Second Thoughts

by O'Keefe, Bobbie

  She just looked at him. Abbie bounced in her chair, up and down and sideways, as if searching for the best way to tip it over.

  “Tuna sandwiches,” Derek coaxed, a familiar light in his eyes that drew her toward him, yet at the same time warned her to keep her distance. “The way you like them, with lots of chopped pickle. Come on, Connie, it can’t be too hard to pack up you and the twins.”

  At that she broke into a hearty laugh, thinking of all the gear that went along with the two children.

  His answering grin was on the sheepish side. “Okay, so there’s a lot of stuff. But we can do it, and there’s plenty of room in the mini van. You’ve been here long enough that you’re bound to catch cabin fever soon, if you haven’t already. You need the break.”

  “Well,” she said dubiously. Although that note of caution was hanging in there, she was tempted. In fact, she was already composing a mental list of supplies and gear for the day. He must be right; she needed the break.

  She looked at Andy, who was trying to eat the washcloth, then back at Derek. “You do understand, of course, that neither of the twins has the slightest idea of how to fish.”

  “That’s my girl.” His perfect teeth flashed in a fast smile. “I’ll toss in free fishing instructions—if you’ll get them dressed.” He took a few quick steps away. “I’ll get the rest of their gear. Chris can help. He knows what they need.”

  At the garage door, Derek turned back long enough to give Connie a critical look. “And when you’re through with them, look for something pretty to dress yourself in. Maybe you could find something that actually fits?”

  “You’re pushing it, Derek.”

  He showed her his back. A brief moment later his voice traveled to her from the garage. “Nothing you could come up with will ever beat that coat of bubbles.”

  Chapter Seven“I can do it,” Petey pleaded as he stood outside the mini market. “I know I can. Just give me a chance.”

  Max’s heart filled with misgivings. He hated that Petey was asking for this, a chance to prove he could wield a gun, even an unloaded one, in a holdup. He was grateful their parents hadn’t lived to see this. But if either parent still lived, it was doubtful the brothers would’ve come to this.

  He looked at Moose, who simply shrugged. “It’s your call,” the big man said.

  Reluctantly, Max nodded at Petey. He pulled the third gun out of the plastic grocery bag that held their weapons and stockings and handed it over along with a nylon mask. “Go for it.”

  Petey bounded for the store. Max caught his arm. “The stocking, Petey. The stocking.”

  “Oh. Yeah.” He stretched it out and pulled it on over his head. His brother and Moose followed suit. Each mask now had a tear in it. Petey’s was horizontal, running from his left ear to the right corner of his mouth. Max felt torn fibers stretching across his nose and had no idea what he looked like; nor did he care.

  The three men stood at the side of the store, between their borrowed car and a dumpster that shielded them from the street. Something smelled rotten inside the dumpster. They wore short-sleeved, button-down shirts today; if not for the masks, they would’ve looked like a group of friends casually getting together for lunch. Moose’s shirt was solid blue with a straight-cut hem, worn loose over khakis so that the gun was hidden inside the waistband of his pants. Black checks for Petey, and he’d tucked his shirt inside his cords; no one was concerned where he’d put his gun because no one thought he’d have one. Max also wore his plain white shirt tucked inside his jeans, with the familiar jean jacket over it to conceal his weapon. He suspected the light coat had become his trademark. As serviceable as it was, he was going to have to get rid of it once their adventures came to an end. And he fervently hoped that was going to be sooner rather than later.

  Today’s vehicle was a light-yellow VW, and the lot was empty except for the bubble buggy, as Petey called it. Max had almost called today’s outing off because it had taken close to an hour to find transportation. People were getting stingy with spare keys.

  He held on to Petey’s arm while he scanned the area, and when he saw no one he released him. He hoped their luck would hold, and they’d again find no one but the clerk inside the store.

  It was a different counter person this time, and there was no one but the clerk, yet Max’s heart sank even further. They’d scared the…you-know-what…out of the last guy, and he’d been a medium-sized, hearty-looking male. This one was shorter, lighter, and female. Max would have backed out, but she’d already seen them.

