White Hot Bowlen

By Shari Watling

After Honey graduated high school, she thought life was good. Then her father died, and her brother disappeared. When she started asking questions and tried to find out why, she was dismissed as a young nuisance. Her mother had crawled into her shell, leaving Honey on her own. When no one in authority would help her, she turned to her two best friends. Together, they started unraveling the dangerous mysteries of her beloved hometown of Bowlen. Why did her father die, and where was her brother?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Page Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Aug 21, 2023
• ISBN: 9798887935027

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White Hot Bowlen

Shari Watling

Copyright © 2023 Shari Watling

All rights reserved

First Edition

PAGE PUBLISHING

Conneaut Lake, PA

First originally published by Page Publishing 2023

ISBN 979-8-88793-500-3 (pbk)

ISBN 979-8-88793-502-7 (digital)

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Epilogue

About the Author

Chapter 1

Darn! Honey exclaimed as she pulled her old battered Schwin bicycle into her driveway. At least you waited until I got home this time, she said to the impotent drive chain, which had slipped off the wheel cog.

Honey had recently turned eighteen and graduated from high school. Although she could drive a car, she didn't own one. Mournfully, she looked at her father's old white '68 Ford truck sitting unused beside the driveway on the gravel walkway leading around the right side of the house to the spacious backyard. Somehow, she couldn't picture herself behind that wheel. Not yet.

Honey had the dark-blond hair of her mother. She was 5'3" with the honey-tinted green eyes of her birth. She cursed her big-boned ancestors, blaming them for her lifelong struggle with weight. Life and people were constantly amazing and amusing her. She was naturally curious and always wanted to know the latest gossip and secrets of anyone. But this summer, with her father's death and her brother's disappearance, she had felt heavy and slow moving, as though she were a living character in one of those old tragic black-and-white films her mother and father had loved to watch in the early hours of the morning when she and Billy were supposedly asleep. The first few weeks after the twin life-changing occurrences, she had felt as though she were drowning in slow motion into a thick, dark, silent pool. Just lately, however, her youthful resilience had begun to emerge. Her world was starting to brighten gradually by shades. Hope for the future and acceptance of the past were beginning to be felt.

Her gaze continued to take in the outside impressions of her home. It was a neat little one-story three-bedroom white clapboard tract house indistinguishable in design from many of its neighbors. The once-green lawn was beginning to turn brown from lack of watering, and the carefully planted rose bed running the full length of the house was overgrown. The huge dogwood tree centered in the front lawn needed trimming. The wide-peaked front porch needed sweeping. Generally, the appearance was of a house that was once greatly loved but which has recently been neglected.

The interior of the little house, however, looked the same as it always had. Honey had taken over not only the cooking but the housecleaning as well, acquiring a new sense of her mother's homey style. The front door opened onto a large, comfortable living room furnished in American contemporary. Treasured mementos and photographs decorated the light-oak end tables and coffee table. Her mother's favorite landscape hung above the overstuffed tan-and-beige couch. The stereo system and television occupied the opposite wall. The old rolltop desk, the only piece of furniture given to them by Grandpa Summers, sat next to the front picture window beside a Brentwood rocker. The clean, modern kitchen led off to the right of the living room and included a spacious eating area with windows looking out onto the front and side yards. The den, three bedrooms, and two baths led off the central hallway connecting the rear of the house with the living room.

Honey sighed as she put the kickstand down on her bicycle resolving to fix the chain later and looked up and down the street. Everything was quiet. The neighborhood, which was three blocks from downtown Bowlen, looked deserted. Of course, no one was foolish enough to be doing yardwork or milling about outside at this time of day in this heat. The oppressive heat of the valley, called by the locals the White Hot, designating the six-week period beginning mid-July through the end of August, kept everyone behind closed, air-conditioned doors. Only the necessities such as work or grocery shopping could pull the people of Bowlen from their homes during this time of year.

During the White Hot, temperatures would soar to over 105 degrees and the usual refreshing breezes of the valley would cease to exist. The depressive combination would sometimes cause whole personalities to change. The people of Bowlen were, for the most part, hardworking, contented, and amiable. But at this time of year, they could become restless and unsatisfied. It seemed to Honey that the adults most affected, or the most to show it, were the community leaders. Instead of becoming lazy with the heat of the summer, they would seem to be invigorated by it. Charities would become frenetic and finally disgusted because of the low activity of the volunteers. Business owners who would normally be customer oriented would become easily agitated and picayune toward their employees for their lack of energy. The town counselors and committee heads would start casting about for projects, often arguing heatedly with each other over which newly proposed improvement should take precedence. As the outside temperatures rose, it seemed, fuses would shorten.

