by Camille Eide
One of which, unfortunately, had been true.
Regardless of what Sue knew about him, she clearly didn’t trust him. The way she looked at him took him back to that time, bringing up guilt he’d spent years trying to forget. Perhaps the more he stayed out of her way, the better.
Tuesday morning began with a kiddie-sized breakfast and a single cup of coffee.
Miss Roberta, the old hippie lady, must have seen him trying to score a refill from the empty pot because she brought him a big mug at mid-morning.
He thanked her and kept working. Replacing leaking plumbing and Sheetrock helped him ignore his rattling stomach. A little.
“You gonna throw this away?”
Crouched near the utility room wall, Joe pivoted.
A dishwater-blond kid with Harry Potter glasses, a lisp, and a face full of zits inspected the warped plasterboard Joe had removed to get to the leaking pipe.
“I’m going to hang on to it, just until I pick up some new Sheetrock to replace it with.” Joe stood and held out a hand. “I’m Joe. Uh—Mister Joe. What’s your name?”
“Charles P. Montgomery.” The kid’s chin jutted up a notch. “But nobody calls me that.”
It was either a statement of fact or a command. “So, what do you like to be called?”
“Just Chaz.”
For the next hour, Chaz followed Joe around the compound as he worked, talking nonstop. Apparently there was a flight training school somewhere nearby. In between the kid’s stories about stealth fighter drills and his theories on what kind of testing the government was really doing, he asked Joe what he was doing and why.
Curiosity was a great teacher.
He sealed the leak in the utility room, then set a fan to dry the area, so he could check later for more leaks, before moving on to the next item on his list—smoke alarms. Oddly, many of them were missing.
“I know where they are. Come with me.” Chaz headed for the front door.
“All right. Hey, aren’t you supposed to be in school?” A girl named Brandi had complained at breakfast about spending weekday mornings in the schoolroom, but Chaz had been following him most of the morning.
The kid snorted. “I’m always finished before breakfast. C’mon, out here.” Chaz led him outside and along the sloped trail to the shop. Inside, Chaz took Joe to the workbench and pointed to a heap of mangled smoke detectors.
“Huh.” Joe tilted his head to get a better look. “I wonder why these are all dismantled.”
Chaz started picking through the pile. “I think this piece goes with that one.”
Didn’t really appear to be a match. Joe would have to sit down with the whole mess and try to see what went together, if any of it did. “How’d you know these were out here?”
“I put ’em here.”
Ah. “Did you also take them apart?”
“Pretty much. I can see how the different types work now. It’s simple, really. See this battery?” Chaz explained the route of the detector’s electrical current and how the alarm sound was triggered. He actually got it right.
“So you take things apart and figure out how they work?”
“Yep.”
“And then … you put them back together?” It was a long shot.
Chaz spotted something behind Joe and dodged around him to a pile of parts on another workbench.
Joe followed. This next pile contained pieces of light fixtures and assorted small appliances.
Guess that would be a no.
Chaz shuffled through the pile without pausing.
Joe had known kids with compulsive tendencies. This kid needed something to focus on. Something complicated enough to keep him challenged. “Hey, Chaz. How would you like a job?”
The kid whipped around so fast Joe thought his glasses would sail clean off his head.
* * *
Screams pierced the quiet mid-afternoon like a siren, shooting darts of fear through Sue. She grabbed her crutches and struggled to her feet. Ignoring the pain in her arm and leg, she hurried to the office door and went outside.
Another scream came from the barn.
Heart thumping, she moved toward it as fast as she could, horrible pictures springing to mind. Idiot! Why did you hire a strange man, and why did you let him stay here? As Sue reached the barn, Vince, Deeg, and Tatiana joined her, trailed by Karla, one of the new temps.
More screams made Karla jump. Deeg swung the big door wide open for Sue.
Adrenaline coursing, Sue entered the dark barn, moving through a cluster of teens.
Inside, Jasmine pressed her back against a support beam, her wide eyes directed at the other end of the barn where Ringo paced in front of the goat stalls, looking for an escape.
