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by Bart Hopkins

  “Plus she was your teacher. The forbidden fruit,” Janice added thoughtfully.

  “I’m right here,” Jennifer said, and laughed.

  “That’s probably the ultimate dream for young boys, right? Daydreaming about—‘tutoring’—sessions after school that turn hot?” Janice was really getting into it now. It wasn’t a tactic, per se, but her aggressive style held a certain appeal for guys. She’d seen it when they were out.

  “Okay, Janice, still right here!” Jennifer knew she couldn’t hide the red that was surely moving up her cheeks now.

  “Oh, I need to take this,” Janice said, pulling a vibrating phone from her pocket and pushing it to her ear. “Mark, lovely to hear from you. Yes, of course we can do that…” she said, retreating through a doorway into what Jennifer knew was a kitchen from previous taste-testing adventures.

  “That’s pretty much accurate,” Paul conceded, and shrugged his shoulders. “Hey, it’s high school, a time of discovery. You can’t expect a bunch of high school guys to act like they don’t notice it when a beautiful woman is their English teacher.”

  She looked at him and he held her eyes for a moment longer than necessary. She felt the warmth in her cheeks spread to other areas of her body. Paul was good looking, and his body looked fit and hard beneath his suit. Muscular. He was comfortable in his skin, like a jungle cat warming itself on a rock in the sunshine.

  His mannerisms were calm and assured. He was being forward, but it didn’t make her uncomfortable. On the contrary, she found herself drawn to his confidence.

  “Is that so?” she asked. There was a ballpoint pen on the counter; she picked it up and twirled it in her fingers.

  “Very much so,” he told her and leaned in toward her. He stopped about a foot in front of her face, light from the windows dancing in his eyes. He breathed deeply and she had the impression he was actually trying to breathe her in. “You were—still are—a beautiful woman,” he said. Then, slowly, he leaned back onto his stool, and smiled at her. She was pretty sure her heart had moved from her chest to her throat.

  “You guys want some Crème Brulee?” Janice burst through the door carrying a small tray.

  Jennifer jumped at her friend’s grand entrance, and her hand twitched involuntarily. The pen skittered across the counter at Janice.

  Janice spun around in a 360, pen glancing off of her back and arm, before facing them.

  “Ah! What was that?” she screeched as she regained her balance.

  “A pen. Sorry. You startled me,” Jennifer apologized. “I don’t know what happened, it just sort of, like, flew out of my hand.” She snuck a sidelong glance at Paul who had his face pointed straight ahead, but she couldn’t help but notice the upward turn of the corner of his mouth. He looked like he was fighting off laughter, which made her snort.

  “Just flew out of your hand, oh-kay, girlfriend.” Janice said, and Jennifer laughed. Janice set her tray down, and in a practiced manner removed three fancy white bowls with a flourish. Each was filled nearly to the top, the contents topped with a glossy, pale brown layer of baked caramel.

  Jennifer’s mouth watered a little bit. “Wow, it looks completely delish.”

  “Heck yeah, looks delish, is delish.” She handed them each a spoon, and they all swooped in for the kill.

  Paul struck gold first, and grunted in appreciation, a primordial sound that seemed to emanate from somewhere deep within his body.

  In the span of only a second, Jennifer registered his obvious pleasure, and was already thinking of a flirty jibe to throw his way as she raised her spoon to her own mouth. That all changed as the dessert settled in her mouth, however, and a small moan escaped her; she completely forgot anything she was thinking about saying.

  “Oh my God, this is amazing,” she mumbled. She pushed her tongue slowly through the creamy material, crushing it to the roof of her mouth where she savored it until it disintegrated.

  “Where have you been all my life,” Paul added.

  Janice was the last one to try it. When she slid the spoon out of her mouth a few seconds later, she nodded, and agreed with them: “Fuck yeah.”

  Chapter 14

  Rose and Mary Beth

  Rose pulled into the La Quinta parking lot and shut off the engine. The mustardy yellow outer walls of the hotel seemed to move in the late afternoon heat, and she lost focus for a moment while a merry-go-round of thoughts cycled inside her brain.

