by Kodi Heart
Tommy ignored Rikki but flicked his gaze around the table, continuing to eat even as he listened.
“This is the man in the group, right? Has he hit on you, Mary? I’ll take care of him.” Grandpa flexed his arms and even at his age, they rippled impressively.
“Did Don know Debra wanted his membership revoked?” Grandma ignored Grandpa’s suspicions and pierced me with her blue gaze. “Did you find that out, Bonnie?”
There I was, on the spot – while scooping more cheesy potatoes onto my plate. I needed to say something smart to take attention off my actions. Something smart. “Um, no. We only spoke with Tanya. She has a solid alibi. She had mentioned the fight and said Debra didn’t want Don in the group, but we haven’t discussed things with Don. He’s a slippery guy.” A part of me wanted her to ask me to continue investigating. If I had Grandma’s approval, then no one could argue with me doing it. At least no one in the Fleming family.
I glanced at Mom. She nodded. We didn’t like bugging Tanya, but we had started things as they were and finishing them seemed like the most important thing at the moment. Plus, Nikki’s pleas to help her figure out what was going on echoed in my mind. I glanced at Angie.
What had Nikki said to her? Why else would Angie suspect Don in Debra’s death? The only person who had pushed the murder scenario was Nikki. I hadn’t even had a reason to think Debra was killed without Nikki’s information. There was no way Angie had.
Angie shifted in her seat, her eyes downcast as she picked at her salad.
I narrowed my eyes and realized Grandma waited on my answer to a question she hadn’t asked. “We’ll check it out, Grandma.” I smiled as my phone buzzed in my pocket. I leaned back, checking the screen. A text from Nikki confused me even more.
Don’t tell anyone what we talked about.
If I wasn’t supposed to tell anyone, then why was it okay for her to tell everyone and then some? There was no way Angie had come up with the murder scenario on her own. Yet, Nikki acted like it was a huge secret.
Something was going on and I needed to get to the bottom of it.
10
“How long is Aaron supposed to be gone this time?” Mom smiled at Ryder while talking to me.
We met at the ice cream place by the diet center. With two tables pulled together, my kids were immersed in their ice creams, covered in different toppings while they ate contentedly.
I eyed their desserts with a desperate longing. Clearing my throat, I nodded. “With the fires already starting in California, I’m not sure. They were using him for jumpers, but that could change. I’m supposed to plan on three weeks? But who knows. He doesn’t have a lot of time to talk.” Aaron didn’t have to work much, but when he did, he was gone a while. I tried not to complain. His job provided very well for us and I knew I was spoiled because of it. I just hated when he was gone and on dangerous assignments, too.
Turning the topic off my missing best-friend, I leaned toward my mom who faced the doors. I faced the windows perpendicular to us. “Do you really think Don could have something to do with Debra’s death?” I was glad I didn’t have to talk about the things Nikki and I spoke about. I wasn’t sure what any of it meant anyway. I wanted to ask if Mom thought Angie was up to something, but that meant telling all of what Nikki had said. I didn’t feel like getting into all of that with Mom.
The bell above the door tinkled when it opened. The shop was fairly busy for the middle of the afternoon.
Mom’s eyes widened and she didn’t answer me. I opened my mouth to press the issue but an imperceptible shake of her head stilled my tongue. I could see the reflection of the counter in the windows without moving my head. Watching the counter, I waited until the newcomer approached the register before I saw who it was.
Don.
He ordered from the young woman manning the register and turned while he waited for the ice cream to be scooped. He studied each customer like he looked for a specific trait in them.
When his gaze landed on me, a chill spread through me. He started, yanking his hands out of his pocket. After a moment, he turned, claiming the ice cream the woman handed over to him and then he shifted back and forth on his feet.
“Don, how are you? Funny seeing you here.” Mom acted like she was friends with Don and nothing was odd about how he was behaving. I half-turned so I could see him without being rude but also keep an eye on all my little ones.
