Indivisible

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Indivisible Page 21

by Kristen Heitzmann


  He looked from it to her.

  “A thank-you for the pups. Since you’ve collected Tia’s work, I thought …” Again she lost what she had thought.

  He took the package, untied the ribbon, and let the paper fall away. The aspen leaves cascaded in a spiral to the bottom of the candle, just the way they swirled to the ground in an autumn breeze.

  “Do you like it?”

  “It’s great. But, Liz, you took care of Enola—”

  She shrugged a shoulder. “I just wanted you to have it. Tia didn’t know you liked candles. Hers, I mean. She said she couldn’t imagine that you’d want one.”

  His brow lowered. “You told her?”

  “Was it a secret? They look so nice.” She looked past the café counter to the main room mantel, then turned back, heart rushing. This was what she’d come for. “She’s the one, isn’t she? The one you can’t get over?”

  His face darkened dangerously. “I’m not sure what we’re doing here.”

  “I’m saying I know, Jonah, and it’s all right.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  But he did. “You said we could start something, but it wouldn’t be fair because I didn’t know about Tia. Now I do. I understand, and I don’t care.”

  He jammed his hand through his hair. “That was … a bad day. I shouldn’t have said any of it.”

  “Why? You found a better choice? Sarge’s nurse, maybe?”

  He stiffened. “That’s enough.”

  “Jonah, I know you. I get it. We have … so much in common.”

  “Liz.”

  “You loved two sisters, and I—”

  He raised his hands, palms out at her. “I need you to stop. I can’t deal with this now.” His flinty face was all sharp edges.

  This wasn’t the man she’d seen hurting by the creek, who’d come to her for help, who’d needed her. He was a stranger, a liar, a thief. He had stolen her trust and thrown it back. She snatched the candle from his hands and pushed past him out the door.

  He stood, fists clenched, until a hand on his arm released the tension.

  “Jonah?”

  When he turned, Lauren searched his face.

  “Bad news?”

  He controlled his breathing with difficulty.

  “Do you need to sit?” The nurse taking charge.

  “No.”

  Her touch was gentle, her expression caring. They had shared a few meals around his table, cooking for her the least he could do after putting Sarge through his paces.

  “I take it that wasn’t your girlfriend.”

  “I don’t have a girlfriend.”

  “Your former fiancée?”

  “Not even close.”

  Her gray-green eyes shimmered like shady pools. He could imagine her as the enchantress Tia had read aloud from Malory’s tales, enamored with knights and kings and magic. He’d gladly be enchanted, beguiled, bewitched, even betrayed if it meant an end.

  “Your pulse is racing.”

  When had the anger kicked in? When he pictured Liz in Tia’s shop, describing the whole pitiful scene, and Tia wondering why he’d sent someone to buy candles for his home, surrounding himself with parts of her. Pathetic.

  And Liz. He pressed a hand to his face.

  “Can I help?” Lauren held his arm.

  “No, I don’t think so.”

  “You don’t have to do everything alone.”

  “Well, it’s a lot smarter that way.”

  “Smarter? Or safer.”

  He expelled his breath. “Yeah, that.”

  The scent of butterscotch from the waxed pine cones mingled with the wood fire was one of the best mood-setting aromas she knew. Tia glanced over at Piper curled up on the opposite end of the settee with a novel. Tia would have liked to read, loved reading, but she couldn’t find solace in imagination now. It was time to face reality.

  The doorbell rang. Piper pried her eyes from the page. “Are you expecting someone?”

  “No.” Tia got up and opened the door to the last person she would have imagined. “Liz?” She looked from the woman to the candle she held. “Is something wrong?”

  “I want my money back.”

  Tia stared for a moment as a chill crawled up her back. “This is my house, not my store. How did you—”

  “Jonah didn’t like it.”

  Oh, the irony. “Why don’t you just come by the …”

  “I paid twenty-eight dollars plus tax.” Liz looked past her at Piper.

  Irritation rose, lacing the words, “That included the melts for your sister. Do you have your receipt?”

