by Lara Swann
Something like that? C’mon…
“Is everything okay here, Ma’am?” He has a slight Southern drawl that immediately catches my attention, and whereas the first man seems pretty flustered, the way this one looks at me is…slightly intense. I don’t know if that’s just because I’m worked up and on high-alert, but it’s hard to ignore.
“Yeah, fine.” I say, carefully maintaining that relaxed tone and expression. “I was just asking a bit about what’s wrong with our sewers - is it a fatberg, down there?”
His frown deepens. “I’m afraid we’re really not the right people to talk to about all that. We just do the work.”
Or not, from the amount I’ve seen you standing right outside here watching people go by in the last few days.
“Oh really? You can’t tell me even a little about what you’re dealing with?”
He shakes his head. “Company policy, I’m afraid. Above our pay grade.”
He says that with a small glare at the other man, who suddenly looks awkward.
“Ah, right.” I nod, going along with it. “Who do you think I should talk to, then, if I want to know a little more?”
The men exchange glances again.
“I’m not sure.” He finally says, surprising me. He doesn’t even have a generic manager or public representative name he can foist me off onto? “You probably want to speak to someone like the Mayor about that - he could put you in contact with the right person.”
I nod slowly.
“Or, maybe if I contact the company - what is it, Drainage Solutions Limited?” I ask, reading off one of the vans they’ve got parked here. “They might know the best person to speak to, right?”
I’m pushing further than I intended to - my questions now falling far beyond the don’t really understand and just curious story I gave the first guy - but the more I hear, the more I can’t help myself. I can suddenly see the thrill in being a police detective - trying to catch someone in a lie, asking questions until things stop adding up and you have your answer. I just want to get him to say something - to prove me right, somehow.
He shrugs, his expression unreadable as he answers me. “Maybe - couldn’t tell you that. Wouldn’t bet on it, though, they tend to only talk to potential clients about their problems, not just curious bystanders about projects we’ve already got ongoing. No offense.”
‘They’? Not ‘we’? For the company he works for?
“None taken.” I say, and he cuts in before I can ask anything more.
“Good.” He nods. “Now, if you’ll excuse us Ma’am, we need to get back to work.”
He gestures to his companion and they turn to leave before I can say anything, leaving me somewhere between frustrated and triumphant. Probably more the former than the latter.
I take one last look at the construction site before turning to go, mixed feelings overwhelming me. None of that sounded or felt right. Sure, if I’m really giving them the benefit of the doubt, I could say that my questions caught the first guy by surprise and he just wasn’t thinking about his answers, which when paired with a reluctance to say anything, might explain how basic his comments were - but that just doesn’t feel right.
Everything they said seemed odd to me…not at all what I would expect from drainage engineers trying to tackle a sewage problem. But apart from trying to call Drainage Solutions Limited, I’m not sure what I can do about it.
I come away from the site with the frustration slowly overtaking the momentary triumph I felt at the verbal sparring - I might have come away more sure than ever that some of my suspicions have to be right, but I still have absolutely nothing to show for it.
Chapter Fourteen
Kelsey
When I call the drainage company the next day, it’s exactly as the man said it would be. Almost suspiciously so, though I’m not sure whether I’m just suspicious at everything these days.
They refuse to talk to me or pass on my details to anyone else - claiming that private contracts are confidential and that unless I want to talk about a drainage problem of my own, they have nothing to say to me. They’re not quite that rude, but almost - enough that that makes me wonder too. What small business these days can survive without a good reputation and customer advocacy? If I actually ever did have a drainage problem, that conversation would be enough to put me off even considering them.
Maybe it’s because I’m an individual and they obviously deal with bigger issues than simply plumbing, but I would have thought the same standards apply.
I’m still trying to turn it all over in my head by the time it gets to the weekend, sitting out on the deck and looking through the documents I’ve pulled together. They don’t tell me anything new, but I try anyway.
I get the suddenly bright idea to take a look at Drainage Solutions Limited’s website, too, and then only get more infuriated when it seems perfectly legitimate - and like it’s been around for a while. It’s not even all modern and sparkly like most websites are these days, just slightly dated in the way I imagine most companies of its type would be.
I check the reviews, too, which are dated over the last ten years or so and of all different ratings - the average decent, but not amazing. Absolutely nothing suspicious.
When I look at all of that, it makes my suspicions from the conversation I had this week seem almost ludicrous and I feel like slamming my head against the table. It’s getting so hard to deal with the paranoia and suspicion…not being able to tell if I’m being crazy, or if there’s legitimately something here—
“Hey Kelsey.”
The small voice interrupts me, and I glance up to see Maya swinging on the gate between our two properties.
“Hey, Maya.” I say, almost gratefully. Right now, the distraction is more than welcome.
“Are you painting?” She asks, looking hopefully over at the table I’ve got papers set up across.
I can’t help smiling to myself at the question. It’s pretty obvious I’m not painting - but I know a hint when I hear one.
