Secrets in a Small Town

by Kimberly Van Meter

  “Funny how?” he asked, trying to appear calm when, in fact, he was trembling with the effort.

  “I don’t know but—” she swallowed, admitting “—it’s a bit unnerving.”

  He didn’t know how much longer he could stand. His foreman, Wesley, hollered at him and he was glad to have a plausible escape. “Duty calls,” he muttered, not waiting for her reaction. He didn’t care if he seemed abrupt. He needed a little distance so he could think straight again. All the blood had drained from his head to detour south, and it’d be a miracle if he could walk at all.

  PIPER WATCHED AS OWEN WALKED away stiffly and she let her gaze roam. She supposed if she had to pick someone to take her virginity, Owen Garrett wasn’t a bad way to go. A hot flush followed the thought and she covered a grin. No, he wasn’t bad at all. She just wished she remembered all of it. Timber ambled over to her and she gave him a good scratch on the top of the head. Good dog, solid—just like Owen. She couldn’t imagine Owen packing around a Chihuahua. She sighed and tucked her camera away with her notepad, leaving without saying goodbye. She had enough on her mind; she didn’t need to compound matters by lingering.

  She arrived at the office, filed her photos, turned in cutlines and quickly pounded out the story, but as she reread her work, she found it lacking in spirit.

  An image of her mother, spitting hatred and vitriol toward Owen, made her frown. Why did Coral despise him so much? Her feelings seemed to go a little deeper than the environmental angle. A general sense of unease settled in Piper’s bones as she made the decision to talk to her parents about her feelings.

  And about their connection to Red Meadows.

  GRETCHEN SAT AT HER DESK, chewing a hangnail that had snagged her attention. She’d waited for Owen to come home last night but he’d hardly said two words to her before he closeted himself away in his bedroom. His dark expression just before he’d disappeared had kept her from bothering him but somehow she knew that damn reporter was the root of the problem. She hissed in pain when the skin tore as she pulled the hangnail too quickly, ripping into the soft surrounding skin. She shook out her hand then popped it into her mouth to stem the bleeding.

  She imagined Piper was at the site with Owen because of those stupid tree-huggers and it made her feel left out to be the only one sitting at the office. Not to mention, every noise made her jump out of her chair, afraid that Danny had shown up after all. A twinge in her back made her suck in a sharp breath until she massaged it away. She was too early for labor but the familiar feeling made her wary. She’d been laid up with back labor with Quinn for hours. It’d been excruciating and she was hoping this baby wasn’t going to emulate her big sister with her method of arrival.

  The sound of a truck pulling up had her lifting from her chair in the hopes that Owen had returned, but no such luck. She sat with a disappointed frown when she saw it was only Timothy, Owen’s top faller. The man wasn’t much of a conversationalist, particularly around her and he had a tendency to stare a bit. It made her uncomfortable. She withheld a sigh and offered a smile for the sake of being pleasant when he came in.

  “Everything all right?” Timothy asked, glancing around the office as if checking for the boogeyman, suspicious of every shadow. “Owen said he wanted me to check on you.”

  She warmed at Owen’s concern. “That’s so sweet of him. I’m fine. Just a little hungry is all,” she added, mostly to make small talk but also because it was the truth. She’d forgotten to pack a snack and now her stomach was growling.

  Without a word, Timothy turned on his heel and left. She blinked and frowned after him. What a strange man. So quiet. She wondered if she wanted to know what was happening behind that quiet facade. Likely not. In her experience, what went on in a man’s brain wasn’t something a woman needed to know. Although she wished she’d had some inkling as to how rotten Danny was behind that false smile and oozing charm. A tear escaped and she wiped at it, irritated at herself for allowing such self-pity. She’d made her bed, she’d find a way to climb out of it.

  The door opened and Timothy returned with a red apple in his hand. He offered it to her with that dark-eyed stare that unnerved her. “S’all I got in the truck but it’s fresh. Just put it there this morning,” he said. “You shouldn’t let your blood sugar drop. Here, take it.”