I wasn’t sure what to focus on; Don, someone I thought could be a killer or the chocolate mint ice cream he already looked bored with. A bite wouldn’t be a big deal, right? The mint wasn’t an option since it was Don’s, but there was a brownie, Oreo cluster David had gotten I could take a bite of. He probably wouldn’t finish anyway.
Approaching, Don grinned like he didn’t have a care in the world. “I didn’t know you had kids. Are they all yours?” He looked at each one as if he were judging their value.
Clenching my fists, I bristled. “Yep. All of them.” That wasn’t the first time I’d heard that question. He was already on my annoyance list. Did I tell him that? If he didn’t stop looking at all of them, he’d get my fist in his mouth.
Mom continued smiling. “I heard you and Debra knew each other.” I blinked and glanced at her. The abrupt question came out of nowhere, but she was just as protective of the kids as I was. As Don’s startled gaze moved back to us, I could see the value in a tactless attack. Afterward, I’d have to thank her for that.
Don smirked, taking a bite of his ice cream. “Used to. We dated in high school. Her husband didn’t like finding out I was in the group. Oh, the sparks flew.” He shook his head and leaned to the side, resting his weight on his hip. “Debra even tried getting me out of the group, multiple times, because he was so mad. I think he was upset about her past catching up to them.” He smugly checked his phone and moved his thumb over the screen like he did it frequently.
I pretended to the be distracted with my children, but they didn’t want anything to do with me while they had their ice cream. Even David didn’t care as he stared out the window at a bug crawling up the tinted glass. I spoke like I was distracted, almost with a half-interested tone. “Are you going to her funeral? I got the text that it’s tomorrow.” I wasn’t sure what to do with the kids. I might take them with me. They handled a few hours of church every Sunday. They could handle being quiet for an hour in a funeral gathering. Did Don know we suspected him in her death?
Don lowered his ice cream, staring at me and then moving his gaze to study my mom. “Dead? What are you talking about? She can’t be.” He blinked, jutting his jaw to the side. “I had no idea.” His voice faded as he lowered his gaze to the table.
I couldn’t help but feel bad for the expression of disbelief and shock that crossed his face. That was genuine disillusionment. The man might be questionable, but that look of surprise was completely genuine.
“What happened?” He jerked his gaze up, like we had any more answers than he did.
“We’re hoping you can tell us.” My mom stared him down, not playing on any level. She had a mission and she wasn’t backing down.
Confusion replaced his shock and grief and then that morphed into amusement as he smothered his attachment to the dead woman. “Ah, I see. You think I had something to do with it. Well, sorry, I wasn’t in town that morning. I was on the coast. I even have my room ticket.” He grinned, leaning back and folding his arms.
He’d been on the coast? That seemed unbelievable. “Can we see your ticket?” I had the audacity to ask because he seemed so amenable already. He might want to tell us. Maybe he wanted more information about Debra.
“You’re not the cops, sweetheart. If the pigs come my way, I’ll deal with them. I’ll see you at the meeting.” He stood, reclaiming his stance above us. He studied the ice cream David had given me. I slowly worked on it, careful to take it slow and make it last. “Are you tracking that ice cream?” It wasn’t any of his business and he knew it. The challenge in his lifted eyebrow wasn�
�t worth mentioning.
Instead, I glared at his retreating back.
As genuinely shocked as he’d been at the news of her death, he obviously hid something. Something wasn’t adding up and I couldn’t control my frustration that we didn’t know what was missing.
I had to figure out what, not just to help Nikki, but to satisfy my curiosity. I didn’t want to be in a diet group as it was – add to that the fact that there could be a killer on the membership roster and I seriously considered revoking my active status.
Making sure would have to take priority. I couldn’t cancel without a really good excuse.
Part of me hoped it was Don. Then I could leave and not have to worry about anyone eyeing what I ate and telling me to track it.