Sue heaved a sigh. Poor dog. Screaming girls were beyond the scope of the greyhound’s therapeutic abilities, even with his easy-going nature. “All right, everyone, show’s over, it’s just Ringo. Time to move along.”
Karla, still shaken, gathered her crew and disappeared.
Sue approached the girl slowly. “Jasmine? Are you hurt?”
Jasmine didn’t take her eyes from the lanky dog, who was now making a wide berth around the girl. As Ringo shot past them, Jasmine let off another ear-piercing scream.
Sue touched the girl’s shoulder.
Jasmine turned and chomped her teeth into the fleshy base of Sue’s thumb.
“Ahh!” Sue jerked her hand away.
The girl made a move to run.
Sue grasped Jasmine’s tiny shoulders, losing her crutches in the process.
Jasmine screamed again, thrashing and twisting to escape Sue’s grasp, kicking at Sue’s shins.
Sue couldn’t let the girl loose in this state. She clutched more tightly, sweating at the sharp pains in her knee and now in her shin and hand. “Jasmine, stop! No one’s going to hurt you!”
A snarl, starting deep and low, came from Jasmine’s throat and turned to high-pitched shrieks.
Ah. The coping quirk.
As the girl writhed, her head whipping back and forth, Sue’s balance slipped. She wrapped herself around the girl in a restraining hold and pitched them both against the barn post.
Grunting, Jasmine tried to bite Sue’s shoulder.
Sweat running down her temples, Sue held Jasmine against the wooden beam. “Jasmine, I’m not—going to hurt you,” Sue said between breaths. “But you—need to stop—fighting me.”
Jasmine went limp, and they both crumpled to the ground.
Sue’s braced leg threw her into a weird angle, pinning Jasmine half beneath her. “Jasmine? Are you okay? I’m going to let go, but you need to sit tight and calm down. Do you hear me?” Sue slightly loosened her grasp on the girl and looked at her face.
Jasmine’s eyes were closed, her body limp.
“Jasmine?” Was she hurt, or just faking for a chance to get away?
The girl’s breathing slowed to a steadier rate. Though her eyes were still closed, her taut look showed she was conscious.
Sue took a deep breath. “Jasmine, I’m going to let you go. Don’t try to run, okay?”
The girl didn’t move or make a sound.
Slowly, Sue released her grip on the girl and rolled back.
Jasmine scrambled into a sitting position and cradled herself in a tight ball, rocking in a short, rapid rhythm. She tucked her face deep into her knees.
And coping quirk number two. Poor kid. Sorrow seeped through Sue’s chest, heightening the tension of the moment and the pain screaming through her body. It took everything she had to keep tears from forming. “Jasmine?”
The girl kept rocking.
Sue propped herself into an awkward sitting position and waited in silence.
Bertie poked her head around the doorway, but Sue gave her the all-clear nod. Bertie flashed a thumbs-up and left.
Jasmine’s head lifted. She peeked at Sue, then she squashed her face into her knees again.
“You okay?”
Silence.
Sue looked around for Ringo. Poor dog. He’d probably never set paw in here again. “Did the dog scare you?”
Jasmine mumbled into her legs. “I not scared.”
Sue smiled. “Well, maybe you weren’t, but I sure was. I could hear you screaming from inside the house.”
Jasmine glanced up and checked the doorway. “I not like dogs. They mean.”
“Oh, honey, not Ringo. He’s the sweetest dog you’ll ever meet.”
“Ringo?” The girl cocked her head. “Not wild dog?”
“No. He lives here. I rescued him from a shelter.”
Jasmine relaxed a bit. “Your dog?”
“Yep. Well, he’s everyone’s, actually.” Sue shifted her leg, wincing. “Ringo used to be a racing dog. When greyhounds start getting older, they aren’t fast enough for racing anymore, so they are retired or sent away. Sometimes, if a dog is lucky, he gets to go to a good home where he can run and play and be part of a family.”