  “No, I don’t.”

  “You know what? Never mind. Let me get my purse.”

  “Tia?” Piper sent her a disbelieving glance.

  What difference did it make? As she moved toward the mud room where she kept her sling-back purse, she heard Liz saying, “Why are you here?”

  And Piper, “I live here.”

  This was surreal. Tia took out a twenty and a ten. Liz had stayed at the open door, and the cold that swirled in around her might have emanated from the woman’s body. Tia handed over the money, feeling invaded.

  Liz thrust the candle at her. “He told me he wasn’t over you, but he is.”

  Tia drew the candle to her chest. “I could have told you that.”

  “He has someone there, right now.”

  “That’s not my business. Or yours.”

  Something shifted in the woman’s face. “When we first met, I wanted to be friends.” A fleeting poignancy touched her voice. “Before I knew.”

  “Knew?”

  “What you’d done to him. How you’ve wounded him.”

  Tia swallowed. “Well, that’s what we do best.” She probably should have held her tongue.

  Liz’s eyes narrowed. “Are you so hateful?”

  Apparently. “I’m sorry I’ve offended you.”

  One nostril and the side of Liz’s mouth flickered up. “You would have to matter to offend me.”

  Tia barked a soft laugh. “Okay. We’re done here.” She closed the door.

  “What was that?” Piper half whispered.

  Tia rubbed her temples. “Fallout.”

  Piper grabbed her shoulders. “You have to tell him.”

  “Who?”

  “Jonah.”

  “Tell him what? His scorned girlfriend whacked out on me because he’s with someone else?”

  “Tell him she’s … weird.”

  Tia’s mouth pulled. “I imagine he knows. And so what? You know what I think, Piper? Everyone’s weird. Everyone’s got stuff. She was just hurting enough to let hers show.”

  Early the next morning, Liz watched Tia set out. To the mountain, of course, passing through the chilly mist like a wraith. Pressed into the side of the house next to Tia’s, Liz stared after her. She’d heard from Catrin Draper, whose chocolate lab, Monster, had required forty stitches, that Tia had been lost in the storm on that mountain. Lost and injured. Only a sprain, Catrin assured her. “But I’d have been terrified. Mountains are not forgiving.”

  Neither were people. Confronted with Jonah’s pain, Tia had not even defended herself. Wounding each other was what they did best. Liz clenched her hands. She’d called it hateful, but could there be anything more honest? Could it be that bare honesty that drew her again and again to the woman she wanted to despise?

  Appearing through the mist where the trail bent back around, Tia stopped, leaned her head back, and stretched out her arms, a mythical being who stood for long beats of the heart as the fog passed over and around her like tattered gauze. When Tia slowly raised her head and lowered her hands, Liz breathed, as though released from a trance, and saw only a woman climbing farther up the mountain.

  After a long day including two domestic calls, Jonah exited the courthouse with a warrant to question a punk who’d been peddling crank at the middle and high school. With any luck they’d tie him to Caldwell or Greggor or both. He was ready to get home,
but when he reached his vehicle, Ruth’s voice came over the radio. “Jonah, you know I hate to pile on.”

  “Go ahead.”

  “We had a 911. I think you’ll want to respond.”

  “What is it?”

  “The address is your mother’s.”

  “Medical?”

  “EMTs are en route. Sounds like a heart attack. I’m sorry.”

  “Who called?”

  “Laraine called it in herself, but she collapsed in the process.”

  He put the Bronco in gear, hit the lights, and took off. He had not seen this coming, but who ever did? He activated his Bluetooth and called Jay. “I might be tied up awhile. Can you check in on Sarge and Enola?”

  “I’m not sure I can get away.”

  “Then don’t worry about it. They’ve got to make friends at some point.”

  “What’s going on?”

  “My mother’s had a heart attack.” Strange it should come now. Why not during all the years of heartbreak? Except it was never really her heart breaking.

  “You’re going over?”

  “She’s my mother.”

  “Don’t take this wrong, Jonah.”

