Love You to Death

by Melissa March

  I wanted to see if there was anything in the paper about us or the incident at the lab. I quickly scanned the titles and stories, finding nothing on the day it all happened. I went forward two days before I saw anything. My stomach dropped to my feet.

  There on the front page, midway to the bottom, was my wedding picture. The caption read, ‘Detective’s New Bride, Arden Bateman, Missing.’ The story went on to say that Cass had come home to find the house ransacked, signs of struggle, and me gone. He gave a brief description of Stewie as a person of interest and insinuated it was a kidnapping.

  This was unbelievable. Implicating Stewie as a kidnapper was ridiculous. I continued reading, getting more steamed as I did. Stewie was not armed and dangerous. Cass was really reaching here, but I guess the more serious it is, the more people would pay attention.

  Great. We were fugitives. I knew he’d be looking for us, but I never thought he’d go this far, or this public. I wondered if the local papers or TV stations here would be carrying the story.

  I did a few more searches to find out they weren’t. Thank God! Stupid Cass. Well, smart actually, but still stupid in my opinion. This farm was probably the best place for us to hide and lay low for a while. Guess I was going to have to milk the injury.

  At least it couldn’t get any worse.

  Chapter Eighteen

  It could, and it did.

  The shoulder didn’t get better, but it didn’t get worse. I was still wearing the sling. It continued to throb depending on what I tried to do. Sometimes it felt like a conjoined twin, sharing the same heart, who was constantly running a marathon.

  Once a day Gideon would make me take it off to maneuver the arm and work the muscles. That’s when I took my Percocet. I made sure I never took more than one Percocet a day. Tylenol was a very good friend of mine, though. In the days after my online investigation I racked my brain trying to come up with our next move.

  I managed to get online at least every few days to keep myself updated on my missing person’s case. Not much was being written. After three weeks it went from front page to a small paragraph on page six to nothing at all.

  Cass probably thought we were in the city and whoever was hiding us would give us up, but since we weren’t in the city he was getting zip, zilch, nada. I could only imagine how crazy this was making him. There was no doubt in my mind how furious he was.

  Sissy had her hands full, and I was recruited to be her assistant until my arm was good enough to do physical tasks. It seemed that everything on this farm was organized, improvised, or outright supervised by her. She was like a whirlwind. No wonder she was so spry for her age. She never seemed to stop or slow down. After our shopping incident she let up on me somewhat.

  Today she had me following her around with a clipboard and a pen while she instructed me to take notes on various to do’s around the house and the barns.

  I learned the farm had a name too. They called it the Northern Star. I asked Sissy why they named it that.

  “Because this farm gives our family direction, it guides us through life, gives us purpose.” Then she squawked at me for asking silly questions.

  The Northern Star was a very busy place. Aside from JD and Maggie, they had at least twenty people tending to just as many tasks. From sun up to sun down the farm was a buzzing beehive of activity. I had no idea horses were so much work.

  But that wasn’t what made my life miserable from time to time.

  Maggie was turning out to be a real thorn in my side. She constantly threw me looks that could kill. She was slightly more cordial to Stewie in the fact that she simply ignored him.

  Just the other day she caught me in the stables visiting Sampson. I’d taken an apple from the kitchen for him. I held the apple in the palm of my hand and waited for him to take it. When he did, I patted his neck and whispered in his ear.

  “Is that how you handle Gideon, too? Do you give him a little somethin’ sweet and whisper in his ear?”

  I whirled around, embarrassed at being caught. Maggie was mucking out a stall. The glacial look she aimed at me sent a shiver down my back. I wasn’t one to back down from a fight, but I’d had enough of physical confrontations to last me the rest of my life.

  “I didn’t know you were in here,” I said, turning back to Sampson. I hoped she’d take the hint and leave me alone.

  I heard her feet crunch over the fresh straw she had just laid down. The clang of metal on concrete made me look up. Maggie stood there with one hand on her hip and the other hand gripping her pitchfork. I gave her my own cool look and what I hoped was a very definite instruction to take a hike.