  She was African American, solidly built but not overweight, and her thick black hair was severely swept back into a ponytail. She wore a sleeveless red sweater over jeans, and gold hoops dangled at her ears. She wasn’t the prettiest woman Max had ever seen. Yet there was something about her, a regal bearing maybe, that would make her stand out in a crowd.

  Petey wasn’t affected by the clerk’s gender, if he’d even noticed. He went to the counter. “I want your money. Give it to me.”

  She looked at him, at the two men who’d remained at the door, then back at Petey. As she turned her head, light from the overhead fixtures reflected off her earrings. “No,” she said.

  Max’s eyes narrowed. Moose fidgeted.

  “No?” Petey echoed.

  “No.”

  Petey appeared to think about that for a second, then he said, “Okay.” He put his gun on the counter and turned to leave.

  Max dove for the weapon and reached it a split second after the woman got her hand on it. As nervy as she was, her surprise had slowed her down.

  Max came up with it and banged it sharply on the counter. Remaining in the slightly bent position that he’d assumed when going for the gun, he pointed the weapon at her with his right hand, and the forefinger of his left hand pointed at the register. He said nothing and neither did she. Slowly he straightened, holding her gaze. The gun was rock steady. The hand pointing at the register jerked once in emphasis.

  She waited the space of three long seconds before breaking eye contact. She opened the register, removed some bills, hesitated, then took the rest of the money and handed all of it over.

  Wordlessly, Moose appeared at Max’s side. Max handed over the bills and motioned for the woman to step out from behind the counter. He figured there had to be an alarm button back there with the cash register, and he didn’t want her hitting it before he even got out the door. She stayed put, her coal-black eyes steady as she stared back at him. He drew in a breath, used it to make himself taller, and pointed to the floor where he wanted her to stand. Finally, her gaze still unwavering—but he was relieved to note some wariness in her eyes along with the defiance—she rounded the corner of the counter.

  He risked a look behind him. Moose and Petey were gone. With two fingers of his left hand, and the first easy breath he’d taken since he’d entered the place, he saluted the woman. Then he dashed out of there as fast as an Olympic sprinter headed for the finish line.

  Chapter Eight“I don’t believe this kid,” Derek said as he caught Abbie and hoisted her up. “Every time I turn around, she’s got another mouthful of dirt.”

  Connie hoped her brief sense of guilt didn’t show in her smile. Though she hadn’t known what the difficulty would be, she’d anticipated problems with Abbie, so had maneuvered to get Andy and leave his sister in her ex-husband’s care. Her baby was quite happy playing patty cake and building mounds of gravel and sand. He wasn’t interested in new culinary delights, trying to drown himself, or forging new trails in the wilderness.

  “Ouch!”

  “Careful,” Connie warned. “She might decide you taste good, too. First thing Kristy told me was that they have teeth now. Might as well let her have the dirt, if she’s already got it.” As soon as the last sentence was out of her mouth, she wondered what Abbie’s mother would’ve thought of it.

  “She’s got it,” Derek said tiredly, “and she won’t give it up. Let’s hope she didn’t get anything else in that
last handful besides dirt.”

  He’d chosen an excellent spot for their picnic. A wide bend in the stream gave them ample shore and playing space. Sun shone through the leafy shade, creating a dappling effect on the blue-green water as it glided by, and constantly changing shadows played over the pebbly shore. Although they’d passed numerous parked vehicles on their way here, no other people had joined them on their piece of land.

  The two fishermen had caught nothing, mostly because the younger one had quickly discovered he didn’t like fishing. Chris kept falling in the water, losing his grip on the pole and then having to traipse after it. He’d eventually taken a short nap with the twins, possibly out of boredom as much as an affect of all that fresh air. Presently he was munching potato chips and skimming pebbles along the water. He was good at both, and it appeared he was enjoying himself more now than he had all day.

  “Want to trade kids?” Derek asked hopefully.