  Was she doing the right thing? Impossible to tell. Who was the authority on right versus wrong in matters of the heart? The right thing for Rose wasn’t necessarily the right thing for someone else.

  The car ticked rhythmically as the engine cooled. Inside the vehicle, however, the temperature climbed rapidly, moving from a brisk, air conditioned chill, to a tepid lukewarm. Rose continued to stare ahead, lost in thought.

  Upon reflection, Rose had to admit to herself that what had been right for Rose in the past was almost always wrong for all those around her. She’d cornered the market on selfishness early in life, and abandoned her loved ones to chase drugs and alcohol and countless vices.

  Another minute passed and lukewarm surrendered to fully warm, inching toward hot. Several beads of perspiration appeared along Rose’s hairline, one of them rolling down her forehead and into her left eye.

  “Ouch,” she said softly. The salty sting brought her back to the present—the now—and ended her introspection.

  For the moment.

  Rose got the two smallish bags she’d brought from the trunk and went to the hotel’s reception desk.

  “Hello! Welcome to the Fredericksburg La Quinta, how may I help you?” the pert receptionist behind the counter greeted her.

  “Hello,” Rose replied. She rifled through her purse and produced her driver’s license and credit card and slid them across the counter. “I have a reservation for Rose Murray,” she told her, thankful to be out of the heat.

  “Of course, I’ll get you checked in right away,” the girl replied. She wore khaki shorts and a blue polo with the hotel chain’s logo. The name tag read ‘Mary.’

  Foreshadowing of some sort, she wondered?

  “Mary?”

  “Um, yes?” She looked startled that Rose had called her by name.

  “Sorry, I just saw your nametag. I have a daughter named Mary…” she said without thinking, then trailed off when she realized what she’d done.

  “Oh, neat! It’s a great name. Is she from around here?” Mary the Receptionist asked. She smiled brightly, exposing a slightly oversized set of pristine white teeth.

  “Um, no…”

  “Will she be visiting, too?” Mary the Receptionist plowed on, oblivious to Rose’s growing discomfort.

  “Err, no, she’s … no, she won’t be coming,” Rose stammered.

  “Aww, that’s too bad.”

  “Yes. Maybe next time, though,” Rose told her, regaining her composure. “What do you recommend for dinner around here, Mary?”

  “Hmm, let’s see, we have a list of local restaurants and shops in here,” she pushed a small brochure over to Rose. “Most people love the Cabernet Grill, they have steak and seafood … and there is Auslander, right on Main Street, if you like German food. Personally, I love German food! Mamacita’s is right over there, too, if you like Mexican food, then…”

  “German food?” Mary asked. “That sounds really good.”

  “It is,” Mary agreed. “My mouth is watering right now just thinking about it.”

  “Is it close?”

  “Five minute drive.”

  Mary the Receptionist handed her two of the little swipe-card room keys, her license, and credit card. Rose signed and slid the paperwork back.

  “Thanks, Mary.”

  Twenty minutes later she was looking at the Auslander’s menu. The restaurant was maybe a third full, which suited her well; she didn’t feel like seeing many people.

  She ordered something called Opa’s Sausage, with German potato salad. The
place was filled with heavenly aromas, which made the wait seem excruciating. She’d always been an enthusiastic eater. Would probably have been obese earlier in life, if she weren’t using. She used to gorge on food all the time.

  But addicts trend toward the thin side.

  These days she stayed slender because she worked a lot and watched her diet. However, she did let loose now and then, and when her food arrived at the table, she attacked it with something bordering religious zeal. Or like the addict she used to be, perhaps, during her darkest hours.

  While she ate, she considered her next move. She’d used her laptop and located Mary Beth’s address—or her husband’s address—one and the same, no doubt. She could drive over and check it out tonight.

