by Judy Clemens
I threw my hands in the air. “So much for second chances. And what about all those neighbors?” I pointed out the window. “I don’t see them worrying about their safety. They’re out there wanting to make sure Lenny’s okay.”
“Stella,” Lenny said.
“What?”
He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter.”
“Are you involved in any illegal activity in your present life, Mr. Spruce?” Willard asked.
Crockett bent to talk to Lenny, but Lenny brushed him off. “Not a thing. I’m not involved in anything illegal. You can ask my lawyer.”
Crockett laughed at that, as did Willard.
“I respect your lawyer,” Willard said. “So I’ll bear his opinions in mind.”
He put away his pad. “There’s not much more we can do, I’m afraid. Since you can’t ID your attackers–”
Or won’t, I thought, irritated.
“—and you have no idea who it could be, we really have nothing to go on. They were wearing gloves, you said?”
Lenny nodded. “Leather ones.”
“Then it’s no good fingerprinting anything, either. So try to have a good night, Mr. Spruce. I’d make sure to lock all my doors if I were you.”
Willard tilted his head at the cops, and they filed out of the room.
I rounded on Lenny. “Are you crazy? Why didn’t you tell him what you’re afraid of?”
Crockett looked at Lenny with raised eyebrows. “What’s this?”
Lenny stood and walked to the far side of the room. “I’m not afraid.”
“Then you’re a moron,” I said. “You just got attacked in your own home. Assuming that’s true.”
He glared at me. “Of course it is.”
“Then tell us who it was. I know you recognized them. It was those two from the Biker Barn, wasn’t it?”
He shut his mouth, stubbornness etching itself all over his face.
Crockett stood, too, and put his hands on his hips. He lowered his head and stretched his neck from side to side. “Come on, Lenny. Tell us what you know. We can’t help you otherwise.”
Lenny crossed his arms and looked out the window.
“Fine,” I said. “I’m going home. If these people come back and put a bullet in your head, don’t come whining to me.”
Bart’s eyes widened. “Geez, Stella, don’t bother to mince words or anything.”
“Hey. I came over here to help. You know I’d do anything for Lenny. But if he refuses to help himself, there’s nothing more I can do.”
Crockett looked at Lenny. “That’s true, you know. We’ll do what we can, but you’ve got to come clean.”
Lenny remained silent, staring outside.
“Okay,” I said. “Call me when you get smarter.”
“Stella!” Lenny called after me. “Please. Don’t tell Lucy.”
Too angry to respond, I stalked out of the room.
Chapter Twenty-six
I didn’t even bother going to bed.
By the time I got home it was four-o’clock, and as soon as I gave Queenie some good loving and walked into the house I poured myself a big glass of orange juice and whipped up a batch of whole wheat pancakes. If I wasn’t going to be granted sleep, I might as well fortify myself for the day ahead. Although the rage in my chest was enough to keep me going for a while.
I turned on the TV to keep me company and was brought up to date on the tropical storm headed up the seaboard and probably our way. I glanced out the window at the still-dark sky. Couldn’t tell today’s weather at this point, but at least it hadn’t started raining and blowing yet. We’d see what the day brought.
By the time I’d eaten, the clock on the stove said it was four-fifty. Since I was tired and moving in sticky slow-motion, I got ready for milking, even though in reality I had a few minutes more to rest. If I started early I’d probably have things in order when the time came to pump the girls. The way my brain was working, I was afraid even with all my years at the job I might forget some part of the process.
Somehow I stumbled through work, and when Lucy showed up in the parlor after getting Tess on the bus I tried to keep my face hidden so she wouldn’t see my exhaustion.
“What’s up with you?” Lucy asked. “You look like you spent the night in the back of your truck.”
So much for hiding.
“Couldn’t sleep,” I said. It wasn’t a lie.
“Anything I can do?”
“Not right now, thanks.”
“Sure you don’t want me to finish up here?”