Honey herself didn't feel any different at this time of year, and neither, as far as she could tell, did any of her friends. And, baring recent circumstances, Honey still loved living in Bowlen.

Bowlen was only a tiny dot on any road map, cuddled in a small valley approximately fifty miles west of Richmond, Virginia. It was originally settled by a handful of farmers wanting to escape the big city and had remained a comparatively small town for many years. Then a big boost to the population had come twenty years ago when Mr. Silver, a newcomer at that time, opened the manufacturing plant.

Because of the plant and the jobs it created, the town of Bowlen grew to three times its original size. Two new housing complexes and a row of apartment buildings were built, a new grocery store went up, and the downtown area expanded, boasting of some little specialty shops and two new restaurants. For a while, it looked like Bowlen would become a big city after all. Then, as things have a way of doing, the building slowed down and Bowlen settled for being a lot better off, but not really much larger. In fact, the last new addition to the town was the forty-house tract built ten years ago in which Honey lived.

Since then, Bowlen had settled down to being a small, close-knit, community-oriented town where old-school chums remain friends into adulthood and the biggest event in town is the Fourth of July picnic where everyone is invited. The huge celebration is catered by the plant owner and president himself, Mr. Silver. Honey had always looked forward to the event—until this year.

Honey's father had died in a horrible, unprecedented plant accident just one week prior to the picnic, and her brother, Billy, had run away on the very eve of the fourth, leaving no note or explanation.

However, much the pain over her father and brother was beginning to heal, thinking of them still often brought tears to Honey's eyes. Angrily, she wiped them away, picked up the groceries out of her bicycle basket, and, squaring her shoulders, went inside the house.

Hi, Ma. I'm home, Honey called, not expecting an answering reply.

As she put the groceries away, she was still thinking of her brother and father. She remembered back to a day two months ago.

It was the last day of school, and Honey had ridden her bicycle to the plant to meet her father and brother coming out of work.

Walking toward where she was waiting beside her father's old Ford pickup truck, they were engrossed in conversation, talking animatedly.

Hi, Pa! Honey called as they came within a few yards of her.

Startled, her father had looked up sharply. Well, well, he said, replacing his frown with a smile of welcome. Look who's here, he added with a warning look and a nudge to Billy.

Hi, Billy said sullenly, frowning at her father.

The tension between the two bothered Honey because they rarely argued, but she wasn't about to let it ruin such a fine day.

Her father put her bicycle into the back of the truck, and they all climbed into the cab, Honey sitting between the two men.

I'm all through with school, she said proudly. Today was the last day, and tomorrow night is graduation.

Honey looked expectantly from one to the other. She knew they were planning a special graduation dinner after the ceremonies for her at La Petit Rose, the fancy French restaurant downtown, and wanted to talk about it. Obviously, they didn't.

There must have been some argument they were having.

Then, like the morning sun breaking through cloudy skies, her father slowly smiled. He glanced at her and said, Well, graduate, how does it feel?

Wonderful, she answered. I feel like I'm all grown up now. My childhood is behind me.

Well, her father laughed, don't forget you'll always be my little girl. I am very proud of you.

Thank you, Pa, Honey said humbly.

Her father's praise was her most treasured gift. She felt she could do anything and become whatever she wanted as long as she had his support and broad shoulders to lean on. She felt very proud to be the daughter of Dan Summers.

She glanced happily at Billy. You going out with Lara this weekend?

Sure, he said quietly, glancing across to his father. Congratulations on your graduation, little sister. He smiled. Didn't think you'd make it.

If you could, anybody could, she retorted and giggled as he poked her in the side for that remark.

Billy was going to marry Lara Johnson, one of Honey's best friends and the prettiest girl in the county according to Billy.

Honey envied Lara, her Italian good looks that she had gotten from her mother's side of the family. Lara had a clear olive complexion and long thick brown hair. She stood 5'5" and had a model's slender body. Her intelligent brown eyes and quiet confidence gave her an air of maturity beyond her years. She was the perfect complement to Billy who was six feet tall, blond, blue eyed, and had an athlete's physique and a ready smile. Billy kept Lara from taking herself and life too seriously, and she was his steadying force keeping his natural impishness within acceptable limits.

Billy and Lara were to be wed the first day of autumn because that was Lara's favorite season and Billy would be hard pressed to wait any longer for his Lara.

Honey thought they were very sweet together. Every night after supper, Billy would walk to Lara's and they'd stroll through the town hand in hand discussing the day, their future together, and the growing joint savings account they had opened when they became engaged last Christmas. Next month, they would have enough money to buy a used truck and put a small down payment on the little house over on Chelsea Street they planned to own.

