Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven

Allison

I took a deep breath when I pulled up to the town hall. The parking lot was already nearly full, suggesting these dances were still as popular as they had been when I was a kid. Based on the stragglers who’d arrived late, it appeared this was a tradition held by the older crowd. Jackson and I might be the youngest in attendance by a few decades.

After a quick pep talk, I forced myself out of the car and slipped through the door, grateful when nobody seemed to notice me. I went straight to the punch bowl to get a drink, just to have something to do with my hands. Jackson was right—town events were important. If I ever wanted to be accepted here, I needed to be part of the community. But I felt entirely out of place, and the long-forgotten but still familiar sounds and smells were bringing back memories I’d rather forget.

It was in this same building that I had first realized what the town thought of my father. I couldn’t have been older than six or seven at the time. Mama had always told me he was “sick.” In my sheltered way, I had thought I was being a good daughter and taking care of him when he asked me to pour him another glass of gin. “It’s his medicine,” Mama would say. “The only thing keeping him alive.”

I hadn’t realized until much later that those words had been laced with a sarcasm she only dared hint at in his presence.

But here, in this room, everything had changed. I had been so excited to go to the town dance in my new party dress. New dresses were a rare thing indeed, and technically speaking, this one wasn’t new at all—it was a hand-me-down from an older girl who lived in the nice part of town. But it was new to me, and I had never felt so beautiful as when I tried it on the first time.

First off, it was blue, not yellow like most of my hand-me-downs. Cerulean blue, a color that seemed so utterly perfect I couldn’t believe it. The full skirt draped the ground—the dress was probably two sizes too big—but it made me feel just like Cinderella when I twirled. Mama pinned the dress up so it appeared to fit me everywhere else, but I begged her to leave it long, like a ball gown. She agreed, with misty eyes that reminded me she, too, had once been a little girl who’d dreamed of being a princess.

Even then, it had struck my heart with pain to realize how unfair life could be. We all dreamed of being princesses. But she had grown up to take care of a sick man. She was always tired and sad, and she had started working late at night to help pay the bills.

“What’s wrong, baby?” she had asked as she watched my face fall.

“I just wish you had a princess dress, too, Mama,” I said.

Grief washed over her face, but she quickly replaced it with a reassuring smile. “My princess days are over. But nothing makes me happier than seeing you become one. No sadness, sweetheart. Tonight, you go to the ball. Just think of me as your fairy godmother.”

“Okay,” I said, giving her the smile I knew she wanted.

Mama curled my hair and pinned it up so it fell in ringlets around my face, and she even let me spritz myself with her fancy perfume that smelled like roses. She told me I would be the belle of the ball and to just watch—everyone would be smiling for the princess.

I was a bundle of nerves on the way into town, both because of how excited I was for the dance and because of how terrifying the drive was. Dad sipped his flask the entire time, apparently without a thought in his head about the danger he was putting his family in as he whipped around the mountain curves, unable to keep the car in its proper lane. I just reminded myself of what he always said—he was sick and trying his best.

When we finally arrived, I walked into the room, beaming from ear to ear, looking around eagerly to see everyone’s reactions. But instead of smiles, I heard the loud whispers about how the town drunk had somehow managed to make it in one piece and how pathetic it was that he couldn’t even buy his daughter a dress that actually fit her.

It was like everything in my brain suddenly shifted. I didn’t have all the pieces of the puzzle yet, but I knew suddenly that the picture of my life looked nothing like I’d thought. For the first time in my life, I felt shame. And I no longer wanted anyone to notice me.

I didn’t dance that night. I slipped away from my family, choosing to watch the dancing from a distance. From a hidden corner, I watched the more respectable families lead the festivities, and I realized there were divisions in Rosemary Mountain I had been blind to. I found myself wishing I came from a different family. Then I felt ashamed I would wish for such a thing.

Nobody looked for me. Nobody except Jackson, that was. Jackson had come with his mother. Knowing full well how the town saw them, thanks to Russell, they had slipped in quietly. His sharp eyes somehow spotted me in my hiding spot, and he made a beeline for where I was.

We hid under a table and watched the dancers, making up silly stories about ridiculous things happening in their homes too. It eased some of the new heartache I was feeling to pretend that old Mrs. Miller had been late because Mr. Miller had gotten angry and hidden her high heels. Or that the mayor couldn’t eat any cake because his wife had scolded him for growing a belly so big that, when he got dressed for the evening, his button had popped off and hit her in the eye.

We made things up about other people to take the sting out of them talking about our families. And it worked.

We also stuffed ourselves with as much cake as we could stomach, knowing we didn’t get such things often at home. And that night, we went from being neighbors to best friends, a friendship that would get me through the rest of my years in Rosemary Mountain—until the day mama finally got her head on straight, left my father, and started a better life for us both.

Why on earth had I returned here to relive the chapter of our lives we both preferred to pretend had never happened?

I shook off thoughts of the past when I spied Jackson standing at the front of the room, looking incredibly handsome in his uniform. Relief flooded my body at the sight of him. He was waiting patiently while someone—probably the new mayor—welcomed everyone to the dance and explained the rules of the raffle.

Jackson’s eyes met mine from across the room and his mouth turned up in a little smile. I took a deep breath, suddenly knowing everything would be okay. I wasn’t a young girl in a ridiculously oversized dress who needed to hide anymore. I was an adult with a medical degree. More importantly, I had a friend in this room, a friendly face who was truly happy to see me. The same friend who had gotten me through these dances before.

