by A. C. Bextor
“I hate when Mom’s sad.”
“Me too.”
Inquisitively, she locks her stare to mine and questions, “You know her?”
“I do.”
“What’s your name?” she queries, her eyes squinting in way of the afternoon sun.
With her looking at me for the first time, I note her cheeks are puffy. Her eyes are red. And she has a slathering of dirt that runs across her cheek.
“Cole.”
“You’re that officer at our school?” she recognizes. “The one showing the kids how to shoot hoops.”
“I am.”
“Coal is your name, though? As in, Santa brings bad kids coal for Christmas?”
“Yes,” I give her without further explaining.
“Harsh.”
“Been called that, too.” I smile.
“I don’t love your name,” she counters, nearly smiling. “You cool if I call you McButterpants?”
“Why the hell would you call me McButterpants?”
Thankfully, the sad expression she had when I got here continues to fade.
Averie shrugs, grabs hold of the chains of the swing and answers, “’Cause I can.”
Yes. She’s every bit of her mother. Even more of a handful—if that were possible.
“You can call me McButterpants,” I allow, but quickly take back, “But I’d prefer you call me Cole.”
“Officer Cole?”
“Cole is fine.”
Ignoring my insistence, she prods, “So, McButterpants, how do you know my mom?”
“We’re old friends. I met her when she was about your age.”
“Wow,” she exhales in surprise. “My mom is friends with a cop.”
“I wasn’t a cop when we met.”
“What were you?”
“A troublemaker.”
“A troublemaking McButterpants.” She grins. “I like it. It suits you.”
Before losing her attention, and my chance to get her out of here, I question, “Can I take you home now?”
Averie takes a glance around the playground. The cogs of the young girl’s mind obviously turn. She smiles again before jumping off the swing to stand. Taking two steps, she walks to where I’m still sitting. Her arms come to her front where, palms up, she locks her wrists together.
Observing her stance, one foot kicked out in demand, her eyes squinting at the sun, I have no clue what I’m supposed to do with her.
“What’re you doin’?”
“I’ll go with you, but only if you cuff me,” she negotiates.
As I stand, Averie takes a smart step back to give me room. I grab her by the back of the neck and pull her to my side. Parents around the small area look on with avid attention. Kids have stopped playing, turning only their heads, and probably fearing I’ll do to them as Averie asked done to her.
“I can’t cuff you. But if you don’t move your ass, I’ll carry you out of here kickin’ and screamin’.”
“Do it!” she exclaims. “My friends won’t believe it when I tell them!”
Jesus Christ.
Ten years ago, dealing with this wouldn’t be nearly as exhausting as it is now. Second thought, maybe it would.
“Let’s go,” I push. “I’ll let you test the sirens once, if you promise to keep to quiet on the way out.”
“Totally quiet! I’m also going to need to handle your megaphone.”
“I don’t have a megaphone.”
Puzzled with disappointment, she asks, “How do you get bad people to talk to you then?”
“I don’t need a loud voice,” I reply. “They talk to me because I carry a gun.”
“Yes!” she shouts, as the remaining ground guests turn our way. “I’ll totally need to handle that then.”
Jesus. Christ.
On the drive home, I’ve kept more focus in keeping Averie’s hands to herself. She’s tried and tested every button in the cruiser, and I’m regretting the decision to allow the little shit to sit up front. She would’ve been much easier to manage if she were caged in the back.
“Do you think Duke would mind being buried in our backyard?”
I don’t know fuck all about dogs, nor do I know their choices in the afterlife, so I give the simple answer of, “No.”
“’Cause if we get a new dog, he’ll pee all over Duke.”
Again, fuck knows.
“I guess we could bury him somewhere out of the way. Maybe he won’t mind that so much.”
“You could,” I return.
Moving subject, she asks, “Can we stop for ice cream?”
“What?”
“Ice cream. There’s a place near our house. They serve killer frozen yogurt.”
“Not sure we have time for that.”