  She accepted the apple, unsure of what to do in the face of the unexpected gesture. She tried a tentative but genuine smile for his thoughtfulness. “Are you sure, Timothy? You work far harder than me…you sure you won’t miss it?”

  “I’ll be fine.”

  “Okay,” she said, rising to wash it off and cut it into manageable pieces. “But you have to at least share it with me. I wouldn’t feel right otherwise.” He shrugged as if agreeing but his eyes seemed to rest on her belly before rising to meet her questioning gaze. “What?” she asked, smoothing her hand over her stomach in a defensive motion. Why did he have to stare at her like that?

  “Nothing,” he said, looking away. “You feel all right?”

  “My back hurts a little,” she admitted, though why she didn’t know. She managed a light laugh as she handed him a few apple slices on a paper towel as she returned to her seat. “I think it’s this office chair. Not great for my growing behind,” she said with a self-deprecating chuckle.

  “Nothing wrong with your behind,” he said, then seemed to blush when he realized what he’d said aloud. “All’s I’m saying is that…I don’t know, it seems fine to me. Good. Nice. Whatever, you know.”

  Now it was her turn to blush. Had he just called her fat butt nice? Danny had always poked and pinched at her thickening body as her pregnancy had progressed, snickering and making fun of her burgeoning belly. She risked a glance at Timothy. “Thank you. Feels good to hear even if you’re just being polite,” she said to him, giving him an out but he didn’t take it. In fact, he seemed even more determined to heap compliments her way. Well, compliments Timothy Knox-style.

  “Everything about you is bigger,” he said, his stare drawn to her breasts that had indeed tripled in size since the beginning of her pregnancy. That had happened when she was carrying Quinn, too. “It’s nice. Real pretty, you know? Women are supposed to be soft and curvy.”

  She chuckled, admitting sadly. “Danny said I was turning into a fat cow.”

  At the mention of her ex, Timothy’s stare darkened and his mouth tightened as he said, “He’s an idiot. If he comes near you or Quinn…” As if he’d realized he’d said too much, he tossed an apple slice in his mouth and mumbled a quick goodbye. Then he was gone.

  Frowning, she stared after Timothy’s truck as it pulled onto the highway.

  She’d known Timothy for a year, almost right around the time she’d met Danny. He’d never opened his mouth around her until recently. Yet, she sensed something deeper beyond that hard faller’s usual expression. And the feelings it evoked confused her.

  Timothy Knox?

  She bit into the apple, wiping away the sweet juice as it dribbled down her chin.

  He wasn’t her type. She could count on her hand the number of times he’d actually spoken to her before today. They seemed polar opposites. She liked to laugh and have a good time; he seemed to always hold himself apart from all the noise. No, he wasn’t the kind of guy she would even notice under most circumstances.

  Yet…he’d given her an apple from his own lunch even though fallers had one of the toughest, most physically demanding jobs in the entire operation. His concern had been her blood sugar.

  She sat in quiet reflection for a long moment. It appeared there was more to Timothy than she knew.

  Sad, but she’d never dated a man who put her feelings above his own. Her eyes moist, she rubbed at her stinging nose and thought of Quinn and her new daughter and wondered how she was ever going to teach her girls to look for men who will love them, instead of belittle them, when she hadn’t found much luck in that department for herself. She sniffed at the tears that rolled down her cheek, annoyed at the s
how of self-pity but the tears kept falling. Damn hormones. She always turned into a weepy mess when she was pregnant. Owen, bless his heart, pretended not to notice but she knew it was hard to miss when he caught her sobbing over the fax machine because it had eaten her last fax. His answer had been to replace the fax machine, saying the office was due a new one anyway.

  Owen was a good man, no doubt. Which was why she wanted to keep that toxic reporter away from him. Trouble was, that reporter seemed intent on being around Owen and that made Gretchen grouchy.

