A New Attitude. Charlotte Hughes

eased her to the floor. “Can you stand?”

      “Why, I certainly can.” She pulled free of him and drew herself up primly, dusting off her clothes and taking care not to put all her weight on her sore ankle. “My, I must look a mess. You’ll have to excuse my appearance.”

      Sam looked on in disbelief as she hobbled about, holding her head as though afraid it would fall off and trying to walk out the soreness in her foot. The still-attached noose dragged a piece of the ceiling beam after her. “It would probably be easier for you to get around if you removed that noose from your neck,” he said, sarcasm creeping into his voice. His initial fear had waned, now that he knew she wasn’t going to be carried out in a body bag, and he suddenly felt like shaking her.

      Marilee regarded him as she fumbled with the tassels. “There is no cause for rudeness. I’m obviously ill-prepared to receive guests at this time, so perhaps we can meet again under more favorable circumstances.” Yes, that’s what she’d do. She’d whip up her special chicken salad and cucumber sandwiches and invite him to a little housewarming gala once she managed to get the place in shape. But she could not worry about that right now. She had more important business to take care of.

      Sam gazed back in pure astonishment as realization hit him. “Marilee Brown,” he said, wondering why he hadn’t recognized her the minute he’d laid eyes on her. She was still as pretty as she’d been in high school. Her hair, the color of ripened wheat, was shorter, barely touching her shoulders and turning under slightly at the ends. Her eyes were the same sparkling blue, and she hadn’t lost the figure that had looked so good in a cheerleader’s skirt and the gown she’d worn when she’d been crowned homecoming queen.

      “And I’d appreciate it if you’d stop looking at me as though I’m crazy,” she went on. “I’m perfectly sane, and I wouldn’t be in such a predicament had I not been pushed to the brink. The absolute brink,” she added, waving her arms dramatically as she almost shouted the words. She paused abruptly. He knew her maiden name. “Have we met?”

      He wasn’t surprised that she didn’t remember him. “I grew up next door. We went to the same high school.” His mouth took on an unpleasant twist. “We didn’t exactly run with the same crowd.”

      “You’re Nell Brewer’s son,” Marilee said at last. “Sam.”

      “So you remember.” He wondered just how much she remembered.

      Marilee had a sudden image of a good-looking adolescent with dark hair and what mothers had called bedroom eyes in those days. Those brown eyes, heavily lidded with thick, dark lashes, gave him a lazy, come-hither look that had lured more than one high-school girl into the back seat of his car. “Stay away from that boy,” her own mother had warned. “You so much as walk on the same side of the street with him, and you can kiss your reputation goodbye. And you can’t blame his parents. They’re decent, God-fearing Christians.”

      His father had died in Sam’s senior year, and the teenager had quit school in order to support his mother. Marilee vaguely remembered he’d worked construction. Somehow, though, he’d still managed to get into one scrape after another. Then, like a bad wind, he was suddenly gone. The town of Chickpea assumed he’d been sent to prison.

      “Yes, I remember,” Marilee replied, thankful she had packed her mother’s silver and put it in a safe place long ago. “It’s, uh, nice seeing you again, Sam. As you must have surmised by now, my life has taken a turn for the worse since I last saw you. Nothing I can’t handle, of course, but thanks for stopping by just the same.”

      He was being dismissed. Was she crazy? She had just attempted to hang herself, and now she acted as though it was an everyday occurrence and he was in the way. Sam raked his fingers through his hair, wondering what he should say or do. The situation felt unreal, as though he’d just landed in a scene in one of his mother’s favorite soaps.

      “Look, Marilee, I don’t know what your problem is, but I think you need to talk to someone. Nothing is worth ending your life over.”

      “I realize that now,” she said with disdain, still trying to free herself from the noose.

      “Here, let me help you with that,” Sam offered. He struggled with the tassels. She obviously knew her way around knots. Finally, he pulled it free and tossed the makeshift rope aside. He leaned closer and sniffed. “Do I smell gasoline?” he asked. “Please don’t tell me you were planning to set yourself on fire.”

      “Do I look deranged?”

      He arched one dark eyebrow but decided not to answer. The noose had chafed the tender skin at her neck. She brushed plaster dust from her face, and he couldn’t help noticing her complexion was still youthful and unblemished, as if she belonged in one of those skin-care commercials. It unnerved him to think just how close she’d come to dying.

      Marilee noticed he was staring. “What’s wrong?”

      “There’s a red welt on your neck.”

      “Trust me, it’s not the worst thing that’s happened to me in the past few days. I’ll deal with it, okay? Just…please go.” She was near tears, and the last person she wanted to see her cry was Sam Brewer, who didn’t seem to like her very much in the first place.

      “You’re lucky to be alive, you know. If that beam hadn’t collapsed, you’d be dangling like a puppet right now with your eyes bulging out of their sockets.”

      “What?” Marilee drewback. The mere thought horrified her.

      “You obviously don’t know what a hanging victim looks like.”

      “Well, no.”

      “They mess their pants, and their tongue hangs out and turns purple.” Sam wondered what had made him go and say something like that, but he was annoyed with her. Pissed off, actually, now that the initial shock of finding her had worn off. “What the hell were you thinking?”

      Marilee shuddered at the mental picture he’d drawn for her, and she was doubly glad to be alive. “I wasn’t really going to go through with it.”

      “Sure you weren’t.”

      She glared at him. Did he think she did this sort of thing on a regular basis? Could he not see that she was coming apart at the seams? He had no right to pass judgment on her. “Look, you’ve done your good deed for the day, so why don’t you run along now. I can pay you for your trouble if you like.”

      She had a mouth on her, and that surprised him. She’d always seemed so prim and proper, always doing and saying the right thing. “What do you suppose your life is worth, Miss Brown?”

      “At this moment? About ten cents. And my name is not Miss Brown. It’s Mrs. Abernathy.”

      “Ah, yes, you married that Grady fellow. He was into sports, right?”

      She gave a rueful smile. “He is still something of a sportsman.”

      “A football player, if I remember correctly.” He remembered well. The Golden Boy, they’d called him. Folks in Chickpea could speak of nothing else his senior year. “Wasn’t he offered a full scholarship to Duke University?”

      “Yes, but he went into the seminary instead.”

      “I see.”

      “He’s quite popular with some members of his flock,” Marilee said, offering him a tight-lipped smile. “You might say he takes a hands-on approach to those who are most troubled.” Sam nodded as she spoke, as though trying to make sense of the situation. But how could he possibly understand? “Uh, look, Sam, I’d really appreciate it if you’d keep this little matter between us. You know how it is, small town and all.”

      “I wouldn’t think of embarrassing you. But how do I know you won’t stick your face in the oven the minute I walk out the door?”

      “I’m a grown woman, and I can take care of myself,” she replied stiffly. She paused to get a grip on her emotions.