There Was a Little Girl

by Cynthia Luhrs

  The man puts a hand on her arm. “We’re not calling the police. Let’s just go home.”

  The woman sees me jogging toward her. “Did you hear the gunshot?”

  I stop. Make a show of pulling my earbuds out. “No way! I thought I heard something.”

  I sheepishly shrug. “But I have to admit, I had the music up a little bit louder than I should have. So I’m not really sure what I heard. Do you think someone is out hunting? This is a public area.” I force indignation into my voice.

  “I think so. But my husband here, he thinks we should just let it go. I think we should call the police. What do you think?”

  I hold my hands up, smiling at them both. “Since I’m not positive what I heard, I’m going to finish my run before the rain starts. But I think you guys should ask a few other people. I passed a jogger back that way. He was wearing a dark windbreaker and a baseball cap. Maybe he knows something.”

  And maybe, just maybe, that’ll plant suspicion in the woman’s head that it was him and not me. She narrows her eyes at her husband. “Come on, let’s go find him. He was probably the jerk off shooting at an animal.”

  I wave at them, jogging away like I have every right to be there.

  “Could you make sure to vacuum it really well? I’ve been to the garden center. There’s dirt and all kinds of stuff in the back.” I smile at the car wash attendant as I pay him. I couldn’t use my normal plastic in the car, couldn’t risk someone seeing me get in or out at the walking trails. They would have wondered what I was doing sitting in a car covered in plastic.

  So instead, after I left the trails, I drove to a law office that was closed for the weekend, parked, and changed in the back seat. While I was changing, I caught a glimpse of myself in the rearview mirror and froze, my blood turning to ice as chills broke out all over my body. I’d worn a black t-shirt, but apparently I’d been closer to the woman than I thought. They were spots of red on my right arm. I panicked, thinking back through everyone I passed. The woman and her husband were too busy arguing to pay that close attention to me, so I have to believe they didn’t notice. She would’ve definitely pointed it out. Seemed like that type of person.

  Three other people, maybe four? The carelessness made me nervous as I wiped the blood away. The baby wipes work the best. When Lisa from work asked why did I have baby wipes in my car when I didn’t have a baby, I told her they were great for cleaning up spills. As much as we travel and eat on the road, you’re likely to spill something. A napkin works okay, but those pre-moistened wipes work wonders. The next time we rode together, I noticed a container in her car and couldn’t help teasing her. If she only knew the real reason I purchased them.

  Everything went in the trash, and that was when I decided if I got the car washed and detailed inside and out it should help.

  While I wait for the Jeep to be finished, I look around. It never did rain. Turned out to be a nice day. There are seven or eight people ahead of me getting their cars washed. Two of them are reading, the rest on their phones talking or tapping away. When did we become so disconnected as a society?

  How clueless we’ve become. I’m changing. Becoming something hard. Forged in the fire of justice. Made out of steel and black iron. Improved and better. Not all the changes are for the good. I’m angry all the time. At everything and everyone. Disgust fills me when I look at people going on with their day-to-day lives, clueless about what is really going on in the world. The rage within shoves and bullies any feelings of kindness or happiness until I wonder if those emotions will suffocate the rest. Is it possible to kill goodness?

  As a child, I remember picking up one of Gramps’ horror novels. It scared me so badly I wouldn’t sleep with my bed next to the window for a year. It was a Stephen King novel, and when I told him about it, he laughed. Said I needed to name the thing I was afraid of. By naming something it would no longer scare me. So I came up with the most ridiculous names. Fluffy Poppyhead and Dumb Dumb Goofy Man. After that, I moved my bed back by the window. And now? Now I’m the scary story parents tell children at night. The thing under the bed waiting to grab them when they get up in the middle of the night. The darkness in the closet. The thing hiding behind the shower curtain. I’ve become the monster in the dark corner of the room.

  Even monsters experience fear. The emotion has become my constant companion. At one point I thought Jackson and I would marry. Not now. He has political aspirations. I’ve already ruined any career he might have simply by transforming into someone else. I fear getting caught and what it will mean to him. I bear him no ill will. Wish only the best for him. But not enough to quit.

