by S. R. Grey
Both kids are seated at the table, dressed and ready for the day. Cassie has on jean shorts and a bright-yellow tank top, while Will is wearing torn jeans and an old faded graphic T-shirt. As is often the case, Chase’s brother is dressed the same as Chase is today, meaning both are ready to get back to work on the mural.
Chase grabs the orange juice out of the refrigerator. He pours a glass and hands it to me. I sit down at the table with Will and Cassie, while Chase hops up on the counter, juice carton and glass in hand.
“So, Will,” Chase begins, filling his glass as he speaks, “now that everything’s settled with Cassie’s stepdad, what do you think about sticking around Harmony Creek for another week?”
Will must like the idea, his expression brightens immediately. He smiles at Chase, nods once, and then turns to Cassie and says, “Would you mind?”
She shakes her head. “No, not at all, I’m good with that. With everything going on, my mom decided to take off work next week. She already has a bunch of mother-daughter stuff planned. No doubt, I’ll be running around with her once we’re back in Vegas.” She pauses for a beat, and then adds softly, “I think my mom feels guilty she didn’t pick up on what was going on with Paul.”
Cassie’s mention of mother and daughter stuff reminds me that there’s a message on my voicemail from my own mother, sent yesterday. I’ve yet to return her call. I now make a mental note to call her back sometime today. She sounded kind of urgent in her voicemail, but I don’t know if that was nervousness showing in her voice, or something else entirely. It’s hard to discern these things with stuff still weird between us. Sadly, though, I expect this is the way it will remain for some time. At least, until we have a break-though.
While I ruminate over my mother, everyone else is busy discussing the logistics of Will staying in town until next Friday. He still has the plane ticket he never used, so there’s talk about when to call the airline to make the date-change adjustment.
“Clear it with Mom first,” Chase says to Will. “Then we’ll call the airline this afternoon.”
“Yes, sir, big bro,” Will retorts with a mock-salute. “Consider it done.”
Some laughter and playful insulting ensues, but when Will falls into a murmured discussion with Cassie, I feel Chase’s focus shift to me.
I am staring into my juice glass, only somewhat listening. Then again, I’m not really paying much attention at all. I’m too preoccupied, thinking about my mother. I guess, even after my talk with Father Maridale, I’m still all over the place when it comes to her.
I glance up at Chase, still on the counter, and his blues fill with concern.
“What’s wrong?” he mouths.
I shake my head once to let him know now is not the time; I’ll tell him about my mixed-up feelings later. But, first, I should speak with my mom so I know what she wants.
When I do have a chance to talk with her, later in the morning, while at work, she is nothing but kind to me. I speak to her on my cell outside the rectory office, and the sincerity in her voice alleviates my earlier concerns. I have to admit that I do feel better about my mom every time I speak with her.
So, there’s no problem there, not like I initially feared. But the update she shares with me leaves me feeling more than a little queasy.
I step back into the rectory office, where Cassie is seated in the chair next to my desk, amusing herself on her phone.
Chase and his brother are putting the finishing touches on the mural, so Cassie has been hanging with me all morning.
“Is everything okay?” she asks when she looks up and sees my face drained of color.
I wave her off. “Yeah, yeah, everything is fine.”
It’s not, but it’s Chase I long to speak with, not Cassie.
I sit back down at the desk, slowly. Cassie smiles at me, but there’s concern in her eyes.
I decide to change the focus to lunch, but just as I’m about to ask Cassie what she feels like eating today, Will steps through the office doors.
He makes a bee-line to Cassie, leans down and kisses her cheek. “Guess what?” he says “Chase gave us money for lunch. Where do you want to go?”
Cassie twists in her seat to face me and asks, “Is it okay if I leave?”
“Of course,” I reply.
“Kay, you can come with us, if you want,” Will says, smiling. “Chase gave me more than enough cash for three lunches.”
Will seems so much more relaxed now that Cassie is no longer in danger of being harassed, or possibly molested. Plus, spending the past few days with Chase has clearly been good for him.
