Dying to Remember

by Judy Fitzwater

  Next were three snapshots her friend Megan had taken on a senior class trip to Six Flags over Georgia. Danny made faces at the camera while hugging her to him on the backseat of the bus. Her hair was flat, soaked from the water rides, but her whole face was a grin, hiding her embarrassment. They were lucky the bus driver hadn’t stopped and put the noisy lot of them off. She’d forgotten that they’d ever gone.

  They all looked so young. Not that she was old, she reminded herself.

  Beneath the photos, she found the corner she’d torn off Danny’s science notebook when he’d playfully hit her over the head with it; the straw he’d presented to her in the cafeteria, jokingly, as a token of his affection; and the hot-pink slap bracelet he’d clamped onto her wrist before school one morning. She touched each item and then set it aside, as if too much handling might somehow erase the memories.

  Tucked in one corner was a folded piece of pink paper. She pulled it out and opened it. Don’t date him. You’ll be sorry if you do, she read. Oh, yes. Now she remembered. Sheena’s fond farewell. She’d found it, unsigned, slipped through the vent in her locker. One more example of Sheena’s unrelenting persecution. Why had she kept it? She studied the round, bubble letters with the circles dotting the is and then it came back to her. The note had come the week after prom night, after her breakup with Danny. She’d kept it as a handwriting sample to take with her to the office if Sheena did one more hateful thing to her. It was the first and only hard evidence that Sheena had given to her of all the hateful things she’d done. But the harassment had stopped, and the note served as one final reminder of all the agony Sheena put her through. She tossed it aside.

  In the bottom of the box lay her journal, shining beneath everything else. The cover was one of those silver, optical patterns that danced in the light, the sort of ultratacky, all-that-glitters design that only teenage girls buy.

  She’d hoped she still had it, that it was in the box with the rest. She pulled it out, her heart beating a little too fast. Did she really want to hear her own words, experience those emotions again?

  She flipped it open and leafed through it. Danny’s name was everywhere. The early entries had been written before the two of them were actually talking, when he was still throwing looks at her across the hallway and pretending to walk into walls when he saw her.

  Sheena’s name was just as prominent. If hatred had a persona, it used too much makeup and bleached its hair brittle.

  Several pages over, Jennifer and Danny’s relationship had progressed.

  Tuesday. Danny asked me out again. I lied and told him I didn’t like him, but I really do. Sheena is sooooo angry. She and her friends glare at me in the hall and whisper when I walk by. I got another one of those weird phone messages last night. This one was from an Air Force recruiter saying he’d gotten my application. I wonder if Danny knows what she’s been doing.

  Wednesday. Two guys I don’t know stopped me in the hall and asked me what kind of “services” I provide. I asked Joey what was going on. He told me not to worry about it. He’d scrubbed my name off of the wall in the boys’ bathroom. I HATE her!!!!!

  Thursday. He is soooooo cute. He waited for me after math class today. He had two tuna fish sandwiches (really gross), a big bag of chips, and two Cokes. We found a place behind the gym to eat lunch, somewhere Sheena couldn’t find us. The tuna fish was yucky, but I ate it anyway. I told him I’d go out with him.

  Jennifer skipped through pages. She didn’t need to live through every minute of swooning over Danny or playing hide and seek with Sheena. She’d been so naive, her own words made her cringe.

  Friday. Danny didn’t call me tonight. Sometimes I think I actually hate him. He’s the most inconsiderate jerk I’ve ever known. I just hope nothing’s wrong.

  Monday. Danny seemed upset at school today. He wouldn’t tell me why, but he apologized for not calling. I think Sheena’s bothering him, too. Or maybe it’s that crowd of his. I don’t know why he hangs out with them. Al is so stuck-up, Mick is gorgeous but truly weird, and Seth doesn’t care about anybody but himself. He did wink at me and say hi in the hall today, though. He had some new girl on his arm as usual.

  Tuesday. Lunch again with Danny. He seemed distracted, but he wouldn’t tell me why.