  CHAPTER 35

  WHILE JACKSON PLAYS GOLF, I walk through the shops at the club. There’s a new place, part teashop, part gift shop. An advertisement in the window pulls me inside. We’re meeting his mother for brunch after Jackson and his dad finish playing.

  The salesclerk’s busy with another customer, so I look at the charms, trying to decide what I want. That one’s pretty. It’s called Sparkling Stiletto. Represents how people want to tiptoe through life without really knowing what’s going on beneath the surface. Sparkles on the outside and rotten on the inside.

  Another called Sunshine Diva calls to me. A pair of sunglasses. It says I can hide in plain sight. Women’s voices make me look up. They’re rehashing some kind of drama with an ex.

  “I told him, how dare you buy Lila a dog. He did it to get back at me.” The woman has been hitting the Botox a little too hard. Her face barely moves. Her friend murmurs something I don’t catch.

  “Oh, I fixed him. I took that disgusting, smelly mutt to the shelter.”

  Pain in my palm radiates up my arm. Looking down, I see my fists are clenched so tightly, my nail has broken the skin, a ribbon of red appearing in the crease.

  Pressing my hand tightly against my skirt stops the bleeding. It’s a busy print, so no one will notice. They move on and I resume looking through the charms. She’s lucky I’m feeling magnanimous today; otherwise I might have to teach her a lesson. You don’t throw away animals any more than you throw away children.

  Today I’m planning to purchase five charms. Three more to choose. The next one reminds me of happy times at my grandparents. Gram always had daisies. Whether they were printed on dishes or in a vase catching the light from a window, I can easily conjure up a picture in my head. The charm’s called Darling Daisy Meadow, and maybe it will help me remember there is still a little good in the world.

  “Sorry to keep you waiting. We’ve been awfully busy this morning. You’ve started a bracelet. Welcome to the club.”

  The salesclerk holds up her arm, showing off several bracelets on both arms. A mix of charms and bangles. Wiggles her fingers. “There are coordinating rings, if you’re interested.”

  “It’s a bit overwhelming. So many choices. My sister and I are new to collecting charms. These are actually for her. Thought I’d buy several today, so that way I’d have them. You know, like for birthdays, happy news, that sort of thing.”

  The redheaded woman leans down to open the case, sending a cloud of perfume my way. The smell hits me so hard I stagger back a step. It’s White Shoulders, the same perfume my gram wears. I didn’t know it was still being manufactured. It’s like she’s in the room with me, watching what I’m doing. Knowing my intent by the number of charms I’m purchasing.

  Memories assault me from every direction, flashing through my head like a movie on fast forward. Picnics outside in the garden, lazy days at the pool, sitting around a fire in the winter, playing in the leaves. And through them all I smell the scent of Gram. I see her basket beside her favorite chair. Full of fabric scraps as she works on a quilt. It’s almost too much, and I have to clear my throat.

  “There’s something going around. Let me get you a bottle of water.”

  The woman turns away and disappears through a door before I can protest. She comes back with a bottle of water.

  “Thank you. I think I inhal
ed dust or something.”

  “Make sure you’re staying hydrated. With this heat, it’s even more important. My nutritionist says I need to drink half my body weight in ounces every day. I’m not quite there yet.”

  It’s such a normal interaction but overlaid with so many memories that I’m having a hard time staying focused. I breathe in and out, remembering my daily meditations.

  “Could I see that tray? I thought I’d pick out five.”

  “You’re a great sister. My sister would buy me a charm from the dollar store and expect me to act like it was a diamond.” She sees my face and quickly adds, “Don’t get me wrong. I’m grateful when anyone takes the time to pick out a gift. But she makes mid six figures a year and is crazy cheap. The kind of person if you say anything, she twists it and takes it personally. Makes it all about her.”

