Suddenly Riley felt like a fraud sitting here, presenting herself as the would-be savior, the perfect catch, the one that got away. She’d asked Fiona to be truthful about her marriage and current situation; meanwhile Fiona had no idea she was sitting here staring into the eyes of a freak of nature—a voyeuristic lycanthrope who’d been slinking around the farmhouse at night, peeking in her windows, listening to her conversations, intruding on her private life.
“Riley?”
“Sorry…I was just thinking.”
Fiona glanced at her watch. “Edy should be done with Dr. Spencer by now.”
As soon as Fiona mentioned Dr. Spencer, worry washed over her face, and she put her head in her hands again. “I’m so ashamed she saw us kissing, Riley. I don’t think I’ll be able to look her in the eye. I feel like she’ll judge me now.”
“Peggy is the most unconditional, nonjudgmental person I’ve ever met.” Riley rose, scooped up Luna, who now lay stretched out along Fiona’s side, and sat beside her. “Do you remember that song, “What It’s Like,” by Everlast?”
“I’m not sure.” Fiona raised her brow. “Maybe if I heard it…why?”
“It’s Peggy’s anthem. She finds it humbling, spiritually uplifting, and thinks everybody should listen to it at least once a week to keep themselves from judging others.”
“Well, I sure hope she’s listening to it right now.”
“Me, too…for my sake, not yours.” Riley smiled, trying to lighten the mood. “Can I ask if Jim is home now?” she asked, although she already knew he was out of town.”
“He’s delivering a load in Maryland. He’ll be back late tomorrow night.”
“Hm.” Riley hesitated, trying to decide whether to ask the one question she had no business asking. “Are you free tomorrow afternoon for a couple of hours? I was thinking of taking out the kayak.”
“Yeah? Edy and I go out in an old canoe we have.”
“Well, I have two sit-on-top kayaks. They’re both tandem, so you and Edy could share one.”
Fiona’s eyes lit up like they used to when she was sixteen. But then the light faded.
“I take it Jim doesn’t like you socializing.” That’s how severe narcissists operated. They’d have you believing you’d met the person of your dreams, but once they had you, the mask came off. They started cutting you off from friends, removing your support systems, isolating and keeping you all to themselves.
“No, he doesn’t. It would be fun though. And he wouldn’t know.”
“It’d be like old times…we can explore the backwater…look for wildlife.”
“Edy would love that. So would I.” Fiona thought for a moment and then said, “What time?”
“I have clients from eight until one. I could come by and pick you up around, say, two?”
“You’re sure you know where the house is?”
“Pretty sure. If it’s not the house I’m thinking of, I’ll call you. In fact, give me your number so I don’t have to get it from Miriam.” Riley stood up and retrieved her cell phone. “You should put my private number in your phone, too. In case you need to reach me outside the office.”
“Write it on paper for me. Jim checks my phone.”
What a controlling bastard. Riley conceded, jotted her number on the back of a business card, and handed it to Fiona at the door. “I never got to give you that hug.”
“I know. You got sidetracked.”
“I did. I apologize for that kiss.”
“Don’t. It was the high point of the last twenty years of my life.”
“Ditto.” Riley smiled tenderly, pulling her into a tight hug that spread through her and enveloped her soul. Riley held on until she thought she might kiss her again, then quickly let go.
* * *
Peggy leaned back in her office chair, legs crossed, agitated fingers tapping her thigh. Sun filtered through the windows, highlighting the reproach in her glaring green eyes. It felt like they were having a staring contest, and when Riley couldn’t handle the intensity anymore, she broke the silence. “Just say it,” she said.
“Have you lost your fucking mind?” Peggy blurted, her natural reticence gone for the moment.
“Uh…that would be a yes,” she said with an edge of sarcasm. “Let’s see…Fiona came back into my life one week ago. That’s seven days…times twenty-four hours…which would be what…” Riley held her hand up, making an exaggerated display of counting on her fingers. “About one hundred and sixty-eight hours ago that I lost my mind. Thank you for taking notice.”
“What the hell were you planning to do in there?”
“It was just a kiss, Peg.”