  She didn’t. Instead, she looked me up and down, smirking.

  “I don’t have the faintest idea what he sees in you.” She shook her head as if this truly stumped her. “How long are you gonna string him along? That bum arm of yours won’t hurt forever. When Dr. Do Right doesn’t have to take care of you he’ll get tired of you pretty quick.”

  Maybe it was the tone of her voice or the way she sneered when she said it, but whatever it was it hit my temper button. I stepped away from Sampson, took the two steps needed to stand in front of her, and said, “Guess it took less time for him to get tired of you.”

  Like the flip of a switch, the ice of her blue eyes gave way to molten heat. She let go of the pitchfork, and it clattered on the floor.

  “I’ll toss your sorry butt on this floor faster than you could bat your beady little eyes, city girl.” Her southern-laced voice rising with each word.

  “Don’t let anything but good sense stop you from trying.” I gave her my best Clint Eastwood scowl while I positioned myself for defense. We were pretty evenly matched in my opinion, size wise, but I didn’t know if she was any good at backing up what she was saying. If she was a fighter, I was in deep trouble, especially with my arm in a sling.

  “I’m gonna rip that black hair of yours right out!” she screeched, but didn’t make a move.

  “Look, Cowgirl Barbie, I don’t know what the heck your beef is, but you need to get over it. I’m here until I leave and not a minute before. I don’t have any designs on Gideon so you can quit with your snarky comments and juvenile behavior. No one’s interested in your bad girl routine.” I was breathing hard when I finished my speech. Maggie was shaking in her boots, but it wasn’t with fear.

  She let out a banshee wail to rival any I’d ever heard and drew her arm back, hand fisted. I tensed, waiting to block the swing. Turns out I didn’t have to. Cort came up from behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist, and lifted her off her feet. Maggie kicked her feet and flailed her arms, but she was no match for Cort, who just laughed at her attempt.

  “Calm down, Magpie.” He gave her a quick shake. “Lord, woman, you got a set of lungs on you. I heard you all the way out in the tack house.”

  “Put me down, Cort!” she ordered, clawing at his grip.

  “Not a chance. Not until you calm down.”

  “Mind your own business, Cort!” she yelled, wiggling in his locked embrace.

  “Anything happening on this farm is my business.” He gave her a quick hard squeeze. “Now just calm down,” he said quietly in her ear.

  She stopped fighting him, taking a few deep breathes. I was amazed. Cort was like the horse whisperer of loud, obnoxious, girls.

  “I’m gonna let ya go... you promise to behave?” he asked her.

  She nodded.

  “I can’t hear your head shake.” He chuckled.

  “You can see it, you idiot,” she yelled. Cort gave her another quick hard squeeze. “Yes, I’ll behave. Put me down.”

  Cort winked at me then let go of Maggie. Her feet hit the ground hard. She glared at me and stomped out of the stable. I watched her walk away, knowing this was nowhere near over.

  “Thanks,” I said, looking at Cort who was intently staring at Maggie’s butt. So that was the way of it. He liked her, and she liked Gideon. My heart went out to Cort. He must have a few screws loose to w
ant to tangle with that girl, but I guess you can’t help who you love.

  “She’s not good with change.” He flicked his gleaming eyes my way. “She’s a little high strung and well... she’s just who she is: a full keg of dynamite.”

  “Yeah, well, that keg almost punched me,” I said sourly, walking toward the house.

  “You must have set her off pretty good.”

  “Me!” I stopped and turned, glaring.

  “Don’t make me wrangle you too.” He laughed, play punching me on my good shoulder. “I only meant Maggie isn’t used to people standing up to her. It’s a good thing. She needs to be challenged. Her parents spoil her. Most people tend to let her have her way. She just needs a firm hand to rein her in every now and then.”

  “Great. Thanks for the advice, Dr. Phil. Next time she comes at me I’ll try to remember that.”

  Cort barked out a laugh, slung his arm around my shoulders, and walked me back to the house.

