Who Loves Ya, Baby?

by Gemma Bruce

  Julie carried her things into the sun porch, savvy enough not to say something stupid, like how pretty she looked.

  But she was more than pretty. She was beautiful.

  When the cocoa was made and they both sat at the table with steaming mugs, too tired and wet to move from the kitchen, Julie said, “Thanks for helping me out.”

  Melanie shrugged, back in full Goth mode except for the mustache of chocolate on her upper lip. “I didn’t do it for you. I did it for the chickens.”

  “And for Wes?”

  Melanie shrugged, looked away.

  Everything was getting much clearer now. Julie and Cas hadn’t been the only kids Wes had mentored. He’d also taken Melanie under his proverbial and literal wing. No wonder the girl was so remote. She was in mourning, and she had no one to share it with.

  Tilda was right, thought Julie. You did need to share your grief. She sipped her cocoa and said, “Tell me about Wes.”

  Her words were met with silence. Melanie didn’t look up, just blew on her cocoa.

  “I mean,” said Julie, trying not to sound too sappy and turn the girl completely off. “I hadn’t seen him since I was thirteen, and now ...” She shrugged, hoping Melanie would fill in the blank. She did.

  “He’s dead.”

  Not exactly what Julie had in mind, and she didn’t say anything else. They drank their cocoa in silence.

  “He was lonely.” Melanie put down her mug. “Is that what you’re trying to find out? You and Cas deep-sixed him and he was lonely.”

  “He had you.”

  “Oh, yeah. That’s a consolation.”

  The bitterness in her voice made Julie wince. Melanie put down her mug and began tracing the squares of the blue and white checked table cloth.

  “I’m sure it was ... to Wes,” said Julie.

  Melanie lifted one shoulder, dismissing the topic. And Julie longed to say something. Anything to lessen her alienation. Because she knew just how it felt and she had responded in much the same way except there had been no Goths when she was thirteen. She had been so lonely down in Yonkers, with everybody going about their lives and her wondering what hers was going to be. And she missed Wes so much that she thought her heart would break. And now she was watching Melanie go through the same feelings and was helpless to soothe her pain.

  “What’s going to happen with you and my brother?”

  Taken aback, Julie blurted out, “Nothing.”

  “Try again,” said Melanie. “And if you say, I’ll understand when I’m older, I’ll think you’re as big a dickhead as he is.”

  “Really,” said Julie, trying to be honest with herself as well as with Melanie. “I don’t think there’s any future there, if that’s what you mean.”

  Melanie frowned and her hard façade seemed to fall away. “He’s not so bad. Actually, for an ex-suit, he’s pretty okay. But he’s a dumb fuck when it comes to some things. He’s screwing this up, isn’t he?”

  To her amazement, Julie found herself wanting to tell her everything.

  “Once,” said Julie. “We were best friends. Wes nurtured us and loved us like we were his own children. And we, I at least, took it for granted that it would always be that way. But then stuff happened and it was over. And then Cas went away to school and Wes sent me away. And that put an end to everything.

  “When I first came back here.” It had only been a couple of weeks, Julie realized. She felt as if she’d been here forever. “I thought—well, let’s just say that I thought maybe we could be friends again. It worked at first. But it can’t last.”

  “Because of Reynolds? Or because of Cas?”

  Julie shook her head. This girl was way too astute for her own good. “Both, I guess. And because of me. It’s too complicated to explain.”

  “Yeah, right,” said Melanie and stood up. “You’re too dumb to figure it out, so you’re leaving again.”

  “Well, I do have a life to get on with.”

  “No, you don’t.” Melanie hesitated, then said, “I don’t know if you know this, but Reynolds sicced a detective on you. He told Cas what happened with your job. But he didn’t tell him the truth. I read the report.” She shook her head. “I can’t believe you were a cop. That is so lame.”

  “No, it isn’t. I was a good cop.”