Mom pointedly ignored the ice cream in my hand. “I’m not sure I believe him.”
“He’s a jerk, Mom, but I’m not sure I don’t believe him. I mean, we can’t call his bluff on where he was. We don’t have that right. At the same time, he was very convincingly surprised, you know?” I didn’t like the guy, and even as much as I needed him to be guilty, I had to point out the obvious clues.
“He’s hiding something.” She stared at the door where he’d disappeared.
“Yeah, I agree on that point.” But what was he hiding? I licked the ice cream cone and winced as Andrew threw away his half-eaten cone.
I had to have willpower. I could do it. Maybe coming for ice cream hadn’t been the best idea.
11
Mom and I weren’t completely convinced Don was innocent. He might not have killed Debra – his alibi had holes in it, but he’d been surprised – but he was up to something, I just didn’t know what. A huge part of me wondered if I actually wanted to know.
My mom and I parted ways and the kids and I returned home. We had chores that needed to get done before it was time to get dinner and I wasn’t sure I wanted them cleaning the chicken coop without proper daylight.
We lived out in the woods. Not the woods that people think of where there are houses stacked side by side and a few trees. No, we lived in a legitimate forest with more trees than houses. We couldn’t see our neighbors and the many pine needles helped block the noises of my children.
As we drove in the drive, I reminded the kids what we all had to do. Everyone answered with a resounding “Yes, Mom”. I wasn’t sure where they’d learned that, but I’d take it over unh or yeah.
Everyone piled out of the dark SUV and ran around to get their things finished. I’d promised them a movie that night with popcorn, if they got things done and I didn’t have to hound them. Even four-year-old Ryder and five-year-old David had jobs to do. Ryder would gather the eggs and David would carry out an armful of straw for the nesting buckets.
I had my own jobs and we all split into our different regions. While they did the coop, I could watch from the I had a load of strawberry jam to make from the previous summer’s strawberry crop I’d frozen from my Grandma’s berries. If I didn’t get those done, I would never get them done. The next batch of berries I got from her wouldn’t have a place to be stored.
I ignored my tracker journal for a bit. I honestly didn’t care. Watching the kids eat the ice cream and enjoy a simple thing without any guilt on what it was doing to their waist or hips was depressing.
Don’t get me wrong. I’m grateful they don’t know what it’s like to have a negative body image, but I envied that. Like why couldn’t I be happy at a size twenty-two? Because that wasn’t where I felt good. I wasn’t the type to wear more than jeans and a t-shirt, but I wanted to run around with the kids and climb the stairs without feeling like I was dying.
But to be fair, I didn’t like anything about being so heavy.
How did I get around it though? It had nothing to do with what other people thought of me. No. It had everything to do with how I saw myself in the mirror. I didn’t like what I saw.
To be fair, I didn’t like myself when I was a size 8 and the perfect measurements of 36-24-36. I’ve never been happy with myself. I remembered calling myself fat when I weighed 112 pounds and a twenty-two-inch waist.
Since having babies, I even stopped doing anything with how I look. I wear t-shirts that are too big for me to cover my weight and loose jeans. My long brown hair is usually pulled back into a messy bun – and not the ones where the girl looks adorable, but more like I’m hiding a family of rats on top of my head.
Combine that with graying hair at my temples with the tired shadows under my eyes and I looked older than I was and felt older than I looked.
I was a mess. A big ole not-so-hot mess.
Pouring the second batch of processed strawberries from my food processor into the large stainless-steel pot on top of the stove, I winced as I dumped cup after cup of sugar into the bright red batch.
The strawberries had been sitting since the night before to thaw completely before I ran them through the blade to mash them completely. I turned the heat up to med-high and stepped back, checking to make sure I had enough quart and pint jars to batch up that much. Next, I’d add the pectin and then start canning.
“Mom! Mom!” Brad, my oldest at thirteen, rushed through the slider. “Buffy is gone!”