  That was two days ago. I’d managed to steer clear of Maggie since then, but I knew my luck wouldn’t last forever.

  “You payin’ attention to me, girl?”

  I snapped to at the sound of Sissy’s voice. “Yes, I heard you. I wrote down what you said: call Mr. Tippery about the catering for the charity-party-thingy.”

  “Hmph. Charity-party-thingy... It’s the fundraiser event of the year, a Shepherd tradition. Have some respect when you say it. The Northern Star Gala isn’t a party thingy.” She tromped ahead of me. I was glad because I could roll my eyes without her noticing.

  I was exhausted by lunch. Sissy told me to get inside and whip up some food like I was able to wave a magic wand and ‘poof’, lunch was served. I did what I was told though.

  I chucked the clipboard onto the counter and raided the fridge. There was plenty of stuff to make sandwiches, so I did. I sliced tomatoes and rinsed lettuce. There was potato salad I’d made yesterday. I got it out and set everything up buffet style on the island.

  I had to admit, I kinda liked being the cook. It made me feel good to know I was contributing to the household. Sissy flat out refused any money I tried to give her so I used my free time before bed to read some recipe books she’d lent me. A lot of recipes involved bourbon. I imagined there were quite a few AA offices here.

  Sissy was the first to arrive for lunch. She nodded her approval as she poured a glass of iced tea. She was followed by Cort and Stewie, who both fast tracked to the sink to wash their hands. JD and Gideon showed up just as everyone started filling their plates. We all sat around the large round breakfast table surrounded by windows that overlooked Sissy’s rose garden.

  “Maggie not eatin’ today?” Sissy asked JD.

  “Aurora came home last night. They’re takin’ a shoppin’ day,” JD explained between bites.

  “Good. I could use Aurora’s help with the plans for the Gala,” Sissy said, lifting the top piece of bread off her sandwich to smother mayonnaise over it.

  “Who’s Aurora?” Stewie asked, chomping a mouthful of potato salad.

  “Don’t talk with your mouth full,” Sissy instructed him. “Aurora is JD’s wife. Maggie’s mama.”

  The bite of turkey and cheese suddenly tasted like sawdust. I took a swig of tea. So the evil blonde had a mother, so much for my theory of her hatching from a rotten egg. I could just imagine her mother. Maggie was probably a mini version of her, an evil clone. Now I’d have two hot-headed women to look out for.

  “Where was she?” Stewie asked, this time with an empty mouth.

  “Her mama lives in Lexington and was sick, so Aurora went to stay with her for a while,” JD answered, smiling at Stewie as he helped himself to another sandwich.

  “Is she dying?” Stewie asked. He knew about people being sick. He’d taken care of his grandfather as much as he was able to.

  “That old battle axe will outlive us all,” Sissy predicted matter-of-factly. This reinforced my guess about the genetic disposition of the Ross women. I was not in any hurry to meet Aurora. I looked at JD. He winked at me. I quickly averted my eyes and bent my head to study my plate. The more I got to know him the more I had a hard time believing he was Maggie’s father. He was far too kind to have ever created that girl.

  “You daydreamin’ again girl?” Sissy poked her elbow into my arm.

  “No.” I blinked furiously. I couldn’t believe she caught off me guard for the second time today. I needed a nap.

  “I need ya to run into town.”

  “What?” I stared at her like she’d sprouted wings.

  “Are ya deaf? I said I need ya to go to town, to the post office. The rest of us are too busy to go, but I need to send out the invitations for the Gala. The keys are hanging by the door there.”

  I glanced across the room to where the keys hung on a hook by the door. Horrified by the thought of going anywhere by myself in this abandoned piece of earth and having to confess to Sissy that I couldn’t even if I wanted to, I stammered, “I can’t.”

  I kept my head bowed and eyes fixed on the other half of my sandwich, but I could still feel the weight of many stares directed my way.

  “Why not?” Sissy asked.

  I mumbled my reply in the faintest whisper.

  “Speak up, for Pete’s sake. I didn’t hear a word you said,” she grumbled, “and look at me when you talk to me.”

