Papina (Bearville County)

by Katie Hamstead

  "Bray…"

  I hurried up the stairs. At the top, I paused and sank onto the floor. A strange conflict stirred inside me, and I tugged at my hair to fend it off. It was too soon to move on. I still loved Forrest so much, but Paul… I felt something for him. Something I'd never expected.

  "Megan?"

  My heart jumped at the sound of Paul's voice, and I peeked down the stairs.

  He stepped up beside her, clutching his hat to his chest. "She said I'm not her type."

  My heart stopped.

  "Oh, Paul." Megan grabbed his hand. "She's making excuses. Just keep being patient. It's still too soon."

  He hung his head. "I'm nothing like Forrest. Maybe I'm really not her type and I'm—"

  "Don't let you insecurities from Hannah get to you." She poked his chest. "Bray may be a glamorous city girl with a wild-child background as well, but she's not the same. Bray has a heart, and that heart has been broken. Give her time to heal."

  His shoulders lifted as he sighed. "How did Clint get so lucky to have you?"

  She patted his cheek. "Who knows? Sometimes I wonder that myself."

  Paul smirked, letting out a soft laugh.

  "Hey." She leaned closer and glanced around. "Did you hear Sarah before?"

  He shook his head.

  She scowled. "She needs to be dealt with during this waiting time or you're going to have some problems."

  He groaned and rubbed his face. "You know I've tried everything, I've even sunk so low as being mean to her, which I really didn't want to do."

  Megan rested her hands on her hips. "Keep being mean to her. Egg her car."

  "I'm the sheriff, Megan."

  "Whatever. Desperate times call for desperate measures." Her gaze flashed toward the backyard. "She's coming back. Be mean."

  "Megan—"

  "I'm serious." She slapped his shoulder.

  A moment later, Sarah appeared. "Hey."

  Paul turned away. "I'm going to check on Bray."

  "She probably wants to be left alone," Sarah said, touching his arm.

  He pulled away. "Well I'm going to make sure that's what she wants."

  Sarah pulled back. His tone seemed to throw her off guard. "I'll check on her then."

  Megan caught her arm. "No, Sarah. How about you help me with the flowers?"

  "Go away, Megan."

  "Hey." Paul grabbed Megan's arm and glared at Sarah. "Don't talk to her like that."

  The situation grew tense, so I stood to intervene. They turned when they heard my footsteps coming down the stairs. They each had a startled expression for a moment, before they composed themselves.

  I hit the bottom stair and paused. "Sheriff?"

  "Yes?"

  "My mom wants to talk to you. I think she's out the back."

  A smirk curled Sarah's lips.

  "Okay. What about?" he asked.

  "Building a garden." I looked at Megan and found her glare burning into me. I hadn't diffused the situation at all. I'd only made it worse. "I'm going to go for a walk to clear my head."

  Sarah stepped forward. "Do you need—?"

  "Someone to watch Jackson? Yes, thank you, Sarah."

  She nodded and stepped back.

  I turned toward the door and Paul caught my arm. "It's getting late. Do you want me to come with you?"

  Behind him, Megan winced, and Sarah scowled.

  I pulled free. "No."

  I rushed out the door.

  I jogged up to Main Street, my thoughts and feelings whirring around inside me. I couldn't make sense of any of it, nor did I want to.

  I paused out the front of the courthouse and stared up at the flagpole. The flag hung at half-mast during the day, but someone had brought it down already. I walked over and pressed my forehead against the warm metal. The warmth from the day felt good, and I let myself cry.

  I'm not sure how long I stood there, but a voice startled me. "Ma'am? Are you all right?"

  I turned to see Vern Richards.

  His face fell as he recognized me.

  "Just leave me alone," I muttered, swinging back around.

  "I heard what happened to your husband and I'm sorry."

  I scoffed. "Sure you are."

  "I am. You were just starting out. No one should have their hopes and dreams snuffed out like that."

  "Even if they're married to a native?"

  There was a pause. "I was cruel to say those things, and I truly regret it now."

