by Julie Howard
****
The roads were buried in snow and the car slipped and fishtailed several times as she drove to work. Her breath was shallow and her hands gripped the wheel, traveling atop the unplowed roads. She was certain they would get stuck but the car kept moving forward despite her fears.
“Mom, why do people talk in different languages?”
Meredith leaned over the steering wheel, shoulders tense. “Not now, Jamie.”
“Hola means ‘hi’ in Spanish. Amigo is friend. Hola amigo is ‘hi friend.’” Her daughter bounced in her seat. “I’m learning this in school. I’m going to learn all the Spanish words. I can teach you if you want.”
The hardware store appeared in the distance, drawing close. “Hmmm,” she muttered, her attention now on the building.
“All my bunnies have names. Pinkie, Patches, Pumpkin, Poodles and Pico.” Jamie sang, and then repeated her song four more times. “Pico means small in Spanish.”
The best strategy was to acknowledge her daughter or she would repeat herself endlessly. “Okay.”
She edged the steering wheel toward the parking lot and brought the car to a stop. She peeled her clenched hands from the wheel, praying the sun or a plow would make the return journey less stressful. Curtis handled driving in the snow up the mountain in such a casual manner and she vowed one day she would be as accomplished.
Jamie ran ahead into the empty store, looping through the aisles and calling out her own inventory as Meredith turned on the lights. “Hi, gloves. Hi, light bulbs. Hi, wooden dinosaur. Hi, big metal things. Hi, aprons. Hi…”
Meredith dropped her schoolbook on the counter with a thud and settled in for the next few hours. She forced herself to concentrate on her homework, stopping every twenty minutes to do something with her kids. Her schoolwork took twice as long this way, but a five-year-old’s attention span is short, a nineteen-month old’s even shorter, and twenty minutes was stretching it to the limit. Pictures, puzzles, books, etc. were stashed behind the counter for Jamie’s visits. Atticus was more difficult since a toddler can’t be convinced to do anything, but Jamie was happy to entertain her little brother. Her daughter contained an endless reservoir of patience for him and called him 'My Att’cus.'
Last night. There was plenty to think about there. A kiss with Curtis turned into two, then three. She put the children to bed and returned to his arms. They progressed to the couch, first canoodling like teenagers and then…
The banging of the entrance door startled her from the memory. “Where’s Crusty? He’s late.”
The man was on the far side of middle-age with a weighty paunch that threatened the zipper of his jacket. Frown lines marked the edges of his mouth and red veins lined his prominent nose.
Meredith hopped off her stool and blushed as though he could read her mind. She glanced at one of the potato-themed clocks ticking in a corner. “He’s opening at noon. Like always. You have ten minutes.”
The man eyed the door leading into the bar. “Damn him to the next county and back. He knows I’m coming in. I’ll just wait in there.”
He edged toward the closed door and she hesitated a fraction of a second before stepping in front of him. “I don’t know…” she started, and then stood straight. “I can’t let you in.”
“Ten minutes. What’s the problem?”
She swallowed. Was her job to be a part-time bouncer as well? “You have to wait for Crusty.”
His mouth hardened, but he turned away without challenging her further. She watched as he roamed the aisles and hoped her boss wouldn’t be late. The potato clock ticked laboriously closer to noon. There was a rattling in the aisles as the man picked up items and set them down again with a clatter.
After a few minutes, he returned to the front of the store. “I know who you are.”
Of course, you do.
She fought the urge to roll her eyes. Was there no one within a hundred miles who didn’t know she was the widow of a murdered man? “You’re the gal who killed her husband.”
“No. I’m not,” Meredith protested, looking at her children huddled next to an old cassette player with a book on tape reading old nursery rhymes. Her anger at forevermore being identified in the community as a murderer boiled over. “I didn’t. You’re a rude man.”
The door behind the counter opened and Crusty poked his head in. “Hey, Merry. See you met our mayor. Yo there, mate.” Her boss directed this toward the mayor. “Hope you’re behaving yourself.”
