Rose Gardner 01 - Twenty-Eight and a Half Wishes

by Swank, Denise Grover

  The irony is that in the end, you were the only one who stayed with me. Your daddy’s body may have died last year, but his spirit died years ago, his body just waiting to catch up. Violet, she left to marry Mike as soon as she got a chance and I hardly saw her after that.

  But you, Rose, you were there for me, taking care of me in spite of all my meanness. I watched you sometimes when you weren’t looking, amazed at the gentleness of your spirit and even though I beat it down as often as I could, I envied it. You had what I never did.

  I should have told you about your mother a long time ago, but I was afraid if I did, I’d lose you, too. You’re all I had left.

  Believe it or not, I do love you.

  Momma

  Hearing Aunt Bessie read Momma’s letter was the first time I ever heard Momma say she loved me. I began to sob. And didn't stop until well into the night.

  Mike slept in Ashley’s room and Violet and I clung to each other, crying in her bed. I had no idea what Violet cried for. Did she feel guilty for hurting Momma? For choosing me over her? I cried for never getting the chance to know the momma who wrote that letter, all the years lost to her pain and pride. And I cried for her. I couldn't imagine the pain she must have endured forced to face me every day, rubbing her nose in the fact she would forever be second choice, Dora’s leftovers.

  When I finally fell asleep, long after Violet, I cried for me, and all I would miss and all I would lose. It wasn’t fair. Life wasn’t fair. But then again, I’d learned that lesson a long, long time ago.

  Courtesy of Momma.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Aunt Bessie left after Violet and I went to bed, but not before she told Mike she had all the papers for everything left to me in the will.

  And that I was a millionaire.

  The next morning I sipped hot coffee trying to clear the fogginess in my head when Mike announced I had more money than God. That’s not what he actually said, and technically it wasn’t true since I only had $1.5 million, but it might as well have been a trillion. I didn't understand how it could be possible, but Mike said Uncle Earl and Aunt Bessie were the executors of Dora’s estate. Daddy didn’t want to deal with it, so Uncle Earl took over and had a knack for investing. He had cashed in the oil stock, made some smart investments, and more than quadrupled my worth over the years. That amount didn't even include Dora’s parents’ farm. And to imagine I’d been worrying I’d be homeless when Momma left everything to Violet. I supposed the right thing to do would be to give half to Violet. She planned to do the same with Momma’s possessions. But why waste time on the details of half when I’d leave everything to her anyway?

  I hadn’t brought dog food for Muffy and eggs had turned out to be a fiasco the other night. I really didn’t want to be alone and it turned out, neither did Violet. We agreed I’d leave Muffy there and run home, shower then come back to spend the day with Violet and the kids.

  A few blocks from my house, the convertible sputtered and coughed such thick plumes of black smoke into the air I worried the EPA would swoop in and contain me and the car at any moment. Instead, it died, right there on the curb.

  So today wasn’t my lucky day, either.

  I walked the last few blocks, hot and sweaty by the time I got home. It was only midmorning and already burning up outside. I nearly drained a glass of ice water before calling the rental company to let them know where the car had died. I told them I’d be in later to pick up my old one. I’d had my fun. I didn't need it anymore.

  Violet fed Muffy some hotdogs before I left (after I told her the consequenting results were her full responsibility) but it meant I didn’t have to hurry back. I had planned on a shower but decided a bath sounded better, especially since I needed some time to mull over the events of the previous night. After I refilled my glass with more ice and water, I set it on the bathroom counter and climbed into the steaming bath. I leaned my head against the porcelain edge, hoping my pain would seep into the warm water. I knew that was too much to expect, so for now, I’d settle for skimming some off the top.

  I lay there, dozing off, when I heard a noise in the kitchen. I jerked upright and sloshed the water in the bathtub. The sounds stopped.

  Someone was in my house. And heard me.

