Snow Way Out

by Christine Husom

  “No, the walking does me good. And I might stop by Erin’s on the way.” He would never come right out and say it, but out of all of us, Erin was his favorite. A few weeks back, he and another gentleman were sipping coffee at Pinky’s counter. Erin had just left the shop, and I overheard Archie say, “There’s a special place in my heart for that young’un.” Archie had made it clear on more than one occasion that during his time in Vietnam, he’d had a lot of sympathy for the little ones who lived in the war-torn country.

  “Archie, you’re a good person to ask this question. Have you seen a tall man, late thirties or early forties, who bikes around town?”

  Archie scratched at the whiskers on his cheek. “I guess I’ve seen a few guys like that. Don’t think much about it when they speed by. There’s the one who always wears those black pants the athletes wear, and goggles, too. With his helmet on, I can’t tell you how old he’d be, but probably around forty. There’s younger and older ones, too. Why is it that you ask?”

  “I keep seeing this man and I can’t place him.”

  “Well, if he’s got you all curious, maybe you should wave him down and talk to the guy.”

  “Maybe I will.” If someone else was with me, anyway. Hopefully Mark would spot him soon and find a way to talk to him.

  “’Bye, Cami.”

  “Have a good night, Archie.”

  Archie was mumbling to himself before he reached the door, and I wasn’t sure if he’d even heard me. He was one of the oddest ducks in the pond, but was very special to my friends and me. It was endearing how much he cared for us. The first time Erin, Pinky, and I met Archie was when we’d had a sleepover at Erin’s house when we were eight, and had hiked to Lakeside Park the next day. It was a bright summer morning and Archie was there, tall and wiry, down on one knee, his long fingers working to fix a chain on a swing set.

  We all giggled when we heard him talking, presumably to the swing. We stood and watched him work a minute until feisty little Erin interrupted his monologue. “Do you have an imaginary friend?” she asked. We knew what they were because Erin had had one when she was a very little girl.

  Archie jumped up as though he’d heard someone yell “Fire!” and turned to us. “What are you young’uns up to on this fine day?” I remembered how his gray-blue eyes had fixed mostly on Erin, and how they’d twinkled.

  “We came here to swing,” Erin said.

  “Well, then, it’s a good thing I fixed this here chain so you won’t fall and get hurt.”

  “Thank you, mister.”

  “You’re welcome. I best be getting back to work. And you have a real good time, now.”

  “We will. Thanks, mister.” Erin was doing all the talking for us that day.

  “I’d be obliged if you’d call me Archie. I’m sure I’ll be seeing you girls from time to time here, and then you’ll know who I am. Are you allowed to tell me your names?”

  At the time I wasn’t sure why we shouldn’t tell him. We’d all been cautioned about being wary of strangers, and Archie was as strange a person as I’d ever met, but not one of us was afraid of him.

  Erin raised her hand and pointed as she talked. “That’s Cami and Alice, and I’m Erin.”

  “It’s a real pleasure meetin’ all of you.” He picked up his tools and his long stride took him out of our sight in seconds.

  “I don’t think grown-ups have imaginary friends, Erin,” Pinky said.

  “How do you know?”

  “Because when you got older, yours went away. And my mom told me you had grown out of it. So there.”

  I shook my head and smiled at the memory of meeting Archie, and Erin and Pinky having their little squabble. There had been many over the years, but that one stuck in my brain. Probably because my parents had often commented on my imagination, yet I didn’t have an imaginary friend and was honestly a little jealous that Erin did.

  • • • • • • • • • • • •

  After I’d closed up the shops, I walked to my car still debating what to tell Pamela Hemley, and whether I should call or have a face-to-face with her. By the time I pulled out of the parking lot, I’d decided to at least drive to her house and see what happened. When I pulled up in front, it appeared dark inside, like no one was home. I breathed a sigh of relief, telling myself maybe tonight was not the night to talk to her after all. I took out my cell phone and dialed her home number to double-check. There was no answer and I didn’t leave a message. If she checked caller ID and wanted to call me back, that would be up to her.