  Wednesday. Danny is soooo moody. I’m almost sorry I agreed to go to the prom with him. I found the most gorgeous dress ever at Macy’s. I can’t believe mom actually bought it for me.

  Friday. Tonight’s the prom. I’m sooooooo excited. I’m writing this while my nails dry. That’s why the letters are all squiggly. It will be perfect. I know it will.

  Several of the pages following the last note were torn out. She ran her fingers over the jagged edge. She had written about that night in detail, then yanked out the entries and burned them. They’d been too painful to keep. Drat it all. If anything of importance was in that journal, it would have been on those pages.

  Two pages over she found a final entry.

  Seth Yarborough actually asked me out.

  She paused. She’d forgotten. Then she read on.

  I told him no. I’m never going to date anybody ever again.

  Jennifer closed the journal of her young self’s dreams, leaned back against the sofa, and let the tears welling in her eyes spill. There was a part of her that would forever care for eighteen-year-old Danny Buckner.

  Chapter 15

  She was actually meeting Sheena Buckner, like more-or-less civilized adults. Why, of all the people in Macon, did they have to be the only two who believed Danny Buckner was murdered?

  Jennifer’s little Volkswagen Beetle putted up to the curb in front of the circular driveway of a huge Victorian mansion located not far from downtown on College Street. She rolled down the window, letting in the pleasant morning air, and checked the address Sheena had given her for Al Carpenter’s house, scribbled on a piece of paper. The numbers on the plaque sticking out of the grass at the edge of the street matched. She wondered briefly if Sheena could have copied it down wrong.

  Then she spied Sheena waiting for her in a red Jeep Cherokee parked directly in front of the door in the circular driveway. This was the place all right.

  Jennifer backed up, getting closer to the curb, pulled on the emergency brake, cut the engine, and opened the car door.

  Sheena, her hair pulled back in a ponytail, and dressed in white shorts that showed off her tanned, muscular legs and a red halter top that showed off her other attributes, was at her door and hurrying her up. Interesting attire for a new widow.

  “What the heck are you driving?” Sheena asked, giving the Beetle a good once-over. “God, Jenny. Can’t you even afford a car? All you need is a big daisy painted on the side and you’d look like you stepped out of the Sixties.”

  “It’s a classic,” Jennifer insisted defensively. She didn’t bother to add that it had indeed once had a daisy painted on its side, shortly after her mom first bought it. “I’m restoring it.” One piece at a time, as each piece wore out.

  She wasn’t about to get drawn into a discussion on economics. Have-it-all-have-it-now Sheena couldn’t possibly understand the investment she was making with her writing, that careers in the arts took time to build. Besides, what was the use? The woman simply wouldn’t be interested.

  Jennifer peered at Sheena. She looked as though she hadn’t slept since the last time they’d talked. Those little telltale lines around her eyes were getting deeper.

  “I’m surprised you have time to come over here,” Jennifer said. “I thought you might have things you had to do. Maybe make financial arrangements...”

  “Nothing that can’t wait. Danny left me insurance, lots of insurance, so don’t you waste your time worrying about my finances,” Sheena explained, as though talking to a three-year-old.

  As if she would. Concern was lost on the Sheena Cassidys of this world. She was her own tower of strength, one whose foundations, Jennifer suspected, stood on shifting sands.

  “I called C
andy,” Sheena explained as they walked to the door. “She still hasn’t heard from Al, unless he dragged his sorry carcass home in the twenty minutes it took me to drive over here.”

  “So why are we—”

  “You give me someplace else to start and we’ll be there.” Sheena leaned on the doorbell.

  A vaguely familiar, short, round woman with shiny, bright red hair opened the door. She was dressed in a flowing green print caftan, and she was cute, really cute, with a cheery, dimpled smile that would have made Jennifer grin back under different circumstances. She was also heavy enough that a vision of her doing splits at the top of a pyramid made Jennifer understand why she’d skipped the reunion. Too bad. She had a feeling she probably would like this version of Candy better than the perfect model of popularity she’d most likely been sixty pounds ago.