“A kiss? You were making out, climbing on top of the poor woman, for Christ’s sake. What on earth were you thinking?”
“I wasn’t.”
“I’m very disappointed. This kind of behavior was highly inappropriate.”
Riley rolled her eyes. “Aren’t you supposed to finish that sentence with young lady?”
“What?”
“Since you’re reprimanding me like a child, shouldn’t you say, ‘That was highly inappropriate, young lady?’”
“This isn’t a joke, Riley. What you did was terribly unprofessional. You broke all the rules. And let me ask you this,” she said, uncrossing her legs and folding her hands on her desk. “Where have you been all week?”
Peggy’s face was smug, like that of a cross-examining attorney. “What do you mean?”
“Why haven’t we seen you outside of work? If you’ve been feeling so out of sorts, why haven’t you been over to the house to talk to me and Barb about it? You know we’re here for you.”
“I don’t have an answer, Peg. I just needed to be alone.”
“Oh…so then you wouldn’t know anything about the friendly coyote that’s been passing by Edy’s window at night?”
“Really?” Riley widened her eyes to emphasize a look of surprise. “Wow.”
“Yeah. Wow is right. She says it listens to her talk and understands her problems. If she were seven years old, I’d write it off as an imaginary friend—but she’s almost eleven!”
Riley scratched her head and looked away, hiding the guilt in her eyes and the fact that she wanted to cry. Peggy was always good at seeing right through her, and Riley was relieved when the phone rang.
Peggy answered, then hung up. “This conversation is to be continued. My next appointment is here.” She stood, frowning at Riley as she straightened her skirt. “I’m worried about you, Riley.”
“I’m worried, too.” Riley knew she should have said more about what Fiona had revealed about her marriage. But they were mandated reporters, and she knew Peggy would extend that information to the Barretts’ caseworker. It would only break Fiona’s trust and make the situation worse.
“Take my advice. Put yourself in check and stay away from Fiona. Do you hear me? And stay away from that house! God, Riley,” she said with a disappointed shake of her head. “I can’t believe you’ve been trespassing.”
Riley looked down, submissively soaking up the deserved reprimands as she moped to the door.
Peggy paused before she opened it. “If you’re thinking you can pick up where the two of you left off twenty years ago, you’re wrong. There’s no Fiona Bell any more. There’s only Fiona Barrett now, and I hate to think of what might happen if her psycho husband gets wind that his wife and you were lovers.”
If Riley had any earlier thoughts of telling Peggy about her plans for tomorrow, they quickly vanished. Peggy would go through the ceiling if she knew Riley was taking Jim Barrett’s wife and child kayaking. The last thing Riley needed right now was another scolding. She had enough on her mind.
Chapter Eight
It was just after two o’clock when Riley pulled up in her black Outback, two yellow kayaks secured to the roof rack. The screen door opened, and Fiona and Edy came out, both wearing T-shirts and long shorts. Edy jumped off the porch and ran to the car window, stopping short wh
en Riley rolled down the window. Her mouth opened and she stared at Riley. “I know who you are,” she said.
Riley swallowed uneasily but kept her smile, glad for the sunglasses that concealed the alarm in her eyes. They were, she knew, an unusual golden brown and didn’t look any different now than they did when she was in fur. “You do?”
“Yeah. You’re the therapist who works with Dr. Spencer. I met you that day with the worms. You don’t remember?”
Riley breathed a sigh of relief. “I certainly do. I was waiting to see if you remembered me first. But promise you won’t tell Dr. Spencer I was hanging out with you and your mom today,” she said, loud enough for Fiona to hear. “I’m sort of playing hooky from work. Dr. Spencer thinks I’m home with a stomachache. If she finds out I took off to go kayaking she’ll—”
“Fire you?”
“Exactly. So, this has to be our secret, okay?”
Edy grinned and looked back at her mother.
“Don’t worry,” Fiona said. “Edy and I have already had that conversation. She’s pretty reliable…you know, as far as kids go.” Fiona’s hair was down, and she tucked it coyly behind her ear and gestured with her head. “Come see the turtles.”
