The Widow of Papina

by Katie Hamstead

  I stared down at him, covered in what looked like a combination of chocolate and syrup.

  She grumbled and returned to the kitchen. “This is so unlike you. When it comes to Jackson, you keep your head screwed on, despite everything else.”

  The water started running, and soon she returned with a tub of water and a jug of steaming water. She set the tub in front of me and lifted my feet into it. I winced. “What did you put in that?”

  She raised her eyebrow. “Your feet are blue, Bray. I’m going to warm them up before they get frost bite.”

  “Frostbite?” I looked out the window and saw the sleet had turned to snow.

  “You really switched off, didn’t you?” She shook her head with a frown. “Bray, you’re scaring me. This isn’t you. What’s going on?”

  “It was a year ago today.”

  She took a sharp breath, and her gaze fell. “Let’s warm you up before you get sick.”

  About an hour later, she had me wrapped in blankets, and the fire crackling away. I sipped at the tea she made me, while she took Jackson upstairs for a bath.

  The door opened and Sarah rushed in. She shed her snow-covered coat and shoes before she turned and saw me. She rushed over and sank onto the couch beside me. “Hey.”

  “Hi.”

  She grabbed my hand. “How are you doing?”

  I huffed and closed my eyes.

  “I bet.” She leaned back and rested her head on my shoulder. “We’re still friends, right?”

  “Mmm-hmm.”

  She let out a long breath. “Good.”

  We fell silent, listening to the sounds of Jackson laughing and playing in the bath.

  “Who’s here?” she asked.

  “Megan.”

  “Okay.” She patted my hand. “Did you need anything? I can run to the store, or make dinner?”

  My eyes opened and I glanced at the clock. It was almost five. How long had I stayed in bed? How long had I been out of it on the street?

  “Dinner would be nice,” I breathed.

  “Dinner it is.” She patted my knee and dashed into the kitchen.

  Megan returned downstairs with Jackson wrapped in a towel. She paused, eyeing Sarah’s coat, before glancing down the hallway. “Is that Sarah?”

  I nodded.

  She set Jackson on my lap and he snuggled into my arms. I smiled and kissed his head. “Thank you, Megan, for snapping me out of it. I don’t know what I would have done if something had happened to Jackson.”

  “Any time.” She stroked my hair. “I’ll stay tonight if you want.”

  I sighed. “Don’t Clint and Donny need you?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “Then, you should be with them.”

  Her brows furrowed. “I don’t want to leave you alone tonight. I’m worried about you.”

  “Sarah will probably stay.”

  Her eyes darkened. “Sarah?”

  I rolled my eyes. “Don’t start. She stayed with me for weeks the first time, and has—”

  “That was before . . . ” She lowered her voice and leaned closer. “Before Paul fell in love with you. I don’t trust her with you anymore.”

  “Megan.” I groaned. “Nova will be here too, so it’s not like she’ll do anything to me.”

  She pouted. “I don’t like it.”

  “Don’t like what?” Sarah stood by the door holding two bowls of tomato soup.

  Megan leaned back. “I hope you didn’t poison it.”

  Sarah rolled her eyes. “You’re so dramatic, Megan. Why would I do that?”

  She handed us a bowl each. “What did you want Jackson to eat?”

  “Whatever.” I shrugged.

  She hurried back into the kitchen.

  Megan leaned closer to me to whisper. “I don’t trust her. She’s reached a new level of crazy when it comes to Paul. Just be careful not to mention him.”

  Sarah walked back in with a tray of bruschetta and a small bowl of baby food.

  We ate in an awkward silence. I couldn’t help noticing the icy looks Megan and Sarah kept exchanging. Then, a knock on the door startled us. I jumped up to answer it, but Nova burst through and brushed right by me. She rushed up the stairs, then I swung around when I heard Paul huff.

  He removed his hat. “It was a bad day today.”

  “What happened?”

  “Well, as you probably know, it’s the one-year anniversary, so she wasn’t in the best of moods to start off with. Then, they brought out their theory of how it happened.”

  I gasped. “What did they say?”

  He scratched his head. “Can I come in?”

  I winced and glanced toward the living room.

  He didn’t seem to notice and pushed inside. “Dinner smells good.”

  “Sarah made it.”

  He paused, but it was too late. She appeared in the hallway with a wide smile across her face. “Would you like some?”

  He took a step back. “Ahh . . . ”

  “He’s not staying,” I interjected. “He’s just telling me what happened, then he’s leaving. Nova doesn’t like him here.”

  “Then, he’ll have time for one bowl.” She hurried into the kitchen.

  He looked at me. “You did try to warn me, didn’t you?”

  I gave him a nod, before gesturing for him to go into the living room. I shut the door and followed.

  He stood by the fireplace, so I returned to my place beside Megan. Jackson rushed over and latched onto his leg.

  Paul lifted him up and set him on his hip, but kept a somber expression. “Are you sure you want to know?”

  I nodded.

  “Okay, but it’s not pretty.”

  “I’m ready.”

  Sarah returned and offered him a bowl. He declined, nodding at Jackson examining his sheriff badge. She sighed and sat down.