  Without turning to face him, and feeling more smug now than guilty, she grinned. “No, thanks.”

  She sat in the sun, enjoying its warmth on her shoulders and back. A slight, cooling breeze made the day’s weather as perfect as the spot they’d chosen. She wore a forest-green tank top with braided spaghetti straps over each shoulder, cuffed denim shorts and white sneakers. Her clothes fit without being snug, but exposed more skin than Derek had seen since she’d stood up in the bathtub in all her splendor. He’d made no comment about her outfit, although she’d caught him eyeing her a few times.

  “About ready to pack it in?” he asked.

  She looked his way. “That bad, huh.”

  He grinned back and came to sit beside her, securing Abbie in his lap. He tried to interest the baby in a squeeze toy, but she ignored it and played with his hand. “Nah,” he said easily. “I could always put her back in the playpen. But there’s no sense in pushing our luck. What do you think?”

  “Sure. It’s time,” she said, but didn’t move. She was surprised at how comfortable she was. It’d been a long time since she’d spent a day with Derek. But, in truth, they’d been too busy with the kids to interact with each other and had mutually foregone trading barbs. They’d actually worked together.

  “I enjoyed today, Derek. Thanks.”

  “Yeah, it was fun. I’m glad you came with us.”

  As their gazes held, ambivalence grew, possibly within both of them. It looked like a kiss might be in her near future, and she wasn’t fighting it. Her common sense told her to get up and get out of there and start moving right now. But the other half of her wanted to sit right there, meet that kiss, and return it.

  Abbie ducked her head and bit Derek’s thumb. He yelped, jerked his hand away and examined it. “She broke the skin.” His voice held disbelief.

  Connie laughed. Thanking her lucky stars, and Abbie’s timing, she got to her feet. She put Andy in the playpen and reached to rescue Abbie from her victim. “They need changing, inside and out. She goes first because she’s in worse shape. You and Chris can pack up.”

  * * *

  A police cruiser with lights flashing came up fast behind the Mustang. Moose and Max muttered the same expletive, voices in guttural harmony. The game was over. That gutsy clerk must’ve followed them from the store in her own car, watched them exit the VW in the hospital’s underground parking lot and then climb into the Mustang.

  Moose slowed and pulled over, hands shaky on the wheel. Fear and self-loathing filled Max. His mind worked furiously, but he could find no way around capture and its consequences. The risk to him was one thing, but the risk to Petey and Moose was unpardonable.

  The cruiser flew by. The two men stared after it.

  Moose leaned forward and rested his forehead against the steering wheel. Max laid his head back and trailed both hands from forehead to neck. His breathing was shallow. Neither man spoke.

  “Uh, guys?” Petey said from the back seat.

  “Yeah,” Moose said. His voice was hoarse. He looked at the steering wheel, the ignition and the gearshift, and finally figured out how to get the car back into motion.

  * * *

  Derek reached over and punched the volume on the van’s radio up a notch.

  “…third time in as many days. There are as yet no leads. The gang of three has been incredibly lucky. An interesting development from today’s holdup is that one of the men is not as hardcore as his comrades. He actually handed over his gun to the clerk, but—”

  “Huh?” Connie said, and Derek shushed her.

  “…made their escape. More in a few minutes, after this important message. Please stay with us.”

  Derek frowned, but not at the radio. The van was slowing, and Connie gave him a questioning look. A fast talker on the airwaves was trying to convince her to visit his automotive shop, and she reached across the console to lower the volume. Derek pumped the accelerator, squinted at the fuel gauge, and worked the accelerator again. The vehicle continued to slow and sputter.

  “If I didn’t know better, I’d swear we were out of gas,” he said. The sputtering ceased, the van rolled another couple feet, then came to a stop.

  “We are out of gas.” His frown deepened as he looked at the fuel gauge, which read half full. He tapped it with his knuckle.

  The gauge dropped so fast that Connie blinked. “Huh?”

  “Yep. Out of gas. Great.”

