Yeast of Eden

by Sarah Fox

  “I know we decided I shouldn’t mention it, but I told him that I saw you, Ivan.” She closed her eyes briefly. “I’m sorry. He asked if I’d seen anyone and it just came out.”

  “Don’t worry,” he said.

  “But I realize now that it contradicts your statement. What if he thinks you lied?”

  “I’ll sort it out.”

  Before Lisa had a chance to say anything more, he was out the door. We moved to the front window and watched as he approached Ray by the cruiser parked at the curb.

  “I’ve messed things up, haven’t I?” Lisa said.

  “I don’t know about that. Ivan will explain, and hopefully that will be the end of it.”

  Outside, Ivan exchanged a few more words with Ray before heading back toward the house. We hurried to meet him in the foyer.

  “What did he say?” Lisa asked as soon as he’d stepped inside.

  “Not much.”

  “But he accepted your explanation?”

  “I think so.”

  Lisa’s shoulders lowered by an inch or two. “Maybe everything will be okay.”

  “Everything will be fine,” I assured her, hoping that was the truth.

  I wanted to question her about her conversation with Ray, and the people she knew of who had a grudge against Wally, but I sensed it would be best to give her some time alone with Ivan.

  “I need to get going, but call me any time, okay?” I said to Lisa.

  “Thanks, Marley.”

  “Bye, Ivan,” I said as Lisa walked me to the door. “And we definitely need to talk later,” I added in a whisper once I’d stepped out onto the front porch. “About you and Ivan.”

  Her cheeks took on a pink tinge and she smiled. “We will.”

  I mirrored her smile and headed down the steps as she shut the door.

  Ray hadn’t left yet. He stood outside his cruiser, speaking into his radio. When he saw me, he waved me over. My smile faded and my concern for Lisa made a comeback. I was afraid he was about to question me about my friend, that despite the impression he’d given Lisa, he really did consider her a suspect.

  “Marley, you know both Lisa and Ivan well.”

  “Yes,” I said slowly, wary of where the conversation might be heading.

  He glanced over my shoulder at Lisa’s house. “What’s the nature of their relationship?”

  “Their relationship?” I echoed, not knowing what else to say.

  “Ivan’s still in the house with her. I’m guessing they have a relationship of some sort.”

  “I’m assuming you mean a romantic one. And I’m not sure, but they’re at least heading in that direction. Why?”

  “How far do you think one would go to protect the other?”

  The frosty air seeped deep into my bones when he asked that question. “You think one of them is covering for the other?” I shook my head. “They’re not. Neither of them killed Wally.”

  Ray removed his hat and ran his hand through his hair. “I hope that’s the case.” He replaced his hat on his head and walked around the front of the cruiser to reach the driver’s door. “Marley, your interest in past investigations has put you in danger,” he said over the roof of the vehicle.

  I knew what was coming next.

  “Leave this one to me and my deputies, all right?”

  “I’m planning on it,” I said, and that was the truth.

  He climbed into the cruiser and I headed in the direction of my own car. Before I reached it, I noticed Lisa’s neighbor Joan Crenshaw walking along the street with her West Highland terrier, Angel. Instead of getting into my car, I remained on the sidewalk as she approached.

  “Hi, Marley,” Joan said as I crouched down to give Angel a pat. “Everything okay?”

  I followed her gaze to the sheriff’s cruiser. Ray sat in the driver’s seat now, but he hadn’t yet pulled away from the curb.

  “Lisa was out walking on Pacific Street last night, so the sheriff wanted to ask if she’d seen anyone hanging around the waffle house.”

  “Oh my, yes, isn’t it terrible what happened? I’m guessing that means no one’s been arrested for the murder yet.”

  “Not yet.”

  The engine of Ray’s cruiser rumbled to life and he pulled out into the street. He activated the lights and siren and sped off.

  “Looks like there might be another emergency,” Joan remarked as we watched the cruiser disappear around the corner.

  “Hopefully nothing serious,” I said.

  I spent another minute or so chatting with Joan about the weather and her dog, and then I set off for home.

  Flapjack was pleased to see me, rubbing against my legs as I kicked off my sneakers in the foyer. I picked him up and he purred happily as I carried him to the family room at the back of the house.

  Brett was likely finished or nearly finished work for the day, so I sent him a quick text message once I’d set Flapjack down on the couch.

  Do you want to go out for dinner or stay in?

  While I waited for a response, I poured myself a glass of sweet tea and drank it while standing by the French doors, gazing out into the darkness. I would have loved to sit out on the back porch, listening to the waves crashing ashore, but I knew I’d freeze in short order so I remained inside and contented myself with enjoying my drink.

  I checked my phone for a response from Brett every few minutes, but none appeared. After a while, I decided to send him another message.

  Are you still at work?

  When I still hadn’t heard back from him after several minutes, I tried phoning him. The call went to voicemail. I hung up without leaving a message; a current of unease humming through my bones.

  “He’s probably just working late,” I said to Flapjack, although it was myself I was trying to reassure. “He’ll get back to me when he’s free.”

  Flapjack tucked his front paws beneath him and closed his eyes, unconcerned.