  Owen was so good with Quinn. He treated her as a father should with strength tempered by kindness. Gretchen paused a moment to fully consider that thought. She’d known Owen for a while now but she’d never tried to attract his eye for she knew he was consumed by the job and besides, it never seemed prudent to keeping your job by messing with the boss. But, there was no doubt, he’d make an excellent father figure for Quinn. If only Owen had ever looked twice at her before she was pregnant, she might have something to build on. Now, she was seriously handicapped in the seduction department. Wallowing in self-pity and wondering what to do with her life, she wished she could snap her fingers and fix the royal mess she’d made with her litany of bad choices.

  Her bladder sent a painful zing, reminding her that a tiny baby was using it as trampoline, and she waddled slowly to the bathroom. As she washed her hands, she caught her reflection in the mirror and made a face at what she saw. Everything seemed swollen. No wonder Danny couldn’t stand to look at her. Timothy’s bald appreciation of her curves came back to her and she wondered at what he saw. She was easily packing an extra twenty pounds on her frame including her pregnancy weight—an unfortunate side effect of her penchant for rocky road ice cream—and her face had lost the sharpness of her teenage years, rounding out a bit, particularly so now with the baby weight piling on. She tentatively cupped her breasts and groaned at how they overfilled her hands like giant melons. How could anyone find this attractive? Maybe Danny was right…there was no such thing as pleasantly plump. More tears threatened to fill her eyes but she wiped them away with determination. She’d be damned if she was going to sit here, curled up like a teenager at the prom bawling her eyes out because her date left her for someone else. She didn’t have the luxury. There was work to be done and if she was good at nothing else, she was excellent at keeping Big Trees Logging moving in the right direction.

  She was halfway to her desk when her back twinged again.

  This time hard enough to take her breath away.

  “Ohhh,” she gasped when she could draw air in her lungs. “That one really hurt…” She touched her stomach and found it hard as a walnut. She knew that feeling.

  Oh, no…it can’t be…

  The next spasm created a band of fire around her belly and she knew there was no denying it—she was in preterm labor and alone.

  Now, she realized, would be a good time to cry.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  PIPER WALKED INTO HER PARENTS’ house, comforted by the familiar sounds and smells that she’d come to associate with safety and security but her nerves had progressively worsened from when she’d pulled into the driveway to the moment she stepped over the threshold.

  Her parents were hiding something and she had a feeling it was terrible, which was in direct odds with everything she’d ever known her parents to be.

  They weren’t deceitful people. They were painfully and embarrassingly honest and blunt, particularly about things that made other people blush or uncomfortable, such as sexuality, politics and religion.

  So what could they be hiding?

  She pushed a sizeable lump down her throat, recognizing it as fear but she didn’t turn around and skip out, even though the idea became more appealing the closer she came to the answers she sought.

  Her father saw her first and the giant smile wreathing his face as he watered his prized roses broke her heart just a little. Maybe she should ask another time. The answers could wait. No, another voice said sternly, steering her straight to the patio chair and depositing her firmly. Get this over with. You’re a professional. Act like one. Pretend they’re not your parents and get the answers you need.

  Right. Not her parents.

  “Hey, peanut,” Jasper called out as he adjusted the water stream to the gentle rain setting. “Fancy seeing you here. I think there’s some tofu balls in the fridge if you’re hungry.”

  Coral came from the garden shed with her shears and smiled brightly when she saw her. “Did you get a good picture?” she asked, referencing the tree-sit. “I hope you got one that accurately depicts the righteous anger and sense of indignity at the injustice—”

  “I got a decent picture,” she said, cutting her mother off, impatient to get to the real reason for her visit before she chickened out. “We need to talk.”

  At her seriousness, they both stopped and gave her their utmost attention, which is what they always did when she made dramatic declarative statements. But no doubt, they weren’t expecting what was going to pop from her mouth today.

  “What is it?” Coral asked, concerned. “You look all bound up like you’ve eaten a block of cheese for breakfast. We have fresh prunes…”

  “I don’t need prunes, Coral,” she retorted, newly irritated. “What I need is straight answers from the people who always professed to be honest with me.”

