by Nance Sparks
“Absolutely, that will be fine. If you can email me your contact information, I’ll have the papers ready when you arrive. I’ll explain the process in more detail when I see you. Thank you for calling.”
Carol returned all of the papers to the envelope and slid it into the dresser drawer that Aren had cleared out for her. She turned around to find the half-sorted laundry on the bed. She finished sorting and started a load, ruminating the whole time on what lay ahead. She spent the rest of the afternoon looking up phone numbers for tree removal services and contractors. The project gave her a renewed sense of purpose. She would let things unfold and see if this could be where she belonged. One thing for certain, she couldn’t wait for Aren to get back so she could share the news.
Chapter Sixteen
Aren was busy bagging up produce at the farmer’s market when she glanced up and saw the cab pull in. The funeral had been at one o’clock today and she’d offered to go. She had even ironed black slacks and a shirt, but Carol insisted on going alone. She’d needed to meet with the attorney and had a few other appointments before the services, so Aren had taken her to the attorney’s office and left her. It was torture, wondering all day how Carol was doing. She hadn’t felt that helpless in quite some time. She quickly finished with her customer and excused herself for a moment before running to the taxi.
“Carol, slow down, let me help you. Are you okay?” Aren asked as she saw Carol trying frantically to climb from the back of the cab with her crutches. Aren heard the driver repeating the total and leaned into the passenger window to pay him.
“I can pay for my own cab. Driver, don’t leave. Keep the meter running.”
“What? Why? What happened?” Aren was thoroughly confused. This wasn’t what she expected at all.
“The things they say about you. I wasn’t prepared to deal with it, certainly not today of all days and at my aunt and uncle’s funeral of all places. I felt blindsided and I didn’t know what to say to them. I don’t know how to defend you. Please tell me that none of it’s true, Aren. I need to hear it from you! I need to know, is any of what they say about you true?” Tears streamed down Carol’s cheeks.
Aren’s head dropped forward, her jaw tightened. She’d known this day was coming. It had all been too good to be true. The friendship, the companionship, she knew it would come to an end eventually, but she definitely hadn’t expected it today. She felt horrible that her stuff had ruined an already somber time. Maybe if she explained, maybe if she opened up and talked about it, maybe Carol would understand.
“I don’t know exactly what they said, or which version you were told. I don’t know how to answer a question that has more answers than you probably want. Can we talk about this later? Please? I’ll answer the questions, I’ll do better.” Aren was almost begging. She had never been more grateful for the dark sunglasses. She knew tears were welling up in her eyes, though she could do nothing to stop them.
“I need the truth, I need honesty. I can’t stay with you and not know what happened.” Carol’s eyes were pleading again, like they had the other night, after the nightmare. She’d asked for honesty that night too.
“Right here? Really? Right now? Okay, fine, let’s do this. Ask. Ask your questions. Or do I have to guess? What am I being accused of now? Who have I murdered this time? Or maybe it’s about the bodies buried somewhere on the farm? What have I stolen this week and from who? Ask your questions, Carol!” Aren’s chest was tightening up and old, hardened anger was bubbling over. She was sick of it. Sick of the stories. Sick of being assumed guilty. She couldn’t stand the thought of losing Carol to a bunch of twisted tales, but if she wanted to believe that crap instead of Aren, then so be it.
“People are staring at us. I didn’t mean to cause a scene, certainly not here. This is one of your favorite places. I should go. You have customers waiting.” Carol sounded defeated and she looked completely drained. “I was wrong to stop here. It’s just, well, I missed you all day and it’s all so confusing.”
“It’s not confusing, it’s bullshit. Everyone has ghosts, and a lot of people never talk about it. Why can’t the past be in the past?” Aren stuffed her hands into her front pockets.
Carol reached up and pulled Aren’s sunglasses off her face. Carol’s eyes seemed to bore into hers, like she was trying to read her mind. Aren stood statue-still and held Carol’s gaze. A tear escaped. She was having a hard time holding it together.
