by Marni MacRae
“Balance?” I’m soothed by their reassurances and logical reasoning, but it still niggles at the back of my mind that no one really needs five dresses or three pairs of heels. When will I wear them? Certainly not while cleaning.
“Eve.” Anabel reaches for my hand. “I’m about to break rule number two, and kind of rule number one, but perhaps you need to hear this. You have come from a bad place.” Laurel nods in agreement. “You have had a burden to bear that would challenge even the most righteous. The balance of enjoying the gift of plenty when it is earned and happens upon your life is your due. It shouldn’t be marred by guilt.”
I don’t say anything. I can’t find words to respond. These two women are so kind to me, have welcomed me so easily into their lives, I feel my chest tighten and take a deep breath to hold back tears. “Brighton Valley is the balance,” I finally say. “This is all just stuff.”
“Amen,” Laurel whispers.
Chapter 26
Monday morning, I awake to my phone chiming with a text.
With bleary eyes, I grab at it, opening my text history to see Eve’s number there. I sit up quickly, praying nothing is wrong. She hasn’t called me with her phone yet, and I had no idea she even knew how to text.
Good morning, it read as I tapped to open it,thanks for the pizza, the phone and for everything you are. I miss you. See you at one. Eve.
Last night I had driven to Eve’s in hopes we could talk. Finally. The topic of our Saturday morning spent in bed had been pushed to the side after Eve’s encounter with Richard Bast. After two hours of questioning at the station with Lee, Richard hadn’t given us anything useful. He had been drunk, and even after two pots of coffee and a sandwich we forced him to eat, he had barely enough brain power to remember what he had said to Eve.
“Chicken, man. I called her little chicken. What’s the big deal? You can’t keep me in here for calling some girl a name.”
“No, but I can keep you on public intoxication and resisting arrest. I can hold you for questioning on an open missing persons case, and honestly Richard, I may just book you because I don’t like you.”
Lee had been fuming. The scene at the barbeque hadn’t been pretty, but somehow, everyone had sprung into action as smoothly as a choreographed dance. I had seen Richard approach Eve and Anabel, stumbling drunkenly. I had started over, just to make sure there was no trouble, but I was still half a block away when he grabbed her and they fell. My eyes were glued to Eve, I saw her face change when he muttered something in her ear, saw her scream as they fell, and my blood turned to ice. I watched as Ana caught her, Eve’s body already limp when they hit the ground together.
Then Ezra was beside her, taking her weight from Anabel as people began to gather. I reached them just as Richard was trying to roll over, get his feet under him. Grabbing him with both hands I tore him from the ground, away from Eve, his stench hitting me like a physical thing. His blood was swimming in liquor. He yelled something and lashed out, only to find Lee there, grabbing his hands, twisting them behind his back smoothly in a practiced move. I don’t know where the cuffs came from, but I heard Lee click them to Richard’s wrists.
I finally released the filthy man, stepping away, turning toward Eve who still had her eyes closed. Ezra hovered over her along with Elizabeth, and I caught a glimpse of Doc reaching into his car up the street. Getting his bag. Good. But before I could take a step toward her, I felt someone plow into my side, nearly knocking me down. Richard was thrashing like an eel on a hook, kicking out at Lee, shouting curses, spittle spraying with every word.
Then Clarabelle had decided to join the fray. Before she could open her mouth, Anabel was there, a steel stare and a look like a grim reaper.
“Get in your car. Go home. Expect social services to be at your door for those children.” The ice in her tone conveyed clearly to everyone who heard her she meant business. Clarabelle would not be taking one more step.
The woman’s chubby face had paled a bit, but one glance at the group of women gathering behind Ana had made her decision for her. She returned to her car without a word and pulled away from the street. I had my hands under Richard’s elbows, helping Lee to drag/carry the drunk to the patrol car parked in his drive. Lee hadn’t joked or made a single quip. When we reached the rear door of the car, we propped Richard against it and Lee began reading him his rights.
