Someone for Everybody Pt. 01

"Then I'm terribly behind." He offered her an arm. Smiling, she decided the refreshment tables could survive a few minutes of inattention, and she allowed him to lead her onto the floor.

She was actually enjoying the twirling and spinning dance when....

"Would you mind if I cut in?" a terribly familiar baritone voice beside them cut through the music and the chatter.

"Why, I think that would be alright, sheriff," her father responded with suspicious promptness.

Lilian shot a glare at her father; an expression suitable for grotesque bugs and particularly loathsome traitors. He grinned guiltily and beat a hasty retreat off the dance floor. Turning to the sheriff, she hesitated a moment, and then nodded with stiff formality, avoiding his gentle, smiling eyes. She had been set up, and didn't want to make a scene, and at least it wasn't a slow dance.

With numerous wheezes and twangs, the band skidded off of the 40's swing dance and settled into a popular slow dance rhythm. Gina began to croon 'Breathe;' failing to sound like Faith Hill, but wringing every last ounce of emotion from the song she could. Lillian felt her face redden, and hesitated just long enough that the sheriff could wrap her hand with his, nearly encircle her back with his right arm, and pull her gently but firmly to him, their legs intertwining. To her soaring discomfort, she realized that they fit together perfectly; her head could rest right under his chin, their legs moved around each other without a bump; and her body, caring not a whit what her brain was struggling with, followed his as metal clings to a magnet.

Her last dance had been more than three years ago, when Sean had found out about... her operation... and had smiled like a wax dummy, his eyes giving lie to his mouth saying it didn't matter. And within a week his phone calls and notes and flowers had dried up and blown away, and she had heard through a friend of a friend that he had been seen in Morrisville 'accidently' bumping into Jennifer Ellis. And he must have told Sean and Colin, because they had not only stopped calling, but actively avoided her on the street, and, and,...and, the effort to support the hurt and the anger was just too great, and, and,... she felt a tear forming in the corner of her eye, and her body instinctively ducked her head against his chest to hide it. A deep breath of cologne, smooth and mellow as aged cognac, left her at the mercy of loneliness and attraction which fought in her painfully throbbing chest, and she was lost in the rush.

Her body buzzed with the heat that spread through it from the long, strong fingers wrapped around hers, from the firm chin nestled in her hair, from the muscular arm supporting her back. The heat filled her up, overflowed her; heat that started to pulse like a heartbeat, heat that pounded in her ears like storm surf on a rocky coast, heat that made her head dizzy and her legs weak. A hot, heavy, bright longing settled low in her belly and of its own accord her arm tried to pull him even closer.

The song trailed into graceful, poignant silence. Applause rose from the spectators, unheard by either of them.

"That was...," Cameron started to murmur.

Lillian was trembling against his chest. She knew if she looked into his eyes, she wouldn't turn into a pillar of salt, she'd turn into a pillar of Jell-O, and melt all over his arms, and he would kiss her, he would, right in front of the entire town. And she'd kiss him back, she wouldn't be able to help herself.

She couldn't stand another betrayal; she wouldn't put herself through that again. She managed to mumble a horribly garbled, "Thanks for the dance," and pushed herself away and half ran, half stumbled, unseeing, off the dance floor toward the restrooms, the closest haven to recover her composure.

"... an incredible dance," Cameron sighed.

Jodi and Sonya's glares followed her to the restroom door. On the stage, Gina rolled her eyes and huffed her frustration. Lillian's father contemplated his fate, wincing as the thought of spending the next few weeks in water which wouldn't be just hot but scalding hit him. The rest of the town attentively ignored the byplay sympathetically.

CHAPTER 4 -- Hometown gossip network

The next morning in the diner Lillian avoided the sheriff as if his eyes were death rays and his breath was laced with bubonic plague. She went so far as to order Adele to wait on him; and ignored her muttered grumblings, from being bossed by her boss.

