Chapter Four
“And then—and then—he had the gall to look surprised that I said no.” Abby stabbed the air with her chopsticks for emphasis.
“No way.” Heidi leaned forward, her eyes wide. “The . . . the twerp.”
“Exactly.” Abby nodded. “But I sent him on his way, and you know what? I feel remarkably better now. Which is why I came to see you and brought Chinese food.”
“I’m glad you did,” Heidi said. “Mark’s on call at the hospital tonight, and I’ve watched all the episodes of my show on Netflix. They’re supposed to be adding a new season soon, but I think they said that just to torture me.”
“Yes, that does sound just like them.” Abby set down the broccoli beef and reached for the sweet and sour chicken. “Kelsi says she loves the little cowboy hats you sent over. She had the girls model them for me—where did you find those?”
Heidi shrugged. “I don’t remember. Online somewhere while I was looking for new merchandise for the store. They were a little too expensive for us to carry as stock, but I couldn’t pass them up.”
“I don’t blame you. Pink leather? I want one for myself. Do they come in my size?”
“I’ll have to see if I can find the website again.” Heidi set down her container of lemon chicken and contemplated Abby. “So, what’s up with you?”
“Me? Nothing’s up with me.” Abby chewed and swallowed her next bite. “I’m fine.”
“I don’t think you are. You have that deeply contemplative look on your face that you always get when you’re deeply contemplative.”
Abby shook her head. “You should write greeting cards. You have such a way with words.”
“I know. But seriously, what’s up?”
Abby poked at a piece of chicken, but set the container down without taking more. “I don’t think I’m a very nice person.”
Heidi looked at her expectantly. “And?”
“And? What do you mean, and? You’re my best friend! This is where you’re supposed to leap in and tell me that I’m the nicest person in the entire world and that there’s nothing whatsoever wrong with me!” Abby folded her arms across her chest. “Comfort me or something!”
“I don’t think you are nice, Abby.” Heidi held up a finger to stop Abby before she could burst into her next tirade. “I think you’re kind, and there’s a difference.”
Abby scowled. “What do you mean?”
Heidi repositioned herself on the couch to face Abby more directly. “You would do anything for someone in need. I’ve seen you push people’s cars out of the snow. Well, you’ve helped—you’ve never done a whole car by yourself that I know of. You cry when you see commercials for the Humane Society. You’ve taken Jaclyn grocery shopping when she had car trouble. Those are all the acts of a very kind person.”
“Okay, but I still don’t follow.”
“Some of the so-called ‘nice’ people I know give air kisses and then talk behind people’s backs, or they help out when it makes them look good. I’d rather you not be nice. I’d much rather you be kind.”
Abby tilted her head to the side. “People give air kisses in Idaho?”
“Okay, maybe not literal air kisses, but you get what I’m saying. And I don’t mean Idaho in particular—I mean in the world. Sheesh—you’re making me work really hard to draw this analogy.”
“Yeah, I am … and I’m sorry.” Abby mulled that over for a second. “Okay, what if I feel a little bit miserable inside all the time, like the Grinch or Scrooge or … some other person who feels a little bit miserable inside? What do I do about that?”
“Do you have any idea why you feel that way?” Heidi asked.
“No. Part of me wants to blame it on Derrick, but I think I’ve felt this way for a long time, even before him.”
Heidi looked shocked. “There was life before Derrick?”
“Yes, smartypants. There was. I just need to remember what it was like. And what it felt like to be me.”
But that was the problem right there. Abby didn’t know what it felt like to be her. And she was starting to wonder if she ever did.
***
The UPS Store didn’t open until ten, and Abby pulled her car into the ranch’s parking lot at nine. She hoped Jaclyn wouldn’t mind an early morning visit—she wanted to be polite, but she also couldn’t wait until closing time. She was just a mess of bundled-up nerves.
Jaclyn met her on the front porch, holding a fluffy gray rabbit that she handed to Abby wordlessly as she let her in. Abby snuggled the rabbit into her shoulder and closed her eyes. Rabbit therapy was the best kind.