“They have a drive-through,” she tells me. “Come on. I’m going to be grounded when I get home. So, if you’ll just lead the way, I’ll let you buy me one.”
Let me.
“I think your mom would prefer if I just took you home.”
“Mom would prefer if you got me ice cream now. Even though she’s probably really mad at me, she would get me ice cream. I mean, my dog just died. Right?”
The girl has a point, albeit a ridiculous one.
“We’ll get ice cream,” I confirm. “Quickly and quietly,” I add, just in case she’s in the mood to cause another scene.
As Averie runs inside the house, I stand on the porch and wait. I’ve never been to Katie’s home—at least not the one she made with her family. Here, as in all other facets of her life now, I’m an outsider.
New looking, wooden flower boxes adorn the windows. Sprinklers run throughout the lawn. The mailbox on the house is open, a few envelopes sticking out from its top. There are two bikes leaning against the garage door. One blue. One purple. The purple one has dead flowers stuck inside the white basket at the handlebars. Smiling, I deduce that must be Averie’s.
One dark blue minivan sits in the driveway.
“Mom!” Averie shouts, opening the screen door and holding it for me to enter.
I shake my head, wordlessly telling her I’ll stay behind.
“Mom!” Averie screams again. “McButterpants is here.”
Dear God. The name stuck.
Katie comes to the door.
She’s wearing a black and red dress, the same she wore at the station but I hadn’t noticed. The material fits her body as though made for her. With the money Thomas no doubt makes, it very well could’ve been. She’d also been dressed much the same when I saw her at the bar.
Matter-of-fact, I haven’t seen Katie dressed as she used to be since before I left. Each time I’ve seen her since, she’s only been a shadow of the once carefree girl I once knew.
Her hair is lighter, too. Nearly blonde. A far cry from her natural dark.
She’s still just as beautiful, but with the time passed her beauty has changed. And in a way I’m not familiar.
Seconds pass and I notice Katie’s wedding ring. One very large center diamond, surrounded by several smaller ones. The band is silver.
Her face is still shattered from tears, but there’s no visible relief. Only anger. Guessing now that she sees for herself her daughter is okay, a severe punishment is about to be delivered.
As Averie wraps her arms around her mother, burying her cheek to her side, Katie mouths, “McButterpants?”
I shake my head and return, “Don’t ask.”
“I’m sorry I worried you,” Averie explains, tearing her head from her mother’s side to give a sincere apology.
Averie has to know she’s got an ass-chewing on the way. But she doesn’t care. She feels bad, guilty for needlessly worrying her family.
Not acknowledging her apology, Katie looks down and scolds, “Don’t you ever do that again.”
Averie’s bottom lip trembles. I didn’t have a mother growing up, so I can’t relate. But as Katie looks into Averie’s watering eyes, a calming peace and understanding comes forth. Of course, Averie sho
uldn’t have taken off, but it’s possible Duke was the first real loss in life Averie’s ever felt.
And if so, God bless her for it.
Katie’s stern look falls way to a gentler one before she bends her neck to kiss Averie’s forehead.
Without notice, Averie informs, “McButterpants is going to help us bury Duke. He said we could find a place in the backyard.”
What the fuck?
Katie’s now panicked eyes flip to mine and her mouth opens in surprise—or fear. I recognize this because I feel the same.
“I didn’t say—” I try.
Turning from her mom, Averie pins me with a knowing glare then subjects, “My dad’s out of town. My sister and I can’t dig a hole big enough for Duke, and you know my mom is upset because I told you she was.”
“Honey,” Katie disrupts. “Officer Cole is very busy.”
“Too busy to help us with Duke?” Averie pushes, her narrowed eyes to mine.
Katie runs her hand through Averie’s hair for comfort, but her expression is all concern. “Yes. He has an important job.”
“He said he’s an old friend of yours. Old friends…”
“Averie, no,” Katie concludes, shaking her head to further warn.
