Elderberry Croft: The Complete Collection

by Becky Doughty

  “Oh.” Her voice was still small, but he thought he saw a flicker of pleasure on her face.

  “Yeah. Oh.” He rolled his eyes good naturedly. “So, just give me the facts, okay? Do I need to be worried about this guy, if he even is your husband-ex-husband-or-something-like-it? Or do I just need to ask him nicely not to show his face around here anymore?”

  Willow smiled openly now. “If it is my husband-ex-husband-or-something-like-it, asking him nicely will do just fine.”

  What was wrong with him? Why did that tiny glimpse of her smile make him feel like he’d been punched in the gut? Why did he want to see another one, a bigger one, to hear that ridiculous laugh of hers again?

  He started toward her, and she side-stepped, skittish as a wild animal in a cage. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he assured her, his voice brisk, but low. What was she so afraid of? “Just getting the door for you.” He flattened the mat with his foot, pushed the door open a little wider, and stepped back.

  She slipped out and scampered down the steps, turning around to face him on the last one. “Thank you, Eddie. Thank you for looking out for us girls, like Shelly said.” She tucked a curl behind her ear and grinned. “Enjoy those muffins!”

  Eddie just nodded as the girl scampered off, taking her sunshine smile with her. But he thought he recognized the smell of fresh cut pine lingering in the air inside his trailer.

  Chapter 4

  Husband-ex-husband-or-something-like-it. Eddie couldn’t get his mind off her words. That night, even the Laker game didn’t hold his attention for very long. “Ridiculous,” he muttered, shaking his head. “Complete nonsense.” But what stuck in his craw was the way she’d said those words. Like she was scared. Or wary. Or a little lost.

  For some inconceivable reason, it reminded him of when he learned about the golf-ball-sized tumor growing in his colon. Suddenly, at forty-one years old, he was reduced to a lost little boy, his self-reliance and confidence imploding into a mass of fear that writhed and whorled in the pit of his stomach. Every day became a battle between putting on a brave front and facing the world as though nothing was wrong, and climbing behind the wheel of his beat-up F150, and driving as fast and far away from the truth as he could.

  But the residents of The Coach House Trailer Park needed him—they always did. And he always answered the phone, the door. Each new day kept showing up, whether he wanted it to or not, and with it came wasp nests in the laundry shed, fallen branches in the rain gutters, and broken water heaters.

  When he finally worked up the courage to go under the knife, he told everyone he was taking a long-overdue vacation, and even his mother thought it was about time. She arranged for Donny to cover for him, and Eddie arranged for Doc to babysit Donny.

  Doc knew about the bag attached to the hole in Eddie’s gut. Once Leanne left, he had to tell someone, just in case there were complications. But Doc also knew how to keep secrets, because Doc had a few secrets of his own, and if there ever was anyone Eddie wanted at his back, it was the seasoned soldier. Eddie was big enough that he wasn’t afraid of the old coot when he went into one of his post-traumatic stress episodes, and if it came right down to it, he’d rather meet death at the business end of a loaded .45, than at the end of a long, painful illness, while being eaten up from the inside out.

  That was four years ago, and Eddie was no longer afraid of death. He was still a little leery about really living, but he’d grown accustomed to his lot in life, and comfortable in his lowered expectations.

  Then came Willow Goodhope. People all over the park were talking about her. Myra insisted she was an angel sent from Heaven to help prepare the way for those who’d be leaving earth soon. Al, in his trailer near the park entrance, confided to Eddie last month that he now kept his blinds open in the afternoon. “That little strawberry checks her mail every day at three-thirty, sharp. I set all my clocks by her,” Al explained, tapping the watch on his wrist, and blushing a little redder under his naturally ruddy complexion. Doc just grinned every time her name came up, although he never said a word.

  Donny, thank God, had yet to meet her, but now that he was living with Mom again, he would make it his business to do so, Eddie was sure of it. He clenched his teeth at the notion of his kid brother flashing his girly eyes at her. Surely, Willow was smarter than that. Surely, she was smarter.

  But what if she wasn’t? What if, while cut loose from Sheena, Donny figured out how to work his way under Willow’s skin? What if Donny learned the secret to making her smile, or even laugh, before Eddie did?