After a moment, she took a seat on the couch, the rabbit still in her arms, and was surprised to find tears in her eyes. “I’m not really sure why I’m here,” she said at last.
“You need someone to talk to. And here we are.” Jaclyn held out her hands to encompass herself and all the rabbits—and probably the fairies, too. “Child, you’re like a dandelion seed blown into the wind. You don’t have a stalk anymore, so you sail on the breeze, looking for a place to land. Always wondering where your stalk went.”
“You’ve got that right.” Abby wiped her cheeks and chuckled. “I’m sorry. I don’t usually cry.”
“Then it’s about time.” Jaclyn settled back in her chair. “The fairies say you’ve got a lifetime of tears backed up in those eyes of yours. To tell you the truth, though, I could see that for myself—I didn’t need the fairies to tell me.”
“Crying’s a waste of time,” Abby said automatically.
“Those aren’t your words. Who are you quoting?”
“My mother.” She answered before she meant to. Good grief—she’d come here to talk, but she didn’t think she’d actually talk. She just thought she’d get a few jewels of fairy wisdom from the ranch’s legendary wise woman and be on her way.
“And why was your mother opposed to tears?”
“Because they don’t fix anything. You can cry and cry and cry, and it will never do you any good.”
Jaclyn pushed a plate of snickerdoodles across the table toward Abby. “Tell me, little Abby girl, what did you cry for that you never got?”
“Um . . .” Abby’s chest felt like it would crack in two as all her emotions crashed down on her. “I wanted a real family. I wanted a mother who wasn’t so stressed out all the time. I wanted a pretty room, like I saw other girls have, with matching bedspreads and curtains. I wanted a Furbie.”
“Oh, no. Please tell me you didn’t want a Furbie.” Jaclyn closed her eyes as if bracing herself. “Those owl/squirrel/whatever things . . .” She shuddered. “What about a nice Barbie?”
“Yeah, I would have liked one of those too.” Abby wiped her eyes, figuring she was probably sticking rabbit fur to her mascara. “Most of all was the family. All that other stuff was just stuff.”
“Stuff always is.” Jaclyn seemed to listen for a minute, and then she nodded. “There are some pieces of yourself that are missing, but you can get them back. The fairies want you to buy yourself a Furbie. Trust me—that wasn’t my idea. I think those evil things should all be burned in some sort of giant landfill. Creepiest things I’ve ever seen.” She shuddered. “Other pieces will come in time. Be patient. You’ll find yourself.”
“Thank you, Jaclyn. I really appreciate it.” Abby had never considered buying herself a Furbie. She was twenty-four years old, after all—who buys toys for themselves when they’re twenty-four years old? But just the thought of it made her feel happier.
“Any time, my dear. And now I wonder if you could do a favor for me.”
“Of course,” Abby answered automatically.
Jaclyn glanced around. “I wonder if you could take a look at Gorgeous George on the way out.”
“Take a look at him? What do you mean?”
Jaclyn leaned forward. “I think he’s been sneaking out at night.”
Just when Abby had been thinking that this was the most normal conversation she’d ever had with the woman .
. . “What do you mean, sneaking out?”
“You know how you just get a sense about things? Well, I first became suspicious when I noticed that he seemed a little too far to the left. I got him moved back, but the next day, he almost seemed a little too back. And every so often, I’ll wake up at night and just have a sense that someone’s missing, but in the morning, there he is.” Now Jaclyn was all but whispering. “I’m going to sleep in my living room tonight and keep an eye on things. I have a super-powerful flashlight that I got from Charley while she was on rounds, and I’m going to figure out what’s going on.”
“Charley the security guard?” Abby asked.
“That’s right. It’s the kind all the cops use.”
“Okay. So, um, you’d like me to look at George?”
“Yes. Just . . . you know, get in his face, bare your teeth a little, show him you know he’s up to something. Show him who’s boss.”
“But I’m not boss,” Abby protested.
“Nine-tenths of intimidation is making your opponent believe that you’re tougher than you are. Please, Abby? For me?”