“Fine,” her daughter pouts.
“Good. Now go wash and help Amelia set the table. We’ll talk after dinner.”
I bet they will. I’m also willing to bet Averie mentions nothing about a three scoop, chocolate ice cream cone she ordered from the Dairy Lot. This monstrosity forced me to drive around the block until she proclaimed she had enough. That was when she tossed it out the window of my cruiser, essentially littering in front of an officer. From his very own squad car.
Once Averie hears her mother’s direction, she fists her small hand and holds it out toward me. I stand staring. I have no fucking clue what to do with it.
“Knucks!” she insists.
I continue to stare. And blink.
“Oh come on. Knucks.” She nudges her small fist my way further.
Doing as she did, I hit her hand with my own.
“Good, but we can do better,” she tells me, and tries to get me to do it again.
“Averie Marie,” Katie wades in to save me. “Right now. Go.”
Averie shrugs. “Catch you later, McButterpants.”
Katie watches her daughter turn to leave. Once she’s gone, she turns back to me and remains standing just inside the door. She wraps her arms around her stomach, holding her elbows at each side.
Guarded. Nervous. Lost.
Fingering a piece of her hair that’s fallen to her face, she secures it behind her ear and asks, “My daughter calls you McButterpants?”
“She does.”
Doing a shit job of masking her smile, she asks, “And you let her?”
Coldly, in order to keep my distance and not be trapped by that smile, I return, “Do I have a choice?”
“Not really,” she replies, now laughing.
Fuck. That laugh. A thousand days of laughter have been tormenting me for years. The sound takes me back to a time when we were younger, more free, and had all the time in the world with each other.
“I’m so sorry about all of this,” she says. “Thank you for finding her and—”
Her laughter dies when she catches me staring so intently.
I’ve missed Katie more than I thought I did, if that were ever possible. I’d forgotten how cute she was when she had so much to say. Being with her daughter, one so much like her, reminded me of a time when I’d do the same for her.
Anything for her.
“Where’s your husband?” I ask, careful not to use his name. Not because I don’t know his name, but because I don’t want to fucking hear it—from my mouth or hers.
“Thomas is in Phoenix. He’ll be back at the end of the week.”
“You have anyone to help with Duke?”
Surprised at my question, Katie furrows her brow but answers, “I can handle it. I can call Dad—”
Starting to step back from the porch, I question, “I’m sure you can. What time are the girls home from school?”
“What?”
“The girls, Katie Mae,” I push. At the name, her head tilts to the side. Her nose scrunches but she stays quiet.
Fuck, I’ve missed that too.
Pressing the matter, I prod, “What time do the girls get home from school tomorrow?”
“Amelia, three-thirty, Averie four. But Mason—”
I hadn’t remembered the way she said my name. She was frantic at the station, and all I could think was getting her to calm. Now, the name very few have permission to use slips from her lips as once a passing memory now brought to life.
Fuck.
“I’ll be here at four,” I tersely inform, still keeping my distance. “You okay to handle the girls alone until then?”
She stares, unmoving.
“Need an answer, Katie.”
Gathering herself and blinking quickly, she says, “Yes. We’ll be fine.”
“Okay, then. I’ll be back tomorrow.”
On my way back to the cruiser, I grab my phone to find a message I didn’t know I had. Katie had returned my text.
Katie: Thank you for saving the day again. My daughter is grounded for a month.
Opening my driver’s side door, I fight a smile. No doubt Averie Marie Dyer will be grounded a lot in the years to come.
Past…
“SO, THERE’S NO WAY TO know how it ends yet. That’s why the book has a warning in the description. It’s a cliffhanger,” Katie explains as I stand at the door, resting my shoulder against the jamb and listening in on her conversation.
At first, Katie’s melodious voice only sounded familiar. Once I was sure it was her, I walked out of the room I’d been visiting and made my way over.