  What if—No! Eddie surged up off the sofa and stomped into the kitchen, jerking open the door of his brown refrigerator. The shelves were nearly empty. They were always nearly empty. He opened the cupboard door to where he kept his packaged foods and canned goods. Not much to choose from there, either.

  The basket from Shelly Little still sat at the end of the counter, and he crossed over to it, pulling out the last of the six muffins she’d given him, the one he’d been saving for breakfast tomorrow. He would call Mom in the morning and see if she’d scramble some eggs for him.

  Three bites in, the phone rang, startling him, so that he dropped the muffin on the floor. Cursing mildly, he scooped it up, brushed it off, and set it back in the basket before reaching for the handset on his desk.

  “Eddie here.” He sighed, preparing himself mentally for whatever emergency awaited him on the other end of the line. It was too late for social calls.

  “This is Shelly Little in Space #8. I’m sorry to bother you so late.” Eddie straightened immediately, the hairs on the back of his neck prickling his skin. This was the second phone call he’d received from the woman in so many months, and he knew, before she said anything else, exactly why she was calling.

  “He’s back, Eddie. He just walked by my place.” She sounded calm and steady, just as she had the last time she reported the stranger, her voice somehow soothing to his frazzled nerves.

  “I’ll be right there.” He almost hung up, but then brought the phone back to his mouth. “Thanks for calling me, Shelly.”

  “Of course.” Then the phone hummed in his ear, and he punched the end button with his thumb, tossing it onto the sofa as he passed by. He shoved his socked feet inside his work boots, grabbed the industrial-size Maglite off the coffee table, and thrust his shoulder into the door. Ironically, it stuck fast, and he had to push much harder than usual.

  Eddie made his way over the bridge, the moon bright enough that he didn’t need any extra light. He paused when he reached the walkway leading to Shelly’s front porch, but her house was shrouded in darkness, so he kept going. Apparently, she felt confident that he could handle the task at hand, and it bolstered him a little.

  Just around the bend, he spotted the man walking slowly, almost carelessly, his feet scuffling the gravel with each step. His hands were in the pockets of his pants, and he wore a flannel shirt, the ends flapping a little in the faint breeze sweeping down from the bank of hills behind the park. He clearly wasn’t going for stealth.

  “Hey.” Eddie spoke quietly, knowing his voice would carry and be easily heard. Sure enough, the guy turned to look over his shoulder, then stopped altogether, and waited for Eddie to catch up to him.

  They stood a few feet apart, just past Joe’s driveway. “What’s up?” He wasn’t interested in playing guessing games with the stranger, but his nonchalance left Eddie feeling uncertain about how best to address the situation.

  In the moonlight, the man’s face looked rather gaunt, the shadows making his features bold, and a little fierce. He kept his hands in his pockets, and nodded a greeting. “Hey.”

  “Can I help you? Are you here visiting someone?”

  “No. Just taking a walk.”

  It wasn’t the answer Eddie was looking for. He crossed his arms, filling his lungs with air, making himself appear even bigger than he already was. He knew how to do intimidating. “This is private property. If you’re not here at the request of
one of the residents, you’re trespassing, and I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

  Just then, a light blinked on in Willow’s cottage, and the stranger turned toward it. Eddie scowled at the raw hunger he saw etched on the man’s features. He flipped the switch on his flashlight and pointed it directly in the stranger’s face. “What’s your name, buddy?” There was no way he was going to let this creep leave now.

  The man turned and looked straight at Eddie, that emptied-out look still there, in spite of the bright light making him squint. “Christian Goodhope. Who are you?”

  Chapter 5

  The husband-ex-husband-or-something-like-it.

  “I’m Ed Banks. And you’re trespassing.” What the fool kind of name was Christian Goodhope? Sounded like an overgrown choir boy.

  “Trespassing? Come on. I’m staying on the road. Not bothering anyone.” Christian withdrew his hands from his pockets and Eddie narrowed his eyes in preparation for the stranger’s next move. “I’m just taking a walk.”