  I turned to face him, then sniffed and wiped my eyes. "What do you want?"

  "Nothing. I was just taking a stroll, and saw a woman in distress."

  "Why are you even here?"

  "School finishes next week, and I came to see if the town would be safe to return to next year. Many of the parents are quite frightened that there's a murderer on the loose. But when I arrived, I discovered the suspect is in custody. So, I've contacted the other parents to let them know the town is back to its usual peaceful self."

  "A suspect is in custody, but she didn't do it," I mumbled as I walked away.

  He followed. "Of course she did. All the evidence fits."

  I stopped dead in my tracks. I'd heard it so many times; the evidence points to Nova, but that time, it just made me furious. "She's a scared, fourteen-year-old girl. She didn't do it."

  He didn't answer. I waited for a moment, before starting to walk away. But then he said, "A girl capable of armed robbery."

  I flinched. But then, I slowly turned. "We're all capable of just about anything, even you, Mr. Richards."

  He raised his eyebrows as I hurried away from him. But again, he followed. "Are you implying I did it? Because I wasn't even in the state."

  "I'm not implying anything."

  He caught my arm and spun me around. "I'm sorry for your loss, Mrs. Miller, and I'm sorry this issue hasn't been resolved to your satisfaction. I would like to assist you somehow, as I am sure without your husband's income you have been quite put out."

  "I don't need your money." I pulled away.

  "Then how about a gift of condolences?"

  "No."

  "Ms. Miller, I would very much like to help you. If you would like, I have a position at my company as my assistant—"

  "I want to stay here."

  "Surely a woman such as yourself, would prefer a position with a higher level of exposure to the public."

  "What's that supposed to mean?"

  "Well, you are young, bright, and very attractive." His gaze drifted down my body.

  "Ew. Are you hitting on me?"

  His gaze shot back up to my face. "Ms. Miller—"

  "Misers."

  "I'm offering you…"

  "I don't want it."

  "A position which could…"

  "I'm not interested!"

  His hand clamped around my arm. "Why?"

  "I like it here. It's a good, safe place to raise my son. Not to mention, I'm closer in age to your own son than you."

  His eyes narrowed on my face.

  "Sir, let go of Mrs. Miller." Clint stepped up beside us. I couldn't remember the last time I felt so relieved.

  Vern let go of my arm. "The offer will remain on the table if you feel ready to move on with your life." He tilted his head in a bow. "Good evening."

  I watched him walk away, furious at what he tried to do.

  Clint rested his hand on my shoulder. "Are you okay?"

  "Yeah, he's just a jerk."

  "What are you doing out here alone anyway? It's almost eight."

  I didn't realize it was so late. "You know, hitting the town. Having a wild time."

  He raised an eyebrow. "Do I need to breath test you?"

  I laughed. "You're pretty stiff for a guy who tried to kiss his best friend."

  He blinked. "Huh?"

  "Never mind." I turned to head home.

  He matched my pace. "I'd like an excuse to see Megan."

  We walked along in silence for a few moment until he said, "Kiss my bes
t friend?"

  "It's killing you, isn't it?"

  "I'm just trying to… oh."

  "And you just got it."

  "Yup. Got a black eye for that one."

  I smiled.

  "He really does talk to you too much."

  I shook my head with a sigh. "He's around a lot, and with no one else in the house to talk to…" I shrugged. "I guess I just lean on him a bit too much."

  He shoved his hands in his pockets and looked me over. "He likes you, you know."

  "Yeah, he's a good friend," I said, hoping to divert away from what I knew he meant. "When I first met him he really rubbed me the wrong way with his backward cowboy thing, but now I know he has good intentions at heart."

  He scowled. "Backward cowboy thing?"

  "Mmm." I flushed, realizing he was exactly the same, and hurried around the corner.

  "Bray, you know he's my best friend."

  "Uh huh." I sped up feeling like this was going somewhere I didn't want. Why couldn't I just be left alone?

  "He's practically my brother."

  "I know."

  "His ex really hurt him."

  I sighed again. "I know."