  I wasn’t in much of a spying mood, but drove around the block and parked where I had a good view of Pam’s house, in case she came home in the next ten minutes or so. As much as I dreaded having the conversation and was fine with putting it off as long as possible, she had to know the truth. I turned off the car and watched the western sky turn shades of pink and blue as the sun prepared to go down for the night. A gentle breeze rustled the colorful autumn leaves, shaking some loose from the trees and sending them floating to the ground. I would have been content to stay there for as long as I was warm, but something shook me out of my musings.

  The lanky guy was riding toward me on his bike. The right side of his face was captured in the dimming sunlight. I picked up my cell phone out of instinct, I guess, and hit the camera button. But he’d ridden on by before I could snap his picture. Dang. I dialed Mark’s number.

  “Cami, what’s up?”

  “I saw the lone lanky bike rider again.”

  “Where are you?”

  I’d forgotten I’d have to tell him that. “On East Ridge Drive.”

  “What are you doing in that part of town? Are you driving around looking for the guy or what?”

  That was a better explanation than the real reason. “No, I happened to see him, that’s all.”

  “I’m climbing into my personal vehicle and will head over to that part of town. Should be there in a few minutes.”

  “I’ll cruise around, too, before I head home.”

  “Just to let you know, if the guy is riding around, minding his own business, I’m not about to stop him and harass him.”

  “Of course not. I just want to know who he is and why he seems to be just about everywhere I am.”

  “I don’t think I’ll be able to ask him that, either.”

  “I know. I’m mainly hoping you’ll recognize him so you can put me out of my misery.”

  “I’ll do my best.”

  I turned my car around in a driveway and drove where I hoped the rider had gone, but he had disappeared on me once again. Holy macaroni, he was fast. He had to have gone down a side street, but which direction? If I turned right, it was sure as shooting he had turned left. I took my fifty-fifty chance, turned left at the next block, and resisted a strong temptation to go faster than the speed limit. After a few blocks of no action, except a number of motion detection lights going on as I passed, I did a U-turn and headed the opposite way.

  I met Mark at the next intersection. I waited as he pulled up beside me then we unrolled our windows to talk. “I lost him,” I said.

  “No luck on my end, either. Cami, you might as well give it up. One of these days he’ll come in for a cup of coffee or a snow globe and you can talk to him face-to-face.”

  “Thanks for trying, Mark. We’re bound to run into each other sooner or later. Get back to your evening and I’ll catch you tomorrow.”

  “All right. And remember about your curtains and doors.”

  I gave him a military-like salute. “Aye, aye, Officer Mark.”

  He shook his head and closed his window. We drove off in different directions, and then I went back to Pam’s for one final try for the night. The house was still dark so I went home in search of a light supper and a lighter show to watch on television.

  • • • • • • • • • • • •

  I was dipping a grilled cheese sandwich into a bowl of tomato soup when the phone rang. It startled me and I missed my mouth and d
ripped soup on my chest. Not that I was jumpy or anything. I grabbed a dish towel and wiped my face and patted my chest to sop up the liquid. I reached for the phone and saw it was Erin calling.

  “Hey, Erin, you still have a visitor?”

  It took her a few seconds to answer. “Oh, you mean Archie? No, he was only here a little while. You know how he likes to check in to be sure all is well. Ever since Jerrell Powers broke in a few years ago, he sort of feels it’s his job to stop by on his way home.”

  “That’s not all bad.”

  “I actually kind of like it. It gives him something to think about besides trees and playground equipment.”

  “He could use another hobby.”

  Erin chuckled. “Pinky told me you two may host another class once things settle down. You could ask Archie if there’s anything he’d like to learn to make and invite him to participate.”

  “He seemed intrigued with the snow globe–making class. Now I feel kind of bad I told him and Mark to stay out of the way of the members who had paid for the class.”

