by Zoe Chant
“I’m Marta,” the woman introduced herself. “Marta Fredrickson. I live in the brick house on Parker.”
“Shelley,” she said, feeling shy. “Shelley Powell.”
Marta gave her a narrow-eyed look. “You’re Shaun’s sister, then. Damien’s daughter.”
“I... yes.”
“Lot of you Powells around these days with your money and your shiny cars,” Marta said with a sniff. She handed the casserole to Shelley. “Heat it up for 30 minutes at 350.” She said it dubiously, as if Shelley might not be capable of such a task.
“Thank you,” Shelley said, blinking at her. “It’s very... er... kind of you.”
Marta made a harrumph, and Shelley couldn’t decide what she meant by it. “Dean’s a good young man,” the woman said, and her skeptical look at Shelley’s impractical heels said plenty.
Aaron had disappeared, and Shelley wished she could do the same. Bingo had sat up to lick himself noisily, one leg in the air as he investigated his genitals with his tongue.
Trying not to laugh at the absurdity, Shelley politely agreed, “Dean is a good man. He will appreciate the casserole very much and I will tell him that you stopped by. Thank you.”
Marta seemed pleased by her response and nodded crisply. “You’ll do,” she said cryptically, with a glance at Bingo, who was still very busily grooming himself. “Good luck.”
Shelley closed the door behind her, mystified, and brought the casserole dish in to the kitchen.
“I don’t want to eat that,” Aaron declared.
Shelley supposed she should be glad that he had waited until Marta had left to voice his opinion.
She didn’t particularly want to eat it, either, but knew she should say something to set a good example. “It was very kind of Mrs. Fredrickson to bring it by.” She sounded unbelievably uptight.
The casserole looked singularly unappealing, with its hard brown noodles and green peas. Canned peas, Shelley suspected. It definitely didn’t look anywhere near the caliber of the casserole Dean had made her. “Maybe it tastes better than it looks?”
It didn’t.
Shelley sat across from Aaron at the table and they both pushed it around on their plates and took skeptical bites that weren’t rewarded.
“Oh, screw it,” Shelley finally said, causing Aaron’s head to jerk up and his eyes to go wide. Shelley put down her fork and stood up. “Get your jacket, Aaron. We’re going shopping.” She put on her jacket and sunglasses and swung her purse over a shoulder.
Aaron obediently grabbed his jacket and stuffed his arms into it, never once taking his eyes off of her. “What are we shopping for?” he asked.
“Junk food.”
Aaron nearly fell over Bingo, who had gotten excited by people putting on coats and was trying to make sure no one forgot him.
“Junk food?” Aaron shoved Bingo back from the door as Shelley opened it.
“Junk food,” Shelley said firmly. “There are some days that require it, and this is obviously one of them.”
Bingo whined as they shut the door and shortly appeared in the window, looking wistfully after them.
It took a little effort to figure out how to walk with the little boy; Shelley was used to a long, confident stride, but he had to scamper to keep up, and then when she tried to take shorter steps, he was pulling her faster.
The grocery store had no name out front, but Shelley was sure it must be named Shirley’s or Mary’s or Mom’s. Shelley took a basket at the door. Aaron, his hand still in hers, led her directly to an aisle of treasures.
“What do you want to get?” Shelley asked, snagging a personal bag of ridged potato chips for herself.
Aaron start to agonize between cheese puffs and seasoned corn chips. Shelley waited for a few moments as he hemmed and hawed, then tipped both of them into her basket. “We’re going to need chocolate,” she declared.
Sweets were on the next aisle over, beside a display of rakes and cow-patterned garden gloves. Hot tamales went into the basket, and a bag of peanut M&Ms. “They have nuts in them, so they’re sort of healthy,” Shelley told Aaron. “Next we’ll need root beer.”
Aaron looked at her like she’d just announced that down was up and led her to the tiny soda display, where Shelley grabbed a liter of root beer. “Ice cream,” she directed Aaron, whose eyes got very big indeed.