  It was past six thirty now, and my stomach complained that I hadn’t consumed anything other than iced tea for hours.

  I’ll put something together for us here, I wrote to Brett in another text message.

  Opening the fridge, I assessed my supplies and decided to make my favorite lentil curry. I gathered ingredients and set them out on the island, not for the first time appreciating how much prep space I had in my new kitchen.

  Another twinge of concern tried to get my attention when I glanced at the clock, but I did my best to ignore it. Maybe Brett’s phone had died and he’d show up on my back porch once he’d had a chance to have an after-work shower. He’d be hungry when he arrived, so I focused on chopping vegetables and measuring out spices.

  I was about to turn on the stove when my phone finally rang. I snatched it up off the kitchen table, a quick glance at the screen confirming that Brett was the caller.

  “Hey, I’m about to start cooking some curry,” I said by way of greeting.

  “Marley…”

  My stomach dropped at the sound of his voice. I tightened my grip on my phone. “What’s wrong?”

  “It’s my dad. He collapsed at the jobsite.”

  I sank into a kitchen chair. “Oh, my God. Is he okay?”

  “He’s alive.”

  I held on to the edge of the kitchen table. It was as if the world was spinning wildly around me. “Where are you?”

  “The hospital in Port Angeles.”

  “Your mom? Chloe?”

  “My mom’s here. Ray drove her. Chloe was already in Port Angeles. I got in touch with her and she’s on her way here now.”

  There was no doubt in my mind what I’d do next. “I’ll be there as soon as I can, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  That single word sounded so fractured that my heart almost shattered. I didn’t want to break the connecti
on, but I had to if I wanted to get to him quickly. I spared only a few seconds to shove all the food from the island back into the fridge so Flapjack wouldn’t get into anything that might make him sick. Then I was out the door, hating every mile that stood between me and Brett.

  Chapter 8

  When I reached the hospital waiting room, the first person I spotted was Brett’s younger sister, Chloe. Her hair was the same shade of blond as her brother’s, although hers wasn’t curly like his. She also had the same blue eyes, usually bright with happiness. At the moment, however, her eyes were wide with shock as she sat in a chair, staring at the opposite wall. Her mom sat next to her, gripping Chloe’s hand as if her life depended on it.

  I had to take two steps farther into the room before I saw Brett seated on the far side of his mom. He was leaning forward, forearms resting on his legs as he stared at the floor. But when he raised his gaze and saw me, he got to his feet.

  I rushed across the room and put my arms around him. He pulled me in close, holding me tightly, burying his face in my hair.

  “Is there any news?” I whispered without letting go of him.

  “Not yet.”

  For a moment we remained there, holding on to each other without saying a word. As much as it pained me to do so, I stepped back eventually, knowing I needed to say something to his family.

  “I’m so sorry, Elaine,” I said to Brett’s mom, taking her hand and giving it a squeeze.

  Elaine gave me a shaky ghost of a smile. “Thank you for coming, Marley.”

  Chloe got to her feet and hugged me. When she sat down again, she wiped tears from her cheeks with the back of her hand. I returned to Brett, hugging him again.

  “Was it a heart attack?” I asked quietly.

  “I think so,” Brett said.

  I rested my cheek against his chest, wishing I could absorb all the pain and fear he was feeling at that moment, wishing I could somehow make everything better.

  “Marley,” Brett said after a moment, his voice little more than a whisper.

  I pulled back so I could see his face. The fear and suffering in his blue eyes sent a deep ache through my chest.

  When he spoke again, his voice sounded even more broken than it had on the phone. “When he collapsed, he had no pulse. I had to do CPR.”

  It was as if my heart broke into a thousand pieces. I could hardly breathe knowing he’d gone through that, but I wouldn’t let myself crack, not when he needed me to be strong.

  “The paramedics arrived with a defibrillator and got his heart beating again.”

  “You helped save him,” I said.

  Doubt flickered in his eyes. “Maybe.”

  I put my hands to his face. “You gave him a chance.” I needed him to believe those words, to hold on to that shard of hope. I knew the desolation of losing all hope and I never wanted him to feel that.

  I could see in his eyes that he was struggling, wondering if he’d done enough, if there was anything more he could have done.

  “I know you, Brett Collins,” I said, placing a hand on his chest, over his heart. “You did everything you could for him. You’ve given him the best chance you could have.”

  Brett closed his eyes and rested his forehead against mine. I held on to his hands, running my thumbs over his knuckles, hoping to give him some measure of comfort.

  “I’m glad you’re here,” he said quietly.

  I squeezed his hands. “I wouldn’t be anywhere else.”

  * * * *

  After a time, we claimed two empty seats next to Brett’s mom. I kept hold of Brett’s hand and rested my head on his shoulder as we waited for news about his dad. Three other people sat at the far end of the waiting room, but no one spoke above a whisper, and all the noises of the hospital blurred together in the background.

  The minutes crept by, each one filled with worry and dread. Finally, a doctor arrived to speak with the Collins family. I hung back, not wanting to intrude. I’d left my seat when the doctor arrived, but I returned to it, clasping my hands in my lap to keep them from shaking. My heart raced and I had to focus on breathing to keep the oxygen flowing into my lungs. I’d been where Brett was now, standing on the brink, not knowing if the news he was about to receive would be positive or utterly devastating.