Honey glanced at her father, Dan Summers. People called him Dan, never Danny. He'd joke that he was much too big to be called Danny. He was rarely this quiet. All her life, she could remember this big strong man being full of life, always ready to help a friend either through a loan or advice. He was never what you would describe as handsome. He was 6'2" tall of indeterminant ancestry through a series of rather-interesting marriages and had a little boy's wonder, enthusiasm, and lust for life. His weathered and craggy features were saved from harshness by his smile. Then his eyes would twinkle and the whole room would light up around him. It's little wonder Ma fell in love with this generous, kind, loving man.

That night after supper and Billy had left, Mr. Johnson came over. Mr. Johnson was a somewhat-dull man but with big ambitions. Martha and Lara were the center of his life. Lara felt sorry for her father because he always wanted to give them more than he was capable of giving. She often wished that he would slow down long enough to take a good look around and realize that her mother and she were happy and contented, and all they really wanted was for him to be the same. Ben Johnson was almost as round as he was tall with a shiny bald spot fringed with short spiky hair and a weak mouth. Thank goodness, Lara doesn't take after her father, Honey thought as Mr. Johnson entered the living room.

Can I get you a cup of coffee? Mrs. Summers asked as she waved him to a comfortable chair.

Darla Summers was a very attractive forty-year-old with shoulder-length dark-ash-blond hair. She had soft-blue eyes framed with naturally dark thick eyelashes. She wore a minimum amount of makeup and dressed casually, although in style. She was straightforward and honest in all dealings whether with the meatman or her friends. She was a very loving mother and wife, and her pride in them showed in countless ways. Her dry sense of humor could surprise you, but the twinkle in her eyes and pleasure she received in getting off a good one would throw everyone into spasms of laughter. Darla held a simple, common-sense view of life and was always happiest when surrounded by her family.

Sure, Darla, Ben replied, wringing his hands. Then I'd like to have a little chat with Dan if you don't mind. Just man stuff, you understand, he added with a wink.

Certainly, Darla said stiffly. "You males may use the den."

Right this way, Ben, Dan said, smothering a chuckle and shaking his head.

Honey noted with amusement that the exchange had gone completely over Ben's head.

Honey waited until the men were settled in the den and her mother had turned on the television before she left the kitchen and headed for the hallway.

Where are you going? her mother asked suspiciously.

To my room, Honey answered innocently.

Well, okay, her mother said with a frown.

Honey had a very annoying habit that only her family and a few close friends knew about. She listened at keyholes. And no matter how hard she tried to break the habit or was punished for it, she couldn't stop herself.

Although she knew the private male meeting in the den was probably nothing more than Ben Johnson asking for a loan or paying back the last one, she just had to find out.

At first, she was confused by the tone of voice her father was using. She and Billy had heard it many times before. It was her father's lecturing voice. But she had never heard him use it in an adult conversation. What was he lecturing Mr. Johnson about? Honey listened, fascinated.

Dan, Dan. I know all that. You warned me. I should have listened. I'm listening now. And if you won't help me because I've been a class A idiot, then what about Lara and Billy and Martha? What do you think it would do to them if they knew? Please, Dan, Ben pleaded. Please. I need your help. I don't know where else to go. Please.

All right, all right. I'll speak with Fred, see if he'll let you back out gracefully, Dan said gruffly. For Billy and Lara and Martha, I'll help you. In fact, Ben, Billy and Lara have already noticed a problem. Billy told me today. They are both very concerned about you. But this is the last time, Dan warned, and it may be dangerous. These aren't the Boy Scouts. I don't think anything will happen to me or mine or I wouldn't do it. But you, I don't know about. You may already know too much.

I don't care about myself. I deserve anything they can do. I just want out. And I want my family kept out. No matter what you may think, Dan, I didn't know it was drugs. Honest to God. I didn't know. I thought it was contraband, jewels, or art maybe.

Okay, Ben. I believe you. Now here's what we'll do.

Just what do you think you are doing there, young lady?

Oh! Honey jumped, startled by her mother. Caught. Again. I'm sorry, Ma, Honey said, shamefaced.

Get away from that door and come into the living room with me until your father and Ben are through talking. Then we'll see what your father has to say about this. March!

Honey remembered later that her father just shook his head sadly when told she'd been eavesdropping. He'd asked her what she'd heard, and when she said nothing, that Ma had caught her too soon, he dropped the whole subject. At that time, she was so embarrassed at being caught that she truly didn't remember any of the conversation. But she