by Jaclyn Dawn
“Hi,” Danika said, surprisingly chipper. Our vehicles were parked side by side, and I could see a video playing through the tinted windows of her minivan.
“The puke machines are in the van,” Nathan said. Danika giggled. I wouldn’t have expected her to find a joke about her kids funny. Then again, as much as I wanted to make sense of people, I was realizing I couldn’t fit people into neat little boxes.
“Nathan said you were here to talk to Bobby about Alek’s car,” Danika said. I shot Nathan a look that demanded to know how much he told her. He gave me a slight shake of his head, indicating not what I feared. Nothing about the Inquirer. “No, no,” Danika said, misreading the exchange. “Don’t be mad at him. I want to thank you.”
“I don’t think I’m going to be any help. Bobby just wanted to talk to me because of the message painted on the side the car.”
“Still. You didn’t have to,” Danika said. I felt guilty because I actually did have to. “RC insists that he is Mike’s alibi for that night.”
“Mike told me the same thing,” I said.
“That doesn’t mean he had nothing to do with it, though,” Danika said. “Mike does have a temper.”
“The truth tends to come out,” Nathan said.
“Sometimes it just needs a little help,” Danika agreed. If I didn’t know better, I would have thought they had eavesdropped on my conversation with Officer Petersen.
When I pulled my Jeep into my parents’ driveway, I spotted Mike’s truck peeking out from behind the barn. It wasn’t in its usual spot but near Cutlet’s pen again. Something was wrong.
Nathan followed my eyes to the truck. “Not this character again. Let’s skip the drama and go into the house,” he said, but I didn’t listen.
I hopped out of my Jeep as soon as it was parked and jogged toward the barn. As Mike’s truck came into full view, he appeared, struggling with something large and awkward wrapped in an old blue tarp. Whatever it was, it was heavy, even for Mike. He didn’t seem surprised to see me. He just looked at me, his jaw set and his eyes cold. Then he hoisted the load onto the back of his truck with the help of his knee. It landed with a thud.
“What are you doing?”
Mike pushed the bundle so it slid past the tailgate. A hoof flopped free of the tarp, confirming my fear. I glanced back at Nathan, the vegetarian. He was hovering about twenty feet behind me, his hand covering his mouth. Of course he would stay a safe distance away after Mike had threatened him. It was easy to say stand up to a bully, but harder to do the actual standing up. Mike slammed the tailgate closed, just as he did the night of the fireworks.
“I’m working, Miah,” he said. “I don’t get to read books and sip coffee all day.”
I had hated when Mike would tease me in front of his friends about my luxurious life. They had thought he had been playing, or maybe they hadn’t spoken up because they didn’t want to get in the middle of it. Miah is spoiled. Miah doesn’t know what real work is. Miah’s parents set high standards for our princess. I had been Mike’s maid, secretary, and worse, and I had still worked at Grandma’s Kitchen to help make ends meet. Anger welled up inside me, and if it wasn’t for the image of that hoof burning in my mind, I would have told him I would be shocked if he could even read a book.
“What did you do? Cutlet was fine this morning! I just fed him this morning!”
“He was not a pet,” Mike yelled. “He was a sick calf that was costing the farm money. I did what had to be done.”
“It didn’t have to be done! We both know it.”
“Prove it,” Mike said. He climbed into the truck and started the engine. Cutlet was gone.
CHAPTER 30
DANIKA’S EMAIL WAS EASY TO IDENTIFY. IT WAS FROM HER PERSONAL email account, and it was signed.
From: Danika Miller ([email protected])
Sent: July 15, 2015 11:42:56 a.m.
To: Kingsley Inquirer ([email protected])
Subject: Alek’s Car
Dear Inquirer,
I try not to get wrapped up in gossip and have only ever written to Dear Deirdre before, but there’s a time to be quiet and a time to speak up.
My brother and I proudly grew up in Kingsley. Our childhood consisted of riding our pedal bikes to the park, swimming in a dugout instead of a concrete building, climbing trees and hay bales instead of manufactured playgrounds, and having campfires at night under the stars in the middle of the week.
