Busted in Broken Hearts Junction

by Meg Muldoon

  After greeting him, I closed the door behind me and went straight for the kitchen. I grabbed a can of dog food from the cupboard, and poured it into the bowl next to his kibble. Then I went into my bedroom to pack a few things for the night.

  A few moments later, Hank started barking. The sound of his claws slipping and sliding against the wooden floor echoed down the hallway.

  The doorbell rang.

  I stood in my room for a second, wondering just who could be at my front door at this hour.

  Then it hit me.

  Crap.

  Molly.

  In the madness of the last 24 hours, I’d completely forgotten that I told my sister that she could come over to talk about whatever was eating at her.

  I bit my lower lip, thinking it over, wondering if I could pretend that I wasn’t home.

  Not that I didn’t want to talk to Molly about why she had a freak-out the night before at her birthday party, but the truth of the matter was, there were more pressing matters at hand. Things that I could help with that—

  I let out a sigh.

  Aw, hell.

  There was no way I could turn her away. Not after she had acted like a mad woman the night before. For someone like Molly, that kind of behavior was a real cry for help.

  I walked out of the bedroom and went for the front door, opening it.

  “Hi Mol—” I started saying.

  But I stopped mid-sentence.

  It wasn’t Molly standing there on my porch.

  Chapter 40

  “I’m real sorry to be bothering you at the dinner hour,” she said, brushing a strand of copper-red hair out of her face. “I was just hoping that I could use your phone. You see, my car broke down over there, and being the ill-prepared gal that I am, my cell is out of juice.”

  The woman, who was maybe just a shade older than me, and who I didn’t recognize as being from around here, nodded behind her toward a dusty black Honda sedan parked across the street.

  I held fast onto Hank’s collar as he tried to lunge forward again toward her, barking loudly.

  I furrowed my brow.

  The street I lived on wasn’t exactly a high traffic area.

  The woman seemed to know what I was thinking.

  “I’m visiting my parents out here in Broken Hearts,” she said. “But I’m not familiar with the area. I got turned around on these little back streets out here, and that was all she wrote.”

  She smiled at me, showing two rows of perfectly white teeth.

  I realized that she didn’t have a jacket. And the poor thing wasn’t much more than skin and bones.

  “Of course,” I said, my polite upbringing taking over. “C’mon. You can wait inside.”

  She smiled brightly, then nodded graciously.

  “Oh, thank you,” she said, rubbing her shoulders. “It’s freezing out here! I don’t know how you folks make do with these kinds of winters.”

  I smiled politely, pulling the door back and stepping aside, letting her in. My house wasn’t exactly in the order I would have wanted it to be in for a visitor, but there wasn’t much I could do about that at this point.

  I pulled my phone from my jacket pocket and handed it to her.

  “Can I get you anything in the meantime?” I asked.

  “Well, I’d hate to be any trouble,” she said, hitting numbers on the phone.

  “It wouldn’t be at all,” I said.

  “It’s just that I’ve been standing out there trying to get the damn thing to start,” she said. “Any hot drink would be a godsend.”

  “Sure thing.”

  I went into the kitchen and put a kettle of water on the stove while I heard the woman speak to who I presumed was her father.

  “No, I don’t know what’s wrong with it,” she was saying. “I’m not a mechanic. It just won’t start…”

  I went back out into the living room.

  “Yeah, okay. I’m on… I think it’s called Juniper Lane?”

  She looked at me to check, and I gave her a nod.

  “Yeah. Just off the highway. Okay. Thanks, Dad.”

  She hung up and handed the phone back to me.

  “Thanks so much,” she said. “I’ll be out of your hair soon.”

  “No, it’s okay. Really.”

  For the first time, I got a good look at the woman standing there in my living room.

  Her long red hair was pulled back up into a high pony tail. She was slight of frame, and could have really stood to gain a few pounds. She had creamy, alabaster skin. And across the ridge of her nose was just a smattering of freckles.

  She was pretty. The kind of girl that, should she walk into a saloon like The Stupid Cupid, would have a flock of ranch hands and cowboys at her side in a matter or mere minutes.

  She turned her attention to Hank, who was lying down on the floor, his claws out in front of him. A low guttural sound coming from his throat.

  “Don’t worry about him,” I said. “He’s a big teddy bear soon as he gets to know you.”

  She smiled, but I could tell the big dog made her somewhat uncomfortable.

  She glanced around the walls.

  “Nice place you have here.”

  I shrugged.

  “It’s not much, but it does the job for now.”

  “Jeez, you’ve really got a lot of friends, don’t ya?” she said, looking around my living room, her eyes passing over the photos of all my successful matches.

  There was a twang at the end of the last word. A twang that was most certainly not from around these parts.

  “Yeah, I guess you’d say so,” I said.

  “I wish I had that many friends,” she said, smiling sadly.

  It was a strange thing to say, and I realized that I didn’t really know exactly how to respond.

  “I don’t believe that,” I finally said. “A pretty gal like you’s bound to have plenty of friends.”

  “Maybe once,” she said. “But life has a way of tossing things at you from left field.”

