Songbird's Call

by Herron, Rachael

  Molly felt the smile spread across her face. She didn’t feel like a teen. Back then, she’d been confused and nervous and insecure and then, at twenty, heartbroken over the breakup of the band and the loss of her sisters.

  Colin made her feel like a woman.

  He continued, “And I won’t invite myself to your place. No chance for shenanigans.”

  “You don’t like shenanigans, check.” She was still feeling brave. Cheeky.

  “Oh, good God, woman, I love shenanigans. Particularly yours. But I don’t want you to feel pressured.”

  A thrill ran up her spine. She didn’t mind that kind of pressure. No siree, she did not. The corners of her mouth wouldn’t stay straight. “Call me,” she said again, and winked. Then she fled, her heart hammering more loudly in the hallway than the heels of her old cowboy boots did.

  Outside, as Molly walked past the bakery where Josie was putting fresh chocolate-chip muffins in the window’s display case, she realized something terrifying. Something huge.

  She was dangerously close to falling in love with Colin McMurtry. She was standing on the edge of it, teetering.

  He was bossy.

  Overbearing.

  Cocky.

  And it didn’t matter. She was falling head over heels, heart-thumpingly and ridiculously in love with the sheriff of the damn county.

  And instead of stopping herself, instead of fleeing from real emotion and not being brave, she might be ready to fling herself off the cliff.

  With some luck and maybe some trying, they’d learn how to fly on the way down.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  He was supposed to be on patrol, but Colin was just plain distracted. He let a little old lady off with a warning after he pulled her over for failing to signal. She was the one who pointed out she’d been speeding – he hadn’t noticed. “Credit for your honesty goes to you, ma’am. Have a good night.”

  He kept thinking about her.

  Molly.

  Gorgeous, sweet, amazing Molly who made him feel like he was a superhero.

  He wasn’t one, he reminded himself. He was just a guy with a company-issued automobile.

  Just to kill time, he pasted three cars on the abandoned-vehicle list with the appropriate stickers, and then realized he was on the wrong block of Pine and why the hell did so many people own blue Priuses? He spent almost forty minutes peeling the orange stickers off, and he had to convince one irate man that it wouldn’t ruin the window’s finish. “My tax dollars at work, I see,” was the guy’s parting shot. If he had a dollar for every time he’d heard that one, he’d, well, he’d be paying more in taxes, that was for sure.

  So if it wasn’t with relief that he heard the 273.5 in progress put out on the radio, it was at least with cheerful acceptance that the last of the guy’s stickers was going to remain unpeeled until he’d responded to the domestic violence call.

  The old Balmer house was a frequent-flyer place for the sheriff’s department to visit. An old commune-turned-flophouse, Mrs. Balmer still lived on the top floor and was seen once a week in town, ordering more canned goods to be delivered to the back door. She let people live rent-free on the bottom two floors as long as the occupants let her dogs (two very tall standard poodles) in and out as they pleased. One week it was all hippie-granola weed smokers passing through on the way north to the growing fields, the next week it was a couple of transients headed south for the winter, strung out on crack and looking for a fix. Fights there varied in intensity, from people whacking each other with sage smudge sticks all the way to the Wild West shoot-out that happened the previous spring in which two people were maimed, one in the arm, one in the buttocks.

  This beef, though, appeared to be starring his cousin Bailey, the only McMurtry male beside himself not in prison.

  “It’s fine!” Bailey yelled as Colin drove up. Bailey’s naked upper torso looked disco-tastic in the strobes from the police car’s red-and-blue lights. He wore a pair of shorts and one flip-flop. “It’s all fine!”

  Colin got out and stood next to the car. Bailey wasn’t the worst of the family, but he wasn’t the best, either. “Where’s Angelica, Bailey?”

  “She’s inside.” He lifted his chin in the direction of the house.

  “You been drinking tonight?”

  Bailey looked at him blearily, swaying a little. “That against the law?”

  It was, as a matter of fact, against the law to be intoxicated in public, and if that’s what he had to haul Bailey in on tonight to settle everything down, he would. “She made the call, so I just need to talk to her before I leave y’all in peace, okay?”

  “I didn’t touch her, I swear I didn’t. She’s a liar.”

  A shriek came from inside, and then Angelica flew outside wearing only a black robe that was torn at the shoulder. “Get him out of here! Take him! I don’t want him!”

  “Ah, fuck off.” Bailey didn’t sound concerned as he lit a cigarette.

  Normally Colin would tell him to put it out, but his backup was on the other side of town, and he needed to keep the scene peaceful if at all possible. He showed his palms in a friendly, non-threatening way. “So, what’s up, Angelica?”

  “What’s up? His dick, that’s what! He slept with Caitlyn Gendron, and then he had the balls to come try to get back with me!”

  Colin couldn’t give a crap who either of them had slept with. “You’re both staying here right now?”

  Bailey flicked his cigarette so forcefully it broke in half. “Since you put my daddy away? Yeah. He lost the house, so I’m homeless, thanks to you.” He picked up the still burning half of the cigarette and sucked on it filterless.

  Bailey’s father, Huffer McMurtry, had his nickname for a reason. Better known for huffing paint than anything else, he’d gone up for burglary with aggravated assault when he robbed a paint warehouse in Kalamas County. And it hadn’t been Colin who put him away, although he would have, given half the chance. “So tell me. What’s going on tonight?”