Even now, going uptown to pick up the mail and a gallon of milk means visiting friends at each stop. I was proud to help with the fundraiser social and to see the community come together to raise money for Gladys. Small-town living is a treasure we have to protect.
My brother’s car was vandalized while parked outside my house on the night of Thursday, July 9th. I have felt unsafe and shaken ever since. If we sit idle and let this happen, what next? Breaking and entering? Graffiti on Main Street? My baba says that many wars were started with a powerfully worded letter, and many wars have ended with one as well. If anybody knows anything, now is the time to speak up to protect the Kingsley we all know and love.
Sincerely,
Danika Miller
I read it through once quickly. Then I read it more slowly in order to dissect it. It was written after she had said I was brave for talking to Bobby about Alek’s car. She said she didn’t gossip and that Alek was proud of growing up in Kingsley. Not quite. She also said there’s a time to be quiet and a time to speak up. She had a point there. All the things she had described about her childhood were a cherished part of my childhood, too. I imagined her writing at the desk in the library, risking the image and social circles she prided herself on. Danika signed her letter. Danika was the brave one. I saved the letter in the newest folder: JUSTICE FOR ALEK. I also saved a copy on my desktop.
CHAPTER 31
NATHAN WAS AS HELPFUL BAKING COOKIES AS HE HAD BEEN PAINTING the fence. He sat with his feet up while I did the work.
“There’s not going to be any cookies unless you quit eating the dough,” I said.
“Make more dough,” he said with a grin. He popped another pinch of peanut butter cookie dough into his mouth. Two dozen chocolate chip cookies were cooling on the counter, and the first dozen peanut butter cookies were in the oven. I was mixing together the ingredients for oatmeal raisin cookies. My plan was to stock the freezer before I left for Vancouver. Somehow it made me feel better about leaving.
“I can’t make more cookie dough. I’m out of eggs,” I said. “You know, those oval things that are supposed to hatch into cute little baby chicks but you eat them instead.”
“I’m allowed to eat eggs. I’m a vegetarian, not a vegan.”
“What’s the difference if you murder a baby chick or a cow?” I asked, but we let the conversation trail off because it reminded us of Cutlet. I wasn’t a vegetarian, and of course I had known Cutlet’s ultimate fate. That wasn’t the point.
I moved all of the cookie dough out of Nathan’s reach. I should have reminded Mom to buy more eggs when she had gone to Kingsley Grocery. It was that Friday again, the Inquirer’s release day. The tabloid held no surprises for me this time. On the cover was a picture of Alek’s car, except Nathan had blurred the spray-painted words on the side to make the headline more enticing.
Vandalized! Alek’s Car Spray-Painted in the Night
The pictures inside the tabloid revealed the spray-painted message: MIAH’S BITCH. Nathan had put a Censored banner at an angle over the middle of the second word, so that only the B and H were visible. It was still obvious what it read, though. I had written the article. We had both worked really hard the last few days. I really wanted to help Officer Petersen, and Nathan was obsessed with pleasing advertisers.
MAKE-OUT SESSION WITH MIAH MEANS DISASTER FOR ALEK
Alek Rooker’s car was vandalized while parked outside his sister’s house in what’s supposed to be a safe and quiet Kingsley neighbourhood.
Police aren’t revealing
suspects but say they aren’t ruling out the possible role of the summer love triangle between Mike, Miah, and Alek. Obviously! Along with a smashed windshield and broken headlights, a profane reference to Miah is spray-painted on the side of the car!
‘Not only is Mike furious over Alek and Miah hooking up on Canada Day,’ a source tells the Inquirer, ‘but he has spotted Alek moving in on his job at the Williams farm, too.’ This draws question to Mike’s motivations and continued work at the Williams farm while Ray is in and out of hospital after his catastrophic fall at Kingsley Grocery.
Was the graffiti the result of another of Mike’s angry outbursts, was Mike framed, or is it possible that the crime is completely unrelated? No matter the culprit, Kingsley citizens say they will not condone crime on their streets.
A local RCMP officer warns: ‘If not dealt with properly, crimes like these can escalate.’