  I climbed out of the tub, shaking with fear, unsure what to do, but trying not to splash any more water. I was naked in my bathroom and my clothes were in the bedroom. Should I lock the door? The doors were thin; it wouldn’t take much to break it in. Whatever I decided to do, I needed to do it fast.

  I grabbed the towel lying on the toilet seat, wiped the water off the floor, and closed the shower curtain halfway, hoping to hide the water in the tub. The door to the hall stood slightly ajar. Footsteps were moving my direction.

  Fighting my rising hysteria, I opened the linen closet door and slipped in, carefully closing the door. I clutched the wet towel to my chest and over my mouth, trying to stifle my gasps for air. The bathroom door creaked open and footsteps thudded on the tile floor. Then stopped. The person could open the closet door at any moment. I tried to hold my breath, scared of being heard. Then I remember the glass of water. If they saw the ice, they would know I was somewhere in the house.

  A million thoughts raced through my head. Whoever it was would find me naked, right before raping and murdering me. Surely, I was safe since my vision told me I wasn't supposed to die until Sunday. That knowledge gave me little consolation, trapped in a closet where old memories spewed into my head, reminding me of the hours spent locked in the dark.

  Just when I thought I would give myself away with an outburst of hysterical crying, the person walked out of the bathroom. Chill bumps spread across my skin and water dripped off my body as noises came from my bedroom. Objects crashed and drawers and doors slammed. The sounds moved farther away, and I guessed the person had moved into Momma’s room. I wasn't sure how much longer I would last before my claustrophobic frenzy overcame me. Loud swearing and banging moved into the hall adding to my anxiety. It sounded like the intruder hit the other side of the closet wall. The sheetrock vibrated violently, and the wooden shelves jabbed into my back, scraping against my skin. I couldn't contain the cry that escaped from pain, but I hoped the towel muffled the sound.

  I discovered the intruder was a man from the vulgarities he spewed—about me and life in general—as he made his way back into the kitchen. I heard items flying in all directions and the ricochet of something metal bouncing off the vinyl floor. More cursing followed. It was obvious the man hadn’t found what he was looking for.

  I listened to the full-out assault on my kitchen, unable to contain my panic. I covered my face with the towel, wadded up extra-thick and sobbed as quietly as I possibly could.

  The noise stopped. Hiccups shook my shoulders, and I bumped into the closet door with a bang.

  Footsteps moved back down the hall.

  I needed a plan. I wasn’t about to let someone kill me, standing naked in the linen closet. But my choice of weapons was sadly lacking. All I had was a wet towel. And my fingernails. I’d gouge his eyes out, then he couldn't see me naked.

  I had no idea how one went about gouging a person’s eyeballs out but I supposed it had to be done. Too bad I just got a manicure the day before.

  I wasn’t sure what to do with the towel. Drop it? I needed both hands since he had two eyes. Unless he had an eye patch, which seemed doubtful. But he’d see me naked. Then again, if I was going to blind him maybe I should give him something worth seeing for his last view. I couldn't bring myself to do it though, stand naked in front of a strange man. I bit the towel in my teeth and held my hands out in a claw like stance, somewhat reminding me of a velociraptor ready to attack.

  The click of heels on the tile floor alerted me to his entrance into the bathroom. They made a dull thud, the sound Mike’s boots made on Violet’s kitchen floor. Ordinarily, the sound would have been barely audible, but in the silence and my fear, I heard every foot fall.

  I hoped to u
se the element of surprise, waiting for him to open the door and planning to leap out. My adrenaline surged, ready to pounce. His cell phone rang, making me jump. I caught myself before I banged into the door.

  “Yeah,” he barked. His voice sounded young, but rough around the edges from too many cigarettes.

  I heard muffled words coming from the phone.

  “I said I’d be right there. I’ve got some loose ends to tie up.”

  Since I didn't have the gouging plan fully coordinated, I hoped he’d just leave.

