Page 9 of July Skies
If people had issues with their lesbian neighbors, it had nothing to do with their sexuality and everything to do with loud hangouts, unruly children, and cars parked a little too close to each other. There was one older woman who thought the churches pandered to “the gays around here,” but when Dahlia pressed further, the woman cocked an eyebrow and said, “I mean, it’s simply disingenuous. The only reason they do it is because they wouldn’t have congregations, otherwise. We all know what the churches are doing. It’s about butts in pews, not saving souls.”
Dahlia continued to loop that video on her computer, wondering how to angle it into a video. Wayne glanced over her shoulder and shook his head.
“If you’re looking for a dark side to this town, forget it. The Fourth of July stuff was tame in comparison to some towns full of anarchists.” Ah, yes. Wayne had quipped that Dahlia might find political dissidents all over town, but so far, all they found were the usual grumblings about presidential candidates that were heard throughout the country. The reservation in Washington had been more vocal about it. “If you’re worried about a boring documentary, don’t be. There’s still lots of cute stories to be had here. Show them crying about how happy they are. Damn, find the right people to give you the dirt about their pasts, and you’ve got an Oscar.”
People weren’t willing to do that, either. Dahlia knew that part of it was building a rapport with the community, but by the end of that Fourth of July weekend, they had hit a wall. Seemed the townsfolk had spread enough about the camera crew to make others wary. The mayor had shut Dahlia out after they last parted at a Sunday morning brunch for the Chamber of Commerce. Dahlia had hoped to meet a few leads there, but everyone politely kept their opinions to themselves in front of the camera. She had, however, written down a few follow-up names.
The mayor…
Did Karen have something to do with this? How many people did she actually have under her thumb in this tiny town? Because Dahlia had never seen anything like it. A place that liked their mayorthismuch was like townsfolk who liked the whole damn town this much! It didn’t happen. Dahlia didn’t care if people had it better here than wherever they came from before.Nobody likes where they live to this extent.
There was certainlysomethingabout Karen. Something Dahlia couldn’t quite put her finger on, because she had never encountered this kind of roadblock before. The mayor wasn’t simply charismatic and intelligent. She genuinely cared for this little redneck town. Dahlia could see as much whenever Karen intervened on someone feeling uncomfortable by the interviews, whether Dahlia agreed or not.Does she think I haven’t been interviewing people for years? I know when they’ve had enough!
Dahlia already had enough of the mayor. When Karen wasn’t hanging over everyone’s shoulders, she was sitting in the corner, smoldering in both her convictions and her confidence. This was a woman who often went unchallenged in local elections. Her approval rating was in the eighties. Her daughter was a high school softball star, and her son attending one of the top private universities in the state. People loved her for existing! Granted, Dahlia had always come up against leaders who hovered like the documentarian was about to showcase everyone in the “wrong” light, but Karen was an enigma. She wasn’t a tribal leader trying to keep her people afloat. She wasn’t the head of a family with much to lose. Nor was she the CEO of a mid-sized company on the brink of bankruptcy. Those people usually operated under atleasta mild sense of panic. Emotions were high and the stakes raised with every passing second. That’s what Dahlia was used to in the world of documentaries.
What did Karen have to panic about? She was solidified in her position as leader of Paradise Valley. There were no outside threats to her town. Her people were generally taken care of or, at least, the local government and sheriff’s office had no qualms with them. Gay rights floundered in some parts of the country, but Oregon enjoyed a level of acceptance that had been unheard of ten or more years before. People weren’t about to be run out of their homes. Money was all right. So whatwasher deal?
Why did Dahlia keep thinking about her, although most of her time with the mayor had come to an end with this project?