“‘Disaster for Alek.’ I’m worried what the headline will do for your love life,” Nathan said.
“Shut it,” I said, holding a mixing bowl and stirring raisins into the batter with more vigour than any cookie recipe called for. I was nervous enough without thinking about my love life. Of course I suspected Mike was involved somehow and wanted to call him out in big, bold letters like the big, bold letters defaming me on Alek’s car, but I also had Officer Peterson and the sale of Dad’s cows to consider.
“You do realize you’re mad at yourself, right? You wrote the article.”
I scowled at him.
“Come on, Amiah,” he said. “This is a good thing. We’re being let off easy.”
“For now,” I said. “And technically you are being let off completely so far.” I felt uncomfortable with the open-ended way Bobby and I had left our conversation at the diner on Tuesday. Again, it had been strategic on his part. He maintained the power. He had me do what he wanted me to do in exchange for a bit of time. Time Nathan wanted, but I didn’t. The uncertainty wasn’t exciting for me; it was torture. What would happen if we couldn’t reveal who vandalized Alek’s car? And even if we did, what then?
“The cop even said we aren’t doing anything wrong. If he was going to expose you, he would have already. And we would have run the vandalized car story in the Inquirer anyway,” Nathan prattled on. Teaming up with a cop thickened the plot in his twisted reality show. This time he even had a minor part in the cast. It wasn’t that he didn’t care. He was just wired differently than me.
“It smells so good in here,” Tamara’s sugary voice carried from the living room.
“‘It smells so good in here’,” Nathan mimicked. He batted his eyelashes and twirled imaginary hair above his shoulder. It was childish, but he made me laugh and eased the tension I felt whenever the homecare nurse was around. Tamara talked to my dad like he was five years old instead of fifty-eight. It irritated me.
We had gone to town for groceries in hope of missing Tamara’s visit, but she had run late that morning … again. She had been late three times in less than a week.
“Mom had better not offer her any of my cookies,” I whispered. Tamara and I had shared quite enough already. According to Nathan, who had talked to Danika, who had talked to Tamara and been around when Mike and Tamara started openly dating, Tamara had been a rebound and knew it. Danika “kinda felt sorry” for her. Knowing Mike’s quiet control firsthand, I would have felt sorry for Tamara, too, except they had hooked up while he was still living with me. What did she expect? Prince Charming?
“Kingsley is seriously lacking for night life,” Nathan said. “Maybe if there was something to do, people wouldn’t have to entertain themselves by smashing car windows.”
“Yes, because that’s why it happened.”
“Aren’t there any barn dances or hoedowns we can go to this weekend?”
I laughed. “Your depiction of small-town living is warped. And even if there were a party to go to, I don’t want to go.”
“We need to get out, Amiah,” he said. “We’re going to go crazy. Small towns can be like black holes. They suck you in and never let you go.”
“How is that any different from the city? I mean aside from no night clubs, no shopping malls, no fast food restaurants …”
“Starbucks. For the love of God, I need a Starbucks. And it’s different because in the city you can change social circles. Here you are either in or out,” he said.
“Getting homesick, are you?”
“Maybe a bit. It’s so quiet around here,” he said. Tamara’s fake giggle carried from the living room again. “Well, usually. You know I’m here for you, but I think two weeks is all I can get away with for bereavement leave for my fake sick grandma. If you’re ready, too, at least I would be company for the drive back.”
I didn’t answer as I rolled the last ball of cookie dough and placed it on the cookie sheet. I felt torn between Kingsley and Vancouver.
“Think about it,” Nathan said. “But before I do have to go, I need to diversify my Alberta experience. Let’s go to Edmonton tomorrow night.”
Getting out for a night sounded fun. I felt guilty, though, like I needed to ask someone for permission and shouldn’t crave the anonymity of the city for even one night. I put the new batch of cookies into the oven and started zipping the ones that had cooled into freezer bags.
“Phew,” Mom said as she entered the kitchen. “I’m glad I never have to hear Tamara Ennis’s voice again.”
“I thought Dad needed homecare for a month.”