  I nodded.

  I certainly knew what that was like.

  The tea pot began hissing, and I went back in the kitchen and grabbed us a couple of mugs.

  “What would you like?” I asked. “I’ve got peppermint and chamomile tea, or I have apple cider mix.”

  “Apple cider sounds great,” she said.

  A minute later, I handed her a steaming mug of the sugary treat.

  She looked down at it, smiling. Then she winced uneasily.

  “Jeez, I hate asking you this, but is there any chance I could add something, you know, something stronger to this? My nerves are just shot.”

  “Sure,” I said, shrugging.

  I grabbed a bottle of whiskey that Fletcher had given me a few weeks earlier as a celebration present for closing out such a great quarter at The Cupid, and added a healthy splash to her mug.

  She raised her eyebrows looking at the high-end bottle.

  “You have good taste,” she said.

  I smiled.

  “Thank you so much, again,” she said after taking a sip. “You’ve been really, really kind.”

  “Of course.”

  “I’m Christina, by the way,” she said, sticking out her hand.

  “Loretta,” I said, meeting it. “But most folks around here call me Bitters.”

  “Bitters?”

  “Yeah, I know it’s a strange one,” I said. “The name just kind of stuck. Though I don’t think it makes much sense these days.”

  She smiled.

  “You got a boyfriend, Bitters?”

  I nodded.

  “Yep. I sure do. How about you?”

  A shadow crossed her face.

  “I did there for a long, long while,” she said. “We almost got married. But uh… things went sour.”

  The last part came out no stronger than a whisper, and I could sense that there was something painful there.

  I thought about how to change the subject, but she beat me to it.
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  “How long have you been seeing him?” she asked. “I mean, your guy.”

  “Almost a year,” I said, taking a sip of my peppermint tea.

  “Is it serious?”

  “It is,” I said. “I’m hoping… well, I’m trying not to hope too much, I guess.”

  I smiled awkwardly, suddenly feeling strange for baring my innermost feelings to a lost out-of-towner. But there was something nice about having this kind of girl talk. It seemed that with Beth Lynn’s wedding preparations, and her general self-absorbed ways to begin with, we hadn’t had much time lately to talk about things other than wedding decorations and menu items.

  She smiled slyly.

  “You’re hoping he’ll pop the question,” she said, reading my mind.

  “Yeah,” I said. “At least most days I’m hoping he will.”

  She nodded, knowingly.

  “I’m lucky, though,” I said. “Ring or no ring, I know I’m lucky to have him.”

  She took another sip of her whiskey-spiked apple cider.

  “Well, I don’t know the particulars,” she said. “But I think that…”

  Her words suddenly cut out.

  The room started spinning, the way it did when I was about to get one of my visions.

  It came on like a tidal wave. Strong and fast and unrelenting. The needles pricking the back of my head. Then the severe pain, as something unseen and sharp drilled its way into my skull.

  My heart quickened. I watched as the woman’s lips moved, but I couldn’t understand what she was saying.

  I took a seat on the sofa.

  “I’m sorry,” I mumbled. “I didn’t… I didn’t hear the last part of what you said.”

  “I was just saying that it sounds like Fletcher’s a good gu… oh my gosh, are you okay, Bitters? You look—”

  “He… he is—”

  The strange woman’s face washed away into a sea of blackness.

  Chapter 41

  A swollen southern sun beat down upon the meadow, causing the grasses to sweat and the cicadas to sing, the latter of which filled the wide open space with their monotonous, dream-like hum.

  Strange. All that money he had in the safe back at home. All the places he could have taken her with that money. All the places he would have taken her with that money. And the only place she wanted to be was right here in this meadow, under this oak tree, looking up at the wide open sky above. Watching those thunderheads roll by on a sweltering Tennessee summer afternoon.

  It was funny how money didn’t seem to matter as much when you actually had some. Because there was nowhere else in the world he wanted to be right now either than right here in this meadow with her.

  She rested her head on his arm, her black hair spilling out over it into the grasses. Her hot skin pressed up against his. The smell of that skin, warm and soft in the hot sun, was unreal.

  He’d never been so happy in all his life than he was now, with Marie lying in his arms.

  He’d do anything for her. And he knew that when he said that, he actually meant it. It wasn’t the way the dozens before him must have said it to her. He would have gone to the ends of the earth for her. He would have robbed innumerable banks for her. He would have stolen diamonds and rubies and sapphires and gold for her.

  He would have killed for her.

  “What’s on your mind, sweetie?” she said, tilting her head, those pretty green eyes of hers suddenly on him. Setting his soul on fire, the way they always did.

  “Nothing,” he said, looking down at her, smiling.

  “I saw your expression,” she said, rolling over on her stomach so she could get a better look at him. “You weren’t thinking about nothing.”

  He kissed her on the bridge of her nose.

  “You were probably thinking about the next job you’re gonna pull with Eddie. Am I right?” she said.

  “Nope,” he said, pulling his hat farther down on his head.

  “Good,” she said. “Because you know how I feel about Eddie.”