  He cursed again, calling the person on the other end a lot of very ugly names. “I’ll be right there.” He left the bathroom, giving the wall a good kick on his way out. The kitchen door slammed.

  I snuck out of the closet, amazed I’d calmed down so much coming up with a plan. Maybe I was capable of a lot more than I thought.

  Wrapping the towel around me, I hunched over and looked out the front windows. The back of a head disappeared into a beat-up looking black pickup truck with the name Weston’s Garage printed on the side, the letters rubbed off around the edges. The truck looked old and reminded me of a quilt with patches of rust spots and mismatched paint.

  The man slammed the door closed and took off down the street. It surprised me he wasn’t more subtle. I only hoped Mildred had seen everything then remembered Thursday mornings meant Mildred was busy performing her presidential duties at the Garden Society meeting. Across town.

  Discouraged, I turned around to view the damage left behind. Broken dishes and glasses were strewn everywhere. The junk drawer contents had been dumped onto the kitchen table, but when I checked my purse, my wallet appeared intact.

  What had he been after?

  I moved down to my bedroom, noticing the hole he beat into the wall in the hallway in his frustration. That had to be patched up, as well as the hole he kicked in the bathroom. In my bedroom, clothing had been dumped and thrown all over the room. In Momma’s room, boxes of photos were scattered everywhere like new fallen snow.

  I sighed with weariness. I really didn’t want to deal with this right now. Calling the police crossed my mind, but that could take hours and I doubted they’d believe me anyway. I tiptoed my way through the mess in the kitchen to check the door. I could have sworn that I’d locked it when I came in. But I found it unlocked and the door didn't look busted in. The police definitely wouldn’t believe me now.

  In the end, what did it matter whether I called or not? It wasn't like they were going to do anything about it.

  The phone rang, startling me out of my thoughts. I answered it cautiously. Momma didn't believe in caller ID so I had no way of knowing who waited on the other end.

  “Rose?” Joe asked, sounding surprised.

  “Joe?”

  “What are you doing home? Why aren’t you at work?”

  “Why are you calling me if you didn’t think I was home?”

  “I was gonna leave a message.” He paused then let his anger loose. “Where were you last night?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “You left and never came home, where were you all night?”

  He was really starting to make me mad. Who did he think he was, anyway? “That’s none of your business, Joe McAllister! I don't answer to you.”

  “I was worried about you, Rose. First your mother, then your break-in and the murder last night. I was scared something happened to you.”

  “Wait a minute, what murder?”

  “A bartender from Jaspers.”

  The blood rushed out of my head and pooled in the tips of my toes. “What? Sloan?”

  “You knew him?” Joe didn't sound as worried as he did before.

  “Well, I wouldn't say I knew him that well. We had a dealing.” I sure wasn’t going to admit to Joe I needed help fending a man off. “I can’t believe it.” I sank down in a chair. I didn’t know how much more bad news I could take.

  We were silent for a moment, while I let the information soak in. “What happened to him?” I finally asked.

  “He was shot behind the restaurant after work. Execution-style.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “They shot him at point-blank range, but they probably tried to get information out of him first.”

  “Oh, my…why would someone do that?”

  “You tell me.”

  My heart skipped a beat. “How would I know?” He was so exasperating. “I had one dealing with him and you think I know why someone killed him?”

  “For such a quiet town, it’s more than a little coincidental that your mother is murdered, someone breaks into your house and a man was murdered last night. Someone you had a dealing with.”

  If he only knew about my break-in minutes earlier. “Do you think the police will figure out I knew him?”

  “That depends, Rose. How well did you know him?” Bitterness drenched his words.

  “You very well know I didn’t know him in the way you’re insinuating. I think I’m done talking to you, Joe.”

  “Wait!” He called out, pleading, before I could hang up.

  “What?”

  “I’m sorry. I don’t want to fight with you. I was just worried and apparently jealous.”