“You pulled me out of a crumbling house. You opened your home to me. It’s like the you that I’m getting to know and the person that they talk about are two completely different people. How can that be? I need to know what happened, okay? I stand here and look into your eyes and all I see is kindness, tenderness. I don’t understand how they see someone so completely different.”
“I’m the only one left to pay for all the sins, and someone had to pay.”
“What does that cryptic shit even mean? What sins?” Carol flailed her arms sending one of her crutches thudding onto the gravel drive.
Aren bent down and picked up the crutch. She stood and offered the crutch to Carol, all the while searching Carol’s eyes for a hint of understanding. When Carol was balanced again, she lifted her arms and slid the sunglasses back in place on Aren’s face.
“Will you stay?” Aren asked, her words quivering with the overwhelming emotion she felt.
Carol nodded, adjusting her crutches. “Everyone is staring at us.” She pulled a few bills out of her purse and handed them into the cab. “Thank you for waiting, you can go. This should cover your time.”
“Let them stare. My only concern is you.”
“Nothing to see here, folks, just a post funeral meltdown.” Carol called out to the crowd of onlookers. Those who had been staring averted their eyes and returned to their shopping. “I didn’t mean to come at you like that. I should have waited until later, and asked questions like a normal human being, I’m so sorry. You seem to bear the brunt of my meltdowns lately. Thank you for not shoving me into the back of the cab and sending me on my way.”
“Would you like to come and sit on the back of the wagon while I finish up here? I have about an hour to go. Or I could just pack up the booth and take you home now. You tell me what you’d like to do and we’ll do it,” Aren said. Seeing Carol cry and not being able to do anything about it was awful, but it was worse knowing that part of it had to do with her.
“I’d like to stay. I can sit with Bailey until you’re done. I feel better just being here with you.” Carol gave her a small smile. “Distraction, right?”
Aren nodded, led Carol to the booth, and helped her get seated in the back of the wagon among the empty crates. Bailey wagged her tail and nuzzled Carol, eager for a good tummy rub.
“Thank you, Marie, that was very thoughtful,” Aren said, resting her hand on Marie’s shoulder.
“That woman looks good on you, cowgirl. I’ll catch up with you later, looks like my booth is getting busy again. It’ll all work out. Have a little faith.” Marie smiled and winked at Aren before jogging back to her poultry.
Aren’s face grew so hot she could rival the sun. She was thankful to see customers needing assistance and jumped back to work.
Chapter Seventeen
Wyatt pawed the dirt, showing his impatience to get going. Aren finished packing the rake and shovel she’d carried to clean the corral before climbing up into the driver’s seat. She looked over to Carol and smiled.
“Walk on, big fella.” They were on their way home and there was still plenty of tension between them. Aren hoped it was something they could figure out. She didn’t want this to be the beginning of the end.
“How are you feeling? How was the service? Did your appointments go well?” Aren asked once they were on the shoulder of the paved road heading home.
“I’m doing okay, all things considered. It was quite a lot for one day. The service was nice. My aunt would have loved it had she been anyone but one of the guests of honor. The rever
end did honor every one of their wishes, as promised. It was different, going to this funeral than it was going to my parents’ funeral.” Carol adjusted her leg before continuing. “I’d spent time with my aunt and uncle over the years, but I didn’t know them like I did my parents. I don’t know how to explain it better than that, but this was easier to accept and I don’t feel the profound emptiness or the loss that I felt when I lost my parents.” Carol was quiet for a few minutes and then looked over at Aren, “I almost feel guilty for not feeling sad enough, if that makes sense. I mean, God, they left me everything and here I sit talking about not feeling that sad.”
“I think it’s much different when you lose a relative outside of your immediate family. There’s certainly no reason for you to feel guilt. You feel how you feel, and I wouldn’t judge you for it either way.” Aren flicked the reins.
“Did you lose an aunt or grandparent, someone besides your folks?” Carol asked. “I’m sorry, did you even know your parents? How did you end up in foster care, if you don’t mind me asking?”