There were two upright freezer displays and one small chest freezer, absolutely jam-packed with local meat, frozen vegetables, and an eclectic selection of expired ice cream. Shelley selected a pint of vanilla almost unreadable with frost.
“They have corn dogs,” Aaron said wistfully, and Shelley remembered how avidly he’d eaten them at Gran’s Grits.
Shelley picked up the box of frozen corn dogs and threw them into her heaping basket as well. “Where do we check out?”
The vacant cashier’s desk was cluttered with stands selling candy, and obviously home-printed pamphlets for local churches. There was a t-shirt rack sporting cheap Halloween costumes in all sizes.
“Have you thought about what you want to be for Halloween?” Shelley asked as they waited for someone to show up.
“I want to be the Flash!” Aaron said enthusiastically, flipping through the offerings. There were seven sizes of ice queen costumes, an Iron Man, a few Batmen, a scarecrow, two pirates, and several sexy nurses and police officers in adult sizes.
Shelley fingered the cheap material and the terrible seams and frowned. “Do you want me to make you a costume?” Halloween was a few weeks out; it shouldn’t be too hard to whip up a pair of pajamas in the right color and applique a logo.
Aaron was staring at her. “You can do that?”
Was it a dig on her ability to do anything?
“Sure, I sew all kinds of things,” Shelley said. It would be a first for a kid’s costume, but Shelley wasn’t going to mention that. She altered her own clothing all the time, and she’d made a lot of doll clothing as a child, this would just be halfway in between. She eyed the cluttered store. “Do they sell fabric here?”
The fabric section was next to some dusty greeting cards. It was one shelf about three feet wide, and nearly half of the selection was plaid, but there was a half bolt of red polar fleece and some yellowish bric-a-brac. Shelley looked up Flash on her phone and made Aaron point out the best costume. “We could probably make this work,” she said, giving the fleece an experimental stretch. “I bet Tawny has a sewing machine.”
Aaron was ecstatic, and hugged the bolt of material to his chest, bouncing around. “I’m going to be the Flash!” He demonstrated by running as fast as he could down one of the aisles, and crashed into a display of seed packets. The fabric fell to the floor and unrolled off its cardboard core, while little paper packets of seeds scattered in all directions.
I just quit my job for this, Shelley thought in sudden panic. What was I thinking? She clenched her purse in her hands desperately.
“I got it!” Aaron hollered, righting the display. He picked up the seed packets and jammed them back into the wire pockets at random. He stepped on the fabric several times.
“You can’t— I just— Let me—” Shelley winced at every creased seed packet and every dirty foot on the fleece and fought her terror back, aware of her lioness’ anxious presence. She wasn’t going to freak out now. She’d been doing so well this week!
She marched down the aisle and began putting the seed packets back in the appropriate pockets. “You can’t just jam them in anywhere,” she scolded.
Aaron, subdued, handed her the seeds as she worked, and she sorted swiftly. She chose alphabetical because she had no idea what the original organization had been, each variety in its own space, bent corners smoothed. A few of the seed packages were ripped, so Shelley threw them on top of the basket.
“Sorry, Shelley,” Aaron said sheepishly, hugging the loose fleece to himself.
“It’s okay,” Shelley assured him, and herself. “It’s all picked up now. We got this.”
> The merry mood was bruised, and their ice cream and corn dogs were sweating in the warm air as they went back to the cashier.
There was a cashier now, at least, a dark-haired, no-nonsense Asian woman who was talking with... the woman who had delivered the casserole. Marta? Was that her name? And here were Shelley and Aaron with a basket full of corn dogs and sugar like a slap in the face.
You’re on a roll, Shelley, she told herself sarcastically. Let’s just insult Dean’s friends and family and let his kid run wild in the store. Great adulting.
She briefly considered saying that Bingo had eaten the hapless casserole and then raised her chin defiantly. If Marta didn’t mention it, neither would she. She worked well under pressure, Shelley reminded herself firmly. This felt like more pressure than a whole room full of lawyers circling bloody waters as both women turned their eyes to the basket she put defiantly down on the counter.