She wasn’t particularly stunning to look at. A run-of-the-mill woman approaching middle age, with light brown hair she always wore back or up in a bun. Her pantsuits were department-store quality, but hardly bespoke. Some of them made it obvious that her weight fluctuated as much as any other woman’s. She was soft-spoken in that fake politician way, but when she was angry or trying to be heard, her voice carried half the length of Main Street. Yet Dahlia couldn’t stop thinking about the cold stare of those icy blue eyes or the confident way Karen shrugged whenever correcting her posture. She was a force to be reckoned with, wasn’t she?
Dahlia always admired women like that.I like to think I’m like that, too.Whether she was or wasn’t didn’t matter. Karen Rath understood confidence as well as Dahlia did. The more confident a woman was, the more likely she was to convince everyone else around her that she was someone worth listening to.
Infuriating, wasn’t it?
Dahlia sat in the waning light of Waterlily House, where she wadded up another piece of paper and tossed it into a paper bag full of trash. Wayne heaved a heavy sigh and got up to use the bathroom. The other guys tossed a football in the backyard, near the flowers that bore Dahlia’s name.Freakin’ dahlias.Her mother’s favorite flower, of course. She never saw anything special in them. Luckily for her, the guys on her crew didn’t know a rose from a tulip, so they never thought to make fun of her name when in a garden full of dahlias.
“Are y’all doing okay?” That came from the young girl standing in the kitchen doorway. The teenager who helped out around Waterlily House didn’t look a day over seventeen, although she assured the crew she was turning eighteen in August andperfectlycapable doing most of the chores and forwarding issues to the owner off on her honeymoon. Dahlia wished she was surprised that someone as young as Leigh Ann wandered around every other day. She took turns with her own English teacher, the woman named Anita Tichenor who often showed up around lunch, when the crew was out doing their work.
Leigh Ann seemed like a sweet girl who knew her way around Waterlily House, but she didn’t exactly inspire confidence in Dahlia, who was used to seeing child labor in the worst of America.I did a whole documentary about unpaid farmhands in Texas.Not that Leigh Ann exhibited any of the signs of a modern-day slave who had no other choice for her family. Yet Dahlia couldn’t say she often stopped thinking about it.
“Everything’s fine, thank you.” Dahlia returned to her empty script before realizing a piece of her puzzle might exist within the twig-like girl standing before her. Leigh Ann rolled up the sleeves of her flannel and pulled down the curly hem of her denim shorts as she turned around. “Wait,” Dahlia said. “Would you mind if I asked you a few questions about this town?”
Leigh Ann glanced over her shoulder, her hazel eyes sparkling with curiosity. Naturally, young women loved to be asked questions. Especially in small towns, where one was not often to attract outsider attention. “Sure, I guess.” Leigh Ann completely turned, although she didn’t come any closer to the farm table. “Although my mom’s expecting me home in half an hour.”
“How long does it take you to bike home from here?”
Leigh Ann shrugged. “About fifteen minutes.”
“So you have fifteen minutes to spare.”
“I guess.” The girl shuffled forward. She grabbed the chair nearest her and sat down, eyes never leaving the blank piece of paper in front of Dahlia. “Are you gonna record me? Because I’m still a minor until this time next month.”
“Does that make you the oldest girl in your class? The cutoff is end of July, right?”
“Yeah. Whatever, though. I ain’t in no hurry to go off to college.”
Interesting. Most small town girls couldn’t wait to get the hell out of Dodge. “Please feel free to tell me if you don’t want to answer anything. Also, none of this is on the record. It won’t go into the documentary. Not without your mother’s permission.” Dahlia cleared her throat. “I’m curious about something, and your answers may help give me direction on where to go.”
Slowly, Leigh Ann nodded.
“Do you mind if I ask you what your sexuality is, Leigh Ann?”
The girl’s cheek pinkened.It’s always best to come out and ask what you’re thinking.Some interviewees were worth buttering up, but Dahlia didn’t want to waste any time tonight.
“I don’t really think about it,” Leigh Ann meekly said. “Straight, I guess. I’ve dated a couple of boys. There aren’t many people worth dating in a small school.”
“Interesting.”