Aren smiled wryly. “You do like your questions, don’t you?” She took in a deep breath and knew it was time for her to share her truths. Carol had probably heard the worst of it already, and there was a good chance only a smidge of it was true. At least she could set the record straight.
“Yes, I did know my parents. I don’t know if either of them had any brothers or sisters and I never thought to ask. My gut tells me that my mom was disowned for marrying my father. And, knowing my father, I doubt his own family wanted much to do with him either.” Aren let the sound of Wyatt’s hoofs keep her calm. “My parents left their hometown and moved to Detroit when they were married. My father got a job with General Motors working on the assembly line. My mom was a housewife, and she took care of him, me, and our tiny house. I never met my grandparents on either side. I never knew anyone in my family beyond my parents.” Aren looked up to the dark clouds in the sky. “Looks like it’s gonna rain tonight.”
Aren sat in the quiet for a moment. Her jaw tightened with the prospect of revisiting a world she simply wanted to leave behind. She looked over at Carol and watched her chew on her lip. She seemed to do that when she wanted to ask something but wasn’t sure if she should.
“Ask.” Aren looked over at Carol.
“Aren, you’ve been nothing but kind to me. I shouldn’t have let them get into my head like that. I was wrong to go off on you like I did.”
Aren sighed. “It’s not going to go away. You’ll always wonder if you don’t ask. Better to get it out in the open.” Aren’s heart was pounding in her chest. Her tense muscles ached. “Want to tell me what happened to set you off?”
“It was after the service. I’d already called for the cab. The reverend and a few others gathered around, asking me questions about you, telling me things about you. It was like they couldn’t wait to gossip, to share every ugly tidbit someone had heard or made up. I was already emotionally raw, drained from a long day and I felt blindsided. I didn’t know what to believe. I didn’t know how to defend you. What version is the truth. Then, when my cab finally pulled in, the reverend said he’d personally caught you stealing money from the church.” Carol twisted in her seat to look at Aren. “That was a new one that I hadn’t heard before. I’d heard other things, from my aunt, but the stories just don’t line up with the person I believe you to be. Is any of it true?”
Aren was well aware of the stories told about her, about the family. She was grateful that Carol started with the money and not murder. “Ah, the good reverend. I wasn’t stealing the money, I was returning it. Money that someone else had taken.”
“Excuse me? Who stole it? How did you come across it?”
“After I came back from Kentucky, when Jennifer was sick, Phyllis was already drinking pretty heavily. She was broke. I thought that if I stopped giving her money that she’d be forced to sober up. She rationed for a while, then one day she comes home with several bottles of booze. Big bottles. It didn’t make any sense. She drank herself into a stupor that night. I waited until she passed out, and then dug through her purse. There was all this cash in there and a few checks. The checks were made out to the Church of our Lord. I gathered the cash and the checks, added what I thought was spent on booze, plus some extra—I mean, Jesus, she stole money from a church. Anyway, I got into the rental car late that night and drove to the church. When I walked inside, I saw the contribution box on the floor, and a tiny lock beside it that looked to have been busted with the rock that lay next to it. I picked up the box and was putting the money back when the good reverend walked in with a police officer at his side. I tried to explain, but he’d already called the police and he wouldn’t listen to a word I said. Thankfully, the police officer did. The officer talked to him, explained that the church had the money back, so there wasn’t much they were going to do. The police officer was a guy I’d gone to high school with. He was always nice enough, good ol’ Joe. To this day I’m relieved that it was Joe and not some rookie who had listened to the tall tales about the farm.”
“You never told them it was Phyllis?”
“Oh, Joe suspected as much, but the money was returned so he didn’t pursue anything,” Aren said. The memory of it was still so embarrassing. “I will forever be grateful to sober Phyllis for taking me in, but drunk Phyllis was not my favorite person. She caused me so much grief.”
A carload of teenage boys zoomed by, laying heavy on the car horn. One of the boys threw a glass bottle at Wyatt’s hooves. The bottle exploded around the horse’s legs. Wyatt jumped to the side and bolted with all his strength into a full gallop.