  Jealous? Joe jealous over me? For some reason I didn't totally believe him. Three more days rang through my head. Besides, I had to admit I liked the idea of Joe being jealous. “So where did you think I went last night?”

  “I was worried you ran off and did something crazy like sleep with some guy before Monday.”

  “And why do you care?” I couldn’t help asking.

  He paused, then answered, soft and sexy: “Because I want it to be me.”

  I couldn't stop the sharp intake of air from the instantaneous fire igniting in my gut. “Then don't make me wait until Monday,” I whispered. “Maybe we can work out some kind of compromise.”

  He paused again. I had a feeling Joe was doing some conscious-wrestling. He was trying to be honorable and I was trying to drag him down. I really was wicked. I almost felt bad. Almost.

  “We can talk about it tonight at dinner. Remember?”

  “About that…” I glanced around my kitchen with a grimace, unsure I could have everything cleaned up by then, or if I even wanted to. “I’m not sure I can cook.”

  “We’ll figure something out. I’m more interested in the company than the food.”

  “Maybe we could eat at your place. I could cook there.”

  He paused again. “No, that’s not going to work. My house is a wreck. A total bachelor pad.”

  I frowned. He didn't have any trouble letting Hilary in there. I rolled my eyes. I didn't want to think about Hilary. “Okay, well we’ll figure it out later. See you tonight.”

  “Wait, Rose, where were you last night?” He didn’t sound jealous. He sounded anxious.

  “At my sister’s house.”

  I could have sworn I heard him mutter “thank God” under his breath.

  We hung up and I pulled out the phone book and called a cleaning company, offering to pay extra if they were there within the hour. Next, I called Violet and told her I had a slight delay. While on the phone, I noticed my Walmart receipt under the junk spread across the table. I pulled it free, looking over the items. I still had things to do today.

  “Violet, how about we go to the park for a picnic? We can get food on the way. It’ll be fun. We can bring Muffy.”

  The maid service arrived ahead of schedule and was immediately taken back by the state of the kitchen. An older Hispanic woman shot a look of disapproval in my direction when she noticed the hole in the hallway wall. I shrugged and murmured something about wild parties. I instructed them to throw everything in Momma’s room into the now empty boxes. In the kitchen, they could toss anything broken and put everything else away. I handed a set of keys to the women and told her to hide them under the mat outside the door. A totally obvious place, but it wasn’t like locked doors kept people out anyway.

  After I got the cleaning se
rvice squared away, I called a taxi to take me to the car rental agency. They apologized over the trouble and offered me a new car, but I told them to just give me a refund on the unused days.

  When I got to Violet’s house, she appeared surprised to see my old car but didn’t ask questions. We loaded the kids and Muffy into Violet’s minivan and headed to Henryetta’s new splash park.

  After we spread out a blanket under a tree, we settled in to eat, the kids excited to play in the water. Violet and I convinced them to eat the majority of their lunch before they took off, leaving Violet, Muffy and me behind.

  The sun bore down as we stood at the edge of the splash park concrete. Ashley tugged on my wrist, pulling me toward the fountains, looking up at me with pouty eyes. I didn’t have a swimming suit, but decided I might never get the chance again. I hadn't seen a weather forecast for the next few days, but today it was hot and sunny, with no clouds in sight. There was a good possibility it wouldn’t rain between now and Sunday. Maybe this could count for play in the rain.

  Violet held Muffy’s leash while I ran in, hands over my head, screaming from the shock of the cold water pelting my skin. I shrugged off my inhibitions, tossing them away like an old tattered coat. The chains wrapped around my life slipped off one link at a time with every puddle I stomped. I almost cried from the freedom. Ashley and Mikey laughed as we spun in circles and ran through pools of water. I’d never done this before, completely let go of everything. I felt so light and free I expected to float up into the sky and become lost in the nonexistent clouds above. Violet stood on the edge, eyeing us with a wistful look in her eye and I realized she never had either. I was the chain that tied her down.