  “Big deal. I have to go.” She put her cup in the sink and stopped by the back door to put on her boots. “If you and Cas let Reynolds fuck this up, you’re both pretty fucking stupid. Thanks for the cocoa.”

  She stood in the doorway and looked around like it would be her last, then she was gone. Julie sat at the table, hurt and confused and wondering why this girl got to her the way she did. When she finally looked out the window, she could see Mel’s silhouette mushing up the hill toward Reynolds Place.

  Chapter 24

  It was dark and Julie was putting a log on the fire, which she had built herself, without a book, and she was feeling pretty smug, when her cell phone rang.

  She snatched it up and pressed talk.

  “Hey,” said Maude. “The phone lines are down. I’m at the Roadhouse using Tilda’s cell phone. I’ve been calling you all day and I’m drunk as a skunk. Where were you?”

  “Shoveling snow. And clearing the generator. It went out.”

  “Damn. I was afraid of that. The avenue is closed and I couldn’t get to you. Did you lose them all?”

  “No. The weirdest thing. Melanie came over and fixed it. You wouldn’t believe it, Maude. She knew exactly what to do. She was incredible.” And really unhappy.

  “Good for her. Thought she might come through. That girl needs a mother.”

  The same thing Wes had once said to her. “Yeah, she does. One that lives in this century.”

  “You managed to save them all?”

  “Yes. Though it was touch and go for a while there.”

  “Fine. Fine. Just keep the generator clear, and you should be okay. Are you going to be all right up there by yourself? Tilda’s been telling me about all the excitement you’ve been having.”

  “I’ll be fine. I’ve got Smitty and food.”

  “Then I’ll see you when the road gets plowed or the snow melts, whichever comes first. Call if you need help.”

  “Thanks. And Maude, don’t drive home.”

  “Not me. I’ve had several offers already. Hell, I should get out more often.”

  Julie was smiling when she hung up. She’d like to be down at the Roadhouse, too. With her ... friends. Shit. She had friends. Wasn’t that a kick? as Tilda would say.

  She sat back down in front of the fire. Smitty jumped up and ran to the door.

  Maybe she had spoken too soon when she told Maude she’d be fine. She grabbed the poker and followed him to the door.

  His tail was wagging, which didn’t mean shit. The Boston Strangler could be on the other side, and Smitty would be glad to see him.

  Julie raised the poker and cautiously opened the door, ready to brain Henley or Bo or anybody else up to no good.

  Cas was kneeling on the porch. He looked up. “Don’t!” he yelled.

  Julie lowered the poker. “How did you get here?”

  He stood up and picked up a pair of mesh snow shoes. “It took me two hours from the police station to here. Do I get to come inside?”

  “Sure.” She opened the door. “What is it with the Reynoldses and snow shoes?”

  “Mel’s idea. They seem to be the Goth travel mode of choice.”

  He stood in the foyer, shivering. He was wearing bright blue nylon pants and jacket. He began shucking off the pants. Underneath were a pair of snow pants and underneath that, a pair of sweat pants.

  “Interesting ensemble,” said Julie, thinking, just take it all off. I’ll get you warm.

  “The blue is my sailing gear. I didn’t want to die of exposure on my way to apologize.”

  Julie helped him out of his jacket. “Apologize? For what?”

  “For everything. For fifteen years ago and for putting
you through the same thing again last night.”

  Julie shook her head. “Cas, you don’t—”

  “Have to? Yeah, I do. I know I fucked up.”

  “You were a child then, and last night was nothing. I overreacted. I saw all those people and freaked.”

  “They were concerned.”

  “I know and I’ll thank them. Tilda explained a few things and I’ve done a lot of thinking since then. And none of this was your fault.” Julie reached up and kissed him. “You’re just juggling too many damn things at once.”

  “I can juggle one more.” He smile at her, tentatively.

  She smiled at him. “I was counting on that. Come sit by the fire. I made it myself.”

  He followed her into the parlor, sat down on the sofa, and pulled her down next to him. Smitty stretched out at their feet.