  He let out a sigh. They’d been through this conversation before. About Eddie. She never did care for him much. He knew that sometimes Eddie could come off as abrasive, and he didn’t hold it against her that she didn’t take to him. But he didn’t feel like rehashing it all again. Not on a day this perfect.

  She seemed to sense his reluctance to talk about it. And like the good, smart woman that she was, she dropped the subject.

  “Then you were probably thinking about all that money you’ve got stashed away in the safe and what you’re gonna do with it.”

  He smiled.

  Her utter obliviousness to his hell-fire obsession with her and everything about her always tickled him.

  “Nope, wasn’t thinking about that either,” he said.

  “Then what were you thinking, Cowboy?”

  “What I’m always thinking about, darlin,’” he said, looking down into those hazel, spell-casting eyes of hers. “You.”

  He kissed her. The fire between them felt like it was going to set the whole meadow in flames.

  He pulled her to him, reaching for the buttons on her silky blouse, but she pushed him away for a moment.

  “I’ve been doing some thinking lately too,” she said, gazing at him.

  “Have you now?”

  She nodded.

  “I have something to tell you.”

  He scanned her beautiful face, his heart beating loudly in his chest. She broke his stare for a moment, looking down.

  She was scared.

  And that made him scared, too.

  “What is it, Marie?”

  She looked back up at him.

  He felt her body trembling.

  “I’m pregnant.”

  Two simple words.

  So small.

  But they suddenly meant everything.

  His heart thundered in his chest.

  He thought it might just burst with joy.

  Her eyes grew moist, and the scared look she’d had on her face changed into a smile.

  He held her in his arms.

  “I love you, Marie,” he sighed.

  The cowboy had never known such a happy feeling in all his life.

  Chapter 42

  “You did something to her, didn’t you? Didn’t you!? You crazy, psych—”

  “I didn’t. I swear to you. I didn’t do a thing. All I did was—”

  “I know what you did. And you’re playing with fire. Do you hear me? You’re playing with fire. If you ever come near her again, I’m calling him myself. And I don’t care if he breaks out and comes all the way out here to kil —”

  “Please don’t. Please don’t. Oh, Please.”

  Crying. Deep, gut-wrenching sobs.

  “I promise I won’t go near her again. I promise.”

  Chapter 43

  I opened my eyes.

  Shafts of cold, early morning winter sunlight streamed through my window, casting shadows against the bedroom’s pale blue walls.

  I felt Hank’s heavy body at my feet, his chest heaving up and down with the effort of sleep.

  I realized I was under a thick layer of comforters and that old wool Pendleton blanket Lawrence had given me. Dried sweat had cemented my bangs to my forehead, and I felt as if I’d been shivering all night.

  I glanced around.

  Hank wasn’t the only one in the room with me.

  I rubbed my eyes, looking at his long, lean silhouette in the morning light. He was standing over by the window, gazing out at the bright, frosty, frozen landscape. His hands in his jean pockets, he was wearing the same clothes he’d been wearing the day before.

  He must have been here all night.

  “Seems all you do lately is wait around for sick people,” I said, sitting up.

  He turned around. There was a deep crease of concern between his eyebrows.

  He came over and sat on the bed next to me, reaching for my hand.

  “How are you feeling, Bluebird?”

 
; I rubbed my head.

  “Better,” I said. “I’m sorry if—”

  He shook his head.

  “Don’t say sorry to me,” he said. “You ain’t got nothing to feel sorry about.”

  I let out a sigh.

  “They’re getting worse, aren’t they?” he said. “Your visions?”

  I bit my lower lip and after a moment, I nodded.

  “They didn’t use to come on so strong,” I said. “I mean, I didn’t use to just…”

  I trailed off.

  “I think you should see a doctor, Loretta.”

  I shook my head.

  “No,” I said. “I’m okay. But I saw more of Jake’s story. He was lying in a meadow with Marie. She was talking about money and pulling jobs. I mean, the impression I got, Jake Warner was a bank robber or a thief of some sort, Fletcher.”

  Fletcher didn’t say anything. He just looked hard into my face.

  “You’re so pale, darlin,’” he said. “I really think it’d be best if I take you to see the doctor.”

  “I’m okay, really. I just need to—”

  But I stopped mid-sentence, something suddenly coming back to me.

  I furrowed my brow.

  “There was a woman here,” I said, sitting up further in bed. “Right before my vision hit. She was having car trouble and asked to borrow my phone.”

  Fletcher’s face tightened up noticeably.

  “What happened to her?” I said.

  He cupped his hands around his face and looked down.

  “Listen, Loretta. Remember how I told you there was something I needed to talk to you about? When all of this Clay business had settled?”

  I felt a thick lump at the back of my throat as I scanned his face.

  The memory of the voices abruptly returned, suddenly clearer than a cloudless sky in summer.

  Fletcher’s voice.The woman’s voice. Arguing.

  Arguing like they knew each other.

  Arguing about me.

  Oh my gosh. Oh my gosh. Oh my gosh.

  This couldn’t be happening.

  Fletcher couldn’t have…

  Could he?

  My soulmate. The man I was hoping to walk with down the aisle one day. He was…