entered the room.
"Hey, lady, this ain't a free show!" Joe called from behind the curtain.
"As if I could see anything through all this steam," Nancy retorted. "I'm actually not here to ogle you, anyway. I have a message from Chet."
Joe poked his head out, crowned with suds. "What's up?"
Nancy relayed their friend's message. Joe listened, nodded, and withdrew behind the curtain.
"Thanks. He felt bad about waking you, by the way."
"I know. He apologized." Nancy leaned back against the sink. "You didn't tell him about last night, did you? The part involving his car, I mean."
His head reappeared, sans shampoo this time. "Give me a little credit, Nan. I like riling Chet up as much as the next guy, but I'm not going to use our private business to do it."
This time his withdrawal was accompanied by a bump and a clatter- his elbow knocking her conditioner off the narrow shelf, she guessed- and a muttered profanity.
"Speaking of private business," Nancy said, after a moment, "did he tell you his girlfriend's name?"
"He did. It's Nova!"
Nancy's eyes widened. "Nova Bates?"
"The one and only." The water shut off and Joe stepped out, reaching for his towel. "Why so surprised?"
"Lots of reasons- but, Joe, Nova starts with N!" Nancy shook her head at her own statement. "That's ridiculous. Nova wouldn't do that to Bess. Right?"
"I don't know. Tom is pretty irresistible."
"Be serious. I'm going to have to add her to my list."
Joe hung up his towel. "How is Bess doing?" he asked.
"She's very upset."
"We'll figure this out," Joe promised, taking a step closer.
Nancy sighed. "I know. But I can't help feeling that handing her a name isn't really going to help. How can it? Her whole life just fell apart."
"I don't think this is really about giving her a name. She just wants to know her friends are on her side."
"You're right."
"Damn right I'm right. And we are going to make that bastard apologize- no, we're gonna make him grovel."
Nancy smiled. "George might actually kiss you if she hears you talk like that."
"Who could blame her? Did I say Tom was irresistible, earlier? Because clearly I misspoke. I'm the irresistible one around here."
Nancy wasn't really listening anymore. She reached out to touch a livid mark just above his left hipbone. The sheet had covered it, earlier. He followed her line of sight down and grinned.
"Tzeka's gonna give me a hard time for that," he said.
"Tzeka?"
"Fletcher Tzeka? My tattoo guy," he reminded her.
"Oh, right!"
She followed him into the bedroom and, for lack of anything better to do, began stripping the fitted sheet off the bed.
"Nan," Joe said.
She glanced up. "Yes?"
"I was thinking, before you came in...Do you want to come with me?"
"To your tattoo appointment?"
His head emerged from the neck of his t-shirt. "Yeah."
Nancy tossed the bundle of dirty linens into their laundry basket and took a clean set from the closet, pondering this. She had always been curious about the process.
"Let me help with that," Joe said, grabbing a pillow and a fresh pillowcase.
"Thanks. Watch out for the giant knife my boyfriend insists on sleeping with," Nancy teased.
Joe winked. "Don't worry. I know how to handle my giant knife."
Nancy rolled her eyes at him and turned away, ostensibly to unfold the new sheet but really to hide her smile. "Do you really want me to come?" she asked.
"Tzeka's been riding my ass about helping him test out this long-lasting temporary tattoo ink he's been working on," Joe said, smoothing out his side of the sheet. "It just hit me, earlier, that you'd be a perfect guinea pig for him. I don't know what kind of undercover identity you had in mind, but a few tattoos could help round out your image, and it'd get Tzeka off my back. It's a win-win. Only if you want to, obviously."
Nancy considered this for a moment as they unfurled the bedspread and tugged it into place. The idea was intriguing, and helpful, too, inasmuch as she had not yet pinned down her incognito persona beyond a vague idea of wearing trendy but unremarkable clothing, tinting her hair a few shades darker, and disappearing into the background. But this could work, too.
"Okay," she said, thoughtfully. "Yes. Why not?"
"Awesome!" Joe grinned at her across the bed. "Okay. Let me put some pants on, and we can go get inked!"
...
Author's Note:
My apologies if the ending to this one seems abrupt. I'm in the process of moving halfway across the world- which I'm super excited about, but also a tad overwhelmed. I figured I'd cut my drafted Chapter Eight in half in the interests of both giving you all the quicker update you deserve and giving myself a cathartic moment of completion amidst the chaos.
As always, so much gratitude to all of you who read and reviewed!