Abby put down the rabbit and stood up. “Okay. For you. But only because you’re you.”
Jaclyn beamed. “Thank you, dear.”
The walk down the path to confront a garden gnome was one of the longest of Abby’s life, and yet, she wished it could go on forever because she wasn’t crazy about what she was about to do. She came up to George, took a deep breath, bent down, got right in his face, and said, “We’re on to you, you cement cretin. Don’t even try any funny business tonight.” Then she glanced up at the house. Jaclyn was giving her a double thumbs-up, so she must have done something right. Then she continued on her way to work, shaking her head, trying to figure out what had just happened.
Chapter Five
Abby helped an older lady ship some River’s End Ranch T-shirts home to her grandchildren, then looked up as Reggie came in. His blond hair stuck up a little bit in front, like it did sometimes when he ran the back of his hand across his forehead. She didn’t know why she’d noticed that in the first place, or why she was noticing it again now. Weird.
After her conversation with Jaclyn, she was feeling a little bit vulnerable, and she’d decided that the best thing she could do that day was keep everyone at arms’ length. “Yeah?” she said when he approached and set his packages on the counter.
“Morning, Abby. First class on all these, please, and I need insurance on this one.” He tapped the box on top.
“All right. How much are you insuring it for?”
“Ten thousand dollars.”
She went to jot that down, but paused. “Did you say ten thousand dollars?”
“That’s right.”
Reggie Armstrong did not look like anyone who had ever possessed ten thousand dollars, let alone buying insurance to cover it. “I can only sell you insurance for the actual value of the item—I can’t add on perceived value or sentimental value or anything like that.”
“Oh, I know. It’s okay. It’s really worth ten thousand dollars.”
First she was asked to get in the face of a gnome statue, and now this . . . She didn’t like mornings, and there was a reason. “Okay. But if it’s not, this constitutes insurance fraud.”
“No worries.”
His cheerful face didn’t do a ton to reassure her. It also didn’t reassure her when he wrote “book” on the line where he was supposed to list the item of value.
She went ahead and did up the paperwork, calculated his total bill, and ran his card. The whole time, she was dying to ask . . . but she couldn’t. He’d have to volunteer the information himself, and he hadn’t.
“Here’s your receipt,” she said, handing it over.
“Great! Thanks, Abby. And hey—I wondered something. You said I’d owe you a hike or something. You know, for letting me get my package yesterday. Are you free on Monday after work?”
Oh, shoot. She did say that, didn’t she? But she didn’t mean it like, a date. She meant it more in that way people have when they say “Let’s do lunch,” but they really mean to blow you off. That’s right—“nice” people behavior instead of kindness. She had a choice here—what sort of person was she going to be?
She sighed.
She thought she did it in her head, but she must have done it aloud because Reggie said, “It’s all right. Another time.”
“No! I mean, no, Monday after work is fine,” she said, trying to sound slightly pleasant. That was hard work when she didn’t want to feel pleasant at all.
A broad grin spread across his face. “I’ll pick you up here at three, and I’ll bring a picnic.” Then he was gone, and she leaned against the counter.
She had decided to keep everyone at arms’ length, but instead, she’d just agreed to go out with someone. A person someone. Even though she didn’t really care for persons at the moment.
This was getting too complicated.
***
Reggie went over to the shed where they kept all the vehicles, signed out an ATV and trailer, then drove them around to the maintenance shed. There, he loaded up lumber and tools, ready to get started on those improvements Mr. Weston had spoken to him about the day before.
He drove over to the diner to grab a meal to take with him. Joni had just handed him a cheeseburger and fries to go when the door opened and Kelsi came in, looking a little flustered.
“Reggie! There are you are! I’ve been looking everywhere for you!” She paused. “And now I feel like a dork! I could have texted you. I think these babies are draining my brain cells!”
Reggie grinned at the two little bundles snuggled up against Kelsi’s chest. He hadn’t realized they made baby slings for twins. Of course, it wasn’t like he’d spent any time at all researching baby products. There were probably all kinds of things out there that he wasn’t aware of.