  “Don’t worry about it.” Erin was quiet a moment. “The other thing Pinky told me is that you actually agreed to go to that Halloween party with a bunch of strangers and hosted by people you’ve barely met.”

  “I could ask Mark to be my escort if it’d make you feel any better.”

  “What would make me feel better is if you call them and tell them you can’t make it.”

  “I don’t want to disappoint them. Besides, what would I tell them?”

  “It’s not like you owe them anything, seeing as how you don’t even know them. You could say you have other plans.”

  “When was the last time I actually had plans on a Friday night?”

  “Try last Friday.”

  “Oh, yeah. That was a fluke, and we planned the class that night because we seldom go out. And I’m not going to lie to those women who are all excited I’m coming to their party.”

  “Tell them you forgot that was the same weekend you had Gophers tickets or something like that.”

  “Erin—”

  “Or you are going out with your friend, and I will be that friend.”

  “I really don’t get why you guys are being so silly about this.”

  “There you go, three against one.”

  “With all due respect, my friend, this is not coming up for a vote.”

  “Well, think about it some more and I’m sure you’ll agree it would be a dumb idea to go.”

  Dumb idea? That got my temperature up. My friends were treating me like I was an adolescent on my way into the proverbial lion’s den. I didn’t want to say anything I’d later regret so I left it at a mild promise and quick good-bye. “I will think about it, Erin. Gotta go, I’ll talk to you later.”

  I hung up and thought about the irony of the whole thing. I really had no interest in being the main entertainment at the party, sharing the gory details about Jerrell Powers, until my friends went over the top about it. I took a bite of cold soup then put it in the microwave to warm while I considered the best way to learn once and for all if Pinky, Erin, or Mark had any connection to Powers’s death. Deep down inside of me, I didn’t believe they did, but their behavior and the way they were treating me kept sending up red flags.

  I finished eating and went to my bedroom to change out of my tomato-stained blouse. It was silly to put on another top at that time of night so I got my flannel nightgown, robe, and bunny slippers out of the closet. I changed out of my day clothes into my nightclothes then sighed. It wasn’t even 7:30 p.m. and I was ready for bed. Way too young to be acting like an old fogy. Going to the Halloween party was probably the best thing for me to do so I didn’t shrivel up before my time. It wasn’t like my social calendar was full; I didn’t even have one. How pitiful was that? All work and no play, as they say.

  I moved hangers, searching in the back of the closet for the special costume I’d seldom worn. It was a replica of an ivory cocktail dress Marilyn Monroe wore in the movie The Seven Year Itch. I loved the style. I’d found it at an online costume site and ordered it, along with matching 1950s-style high-heel shoes that had open toes and straps that went around my ankles. Those extra few inches made my legs look longer and more shapely. The key was maintaining a graceful gait in them, which was a bit of a challenge.

  The dress had a halter-style bodice with a pleated fabric that came together at the back of the neck and closed with little buttons. The neckline was a little on the revealing side so I’d had it altered, especially since the dress left my arms, shoulders, and back bare. It showed enough skin. The halter was attached to a band that fit snugly from beneath the bust down to the waist. A belt tied on the left front side. The skirt was pleated and hung just below my calves.

  I lifted the dress to my face and sniffed it. I’d had it dry-cleaned, but it had been a couple of years since I’d worn it, and I wanted to be sure it was fresh. It had picked up a mild cedar scent from the closet, which was fine, and saved me a trip to the cleaners. I rehung the dress and dug through the stack of boxes where the shoes I wore for special occasions were stored. I found the ivory ones and pulled them from their box.

  I almost never wore heels over an inch or two high anymore and decided it was best to practice so I didn’t make a fool of myself clunking around on them the night of the party. Off with the bunny slippers, on with the sexy heels. A few seconds after I’d buckled the straps and had gotten to my feet, the doorbell rang. I made it as fast as I could to the door, thinking it might be Mark who had found the bicycler after all.

