by Kim Mckade
The boy went back to the table and picked up the box. “You should know, you’re the one who got them filled when we were in Abilene.” He shoved the bottle at Toby.
Toby studied the label. “He was supposed to take this at lunch.”
“I know that. And he didn’t, obviously. His pill for today was still in the box.” He jerked a thumb at Mr Davis, who sat limply in his chair and stared at the floor, mumbling incoherently to himself.
Toby handed Mr. Davis the glass and Jeremy gave him the pill. “He doesn’t like to take them. Whoever was supposed to check on him at lunch probably gave up. Here, Mr. D. Drink up.”
“Who was supposed to see him at lunch?” Toby asked as Mr. Davis meekly took the pill without incident. He swallowed the water.
“Don’t ask me, ask your mom. She’s got everybody on a schedule. You didn’t swallow the pill, did you, Mr. D?” He gently squeezed the old man’s jaw until his mouth opened slightly. “Uh-huh, I knew it. Trying to trick me, aren’t you? Gotta take another drink now. Wash it down.”
Mr. Davis swung his head away and batted at Jeremy with his hands. Jeremy took firm hold of his arms, though, and eventually Mr. Davis swallowed the pill.
Toby stuck his hands in his pockets, feeling like an intruder. “Does he always take his pills?”
Jeremy looked scornfully at him, as if he resented his presence there. “I guess so. Sometimes he misses the lunch one. It depends on who comes and checks on him.”
Toby nodded. He didn’t know quite what to say; Jeremy seemed to have everything in hand. “Who separates the pills out for him?”
Jeremy stood upright suddenly and sighed. “I do, okay? I do it when I come by in the morning. You wanna read all the labels?” He stomped to the table and grabbed a handful of pill bottles. “This one and this one are after breakfast. Then he takes another one of these after lunch. Then this one after dinner. The lunch one is supposed to keep him from getting depressed ”
“Is that why he’s like this now, because he missed the pill?”
“Are you even listening to me? I said it’s to keep him from getting depressed. He gets confused no matter what he takes. But if he takes the pill, he doesn’t get so pissed off about it.”
“Watch your language,” Toby said automatically.
Jeremy held the bottles out to Toby, his mouth tight. “Everything meet with your approval, Sheriff?”
“Actually, I was just thinking what a good job you’re doing with him. I hoped the kids would be able to take care of him, and you’re proof that it’s working. I’m really proud of you, Huckaby.”
Jeremy sneered and walked back to the kitchen. “Spare me, please. Are you gonna stick around here all night? I’ve gotta get the lady’s car back to her.”
“Actually, I have some work to do. Can you stay here with him for a while? I’ll pick up Corinne, and we can come by and get her car and take you home later.”
Jeremy waved him away. “Go. Get on with your do-gooder sheriff chores. Enjoy it while you can ”
Toby stopped. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Everybody knows you’re out of here. Old Man Buchanan says he’s gonna run you out of town. No way you’re getting reelected next year.”
“Is that so?” Toby cocked his head.
“Yeah, it’s so. He said he was gonna make sure you and your girlfriend both left town.”
“Is that right?”
Jeremy shrugged and took Mr. Davis’s cup back to the kitchen.
“What did he say about Corinne?”
Jeremy leaned against the doorjamb and crossed his arms over his chest. “Just that since he’s the president of the school board, he’ll make sure she doesn’t stay past the end of the semester. It don’t matter, though. She already got another job.”
Toby went perfectly still. “What?” he asked softly.
“She already got another job. In Atlanta.”
Toby crossed the room in two steps. “What are you talking about?”
Jeremy put up his hands. “Hey, it’s the truth. Don’t get pissed at me, I’m just telling you. She got this letter. They want her for this new talk show. They want her real bad, too.”
“How do you know about this?”
Jeremy cocked his head and met Toby’s eyes unapologetically. “I looked. The letter was in her desk drawer.”