  The clerk blinks at me. “I don’t know what came over me. It’s not like me to talk about my awful family. Totally unprofessional.” She tilts her head. “You have that kind of face.” Then she giggles. “You’d make a great spy. The enemy would look at your smiling face and reveal all their secrets.”

  “Don’t I wish.” I laugh with her. “Don’t worry about it. My sister can be a brat too. Too bad we can’t choose the family we’d like to have.”

  “Amen, sister.”

  She sets the charms I’ve selected on a piece of black velvet and runs her finger over them.

  “These are great choices. Did you see these?” She reaches to her left and pulls out a tray I didn’t notice.

  Right away I spy the last two I’m going to buy. I point, and the smile lights up her face.

  “So she’s one of those who believes there’s good in everything?”

  Something like that. The reality is the charm is to remind me that there is no happily ever after. But I can’t say that to this woman.

  “Oh yes. She believes deep down there’s goodness in everyone. An eternal optimist.”

  The fourth charm looks like a book, and says “once upon a time” on the cover. And the last charm is called, get this, Cinderella’s Pumpkin Coach.

  Both of these are perfect. They signify a loss of dreams. That fairytales don’t exist, no matter how much we wish they did. A perfect world is no more than an illusion. They’re good reminders to keep me on my path.

  She rings me up and I pay in cash. I’ve got just enough time to meet Jackson. My stomach grumbles, It’s about time you feed me.

  When I get home, I’ll add two of the new charms to my bracelet. Five people gone that will no longer harm another living being. Leaves me with five charms waiting for their place on my bracelet. A sigh escapes. I could buy charms by the bucketful and my work will never be done. My task is to do what I can in the time allotted to me. Tucking my purchases inside my straw bag, I walk into the dining room.

  CHAPTER 36

  ELISE BOLTON WAS FOUND IN a secluded area of the Clayton River Walk by an early morning jogger. Police have not disclosed a possible motive for the killing.

  The black phone goes into my pocket. The police should have said, “We wondered why someone hadn’t killed her sooner. She did horrible things.” Then again, if the average citizen knew what really went on, they’d hide shivering and afraid in their homes and the world would come to a standstill.

  “Hope. Hold up a minute.”

  “What’s up? You seemed a little upset during the session today.”

  Lisa frowns. “I don’t know what’s going on with you. Lately you’re so argumentative. We were just trying to talk through the reasons we should keep those three steps when you just went completely ballistic. Not to mention you threw me under the bus to our client last week. Whatever issues you’re facing, I’d like to help you fix them.”

  “Look, I appreciate you telling me how you feel, but I don’t have time for beating around the bush. When there are steps we can cut, we need to cut them and move on. Not sit around talking about it all day.” I do not have time for this today. “I’m sorry you’re upset.”

  Lisa chews on the end of her pen. Something she always does when she’s uncomfortable.

  “Don’t you hate how people say I’m sorry you’re upset when what they really mean is I’m not sorry at all but I’m trying to placate you?”

  “What exactly is it that you want?”

  “I thought we were friends. This new side of you has shown me all you care about is yourself. I was going to ask if you minded if I went out with Lewis. He has a big crush on you but he did ask me out for drinks. I was trying to be a friend. Friends don’t go out with guys their friends have first dibs on.”

  I blow out a breath. Be calm. She’s trying to be nice. “You’re right. I’ve been a witch lately. I’m dealing with a lot of personal stuff right now. I was out of line. Maybe we can have lunch next week and really catch up.”

  Turning away, I realize I haven’t answered her question. “And for the record, I don’t have any interest in Lewis. I’m still dating Jackson, so feel free to go out with him. I think you guys would make a great couple.”

  “Thanks, Hope. Maybe we can talk about whatever’s going on with you at lunch next week?”

  “Sounds great.” But I know I’ll never tell her what’s going on. Can you imagine how that conversation would go?

  “You want another beer?” Jackson opens the cooler by his feet and hands Grayson a beer. “Hope hates the stuff. Can’t stand the smell.”

  I wrinkle my nose. “All the more for both of you.”