The mayor shouldered his way to the door and Crusty let him through. “S’about time.”
Meredith shook her head in disbelief as the man walked to the far end of the bar and perched himself atop a stool. “The mayor? He doesn’t get my vote.”
“That’s what everyone says,” Crusty said, his shaggy eyebrows swooping down in his forehead. “No one else wants the job either so he wins by default, every year for twelve years now. Any customers?”
She shook her head again, and the large man’s eyebrows waggled one way and then the other. He lowered his voice. “I’ll just charge the mayor double for all the things he slipped into his pockets. You go on home now.”
Crusty shut the door, his long gray ponytail swishing behind him. Meredith heaved a sigh of relief. The peculiar characters roaming Hay City met their match with her boss, especially the city’s top official.
A shoplifting barfly mayor. Perfect.
****
They made a date for that evening. The closest restaurant was in Malady, but because the single cafe there opened only for breakfast and lunch, it wasn’t an option.
“I’ll make dinner,” Curtis proposed. “I make a pretty solid lasagna.”
“Then I’ll put together a salad and French bread,” she offered.
Canoodling the night before, at Meredith’s house, progressed impatiently forward when it was cut short by a wail from Atticus. They both froze from their position on the couch, waiting to see if her son’s fussiness would continue.
“He’s going through a phase,” she whispered. “He’ll settle down in a minute.”
But Atticus’s cries only grew louder and then Jamie’s sleepy voice rose above the squalls. “Mom. Atticus is crying.”
“I’m sorry,” Meredith said, her heart sinking at the interruption. “I need to check on him.”
She returned to the living room with a red-faced Atticus a few minutes later, patting his back as he lay his head on her shoulder. Curtis stood near the door, zipping up his coat. This led to the dinner invitation.
“Think Honey would babysit?” he had asked.
Now, she was at his door, he was opening it and pulling her into his arms. The salad and bread were cast aside on the dining table, set for two and where a single tapered candle burned.
She kicked off her shoes and clothes fell in a trail that led to his bed. She lost track of time as she focused on this man whom she loved whole-heartedly. It was nothing like Brian, nothing like the boy in high school. She almost cried at what she’d been missing all along and what could have been sacrificed to stay in a miserable marriage.
Later, a thought came to her out of the blue, making her gasp as she lay exhausted in Curtis’ arms. It wasn’t fair she would think of Brian at this moment.
He lifted himself onto an elbow and gazed down at her. “What?”
“Your lasagna,” she lied, averting her gaze. “It’s ruined.”
He grabbed her hand and drew her from the bed. “Lasagna is never ruined,” he said. “And I’m starving. Ready for dinner?”
They devoured the food, carving through most of the lasagna and scraping the last of the salad from the bowl. His gaze never left her and his cozy house was warm and safe. The involuntary thought that jolted through her in bed receded to a dark corner of her mind.
Twin Lakes, and all that happened there, was avoided by mutual agreement until they were finished with dinner, but she needed to know. “Just one question,” she started.
He answered the que
stion before she voiced the words. “It was a type of poison, but we’re not entirely sure what it is. The medical examiner goes up there tomorrow and Jacob’s body will be exhumed. We won’t know any more until we get a full report.”
Meredith nodded, satisfied in the knowledge an investigation was underway. But there was that memory again, bullying its way forward, the one making her gasp in Curtis’s bed. Damn you, Brian.
The taper burned lower and she was reminded of the lateness of the hour. If only the outside world could be patient and give them more time. Her children needed to be taken home to their own beds.
“Okay, tell me,” he demanded as she finally trudged to the front door. “You’re upset. If you’re having regrets, tell me now.”
She faced him, miserable knowing he could see through her so easily. Meredith considered lying and then confessed, “Today’s the anniversary of the day I told Brian I was pregnant with Jamie. It’s the day he proposed to me.”