“HANG ON!” Aren yelled.
Wyatt had shifted into the ditch when he’d leapt into the air. The wagon was on a steep angle with the two right wheels bouncing their way down the rocky wash. Aren could hear crates bouncing around in the back of the wagon. She was sure she’d lost several in the hundred yards or so that they had already traveled. The cross street ahead was approaching fast, and there was a culvert jetting out that would surely flatten the wagon tires if it didn’t destroy the wagon completely. Aren pulled gently back on the reins, trying to calm the terrified horse.
“Come on, Wyatt, whoa, fella, easy now.” The pounding of Aren’s heart nearly drowned out her words as the horse thundered forward. “WYATT, whoa, easy down!” she yelled.
Finally, Wyatt began to respond. He slowed to a canter and then slowed further to a trot before easing down to a brisk walk.
“Whoa, whoa there, fella,” Aren said again in a calm voice, though she was anything but. He finally stopped completely, his sides heaving. Aren locked the brake and wrapped the reins to keep them from falling to the ground. Aren turned to Carol. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I think so, just bruised and scared.” Carol shifted in her seat to arrange her leg, and she winced as she did it.
Aren jumped from the wagon and ran up to Wyatt. She stood in front of him rubbing his face, and he nuzzled his head into Aren’s chest. She held him for a moment before she checked his legs for cuts from the glass. Once she was satisfied that there weren’t any cuts, she lifted each hoof and checked for rocks.
“The exploding glass must have scared him more than anything. I’m not finding any cuts,” she said to Carol from the front of the wagon.
“I can understand it scaring him, shit, it scared me. Is he going to be okay now? You know, to get us home without running again?” Carol asked while trying to get the cat tail fuzz out of her hair.
“Yeah, he’ll do great, you’ll see. Let me just run back and get the crates that fell out.” She scanned the wagon. “And your crutches. I’ll be right back,” Aren said, heading for the lost items.
“But what if he runs again while you’re back there? What do I do?” Carol called out. Aren turned around and looked up at Carol who sat there looking frazzled. Her hair and her black dress were covered in cat tail fuzz. She’d had a tough day and this hadn’t helped. The least Aren coul
d do was help her feel safe. Aren walked back up to the wagon and climbed back into the driver’s seat.
“I’ll get us out of the ditch and get him over onto that side street. That way he’ll be out of the traffic, okay?”
Carol nodded earnestly in agreement.
Aren released the brake and urged Wyatt forward, her heart still hammering in her chest. He easily pulled the wagon free from the ditch. Once on the side street, Aren circled Wyatt around so he could see the main road. She halted him on the shoulder in case cars needed to get by.
“How’s this? He’ll be able to see me and I’ll run fast to get the loose stuff,” Aren said. “Here, you hold the reins. If he moves forward, then you just very softly pull back and say ‘whoa, fella.” Don’t pull too hard. You could hurt his mouth.”
“This is great. Thank you, Aren, for putting up with me.” Carol smiled.
“Think nothing of it. I’m happy to help you feel safe,” Aren replied as she jumped down from the wagon.
It didn’t take Aren long to collect the loose items and repack the back of the wagon. Within ten minutes, they were safely back on their way home.
“How often does that happen?” Carol asked once they were traveling again.
“Not too often, maybe once every few months. Usually, it’s only a horn, which doesn’t bother Wyatt too much anymore. The glass bottle, now that’s a new one. I can honestly say I’ve never had anyone throw anything at us before. Although, you’ve increased my odds now, since I only went into town maybe six times a month and four of those were for market. We’ve been in town at least six times since you came to stay with me. And please, don’t apologize. I’m enjoying it, just some levity in a veiled attempt to calm my heart rate.” Aren smiled.
“Well, I appreciate all the extra trips you’ve taken for me. Thank you again for taking me in to get this dress. It felt nice to dress appropriately for the funeral,” Carol said, still pulling bits of cat tail off her clothes.