Jasmine kept eyeing the doorway. “Walkers have cats. I no like. They bite and—” Her face scrunched in a wicked hiss. She made a claw and swiped at the air near Sue’s face.
Sue forced herself not to flinch.
Apparently Jasmine had forgotten about biting Sue’s hand—or had blocked it out. Fear had a way of making people react in all manner of strange ways.
“Jasmine, if I had cats like that, I wouldn’t like ’em either.” She shifted her weight again, relieving the awkward angle of her leg. “But Ringo would never hurt you. He likes to play ball and go for long walks. Want to know what else he likes to do?”
Curiosity lifted Jasmine’s face.
“Ringo loves to ride motorcycles.”
The girl’s eyes widened. “How?”
“When I ride, he curls up on the tank in front of me. I don’t know how he does it, but he stays on. He has amazing balance. And he loves going fast.”
Jasmine stared out the door for a long time, thoughts working her small face. “Ringo fast race dog?”
“Yeah. He’s still crazy fast, even though he’s older now.”
“You race too?”
“Me? What do you mean?”
Jasmine gave the universal teenage eyeball roll. “On motorcycle. You go ‘crazy’ fast?”
As fast as that throttle will let me go, kiddo. “When it’s safe, yes. Sometimes.”
With two fingers, Jasmine plowed long, parallel tracks in the dust. “Dog smart. He find new way to race. Faster way.”
Sue grinned. Smart little cookie. “I guess you’re right. I never thought about it like that.”
Peering over Sue’s shoulder at the doorway, Jasmine moistened her lips. “I find Miss Karla now, finish work.” She stood but lingered near the post.
It took some effort, but Sue got her crutches beneath her and pulled herself to standing.
Matching Sue’s slow pace to the door, Jasmine hung close. Outside, she stopped and swept a glance around the compound.
A wagging Ringo trailed Edgar and the rest of his crew.
Jasmine’s body went rigid.
Edgar turned and stroked the dog’s head, then crouched down to ruffle his neck fur.
Eyes fixed on the dog, Jasmine muttered, “Ringo lucky. He find home where even dog fit in.”
* * *
With an hour or two of good daylight left, Joe had time to start a new project but needed a few supplies. He entered Sue’s office and froze.
Sue was sitting on a folding lounge chair with her back to him and her leg hooked to an ice machine. Beside her, an older girl in a wheelchair spoke, her sing-song speech soft, her head tipped slightly to one side.
Fiona …
A jab of something long buried stung his gut. Quietly, he turned to leave.
Sue’s voice stopped him. “Can I help you, Mister Joe?”
The girl turned her head to see him. “Hi, Mis-ter Joe. I’m Dai-sy.”
He suppressed a wince. “I can come back later.”
“Now is fine. Daisy doesn’t mind.”
It don’t matter, Joey … she don’t know nothin’ … she’s—
He had to fight to avoid visibly shaking the memory from his head. Different girl. Different home. Different life. Joe exhaled. “I need some hardware supplies. Do you want me to get that in Juniper Valley?”
Daisy laughed, long and low.
Sue smiled at the girl. “Depends. There’s usually not a lot to choose from out here. You’ll probably have to get it in Bend. But if Valley Hardware and Feed has what you need, you can put it on my account.” With a grimace, she shifted in the chair. “That is, if they let you.”
“I’ll check it out, thanks.” He started to leave but remembered Chaz. Better clear the idea with Sue. He didn’t need any wrong ideas forming in her head. “There’s a boy—Chaz. I think I might be able to help him with his … habit.”
“So you found Chaz’s handiwork,” Sue said. “What did you have in mind?”
“I could give him some projects to keep him busy. Maybe teach him to study how things work without taking them apart.” He met her gaze. “He could work with me when he’s not doing schoolwork. If that’s okay with you.”
The intense scrutiny of those pretty brown eyes rattled him. No, it wasn’t just her eyes. Her golden-blonde hair was down and loose, framing her face in soft waves that lay gently around her shoulders, partially covering the deep scratches on her neck and collarbone. He’d never seen her hair any way but pulled back in a tight braid. Probably felt as soft as it looked.