“You must be Shelley,” the cashier said neutrally, picking up the seed packets. It earned her a second look, and Shelley realized she’d managed to get six packets of frilled red cabbage. “I’m Julia.”
“A little late for planting,” the grey-haired woman said, not commenting on the other contents of Shelley’s basket.
“Oh, I don’t garden,” Shelley said, only hearing how snobby she sounded when the words were out of her mouth. “I knocked over the display and these got damaged.”
Aaron stared up at her. Did he really think she would throw him under the bus? It was only an accident.
“You don’t have to pay for them,” Julia said dubiously.
“I insist,” Shelley said firmly.
The cashier rang them up at seventy-two cents apiece, then started in on the contents of the basket.
“Shame about Dean’s shop,” Julia said, shaking her head. “He’s worked so hard to keep it running since...”
Both women looked at Shelley and the gray-haired woman asked point blank, “So, did you two meet on the Internet? One of those dating app things?”
“Oh, ah, no,” Shelley said. “We met just, last week. I was here for my Dad’s wedding and I needed some... work done on my car.” A loose license plate. Shelley made a mental facepalm at the memory.
“Dean’s a good mechanic,” Julia observed blandly. “Good dad, too.”
Shelley was keenly aware of Aaron at her side. She made a generic noise of agreement and wondered if it was a dig on her clear inadequacies.
She kept her chin high. She could do this.
Chapter 24
Dean opened the door wearily, and was surprised when Bingo failed to come greet him. It was quiet and the light from the TV was flickering in the dim room.
Shelley was sitting at the couch watching the muted TV, and she craned her head around to look at him awkwardly. Dean realized as he walked in that she was pinned down, Bingo on one side of her with his head in her lap, Aaron on the other, asleep against her.
“Help,” she mouthed.
“Bingo, down,” Dean said quietly.
Bingo kept his head in Shelley’s lap and his tail thumped happily.
“Bingo...”
Bingo gave a suffering sigh and oozed off of the couch onto the floor, where he promptly fell over on his side.
Half free, Shelley tried to squirm out from Aaron, freezing when he mumbled and held on.
“I don’t want to wake him up,” she whispered plaintively.
Dean came around the couch and scooped the un-protesting boy into his arms. “It’s amazing what they can sleep through,” he whispered back.
Aaron did come awake, though, halfway up the stairs, and mumbled, “You smell bad,” into his shoulder. Dean had showered thoroughly at the station, twice, but he knew from experience that the smoky odor and the black pores would remain for a day or more.
His lungs at least felt better, after he’d shifted a few times privately out in the woods.
Aaron fell immediately back to sleep when Dean tucked him into bed, in exactly the position he lay down in.
Dean watched him sleep for a few moments, then trudged back downstairs.
Shelley was picking up the living room; the blankets they’d been wrapped in were folded over the back of the couch and she was putting dirty dishes in the kitchen.
“How did it go?” he asked.
Shelley looked stricken. “Oh, Dean. I did everything wrong. I fed him nothing but junk food, I burnt the corndogs, we watched a movie that was way too scary and stayed up long past his bedtime, and I swore in front of him at least six times. I forgot about homework. He ran into a display at the store and I had to buy six packets of frilled red cabbage seeds.”
Dean stared. “Frilled red cabbage?”
“I’m a disaster,” Shelley said. “I don’t know why I thought I could do this. I’m so sorry.”
He could feel the tension in her, fear and anxiousness in a tight band around her chest, and he forgot his own problems. “You did great,” he said sincerely, pulling her into his arms.
She came willingly, sighing onto his shoulder. “You should be able to rely on me,” she said mournfully. “I wanted to do this right.”
“Did he get hurt?”
“No.”
“Did he spend the whole night worrying about me?”
“Er, no... We actually had a pretty fun time.”
“Have you ever babysat before?”
“Not once.”
“And were you great at your first law contract?”
Shelley gave a hiccup of a laugh. “It came back bleeding with markups.”