Jackson made a beeline for me when the mayor was finished with him. Our eyes stayed connected as he walked across the room, slipping through the crowd to join me on the outskirts.

“You look nervous,” he murmured, pouring himself a cup of punch.

“I am,” I admitted. It was hard to ignore all the curious glances. Everyone knew everyone else in this town, and despite having been born here, I was now considered an outsider. I’d expected some of the town busybodies to accost me, wanting to find out what, exactly, my connection was to Rosemary Mountain as well as all the personal details they could wrangle out of me. But strangely, none of them had. Either the town was changing and people were keeping to themselves more or everyone already knew who I was and had decided to shun me.

Based on the looks and whispers, I was pretty certain it was the latter.

“Come on,” Jackson said, placing a hand under my elbow and drawing me out from the back of the room. “I’ll introduce you to people. You can’t just hide out back here. It’s like you’re flashing a neon sign that you want everyone to leave you alone. And they’re doing it.”

“Maybe you’re right,” I admitted. I hadn’t considered how it looked that I had come in and stayed in the back, not speaking to anyone else. Jackson was obviously a pro at navigating the social aspect here. I needed to take a lesson from him.

“I know I’m right,” he said, looking down at me with a warm smile. His confidence helped me relax, knowing he had my back. “It’s time for you to own the fact that you’re home and should be treated as a respected member of town.”

I swallowed hard. “I don’t know, Jackson. I’m still a Bell. Based on how everything’s gone so far, it's hard to imagine anyone just immediately accepting me like that.”

“Don’t worry,” he said, flashing his grin at me. “You’re with me. Gives you street cred.”

I just raised an eyebrow and fell into step beside him as he took me to meet the mayor.

An hour later, I squeezed Jackson’s hand and mouthed thank you to him. He had made the rounds, introducing me to nearly everyone in the room as Dr. Allison Bell, and people had responded more warmly than I had expected. A few people even asked about my mother and said they hoped she was doing well. Nobody mentioned my father, a fact that made me incredibly grateful. By the time Jackson was finished making introductions, I was actually starting to enjoy myself.

But the highlight of the night was getting to meet Dr. Johnson again and thanking him for giving me a chance. He was older now—mid-sixties probably—but somehow just as handsome as ever. He knew me before Jackson even had a chance to introduce us, and he beamed as he shook my hand.

“Allison Bell. Of course. I’d know you anywhere. You’re the spitting image of your mother.” His eyes seemed to linger on me with a trace of feeling.

“Thank you,” I said, pleased with the compliment. And pleased again to be associated with my mother rather than my father.

“How’s the clinic treating you?” he asked. He cocked his head and gave me a look of interest, letting me know he wasn’t asking simply to be polite.

I moved my head back and forth in a noncommitted way. “It’s going alright,” I said carefully.

He raised his eyebrows and leaned forward conspiratorially. “You can be honest with me, Allison. I know that clinic has a reputation for being difficult.”

“Really?”

He nodded. “But I believe in you. You can turn it around. And if I can be of any assistance to you, don’t hesitate to ask.”

“Thank you,” I said, beyond grateful to have another ally in the medical community. If I was going to change things, I’d need all the help I could get.

I started to tell him about my idea for a drug treatment program, but mid-conversation, an elegantly dressed woman pulled him away for a dance.

At almost the same time, a gray-haired lady leaning heavily on her walking cane approached Jackson. “Young man, you owe me a dance,” she said, wagging her finger at him.

“I did promise, didn’t I?” he replied, smiling as he held his arm out for her. “Be right back,” he told me.

“I’ll be here,” I said. “And I get the next dance.”

His eyebrows shot up. “Absolutely.”

I stayed on the side, watching him slowly waltz the fragile lady around the room. She couldn’t have been more than four feet tall, and he had to stoop over to dance with her. But she was grinning from ear to ear, and the sight made me smile. Jackson wasn’t just good at managing the community. He genuinely cared about them, and it was sweet to see.

“I wouldn’t get your heart set on that one,” said a voice beside me.

I looked and was surprised to see the woman who had just pulled Dr. Johnson away for a dance—a dance that apparently hadn’t lasted long. I automatically glanced at her hands and noticed an over-the-top diamond wedding ring on her finger.

“Oh, Jackson?” I asked. “We’re just friends.”

“Good,” she said, nodding. “Because Jackson’s a good man, and he could do a hell of a lot better than a Bell.” She turned on her heel and walked away.

My face flushed hot and pain squeezed my heart. Her cruel comment was humiliating—a reminder of who I was and always would be in the eyes of everyone here.

When Jackson returned, he frowned at me. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” I said shakily. I smoothed down the front of my dress, trying to get myself under control. “Who is that?” I asked, pointing at the woman who now had her back toward us.

He glanced over. “Red dress?”

“Yeah.”

“Penny Johnson. Dr. Johnson’s wife. Why?” he asked, giving me a strange look. “Did she say something to you?”

“It doesn’t matter,” I said, glancing back toward the direction she had walked.

She was staring at me, her lips set in a thin line.

“It matters to me,” he said, following my line of sight with a puzzled look on his face.

“Forget it.” I gave him a reassuring smile. “I want that dance now.”