Stare check, man.
Joe inspected the flooring. Decent grade. Hemlock. Maybe oak.
“Okay,” Sue said. “You can give it a try. As long as the two of you are never alone.”
Another jab nudged his gut. With a nod, he ducked out and went into town.
By dinnertime, Joe had checked a couple more items off the list, but the rest of the repairs needed wiring and plumbing supplies that required a trip into Bend. But for his first day on the job, he’d accomplished quite a bit, and that felt good.
With a smile, Joe hummed his way into the dining hall. Something smelled delicious, like potatoes and gravy. He added the lyrics to the tune stuck in his head.
Jasmine stopped at his side with a stack of plates in her arms. “I know song.” Jasmine’s mouth curled slightly. “Sing more.”
Joe grinned and launched into the chorus.
Jasmine set the plates down and bobbed her head in time with his thigh drumming. “Likaway you walk …”
Joe dove into a rooster walk and sang the next line.
Jasmine answered with a chicken wing flap.
This kid was all right.
A couple of teens burst into the hall and stopped, watching Joe and Jasmine strut around the table, singing.
Jasmine joined him again, off-key, for the last line. “Likaway you walk, Suzy Q.”
As more kids filed in, Joe went back to humming the tune. Probably just made a total fool of himself, but everyone was grinning.
Except for the woman on crutches in the office doorway. She resembled a kid in size but apparently not in humor.
Crud. Must have missed the no singing rule. Lord, if I didn’t know better, I’d think my boss was allergic to fun.
A group of kids formed a line against one wall, but no other staff was there, besides Sue, who was still shooting him a blistering look.
He crammed his hands in his pockets, stomach groaning loud enough to scatter a pack of coyotes.
Another bunch of kids brought out steaming pans of mashed potatoes, gravy, and green beans from the kitchen and set them on a long sideboard.
As the kids arranged the food, Sue crutched her way closer to Joe. The effort seemed to wear on her. Her head tilted up and she offered a thin smile. “Funny. And so original.”
“What?”
When she didn’t answer, Joe scrambled back over the last few moments. The song. “Oh, Suzy … Quinn. Actually, no. That wasn’t …”
The corners of her mou
th tucked back in a way that said I’m not stupid.
“I wasn’t singing about you. Really. It’s—just something I like to sing.”
Head cocked to one side, Sue studied him. In the depths of those eyes, something intense yet guarded tugged at him, pulled him right in.
Sadness, a flash of pain. Whatever it was, she had a tight clamp on it.
“It’s not one of my favorites.” She pivoted on her crutch and went back to her office.
Joe got in line for chow, winking in answer to the kids’ curious stares. He glanced over his shoulder at the office doorway.
Father, she may be gorgeous, but she’s pricklier than a juniper. Help her let go of whatever has her wound so tight. Help her know You. And help me have grace. Thanks.
Chapter Seven
By the time surgery day arrived, Sue had been forced to yield yet again. Bertie suggested Joe drive her, since his absence wouldn’t leave them short-handed with care staff. Sue wanted to argue, but it was true.
At first light Friday morning, Sue hobbled out to Joe’s truck. Just me and Giganto. Fabulous. The early morning chill stung her cheeks. She grimaced. If healing from knee surgery took too long, she might miss the last of any decent riding weather.
Bertie helped Sue clamber up onto the seat.
A week after the accident, her shoulder didn’t hurt much, but pulling herself up was still a pain. And since she was likely to be in far more pain after surgery, it was a good thing the kids either hadn’t noticed that today was Halloween or had decided not to make a big deal out of it. If she was as drugged up as she suspected she might be, trying to duplicate last year’s bonfire and ghost stories might turn out more frightful than any of them were prepared for.
Wearing a green John Deere stocking hat, Joe climbed in and they headed out. He took the rutted dirt roads slowly, making an effort to avoid the potholes. For the first several miles, neither one spoke.