Back Against the Wall

by Janice Kay Johnson

When he stood to get another box, he spotted a black marker on the workbench. “Do you want to label these?”

  “Oh! Yes, that’s a good idea.”

  Tony dragged another large box from beneath the workbench. Through a crack between the folded lid flaps, he saw what seemed to be more women’s clothing. So far, this wasn’t proving any more informative than the master bedroom inside.

  “You and your brother seem to have some tension,” he commented, as he lifted out the top of a velour sweat suit—pink, of course. “Emily seemed to stay in the background.”

  Beth looked up with familiar wariness. He’d love to see a joyful smile on her face.

  “Losing Mom was really hard on her,” she said carefully. “She and Mom were close, maybe because they were a lot alike. Not just looks but personality and tastes. Although maybe their tastes had to do with their resemblance to each other.”

  “That seems likely. Pink was obviously your mother’s color.”

  That nose crinkled a little. “When I was little, she tried to put me in pink and purple, too. I felt like a moose when she made me wear some frilly, feminine thing. Once Emily came along, Mom gave up and let me wear whatever I wanted. It was obvious I’d never be girly.”

  “You don’t see yourself as feminine?” he asked, sharp enough to widen her eyes.

  “Well, not in the same way.” She shrugged, as if indifferent. Which he didn’t believe for a minute. “I like myself fine, but I’m certainly not dainty, or the kind of woman men rush to protect.”

  I would. Tony clenched his teeth to prevent himself making a claim that would be as bad as his earlier temptation to tell her she was beautiful.

  Color tinted her cheeks, and her eyes dilated at whatever she saw on his face. “Why are we talking about this?”

  “I asked about Emily.” Voice rough.

  Beth looked away from him. “There’s tension. She and Matt bickered all weekend. He didn’t want to be here and took offense at just about everything. Emily wanted those Christmas ornaments to remember Mom by, and she was really mad when he dumped them in the garbage, smashing them. And both of us shut her down when she wanted to go through Mom’s clothes to see if there was anything she’d wear. It was awful of me to react that way—”

  “No.” He startled her with his interruption, but he didn’t care. “It was natural. I’m more surprised she’d want anything of your mother’s, given that you all thought she’d ditched you.” Which reminded him that he needed to talk to Emily. Was there any chance she’d seen something to make her suspect that, in fact, her mother was dead?

  “She was younger than us enough that I always thought... I don’t know...that she wouldn’t remember Mom as well? Or...had adjusted better?”

  “She was twelve. Not five.”

  Her pale, clear skin colored easily. “I know, but...” Apparently giving up argument as useless, Beth said, “She has mixed feelings about me, of course. Suddenly, I was in charge instead of just being her sister. I think...she was grateful but also resentful. Which isn’t surprising.”

  “I can see that,” he admitted. “My parents were Catholic, which means they had eight kids. I think in most big families like mine, the older kids automatically assume some responsibility for the younger ones, but that didn’t mean there isn’t resentment.”

  Her eyebrows flickered. “I’ll bet you’re not one of the youngest.”

  Tony grinned. “No, I’m the oldest. How’d you guess?”

  “You wouldn’t have the job you do if being in charge didn’t come naturally for you. Quelling disorder, giving orders.”

  “Bossy is how my sisters describe me.”

  A dimple he hadn’t known she had flashed in one cheek. “You keep saying sisters.”

  “I have one brother, six sisters.”

  She laughed and shook her head. “Wow. The one of each I have are trying enough sometimes.”

  “Count your blessings,” he said, more seriously than he’d intended.

  Beth studied him for a moment, making him want to twitch. He wasn’t used to anyone trying to see deep into him the way he felt sure she was. It was unnerving.

  But finally she said, “Matt can be difficult to get along with. He’s been angry at Dad for as long as I can remember. Mom was our real parent. Having her walk out—that was hard for him.”

