“First Gram tries to pawn her Cherry Hot Pants lipstick off on me and now this. It’s like getting relationship advice from 1956.”
“That shade of lipstick sounds like it would be great with your coloring,” Kelly said.
Gretchen shoved a fry in her mouth so she had an excuse not to respond. She certainly wasn’t going to tell them she’d been playing with her grandmother’s makeup basket, best friends or not. They’d have her at Jen’s house, hot rollers in her hair and goop on her face, before she’d even finished chewing her lunch.
“We should make a day trip to the mall for makeovers,” Jen said. “Get our hair done. Let the women at the makeup counter practice on us. It would be fun.”
To Gretchen, it sounded about as much fun as scraping chicken shit off the bottom of her boots, but Kelly got excited. That worked, since it meant Gretchen could sit back and relax—and not talk about Alex—while the other two talked about mascara and trying on shoes and all sorts of mall-related things.
As she tuned them out and dredged a fry through ketchup, an old memory resurfaced in Gretchen’s mind. She wasn’t sure how old she’d been, but she hadn’t been with her grandparents very long. Sitting at the kitchen table, she’d watched their marital banter with a mixture of awe and confusion. Her parents had rarely spoken to each other with affection or teasing in their voices.
Gram had handed Gramps a jar of preserves and asked him to open it for her. Her grandfather had made a big deal out of breaking the seal, and Gram had given him a flirty smile and run her hand up his arm before taking the jar back. Then Gramps had slapped Gram on the butt and made her giggle.
Maybe there was something to the pickle jar theory, after all.
—
After spending several hours taking background shots of the town square and the old covered bridge, Alex was packing his gear in the back of the Jeep when he heard footsteps in the loose gravel behind him. He turned and then almost took a step backward when he saw that it was Edna Beecher.
She was a tiny scrap of a woman, but fierce. And very scary. And the worst part of it was, she’d been ancient for as long as he could remember, so being rude and getting in the Jeep to drive away wasn’t an option. He tried his damnedest to respect his elders, even the Wicked Witch of Stewart Mills.
“Hi, Miss Beecher.”
“I’ve got my eye on you, young man,” she said, glaring as if he’d actually done something wrong. “And so does the FBI.”
If he hadn’t been raised in town, that might have set off some alarm bells. Edna had been ratting out her fellow citizens to the FBI since before he was born, though, so he was pretty sure the only people who cared were the poor agents who had to field the nuisance calls. “I’ll keep that in mind should I decide to change career paths to something more criminal.”
“More criminal than stalking? And taking pictures of young people?”
The sense of mild amusement with which he’d been regarding Edna evaporated instantly. “What exactly did you tell them?”
Her mouth tightened and she narrowed her eyes in a squinty way that reminded him of the old westerns his stepfather liked. Facing down the villain in the street at high noon. “I told them you’re suspicious. And that you’re taking photographs of the young boys.”
Forcing himself to stay calm, he kept his voice level. “And did you also happen to mention to the FBI that it’s my job to take photographs?”
“You were skulking.”
“Miss Beecher, I never skulk. There are valid reasons, however, for a photographer to try to stay on the fringes and mostly out of sight. The most important reason being so that I don’t distract the people I’m photographing from what they’re doing.”
“You can put whatever fancy spin on it you want, young man. I’m watching you. And so are they.”
She turned and walked away, leaving him staring after her and feeling as though he’d just been run over by a truck. Did she have any idea of the destruction that kind of accusation could cause in his life?
After considering his options, he got into his Jeep and drove directly to the police station. Maybe they’d all been doing their community a disservice by humoring the woman for so many years, or maybe he was simply the first person with something to lose by her ridiculous accusation. Either way, he wasn’t going to smile and pat her on the head.
As luck would have it, Kelly was pouring herself a coffee when he walked through the front door. Stewart Mills was in the process of planning a remodel to secure the entryway, requiring everybody who visited to be buzzed in, but for now he was free to walk right over to her.
“Hey, Alex.”
“Good afternoon, Officer McDonnell.” It was still hard to believe Coach’s daughter had grown up to be a cop, so they had a lot of fun calling her that during Eagles Fest. Especially the night she’d caught them breaking into the high school to look at their trophy. His memory of the night was a little hazy, but he liked to think that was Chase’s idea.
Kelly tilted her head, and then laughed. “That sounds very official.”
“Actually, I am here on police business.”
“Then come on over to my desk and sit down. Unless you’d rather talk to somebody else. I have a personal relationship with a friend of yours, so no hard feelings if you’d rather talk to Dylan—uh, Officer Clark. Or even the chief.”
“You’ll do fine.” He followed her to her desk and then sat on the metal visitor’s chair across from her. “Edna Beecher told the FBI I’m skulking around suspiciously, taking pictures of young boys.”
Kelly tried to hide her amusement, but the corners of her mouth gave her away. “Nobody takes Edna seriously, even—or maybe especially—the FBI. You know that.”
“I just don’t want rumors I’m stalking teen boys with my camera going around the Internet, you know? I have a professional reputation. I’m on a scholarship committee and several award panels.”