Dean put her at arm’s length and looked into her distractingly magical silver eyes. “You did great,” he repeated firmly.
She smiled at him and gave a little sniff, blinking fast. “Oh good grief,” she said. “Here I am whining about my motherly inadequacies and you just lost your shop. Dean, I’m so sorry. What can I do?”
Dean had managed to forget for a moment, and it all came crashing back at once. Bingo’s snore was loud in the quiet room.
“I... don’t know,” he said, remembering the sour-faced insurance inspector and the way he had pounced on the fact that the fire station wasn’t accredited anymore. He remembered Turner, cutting him off the squad in front of the whole town... and Shelley.
“Did they figure out what caused it?” Shelley asked quietly.
Dean shrugged. “It’s not official, but there was a power surge reported by the power company shortly before smoke was spotted. Old wiring, a pile of greasy rags or something flammable... they’re calling it an accident.”
“How bad was the store?”
“Some pretty good smoke damage,” Dean said, trying not to feel pained. “I’ll have a fire sale in the fullest meaning of the term.”
She gave him a narrow-eyed look that suggested she was picking up on what he was really feeling. “Oh, Dean,” she said tenderly. “I hope the insurance doesn’t take too long to get it all replaced.”
Dean stuffed his doubts down as far as they would go. “I’m sure it will be fine,” he lied.
It would have worked with Deirdre, he thought, but Shelley wasn’t fooled. She stepped close to him and put her hands gently on his face. “Whatever you need from me, let me know,” she said firmly. “I will stuff your kid with junk food and watch inappropriate movies with him anytime you want. Though I may have to buy some earplugs because oh my god, there were times I was afraid he was never going to stop talking.”
Dean had to laugh. “That’s definitely a thing,” he agreed. “You get used to it...” Standing so close to her, her hands soft on his cheeks, he was reminded that it had been a whole week since he’d kissed her and it was suddenly very urgent that he make up for that lost time.
“Aaron?” Shelley asked, with a nervous look at the stairs.
“He once slept through a tornado siren,” Dean assured her.
She met him with her mouth open, and her arms slid up around his neck. All of her fears and all of his despair melted away in the wav
e of need and desire that welled up from the pit of his stomach... and places lower.
“I missed you,” Shelley murmured, when he moved his mouth to her elegant neck.
“I love you,” Dean whispered in return.
Bingo was still asleep, so the couch was a safe place to lay her down and peel all of her clothing off.
He kissed every inch of skin as he uncovered it, lingering at her hot, neatly-trimmed pussy as he pushed her tailored pants down over her curvy hips.
“Dean,” she cried softly. “Dean!”
He kissed down her long, long legs, even tickling her feet with his tongue as he slipped her socks off.
She giggled, and Bingo gave a groan in his sleep that made them both freeze for a moment.
Then he was stripping off his own pants and coming to cover her... awkwardly, because dog or no dog, the couch proved not to be a particularly comfortable place, and not quite wide enough to accommodate them both. She was hot and wet enough that it didn’t matter for the first several thrusts, and she bit back cries of pleasure and scratched his back as she arched to meet him desperately.
They moved briefly to the floor, then scrambled up the stairs as quietly as possible, creeping past Aaron’s room like nude thieves.
Then, finally, he was laying her down on the bed and slipping inside her again, where nothing mattered but his bear’s demands and her soft cries.
They curled together afterwards, and Dean drew more comfort from her long limbs in his arms than he would have guessed possible. He’d missed her so badly, needed her so deeply...
They dozed for a while, and when he went to get another blanket against the chill of the autumn night, she woke up and touched him. One touch led to another, and another, and the rest of the night was spent in an exhausted blur of making love.
Chapter 25
The alarm woke them both entirely too early.
Shelley fumbled at the bedside table with her face still buried in her pillow until Dean finally reached over her and turned off the alarm.
“Didn’t your shop burn down yesterday?” she groaned. “Doesn’t that at least mean you don’t have to get up today?” Then she rolled over, mortified. “Is it too soon to joke?”