  I could remember the crushing blow of hearing the worst news possible, and I knew what it was like to have the world ripped out from beneath your feet so fast that you couldn’t regain your balance, couldn’t imagine anything ever being right again.

  I wouldn’t have wished for anyone to go through that, least of all Brett, but I couldn’t stop it from happening. And that helplessness, mixed in with my too-vivid memories of my own experiences, left me teetering on the verge of panic.

  Closing my eyes, I tried to push everything away—memories, worries, what-ifs. I didn’t want to do anything but breathe in and out, but I couldn’t keep any of those things at bay.

  A familiar hand rested on my shoulder and my eyes flew open. I jumped to my feet, grasping one of Brett’s hands in both of my own.

  “He’s stable.” Relief slipped out with his words.

  The vise that had tightened around my chest loosened.

  “The doctor confirmed that it was a heart attack,” Brett said. “He needs bypass surgery.”

  That information sank in slowly.

  “But he’s stable now,” I said, clinging to those words. “And they can make him better.”

  Brett nodded. “My dad’s strong. He’ll make it through.”

  “He will,” I agreed, desperate for that to be the truth. “Will they do the surgery now?”

  “They’re going to transfer him to Seattle first. My mom is staying with him. Chloe and I are going home to pack a few things and then we’ll drive to Seattle.”

  “Okay,” I said, trying to take in all the information.

  “Chloe’s not up to driving, so I’ll drive her home in her car. I came in the ambulance with Dad, so my truck’s still in Wildwood Cove.”

  “Are you okay to drive?” I asked.

  “Yes, I’ll be fine.”

  I searched his face, wanting to be sure that was true. “I can drive you both if you need me to.”

  He gently brushed my hair back from my face. “It’s okay. I can drive.”

  “You’ll be in Seattle for a few days at least,” I said, my mind sluggishly processing everything. “I’ll call my mom. If you or your mom or Chloe need some sleep or a shower or whatever, you can go to her place. She won’t mind at all.”

  He kissed the top my head. “Thank you.”

  “Did you see your dad?”

  “For a minute. He’s weak, but conscious. Considering what he’s been through, I’d call that a blessing.”

  “It is,” I agreed. “It most definitely is.”

  * * * *

  The drive home seemed to take longer than it actually did. I followed behind Chloe’s car, wanting to be sure that Brett would really be all right driving, that they’d make it back to Wildwood Cove safely. Only once we were off the highway did I relax my grip on the steering wheel. A minute or so later, I turned off into my driveway while Brett and Chloe continued on into town.

  Before leaving the hospital, we’d decided that Brett would drop his dog, Bentley, off at my place before continuing on to Seattle. I sat on the couch in the family room to wait for him, holding Flapjack. In the stillness of my home, with my cat purring on my lap, tears finally welled in my eyes and spilled out onto my cheeks.

  I could have broken down into full-out sobs, but I didn’t let myself. I didn’t want to be a mess when Brett arrived with Bentley. Mixed in with my tears was the relief that came with knowing Brett’s dad was stable and in good care, but he wasn’t out of the woods yet, and I felt terrible for Brett’s whole family. It didn’t help that the worst memories of my life
had clawed their way up closer to the surface than they had in a long time.

  My world had changed forever the day my stepdad and stepsiblings had been caught in a rockslide while driving on a mountain highway. My stepdad and stepbrother, Dylan, had died at the scene, but my stepsister, Charlotte, had clung to life in the hospital for three days before she slipped away.

  I knew too well the hell that Brett had gone through that day—was still going through—and I hoped with every ounce of my being that everything would turn out okay in the end.

  I managed to cry out my tears, clean myself up, and phone my mom before Brett’s silver pickup pulled into the driveway and trundled to a stop out front of my house. Chloe remained in the passenger seat while Brett got out into the cold night air and let his goldendoodle out from the backseat.

  Bentley, unaware of the troubles plaguing his favorite humans, bounded up the porch steps to greet me with enthusiastic licks while I patted him on the head. When he finally settled down, he left the porch to go sniff at a tree at the edge of the illumination cast from the porch light. Brett removed a bucket, food and water dishes, and Bentley’s leash from the back of the truck and carried them over my way.

  “I think that’s everything he’ll need,” Brett said as he set Bentley’s things on the porch.

  “Do you want me to go with you?” I asked in a rush. “I don’t want to be in the way, but I could stay at my mom’s place so I’d be closer to you.”

  Brett folded me into his arms. “You could never be in the way, but I don’t want to take you away from the pancake house.”

  “I could make it work,” I said into his chest.

  “I’m tempted,” he said after a moment. “But there’ll be a lot of waiting at that end, and I’ll feel better knowing Bentley’s being well taken care of in a familiar place.”

  I sighed against him, not wanting to let go. “Okay. But if you change your mind, all you have to do is say the word. And please keep me updated.”

  “I will. I promise.”

  He kissed me before stepping back with reluctance matching my own.

  “I love you, Marley.”

  “I love you too.”