  “This is a private drive. You’re trespassing.” Eddie said it again while scrutinizing the guy’s features, memorizing them, making sure he’d remember them if the need arose.

  Christian turned away from the blinding beam of the flashlight, squeezed his eyes shut for a few moments, then stared openly at the cottage at the end of the drive. “That’s my wife in there.”

  Eddie flinched. He couldn’t help it. He was expecting the guy to claim as much, but he wasn’t prepared for the tangible anguish in his voice. It made him think of the harsh rasp of metal on metal, brake pads worn down to nothing, jerking, and catching, and screeching all at the same time.

  “That’s my wife, man.” When Eddie lowered the flash-light, Christian’s gaze swiveled back to look boldly up at the taller man, and he said it a third time. “That’s my wife.”

  “Not according to her.” Enough. Eddie wasn’t interested in this guy’s side of the story. Willow had made it clear she didn’t want him around, and Eddie intended to honor her wishes and send the guy packing. But not until after he spelled out a few things to this fellow.

  “That woman is none of your concern, Mr. Goodhope, not while she’s under my care, but I need you to understand something.” He paused for effect, then brought a fist slowly up between them, and pointed at his own chest. “I am your concern. I run this park, and you’re not welcome here.” With his other hand, he waved the heavy flashlight back the way they’d come. “Let’s go.”

  “Wait. Please.” Christian lifted a hand and pointed in the direction of Willow’s place. “I’m not bothering her. I’m just checking on her. I’m just making sure she’s okay.” His voice caught, and he cleared his throat, hard. “I just need to know that she’s okay.”

  “She’s okay. She’s more than okay. She’s doing great, as you can see for yourself.” The plants on the patio were in full bloom, the vines decorating the front of the cottage like lace in the moonlight. The place, glowing from the inside, looked like something out of a children’s book. “We’re taking good care of her. Let’s go.”

  Christian rocked back on his heels and laced his fingers together on top of his head. It almost looked to Eddie like he was trying to hold his skull together, like he might blow at any minute; not in anger, but in frustration, in pain. “Please,” he whispered, his voice breaking.

  Eddie sighed, his own frustration turning a little toward sympathy. “She doesn’t want you here, buddy. She told me so, herself. You need to leave.”

  Christian dropped his hands and lunged toward him, reaching out to grab at Eddie’s shoulders. Eddie deflected his grip with the flashlight, knocking both arms away with a sweeping blow.

  “Whoa!” Eddie growled. “Don’t touch me.” He was angry all over again; he’d been caught by surprise, and he didn’t like being surprised like this. Not in the dark, in the middle of the night, by a desperate man.

  But Christian didn’t seem to notice Eddie’s anger, and even though he let his hands fall to his sides, he leaned forward, his eyes large and bright in the glow cast by the moon overhead. “She talked about me? What did she say?”

  “Get it together.” The guy was losing it. “She didn’t talk about you. She just said she didn’t want you here. She asked me to escort you off the property if you showed up here again.”

  The younger man’s shoulders dropped, his gaze fell; everything about him seemed to deflate before Eddie’s eyes. Finally, he lifted his head and peered intently at Willow’s place again, until Eddie prodded him with a clipped command. “Move along. Let’s go.”

  Together, they strode in silence past Shelly’s, across the bridge, alongside Eddie’s trailer, then out toward the street. Eddie waited at the entrance of the drive while Christian walked down the way a little to the Dodge Ram parked on the side of the road. He stayed his post until the red truck disappeared into the night, then turned and headed back home, his shoulders drooping under the weight of what had just taken place.

  How in tarnation did he handle this? Should he tell Willow about his conversation with the man who claimed to be her husband? Keep it to himself? What if the guy was stupid—or desperate—enough to come back?

  “I don’t need this,” Eddie muttered, glancing heavenward. Not that he was talking to God. He didn’t talk to God, because God didn’t talk to him. He’d tried, back when he’d first been diagnosed, but when he didn’t get any answers, Eddie came to the conclusion that saving his sorry backside was the best he was going to get out of the Big Man upstairs. That was fine by him. Eddie figured he hadn’t done much of anything for God during the forty-plus years he’d been alive, so why should God do anything for him?

