FRIDAY
They say that knowledge is power. I say that knowledge is frustrating. Never in my life have I known so many secrets, and yet had so little fun with them. There was not a single person to whom I could unburden myself completely.
Neil knew about Janelle. Neil knew about Janelle's baby, Neil even knew that I had suspected Hugh Kincaid of being that baby's father. But he didn't know about Hugh's big secret. And he didn't know about Del and Ron. And, as things stood, I couldn't tell him either of those things.
Terse and gloweringly crabby, Del already regretted letting me in on her secret. She had no desire to share anything else. Not even the meaning of her cryptic question last night.
If Ron and Stu harbored secrets, we sure didn't know about them. Ron was spending more and more time at his own garage, and Stu had been "too busy" to stop in the cafe for ages.
Rhonda had no secrets, just surmises. And an inability to stay in class when she wanted to discuss them.
"There's more to this than we can see on the surface," she said earnestly, staring into her coffee cup. "My professor says that there are no accidents. That our subconscious directs our conscious selves. That the illusion of coincidence is just the way we humans have of rationalizing to suit our own purposes."
"Which particular coincidence are we rationalizing today, Madam Freud?" Del snapped. "The fact that the men in this town are all too chickenshit to face their own lives? Or the fact that every one of 'em is dumb as a box of rocks?"
"The genetic and cultural norms set the tone for intergender relationships in any given area," Rhonda said seriously.
"Well, our male genetic norm default switch is obviously set on 'asshole,'" Del said, furiously wiping already clean tables.
"Looks to me like the male default switch is set on 'absent,'" Rhonda said, dropping a slow wink at me. She was goading Del, not a wise decision when Del was in this kind mood. Rhonda surveyed the empty cafe. "This place looks like Chick Town. What'd you do, piss off all the guys?"
"No, that was just a coincidence," Del said, lighting a cigarette. "Besides, you're wrong. Here comes a walking penis now."
Since hell hath no fury like a Delphine scorned, I figured it was Ron. Or maybe Hugh, taking a free-period break in the cafe, as he sometimes did.
We were surprised to be joined by a morose and subdued Benny Nelson.
"Can I get you anything?" I asked, since Del pointedly ignored him.
"A cuppa coffee and some information," he said.
"I can manage one. But I can't guarantee the other," I said, wary. Though Janelle was still hiding at Neil's house, I was not at liberty to disclose that information. And if I had been at liberty, there were a dozen people I would tell before Benny.
"No shit," he said tiredly. "This is the most close-mouthed town I ever run across. Every one of you hicks knows more than you're telling. And hardly any of you will talk."
"Maybe it's your bedside manner, sweetie," Del said from behind the counter, smoking.
He slicked back his oily, thinning hair and fixed Del with an eagle eye. "You know, I usta think Janelle invented that smartass smug attitude all by herself. But I can see now that she got it here. It's in the genes."
"The female cultural default norm in these parts is 'bitch,'" Del said, saluting Rhonda.
The conversation was dangerously close to boiling into real anger. I jumped in. "What did you want to know, Mr. Nelson? Maybe I can help."
"First and foremost, I need to find Janelle. No one will tell me anything. Not even that teacher, the one she always said was her only real friend. He looked up at us and then continued, "I wouldn't be surprised if every one of you knew where she was right now..." He paused. We all shrugged innocently. At least Del and Rhonda did. "But I would greatly appreciate it if that someone would tell Her Majesty to contact me immediately. Some important shit is going to hit the fan, and it's going to hit real soon now."
"Oh yeah?" Del asked. "Like what?"
"Not as much fun when the shoe's on the other foot, is it?" Benny smirked. "Just make sure she understands that it's the old shit, not the new shit. She'll know what I mean."
He stood up and threw a twenty on the table, and then stopped and stared at Rhonda. Placing a finger under her chin, he tilted her head this way and that. Nodding, he dug in his pocket to give her a business card. "You're ever in California, kid, give me a call. You got potential."
He stalked out of the cafe.
"What'd I say? A walking penis, right?" Del asked the air.
"Oh, I don't know." Rhonda was excited. "It all made perfect sense."
"You don't really think that someone's subconscious directed everything that happened over the past couple of weeks, just so Benny Nelson could come into the cafe and discover you?" I asked.
"Don't be silly," she said. "I think everything that happened over the last twenty-some years directed Benny Nelson to come into the cafe this morning."
"So he could proposition you?" Del asked, disgusted. "Isn't that just a little self-centered?"
Rhonda shook her head. "No, no, no. You never listen. I've been saying all along that what happened in 1969 is connected to what happened last week. And now I know I'm right!"
"How so?"
"Tory knows what I mean, I can see it in her face."
Del looked to me for an explanation. I thought I knew what Rhonda was driving at. "He said that some 'old shit' was going to hit the fan, right?" I asked her. She nodded excitedly. "And what 'old shit' is there to haunt Janelle, except that river party?"
"You're basing your whole theory on two words," Del said sourly. "Not sound scientific principle."
I grinned. "Actually, I think the whole theory is based on gut instinct. But that doesn't mean it's wrong."
"Janelle was gone for a long time," Del said. "There could be tons of 'old shit' that doesn't have anything to do with Delphi."
"Yeah, but you don't really believe that, do you?" Rhonda asked me.
For any number of reasons, none I could explain at the moment, I thought she was right. I sighed.
"For my part," she said, tucking her hair behind an ear, "I absolutely believe that every single thing that happened back then has a parallel now."
Rhonda had no idea how close she was to being right. From hungover adolescents discovering drowning victims, to fights, to timeline discrepancies, to unexplained absences. Not to mention ill-planned infidelities with disastrous consequences.
"And it's not so much like history repeating itself," Rhonda continued, speaking my own reluctant thoughts aloud. "It's more like history cleaning up some unfinished business."