  He grabbed my arm. "And I get that you're not really in a place to see anyone, but if he doesn't stand a chance ever, don't drag it out and leave him hanging onto false hope."

  My cheeks burned as I turned away. "I don't want to talk about this."

  "Bray, it's not fair on him if you—"

  I turned on him as tears burned in my eyes. "I just buried my husband. My husband. This is the last thing I even want to think about, so just leave it alone."

  He pursed his lips but nodded. "Okay. I'm sorry."

  I sobbed and rubbed my eyes. "Don't force me to do anything right now, okay?"

  "Okay."

  I turned, and to my surprise, I stood right next to my gate. I ran my fingers over the wood. "Megan should still be here."

  He hurried to open the gate for me. To my relief, she was the only person left helping Mom put Jackson to bed, while Dad sat watching TV with Donny.

  That night, as I curled up in bed, I finally managed to clear my head of everything, and fell into a dreamless sleep.

  Chapter Fifteen

  I sat nursing Jackson, barely awake, when the loud banging on the door caused me to jump.

  Dad hurried down the stairs and snapped, "It's six thirty... oh."

  "We have a warrant to search the house," the detective said.

  At six thirty? What was wrong with this man?

  "Where is Mrs. Miller?"

  "She's upstairs nursing, so please leave her for just a few moments."

  "I need to speak with her."

  "Just wait!" Dad yelled, as footsteps hurried up the stairs.

  I reached over and grabbed one of Jackson blankets, throwing it over myself just before the detective burst into the nursery. His lip curled in disgust at the sight of me, before he glanced around. "Start in here first."

  "Excuse me?" I gasped.

  Men pushed in, and I clung to Jackson in alarm. I felt so exposed in my pajamas and nursing. I glared up at him. "Couldn't you start somewhere else?"

  His eyebrow twitched but he ignored me.

  In the hallway, Mom yelled. "Hey! Be careful!"

  "Why are you doing this like… this?" I snarled up at him.

  "Don't want you getting any ideas," he muttered.

  "Ideas about what?" Jackson released me, but I clung to him, not wanting to move and expose myself.

  One of the men held up a pair of safety scissors he found in a drawer and sprayed them.

  "Ideas about hiding something. I don't want you trying to protect Nova by tampering with evidence."

  "Are you completely insane?" I glanced around at the room full of men as Jackson shifted. "Please, go to my room across the hall or Nova's room down the hall, just let me finish here."

  He leaned closer, his eyes flashing to the blanket. "He's a little old to be nursing still."

  "He's not even a year!"

  "Detective."

  The detective flinched at the sound of the sheriff's voice. Paul stood at the doorway in his uniform, with his hand rested over his gun. "I don't think this is the way you should treat Mrs. Miller when she's been so accommodating."

  The detective's nose twitched, but he tilted his head. "Are we done in here?"

  The four men answered affirmatively, so he motioned for them to leave. Paul glared at him as they each stepped out and muttered, "You may be a Fed, but this is my town, and I don't appreciate you treating the people in my care with such blatant contempt."

  "Well maybe you should have given us the girl when we first asked for her." He glared at Paul and they stared each other down as he moved out to hallway and into my bedroom.

  Paul glanced at me and gave me a nod before shutting the door.

  I let out a long breath before hurrying to make myself decent. Thankfully, I'd left a T-shirt over the dresser so I pulled it over my nursing tank that left very little to the imagination. I then changed Jackson before heading out into the hallway.

  My room and Nova's room were trashed while the men turned them up-side-down. I clung to Jackson, alarmed, and Mom rested her hand on my shoulder. "This is so unprofessional," she muttered so only I could hear.

  Something shattered downstairs and I winced, and a moment later, Dad yelled. Paul emerged from my bedroom, red with rage. Our eyes met before he growled and rushed down the stairs.

  "This might have done it," the detective said from my bedroom. He stepped out holding Forrest's bow and arrows. "Mrs. Miller, what are these?"

  "They're a bow and arrows, they're Forrest's. He made them himself—"

  He lifted the arrow in his gloved hand. "Have you ever used them?"