I took a step back and looked at Eve. She was talking to the doc. Awake and glancing around. Laurel was herding the bystanders who insisted on crowding to get a look at the scene, drawn to drama like moths to a flame. The tall blonde’s no-nonsense attitude matched with a few choice words had people stepping back, making room.
“Seriously?” I heard her voice cut through the crowd. “You should be ashamed of yourselves. I see you, Nancy Samson, and I will bust that phone if you even think of taking a picture.”
She’s in good hands. Every part of me wanted to push through the Brighton Valley busybodies. I wanted to protect Eve from theirs stares and whispers and carry her home with me where I could keep her safe. Instead I had turned and slid into the passenger seat of the patrol car, doing my best to ignore the slobbering insults from the back seat.
Lee turned the key in the ignition without a word. We both knew there was no way he could keep me from being there during questioning of Richard. But after hours of trying to sober up his alcohol-soaked mind and drag any sense from him, his only admission is that he had called her a name.
I decided we needed a change in tactic. Good cop bad cop works for a reason. I gritted my teeth and prepared to woo the filthy drunk.
“Lee, man, back off. Richard’s right. He hasn’t committed a crime. I mean, we were all enjoying the barbeque. Right?” I shrugged my shoulders and sat across from Richard at the plain metal table in the small interrogation room. “Hell, I had a few drinks myself.”
“Yeah.” Richard nodded his head and sneered at Lee. “Hell, it was your beer I was drinkin’. No crime, man. ‘Sides, that little chicken acted like she didn’t even know me. Rude, I call that.” He nodded again, the movement making him sway in his seat.
My heart had stopped for a beat. Acted like she didn’t know him? So, he knew her. Before.
“Sounds kind of rude to me,” I agree, my heart pounding so loudly in my ears I was almost deaf. Lee was holding his tongue, waiting for it to play out, see if good cop got more answers. I ran through a few million questions I wanted to ask, but took a breath and leaned back in my chair, trying to appear relaxed. “So, you knew the girl, you were just saying hi. Right?”
“Yeah, I knowed her. Well, I met the chick, when she was just a scrawny kid. Ha! Chick!” He laughed at his own bad joke, and his eyes closed for a minute.
I thought maybe he had passed out and leaned forward. “That’s right. Chick, chicken, get it, Lee?” Lee grunts. “So, why call her that? I mean, it seems a bit strange to call a girl a chicken. You hadn’t seen her in how long?”
“Ah, hell.” Richard’s eyes pop open. “Years, man. I didn’t call her that. It was her pa. ‘Little chicken.’ Old Arthur introduced her like that. She had them skinny legs and hid like a scared chick. Would peek out from behind him or just plain hide when we was around. Little chicken. That’s her.””
“Where does she live?” I couldn’t keep from leaning forward, sounding eager. Richard rolled his eyes.
“Aw, man, I was jus’ a kid. Went with my pa around the back hills, fixin’ trucks an' shit. You know, doin’ trades and makin’ some money, it’s how we worked.”
“So, where was Arthur’s place? Little chicken’s home? “
“I don’t know, man, that’s what I’m sayin’.” Richard took a breath and finally looked me in the eyes. He seemed almost lucid, close to sober. “I was fourteen, fifteen maybe. There are them places all over back in the woods. I only been there the once and couldn’t tell you it was the place if I was standin' in it right now. I only remember the chicken girl cuz of them eyes. They ain’t natural, m
an.”
That was all we got. The same story, same version. A lot of 'I don’t knows.’ Finally, Richard puked all over himself and the table, and I called enough.
Lee drove me back to his place, and I picked up my truck and drove straight to Eve’s.
Yesterday morning hadn’t brought any more clarity to the incident. After waking beside her, we had started our day as if it were any other.
“I know you're worried, everyone seems so worried, but honestly, I’m fine.” Eve had busied herself with the coffee maker, pouring in water and checking a slip of paper beside the pot before measuring the grounds and dumping them into the filter.