  The door was made of solid oak with no side window to peek out. “Who is it?”

  “Clint Lonsbury.”

  You have got to be kidding me. It’s too late to pretend you aren’t home so open the door and act cool. I opened it partway, half-hidden behind it. Clint was wearing jeans and a brown corduroy jacket. The light spilling from the living room cast a warm glow on his face and made his dark eyes sparkle.

  “How can I help you?”

  “I’d be obliged if you’d let me in, for starters.” He looked at my bathrobe. “Unless you’re entertaining someone.”

  I was once again rescued from thinking he was attractive by his assumptions and comments. I pushed the door wide open and Clint walked in. His eyes traveled down my body to my feet. “Quite the getup you’ve got on. The shoes are a nice touch. And explain the extra inches you’ve gained in height. Are you getting ready to go out somewhere?”

  Where was that hole I could crawl into? “No, just playing dress-up.”

  He started to smile, but changed it to a frown instead.

  “Not on your way to bed?”

  “Not this early. I wanted to get out of my work clothes and put my pajamas on, that’s all.”

  He gave a nod. “The reason I’m here is I need to talk to you about that character you’ve been seeing around town. Mark told me about it and was concerned because you’re concerned.”

  Thanks for siccing Clint on me, Mark. “Want to go sit in the kitchen?”

  He lifted his arm. “After you.”

  I’d forgotten I’d just finished supper until I saw the remains of my food on the table and cooking supplies on the stove and counter. I cleared off the table as fast as possible so Clint would have a clean spot.

  “You must be feeling better.”

  Where is he going with that? “What do you mean?”

  “Your kitchen is not as pristine as the last couple of times I’ve been here. You know, your cleaning therapy sessions.”

  “Right.” I did a wide sweep with my arm and brushed some crumbs on the floor in a gesture of mild rebellion.

  Clint raised his eyebrows and sat down. I joined him on the other side of the table. He said, “Tell me what’s going on between you and that bike rider.”

  “There is nothing going on. I’m curious about who he is; it’s that simple. I’ve been back in Brooks Landing for a few months now and have never noticed him until this past week. Wh
ich I guess doesn’t mean much. He could have just moved to town himself.”

  “Or lost his license so now he has to hoof it or bike to the places he needs to be.”

  A police officer would think of that scenario. “The part that makes me wonder is I get the impression that either he knows me or he’s got me under some kind of watch.” Another possibility popped into my brain. “He doesn’t work for your police department, does he?”

  “My police department? Why would you ask that?”

  “Because I find a body in the park, I accidentally leave my fingerprints on the weapon, and suddenly I move to the status of a possible suspect.”

  Clint cleared his throat. “If by some wild chance it turns out the man in question is a Brooks Landing police officer, I can assure you he is not on any kind of an assignment to keep an eye on you.”

  “Oh. Well, I guess that makes me feel better on that front, anyway.”

  “Tell me why you think he knows you or is watching you.”

  “Two reasons. The first is more of an impression, but a strong one. When we made eye contact the two times, he looked at me like he knew me but at the same time didn’t want me to know who he was. The second reason is he seems to be wherever I am. At least, on a bunch of occasions over the last week.”

  Clint laid his arm on the table and stared at me until I could no longer maintain eye contact. “It might be as simple as he is taken with your beauty and doesn’t know how to approach you.”

  His words and scrutiny sent my entire body into an immediate burn from the inside out. How I was able to restrain myself from sticking my head in a pail of ice-cold water is a good question. Clint saying I was beautiful was the last thing I expected to hear sitting there in my bathrobe and Marilyn Monroe shoes.

  He leaned in closer to me, resting his chest against his arm. “I didn’t mean to embarrass you. I’m sure you’ve heard that a hundred times.”

  “Um, well, not in so many words. Mom likes to quote that old saying, Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.” I tried secretly to kick off my shoes, but the ankle straps held them on tight.