  "Yes, once or twice."

  "So you know how to use them?"

  "It's not complicated."

  He smirked and dropped them in a large evidence bag. "We'll get them tested."

  About twenty minutes later, they all left, leaving the house in shambles. Mom and I stared into my room at my upturned mattress, Forrest's clothes—which I'd packed into suitcases—strewn everywhere, and all my personal possessions on the floor.

  "I think that detective has it out for you," Mom said.

  I looked up at her. "I think you might be right."

  Paul appeared beside us, still red around the ears. "This isn't how they normally do things. I'm going to report that detective." He reached over and lifted Jackson off my hip. "Get dressed and come downstairs."

  I nodded and shut the bedroom door behind me.

  Twenty minutes later, I entered the kitchen to find Dad and Paul putting the last few things away while Mom made breakfast. Tears of gratitude fell and I sunk into a chair. "Thank you."

  They all looked at me. Dad set the broom aside and kissed my head. "I'm sorry I couldn't do more."

  I looked up into his eyes. "I can't pack Forrest's clothes again."

  He nodded and rushed up the stairs.

  Mom set a plate of eggs, bacon, and toast in front of me. "I'll go help your father."

  With them both gone, I shifted uncomfortably. After all I'd heard, I didn't like being left alone with Paul.

  He gave Jackson a pat on the head as Jackson wandered around the kitchen, and came and sat beside me. I stared down at my food.

  "Are we going to see Nova today?"

  "I'll go," I mumbled, shoving food in my mouth.

  "I'll take you. To be honest, with all the parents flooding into town, I really don't want to be here."

  I dropped my eye sockets into the heel of my hands. "I… I don't know if I can go to Bearville and see that detective again after all this. I have so much to clean up now."

  "Bray." He touched my back.

  I flinched away. "Don't. They just took his bow and arrow and threw all his things everywhere. They might as well unbury him while they're at it."

  "That guy's an ass."

  "No kidd
ing."

  "We'll get it fixed okay? But you should go to Nova." He sighed. "They found something incriminating in her room."

  My eyes shot to him. "What?"

  "It was a progress card which he had to sign saying the kids were improving, but she wrote on hers a confession of love… and he responded."

  My breath caught as my heart hit my stomach. "What did he say?"

  "He said she is a lovely girl and should be looking at boys her own age and not married men. She'd whited it out, but they could see the imprint of the pen."

  I clutched his arm. "There goes their affair theory, but Nova…"

  "They could use the rejection as motive."

  I groaned. "They're just out to get her! There's got to be something to prove her innocence."

  He stared into my eyes. "Even if everything mounts up against her, she'll still have you, and that will count for something in front of a jury."

  My face fell into my hands. "A jury? A court case? I've never even thought about that. I don't know if I could sit through a recount of what they think happened while they flash pictures of Forrest's body around."

  "Bray." He tugged on my arm and I scrambled onto his lap, burying my face into his chest. His arms around me felt warm and safe. "Bray, you'll have someone with you every step of the way."

  I moaned. "I used to be so independent."

  "You still are. Allowing people to help you doesn't mean you're needy."

  I ran my fingers down his muscular chest. He was right, but I still felt so afraid. But, I couldn't let my fears rule my choices, so I forced them aside while my focus turned to his strong chest. Up and down my fingers ran, taking in the feeling of the shape and subtle twitching under my touch. My hand drifted further up to his collarbone, where his hand rested over mine. I froze, my heart skipping a beat when I realized what I was doing. I jumped to my feet pulling myself free. "I'm sorry."

  "Bray."

  My cheeks burned. "I'm sorry." I rushed out of the room, plucking Jackson up as I went.

  I sank onto the couch in the front room. Covering my face so my flushed cheeks were hidden, I allowed myself to feel like a complete idiot. I couldn't believe I'd stroked the sheriff's chest like a lovesick teenager! What would Forrest think of me doing that so soon after his death? He hadn't even been gone a year yet. I was officially the worst person in the world.