by Dylann Crush
A couple of months. That’s all it should take to fix the place up and then I could move back to Dallas until it sold. Surely I could endure Robbie that long?
I pulled out my phone and sent him a text.
Made you a peace offering. It looks like pie. Can I drop it off?
While I waited for a response, I loaded the food into the car. Mrs. Cahill lived in a neat little two-bedroom rambler on the edge of the small downtown area. A white picket fence outlined her well-kept, postage-stamp size front yard and an American flag hung proudly from the porch post. Her place blended in with the neighbors—a row of pristine houses that lined the main street through town. Small-town America at its finest.
Not much had changed since the last time I’d been downtown. I shut the car door and strolled down the sidewalk. The soft breeze brushed against my exposed shoulders, playfully lifting the hem of my skirt. Unlike the hot June evenings in Dallas, it was almost pleasant outside. An orchestra of cicadas played their music in the golden hour of early evening. I’d forgotten how loud they could be when they joined forces.
I reached the shopping district: two blocks showcasing the best Swallow Springs offered. The Rexall Drug had gone out of business, replaced by a new Walgreen’s. Another Starbucks took over the storefront where the old ice cream parlor had been, and the Lovebird Café had “Gone Out Of Business” painted in giant letters on the front window. Across the street, about halfway down the block, a familiar tiny black and white sign hung over a doorway.
At least the Paperback Exchange was still there. I crossed the street to check out the hours listed on a small card in the front window. It was closed now. I’d have to come back another time. As I took a seat on the bench in front of the used bookstore and waited for Robbie to text me back, I closed my eyes and let the familiar smell of the tightly-packed used bookstore float around me.
“Keep pedaling!” Robbie looked back over his shoulder. We were both ten. How could he be going so much faster than me? The pedals of my pink Schwinn spun so fast I thought they might fall off.
“I’m going as fast as I can!” I yelled back at him, my words blowing behind me, never reaching his ears.
A huge semi-truck lumbered toward us on the two-lane highway. Robbie glanced back at me, his feet pausing on the pedals. “Watch out, Cassie. Here comes another one.”
The wind whirled around me, sending my hair into a tangled mess as the truck roared past. The force of its wake pushed my bike to a forty-five degree angle. The edge of my pedal caught on the gravel, sending me sprawling down the embankment and into the shallow gulley running parallel to the road.
By the time Robbie circled back, I was clutching my knee to my chest as blood trickled down my leg and into my sandal.
“You okay?”
Giant hot tears coursed down my cheeks but I didn’t make a sound. I took in a ragged breath and held out my hand so he could help me to my feet. “Yeah.”
Robbie bent over, picked at the few sharp pebbles embedded in my knee and put his arm under my armpit, helping me hobble back up to our bikes.
“Can you make it the rest of the way?” His eyes reflected his worry. We had no business riding our bikes the ten miles into town. But he knew how excited I was to get my hands on the new Harry Potter book, so he’d come up with a plan. It would take us about an hour each way. We’d be there and back again before his parents got home from work. As for my grandma, she always volunteered at the hospital in the next town over on Tuesdays. Grandpa was sound asleep in his chair, and I’d left a note that Robbie and I were riding bikes so he wouldn’t worry until it started getting close to dinner time.
Robbie had been right about it taking an hour to get there. But now we were on our way back and what he hadn’t factored in was that someone in town would see us and give his dad a call. As I climbed back on my bike, a patrol car pulled up behind us.
Robbie cowered, hands on the handlebars as his dad got out from behind the wheel. Sheriff Jordan took his time putting his hat on and adjusting his sunglasses before he stepped around the side of the car to face us.
“Nice day for a bike ride, eh?” He directed the question at Robbie.
Robbie’s cheeks colored as he looked down at the ground. “Yes.”
“What’s that, son?” His dad’s hand flew up, cuffing Robbie behind the ear. Robbie flinched but didn’t look at him.
“Yes, sir.”
Sheriff Jordan glanced around as a line of cars whizzed by, probably going at least ten miles over the posted speed limit. “Put the bikes in the trunk, son.”