  Connie looked at the empty road. Her concern rose and her heart sank. “Oh, boy,” she murmured. More expressive phrases occurred to her, but they weren’t fit for the kids’ ears.

  Derek appeared more annoyed than alarmed. With his gaze still on the faulty fuel gauge, he muttered, “Could be worse. How did we manage in situations like this before cell phones?”

  He looked at Connie, as if expecting her to produce one out of thin air.

  She looked back at him. “Cell phone? I don’t have one. You know I never wanted one.”

  His brows met. “You still don’t—”

  “Yes, I still manage quite well without a phone attached to my ear, thank you.”

  “It’s not a question of—”

  “I was wondering how this was going to be my fault that the vehicle you were driving ran out of gas. It’s because I don’t have a cell phone. Makes perfect sense. Where’s your phone, Derek?”

  “As far as this week goes, I’m out of touch, and the only way to truly accomplish that is don’t carry the phone around. So I left it in my car. I don’t wear it attached to my ear, either, thank you.”

  “It’s in the car you’re not driving instead of the one you are driving.” She nodded soberly. “Makes perfect sense.”

  “Annie Connie.”

  “Just a second, Chris,” Derek answered, his eyes not leaving those of his ex-wife. “This is Kristy’s van,” he said with what sounded like forced patience. “And unlike you, she realizes the importance of a cell phone in case of emergency. There should be one right there in the glove compartment.”

  Oh, Connie thought. She looked at the glove box but made no move toward it.

  “Annie Connie, don’t you remember? You took it in the house to see how it worked. Did you put it back?”

  Thank you, Chris, she thought. Thank you very much.

  Derek continued to look at her, she continued to look at the glove box, and then he faced front and stared out the window. “Great.”

  Connie sat quietly. As her mind searched for a way to redeem herself, she recalled the sights on their drive to the stream this morning. “Maybe it’s not too bad,” she ventured.

  Derek looked at her, at the kids seated behind them, then back at her. “It isn’t?”

  “We passed a house this morning, maybe only half a mile or so from here. An old green pickup was parked in front. We can ask to use their phone.”

  Taking another look at the back seat, Derek nodded. “Worth a shot. Okay, we each take a baby on our shoulders, and Chris can take the diaper bag, just in case.”

  “Wouldn’t it be better for you to hike i
t, and we’ll wait here? That’d be faster.”

  “And leave you and the kids out here alone with three holdup artists running around somewhere?”

  Whether it was innocent or not, that statement held sexism, and the implication that he was more capable than she definitely wasn’t innocent. She didn’t try to hide her annoyance in the stare she leveled at him. “Don’t look now, but a streak of macho just showed up.” She glanced at Christopher, not wanting to alarm him, but he appeared more interested than alarmed. The darned kid seemed to be enjoying himself. Abbie was humming monotonously, probably on her way to sleep. Andy was jabbering at whatever was outside the window, waving his arms as if conducting an orchestra.

  She looked back at Derek. “Not to put you down,” she said, her tone proving women could be just as condescending as men when the opportunity arose. “But how much more effective would you be than me against three armed men? One’s wit would count for more than one’s muscle power, wouldn’t you think?”

  He gave her a long, equally critical stare, and then opened his car door. “Choose your baby, put him or her on your shoulders, and let’s get going.”

  * * *

  Max wondered if his heart would ever stop racing. He was glad he wasn’t driving because he’d probably run them into a ditch.

  Moose wasn’t doing a whole lot better. The Mustang unsteadily approached the farmhouse and then jerked to a stop. Everyone remained inside the car, staring straight ahead. Even Petey seemed subdued. The man behind the steering wheel was the first to show life. With a shaky forefinger, he pointed at the plastic bag in Max’s lap that contained guns, stockings and money. “Might be our best take yet, and definitely the riskiest. But do you believe that woman? She had balls.”

  “Yeah, she was something, all right.” Max eyed the bag, resisting the urge to fling it away. He couldn’t rid himself of the feeling that something in it was going to pop out and bite him. “She took five years off my life, and then that cop who passed us took another five. I’m going to die a young man.”