“Can I really?” The idea of seeing them after all these years delighted Riley. During her nocturnal investigations of the property the other night, she’d discovered a shallow pen about ten feet long, maybe six feet wide. It was made from wood and screen and looked like something Fiona might have built to contain them. At one end was a slatted board serving as a ramp to a kiddie pool, and at the other loomed a giant mound of sphagnum moss and leaf litter. She remembered the turtles dishing up moss with their heads and flipping the stuff over their backs so that only their faces were visible while they kept watch on the world. Riley had excitedly sniffed around the perimeter of the enclosure, disappointed when she realized their scent was hours old and that Fiona had probably taken them inside for the night. “I’d love to see them,” she said.
Fiona gestured with her head. “Then come on. They’re out back.”
Riley cut the ignition and got out, reminding herself to pretend she’d never been here before, which was kind of hard considering that over the past week she’d come to know the layout of this land better than they did. “Should I walk around?” she asked.
“No. Come through the house. I want to show you something.”
Riley hadn’t expected to be invited into the house. She suspected that Jim Barrett wouldn’t want company coming in his absence.
Fiona went back inside, and Edy walked with Riley, swinging her arms happily at her side. “My mom told me you two used to be friends,” she said, seeming so overjoyed by the company that every few steps she skipped. “How old were the turtles when you met them?”
“Really little. They’d just been born.”
“You mean hatched.”
Riley laughed at the correction. “Hatched. Right. They were hatchlings. Maybe…oh, I don’t know…this big,” Riley said, making a circle with her fingers as they walked to the porch. “Maybe two, three inches. And then by the next summer they doubled in size.”
“Nature makes turtles grow super-fast, because when they’re tiny they get eaten.”
“Hmm…that makes a lot of sense.”
“Well, wait ‘til you see them now!” Letting go of Riley’s hand she rushed ahead, running up the steps of the planked porch with its peeling paint to hold the screen door open for Riley.
Fiona had done a decent job of cleaning up the inside. Riley glanced at the familiar living room and Jim’s easy chair, raising her lip in a snarl as Edy led her to the kitchen.
In her haste to get home and get the kayaks mounted, Riley had forfeited lunch. The wonderful smell of something baking made her stomach growl. Riley pushed her sunglasses to the top of her head and looked around. The white refrigerator was new, but all the other fixtures looked original, including the white porcelain stove with its six burners. Vintage appliances were back in style, Riley knew. People were paying good money for the old ones, and she’d even seen expensive reproductions for sale. The glass-door cabinets had been repainted, and above the deep farmhouse sink was a large window that looked out to the pasture. It was through the curtains of this window that Riley had seen Fiona doing dishes and being chastised, her shadowed figure visible only from the shoulders up.
Riley smoothed a hand over the white enamel of the stove. The surface was warm to the touch. “Nice stove,” she remarked as Fiona came out of a walk-in pantry carrying a plastic shoebox-size container.
“Isn’t it? The kitchen’s my favorite room. I’ve done the most work in here. And in Edy’s room. I really need to refinish these floors but…I just haven’t had the energy.”
Of course, she didn’t. Depression was a motivation-zapper. Fiona set the container on the kitchen table. The lid had holes, and she removed it to expose what looked like a dozen Ping-Pong balls, half buried in a mixture of soil and vermiculite.
“Ping-Pong balls?”
“Snapping-turtle eggs.”
“Really? Round like this?”
Edy slipped between Riley and her mother and looked in the container. “I’m the one who found them.”
“She did,” Fiona said. “In June after church one day.” She glanced at Riley. “Remember that waterfall you and I used to hike to?”
“How could I forget?”
“Well, Edy noticed them getting bounced around. A few were waterlogged, but these were floating. We thought they were Ping-Pong balls, too, since most eggs are oval.”
Riley touched one ever so lightly with a fingertip. It was soft and leathery. “What were they doing in the water?”
“I’m thinking raccoons unearthed a nest on a slope, and some rolled down. You know how much they love to dig up and eat turtle eggs.”
“Are they good?”
“Viable? Yep. We’ve candled them. They’re growing nicely.”
“Don’t you need an incubator?”