His smile, like Chase’s, is very infectious, so I can’t help but grin back.
But then I tell him, “I think I’m going to decline the lunch invitation. But thanks for asking. I’ll just wait for Chase.”
“Oh”—Will smacks his hand to his forehead—“I almost forgot. I’m supposed to tell you Chase is skipping lunch today. He has a few more details to add to the mural.”
“Uh, okay,” I say, “thanks for letting me know.”
I place some papers into a file, straighten a few things on the desk, and then, just thinking out loud, add, “I should still probably stop over at the school and make sure Chase takes a break and eats something.”
Will nods, “Yeah, good plan.”
I can tell Will and Cassie want to get going, so I say, “You two go on ahead.”
Before they leave, Cassie asks if it’d be okay if she and Will just do their own thing for the rest of the afternoon. She mentions the ice cream shop with the miniature golf course that’s across from the church. “Do you mind if we hang out over there the rest of the day?”
Will chimes in, “Yeah, my part on the mural is pretty much done. Chase said he didn’t care if Cass and I hung out in town this afternoon. He did say I should ask you, though. You know…to make sure you’re cool with it.”
“Yeah, sure.” I shrug. “I don’t mind. Just be back in time for us to leave.”
“You got it,” Will replies, “we’ll be back by four or five.”
After Cassie and Will leave the rectory office, I head over to the school. If Chase is still set on not going out for lunch, I’ll just buy him some food from the vending machines in the teachers’ lounge.
After a walk across the sweltering parking lot—it’s a scorcher today—I step into the entrance area of the school. Chase is hard at work, across from the main doors, intently painting some detail onto the red schoolhouse in the mural.
He spins around, paintbrush in hand, when he hears my approach. “Hey, babe.”
His appearance is nothing short of stunning as he lowers the paintbrush to his side and wipes sweat from his brow with his other hand.
Sweaty Chase is übersexy Chase, and I take a minute to thoroughly enjoy the view. The man could truly star in one of those sweaty-gorgeous-guy-working-hard-on-a-hot-summer-day-and-needs-a-drink-of-water commercials.
That particular image prompts me to ask, “Are you thirsty?”
Chase chuckles, places the paintbrush sideways across a can of paint, and replies, “Maybe just a little.”
I turn in the direction of the teacher’s lounge. Pointing, I say in a rushed tone, “Let me go grab you a bottle of water. I’ll buy some chips and pretzels for you, too.”
With concern in his eyes—he knows something is amiss—he says, “You don’t have to buy me anything, Kay. Will was supposed to give you a message that I plan to work through lunch.”
“He did give me that message,” I tell Chase. “But I still wanted to stop over and see you. Plus, you have to eat, you know?” I force a smile.
“Okay,” he replies slowly, “but what about you? You sure you’re okay with just pretzels and chips for lunch?”
Now, when I smile, it’s for real. “Hey, that was good enough for the two of us before.”
It’s a clear reference to the lunch he and I shared following out first kiss, and he knows it.
Chase’s eye
s meet mine. “That was a great lunch,” he agrees, “one of the best.”
I say, “Yeah,” and cast my eyes downward.
“Hey,” Chase says softly, “what’s wrong, sweetheart?”
I raise my eyes to his. “Ugh.” I frown. “I talked to my mother today.”
Chase comes to me without hesitation. “What happened?” he asks, placing his hands on either side of my face.
Just his touch comforts me, so I close my eyes for a few seconds to savor the feeling of being so well cared for. I know Chase thinks my mother has upset me. And she has, but not in the way he’s probably thinking.
Chase worries my mother will disappoint me, like she’s done before. As a result, he doesn’t fully trust her. Not that I do either, not completely, but I have to say that today my mother gave me hope that she and I can move forward. She’s trying to make amends for choosing my ex-boyfriend, Doug Wilson, over me for so many years. In fact, she’s trying so hard that jerky Doug was the purpose of her call. Seems she wanted to give me a heads-up on what the asshole is planning.
His plan is what has me so upset. It’s also the news I now share with Chase.