“You need to stay out of her desk,” Toby said automatically. He sank to the couch and rubbed the back of his neck. A talk show? In Atlanta?
“She’s leavin’, man. Blowing off this Podunk, and you with it.”
Toby rubbed his face and tried to think. Why hadn’t she said something? “It was a letter?”
Jeremy nodded and plopped down on the couch beside Toby. “Yep, got it a few days ago.”
A few days ago. He’d seen her just last night. Why hadn’t she said anything?
Did it matter?
“Sounded like some old friend of hers,” Jeremy said. “They’ve been talking about it a while, from what I understood. Got sponsors for the show and everything. Sounds real cushy, huh?”
“Yeah, cushy. A talk show? Are you sure it was Atlanta? Maybe it was Abilene.”
Jeremy rolled his eyes. “I know how to read. It was Atlanta.” He clapped Toby on the knee. “Face it, man. You’re looking at taillights.”
Toby rose with a groan. “Stay here with Mr. D. I’ve got to go.”
Chapter 13
Corinne was waiting outside when Toby pulled up in front of the school. “Where’s Jeremy?” she asked as she climbed m the Jeep. She leaned across the seat to give Toby a quick kiss, but he turned his head and steered the car onto the road. Corinne quirked her brows, then silently turned to fasten her seat belt.
“He’s at Mr. Davis’s house. I’ll take you by there right now to get your car.”
“How is he? When Jeremy took him home, he was pretty disoriented.”
Toby pursed his lips. “When I left, he was sitting on the couch staring into space. Whoever was supposed to check on him at lunch didn’t give him his pill.” Toby slammed his hand against the steering wheel. “The idiot!”
“What’s wrong?” Corinne asked quietly.
“I just told you. These kids are old enough to do this, and this is their duty, part of their community service. They can’t even give a pill to an old man.”
“Which boy was it? Maybe I can have a talk with him.”
“Just don’t worry about it, okay, Corinne?” he snapped. “It’s my problem, I’ll handle it.”
Corinne looked at him and opened her mouth. But it was obvious he was in a rare temper, so she let it slide.
“Okay,” she said evenly. “Let me know if I can do anything.”
When they got to Mr. Davis’s, Corinne picked up her keys that Toby had dropped on the seat beside him. She retrieved them, then moved without a word to get out of the Jeep. Toby grabbed her arm. “Hang on,” he said gruffly.
She turned back, and he kissed her roughly, demandingly. She was too surprised and confused to resist. And even though he was obviously angry about something, she wasn’t afraid of him.
He pulled back, breathless, and wiped a hand across his lips, not looking at her.
“You want to talk about it?” Corinne asked quietly, leaning back against her seat.
Toby shook his head. “No. I’m just ..I’m sorry. Go home. I’ll talk to you later.”
“Are you coming over tonight?”
He shook his head again. “No. I’ve got some things to take care of. I’ll see you.. later.”
Corinne nodded and rolled her lips together. “Okay. I’ll see you.”
Later, Toby sat on Mr. Davis’s couch, one ankle crossed over his knee, staring into space. Mr. D. was in that strange, silent limbo that gripped him more and more often. Toby more than half wished he could join the old man there.
Atlanta. She’d told him she wasn’t going back into that business.
But if she wasn’t at least thinking about Atlanta, the letter woul
d be in the wastebasket, not her desk drawer.
And she’d never hinted that she might stay.
Toby dropped his foot to the floor with a thud, made a sound somewhere between a groan and a sigh, and scrubbed his face with his hands.
“It’s not always easy running the entire show, is it, Mr. Haskell?”
Mr. Davis’s thin voice startled Toby. He let his hands droop between his knees and looked at the old man.
“You have only yourself to thank, however,” Mr. D. said archly. “You’ve set yourself up with this responsibility.”
“Sometimes I wonder why,” Toby muttered, more to himself than Mr. Davis. But he knew why. It was his heritage. His birthright. And, therefore, his responsibility.