I stepped away from the counter and stared at him. Was it a sign of how terrible I was as a mother that I had no idea initially who he was talking about? Was Buffy a nickname for one of the other kids? I couldn’t remember.
He must have seen my blank expression because he closed the slider door and approached me, motioning toward the chicken pen we had out in the backyard. “Buffy, the Buff Orpington? She’s gone.”
I was still drawing a blank. A buff… Realization dawned on me. “Oh, Buffy? Oh, no. Do you have any idea what happened?” We had sixteen chickens at any given time and fifteen of them were females. My kids named them with boy names or names that were just too crazy for words. One of them was called Larry. I had no idea why, I just went with it.
“Andrew said he saw hawks earlier this week, but you know how he says whatever he wants.” Brad’s shoulders were slumped forward. My oldest was one who definitely got the expressive traits from me. I would never be good at poker. I couldn’t contain my feelings from my face and neither could he. I rounded the counter and wrapped my arm around his shoulder. “It’s okay. We’ll keep an eye for her. If there was a hawk, we’ll tell Dad when he gets home and he can watch for it, okay?” I wasn’t going to recommend the boys get their guns out and protect the chickens. Hawks were illegal to shoot and I didn’t want to start that.
The front door opened. I wiped my hands on the towel and called over my shoulder. “I told you guys to stop coming in the front. Do I need to lock it now?”
“I hope not.” Aaron walked around the corner, a grin amidst his dark brown stubble. He rarely had time to shave when he was out working and it was a favorite of mine to see him with the facial scruff.
“Aaron!” I yelled, dropping the towel on the counter and rushing into his arms.
“Dad!” Brad threw himself into Aaron’s extended arm that wasn’t wrapped around me and pulled us both in close. After a moment, Brad broke free and ran out the door. “Dad’s home!”
A wide grin in place, Aaron walked with his arm around my shoulders to the slider. He leaned down and kissed my forehead. “Hey, kid. I got off early with a bonus and they don’t want us in for two weeks.” He knew I would ask.
“Wow, really? That’s great.” We’d paid off the house a while ago and we could afford for Aaron to take a part time job doing what he did. We were fortunate enough that his current employer didn’t need Aaron’s services more than a couple weeks a month at the most.
“Oh, I forgot. I grabbed the mail.” He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a packet of envelopes and cards. He handed them over to me and leaned his chin on the top of my head.
“Joy.” Nothing good ever came in the mail anymore. Between political pamphlets, ads, and bills, I was always torn between adult responsibilities and burning th
em all.
Aaron dropped his arm from my shoulders and stepped toward the slider.
All six kids thundered across the grass, taking the porch by storm. Loud bangs and thuds filled the house as they ripped off their shoes and queued up at the slider to get through, yelling Dad at the top of their lungs.
As they reunited, I backed up, letting them have their time with their dad. Flipping aimlessly through the envelopes and ads, I stopped at the sight of a small three-inch by five-inch picture of a cliff view of the ocean.
Castaways by the Sea, Port Orford, Oregon was emblazoned on the upper right-hand corner of the card in a white-branded logo.
Did I know someone in Oregon? I flipped the card over, reading the slanted script I hadn’t seen in a long time.
Bon,
The water is colder here than it looks, but I saw a whale.
They don’t abandon their families and they don’t kick their family members out.
K.
I raised my free hand to my neck, clenching at the skin as I stared at the card. Aunt Kiki. Why was she reaching out to me? It had been three years and sometimes felt longer. Other times I felt like I could call her up and ask for her to whip up a batch of her famous No Bake cookies that I loved so much. Absently I wondered how many calories would be in one of those things.
Who did I tell about the card? I didn’t even want to tell Aaron what I held in my hand. I honestly didn’t even know that I understood what it was.
What did Aunt Kiki want? Was there a hidden message I wasn’t picking up? I mean, she was lecturing me passive-aggressively obviously, but what else was she trying to say? Why me?