  I slowly and reluctantly complied. “I said I can’t because I don’t know how to drive.” I was angry at her for making me say it in front of everyone.

  They were all dumbfounded. No one said a word for a few minutes.

  “Quit giving me the hairy eye, girl. You should’a told me before now. I figured a girl your age would have a license.” Sissy sniffed agitatedly. “Well, no matter. You don’t need a license, just be careful.”

  I furrowed my brow. She thought I meant I couldn’t because I didn’t have a license?

  “No, Sissy, You don’t understand.” I pushed my chair back. “I don’t know how to drive. At all.” I stood up, throwing my napkin onto my plate and stomping out of the kitchen.

  “Well who shot her porch light out?” I heard her say as I pushed open the back door, letting it slam behind me. I didn’t know where I was going. I had no destination in mind. I was just following the long ribbon of driveway.

  So I didn’t have a license. Big deal. I never needed one before. In the city you can take a bus or a taxi anywhere you want to go.

  Out here in no man’s land you were out of luck. It was just one more thing for me to hate about this black hole of grass and trees. Well, that’s not true. I was just mad. I was actually beginning to like it here. It was peaceful and calm. No cars honking or crowded streets to navigate.

  My mom would’ve loved it here. She was a country girl who married a city a boy. She had great appreciation for the parks. We went to the park a lot when she was alive. Tiny tears dotted my cheeks. I missed her. I wished that she were here with me, telling me what I needed to do.

  “Sometimes the only way to get to the end of a bad situation is to go through it,” she’d say. I was tired of going through it. I wanted to be taken care of for once instead of being the one always having to be the caretaker. When was it going to be my turn?

  I heard the rumble of the truck coming up from behind me.

  “Hop in,” Gideon’s deep silky voice instructed as he pulled to a stop beside me.

  I absently wiped my eyes. I didn’t want him to see that I was crying. I climbed into the idling truck and shut the door. We sat there a few minutes, both of us facing forward. Then I remembered to buckle up. Gideon stepped on the gas, propelling us down the long lane.

  We rode in silence, the box of invitations between us. The drive into town took twenty minutes. I waited in the truck while he ran inside the post office. I watched him through the window as he smiled at the elderly woman waiting on him. Soon enough he was back in the truck.

  He threw his arm over the back of the seat. I flinched at the sudden movement, glancing at
him to see what his next move would be. His firm squared jaw was clenched in irritation, but he kept quiet as he looked out the little window and backed the truck out of the parking space.

  A couple miles out of town he turned off the main road onto a dusty dirt lane. This was not the way to the farm.

  “Why did you turn off the road?” I asked, trying to sound casual.

  “Roads? Where we’re going, we don’t need roads,” he quoted from Back to the Future. He was trying to be funny, but I was too busy thinking I might need to defend myself to appreciate the humor.

  “Uh, yeah...I’m pretty sure we do.” I gripped the handle of the door ready to jump out if he did something I didn’t like.

  “Would you relax? You act like I’m Jack the Ripper.” I watched as a frown slithered past his eyes down to his mouth.

  “Where are we going?” I demanded, keeping a tight grip on the door handle. I could feel the sudden clamminess of my hand making its hold slippery against the metal.

  “You’re really scared,” he said, brows rose in shock.

  Gideon slowed to a stop, put the truck in park, and carefully turned to face me. His expression was curious, sad, and serious.

  “What happened to you?” he asked in that soothing tone I’d heard him use on the horses.

  I didn’t answer him. I just stared into his eyes, daring him to ask me again. In the month that we’d been on the farm I’d come to like the Shepherd family. Even Sissy, because I knew under all her bluster she had a heart of gold. But I didn’t trust them. I didn’t trust anybody.

  “You don’t wanna talk about it. That’s fine. I get it.” Gideon turned his head, staring out the windshield as the engine hummed. “But I’m tired of the jumpiness every time I move too fast for you. Or get too close. I’m not gonna hurt you. None of us are gonna harm you or Stewie. So put that idea out with the trash, right now.”