“My mom was great,” I begin, “but it’s what she told me that has me feeling like I might puke.”
“What’d she tell you?” Chase asks with concern in his tone.
“Doug is coming to town tomorrow,” I blurt out in a rush of words. “He’ll be here for a week, maybe two.”
Chase tries to hide it, but I see his fists clenching when he lowers his hands down to his sides.
“Why’s that fucker spending time in Harmony Creek?” he grinds out.
Chase hates my ex-boyfriend almost as much as I do. Doug was at my house, uninvited and unwilling to leave, the night my sister died. I’ve always placed partial blame at his feet—Sarah never would have been left alone if he hadn’t showed up that night. And she wouldn’t have been left unattended long enough for her to wander out to the backyard pool, where she drowned. But Doug had me trapped upstairs, keeping me from her and thus allowing my sister to end up in that damn pool.
As if all that wasn’t horrible enough, I recently found out—through my mother—that Doug played a much bigger role in the awful tragedy. He was the one who left the back patio door unlatched. If he hadn’t forgotten to re-latch the door when he went out to dispose of a beer can, Sarah never would have snuck outside. She wouldn’t have ended up in the water.
There’s no doubt in my mind that my baby sister would be alive today if it hadn’t been for Doug Wilson and his acts of stupidity.
“Kay?” Chase cups my cheek when I sway a little. “Are you all right?”
“Yeah, I guess.” I look up at the man I love, the man who keeps me together, the man who steadies me at times like these. “To answer your question,” I continue, “my mom said Doug’s coming into town to help his mom. I guess he has vacation time or whatever.”
Doug’s mother was in a serious car accident recently. Doug was in Harmony Creek directly following the accident, but he had to return to where he lives now—Columbus, Ohio, same as my parents—because of work.
I was glad he left town so quickly, as it meant no chance of running into him. But if Doug remains in town longer than a day or two, the possibility of my running into him increases exponentially, especially if he’s striving to make that happen. Personally, I don’t care to come face-to-face with Doug Wilson ever again, not for the rest of my life. It might be unavoidable, though, considering the other thing my mother told me.
“There’s more,” I say to Chase.
“What?” He eyes me warily.
I breathe in deeply, then exhale slowly. “My mother said I should be on the lookout.”
“What the fuck does that mean?” Chase narrows his blues, and I’m reminded why I once christened the color of his eyes gunmetal blue.
In times like these, when he’s upset or angry, the gray flecks in his eyes become more apparent, making his gaze cold and hard. But his reaction is not directed at me. Chase’s ire is solely focused on my ex-boyfriend.
I continue, though I know, in doing so, Chase’s irritation will increase tenfold.
“I guess Doug has it in his head that he needs to seek me out, so he can, like, apologize in person.” I roll my eyes. “He’s about four years too late, right? Besides, I have no desire to hear his lame apology anyway.”
I finish speaking and sigh, relieved to have everything off my chest. Chase remains quiet, his lips pressed together. The look on his face makes me think he may have plans for Doug Wilson. I should discourage my boyfriend from violence. But, like with the junkie situation, a part of me yearns for Chase to kick the shit out of my ex. Sure, I want to be a good person, and for the most part, I am, but I can’t deny there’s a level of darkness in me, just like there is in Chase. Our good and bad bind us. Chase almost killed a man in my defense, the junkie who attacked me not so long ago. But instead of being appalled by the level of violence Chase meted out on the guy—and it was substantial—I was pleased, not to mention turned on. So now, instead of making Chase promise to leave Doug alone, I request nothing. I keep my mouth shut and think, Let the chips fall where they may.
Chase’s eyes meet mine. I don’t know what he’s looking for, but he must find it. He nods and then heads back over to the mural.
When he starts closing up paint cans, I ask, “What are you doing? I thought you wanted to work through lunch.”
He shakes his head and continues to clean up. “No, this can wait.” He stands and turns to me, holds out his hand. “Let’s get out of here for a while.”
I place my hand in his. “You sure?” I ask.