  He braced himself. “But what?”

  “Is it in her best interest?”

  “You mean, will I make her worse?”

  “To put it bluntly.”

  Jonah considered that. “I’m not sure who else she has. I don’t want her to be alone.”

  “No, you should go. But remember, if a circle tries to bend too far, it’s no longer a circle.”

  “Where do you get this stuff?”

  Jay didn’t laugh. “Just remember who you are.”

  And also, as Sarge had said, who he never wanted to be. At his family home, more than anywhere, the lines blurred. He saw himself in the old man and the old man in him. It was like the story Jay had told amid the sweats and potions.

  “There is a fight going on inside of you, a fight between two hungry wolves. One wolf is fear, envy, sorrow and regret, greed, spite, arrogance, and self-pity. It is guilt, resentment, false pride, superiority, ego, and unfaithfulness. The other wolf is joy, peace, love, hope, humility, kindness, and forgiveness. It is integrity, benevolence, friendship, empathy, generosity, truth, compassion, and faithfulness. The fight goes on and on, each one trying for control. Which wolf wins? It is the one you feed.”

  He reached his mother’s house and parked beside the ambulance. The team was inside, and Jonah joined them. Curtains were drawn, making the house dim. Stacks of mail and magazines covered most surfaces, cups and dishes on the corners of tables and lining the counters. He moved through the rooms to her enclosed porch where his mother lay on the brick-red pavers. She was conscious, pale, and trembling, wearing a blood pressure cuff, finger monitor, and oxygen.

  She said, “What are you doing here? It’s not Sunday.” Splotches appeared on her cheeks.

  “How’re you doing, Mom?” When she didn’t answer, he asked the EMT, Mack Dougal.

  “Pulse is thready.”

  “I shouldn’t have to put up with you more than one day a week. Shouldn’t have to do it then.” The clear plastic mask fogged.

  “Take it easy, Mom,” Jonah murmured.

  “Easy,” she snarled, her irregular heart tones increasing.

  Jay had been right to worry. Jonah knew the team, knew she would receive the care she needed. He stepped back. “You’re in good hands.”

  “No.” She gripped her left arm until the flesh turned white. “You made sure I’d never be.” This conversation would dredge up old suspicions. The EMTs were friends of a sort, but that wouldn’t stop them spreading it.

  Jonah caught Mack’s eye and read his rising concern.

  “Let’s move,” Mack said. “Riding along?”

  He shook his head. “I’ll follow separately.”

  “Don’t,” his mother hissed.

  Her rancor had steeped in resentment and curdled with rage. The wolf she had fed was sated, and it looked out at him now. He started to shake, seeing in her eyes what he’d seen that night, when he’d staggered back, spattered with blood and more. As they wheeled her into the back of the bus and pulled the doors closed behind them, his hands clenched.

  He locked the house, intending to get into his vehicle. Instead, he moved around to the back and stared at the shed. An agony of fear and loathing seized him. His legs moved forward like mechanical shanks he couldn’t control. He wrenched open the door and smelled or imagined the rank odor.

  Wood spiders had woven netting across the ceiling. Crackling black-widow webs clogged the lower corners. But his mind skipped over his childhood fears and centered on the steamer trunk near the back, the black stains thick with dust.

  The former police chief materialized, standing tall, legs spread, hands on hips. “I told you to walk away.”

  “You know I can’t.”

  “We stick together on these things. That’s the first rule I taught you.”

  “Stacie Williams is dead.”

  “A drunken pothead got out of control.”

  “You took the call and went out to the party. When Stacie got belligerent you arrested her, put her in your car.”

  “Blah-blah-blah.”

  “You stopped a mile and a half from the arrest location.”

  “She got sick. I let her out of the car, unfastened the cuffs so she didn’t fall on her face when she puked. It’s all in the file.”

  “I ran a rape kit.”

  “You what?”

  “One of the samples matched your DNA.”

  His glare was not ice; it was nitrous oxide. He knew better than to argue DNA, given the rest of the story. So he justified. “She wanted a deal.”