  He looked me in the eyes. “Their theory is that he took her home where she tried to seduce him. He refused her, and left. He was seen again on security cameras back at the tribal buildings around 4:30 looking through some paperwork, before he left just before five in a hurry. They think she decided to catch him on his way home, and knowing he would stop if she hailed him over, she hid in the park.

  “When he got out of the car, they had an argument, and when he turned to leave, she shot him with her foster father’s bow—they don’t know what arrows though, because his didn’t come up as the weapons used. Then, in anger, she slit his throat with a pocket knife which she tossed away. But, realizing what she’d done, she dragged him to the river, dumped him in the beaver lodge, and kicked it in before making a run for it. When she was found a week later, she was half-starved and freezing, hiding out in a cave.”

  “But . . . ” I shook my head, horrified by the story. “She couldn’t carry Forrest that far.”

  “They explained that away, too. They found her fingerprints on the steering wheel, so she used the car to drag him down to the river by tying him to a rope and attaching it to the tow bar, then dumped the car.”

  I felt sick. “But . . . why was she digging for him in the alcove?”

  He paused, his eyes widening. “I . . . hmm.”

  He tapped his chin. “I’ll need to bring that up.” He smiled. “Nice thinking, Bray.”

  He grabbed his phone. “I’ll call the defense attorney right now and mention it.”

  He hurried out the door.

  Sarah leaped to her feet, holding his bowl, but slumped when the door shut behind him.

  “He just took Jackson,” Megan muttered.

  I chuckled. “Just give him one—”

  The door opened again and he set Jackson on the floor. “Sorry!”

  T
he door shut again.

  I hurried over and caught Jackson’s hand. He stared at the door, his lip quivering. “Paul.”

  I gasped and bent down. “Did you just say Paul?”

  He pointed at the door. “Paul.”

  I laughed. “Your first word!” I kissed his cheek, but my heart sank. It should have been Daddy.

  He burst into tears and turned to me to hold him.

  “Oh, Jack, it’s all right.”

  I returned to the living room and sighed. “I’m going to get him ready for bed and call it a night.”

  “It’s not even seven!” Sarah said.

  “Sarah, it’s been a rough day for her,” Megan said in a scolding tone.

  I glanced between them, too exhausted to deal with their drama. “Goodnight. Whoever is last out, please just lock the door.”

  “You and your city ways.” Sarah smiled and stood. “No problem, Bray.”

  I headed upstairs. I checked on Nova quickly, but seeing her room dark, and her curled up under the blankets, I didn’t disturb her. I put Jackson to bed, then collapsed on my own bed, falling right to sleep.

  Chapter 21

  Clanking in the kitchen woke me. As my eyes opened, I jumped. Nova’s head lifted, her eyes wide with surprise.

  “Nova, when did you come in?”

  She held up three fingers and rested her head back down.

  “You startled me.”

  She shrugged and closed her eyes.

  I swung my legs off the bed, grabbing my nightgown to head downstairs and see what Sarah was cooking.

  I entered the kitchen and she smiled at me. “Up for some crepes?”

  “Mmm.” I smiled. “Am I ever.”

  “I’m making a strawberry sauce to go with it.”

  “I might adopt you.”

  She chuckled. “I got Jackson out of bed. He’s sitting with a movie on, but I’m fairly sure he’s more interested in the toy guns.”

  “That doesn’t surprise me.” I sank onto a chair, resting my elbow on the table. “I’m fairly sure he thinks he’ll be the next sheriff. You should see him when Paul comes by to fix things.”

  Sarah flinched. “Oh, Paul still does that?”

  My cheeks burned. “Only about twice a week to do maintenance type things, like the yard work, or spiders on the porch—”

  “Are you having a secret relationship with him?”

  I took a sharp breath. “No.”

  “Because, it seems like it.” She glanced at me, with an icy look in her eyes.

  I shook my head. “No. I still haven’t let go of Forrest. How could I be in a new relationship?”

  “Hmm.” She flipped a crepe. “I’m not crazy, you know. I know Megan tells everyone I am, but I just know he’s the one for me. But, he’s been really mean lately, which I’m fairly certain is because Megan has told him to be. I hate Megan.”

  “Megan is my friend,” I said softly. “And, Donny is good friends with Jackson, and Clint is Paul’s best—”

  “I know!” She slammed the spatula down. “She thinks she has control over everyone. Everything was going just fine until Clint brought her here and married her. Paul had been dumped by that slut, and he and I were beginning to get somewhere, but then she starts telling Clint bad things about me, and he tells Paul, and now Paul is mean to me all the time.”

  “Sarah, I don’t think she—”

  “But, you don’t hate me, do you?” She turned and looked at me again.

  “No.”

  “We’re friends, despite all the bad things I’m sure she tells you about me.”

  “Sarah, she doesn’t say—”

  “Bray, I don’t have anyone else but you.”

  I bit my lip. My feelings for Paul suddenly seemed fickle. “I’ll always be here for you.”

  She smiled. “And, I’ll always be here for you. Come dancing with me this month. We’ll have a seriously fun girls’ night and forget everything.”