“If it makes you feel any better, we did get a phone call from them almost immediately, since there are kids involved. I talked to the agent myself and that’s the end of it. I promise.”
“Kelly, with the way social media is nowadays, if I get tarred with that brush, I may never totally shake it.”
“I understand that. Edna limits her interaction to the FBI. I know for a fact she thinks the Internet is run by the Communists trying to plant subliminal messages in our brains and won’t go near it. And I personally know the FBI special agent I spoke to. She’ll make a note in Edna’s file and forget it. Because I vouched for you, she probably won’t even do a Google search, never mind dig around. This is a dead end.”
He still wasn’t thrilled about it, but he didn’t really have any choice but to trust Kelly. And there was nothing else he could do, anyway. “Thank you. And the Communists? She does know what year it is, right? Can you do some kind of mandatory psych testing on her?”
Kelly sighed. “She’s a pain in the ass, but she’s a pain in the ass of sound mind and body.”
“How old is she, anyway?”
“I only know her birth year through official law enforcement documents, which means I can’t tell you. Sorry.” She grinned. “We should all hope to live so long, though.”
“If you hear anything else about my alleged skulking, or if you get any kind of inquiry, I’d appreciate a heads-up. I know things can get messy for you, with people you know asking favors, but I’m going to ask it, anyway.”
“Alex, if I think somebody might take a serious look at you, I’ll tell you. But it’s not going to happen.”
He stood and shook her hand. It seemed a little weird, since she was Coach’s daughter and engaged to a friend of his, but he’d come on official business and she was in uniform. “I appreciate it. I guess I’ll head back to the farm and go through the photos I took today.”
“Tell Gretchen I said hi. And Gram.”
/>
“I will.”
He stopped for gas in town and had almost managed to shove the Edna Beecher incident out of his mind by the time he hit the turnoff for the farm. As he pulled up to the house, he slowed down because Cocoa was out and, though she wouldn’t run in front of the Jeep, he needed to keep an eye on her. Sometimes her enthusiasm was stronger than her common sense.
Then he noticed the truck was up on jack stands, and Gretchen was in the process of shimmying out from under it. Leaving his stuff in the Jeep for the time being, Alex got out and was greeted by Cocoa, who acted as if he’d been gone for years and was afraid she’d never see him again. He crouched down to ruffle the fur around her neck and scratch her head. Then he gave her a high five and they walked around the Jeep to see what Gretchen was up to.
She was out from under the truck and brushing dirt off of her jeans. “Hi, Alex.”
“What the hell are you up to now?” He’d swear she never just sat and relaxed, but was always doing something.
Gretchen frowned as if it was the stupidest question she’d ever heard. “I was changing the oil in the truck.”
“Wouldn’t it be easier to have Deck do it?”
“I don’t see a lot of sense in paying somebody to do something I can do myself.”
Of course she didn’t. “I guess your grandfather taught you how to do pretty much everything around the farm, huh?”
“Yup.”
He couldn’t quite bring himself to ask outright about her parents, but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t very curious about her family. “So you probably stuck to home a lot, then. That explains why I don’t have too many memories of you when we were young.”
She gave him a guarded look. “What do you mean?”
“I don’t remember a lot about elementary school, but I think I remember Kelly and Jen running around together. Not you, though. I do remember the three of you in high school, but I don’t know if it’s just that I saw Kelly more because of football and you were together a lot.”
“I didn’t live in Stewart Mills until halfway through fifth grade.”
That surprised him. “Really? For some reason, I thought you were born here.”
“I was.”
He could tell he was heading into emotional territory for her by the way she made her face and voice totally emotionless. The more she felt, the less she gave away, and the more he wanted to know. “Did your parents move away after you were born?”
“Yup.”
“And they moved back when you were in fifth grade?”
“That’s when Stewart Mills became home, yes.”
It took a few seconds for him to realize she hadn’t answered the question exactly as he’d asked it. “I’d really like to hear about it. Not for my story, but totally off the record. Living with you two as I do, I can’t help but be curious.”
She stared at him for a few long seconds, and then she shrugged. “My dad hated the farm. He and Gramps didn’t get along, so he dropped out his senior year of high school. Met my mom. They had me, and then took off. They both had some problems and drank a lot. They had trouble keeping jobs and we moved constantly. Evictions. Running from people they owed money to.”
Her voice was so flat, he felt bad for pushing. “You don’t have to tell me this, Gretchen. I shouldn’t have asked.”
Another shrug, this time just one shoulder. “It got really bad when I was about ten. They were fighting all the time and drinking and I think we were pretty much homeless. My mom used to take me to gas stations right before they were closing and it was time to throw away the nasty old steamed hot dogs and pizza slices. The people that worked there would give it to us for free. Then things got so bad, they decided to come here and hit up his parents for money.”
He couldn’t wrap his mind around it. The fact that there was worse than living on stale gas station food left him speechless, though he wouldn’t have asked, anyway.