And she still couldn't catch the sheriff changing out the flower, though she knew exactly when it happened, because she was talking to Doug, who proceeded to snort into his orange juice to the point she thought he was choking. When she turned around, the sheriff was gone, there was money beside the plate, and there was a new flower beside the register - a single red sweetheart rose. She couldn't bring herself to throw it out, though she actually tried. She settled for saying a quick prayer that life would get back to normal as soon as possible; and decided she would catch the sheriff in his flower delivery act one way or another.

One morning, six weeks after the sheriff's first visit, she spent the entire time standing behind the register, staring at the sheriff as he ate. She made short, pithy responses to all of his conversational sallies and didn't take her eyes off of him. Service was a lot slower that morning, since she wasn't helping Adele or responding to any of Judy's requests in the kitchen. This didn't appear to distress her customers too much; they sipped their coffee, tea or juice, as the case might be, and watched the two as if they were locked in mortal combat on a reality television show. The sheriff didn't betray, by the slightest flicker, any concern about being Lillian's sole focus, nor did he seem to be anxious or hurried at all.

He ate his breakfast, neither faster nor slower than usual, and asked her politely if she would care to see the newly opened movie at the town theater. She declined, stiffly but politely, as she had every invitation to every movie, play, and community event he had brought up every day for the past six weeks. Her eyes darted to the clock. Two minutes. The sheriff was just wiping his mouth. "Wonderful breakfast as always," he remarked casually, reaching for his wallet. Lillian felt a surge of triumph and allowed a slight smile to grace her lips. Either he wouldn't be able to change the flower, or he'd give in and change it in front of her; either way she figured she'd have won. Every seat in the diner was filled this morning, and everyone was pretending so hard that they weren't watching that the air seemed to throb.

A massive clatter thundered out of the kitchen behind her. Crying out, leaping upward, and twisting around, Lillian took the three steps to the kitchen door in a fraction of a heartbeat, certain that Judy was, if not dead, than seriously maimed. She hadn't heard that much noise since lightning had struck her house when she was seven. She flung open the door as far as it would go, only to find it partially blocked by one of the huge oven racks, with Judy standing behind it looking annoyed.

"Are you okay," Lillian gasped, her shrill breathlessness advertising that her heart had only just started beating again.

"Clumsy, but okay," Judy grumbled, hefting the heavy rack up off the floor. "Just thought I'd clean the blasted thing and next thing 'crash!' Probably all the cakes fell, too,"

Lillian started to take her relief out on Judy when some small part of her noted that the oven and deep sink were on the same side of the kitchen - the opposite side of the kitchen. She spun around. The sheriff's patrol car was pulling out of its usual spot, the exact cost of breakfast and the usual tip were set beside his nearly clean and neatly stacked place setting... and a tiny sprig of bluebells waved aloft from the tiny glass vase by the register, where a small sprig of honeysuckle had been just one loud noise ago.

She glared at the flower, glared at the customers - all of whom were eating or drinking intently, and turned and glared at Judy's back as she toted the rack over to the sink and started the water. As her mood soured, she could swear she saw Judy's shoulders shaking slightly, possibly from the effort of not laughing. Had the sheriff gotten the entire town in a conspiracy against her, she wondered? Feeling increasingly isolated and misunderstood, she determined to win this silly little contest between them, no matter what.

The next morning, Lillian skidded into the parking lot and unlocked and opened the diner at precisely 5:45. Her expression, however, was that of an ambassador about to deliver a declaration of war. The traitor, Judy, shuffled in behind her, yawning and heading straight for the kitchen. As soon as the kitchen door shut, she turned around, an almost manic smile on her face, and held the door for Doug.

"Good morning, Doug. Why don't you sit at the counter for a change, right here by the register?"

For a moment the quite elderly Doug Fenster looked like he usually did when suddenly realized he should have put new batteries in his hearing aid. Then, hunched over his walker, he shot an almost horrified look. "I can't sit there. That's the sheriff's seat."

Lillian's temper went from nothing to explosive in the blink of an eye, and she was just about to snap that it was NOT the sheriff's seat, it had no name on it, was not fenced off, and certainly did not belong to him, when she was brought up short by Doug's next remark as her shuffled to his usual booth. "Though he might not be in this morning, what with going to the hospital last night."