Robbie wheeled his bike around to the back of the car as his dad popped the trunk. I followed. He loaded them both.
Before he could slam the lid, I grabbed Robbie’s arm. “Just tell him it was my idea. You won’t get in as much trouble.”
Robbie nodded. He was putting on a brave face, but I knew he was scared by the way his bottom lip quivered.
“Be quick about it now.” Sheriff Jordan climbed into the driver’s seat and waited for us to get in the back.
Robbie held the door for me, and I slid across the bench seat. I’d ridden in the back of the patrol car before, but I always got a little claustrophobic. It felt like being in a cage with the bars on the window and the thick plexiglass between the front and back seats.
Sheriff Jordan glanced in the rearview mirror and made eye contact with Robbie. His jaw clenched tight before he spoke. “Thought it was a good idea to ride into town now, did ya?”
Robbie’s hand rested on the seat in between us. I laced my fingers with his and tried to give him a boost of courage through a squeeze. “I’m sorry, Sheriff Jordan. It was my idea. Robbie didn’t want to—”
“You be a good little girl and stay out of this, Cassiopeia.”
Robbie’s fingers tightened around mine as the car accelerated and pulled back onto the highway.
Sheriff Jordan’s voice lowered. “Answer me, boy.”
“Yes, sir.” Robbie’s voice wavered. He turned into someone different around his dad. When we were alone he was the bravest person I knew. But when his dad started in on him, his voice became smaller and he seemed to disappear somewhere inside himself.
“That was a damn stupid thing you did, son. Riding bikes along this highway. You tryin’ to put your mama in an early grave?”
“No, sir.” Robbie turned his head toward the window, but I saw the tear slide down his cheek anyway.
“Think she wants to lose both her boys on this stretch of blacktop?” Sheriff Jordan shook his head. “What if something happened to the Macon’s girl?”
Robbie swallowed and wiped his free hand across his cheek. His voice cracked. “I’m sorry, Dad.”
Sheriff Jordan clucked his tongue. “Oh, I know you’re sorry, son. But not as sorry as you’ll be once I get done with you.”
I squeezed Robbie’s hand even tighter, but he pulled it away and kept his head turned toward the window. His dad scared the bejeezus out of me. We rode the rest of the way home in silence, passing the memorial cross dedicated to his brother at mile marker twenty-two. Sheriff Jordan dropped me off at the turn off for their place so I could ride my bike home.
“You go on home now, Cassiopeia.”
“But Sheriff Jordan, it really was my fault, Robbie didn’t—”
He patted me on the head. “Don’t you worry about Robert. He’ll learn his lesson and won’t make the same mistake again. Get on home and get a bandage on that knee. You don’t want your grandparents to worry about you now.”
Sheriff Jordan got back in the car, and with every ounce of my being I willed Robbie to look up. Why didn’t he climb out of the car? He could run to my grandparents’ house. They’d save him from his dad. But he didn’t. He never did. Between the run-in with Sheriff Jordan and my scraped up knee, I didn’t feel much like riding anymore so I walked my bike the rest of the way home.
I didn’t see Robbie for three days. When he finally came over, Grandma offered him a plate of cook
ies, and I saw him wince as he sat down on the porch swing. I asked him where his bike was. He shrugged and told me he didn’t have a bike anymore. I hugged him and told him he could ride mine anytime he wanted. He rolled his eyes at me and told me he wouldn’t be caught dead on a pink bike with a glittered banana seat.
Robbie would be okay. He’d survived another run-in with his dad and made it back to me. After we gorged ourselves on warm chocolate chip cookies we climbed the giant oak tree in the front yard and I read him the first chapter of my new Harry Potter. We never talked about that day again.
The ping of an incoming text message pulled me out of the past.
Peace pie sounds good but I’m not home
Where are you?
Jake’s
Can I stop by?
He replied with the address. Only a couple of blocks over. I walked back to the car and made the short drive to Jake and Misty’s, ready to dish up a big piece of pie and an apology.