“Really.” She pressed the button to start the percolator and turned back to me. “I don’t know what to say. Doctor Eston says that Anabel heard him say something to me, but I don’t remember that.” She was quiet for a minute and then joined me at the kitchen island, perching herself on a stool.
“Do you know what he said?” she asked quietly, almost timidly.
I hesitated before I answered. I didn’t want to lie to her and so responded honestly.
“Yes. Lee and I questioned him. He told us.” I didn’t offer more, sensing that she may not want to know and that it might end badly if I told her. Hearing Richard call her “little chicken” yesterday sent her into another screaming episode and a brief blackout. Her mind erased the memory of it. It may be best to leave it alone. But it wasn’t my right to withhold it if she wanted to know. So, I had waited patiently, holding my breath, not sure if I wanted her to ask—maybe we could get some answers—or leave it alone. Keep Eve safe, here with me.
“I don’t want to know,” she whispered. Reaching for my hand, she had raised her eyes to mine and I saw the fear there. “I don’t think I’m ready to know.”
I had nodded and accepted her decision. I agreed. She wasn’t ready. And it was no time to bring up Saturday morning. I wanted to discuss it. Hell, I wanted to pick her up and take her back upstairs, curl up with her under the blankets and revisit that warm, safe place we had found together. I wanted to explore my own feelings, share them with her. I had blatantly gone against Dr. Leesing’s advice and wanted to ask Eve if she regretted it, if she was okay. But I had sighed and slid from my stool. Knowing there was too much to do, too much to know before we could begin traveling down that road. I had left her then. I had held her against me to say goodbye, then forced my arms to release her.
I spent the day with Lee, going over maps. We put a pin in the spot Richard claimed he grew up. His father, long since passed away, was not around to question. We drew a thirty-mile radius around the pin and set out a grid. Homes to search, knock on their door, show Eve’s picture, ask about Arthur. Get some answers.
This was Lee’s day off and mine, and we wanted to cover as much ground as we could. I didn’t want to lose Eve. It was killing me to think that possibility was there. But I couldn’t in good conscience ignore the lead, and there was no one else to follow it.
After miles of back roads and a few scares when greeted by firearms, we had put a good dent in the grid we had laid out. But not one answer. No one knew Arthur or recognized Eve. At least that’s what they claimed if they answered the door or put aside their guns long enough for us to ask. I picked up a pizza after dropping off Lee and spent the evening with Eve, listening with one ear as she chatted about her day at the mall.
Her hair had been cut, and although it was flattering and I could tell she liked it, I missed her choppy locks. We enjoyed each other’s company, and I let the stress of the day drain out of me. I was happy to just be with her and glad that she seemed to be doing well.
I left early, earlier than I wanted to, but I knew she had to get up with the sun to start on the gardens, something she was eager to begin. And I had paper work to catch up on before heading to the job site in the morning. I had lingered at the door, leaning down to kiss her. Her response was immediate and full of the warmth I had grown used to tasting on her soft mouth.
It was tempting to stay. To indulge myself in her. But, of course, I chose to be a gentleman and set my selfishness aside. Mom spent too much time beating good manners into me. She would have been proud as I did the right thing and walked away.
Chapter 27
After three days of digging and pulling weeds, my back feels tight and sore. I stand to stretch bound muscles and lift my face to the sun. Another two days and the plots will be ready for seeds. Looking around the walled garden at my progress, I feel a sense of pride and accomplishment. My mind runs a tally of things yet to be done, tasks to finish before I can begin the planting. I still need to run the stringers for vines, ask Elizabeth about straw for mulching and test the sprinklers. Aaron, the head gardener, had stopped in to introduce himself and show me where the pump house is. He had pointed out the control panel for the vegetable garden, but it seemed daunting at the time. I plan to tackle mastering the contraption over the weekend.
Pulling my phone from my pocket, I flip it open to read the digital display. 11:45. Fifteen more minutes. I grin and turn to the long bed I’ve been working on all morning. The largest plot in the garden, it runs the length of the north wall, and I plan to sow corn here.