  Back on his sofa, he flipped on the television again, hoping to shut his head down for the night, but there was nothing on this late, at least nothing he wanted to see. He might as well go to bed; he’d deal with the Goodhope situation in the morning.

  But his sleep was restless, and he dreamed about Willow, running through the trees in the dark, barefoot, her wild hair flying out behind her, her features haunted by whatever pursued her. Moving covertly through the shadows, ever so slowly, but still keeping up with the terrified girl, was a man, or a monster, he couldn’t quite tell. Eddie kept trying to call out to Willow, to tell her to run to him, that he’d protect her, but every time he opened his mouth, only a raspy whisper came out, not even loud enough to be heard above the rustle of the wind in the branches overhead. Frustrated, he began to run. Maybe he could catch up with her before Shadowman did. So close, he reached out and grabbed at the flapping material of her coat, and she turned, her hair whipping him in the face, blinding him for just a moment. When he could see again, it was no longer Willow’s lapel he was holding, but his father’s, an empty look in his teary eyes, an empty bottle in his hands.

  Eddie woke with a start, his eyes popping open, his heart pounding like a bass drum in his chest. The morning had already made an appearance, and in the early light, he gazed at the pocked foam ceiling above him while he waited for his pulse to slow.

  Sitting up on the edge of his bed, he propped his elbows on his knees and cupped his forehead in the palms of his two hands. It was shaping up to be a long day.

  By the time he made it over to his mom’s trailer for breakfast, Donny was awake and in rare form. “I’m heading over to talk to Sheena,” he said in response to Eddie’s question. “And if she won’t lighten up, I’m done with her.”

  “Oh Donny, you be gentle with that girl. She’s like a daughter to me, you know.” Edith carried an iron skillet from the stove top over to the table and set it down on a trivet beside Eddie’s plate. “There you go. Eat up.” She turned back to her younger son, who was combing his hair in front of the mirror hanging on the wall next to the front door. “You look very handsome, Donny. She won’t be able to resist you.”

  Donny winked at his mother. “That’s the plan.” Eddie rolled his eyes, but said nothing. At least if he was going back to Sheena, Willow would be safe f
or a while.

  “So Eddie. Tell me about the new girl in Space #12. I hear she’s a hot piece of—”

  “Shut it!” Eddie ground the words out, much louder than he’d planned. “Stay away from her, Donny. She’s off limits.”

  “Oh-ho-ho!” Donny crossed the room and leaned against the counter, grabbing a freshly-washed mug from the dish drainer and filling it with coffee. “Off limits? What does that mean? Are you staking your claim, big brother?”

  “Boys, stop it.” Edith reached into the refrigerator for a carton of half-and-half and handed it to Donny. “The sugar’s on the counter behind you, honey.” Turning to Eddie, who suddenly wasn’t so hungry, she chastised him. “Your brother is just curious, Eddie. We all are. So tell us what you know about her. What’s her name again?”

  Eddie sighed and closed his eyes, trying to remember why he’d thought coming here today, in his sleep-deprived state, was a good idea. “Mrs. Goodhope. She’s married. Stay away from her."

  “What? She’s married? I hadn’t heard that!” Edith leaned against the counter beside Donny, sipping on her own cup of coffee. “So why is she living here alone? Don’t try to tell me she’s got a man over there. We all know she’s on her own.”

  Donny wore a mocking grin, reminding Eddie of the Cheshire cat from Wonderland. “I like married women. No commitment required.”

  “Donny!” Edith smacked his arm with the back of her hand. “Stop joking like that.”

  Eddie knew better; Donny was serious. “Stay away from her, Donny.” He said it again, his voice low, as he shoved a huge bite of egg in his mouth and chewed, wanting nothing more than to punch his kid brother in the teeth.

  “Maybe you should take your own advice, Eddie-boy. Sounds like you might be scoping things out for yourself.” Donny shoved off from the counter, gulped the rest of the creamy, sweet drink he’d made, and left the dirty mug in the sink. “I think I may just need to pay Mrs. Goodhope a visit. Warn her about how you get a kick out of preying on other men’s women.”