“He does, but the clinic is sending someone new next week,” she said.
The county had a health care clinic that managed all of the surrounding communities. Tamara had likely been assigned my dad’s case because she lived closest to the patient.
“Really? Why?” I asked, struggling between relief and guilt for the relief. That was my anxiety. Always feeling guilty whether it made sense or not.
Mom raised an eyebrow at me and then set to getting Dad some cookies and milk. She knew about Tamara and Mike. I looked at Nathan, who smiled with that big mouth.
CHAPTER 32
CUTLET’S MAMA REJOINED THE HERD. I WONDERED WHETHER SHE missed Cutlet, and whether she cared that she was the only mama without a calf. I felt sorry for her. I finally brought myself to clean out their pen in the barn. I don’t know where Mike had shot Cutlet, but he didn’t shoot him there. Mike would have been deaf if he had fired a shotgun in the barn, and there was no blood anywhere. My morning routine was the same as it had been before Cutlet had gotten sick, but it didn’t offer the same peace as it had before. Chores were tainted by thoughts of Mike. Tainted like everything else in Kingsley.
When I got back to the house, Nathan was still asleep in the spare bedroom. I had expected to find Dad in his sick bed, also known as the couch. He would be sleeping or flicking through the channels on TV while Mom took up her knitting or fussed over the house. Instead, Dad was sitting up with his leg propped on a cushioned stool. Mom was sitting beside him. They were sorting through the big black binder that always sat on the desk in the study. No one went into the study much. I had no interest in the business of the farm, and Mom and Dad weren’t the types to sit at a desk.
“We invited the Hayeses over for supper tonight to discuss the dispersal sale,” Mom said. Despite the history between Mike and me, dinner was appropriate given our families’ long-standing relationship. “The whole crew is coming: Peter and Edith; Travis, Emily, and the three kids; their grandson Austin, who is staying with them for the summer; and Mike. We can’t make you stick around, but your dad and I would like you to be here.”
Before I could open my mouth, she added, “Running and hiding doesn’t solve anything. You have no reason not to hold your head up high. At least think about it.”
What was worse than the idea of sitting across from Mike as he had dinner with my parents was not sitting across from Mike as he had dinner with my parents. Maybe it was time to start being braver. After all, I wasn’t being asked to be brave alone.
“Miah, I think we should talk about that calf again, too,” Dad said.
“Mike killed him,” I said, much more matter-of-factly than I felt. On the day Cutlet was killed, I had gone to Dad crying. Apparently, Mike had told him that the calf had taken a turn for the worse and couldn’t stand up. Dad wasn’t able to go out to the barn to check for himself, so he had trusted Mike. Calling the vet under the circumstances Mike had described would have cost more than the two hundred dollars the calf was worth.
“Was it lame?” he asked.
“No,” I said. “He was fine when I fed him that morning.”
I expected Dad to ask if it was possible that something had happened between when I had fed Cutlet and when Mike had found him, but this time he didn’t.
“I’m sorry I didn’t ask you before I gave Mike the go-ahead,” he said instead.
“It wasn’t your fault.” I didn’t know what to do with an apology. “Is now really a good time to talk about it, though, when they’re all coming over for supper soon?”
“Now is the perfect time,” Mom said.
Dad looked over his reading glasses at me. “We’re going to clear up this business and start a new chapter for everyone.”
I looked down at my fingers and fidgeted with my nails. I wondered what else Nathan had told Mom and how much Mom had told Dad.
I was curling my hair, applying makeup, and driving myself crazy playing out supper scenarios in my head when I heard Nathan singing. He danced his way into my bedroom, working his hips in ways that would have him sleeping on the porch if Dad saw him, no matter which team Nathan played for.
“Oh, come on!” he complained when I scowled at him. “We’re going out tonight!”
“Yes, we are,” I said, “after supper with the Hayeses.”
Nathan wrinkled his nose. He had been supportive of my attending this supper, but he hadn’t agreed to stick around himself. After I made it very clear that he was my getaway driver and had better be on alert for my text, he left with the keys to my Jeep.