Like my birthplace. I feel a chill at the stray thought but brush it away quickly. I’ve gotten in the habit of avoiding everything to do with who I once was. Questions and concerns, stray thoughts that pop up, even the journal I had begun that Dr. Leesing had given me. I am Eve. It’s who I want to be, and that’s all I intend to focus on.
Kneeling alongside the intended corn bed, I tackle a large clump of weeds with my spade. Dig out the roots to make room for new life. I feel defiant, stubborn. Like a petulant child. I grit my teeth and shake my head. Sometimes my inner voice is mean. Honest, admittedly, but not a gentle observer.
I hear the garden gate hinges squeak and make a mental note to ask Aaron for oil. Rising to my feet, I brush off my knees and turn to find Ezra waiting patiently.
“Ready to go?”
The older man nods, glancing around the garden as he enters. “You’ve made some progress.”
“Yes.” Gathering my garden tools, I glance around at the work I have accomplished in three days. “I think it’s coming along.”
Ezra retrieves the shovel leaning against the brick wall and follows me to the garden shed. “I remember when this garden was built.’
“Really?” Setting the equipment on the shelves, I take the shovel from him and place it inside the door before shutting it.
“Ms. Thornton, Elizabeth’s grandmother, always shared the harvest with us. My mother would make vegetable soup every day for a month. I can still recall the taste of it.”
I tuck my hand in the crook of his elbow as we exit the garden, strolling comfortably together down the path toward the “big house” as Ezra calls it. “You’ve seen a lot of changes here at the estate.”
“Yes, miss.”
Ezra had changed after the barbeque. Not in any extreme way, but he’s more open now. We are comfortable with each other, and I find I look forward to our afternoon drives to Nick’s job site.
“Let me just run in and wash up. I won’t be a minute.”
“No rush, miss.”
I leave him at my front door, knowing better than to invite him in, to offer ice tea, or coffee. I have already tried. He politely declines. I’ve accepted that there are limitations to our friendship, that Ezra is set in his ways from a world I will never know. The decades that separate us in age is a chasm between us, but it is bridged by mutual respect and a genuine caring.
I leave the front door open and jog up the stairs to my room. I have fallen into a comfortable routine this week. I wake at dawn, spend breakfast with Elizabeth, and work in the garden. Then, I change from my muddy clothes and boots to functional slacks and clean shoes—no need to track half of Kentucky into Nick’s lovely new homes. I spend the afternoon cleaning the freshly built structures, loving the sound of hammering and machinery just down the street
. It makes me think of Nick and all the work put into the neighborhood coming to life.
After changing out of my mud-streaked jeans and boots, I scrub my hands, splash water on my face, and remove all traces of the garden. Then I jog back down the stairs to find Ezra exactly where I left him.
The car ride is not long. Only a few miles. But I enjoy the view as Ezra winds through the streets. All the trees are finally starting to unfold their leaves. The scent of new life blooming permeates Brighton Valley.
“You’ve been putting in long hours.”
Ezra’s voice breaks into my thoughts, and I turn my face to him.
“Not too long, really. Just like everyone else’s workdays.”
“Do you enjoy the work?”
He casts a glance at me, and I can see his concern. Ever since the barbeque, Ezra has been…doting. Not quite hovering, but clearly worried about me. He checks in on me from time to time, and I find him watching me at breakfast, looking for tells that I have slept well or that I am eating enough. He doesn’t push, and I don’t mind his concern. It feels almost fatherly. It’s comforting to me actually. With everyone else, Elizabeth, Nick, and Laurel, I wish they would all just treat me like everyone else. Not like I am fragile and may break or scream at the slightest exertion, although, in reality, I don’t know that I won’t. But I still wish for normalcy.
With Ezra, his concern is like a warm protection—parental and yet not invasive. I feel I can be honest with him.
“I do. It’s therapeutic. Digging out the weeds in the garden and cleaning the homes. My mind wanders and sorts through my days. It’s nice to be in my own space and move through the rhythm of the work.”