“Because the whole town worships you, that’s why. Ninety percent of these people believe you hung the moon. Of course,” Mr. D. said with a thin laugh, “the other ten percent want to string you up. But you relish that as well. Adds an element of excitement.”
Toby drew his head back. “I think your percentages are off a bit. A lot. And no, I don’t like it. I don’t like it at all.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “But like you said, I wanted the responsibility.”
Mr. D. rose on wobbly legs, then hobbled slowly toward the kitchen. “I’m going to heat a can of soup for my dinner. You are invited to join me.”
Toby hung back and watched, not wanting to patronize Mr. Davis by jumping in and taking over.
Mr. D. poured two cans of tomato soup into a saucepan. He waited until the soup bubbled on the stove, then reached over and flicked the burner off. He poured the soup into two bowls and placed them on the kitchen table, where Toby sat down across from the old man.
Mr. Davis slurped his soup quietly for a moment, then he laid down his spoon and looked Toby in the eye.
“You’re going to think this is none of my business, but so what. You wanted the responsibility because your father wanted you to have it. Any fool could see you would have done anything for that man. And I’m sorry, but I think he took advantage of your hero worship to manipulate you into a life you might not have chosen for yourself.”
Toby rubbed the back of his neck. “That’s not true,” he protested. “I’m happy doing what I’m doing. I care about this town—about this county. I care about the people in it.” Of that much, Toby was certain.
“Are you happy because you’re doing what you want, or because you know it’s what your father wanted?”
“What difference does it make? I’ve worked hard—my father worked hard—to make this town a good place to live, to raise a family. It’s a good life here.”
Toby looked at Mr. Davis, a little surprised at how strongly he wanted to defend his father. And to his surprise he found that he actually felt like his father. “My father taught me to face my responsibilities, not to walk away from them. I expect to work hard, to do as much as he did and more. It’s a privilege.”
“But is it a sacrifice for you?”
Toby opened his mouth to answer, then closed it again. Was he truly happy? Had his father been truly happy?
But of course he had, Toby thought. The man had been a hero. Of course he’d been happy.
“It’s not a sacrifice,” Toby said defiantly. “I’m here because this is where I belong. This is my home, and everything I could ever want or need is right here.” If Toby had heard his father say that once, he’d heard it a million times.
“Well, that’s very admirable. But I wonder if you really do have everything you need. Anyway, I meant what I said. You are a good sheriff.”
Toby sat down, a little dazed. What the hell had just happened? “Yeah, well, thanks. I guess.”
“You’re quite welcome.”
Mr. Davis went to bed not long after that. Toby didn’t feel like going home. Luke was at the station and he didn’t want to go there, either. He sat on Mr. D.’s couch in the dark, the bizarre conversation still running through his head.
Had his father been happy?
But that was ridiculous. Toby had heard him say many times that everything he ever needed or wanted was right here within Aloma county lines. He’d said it often.
Too often?
Had his father ever sat on an old man’s couch in the dark, feeling as if it were all out of his control, wondering what to do next?
The very idea was absurd. John Haskell had never spent a second of his life feeling unsure about anything.
“I’m trying, Dad,” Toby whispered into the dark. Though the words were new to him, he realized that the feeling was not. It was what he’d always done: tried to please his dad.
Toby sneaked into Corinne’s house a few hours later. He didn’t want to frighten her, so he kept as quiet as he could, tiptoeing into her bedroom. He slid into bed beside her and wrapped an arm around her.
She jumped, but she was accustomed enough to having him in bed with her that she wasn’t petrified.
“It’s okay,” he whispered. He nuzzled her neck. “It’s just me.”
She moaned softly and rolled closer to him, fitting her nose into the V of his neck. She wrapped her arms around his waist. “Hello,” she murmured sleepily
He held her that way for a long time, until she roused herself enough to raise her head. “No fair. You’ve got clothes on.”
He kissed her deeply, holding her tight, enjoying the feel of her, soft and warm and pliant with sleep, her bones seeming to have melted. A couple of months ago, she would have been terrified at waking to find him in her bed He had made a difference to her. He had, he swore to himself, his teeth clenched.