  Candy hugged Sheena, and then stepped back, her face gone slack, and shook her head as though fighting for words. She managed to croak out, “You doin’ all right, hon?”

  “That husband of yours back yet?” Sheena demanded, ever charming.

  “You know Al as well as I do. He’ll be back when he gets back.” Candy looked at Jennifer, a puzzled expression on her face. “You didn’t mention...”

  “Jennifer Marsh,” she said, offering the woman her hand.

  Candy drew back, her gaze darting back and forth between Sheena and Jennifer before landing with a piercing stare on Jennifer’s face. “Not the Jennifer...”

  “Yes, the Jennifer that stole Danny away from Sheena in high school.” She smiled and raised one eyebrow at the scowl on Sheena’s face. “Don’t be so touchy. I gave him back.”

  “Gave him back,” Sheena roared.

  “Ladies, please,” Candy insisted, stepping between the two women. She turned her back on Sheena and ushered Jennifer inside, whispering, “You know, I thought you looked familiar.” Then she turned back to her friend and offered a few words under her breath that Jennifer couldn’t quite make out. She did catch “not here” and “You know how Danny felt about you”.

  Sheena threw Jennifer a glare and pushed past her into the large, tiled foyer.

  “I made coffee,” Candy offered, “and there are doughnuts in the fridge if anybody wants some.”

  She led them to the back of the house and a bright, airy, all white kitchen with glass doors that opened onto a high deck decorated with hanging baskets of bright pink impatiens. Then she busied herself near the sink.

  “I want to know why Al has been hounding Danny to meet with him for the past week when none of us have seen each other in years,” Sheena said.

  Candy turned back around, coffee carafe in hand. “Sheena, you should know that Al never tells me anything, but I’m sure it must be because of the reunion.” She pulled two large mugs from a stand and filled them with coffee. Then she shooed the women to the wooden table, setting a mug in front of each of them, and took her own seat, sans coffee, next to Sheena.

  “Al does his thing; I do mine. It makes for a perfect marriage.” She pushed the cream and sugar toward Jennifer, along with a spoon and napkin that were already on the table.

  “You don’t worry when he goes off like this?” Jennifer couldn’t keep herself from asking. Why marry if two people were only going to share real estate? And genetic material. She’d noticed a child’s bike leaned up against the house, so the Carpenters had at least one offspring.

  “When Al gets going on a case, he can work around the clock. He’s probably at the office.”

  “He’s not,” Sheena told her. “I called.”

  For some inexplicable reason, Jennifer felt convinced, Candy had called Al’s office, too.

  “At a hotel, then,” Candy offered, her hands shaking ever so slightly. She seemed practiced at making excuses for Al. “He has trouble working at home. The kids are noisy.”

  Something wasn’t right here. Candy was nervous, and she was as unhelpful as her manners would allow her to be.

  “What kind of practice does Al have?” Jennifer asked.

  “Criminal law, mostly.”

  “Who does he use as private investigators?” Jennifer fished.

  “There’s a firm on the other side of town. He likes it because they have a female operative in addition to the three men. He says women can sometimes get information when men can’t. Why do you ask?”

  “Just curious.” She didn’t point out that Danny hadn’t called Al Carpenter when he’d needed a detective. “You see, I write mystery novels.”

  Candy brightened. “You do? Can I buy one?”

  She knew not to mention it...

  “A week or so ago, Danny started acting funny,” Sheena broke in, as though she hadn’t heard what they’d said. “I thought I overheard him talking to Al on the phone. Did Danny call here?”

  “Why, yes,” Candy assured her. “I answered the phone when Danny called.”

  “Could you tell what they were talking about?” Jennifer asked.

  “I didn’t even bother. I figured it was just two old friends catching up.”

  “The phone calls from Al started coming after that,” Sheena told them.

  “Why are you two asking all these questions?” Candy asked. “I expected you to have your hands full with... well, with the arrangements for Danny.”

  The doorbell bonged three notes, like a Chinese gong.