“No…but I could be.” I say, smiling at her. “Do you want to come over and paint with me?”
“Can I?” She asks almost shyly, looking at the ground while she does.
“Yeah, of course. Painting sounds a lot better than what I was doing, anyway.”
“What were you doing?” She asks, bouncing slightly as she opens the gate and comes through to my deck.
I hurriedly gather up my papers and put them back into their folder, shutting my laptop at the same time. I doubt there’s anything there that Maya would understand or recognize from a brief glance, but you never know…and kids can be notorious for repeating exactly the wrong thing.
“Just work.” I say, shrugging as I take it all inside and get out the painting gear.
Maya comes to help me and within a few minutes we have everything set up in our usual spot. Maya doesn’t seem interested in the half-finished painting I’ve been keeping for her, but I go back to the one I was working on last time - and realize with a jolt just how long it’s been. I’ve been totally absorbed by that investigation for far too long now - and I don’t do things like this enough.
“I’m glad you suggested this, Maya.” I tell her, genuinely, giving her shoulder a small squeeze as we get the paints out. “I needed a break.”
She nods, but doesn’t say anything.
“How are your painting classes going?”
“Good.” She shrugs, dipping her paintbrush into the different colors and mixing them together as I frown slightly.
She was a lot more enthusiastic about that the last time I asked.
We start painting together and the silence between us is comfortable, but still a little surprising. She’s a lot quieter than usual, seemingly lost in thought more than painting half the time, and I wonder what’s going on in her little head. I don’t bother her about it, though. I never like it when someone asks about my thoughts uninvited.
Twenty minutes later, when I’ve mostly zoned out an
d stopped noticing it, it seems to come out anyway.
“Kelsey…”
“Mm?” I say absently.
“Are you sad?”
“Huh?” I glance over at her, frowning slightly. “No, sweetheart, I’m not sad.”
Distracted, maybe. A little frustrated, sure…do I seem sad?
Or maybe it’s not about me at all.
I gentle my tone, softening my expression as I give her more of my attention.
“Are you sad, Maya?”
She seems to think about it for a moment, before slowly shaking her head. “No…I don’t think so.”
“Okay, well…that’s good.”
She’s silent for a while, frowning at her painting and flicking the brush over it in a way that makes me start to think that’s the end of the conversation, however brief and confusing.
“Daddy’s sad.” She finally says, sighing. “He said that today is his sad day and that everyone is allowed to have days when they feel sad…but I don’t want to feel sad…I want to be happy.”
It takes me a moment to unpack all that, and my gaze lifts immediately to the house behind her, lingering there as I think of Liam. I have no idea what might be going on, but my chest tightens with sympathy anyway.
“Well…” I start, feeling slightly out of my depth here. “I think your Daddy is right, you know. It’s okay to have a day when you’re sad, and maybe you don’t even know the reason for it, but sometimes it happens. But…he wouldn’t want you to be sad too, just because he is, sweetheart. If you aren’t sad today, that’s a good thing. You can be happy.”
She tilts her head at me, frowning intensely.
“He’d want you to be happy, Maya.” I repeat softly, not doubting that for a moment.
She’s silent for a moment - and when she finally replies, she doesn’t answer that.
“I don’t like it when he’s sad.”
Ohh, sweetheart…
“I know. It’s not nice when the people we care about are sad. I’m sure he doesn’t like it when he’s sad, either - and especially when you’re sad.”
“I don’t get sad like he does.”
“No, I’m sure you don’t…his is a grown-up kind of sad, right?”
She nods. “I want to make it better, but I don’t know how.”
“Of course you do. You’re a very kind little girl, Maya—”
“I’m not little.”
“—no, of course not. But little compared to me, huh?”
She squints up at me, assessing for a moment. “Hmmm….maybe.”
I give her a small smile. God, she’s adorable, and my heart is just going out to her. Part of me wonders why I haven’t had more of these kinds of conversations with my own nieces and nephews - but then, I guess they have both their parents to talk to…and the rest of my family, too.
“Well, why don’t you paint him a picture?” I suggest, mostly to give her a way to feel less helpless about the whole thing. “I’m sure he’d like that. It might not fix everything, but it could help.”
Her face lights up, and I know I’ve said something right, at least.
“Yes.” She says suddenly, some of the enthusiasm coming back into her voice. “I’ll do that!”
I smile, reaching out to squeeze her shoulder, even though she hasn’t really stopped talking.
“I’m going to paint him a unicorn. Unicorns make everything better.”
“They do, don’t they?” I smile, my heart feeling like it’s swelling inside my chest with the warmth of this little girl beside me. “That’s a great idea, Maya.”
She smiles back at me - and just like that it turns into a grin, some of the life and energy coming back into her expression as she discards the painting she had just started and begins again. I help her draw the outline of the unicorn - I’m getting better and better at drawing outlines of fairytale creatures, I’ve noticed - and she starts painting with a smile on her face again.