  But…

  That didn’t seem like the wisest move. Families are together in the evening, gathered in the yard, or doing other things. Their house would be at peak human activity, which would increase the odds of being seen. And, a stranger lurking around at night, carried sinister connotations.

  She could just drive by…

  That she could do, though she wasn’t sure how wise that would be either. She didn’t know the neighborhoods or the streets. Still, it seemed reasonable. Probably wouldn’t have to get out of her car. Just roll right on by without stopping. Some minor stalking.

  Nothing too crazy.

  Her car was a seven-year-old blue Ford Taurus. It wasn’t invisible, but it was about as nondescript as any car could be, especially at night when it camouflaged with the grays brought about from the onset of dusk. If she caught someone’s attention, however, they might report it to the police, who could no doubt find her car quickly in a small town like Fredericksburg.

  She imagined that daytime would probably be both less suspicious and less noticeable. Most, if not all, of her daughter’s family would be gone … at work, at school, or elsewhere. She wouldn’t be the fish out of water that she already felt like.

  Of course, that would require waiting another night, and she wasn’t good at waiting. Not lately. Not concerning Mary Beth.

  When the battle between human and food was over, and the smoke had cleared, Rose discovered that someone had licked her plate clean. Or maybe she had. A forensic technician would have been hard pressed to find evidence—no crumb remained. She’d even ordered a corned beef and sauerkraut roll, which had mysteriously vanished. If there’s a restaurant in heaven, she surmised, they have the corned beef and sauerkraut roll on the menu.

  She was tempted to smoke a cigarette. Didn’t have any. Hadn’t had any for years and years. Decided to pay her bill and leave instead.

  Outside it was really starting to cool down—low eighties and dropping—so Rose opted to take a walk. She figured a peek around town might help her come to a decision: to stalk or not to stalk, that was the question.

  She turned right and started walking.

  The street was arranged like lots of small American towns in previous decades. Shops lined the sidewalks. Parking spaces ran the length of the street, angled to allow quick parking with the direction of traffic. There were four primary lanes with an emergency lane down the center of the road. The traffic was easygoing this time of day, much like the town, but it wasn’t sleepy by any stretch.

  Rose had arranged for two weeks off from work. She knew she could finagle another two weeks from Teeny without any questions. Sara and Melinda, however, were a different story. She couldn’t be gone that long without an explanation for her Amigas. After all, they had helped her brainstorm the logistics of the trip once she spilled the beans on it. They supported her one hundred percent.

  She passed a green wine shop with one of those tall, false fronts, like the Old West towns. Intrigued, she looked through the window into a long room with hardwood floors. Red couches and brown chairs peppered the open space. It looked like a comfortable place to share a glass of wine with friends, and perhaps fifteen people were doing just that.

  She continued down Main Street.

  The GPS was loaded up with what Rose hoped was Mary Beth’s address. Daylight was fading, the sky cast from hues of gray and orange and yellow behind the falling sun. Maybe, she thought, I can drive by her house just once tonight … as long as the GPS doesn’t lead me astray.

  She passed a little store that she knew her mom would have liked. It reminded her of Cracker Barrel, except there was no food, only wine and homemade gifts. There were metal stars, Texas flag barrels, and Lone Star benches. Through the open door she could see that homemade knick-knacks adorned the counters inside. The proprietor waved, and she returned it; Rose decided she’d have to come back before she left town.

  Why did the Rose cross the road? To get to the other side, she thought with a chuckle. When there was a break in the traffic, she made her way across.

  On the other side of Main Street she found a small museum, but she kept walking; it looked like it was strictly World War II, which didn’t pique her interest. She walked along and admired the storefronts again; the flat front facades extended five or ten feet higher than the buildings themselves.

  She was in front of a bar and grill when she made up her mind: she would do the drive-by. It brought flutters to her body, but eased her mind, to have made the decision, and she picked up her pace. She had purpose again.

  “Ryan, leave your sister alone…”

  “I didn’t do anything, Dad!”

  Rose looked up at the sound of children’s voices. There was a man with his back to her, motioning to two kids that were mostly obscured by a Chevy Suburban.