“Nope,” Edy said. “They’re not like bird eggs. Turtle mothers don’t sit on nests and keep them warm.”
Fiona nodded. “They develop at ambient temperatures. Anything between seventy and eighty-five degrees is fine. The eggs at the bottom of the nest stay cooler and produce males. The ones on top get more warmth from the sun and become females.”
“Huh! Boys are cool and the girls are hot. What happens when they hatch?”
“That won’t be until September. If it’s still warm enough, we’ll release them in a pond. If it’s too cold they’ll overwinter indoors, eat and grow and have a head start come spring.”
Riley watched her mist the eggs with a spray bottle before putting the lid on the box again and taking it back. “You don’t have to turn them either?”
“Nope. Turning them like bird eggs would kill the embryos,” Fiona answered from the pantry. Edy had disappeared, and Fiona patted a soft-sided cooler on the counter as she emerged. “This is coming with us. I was worried that maybe you’d rushed to get here and didn’t eat lunch.”
“You worried right.” Riley laughed. “I’m fine, though. Really.”
“No, you’re not. I hear your stomach growling.” Fiona looked at her with a soft smile. “I thought you’d enjoy a modest repast outdoors, so I baked us some bread.”
“Is that what smells so good in here?”
“Yep. I made sandwiches with fresh basil, mozzarella, and some nice tomatoes from the farm stand.”
“You’re making my mouth water.”
“You make my mouth water.”
If Edy weren’t around, Riley would have gladly forfeited the repast in that cooler for a repeat of yesterday’s kiss. She wanted desperately to taste Fiona’s lips again, although she was almost as desperate to get her hands on one of those sandwiches. Fiona’s thoughtfulness made her think of how nice it was to be cared for…to have someone to care about. She assumed that Mrs. Bell, who was fond of making bread and pies, had taught her daughter ho
w to bake over the years. The peaches on Riley’s trees were ripening, as they always did in late July, and she made a mental note to fill a bag for Fiona before the bears got to them, which was usually the case. Riley glanced at the cooler. “Thanks for thinking of me.”
Fiona raised a brow. “That’s all I’ve been doing,” she said in a low voice that Edy couldn’t hear, wherever she’d gone. They locked eyes for a moment, and then Fiona grabbed her hand and led her out the back door. “Let’s go see your old buddies.”
Riley watched as Fiona stepped into the pen and brushed away the mound of sphagnum moss covering the wood turtles, her jaw dropping open when she saw their size. They were enormous. Fiona picked one up with both hands and handed it over to her. “Gomez,” she said. “Ms. Gomez.”
“Wow…” Riley took the turtle and lowered herself to the grass, gripping the turtle between both hands and bringing it to her face as though she were about to take a bite out of that sandwich she wanted. “Gomez…hello, my old friend,” she said to the turtle. “I never expected to see you again.” Gomez cocked her head and looked at her sideways, the glint in those dark eyes seeming too intelligent for a reptile.
Fiona came over with the second turtle, and Riley spread her legs, placing Gomez between them and taking Morticia. “I can’t believe how smooth and black their shells got.” Their heads and legs had always been jet-black, with vivid lines of yellow, but as babies their shells had been more brown than black in the sunlight. “Rhinoclemmys funerea…” Riley mused.
“You actually remember their scientific name? I’m impressed,” Fiona said.
Edy ran out holding what looked to be an old photo album. “They’re called funerea because they’re all black,” she said. “Like the way people dress when they go to a funeral.”
“I know. That’s why your mom named them after the Addams Family.”
She plopped down on the grass beside Riley and opened the album.
Fiona shook her head at Edy. “Is that where you were, digging through my closet?”
“Uh-huh.” Edy nudged Riley’s shoulder to get her attention. “Look! Is this how big they were when you knew them?” She pointed to a photograph of Riley in her teens, holding a turtle in each hand. Seeing herself so young, the turtles so small, concretized the passage of time. It made her want to cry. There was another picture of her and Fiona at the farmers’ market where they’d sold Fiona’s stools, and one more of them standing arm in arm on the dock. The dock. The place where Riley’s life had taken an unbelievable turn for the worse.”
Coyote Blues Page 17