Magic Hour

“That was a long time ago, Cal. I can’t believe you remember it.”

“I remember.” There was an edge to his voice that was odd. He walked over to the hooks by the door and grabbed his coat.

“It’s karaoke night,” Peanut said, smiling.

Ellie was lost and Peanut damn well knew it. “I guess a margarita couldn’t hurt.” It was better than going home. The thought of telling Julia about the DNA was more than she could bear.

ON EITHER SIDE OF RIVER ROAD, GIANT DOUGLAS FIR TREES WERE AN endless black saw blade of sharp tips and serrated edges. Overhead, the sky was cut into bite-sized pieces by treetops and mountain peaks. There were stars everywhere, some bright and so close you felt certain their light would reach down to the soggy earth, but when Ellie looked at her feet, there was only dark gravel beneath her.

She giggled. For a second she’d almost expected to look down and see a black mist there.

“Slow down,” Cal said, coming around the car. He took hold of Ellie’s arm, steadying her.

She couldn’t seem to stop looking at the sky. Her head felt heavy; so, too, her eyelids. “You see the Big Dipper?” It was directly to the left and above her house. “My dad used to say that God used it to pour magic down our chimney.” Her voice cracked on that. The memory surprised her. She hadn’t had time to raise her shield. “This is why I don’t drink.”

Cal put an arm around her. “I thought you didn’t drink because of the senior prom. Remember when you puked on Principal Haley?”

“I need new friends,” Ellie muttered. She let herself be guided into the house, where the dogs rammed into her so hard she almost fell again.

“Jake! Elwood!” She bent down and h

ugged them, letting them lick her cheek until it was so wet it felt like she’d been swimming.

“You need to train those dogs,” Cal said, stepping away from their sniffing noses.

“Training anything with a penis is impossible.” She grinned at him. “And you thought I didn’t learn anything from my marriages.” She pointed to the stairs. “Upstairs, boys. I’ll be right up.”

She only had to say it another fifteen times before they obeyed. Once the dogs were gone, Cal said, “You better get to bed.”

“I’m sick of sleeping alone. Pretend I didn’t say that.” She started to pull away from Cal, then stopped dead. “Did you hear that? Someone’s playing the piano. ‘Delta Dawn.’” She started singing. “‘Delta Dawn, what’s that flower you have on?’” She danced across the room.

“No one is playing music,” Cal said. He glanced over at the corner, where her mom’s old piano sat, gathering dust. “That’s the song you sang tonight for karaoke. One of them, anyway.”

Ellie came to an unsteady stop and looked at Cal. “I’m the chief of police.”

“Yes.”

“I got drunk on margaritas and sang karaoke . . . in public. In my uniform.”

Cal was trying not to smile. “Look at the bright side, you didn’t strip and you didn’t drive home.”

She covered her eyes with her hand. “That’s my bright side? I didn’t get naked or commit a crime.”

“Well . . . there was that time—”

“I am definitely making new friends. You can go home. I won’t be seeing you anymore.” She turned away from him too quickly, lost her balance, and went down like a tree at harvest time. The only thing missing was a cry of “Timber!”

“Wow. You really hit hard.”

She rolled over and lay there. “Are you going to just stand there or are you going to hook me up to some sort of pulley system and get me up?”

Cal was openly smiling now. “I’m going to stand here. Us not being friends anymore, and all.”

“Oh, damn it. We’re back on.” She reached up. He took her hand and helped her to her feet. “That hurt,” she said, brushing dust off her pants.

“It looked like it did.”

Cal was still holding her hand. She turned to him. “It’s okay, big brother. I’m not going to fall again.”