  Coral and Jasper exchanged looks, but Piper couldn’t tell if the look was conspiratorial in nature, as in our-goose-is-cooked or confused because their ordinarily easygoing daughter was going all psychobitchy on them without provocation. “Why didn’t you tell me you were at Red Meadows?” she asked, throwing it out on the table like a big, stinky dead fish. Funny, her parents’ reaction seemed appropriately aghast as if she had indeed thrown a cod their way.

  “What are you talking about?” Jasper asked, twisting the valve so the water trickled to a stop. “Who told you this?”

  “Classic deflection. Nice try,” she said, refusing to allow her love for them to soften her questioning. “A good source has informed me that you and Coral were, in fact, at Red Meadows when the raid happened, which oddly, is something you’ve failed to mention in all the times I’ve asked you about Red Meadows.”

  Coral’s smile faded to something ghastly as her cheeks lost the color from the sunshine and turned an ugly, unhealthy hue that made her look years older. Instead of answering, she turned a baleful eye on Jasper and said in a tone that Piper had never heard her mother use, “I told you she wouldn’t stop,” she hissed, letting the shears drop with a dull thud to the grass. She jerked her gardening gloves from her fingers and held them tightly in her palm. “I knew this day would come. I said I wanted to send her to New York to spend time with your awful sister but you assured me everything would be fine. Well, it’s not.” She stalked past a stunned Piper and disappeared into the house, closing the sliding-glass door so hard Piper thought the glass might shatter. She whipped around to stare after her mother, unable to process what had just happened. She returned to her father, whose usually sparkly eyes were dull, and fear came crashing down on her. Maybe she wasn’t ready to know what happened.

  “Dad?” she ventured, unsure of what to say in the face of her mother’s freak-out. “What’s going on?”

  In all her years, she’d never seen her father look so haggard, so ashamed. “Why are you doing this?” he asked, his voice miserable. “Haven’t I told you how much pain is associated with Red Meadows? This town wants to forget, not dig it back up again.”

  “William Dearborn is dead,” she said. “Killed like Mimi LaRoche. Someone committed murder then and someone is doing it now. What if they’re the same person and they’re getting away with it?”

  At the mention of William and Mimi, Jasper’s eyes clouded and a mournful sound escaped him. “How’d William die?” he asked.

  “Shot in the back of the head, execution style. Nothing was taken, or stolen, which rules out robbery, but it seems highly suspicious that shor
tly after William shared with me certain details about Red Meadows, he ends up dead.”

  Jasper looked at her sharply. “What kind of details?”

  “I’m not at liberty to share at the moment,” she said, unable to believe she was giving her father the common line she gave strangers when she wanted them to stop fishing for information that only she was privy to. His mouth pinched at her answer, clearly unhappy with her evasion. “What’s going on? Is there something I should know? What was Coral talking about? I get the sense that you two are hiding something terrible and it’s really freaking me out.”

  “You should be wary of the information given to you by William. He wasn’t right in the head. That’s why Olivia left him. She was afraid for Farley’s safety.”

  She drew back. “Was he violent?”

  “He was a different man back at Red Meadows.”

  “Sounds like he wasn’t the only one,” she retorted, frustrated with her father’s evasive answers. She wasn’t getting far and she needed more. “Help me to understand why my parents were living at a racist compound when they are plainly, at least to my knowledge, the furthest thing from racists that a person can be.”

  “It was a different time and we were different people, like so many at Red Meadows. Ty Garrett was—”

  “Working with the FBI to bring down the Aryan Coalition,” she supplied hotly, righteous anger for a man she never knew, for the son he’d been forced to leave behind bubbled to the surface. “And he took a bullet meant for his son. What do you know about that?”

  “Again, if your information is coming from William, I’d say it’s unreliable, at best, and grossly misleading, at worst. Ty Garrett wasn’t a hero.”