  Tony couldn’t summon any sympathy. Matt had been almost ready to graduate from high school. He hadn’t needed a mother anymore, not the way his sisters did. He should have dedicated himself to being their support, not thought only of himself.

  “I saw he graduated from Wakefield, so he did stick around.”

  “No, he went to the University of Washington his first two years. He could hardly wait to get away. He found summer jobs elsewhere, too. I was surprised when he transferred to Wakefield his junior year, but he’d decided it was more prestigious than a state school. And...well, I thought he wanted to be here for us.”

  Thought. Past tense. She must have quickly learned better.

  “What about you?” Although he felt sure he knew.

  “I went to the community college for two years. So I could live at home. Emily needed me.” She averted her gaze. “I finished at Western, in Bellingham, because Emily was a senior by then and not home much. Plus, Matt was back in town, if she needed one of us.”

  Dad being conspicuously absent from her decisions, Tony wasn’t surprised to note.

  She gave him a shy look. “What about you?”

  Her reciprocal curiosity pleased him. “Portland State. Just far enough away. And, yes, I grew up here, too.”

  A smile played with the corners of her mouth. “You and Matt, huh?”

  He groaned. “And yet, here I am.”

  She didn’t ask further but eyed him with that same open curiosity.

  “My father died,” he said. “He was a foreman for one of the vineyards. Tractor rolled on him. Several of my sisters and my brother were still at home. My mother needed me.”

  Something wistful flitted over her face. “It seems we have something in common.”

  “Yeah.” He had to clear his throat. “I guess we do.” He couldn’t make himself look away from her, and it seemed she had the same problem.

  It had to be a minute before she shook herself. “Shouldn’t we keep working?”

  “We should.” He stood to drag another box from beneath the workbench.

  * * *

  AFTER THE LINGERIE and another box of clothing that must have been taken from her mother’s dresser—jeans, T-shirts, long underwear, sweat shirts and the like—Tony suggested they call it quits until the next day. Not letting him see how relieved she was, Beth agreed.

  “Are you planning to stay?” he asked.

  “Stay? Oh, talk to my father, you mean.” Make dinner for him? “I’ll go in and check on him, but... I think I need a break.”

  “Understandable.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Did you get lunch?”

  “Sort of. I fed Dad.”

  “And pretended to nibble?”

  She made a face at him.

  “Are you hungry enough for an early dinner? I’m starved. I worked through lunch.”

  However casual he made it sound, the suggestion startled Beth. Maybe he’d have offered the same to anyone he was working with. Or was only being polite, or was concerned about her or—

  Apparently she’d been too slow to answer. Lifting the tape for her, Tony said brusquely, “If you’d rather just get home, that’s fine.”

  “No, I—” Oh, what was wrong with her? But she knew. “It’s just...aren’t we, well, not enemies, but adversaries? You were mad at me this morning.”

  “I was, but not for any defensible reason.”

  What did that mean? What reason for his annoyance was indefensible?

  “I was being a
n idiot, okay?” He locked the door and handed her the keys. “Let’s make it nine tomorrow morning, if that’s okay?”

  “Sure. I suppose I should warn Dad...”

  “He doesn’t teach summer quarter?”

  “Actually, he does have a couple of classes. An evening one, I think, and... I can’t remember.” She stopped when she reached the concrete walkway leading from the driveway to the front porch.

  Tony nodded at her and kept going toward the street.

  “If...if you meant it,” she said to his back.

  He stopped and turned slowly.

  “I’d better meet you somewhere. After I say goodbye to Dad.” She gestured toward the house.

  “What sounds good?” he asked. Cautious, she thought.

  “Pretty much anything.”

  “That’s no help.”

  “Mexican?”

  He nodded. “Okay. You know Tia’s?”

  “On Birch? Sure.”

  “I’ll see you there.”

  She kept going, wondering if she was crazy to go out for a meal with him. What would they find to talk about besides the investigation? Or did he intend to delve more into her memories?

  A quick call and she could cancel—but she didn’t want to.