  “Sex for leniency?” He couldn’t keep the disgust from his voice.

  His father’s nostrils flared. “You think you’re better than I am.”

  “I need your service revolver, Dad.”

  “You don’t know when to quit.”

  “You taught me that.” He held out his hand. “Your gun.”

  With a low growl, the chief removed the gun from the holster and held it out grip first. “So you’re the big shot now. Think you can do the job better than your old man. You’ll see how the mighty fall.”

  Jonah took the weapon and, as he removed the clip, his father reached back for the shotgun, chambered a shell. For an instant Jonah believed his father would kill him.

  But Stan Westfall rammed it under his own chin and pulled the trigger. Choking with shock and splatter, Jonah staggered back, ears ringing.Horror engulfed him with the smell of death, his mother’s screams splitting the night.

  Remembering, Jonah’s legs gave way. He dropped to his knees in the silent musty space and stared at the dirty sunshine spilling over the floor where his father had fallen. He tasted bile. He’d hated the man, and yet …

  Twenty-Two

  Perseverance is more prevailing than violence; and many things which cannot be overcome when they are together, yield themselves up when taken little by little.

  —PLUTARCH, LIFE OF SERTORIUS

  Tia locked the shop and walked home. Her early morning trek and a day at the store had brought clarity. Entering the house through the mud room, she looked for and found Piper in the kitchen, sucking honey off her finger. “Miles would be horrified.”

  Piper giggled, turned to the sink, and scrubbed. “What he doesn’t know can’t hurt him.” She stirred the tea, then sipped. “Perfect.”

  Tia threaded her fingers through her unruly hair. “I’m leaving town for a while. I don’t want anyone to think I’ve been abducted or gotten lost in the mountains or dissected.”

  Piper paused with the cup almost to her lips. “Anyone meaning me?”

  “I’m pretty sure if you don’t worry, no one else will.”

  “Hey. Every time I’ve called for help, you needed it.”

  “This time I’m going to be fine.” She kept the tremor from her voice. This would be harder
and riskier and probably more painful than a crippling injury on a mountain. “I’ll be gone a few days, max.”

  “Do I get to know where you’re going?”

  “Arizona.”

  “You’re going to see your sister?” Piper’s excitement lit her eyes. “I’m going to try. Amanda’s watching the shop, but you’ll have to hold down the home front.”

  “I think I can manage. Do you need a ride to the airport?”

  “I’m driving.”

  “Now? It’s almost dark.”

  “Great invention, headlights.”

  Giggling, Piper set down the cup. “Will you call when you get there?”

  “Sure.” Tia laughed.

  “Are you telling Jonah?”

  She sighed. “Let it go, sweetie.”

  Piper stretched out her arms and hugged her. “Be careful, okay?”

  Tia hugged her back. “I’ll see you soon.”

  “I’ll be here.”

  “Good. Because you know I’m not letting you go, right?” Piper laughed. “Right.”

  She packed quickly, some overnight things and a couple of changes. She would drive it straight and face things in the morning. With as little rest as she’d had the last week, she ought to be exhausted. Instead, she felt as though she were waking from a very long sleep.

  In the foggy glow of the street lantern outside the bay window, Piper saw Jonah exit his Bronco and approach the house as though someone had blown the ground out from under him. She wrenched open the door, rasping, “Is it Tia?”

  He stopped, confused.

  She pressed a hand to her racing heart. “Did her car crash?”

  He frowned. “She’s not here?”

  Piper collapsed against the door frame. “She drove to Phoenix.”

  He blinked, the news adding weight to his shoulders. Even all ragged edges, he was still a million bucks plus tax. He wore calamity like cologne, evoking not sympathy but a primal feminine instinct to attach and defend.

  “When did she go?”

  “A couple hours ago. I think she’s trying to make up with her family.” The lines deepened between his brows. “You could call her cell.”

  He shook his head.

  “I could call for you.”

  “No, don’t bother her.”

 

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