Chicory Up by Irene Radford

Author:Irene Radford [Radford, Irene]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781101641873
Publisher: Penguin Group
Published: 2012-05-01T06:00:00+00:00

“Thank you for seeing us on such short notice, Judge Pepperidge,” Dick said upon entering the richly appointed office.

“No problem, Dick.” John Pepperidge waved Dick and Thistle to the straight-backed chairs in front of the desk. At forty-three he was the youngest judge in the county. He had a reputation for intelligence and fairness.

His father, George, was the only candidate for mayor of Skene Falls in November. Phelma Jo had withdrawn from the race after the scandal of the fire and logging off of The Ten Acre Wood.

“I haven’t seen much of you since you and Chase dominated the high school football team,” Judge Pepperidge said.

“Those were the glory days.” Dick smiled, not willing to discuss his checkered academic career with this overachiever who succeeded at everything he tried.

“But you landed in a good career, in spite of yourself,” John Pepperidge laughed good-heartedly. “So introduce me.” He half stood and proffered his hand toward Thistle.

Dick made the introductions. Thistle blushed prettily and didn’t say much. She still looked a little pale after that episode writing out her story. Her gaze remained firmly away from both Dick and the judge. That worried Dick. Lying was such a big part of modern life, he didn’t know if he could follow her example. Or live up to her expectations.

For Thistle, he’d try. As soon as they got through this one huge lie about her past.

Necessary, he reminded himself.

“Now tell me what brings you here?” Judge Pepperidge asked. His eyes returned to Thistle again and again, squinting and puzzling as if he should know her but couldn’t remember from where.

Dick almost laughed. Given Thistle’s wide variety of friends from her Pixie days, spanning several generations, she had probably been influential in Johnny Pepperidge’s life, giving a serious and studious boy the gift of laughter and not taking himself too seriously.

Dick’s mirth flipped to jealousy. Had Thistle kissed the judge in his youth as she’d kissed Dick?

She patted Dick’s hand reassuringly, as if she followed his thoughts.

“Thistle has no records or ID,” Dick said boldly.

“I’m not an illegal alien,” Thistle interrupted. “I’ve lived near here all my life.”

The judge raised his eyebrows in question but said nothing. One of his tactics to encourage reluctant witnesses to keep talking just to fill the silence.

“Thistle’s parents raised her in a religious commune. They did not believe in education for women or in electricity or plumbing or anything else modern,” Dick said.

“Where were you born?” the judge asked, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his massive mahogany desk. His eyes sparked with interest.

“I… I don’t know for sure.” That was the truth. Thistle blushed and lowered her gaze. But she flicked Dick a glance to make sure she’d used the right words.

“Her mother would have been at home with a midwife or a friend, not a doctor or a hospital.”

“Birth certificate?” the judge asked.

Thistle shrugged. “I wouldn’t know where to look.”

“If her parents recorded anything, it would have been in a family Bible,” Dick filled in the blanks.

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