  Jackson brought steaks. We’re spending the evening cooking out and swimming in the pool. It’s too hot to do anything else. He and Grayson have bonded. We invite him for dinner or just to hang out at least once a week.

  One of the things I like about this apartment complex is you can cook out and eat at the tables around the pool. They don’t mind if you bring down coolers and alcoholic beverages either, as long as nothing gets out of hand.

  When Gram called today, I got her potato salad recipe. Somehow I lost it when I moved. So many of her recipes are on those index cards. I worry they will get damaged. A few hours after we talked, I found a recipe journal online. I’ll paste the cards in the pages and work on typing them in a document on my computer in case anything ever happens to the journal. Gram is getting older. The thought of losing her makes me hold on to small things. She isn’t sick; it’s me sensing the passage of time. My internal clock telling me we all have an expiration date.

  You can’t have steak and potato salad without baked beans. And I have the best baked bean recipe ever. It isn’t mine or Gram’s. A girl in college used to make them at least once a month when she was feeling homesick. Before she graduated, she was kind enough to give me the recipe.

  Stretched out in one of the lounge chairs, Grayson plops down beside me.

  “Getting in the way of the grill master?” I tease.

  “He definitely knows what he’s doing. I offered to help but he waved me away.”

  “That’s okay; let him do all the work and we’ll enjoy the results.”

  He touches the edge of his bottle to my wine glass. Grayson looks at the bottle. “Plus he gets the good stuff.”

  “No kidding. I had heart failure when I saw how much this bottle of wine cost.”

  “I can hear you both. Nothing wrong with a good glass of wine or beer. You can keep your box o’wine.”

  Grayson is wearing shorts and a t-shirt, just like Jackson. Men have it so easy. Short and tees in the summer, jeans and long-sleeved tees in the winter. A few pairs of shoes. I look down at my sparkly purple toes. I need a pedicure.

  “Kevin said you’ve become quite the shot. I had no idea you were interested in target shooting.”

  By the look on his face, Jackson heard. “Yeah, Hope. How long have you been shooting?”

  They’re both looking at me. Why didn’t I go back and get the fake ID? Tell Kevin my name was Caroline Pope. What else can I do? I smile.

  “Women should know how to defend themselv
es.”

  “Here we go again. I thought we agreed.”

  “No, you agreed.” I’m sitting up in the chair, glaring at both of them. It isn’t Grayson’s fault, but I’m still mad.

  He holds up his hands. “Sounds like this is a touchy topic. I didn’t mean to cause any trouble.”

  “You didn’t.” I grab a beer from the cooler and take it over to Jackson.

  “I’m sorry. I was planning to tell you.”

  “Like you tell me a lot of things. At least this explains some of your disappearances.” He looks to Grayson, who is clearly uncomfortable at being in the middle of a spat.

  “Who’s Kevin?”

  “State highway patrol. Know him through work. He mentioned running into Hope at the range. We should all go sometime. See how good Hope is.”

  Damn good. Good enough you might put two and two together. “Sounds like fun. Jackson goes hunting a lot. He’s a great shot.”

  I give him a look. Grayson is listening to every word. The wheels are turning in his head.

  “Can’t we have a nice night? Talk about this later?”

  He lifts his chin to Grayson. “Sorry. No big deal.” Then he leans close, like he’s kissing me, but he says in my ear in a low growl, “This conversation is far from over. I thought I smelled gunpowder on you.”

  Grayson tops off my wine when I sit back down. He mouths, “Sorry.”

  Shaking my head, I stare at the other residents in the pool. Some are leaning against the walls, others swimming, and a few are, like us, cooking out on the other grills.

  “When are the layoffs happening?”

  I look at him in confusion. “What layoffs?”

  Jackson jumps in. “Sorry, honey. I know you didn’t want anyone to know, but I slipped and told him.”

  Why would he tell Grayson my company is going through layoffs? But I play along and raise a glass. “Here’s to hoping I’m not impacted.”

  “I’ll drink to that,” Grayson says.