Robbie
“Tum one’s here, Unca Wob.” Junior bounced around, excited at the sight of a car in the drive.
“It’s probably just Cassie.” I peeked out the window to watch her climb out of her SUV. A loud pop sounded as I grabbed Junior’s hand and pulled his thumb out of his mouth. “I can’t understand you when you try to talk with that thing in your mouth, bud.”
A giant line of drool stretched from his lip to his thumb then dipped down, covering my leg in spittle.
“Ugh.” I shoved his thumb back in his mouth. Seemed to work like a plug. “Just keep it in, okay?”
Junior nodded then raced to the front door. Baby Fisher laid on his back on the living room floor. I’d been about to investigate the loud rumbling coming from his diaper when Junior had sounded the alarm.
“Cath I open it? Thee’s here!” Junior jumped back and forth between the door and the window, thumb in mouth.
“Yeah, go ahead.” I turned my attention back to Fisher. “What’s going on down there, buddy?” He grabbed onto his toes and rocked back and forth, giggling and smiling at the sight of his unprepared Unca Wob. I grimaced. Better to just get it over with. I’d helped castrate bulls and birth foals. Surely whatever Fisher was hiding in that diaper couldn’t be worse than stuff I’d seen on the farm.
“This ought to be good.” Cassie stood at the edge of the living room with Junior behind her, the front door still wide open.
“Shut the door, little man.” I gestured toward the open door and Junior slammed it shut.
“Who’ve fee, Unca Wob?” He pointed a tiny little finger at Cassie.
“Unca Wob?” Cassie’s eyebrows lifted in surprise.
“Cassie, this is Jake Junior. We just call him Junior. Junior, this is, well, this is Cassiopeia Belmont. We just call her Cassie.”
“Nice to meet you, Junior.” Cassie leaned down and offered her hand. Junior took his thumb out of his mouth and grabbed her hand in his slobber-covered grip. She grinned. She’d always liked kids.
Shoving his thumb back in his mouth, Junior volunteered, “My Unca Wob hath a big cock.”
“Excuse me?” Cassie asked.
“Whoa, dude. Thumb, okay?” I pulled on his hand. “Try that without the speech impediment.”
“My Unca Rob has a big truck.” Junior grinned.
I nodded. “That’s better. Geez, be careful.”
Cassie smiled. “I’ve seen his truck, and I concur. Glad we got that sorted out.”
“What’s that?” Junior asked, pointing to the foil-covered glass pie pan in her hand.
“Oh, this?”
Junior nodded his tow-headed curls.
“This is just some pie for your Unca Wob.”
Junior smiled at the mispronunciation of my name. Obviously she had him wrapped around her little finger already. He grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the kitchen. “Can I have some, Cassie?”
She glanced my way. I sat back on my heels, kneeling down in front of Fisher, the smell emanating from his diaper starting to make my eyes water. “Yeah, fine. Junior, show her where the plates are. I’ll be there in a sec.”
“Good luck with that.” Cassie nodded toward the baby as Junior tugged her down the hall, bombarding her with questions.
Fisher let a loud one rip then giggled. Here goes nothing. I frowned and pulled the stretchy pants off his little legs. What the hell? Brown liquid oozed out of the once white shirt with the tiny snaps at the crotch. His whole lower end was covered in the stinky, slimy stuff.
Cassie poked her head through the doorway. “Hey, where are Jake and Misty?”
“Probably necking at Goosefalls Point by now.”
A smile curved over her lips. “You’re babysitting?”
I shrugged. “They needed a date night.”
“Impressive. I didn’t know you even knew how to change a diaper.”
“Yeah, well there’s a lot about me you don’t know.” In that moment I didn’t feel the need to tell her I’d become an expert on diaper changes…at least the non-stinky ones.
Her head rested on the doorway. “I suppose so. That’s really nice of you.”
“Unca Rob, I need a plate,” Junior called from the kitchen.
“Hey, do you mind checking on him?” I asked. “I’ll be in as soon as I finish up here.”