  “The county’s taking charge of everything until the snow melts,” he said. “Maybe it’ll last until spring. Then we can sail away.”

  Julie looked up at him. “Where would you sail?”

  “Wherever you want.”

  Julie laughed. “You’re awfully mushy tonight.”

  “Do you mind?”

  She snuggled against him. “Not in the least.”

  They sat watching the fire. Just sitting, no longer in a hurry. Growing drowsy as the night wore on. When the fire had burned to embers, Cas kissed her. “Do you care if we never find the answer to the riddle?”

  Julie shrugged. “I’m curious, but I think I already know a lot about it.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I’ll explain it to you over breakfast. Let’s go to bed.”

  Upstairs, Julie pushed Cas into her bedroom and closed the door. “Take off your clothes. I’ll be right back.” She hurried to Wes’s room.

  She came back a minute later and stopped in the doorway, her hands behind her. “Are you naked yet?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  She looked over to where he was propped up against the pillows, one arm resting on his raised knee, everything laid out for her like a grand buffet. His eyes widened. “Do you have lollipops hidden behind your back?”

  She shook her head. “Something better.” She lifted up the coil of braided rope she’d found in Wes’s bureau.

  Cas slowly began to grin. “Let me guess. Pirates.”

  “Oh, no,” said Julie, walking slowly toward the bed. She stretched the rope taut between her hands. “I have a new game.” She stopped to grin at him. “Put your hands over your head.”

  Cas’s arms lifted in the air and so did another very vital part of him. “What’s this game about?”

  His voice had grown husky and Julie basked in the warmth of his desire. “One I thought up not too long ago.” She took a step toward him. “I think you’ll like it.” Another step.

  Cas gripped the headboard and shifted his hips, ready for her.

  Julie snapped the rope and Cas’s cock jumped.

  Julie smiled. “It’s called...” She crawled on the bed and straddled him. “The Amazon and her slave.” And she wrapped the rope around his wrists.

  The next day another storm blew in, but the temperature rose and in the afternoon, the snow turned to rain. The trees whipped in the wind and drops pounded against the windows.

  “So much for being snowbound,” said Julie, looking out.

  Cas came up behind her and put his arms around her waist. He rested his chin on her head and said, “With any luck, it will ice over.”

  A fire was blazing, the house was cozy, and except for the time she had to spend outside with the chickens, Julie was feeling pretty damn comfortable. She knew it wouldn’t last. Life did go on after all. But she felt so content, so secure after all the craziness of the few weeks before, that she had a hard time remembering that it would soon end.

  Sometimes she would turn around and think she saw Wes where he should be—with her and Cas in the old house. Like the old times. And she grew melancholy.

  “It’s the weather,” she said. “It makes me miss him.”

  “I know,” he said. “Probably because he always came up with something fun to do when we were stuck in the house.” He laughed softly. “We could play Parcheesi, or Amazon and her slave again. I liked that a lot.”

  “Me, too,” said Julie. “I have an idea.”

  “I love it when you have ideas,” said Cas and gave her a squeeze.

  A few minutes later, they were walking up the stairs with a hamper of sandwiches, and a bottle of wine. On the second floor, Cas opened the door to Wes’s room and flipped on the overhead chandelier.

  When they stepped into the room, Cas stopped and looked around. “So that’s what the picnic is for. I haven’t been up here since we were kids. Wes had moved down to Maude’s by the time I got back. She didn’t like him climbing the stairs.”

  Julie walked to the windows. “Those were good days, weren’t they?”

  “Yeah,” said Cas and joined her at the window. “All those rainy days, when this was our ship and the turret was the crow’s nest. Well, shiver me timbers,” Cas said in a dreamy voice, and put his arm around her.

  “And remember how when the sun came out, you could see the patterns of the window on the floor?”

  “Yeah,” said Cas. “Fruit or something? What happened to them?”