The first three years of her marriage, this day was circled on her calendar as one of the happiest days of her life. The day was now engraved on her mind as her proverbial fork in the road; she could have decided not to marry Brian and so much pain would have been avoided. Years of her life wasted on someone who only wanted to hurt her.
“This would have been six years for us,” she murmured and then rushed to add, “I can’t believe I told you, but I want you to know everything about me. Good and bad.”
Curtis’s face had turned to stone. “Six years for you,” he muttered, but she heard the words clearly, the emphasis on ‘you.’ He was quiet for a moment and she was certain she’d ruined everything.
This day belonged to them and for something good and fresh, not to Brian. She held her breath and waited for his anger for ruining their evening.
“You would have been married for six years.” He spoke in a quiet voice, not looking at her. “Brian stopped being married a few years earlier. Didn’t he?”
Tears welled in her eyes at his hurtful comment. He touched her hand gently. “As long as we’re being honest with each other…I’m just saying you deserved someone better. You deserved someone who knew what marriage was all about and wouldn’t lie and cheat behind your back. He got you so you’re jumping at shadows. You deserve much better.”
Her tears welled over and fell down her cheeks. She let them fall without wiping them away. It was the nicest thing anyone ever said to her. He was right, she thought; Brian lied and cheated and Gemma was unlikely to be his first affair.
My husband got himself murdered and I almost ended up in prison for the crime. He left a mess for me to clean up. And, somehow, I feel guilty for all of it.
Her breath caught as she gazed up at Curtis, noticing the nick at the side of his jaw where he’d cut himself shaving and the crinkle lines at the corners of his eyes. Wrinkles from smiling, not from frowning, she noted.
“Here.” He reached out and wiped her tears away, then straightened the collar poking up from her sweater. “I guess this is a day for important moments. Can you add me to the list of events?”
Meredith stretched up for a long answering kiss.
****
“They wanted to stay up for you,” Honey said as she walked in the door. “I figured they might as well.”
Meredith stood frozen inside the doorway, staring at the scene in her friend’s living room. On the living room floor a baby was lying on a blanket, surrounded by stuffed toys and flanked by Meredith’s children. Atticus waved a blue stuffed elephant over the baby like the toy was an airplane.
“They don’t know who this is,” Honey whispered to her, clutching her arm.
“My baba,” Atticus said at the same time. “My baba.”
She glared at the other woman and her gaze swept the room. “Is she here?” Meredith demanded, eyes narrowed.
Honey shook her head, her expression all innocence. “Gemma dropped him off for the night,” she confessed. “What am I supposed to do, turn away my great grand baby? Anyway, look how sweet all of them are together. They play together so nicely.”
Her countenance was grim. Gemma’s baby. Brian’s baby. Dead or alive, every which way she turned, Brian was still there mocking her. “Jamie. Atticus. Time to go home.”
“No,” Atticus announced clearly. “My baba.”
Meredith’s breath came fast as she pushed from her mind the fact they were half-brothers. “Not your baba. Time to go.”
Atticus screwed up his face to cry, though her daughter rose calmly.
Honey’s hands fluttered. “The three of them get along so well,” she protested. “No harm done.”
Meredith refused to meet her friend’s eyes. There had been so much harm done in her life already. Jamie tugged a whimpering Atticus up off the floor and walked him to the door. “I want to go home,” the young girl announced. “I’m tired. Babies are too much work.”
Honey’s chuckle was a little too loud, covering the tension. Meredith didn’t break a smile at Jamie’s adult pronouncement. She swung a kicking Atticus up on one hip and shot the other woman another disapproving glare before something occurred to her.
“Thank you for watching the kids,” she said, her tone stilted and formal. “This isn’t the first time, is it? That they’ve all been here together.”
Her friend shook her head and then gave a sheepish shrug. “They’re just children. They entertain each other so well. I didn’t see the harm.”
Meredith gripped her daughter’s hand and led her out the door.