  “Ryan…”

  “No, Chelsea started it!” the boy pleaded with his father, emerging from behind the SUV just a step ahead of his sister.

  And for the first time, Rose saw her grandchildren in person.

  Her knees nearly buckled. The world seemed to intensify and overwhelm her senses. The periphery of her vision was blinding white, and her head felt swollen. Then, the white at the edges of her vision started turning into black static. I’m going to pass out, she thought grimly.

  But she held on to consciousness. Barely.

  She moved her head and scanned from side to side. There was no cover. No streetlamp to hide behind, no garbage can, no benches. Nothing stood between them.

  The passenger door of the Chevy opened.

  Mary Beth stepped down to the pavement in slow motion. Or it seemed that way. Rose froze in her tracks, the proverbial deer in the headlights, staring at her estranged family. There was nowhere to hide, and she geared herself up for the inevitable confrontation that would go down when Mary Beth looked over and saw her.

  Except she didn’t…

  Mary Beth Connor helped her husband gather their offspring. Their laughter came fast and fun, like excited people whipping by on a Disney roller coaster, as they found each other and disappeared into the nearby art gallery together.

  Rose realized she’d been holding her breath, and finally let it out with a long, shaky whoosh. Had there just been an earthquake? She was certain the earth under her feet had moved. She looked around, expecting to see people stumbling around, shaken up or something.

  But everything was normal.

  And no one was staring at her. She saw a young mother pushing one of those slender banana strollers, looking into a storefront window. An older couple was walking up behind her, apparently oblivious to the Rose Earthquake. She let them pass, exchanged a howdy.

  Tried to figure out her next move.

  She walked toward the art gallery, heart in her throat, and peeked through the window. There were smatterings of people inside, looking at paintings, some sipping at glasses of wine. Despite the building’s exterior, which matched most of the other buildings, it was modern and elegant inside.

  Then she saw them.

  Chelsea and Ryan continued to harass one another, albeit in subtle ways, as they stood a few feet behind their parents. She saw Ryan reach his hand around behind his sister and tap the opposite shoulder. He pulled his hand back quic
kly and looked the other way.

  A classic move.

  Chelsea looked behind her on the side her little brother had tapped her. Nobody was there. She immediately turned to Ryan, eyebrows drawn downward, lips pursed; fire and retaliation were in her eyes. Ryan was still facing the other way, a contrived look of innocence plastered across his face. Rose watched while Chelsea considered her play. She looked up at her mother, then back to Ryan, and made the safe move: she waited.

  Rose smiled, amused at her grandchildren.

  Mary Beth turned to Tom, eyes bright and clear, and swept her hand in front of the painting. She punctuated what she was saying with animated jabs of her forefinger. It was obvious she loved the artwork.

  Without warning, Mary Beth glanced back at her children, and gave them a quick, stern look. The sort of silent signal that leaves no more room for negotiation. Mary Beth finished with the kids and glanced up, toward the windows.

  Rose ducked quickly out of sight.

  She decided she’d pushed her luck enough for one night and walked back across the street to her car. Once she was inside, and the dome light had dimmed, she waited. An hour later, the Connor family departed.

  Rose went back to her hotel.

  Chapter 15

  Susan, Jason, and Danny

  Susan and Danny were waiting near the computer when they heard the familiar bloop bloop bloop of the Skype software. Danny practically leapt on the mouse.

  “Dad!”

  “Hey, buddy! What’s up?”

  “Oh, man, me and Mom have a surprise for you—it’s huge—you’re never gonna guess what it is,” Danny rattled to his father on full automatic. “Go ahead, take a guess.”

  His son’s rapid chatter made Jason smile.

  “It’s sure nice to hear your voice, Danny.”

  “Dad, come on, take a guess.”

  “Um, okay. Let me think. Are they going to skip you ahead to high school?”

  “Dad…”

  “You found out that you really like onions and you have mom making them every night for dinner?”