  Fifteen minutes later, she parked in a nearly deserted lot beside a stucco building painted an eye-catching sunset orange. Tia’s wasn’t situated close to either college, or downtown with the high-end restaurants, boutiques and tasting rooms. Locals ate here, she’d discovered. One of Beth’s co-workers had recommended it.

  Entering, she paused to let her eyes adjust to the dim interior. The cool air felt wonderful, since the air conditioning in her car hadn’t really kicked in with the drive being so short. She saw Tony leaning against the front counter, talking with a dark-skinned woman whose hair was liberally streaked with silver. He was teasing her, and she swatted him playfully.

  Beth joined them. “Hola. Siento haberle hecho esperar.”

  His surprised expression gave her great pleasure. “You speak Spanish.”

  “I’m not entirely fluent, but I get by. I use it a lot on my job.”

  “That makes sense. Beth Marshall, meet my aunt Paloma.”

  “You’re Tia?”

  The woman grinned. “Sí. Tony—” she poked him with an elbow “—wouldn’t dare take a pretty girl anywhere else to eat.” She studied Beth. “I’ve seen you. You come here often.” Her nod held satisfaction. “Muy bien.”

  Beth smiled. “I love your food.”

  “Gracias. Now sit, sit. I’ll bring you a menu.”

  Tony obviously didn’t need one.

  Once they were alone in a booth, Beth said, “I can’t believe she’s your aunt.”

  “I stumble over family everywhere around here.” He sounded rueful. “One of my brothers-in-law is my car mechanic. One of my sisters is a nurse in the ER. An uncle has an auto body shop. A cousin owns a golf shop. I can get you a good deal on flooring if you want to replace that carpet, since another brother-in-law owns Best Flooring.”

  “Oh, my. I don’t know whether I should commiserate or envy you.”

  “Some of both,” he said wryly. “Aunt Paloma is actually one of my favorite relatives.”

  “Because she feeds you.”

  He laughed. “Maybe. Although Mamá feeds me, too, when I give her the chance.”

  “Wasn’t it...sort of lonely, away from family?”

  “Again...yes, and no. While you were at Western, didn’t you feel as if you’d been freed?”

  She wanted to lie and say of course not. But this was a rare chance to talk to someone also constrained by family. “I did,” she admitted. “It’s not like I was exhilarated. More...”

  His expressive eyebrows rose. “Relieved?”

  She nodded. “It always seems strange to me that most people my age aren’t close at all to their families. Maybe one reason I went into the work I do is to help make it possible for families to keep their elderly near instead of dumping them in nursing homes.” Okay, that sounded awful. “Don’t get me wrong—that’s the best decision in lots of cases. Sometimes, they need a level of care they can’t get any other way. Some elderly have insurance that covers a nursing home or memory-care facility, but not home care. And I don’t know about you, but if I end up senile in my eighties, I wouldn’t want my kids to devote their lives to taking care of me. I had a great-aunt who spent something like twenty years caring for her invalid mother, and got a break when she married and had kids before—guess what?—she spent the next thirty years or so nursing her husband. That’s too much.”

  His expression now was the furthest thing from cop. He had a way of looking at her that was outside her experience, so gentle and understanding, she wanted to lean on him and let him make everything right for her. It was actually a little bit scary, since she wasn’t very good at trust.

  “You’ve been taking care of your family for a long time, Beth.”

  “That’s different.” Hearing his aunt’s approach, she exclaimed, “Oh! I’d better make up my mind.”

  She’d intended to go for her usual burrito until she heard Tony order the pan con bistec, which he said was Cuban. He asked for fried plantains on the side instead of shoestring potatoes. In the end, he talked her into trying the classic ropa vieja, which was shredded beef stewed in tomatoes and spices.

  Before she could ask about the Cuban specialties included on the menu, he picked up the thread of their previous conversation. “I grew up in a culture where we depend on family. It’s comforting in a way,” he continued, “but it increasingly clashes with modern life in this country. Should our eighteen-year-olds turn down opportunities that would take them too far away? When they love their classes or have exciting jobs, are they selfish not to race home when summoned to be useful to a sister going through a difficult pregnancy or to parents who are getting so they need help?”