“I’d never met my grandparents. Gramps was quiet and just watched us, because that’s how he was. But Gram cried and wrapped her arms around me.” Gretchen paused, and then the wall cracked and her eyes shimmered with tears. “I think it was the first time I’d ever been hugged.”
His heart ached for her. “Where are your parents now?”
“I have no idea. The farm was still doing pretty well financially back then and Gramps had just bought himself a new pickup. I remember it being bright red because it was the shiniest truck I’d ever seen, and I was afraid to touch it and leave fingerprints on the paint. Gram had six hundred dollars in cash tucked away and she gave it to them. Then Gramps signed that truck over to my dad, and my parents signed papers giving me to Gramps and Gram. When my parents left the lawyer’s office, that was the last time I ever saw them.”
Alex leaned back, trying to process that. She had a way of saying things so matter-of-factly it was impossible for a person to know how to respond. Should he offer sympathy for her having shitty parents? Knowing her, probably not. Then he remembered the framed photo on the desk. “Is that the truck in the picture in the living room?”
She smiled and nodded. “Yeah. When he passed away, Gram and I were going through pictures to find a few to put on display at the funeral home and we found that one. He’s scowling at the camera because he hated having his picture taken and he didn’t see why she was making a fuss about a truck. But it was the first new vehicle they’d ever owned—or would ever own—and she wanted a picture.
“Right after my parents left, I told Gramps I was sorry he had to buy a used truck with a dent in it because he’d given his pretty new one to my dad. He just smiled and said it was a bargain, and he was just glad my dad hadn’t been smart enough to ask for the property. I was too young to understand what he meant then, but looking at that photo with Gram, I realized he meant he would have given everything he had—even the farm—to keep me with him and Gram.”
In that instant, he felt like he really understood Gretchen for the first time. Her devotion to her grandmother and her determination to keep the farm going, even if it meant growing pumpkins and changing her own oil, made sense. “You’re a lucky lady to have grandparents like that.”
“Yup.” She inhaled deeply, as if centering herself, and then she gave him a small smile. “Best day of my life.”
He thought about asking her if he could use that story, or pieces of it, but discarded the idea almost immediately. She wouldn’t want that, and the asking would just make things awkward again. “Need any help?”
“I’m done. Just have to get the truck back on the ground and clean up. We’re having burgers tonight, though, so if you want to fire up the grill when Gram’s ready, that would be awesome.”
“Sounds good. I’ve got to carry my stuff in and then I’ll find her.”
Cocoa went with him, watching with interest as he pulled his camera bag out of the back. He decided to leave the tripod in there, and then closed the hatch. “Come on, girl. Let’s go find Ida.”
She thumped her tail on the ground until Alex started to move, and then she shadowed him into the house. Ida was still knitting, but she set it down when he walked in.
“Did you get some good pictures today?”
“I did. And I see blue yarn there. Did you finish the purple set for the little girl in Ohio?”
She beamed. “I did, and it came out beautiful. I did a picot edging with a white yarn with sparkles in it, and it might be the cutest set yet.”
“Did you pack it up already? I could take some photos of it for your online store if you want.”
“I was hoping you’d offer.” She reached down to rub the dog’s back. “He’s a good boy, isn’t he, Cocoa?”
When the Lab gazed up at him, her tongue lolling out of her mouth and her tail thumping, Alex laughed. She was a joyful dog, and he could see why Ida had taken an instant liking to her.
; “I’m going to run this stuff upstairs,” he said. “Gretchen said I could fire up the grill whenever you’re ready since she’s done changing the oil in her truck.”
“That girl’s always working, though she did meet the girls for lunch today.” Ida shook her head and leaned over the arm of the rocker to drop her knitting into the basket. “Maybe some night you should take her to O’Rourke’s for a nice dinner. She likes it there. I’ll stay home with Cocoa and make myself some soup and sandwiches.”
Because she wasn’t looking up at him—probably by design—he couldn’t tell exactly what she meant by that. Was it simply meant to be a treat for her selfless granddaughter? Or was she trying to hook them up?
“Maybe,” was all he said, because Gretchen wouldn’t appreciate this conversation happening without her. “I’ll be back down in a few minutes.”
As he carried his bag up the stairs, he mulled over her words. Taking Gretchen into town for dinner sounded nice, actually. He liked talking to her, and it wasn’t easy to make her stop and relax for a while.
But he suspected if he asked Gretchen to join him for a meal at O’Rourke’s, she’d come up with a reason why it was impractical or insist Ida join them. And that was assuming she didn’t flat out say no, which was also a possibility.
The thought of a date night with her was intriguing, though, and Alex knew imagining the sound of the ocean wasn’t going to be enough to bring instant sleep tonight.
07
Gretchen tried to time putting the salad together with the burgers being done, which meant glancing out the window every few minutes at Alex, who was manning the grill.
Looking at him was certainly no hardship. It was a hot day, and standing in front of the grill probably didn’t help, because his T-shirt was molded to his body. And every so often, he’d pull up the hem and use it to wipe his face. Twice she managed to time her glance out the window with that glimpse of bared skin, and both times she stopped and gave herself the time to appreciate the view.
Defending Hearts Page 8