He nods and that’s that. We go to lunch down at the diner. We eat and talk. My worries leave me and we have fun, just like we always do.
My make-everything-better guy brings out my best.
Consequently, when I return to the church grounds, I’m in a far lighter mood than before we left. Chase deposits a light kiss on my cheek, and we go our separate ways.
Unfortunately, when I reach the church office, the bright mood I’m hanging on to by a thread snaps. Or more succinctly put, it’s snipped away when I see who’s waiting for me in the chair next to my desk.
“Missy Metzger,” I mutter to myself. “Oh, yay.”
Missy can’t hear me through the glass doors, but she glances up nonetheless and gives me a little wave.
I wave back, taking in her attire. Her clothes snag my attention, since they’re so vastly different from what she’s usually wearing.
“What a change,” I whisper.
Missy is dressed in conservative clothing, a long navy skirt, a light-blue blouse buttoned up snugly over her substantial cleavage, and plain flats. Her dishwater blond hair is pinned up tightly and her makeup is minimal.
I sense something has changed in Missy’s life. I sense that’s why she’s here—to give me an update.
“Might as well get this over with,” I mumble, before I push open the double doors and step into the church office.
My approach to my desk is hesitant. This is the closest I’ve been to Missy since I found out she shared an intimate encounter with my boyfriend one night back in early June. She and Chase hooked up (not all the way, but enough) behind the Anchor Inn.
I’ve successfully avoided Missy since the night I overheard her and Chase arguing about their encounter at the church carnival. Their intimacy happened before I met Chase—like a day before—but it still feels awkward every time I see Missy. Anyway, the week after the church carnival I got lucky and only saw Missy at Mass. I’ve never been so happy that Missy sits in the front of the church as I was that Sunday. I used to sit there, too—right between skinny Missy and her far-from-skinny mom—but, nowadays, I sit with Chase where he feels most comfortable, in the back pews.
So the first week of Operation Avoid-Missy was a breeze.
The following two weeks, right up until today, running into Missy wasn’t even a concern. Sh
e was down in Virginia visiting with her dad. He moved away years ago, following his breakup with Missy’s mom.
But clearly, my successful run of avoiding Missy has come to an end. She’s obviously back from her trip out of town. And it’s not like I can turn around and run away, even though I long to do exactly that. And I don’t do anything of the kind.
Instead, I offer up a cheery “Hey, Missy” as I slip around the opposite side of the desk from where she is seated.
I put my purse in a drawer, sit down, and with a fake smile in place, inquire, “So, how was Virginia?”
Missy fidgets nervously with the scalloped-edge of her blouse sleeve. “It was good,” she drawls, eyes down. “Dad’s doing okay. Still loves to bitch about Mom, of course.” She glances up and gives me a little roll of her eyes. “You’d think after all the years that have gone by, he’d move on. But…guess not.”
I really don’t know how to respond, so I just nod once.
Silence descends and the awkwardness between us increases tenfold. “Uh”—I move some random papers around on my desk—“I really have a lot to do this afternoon, Missy. I’m glad you’re back and all, but I should probably—”
“Look, Kay,” she interrupts, “I know you hate me now that you know about the…stuff that happened between me and Chase.”
I flinch, thinking, Stuff? This woman blew my boyfriend, and he fingered her to orgasm, twice. Ugh.
“But we still have to work together,” Missy continues, oblivious to my thoughts. “The rummage sale is coming up in August. And Father Maridale has already said he expects us to work on it together.”
“I know.” I sigh, resigned.
What Missy is saying is true; we do have to work together. Maybe it’s time I get over my jealousy, especially with something that occurred before I even knew Chase. I can hold on to this forever, or I can move on. I feel like I’ve been making progress on the forgiveness front, so I let it go.
“For the record, Missy,” I say, “I don’t hate you.”
Missy plucks at a wrinkle in her skirt. “I wouldn’t blame you if you did,” she mumbles. “I should have told you when you first started dating Chase. I guess I just didn’t know how to bring something like that up. If it helps, the things he and I did that night meant nothing, I swear.”