  “One day lightning hit the finial and two of the windows shattered. The whole room got flooded. Wrecked the carpet and warped some of the floorboards. It was a mess. Wes had to move to the back bedroom. He replaced the windows with plain glass. See?” Only one still had the border of fruit and vines. She sighed. “I never came in here again until the other day when I was looking for clues.”

  Cas tightened his arm around her and they stood together, watching the clouds scud across the sky while raindrops pelted the house. Then they spread out the patchwork quilt, pulled pillows off the bed, and sat down to their picnic.

  “I like the new rug,” said Cas, handing her a glass of wine. “I remember the old one was so thin, your butt went to sleep sitting on it.”

  After they ate, they lay on the pillows, drowsy with food and memory and love.

  “Look, sun’s coming out,” said Cas.

  Julie looked out at the sky. “With the old windows you could sit in the center of the room and the fruit in the windows would reflect on your lap.”

  “Hmmm,” said Cas and pulled her close.

  “I miss those old windows. They were like magic.” Julie sat up, looked back at the windows. “My God, it’s a golden apple.”

  “Where?”

  “In the old window. Look.”

  Cas sat up. “It is a golden apple. Do you think ...”

  Julie pushed the leftovers away and sat down cross-legged in the center of the cloth, her hands palm up in her lap. A beam of sunlight fell on her knees, but no fruit appeared. She sighed with disappointment. “Damn. And I really thought. Oh, well.”

  She stood up and they gathered up leftovers and put them back in the basket. Julie folded up the quilt. “Dessert in my room?” she asked and smiled at Cas.

  Cas didn’t even look back. He was staring down at the carpet. “Look,” he said, pointing at a place on the floor.

  Julie looked. The carpet was moss green, and in the center, a medallion of fruit and leaves. In the center of the medallion was a huge, fat ...

  “Golden apple,” they said together.

  Cas folded the rug back and looked underneath. Most of the floorboards were still warped from the flood. He took out a pocket knife, knelt down and ran it along the seams between the boards. He shook his head. Tried another seam. And another. “Nothing,” he said finally and stood up, closing his knife.

  “Oh, well,” said Julie. “No matter.”

  They replaced the rug. Then stood looking at it.

  “A golden apple does appear.” Julie shook her head, picked up the picnic basket and carried it to the door. She took a last look at the rug before Cas flipped the light switch. The apple disa
ppeared into the dark.

  “Cas.”

  “Huh?”

  “Turn on the light again.”

  He turned it on.

  “Now off.”

  Cas frowned at her, but he turned off the light.

  “On.”

  “Julie, what are you doing?”

  She dropped the picnic basket and strode back to the rug. She looked down at the apple. Out to the turret windows. Then up to the chandelier above the rug. “How would you like to climb a ladder?” she asked.

  They found it hanging between the crystal drops of the chandelier. One small, silver key. With four numbers etched on its surface.

  “But which bank?” asked Julie, vibrating with excitement.

  “There are only two in Henryville. We’ll try both.” Cas looked out the window. “When Terrence finally gets around to plowing us out.”

  Julie sat back on her heels. “I hope it doesn’t take long. The suspense is killing me.”

  It was late morning on the following day when they heard the sound of Terrence’s plow. By one o’clock they were driving the Volkswagen to Henryville. The safety deposit box was at the Henryville Mercantile. George Quincy put his key in the one slot and Julie put hers in the other, the safe opened. The banker pulled the safety deposit box out, carried it to a small room and placed it on the table.

  “I’ll leave you now. Take your time.” He turned to Cas. “If you’re really interested in a position ...”

  “No thanks, but my father needs to come out of retirement.”

  “Reynolds? Driving everybody crazy, is he? Don’t believe in retirement myself. Tell him to come over and talk to me.”

  “I will. Thank you.”

  When he was gone, Julie and Cas sat down at the table and opened the box. The first thing they saw was a note in Wes’s scrawling hand.

  Dear Julie.

  Inside you’ll find two bank books. One is for Melanie. It should be enough to send her to college and get her started in life. She’s quite a kid, reminds me of you sometimes. She just needs some nurturing.