I looked at the vacant but dirty milking stalls and the cow pies on the concrete and decided I’d much rather take a break than shovel manure.
I jerked my chin toward the pitchfork and sank onto a bale of straw. “Thanks. You can change the station if you want. Don’t know if classic rock is your style.”
She smiled. “I’ll listen to just about anything. And I love CCR.”
I pushed myself off the straw and left her listening to “Around the Bend.” Queenie seemed as tired as me since she had waited up the night before. She didn’t bother to rise from her usual spot to follow me up to the house.
Before I knew it, I was awakened by a knock on the door for the second time in twelve hours, although this time I wasn’t lying comfortably on the sofa. My neck felt like someone had sat on it, but at least I had pushed my orange juice out of the way before my head crashed onto the table.
“Yeah?” I croaked. I cleared my throat and called again.
Lucy came into the kitchen and raised her eyebrows. “Don’t tell me this is where you’ve spent the whole morning.”
She was dirty and sweaty, and when I looked at the clock I was shocked to see it was lunchtime.
“Sorry,” I said. “Didn’t mean to leave you out there on your own.”
“No problem. Are you sure—”
The phone interrupted her. Afraid it was Abe, I let it go while Lucy and I stared at it. My voice mail clicked on and Bart started talking, his voice tinny through the machine’s speaker. Trying to look nonchalant, I snatched the phone off the hook in the middle of a sentence mentioning last night and the police, and turned my back to Lucy.
“I’m here. What’s going on?”
“Lenny’s home sleeping, which is where I’d like to be, too, but somebody has to run the store.”
“Poor baby.”
“Oh, shut up. Anyway, I called to say thanks. I know Lenny appreciated what you did, even if he acted like a butt.”
“I’ll forgive him someday, I’m sure. Any idea when he’ll be in?”
“He said after lunch. But I don’t know if he’ll want to see anybody.”
“Even me?”
“Especially you.”
“For heaven’s sake, Bart, I don’t understand why he’s being so weird about—” Remembering Lucy, I clammed up.
“I know, I know. Just give him a little time.”
“Whatever. Thanks for calling.”
“Sure. Later.”
I hung up the phone and took a second before turning back toward Lucy. She stared at me, hands on her hips, her eyes steely.
“Couldn’t sleep, huh?” she said.
“It was the truth.”
“What happened? Bart mentioned the police.”
I shook my head. “Nothing I can tell you about.”
She spun around and stomped toward the door.
“Come on, Lucy,” I said. “You’ve only known the guy two days.”
She paused, her back stiff, then continued out the door. I watched out the window as she ran up to her apartment, then back down. She pushed up the garage door and got in her car.
After five unsuccessful minutes of key-turning, she flooded the engine and laid her head on the steering wheel. I know this because I walked out to the garage and watched during the last bit of her swearing and beating the poor Taurus.
I went up to the
driver’s side door and leaned down to the window, not saying anything. Her face rested on her hands, and rivers of tears streamed through the dirt on her arms. I closed my eyes and said a small prayer. I’m not real good with crying females.
“You…you don’t trust me,” she snuffled. “All this stuff with Social Services, and that phone call, and the graffiti…you’re starting to believe it.”
I stood up and took a deep breath, feeling suddenly guilty about my call to Detective Willard. “Lucy….”
“I mean it,” Lucy said. “I thought I was fitting in here. I thought you liked me. And I thought…I thought Lenny liked me.”
“That’s exactly what the problem is.”
She looked up, her face blotched and red. “What do you mean?”
“I can’t tell you what happened last night because Lenny needs to tell you himself, if he wants you to know. He’d kill me if I spilled the beans, because he cares too much what you think.”
Her face brightened, and she sat back. “Really?”
“He’s embarrassed. And afraid.” As I said it, I realized that was why he was upset with me, too. It wasn’t because I was butting in, but rather because he didn’t want me to think less of him. Ridiculous.