“Sure.” She smirked, clearly enjoying my nasty predicament, before she disappeared down the hall.
Fisher must have thought that was funny. He giggled, wrapped his little fingers around his tiny wanger and proceeded to cover me in a fountain of bubbling baby piss.
“What took you so long?” Cassie asked. She and Junior sat at the small wooden table, working their way through my peace offering.
“Sorry for the delay. Fisher here wanted to test out my master diapering skills. Save any of that for me?” I untangled Fisher’s fist from my chest hair and handed him off to her then stuck his bottle in the warmer before cutting myself a giant wedge of pie.
Cassie held the baby at arm’s length, probably examining him for any sign of lingering explosion debris.
“It’s okay, I dunked him in the sink. He’s been washed, scrubbed and disinfected.”
She scowled at me. “Please tell me you didn’t actually use disin—”
“I used the baby wash. Didn’t work so well on my shirt though.” I gestured down to my naked chest. “It always amazes me how much stuff can come out of someone so small.”
Evidently satisfied that Fisher had been decontaminated, Cassie sat him up in her lap. He swiveled his head around to look at her, unsure about this new stranger.
“Can he have some pie?” She held a piece of crust in her hand.
“Fither can’t haf no honey.” Junior pulled his thumb out of his mouth long enough to shove another giant bite of my pie in.
“Oh, there’s no honey in here. How about just a little crust?” Cassie asked Junior. He nodded in approval and Fisher opened his mouth like a baby bird, waiting for her to feed him.
I scraped the last bit of berry filling off my plate and got ready to cut another slice. “Did you make this yourself?”
“Of course. What, you think I bought it?” She lifted a brow.
“Nah. It’s just really good. You should sell these, you’d make a fortune.”
“Maybe I’ll put it on the menu at the new place. It’s one of my grandma’s old recipes that I committed to memory. She really knew how to cook.” She stabbed another bite with her fork. Fisher grabbed for her hand as she lifted it to her mouth.
I plowed through another slice then leaned back in my chair, clasped my hands over my belly, and groaned. “God, that was good. Did you say something about that being a peace offering?”
Fisher started to fuss and Cassie handed him across the table to me. “Yeah, um, well, so I guess I’m sorry for firing you. Do you still want the job?”
I tickled Fisher under his arms and he let loose a series of baby giggles that made us all smile. “Couldn’t find anyone else to take over, huh?”
Her mouth opened like she wanted to say something.
“Nobody willing to work with you on that payment plan, huh?” I lifted Fisher up over my head and blew raspberries on his belly. “I’ll still take the job.”
Cassie smiled and took another bite of pie.
“As long as you’re okay with my new terms.”
She frowned. “Go on.”
Fisher continued to laugh and grab handfuls of my hair. “My rate just went up, Cassafrass. I’m gonna need at least one pie a week in addition to the dinners we agreed on before.”
“Is that all? Done deal.” She stood up and took my plate. “So you’ll be back tomorrow to get started?”
Junior held his plate with both hands, licking the last bits of berry filling off with his tongue. He passed it to Cassie and grinned, a purplish-pink ring of sauce around his mouth. “That wath really good, Cassie. Wanna see my room?”
“Whoa there, tiger. We need to clean you up some first. Can’t be inviting a good looking girl to your bedroom with pie on your face.” I licked my thumb and ran it around Junior’s mouth, wiping away the remnants of pie then sucking the sticky stuff off my thumb.
Cassie shook her head. “You’re such a good influence. I can’t wait to hear what you teach him when he gets to be a teenager.”
“I’ll tell him all the important stuff.” Fisher dripped slobbery berry filling down my chest as I stood up and moved toward the sink. I turned on the water and ran his fingers under the tap then wiped his face and my chest off with a wet paper towel.
She leaned against the counter. “Important stuff, huh? Such as?”
“Such as how to sneak out without getting caught on a hot summer night, how to jam a hitter with a cut-fastball, and where the best place is to take a girl to see the stars.”