  How much had he had to give up to return to Frenchman Lake because his mother needed him? He hadn’t mentioned relationships, but the strain of distance would certainly snap those. “Doesn’t everyone face those dilemmas?” she said.

  What an odd conversation to be having with a man she’d known for only a couple days, it occurred to her.

  “I think it’s a little different for a lot of people. Two working parents. Grandparents who don’t live close by, cousins you see on Thanksgiving, if then. You aren’t going against the norm if you move to the east coast for a job, bring your own kids to visit their grandparents once a year, fly home only when a parent is having major surgery or dying. That’s all anybody expects.”

  “So what’s healthier for the individual?” she challenged him.

  He only shook his head, something that might be weariness ghosting across his face. “Don’t know.” He looked up and smiled past her, just as Beth heard footsteps. “Tia Paloma, you shouldn’t wait on us, too.”

  “Hardly anyone here right now,” his aunt assured him. “Hot plates,” she warned automatically, as she set them on the table. “Anyway, what should I do? Send your cousin Ana to take care of you? She’s too busy on her phone to remember to refill your drinks.” She shook her head. “That girl.”

  Tony grinned at her. “We’re all young once.”

  “Young, sí. Head stuffed with cotton candy?” She rolled her eyes. “No.”

  Tony laughed as his aunt hustled away. “Ana is sixteen, glad to have a job but wishing it wasn’t with her aunt for a boss.”

  “She’s not Paloma’s daughter, then.”

  “Nope. I have four sets of aunts and uncles here in Frenchman Lake, and another uncle in Walla Walla. You see what I mean?”

  Walla Walla was barely a forty-five minute drive.

  She offered him a twisted smile. “There was a time I’d have given anything to have an aunt and uncle right here in tow
n.”

  Of course, he understood immediately. “Someone who would have helped you, instead of depended on you.”

  Beth nodded. “I’m not sure anyone can ever truly see the needs and struggles and joys of a family from the outside.”

  “But that’s what you do all day, isn’t it?” He sounded unnervingly thoughtful.

  She met his eyes. “Isn’t that what you do every day, too?”

  His eyebrows knit. “I...hadn’t looked at it that way.” But then he smiled crookedly. “You’re right.”

  She returned his smile in a way she hadn’t yet dared. “Music to my ears.”

  His laughter was music to hers.

  Chapter Six

  TONY AUTOMATICALLY ASSESSED three men entering the restaurant. Ana was leading them to a booth a distance from Tony and Beth’s, when one of the men glanced their way.

  “Beth!” Lean and athletic, hair graying and face darkly tanned, he broke away from the others.

  Tony set down the sandwich he’d just picked up. The man, who appeared to be about her father’s age, looked first at Beth, then, with curiosity, at Tony.

  “What’s this I hear about you finding your mother’s body?”

  Beth set down her fork.

  Irritated, Tony thought, Thank you, that’s just what we want to talk about over our meal.

  “Dr. Schuh. Oh, um, this is Tony Navarro. Tony, Alan Schuh. Dr. Schuh was our pediatrician.”

  “And friend,” the man said firmly. “My wife and I got to be good friends with Beth’s parents,” he told Tony, who smiled noncommittally.

  “We did find Mom’s remains,” she admitted, voice constrained. “It’s been very difficult.”

  “Where did you hear about it?” Tony asked before she could continue. He saw the other two men looking their way.

  “I ran into Howard Farrar.”

  “The admissions director at Wakefield,” Beth murmured to Tony.

  “Ah. We didn’t meet, but I saw him.”

  Schuh’s gaze moved between them but settled again on Beth. “Are you all right? Sounds like Matt was pretty shaken.”

  “We all were, but...it’s a relief, in a way, to know what happened. That she didn’t leave us.”