“I thought you were mad at me,” she said softly.
He shook his head. “No. I’m sorry. I was upset.”
“About Mr. Davis? Is he okay? Who’s with him now?”
“Mom came over to spend the night. He’s doing better now. Jeremy gave him his pills. Everything’s...everything’s okay.”
Corinne nodded and snuggled up to him again. “I’m glad you came.”
“So am I,” he whispered. “So am I.”
Later, after Corinne had drifted back to sleep, he smoothed her hair down and kissed the top of her head. “I’m trying, Dad,” he whispered into the dark. “I’m still trying.”
When she was a kid, Corinne had read a book called The Terrible, Horrible, No Good Very Bad Day.
She was having that day.
And it was the very first day back from Thanksgiving break.
To start the morning, her lesson plans had had to be completely redone in the five minutes before each class, because the films she’d ordered didn’t come in. She’d realized that she was a week behind in her grading. And she’d just learned that a school board member would be sitting in on her classes to observe her. When, they wouldn’t tell her. So she had that cheerful thought hanging over her head.
It became a moot point when she looked up to see Mrs. Meddlar leading a young girl into the English room during the lunch break.
Corinne put down her yogurt container and smiled. “Hi. Are you a new student?”
The girl giggled. Mrs. Meddlar said, “No, this is Katherine Hart. She’s the new English teacher.”
Corinne swallowed her first reaction, which was a snort of disbelief. “Really?” she said with a stiff smile. The girl looked all of five minutes older than the students she would be teaching.
Katherine nodded enthusiastically. “I’m graduating in less than a month, and already I have a job.” She grinned and clasped her hands to her chest. “This is it,” she said, doing a slow twirl around the room. “My first classroom. I’m so jazzed.”
Corinne kept the smile plastered on her face. What difference did it make how young the girl was, after all? Didn’t her obvious enthusiasm make up for her lack of experience? Isn’t that what Corinne had fought to get people to think about her in her early days of reporting?
But the bitter taste was still in her mouth at the end of the day during play rehearsal. She looked around at the stage full of students
who were in a worse mood than she was, and wondered why it bothered her so much that her days of teaching were winding to a close. Rather than being refreshed by the recent Thanksgiving break, it seemed the students were already getting burned out with preparations for the Christmas events, not to mention the looming midterms. Corinne knew just how they felt.
So it really made no difference at all to her that she’d been replaced without a word. So what if she was being tossed out like yesterday’s garbage? She was a substitute. That was the agreement, wasn’t it? Just one semester.
One person she was definitely not going to miss was Carl Buchanan He had grown progressively more surly and petulant as the days wore on. He was mad at the world since the fiasco with the football team, and specifically angry with Corinne. It seemed that being suspended for those few games had effectively ruined his life forever, and he wasn’t about to let anyone else forget it.
There was forty-five minutes left of the play rehearsal before she could go home. The way she was feeling, if she ever got out of this place, she’d never come back.
A shout sounded backstage. The back curtain billowed in for a moment, then a chair crashed over The students onstage whipped their heads around. They all rushed to the back of the stage.
Corinne hurried up the steps and slipped through the knot of students gathered at the back of the stage.
Carl kneeled on top of Jeremy, one meaty fist raised and aimed at Jeremy’s face.
“Stop!” Corinne shouted. She shoved at Carl’s back and toppled him over. “Get up.” She grabbed onto the back of his shirt and hauled him up.
His face was mottled red, and his fist remained clenched. She thought for a moment that he would strike her. His breath hissed out through clenched teeth. A trickle of blood ran down his chin, and one eye was already swelling shut. He wrenched out of Corinne’s grasp and swung away
Jeremy stood; his lip was split, and blood dribbled down from his nose.
“What happened?” Corinne asked. “Carl? Jeremy?”
Silence. The two boys glared at each other, and the students around them shifted uncomfortably, but no one spoke.