Lucy sniffed and wiped her face with her T-shirt. “Should I go see him?”
“Bart said Lenny’d be in after lunch. Why don’t you wait till then, and give a call. If he wants to see you, I’ll drive you over if your car still isn’t working.” The thought flashed through my mind that she could take Howie’s truck, but I wasn’t ready to relinquish the last of his possessions to her. Besides, if I drove I might get to see Lenny, too.
“Okay.” Lucy left the key in the ignition of the car, which didn’t seem too risky, seeing as how it wasn’t starting, anyway.
“Come on,” I said. “Let’s get back to work.”
Chapter Twenty-seven
When Lucy called, Bart didn’t even bother asking Lenny if he’d see her—he knew the answer would be no. Bart said she should just come to the shop, and once Lenny saw her it’d be too late for him to do anything about it. So Lucy took a shower and I taxied her over to the Biker Barn. I went into the shop first, after I’d introduced her to Bart.
“Len?” I said.
He looked up from behind a beautiful blue and silver 1996 Road King and several emotions flashed across his face.
“It’s me, Lenny,” I said. “Not the Christian Women’s League.”
He went back to work, not saying anything. But two could play that game. I sat on a stool and waited him out.
Finally, he looked up and sighed. “You’re not going away, are you?”
“Eventually. Want to tell me anything?”
“You already know more than I like. You want to tell me anything?”
“Oh, come on, Lenny. What do you think I’m going to say? That I feel differently about you? That I don’t want to ride with you anymore? Is that what you want?”
He studied his hands, his face like a little boy’s.
“Cut me some slack here, Len. I’m not the ice cream mom. I don’t care about twenty years ago. Any checkers in your past are off the board as far as I’m concerned. So stop this shy schoolboy routine. It makes me want to barf.”
He looked at the floor some more, then finally grinned. “I wasn’t sure. But seeing as how you’re mouthing off as usual, I guess I haven’t scared you too much.”
I rolled my eyes and got off the stool. “You’re about as scary as my newborn calf.” I headed toward the door and pushed it open. “And now you’ve got another visitor.”
He looked apprehensive. “Who?”
“And don’t bite my head off. I didn’t tell her a thing.”
His eyes narrowed, then widened as Lucy slid in the door. He shot me one last desperate look and I left them alone.
“Okay, Bart,” I said. “They’re all yours.”
“That’s a joke, right?”
“Sure. You guys just make sure she’s home sometime before evening milking, okay?”
He made his hand into a gun and pointed it at me, cocking his thumb. I had just decided to ask him if he knew Lenny’s friend Mal Whitney when a couple of guys from our HOG club came in the door. It didn’t seem right to talk about Lenny’s problems in front of them, so I swung out the door, promising myself I’d check up on the guys later.
***
I had assured Lucy it was okay if she wasn’t home when Tess got off the bus, so at three-fifteen I whistled for Queenie and went out to the end of the lane, wondering what to tell Tess about her mother’s whereabouts. I wasn’t sure how Tess would feel about Lucy being with Lenny.
When the bus pulled up I immediately flew back fifteen years to before I had my license. I had started driving to school as soon as I could because I didn’t have a lot of friends on the bus. I was never sure if that was because I was a farm girl or because the Granger boys had made it clear what would happen to people who messed with me. But then, my personality isn’t exactly the homecoming queen type, either.
My mother was still around during my school bus days, her breast cancer not claiming her until I was a legal driver, and she would often have something wonderful and unhealthy to eat when I got home and trudged up the lane. Nice big cookies and fresh milk, or maybe a warm loaf of bread drenched in real butter.
The bus’ door made its usual whooshing sound as it opened, snapping me out of my memories, and Tess jumped with both feet off the bottom step. The driver waved and turned off her flashing red lights once Tess was safely in the drive.
“Where’s Mom?” Tess asked.
“Um, had to go somewhere.”