“A cliffhanger?” the old, wrinkled woman sitting in a rocking chair, her legs and feet covered in a heavy red throw, admonishes. “Child, what in the world is a cliffhanger?”
Katie’s back shakes. I can’t hear her laughing, but it’s confirmed when she says, “A cliffy is when the author hasn’t finished the story. It isn’t over.”
The old woman’s mouth gapes open and her eyes widen in horror as she looks outside the window they’re sitting in front of. “But the book we’ve been reading for weeks is done. There are no more pages left to read.”
Katie giggles her sweet, cute giggle then places her hand on the annoyed old woman’s knee. “Maggie, there’s going to be another book. It’s a series, remember? This just means we have to wait.”
Maggie’s lips get tight. She shakes her head tersely before advising the obvious, “Sweetheart, I’m ninety-two-years-old. How long do these cliffhangers last?”
Katie closes the book and sets it down on the floor at her feet. “I’ll check the library and see if book two is available now or not.”
The old woman sighs, turning her head, and holding her hands in her lap. When her gaze finds mine, I nod and remain standing just inside the door.
The old woman’s smile dies and she whispers, “Oh my.”
Katie turns around in her seat. Seeing me here as well, she smiles wide and says the same, “Oh my is right, Mags,” but she adds, “If it isn’t Mason Cole.”
“Mason Cole,” the old lady repeats. “Well, don’t just stand there looking all scary. Come in. Katherine was just explaining to me—”
“Cliffhangers,” I finish. “I heard.”
“Who might you be, other than Mason Cole?” Maggie asks.
“Cole,” I reintroduce.
The elderly woman looks me up and down, sizing me up to determine if I’m worthy of Katie’s and her company. When she makes her decision, she points to the chair next to Katie’s.
“Sit, will you? Stay and entertain us.”
I walk toward the women but I stop just behind Katie. When I’m close, Katie cranes her neck to look up at me.
The last time I saw her, she was laying on a bea
ch, wearing far less clothes than she should’ve been. Sun and sand or not.
By memory, I know this coming August Katie is turning eighteen.
“What are you doing here?” Katie asks, lifting her finger and pointing around the room.
“Maggie’s neighbor,” I mention first. “I know him.”
“Oh, so you know that bristly old coot,” Maggie hisses. “Maybe you can tell him he should keep his door shut.”
“Oh yeah?” I prod.
“Damn the man. He keeps his television on at all hours. He’s nearly deaf so the sound echoes off the walls.”
“Sorry to hear that,” I return on a smile.
Katie clears her throat, but I keep my attention to Maggie as I doubt she’s finished.
I’m right when she continues, “A girl needs her shut-eye. Hard to get that with those westerns popping off caps in asses all hours of the night.”
Katie sucks in her lips to keep from laughing. The mischievous twinkle in her eye is the same as I remember.
“Yeah,” I confirm with a half-smile. “I’ll have a word with the old coot.”
Satisfied with my response, she looks to Katie and smiles. “Well, you two probably have some catching up to do. I’ll call the nurse in for some help to nap.”
Katie turns back around in her seat before she stands. “I’ll run and get Carla to come in for you. And I’ll see you first thing on Sunday morning.”
“Honey.” Maggie smiles. “You’ve been here almost every day this week. Take some time off. Enjoy the nice early spring weather.”
“I’ll see you Sunday,” Katie assertively insists. “And with any luck we’ll find out if Johnny loves Casey enough to go find where she’s gone.”
“Johnny. The bastard,” Maggie utters, looking up at me.
“The jerk,” Katie chides, turning in place to do the same.
“My name isn’t Johnny,” I point out, deadpanned. “And I have no fuckin’ clue who Casey is.”
Maggie laughs, her belly shakes with each bout. “You two best get out of here before I get riled up again.”
Once Katie puts the book away, grabs her things, and readies to go, she bends to kiss Maggie’s cheek. Maggie smiles at the gesture and taps Katie’s hand.
“Be good, Mags. If you’re not, the staff will tell me all about it.”