  “If you’ll excuse me...” Candy got up, again glancing between Sheena and Jennifer, this time as though she were afraid to leave them alone, afraid of what they might do to one another. Then she disappeared down the hall.

  “This is a waste of time,” Sheena announced. “Al has that woman so cowed, she’ll do anything, say anything, he wants her to.”

  “Maybe she simply doesn’t know anything,” Jennifer pointed out. “Or maybe she’s just loyal. He is her husband. What was that you said earlier about not seeing each other in years?”

  “Danny and I never socialized with Al and Candy, not since high school.”

  “But I thought the four of you were tight.”

  “Danny and Al’s group fell apart after the prom.”

  “Why?” Jennifer asked.

  Sheena shrugged. “I was busy getting back together with Danny after he dumped you.”

  “He did not dump me,” Jennifer insisted, amazed she still cared that that particular part of her history be recorded correctly. “I’m the one—”

  Shouting echoed down the hall, freezing them in place, but only for a few seconds. Jennifer leaped out of her chair, with Sheena right behind her.

  At the front door Candy stood red-faced, veins popping out on the sides of her neck. “He’s not here, I told you. You can tell Seth Yarborough I don’t care how many clerks he sends over here as a personal favor. I’m not my husband’s keeper.”

  The young man, much taller and thinner than Candy, shrank back. “Ma’am, we’re only trying to help. When the court appoints an attorney, he must show up for trial. If Mr. Carpenter isn’t down at the courthouse within thirty minutes, he could be held in contempt of court. Maybe even arrested.”

  “Good. You find him. You arrest him. Now get out and leave me alone.”

  “Is there anything we can do to help?” Jennifer asked.

  “Go,” Candy roared again, but this time at Sheena and Jennifer.

  She pushed the lot of them out the door and slammed it behind them, leaving Jennifer and Sheena facing a very bewildered young law clerk who immediately turned and walked away.

  Chapter 16

  “I can see why Danny was so drawn to you,” Seth told Jennifer, wiping his mouth with his lunch napkin and letting it play peekaboo with his smile.

  She offered her best pleased-as-punch, hopefully not-too-artificial grin. He could be “drawn” to her, too, as long as Yarborough didn’t suspect why she was drawn to him. She’d love to know why he felt it necessary to send a law clerk to fetch Carpenter to court that morning—on a case Yarborough wasn’t even involved with. She’d called and checked the m
orning’s docket and spoken with a very helpful clerk. Could just be that Seth was simply helping a friend. Wasn’t that the way it was supposed to be?

  Or it could be that he suspected Al of something.

  “I’m glad you let me talk you into having lunch,” he added.

  She studied him. He was all charm. Too bad she couldn’t relax and enjoy it without trying to read some deep motive into everything he said. Of course, the fact that she still hadn’t been able to reach Leigh Ann by phone, and nobody answered the knock on the door when she dropped by her apartment on the way over to Applebee’s, wasn’t helping her nerves either. Leigh Ann’s car was in her apartment building parking lot, and all her boss had heard was a terse request for sick leave left on her voice mail sometime late Sunday night. Please Lord, just let her be all right and anywhere other than with Gavin Lawless.

  Now, she tried to concentrate on Seth Yarborough’s chatter. He had never said much more than two words to her in high school—although her journal did attest he asked her out once—so why, she wondered, had he suddenly taken such an interest in her? Did he think they’d bonded over Danny’s death? One little hug did not a bond make.

  “I was surprised to get your call this morning. I wouldn’t think you’d have time for lunch,” she said. “Aren’t you usually in court?”

  “Not today.”

  “Ever go up against Al Carpenter?” She speared an elusive piece of romaine from her Caesar salad and held it poised at her lips.

  “On occasion.”

  “Is he any good?”

  “You should have ordered the fried chicken salad,” he told her, savoring a bite.

  She didn’t care to get into the whole vegetarian debate, especially when he was already doing a good job of distracting her.

  “I went over the statement you gave to the police,” he told her.

  Oh. So this wasn’t a personal lunch. It was business. Assistant District Attorney business. And the smiles and the charm, maybe that was business, too.