“Okay. I had orange pudding for lunch today.”
I blinked. So much for coming up with an elaborate excuse about Lucy.
“And a hamburger made out of beans.”
I laughed and watched as Tess skipped up the lane. Queenie yipped and did her own little trot, keeping up with the girl, who was still talking.
“We played kickball at morning recess, then in the afternoon they taught me four-square. You ever played that?”
I opened my mouth to reply, but she continued.
“A fourth-grader named Belinda said I have a long lifeline. She could tell just by looking at my hand. And I’m going to have lots of kids.”
“Wow.”
We got to the garage, where Smoky was waiting under the stairs. Tess scooped Smoky into her arms, nuzzling the kitten’s neck, then set her on the steps. She jumped with both feet onto the first step, which scared the kitten so badly she sprinted to the landing, her tail expanded to twice its normal size. Tess took her time jumping, holding onto the railing, and finally made it to the top.
Once inside the apartment, I helped her cut some chunks of cheese to eat with crackers, poured her a lemonade, and settled her on the sofa.
“Okay,” I said. “I have to get back to work. I’ll check in once in a while. Promise to be good?”
She grinned. “I promise.”
“Okay.” I wondered if there was something else I should do, but figured she was old enough to stay out of trouble if she wanted to. Besides, with her snack and her cat she had the next few minutes filled, at least.
I left her, and spent the next while trimming hooves on a couple of cows who needed a manicure. I tied them to a silver maple in the side yard where I could work in the shade and they could lie down while waiting their turn. The sky had turned overcast, and I hoped I could finish up the job before the rain started.
Zach soon came riding in on his bicycle and after parking it sat down on the grass with Queenie.
“What’s going on?” he asked.
“Lucy’s at the Biker Barn, Tess is in the apartment, I just got started here. You want to take some hay around to the heifers?”
“Sure. In a minute.”
After finishing the first cow, I left Zach and Queenie tussling and meandered toward the gara
ge to check on Tess. She wasn’t in the apartment, so I headed back out to see where she was hiding.
I found her around the side of the garage in the long grass, playing with Smoky. The only reason I could locate her among the weeds was that I heard her crooning to the kitten. On either side of her, outdated and unused equipment sat rusting in the tall brush, looming over her.
“Doin’ all right?” I asked.
She smiled up at me. “Isn’t she the greatest?” She held up her kitten, who looked like any other barn cat to me.
“She’s gorgeous. Be careful of this old equipment, okay? Don’t go climbing around on it.”
She glanced up at it like it had never crossed her mind. “I won’t.”
We both turned as Queenie started to bark, and a huge pick-up drove in the lane. I was surprised to see the brand-new-shiny Silverado pull up beside Zach, and even more surprised to see the well-tailored and handsome man who got out of it. He looked about six-three, a hundred eighty, and none of it bulged where it shouldn’t. His dark hair was trimmed into a sharp GQ cut, and he had a deftly trimmed mustache to match. I sighed and wondered what lawyer needed something from me this time.
“Uncle Scott!” Tess shrieked.
His head jerked our way, and Tess bounded out from the long grass toward the man. He reached out and she leapt into his arms, laughing. His smile grew wider as he spun her around, and when he finally stopped, he aimed the smile at me. It was a nice smile, but it stopped before it reached his eyes. The sadness there overtook any joy.
“Hi,” I said. “I guess you’re Uncle Scott.”
“That’s me. So you’ve heard the name?”
I shook my head. “Just now.”
His face dropped. “I see.”
“But then, they have only been here a few days. We haven’t talked about a whole lot of personal things yet.”
This seemed to appease him a little, and he set Tess gently on the ground, ruffling her hair.
“So how are you an uncle?” I asked. “You Lucy’s brother?”
His face contorted briefly. “No. Brad’s.”
“This is Queenie!” Tess chirped, standing by the collie. “Isn’t she great? And I have a kitten, too! And this is Zach.”