This time, she starts chattering away in her usual manner and it warms me to know that I found a way to make her feel better. We paint, and talk a little bit, for the next couple of hours - but I can’t help how my gaze drifts towards her house…and my mind, too. I know it’s none of my business, but my heart goes out to Liam and whatever he’s struggling with at the moment - and I wish I had some way of helping him too.
I can sympathize with Maya in that - only, for me, I’m not sure it will be resolved by something simple like giving him a painting.
When she finishes, she jumps up quickly, obviously eager to get back to him and I give her a smile.
“It’s a wonderful painting, Maya - I’m sure your Daddy will like it very much.” I tuck a strand of hair that’s escaped from her braid behind her ear. “It might not fix everything right away, you know, but I’m sure it will help.”
I have to say that - the last thing I want is her dissolving into tears if he doesn’t react how she’s hoping and giving him that to deal with as well.
“I know.” She nods, her expression turning serious, with a level of understanding I don’t expect to see. “But this way, he’ll know I love him - and I didn’t bother him, either.”
Oh, my beating heart…
I can’t help myself, I scoop her up into a hug. “He always knows you love him, Maya.”
She smiles at me when I pull away, giving a little wave before turning and semi-skipping back to her house. I watch her go, thinking about the man inside it and spending a very long time convincing myself not to go around there myself.
I want to, but I’m not sure Liam would welcome it - or want to deal with the idea that Maya might have shared something he’d rather no one else know.
With a sigh, I go back into the house and try to lose myself in some other distraction. Not the investigation - I don’t think I can take any more of that today - but I start working on the scrap book I’m making for Elizabeth for Jackson’s third birthday, instead.
I keep an eye out on the house next to me, but I don’t see Liam come out at all. I’m not sure I expected him to, exactly, but maybe I was hoping.
It’s only later that evening, when I wander outside to enjoy the cooler temperature that you only get here at night in the summer, that I see the outline of Liam sat at the table in his yard. The moon and stars are brilliant tonight, and the soft illumination over him - hazy, with everything painted in gray scale - takes my breath away for a moment.
I don’t miss the beer in his hand - or the ice bucket with a few more on the table - and the way he’s leaning back with his arms folded, staring out at the world, I don’t think I would have needed Maya’s comments to work out something isn’t quite right.
I get the same stab of doubt as before - wondering whether I should turn around and leave him be, not wanting to intrude - but I find something pulling me over there anyway. His profile in the moonlight is almost statuesque, something deep and perfect about it, even if the image it makes is bleak.
I don’t say anything, just come and lean against the fence between our houses, a stone’s throw away from the table he’s sitting at. I don’t look at him either, not wanting to push any kind of expectation on him, but just wanting to be there. I’ve found that sometimes company helps when I’m feeling miserable, but only if it doesn’t expect anything of me. Instead, I look off into the night too, and there’s a strange kind of peace out here at this time.
He doesn’t say anything, but I can feel the way he’s aware of my presence. I’m not even sure he looks over at me, so I don’t exactly know how, but he is. There’s something about him that seems to make the hairs on the back of my neck stand up when he notices me, something deep and intent.
We stay there like that for a long time - I’m not sure how long - and it’s only when he finally looks my way that I say anything.
“Maya said you were feeling sad today.” I offer, quietly, fully prepared for him to tell me to mind my own business.
I don’t even want to know what’s going on - a first for me
- I just…care about him, I guess. He’s a great guy and he doesn’t deserve to be alone for those moments he needs someone…if that’s what he wants.
He lets out what sounds like a slightly pained chuckle, shaking his head.
“Of course she did.” He says, his voice soft…and slightly hoarse.
Something about it makes a lump rise in my throat, and I don’t even know why. That doesn’t make any sense.
He doesn’t offer anything more, and I don’t ask, but the silence starts to feel almost companionable…comfortable. I don’t know how long passes, just looking at the stars with my thoughts wandering idly, but I don’t notice it until he eventually tilts his head back toward me.
“How long are you going to stand there?”
Something about it makes me smile, though I know he can’t see me.
“Until you walk back into your house, or tell me to go away.” I say simply.
I hadn’t realized that was my plan until I said it - but I know immediately that was always my intention - and I leave it with him like that. His choice. I won’t intrude if I’m unwelcome, but I’ll be here without him having to say anything, otherwise. I don’t know what it is about this that makes me feel like he needs that - maybe it’s just my own self-importance - but I’ve caught glimpses of a haunted look from him once or twice, underneath all the charm, and I won’t risk leaving him alone if he might want company.
He grunts, but there’s something wry about it as he gestures to the chair beside him.
“Guess you’d better come join me, then.”
I smile, even though he’s still only giving me the occasional sidelong glance, feeling like I judged this right.
He knocks a beer against the lip of the bucket, popping the cap off before handing it to me. I raise it in his direction and he follows suit but doesn’t say anything before knocking back another long swallow.
I take a sip, the bitter taste lingering in my mouth as the bubbles slip down my throat. I don’t mind beer, but it’s not my drink of choice, so I’ve never quite gotten used to the taste.