She vowed never to return.
Chapter Fourteen
As she’d learned in her life too many times, vows were made to be broken. Three days later, Curtis gripped her elbow and steered her through Honey’s front door.
“My baba,” shouted Atticus.
In the corner of the living room, Crusty set the baby down in his rocker and tucked a blanket around him. Atticus barreled headlong across the room on his chubby legs to the rocker, with Jamie following. They sat next to the baby, cooing and touching his hands while Meredith stood rigid with eyes narrowed.
She couldn’t stop staring at Gemma who stood at the tall stone fireplace next to Egan, who wore a satisfied smile. Finally, shaking off Curtis' hand, she turned to Honey. “What’s all this?”
“Come help me in the kitchen, dear.” The older woman disappeared around the corner, calling out as she went, “The potatoes need mashing. Gemma, why don’t you keep an eye on the kids.”
“Did you know?” Meredith spoke low to Curtis. He shook his head, looking miserable.
It was ridiculous that the possibility of others being invited to this Thanksgiving dinner never crossed her mind. She should have realized the woman would invite her own granddaughter and would want her new great-grandson there, too.
She noted Egan’s arm draped loosely over Gemma’s shoulders and wondered how their reunion came about, and how he’d gotten past Honey’s earnest dislike of him. Gemma, too, didn’t appear to mind Egan’s affection. Any lingering grief she might have suffered over Brian’s death was vanished. The girl, with a newborn babe at her feet, had moved on. Of course, I have too, she realized with a jolt.
She followed Honey into the kitchen. “We’re not staying.” Her friend handed over the potato masher and pointed at a steaming pot. “Give it a go, will you?”
She obeyed without thinking, heaving the masher into the soft white cubes, and took some solace in squashing them. On the counter behind her, her friend picked up a carving knife and attacked a massive turkey, slicing chunks of meat off the bone. “We really aren’t staying.”
Arching one brow, Honey set down her knife and opened the refrigerator. “What about your kids? You’d deprive them of my delicious Thanksgiving dinner out of spite? That’s not like you.” She set the butter and milk next to the potatoes. “Add a lot of butter. The whole cube will do. Keep mashing, no chunks. I like my potatoes rich and creamy.”
Meredith plopped the cube of butter into the pot
and splashed in some milk. What am I doing? Brian’s girlfriend and baby are in the other room. She set down the masher and turned to face the other woman, who was back at work on the turkey. “What were you thinking? How could you do this?”
Honey turned, holding the carving knife in front of her. Meredith glanced down at sharp, heavy blade, and considered that her friend was capable of just about anything. “All families have problems.” Honey waved the massive knife in the air dismissively. “But they’ll still sit down together at Thanksgiving and enjoy a meal together. Don’t spoil this for your children.”
Her children would have a fit if she made them leave. They wouldn’t understand and she couldn’t explain it to them. There was nothing back at her house to cook for a Thanksgiving meal and the grocery store was closed for the holiday. Honey trapped her into having Thanksgiving dinner with Gemma and the…child. Brian’s baby. “They aren’t my family.”
Her friend sighed and hefted the platter piled high with turkey, giving her a firm look. “Oh yes we are. We all are. You may as well get used to it.”
Honey carried the turkey to the dining room. “Dinner,” she announced cheerfully. “Everyone, come find a place at the table.”
****
Meredith didn’t speak during dinner. She kept her gaze glued on her plate and fiddled with her fork even as Jamie kept up a steady chatter. Curtis contributed a polite amount of conversation and Gemma, at the far end of the table, focused on the baby. Crusty, Egan and Honey discussed land prices while Jamie and Atticus just ate and ate.
“I love Thanksgiving,” her daughter announced through a mouthful of turkey while cranberry sauce rimmed her mouth. Everyone laughed except Meredith, who was determined not to enjoy one minute at a table where Gemma sat.
“Too,” added Atticus. “More.”