  “When is it?” I asked.

  “Well, you just missed the last one, so it’s three weeks away.”

  I hurried over to the calendar, and seeing nothing significant on that day, I marked it down. “There, it’s a date.”

  She beamed. “Bray, I’m so excited. I’ll make sure we have so much fun.”

  She finished cooking, and Nova emerged, shoulders slumped and hair everywhere. She yawned and collapsed at the table.

  “Are you hungry?” Sarah asked.

  Nova nodded.

  “I’ll trade you something then. Do these dishes and I’ll give you this food.”

  Nova scowled.

  I laughed. “Fair’s fair.”

  Her scowl deepened.

  “All you need to do is load the dishwasher. You can do it after we’ve eaten when there’s more dishes if you’d prefer.”

  She grumbled and rushed over to the sink.

  We spent the morning together, laughing and playing card games. All in all, it was a pleasant Saturday morning, with light snow setting off the cozy feeling inside. After the day before, I felt relieved for the simple happiness of the morning.

  ~ ~ ~

  I rubbed my temples. The day I had been dreading for weeks was finally upon me. Paul and Megan had come with me, and Mom flew in to help with Jackson, especially if I couldn’t handle the proceedings. Nova sat staring vacantly ahead, something she had become prone to do throughout the case.

  Finally, the prosecution called me to the stand. I took a deep breath and stood. I walked slowly, feeling every set of eyes watching me keenly; the widow of Papina taking the stand at her husband’s murder trial.

  I sank into the chair and the bible appeared before me. Taking a deep breath, I rested my hand over it to be sworn in.

  The prosecutor, an attractive man in his mid-thirties, stepped in front of me with a gentle expression. “Mrs. Miller. How old are you?”

  “I’m twenty-five.”

  “A widow at twenty-five?”

  “I was twenty-four still when Forrest . . . ” The words caught in my throat, and I fought to keep my emotions under control.

  “It’s all right, Mrs. Miller. Take your time.”

  I resented his fake sympathy, so swallowed back my pain for anger instead. “I’m ready.”

  “Forrest Miller, your husband, was the same age as you, correct?”

  “That’s right.”

  The prosecutor turned and glanced at the jury. “So young, too young even, to have his life cut short.”

  I frowned, wondering what he was doing.

  “Mrs. Miller, can you tell us about your relationship with your husband? What kind of a man was he?”

  I took a deep breath and told them about how we met, our wedding day, our marriage and anything else he enquired of me.

  Finally, he asked, “And, you have a son, don’t you?”

  “I do, yes.”

  “How old is he?”

  “He’s coming up on sixteen months.”

  “So, if I’m doing the math right, he was only three months old when his father was murdered?”

  I hesitated, a knot of pain forming in my stomach. I glanced across at Mom, whose eyebrows were furrowed, and her eyes full of pain. I covered my face as tears escaped me. “Yes.”

  “How did your husband feel about you and your son?”

  “He loved us,” I said through my tears. “More than anything.”

  “You were the person who reported him missing that night, weren’t you?”

  “Yes. He was never that late. He always finished up and came home in time for dinner. Nothing was more important than having dinner with us and helping me put Jackson to bed.”

  “But, he had
a criminal record. What do you know about his kidnapping and assault charges?”

  I shook my head. “He ran away with his sisters when they were sexually assaulted, and he hit my ex when he came after me. He wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

  The prosecutor turned to the jury. “Forrest Miller was a good man. He protected those he loved, and always put his family first. This proves he would have rejected the defendant’s advances, which, with her past, could have provoked her fit of rage.”

  He turned back to me. “Mrs. Miller, you are the same way as Forrest, aren’t you?”

  My jaw fell. “I don’t know about that.”

  “Humble. But, you took in Miss Garcia when no one else would, because you believed in your husband’s cause, to help the youth of the tribe. So, you believed you could help her, didn’t you?”

  I nodded, confused. “Yes—”

  “But, you didn’t know she’s been stealing from you, did you?”

  My jaw fell and I glanced across at Nova. Her gaze met mine, and she shook her head. I looked back to the prosecutor. “I doubt that—”

  He motioned for a video to be brought out. He played footage of Nova in town, slipping food from the store. My jaw fell.

  “The storekeeper saw the footage and put the cost on your tab. There are several stores in town with similar footage.”

  “I . . . I . . .” I stared at her.

  Her eyes pleaded with me.

  “I guess she thought she was looking after me.”

  “But, you barely have enough money to get by as it is. Were you aware that Sheriff Davis pays a portion of your electricity, water, and phone bills for you before you receive them, and your friend, Mrs. Clark, paid the rest of Miss Garcia’s bail for you? Your charity for the defendant is not appreciated as she takes advantage of your generosity.”

  My cheeks burned. I felt flustered, confused. Why hadn’t anyone said anything to me about any of it? I glanced across at Paul and Megan. I knew she took Nova’s bail payment, but she must have asked Paul to help me out, too. “No, I...”

  When Paul saw me looking at him, he glanced away, rubbing his hair to cover his face. He hadn’t wanted me to know.