“How can I help you, Kelsi?”
“Not here!” she hissed. “Their spies are everywhere. Come with me.”
“Spies?” What on earth was she talking about?
He went outside, setting his food on the seat of the ATV and following her to the corner of the building. She looked around until she seemed satisfied that they were alone, then said, “I’m losing my mind.”
“What’s going on?”
She sighed. “Don’t get me wrong—being a mom is the best thing I’ve ever done. Shane thinks marrying him was the best thing, and he’s right, but there’s a best best thing, and it could only happen because of Shane, so it all counts, right?”
“Um, I guess,” Reggie said.
“It’s just . . .” She sighed again. “I’m so used to being active and involved in everything going on at the ranch, and now we’re doing naptimes and feedings and diaper changes, and I don’t get out as much as I used to. I need some fun, some real fun. And so in the middle of the night when I couldn’t sleep because the twins were taking turns needing to burp, I came up with a plan. And your name popped into my head as being the perfect accomplice.”
“What?” Reggie took a step back and held up both hands. He’d heard stories about Kelsi’s plans, and he didn’t want anything to do with such things. “I think I need to bow out of this one. I’m sorry.”
“Please? Pretty please?” She batted her eyelashes at him.
“I’m sorry, Kelsi.”
She fixed him with a look. “You realize I’m going to have to pull out the big guns here.”
“What do you mean?”
She lifted the light blanket that covered the babies’ faces. “Look! Look at them! And do you hear what they’re saying?”
“I don’t hear them saying anything.”
“Well, listen harder. ‘Uncle Reggie, please help our mommy. We need you, Uncle Reggie.’”
He laughed, knowing that he really had no other choice. “Okay, okay, babies. What do you need?”
Kelsi smiled triumphantly. “Well, you know how my brothers love to tease me about Bigfoot, right? And how
they invented that Bigfoot cologne and all that other stuff?”
“Yeah.” Those jokes were pretty much legendary.
“I want to prank them back. Will you help me place Bigfoot evidence up on the mountain?”
“What? Are you kidding me?” Reggie didn’t know what he’d been expecting, but it wasn’t that.
“Yes! I mean, no, I’m not kidding you. I’ve got it all worked out, and I’ve got tons of help. Amber, Ellie, Jess, Chad—they’re all going to pretend to have seen something or heard something. Miranda and Bob even want to get involved, if we can come up with something for them to do.”
Reggie couldn’t believe she’d gone through all this trouble. “And you chose me … why?”
“Because you’re the outdoorsman. You’ll know exactly where on the trail to leave the evidence, and how to place it to look the most realistic.”
He laughed again. “All right, you’ve got me. This does sound pretty epic. When do you want me to start?”
“You’re heading up the mountain right now, aren’t you? Take this with you.” She fished in her pocket and brought out a plastic bag full of hairy furry stuff.
He took it, but he didn’t want to take it. It looked highly suspicious. “Um, what’s this?”
She grinned. “Hair. Bigfoot hair.”
“You found Bigfoot hair?”
“No, silly. See, I have this friend named Sheila—she’s cut my hair and Dani’s forever, and we just hired her to work in the salon here at the spa. Anyway, I called her, and she saved snippets from all the haircuts she did the rest of the day, and then she sort of stuck them together and made those hair clumps. You can put them on bushes, fences—whatever seems really authentically Bigfoot-like to you.”
Reggie laughed again, this time so hard, it hurt his stomach. “Remind me never to get on your bad side,” he said at last. “I’d regret it forever.”
“I do pack a punch, don’t I?” She grinned again. “I was thinking—you place that hair while you’re doing your repairs, and let Amber know when you’re done. She’ll talk to Wes, all worried and wifey, and she’ll tell him that she’s been hearing strange noises. She’ll plant the idea in his head. Then you ask Wes to go inspect your work, he’ll see the fur, and Operation Big Brother Smackdown will be underway.”
Delivering Destiny (River's End Ranch Book 23) Page 3