  “She hit me! Right here!” Bailey pointed at his upper arm, which, apart from a botched tattoo of a mermaid that looked more like a sailor, appeared unhurt.

  “Yeah, well, he deserved it! Caitlyn Gendron? She doesn’t even like you!”

  “Ah, shut up,” Bailey said.

  “She said your breath smelled like cat food!”

  “Go back inside and shut the hell up! Do as I say!”

  Usually in a heated situation, Colin felt himself go calm. He felt his breathing slow and his heart rate reduce. Later, it always caught up to him, but in the moment, he stayed even-keeled and composed. Now, though, he felt heat flare up his neck. “How about you not order her around, Bailey?” His throat was tight.

  His cousin ignored him. “Go inside, Ang! Don’t talk to him! Don’t you dare say another word.”

  “Word!” she screamed. “Another word!”

  “Shut up, shut up, shut up!”

  Red coated the insides of Colin’s eyelids. In one fast move, he had Bailey face down on the ground, his arm pulled behind him. Gravel dug into the knees of his uniform, and Bailey gave an oomph.

  Angelica shrieked, “Police brutality! Help!”

  Colin lifted his head. “I’m taking him in for being drunk, and so help me, I’ll take you, too, and put you in the same cell if you say one more word.”

  She turned and ran into the house, throwing a high-pitched laugh over her shoulder as she went.

  Colin heard his words played back in his head, as if he had an open mic again. He felt sick.

  He was arresting Bailey for being drunk in public. That’s what the report would say.

  But he knew, it was really for ordering Angelica around like she didn’t matter. Do as I say.

  And then he’d gone and just done the exact same damn thing.

  As he packed Bailey into the back of the patrol car, his cousin kept up a string of curses, coloring the air blue, along with one-liners like, You’re just like your daddy. All about who w
ears the badge, innit? You’re one of us, like he was, too.

  On the way back to the station, Colin clenched his teeth, refusing to take the bait.

  He wasn’t his father.

  He was not his father.

  Just trash. No-good count-outs, and you know I’m right. I bet the best thing your daddy ever tasted was that bullet, going down his throat.

  Colin choked on his need to respond.

  He didn’t. He didn’t respond. Because what was there to say?

  He ordered people around.

  He arrested his own family for basically being stupid.

  How was he better than his father?

  Maybe he just plain wasn’t.

  Colin wondered if he could break his own jaw if his teeth clenched tightly enough. It would kind of be like punching himself out, wouldn’t it?

  And that might be okay.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  “This isn’t going to happen,” said Nikki.

  “Yes, it is.” The happy elation she’d felt leaving the sheriff’s office the afternoon before had abandoned Molly by then. A whole morning’s work on the old caboose, and they were more behind than ever.

  “Come on. We can’t get this ready to be the coffee bar by opening day.”

  “We can,” said Molly from a kneeling position. “One more try.” They were attempting to install an old (but really good – the best her limited funds could buy) espresso machine. “It should fit now.”

  “I think he put the water line in the wrong place.”

  Molly shook her head, and they heaved the hulking beast up and onto the counter. “There! Look. It’s beautiful.” She stood back – well, as far back as she could stand in a space that was three by five. Uncle Hugh had used to sell regular old coffee out of the caboose, and had originally put in the service window. The stainless steel had polished right up with enough elbow grease, and because they weren’t going to use it as a sandwich stand like he had, they had plenty of room for everything else – a small cash register, all the cups, sugar, a small fridge for milk. She’d stolen the idea for white twinkle lights from the back of the saloon, and she’d wound them around every part she could on the old train caboose. Even now in mid-afternoon, sunshine was dim through thick fog, and it looked magical, as if somehow it might chug silently away down the trackless street.

  “We still have to teach the employees how to make coffee with it. I don’t even know how to use it yet.” Nikki sounded despondent.

  It wasn’t like her. Usually Nikki was so cheerful.

  Molly flapped a rag at her. “You okay?”

  Nikki nodded. “Yeah.”

  “It feels good, though, this hard work. Doesn’t it? I helped a friend of mine shear some of his sheep one year on my vacation time, and I woke up every morning feeling places I’d never felt before. This morning when I stood up, I felt a tiny muscle in my butt. You know? You don’t think about muscles in your butt until they hurt and then you think about them a lot.”

  Nikki stretched her arms and then pulled her hair up, piling it loosely on top of her head. “I guess so.”

  “The side of your neck is so dirty.” There were streaks of brown and green and an almost dark black at the base of Nikki’s neck, just above the clavicle.

  Nikki looked stricken. She dropped her hair and leaned forward so that it covered her neck.

  Her hair had been down all day.

  “Oh, my God.”

  “It’s nothing.” Nikki scrubbed the counter next to the machine – a part of the counter she’d scrubbed already three times. “I promise.”

  “Nikki.”

  “It’s fine.”

  “That’s not fine. That is literally the opposite of fine. Show me again.”

  Nikki wrapped her fingers around a steel bar they planned to hang service rags from. “Please don’t do this.”

  “Don’t do this? What else did he do to you?” Molly couldn’t see the bruise now, but she remembered the shape of it. It was seared into her vision as clearly as if she’d been staring into a light. Two fingerprints, one maybe as wide as a thumb. Nikki’s head had been slightly turned, but Molly wouldn’t have been surprised to see a matching set of bruises on the other side of her neck.

  Nikki had worn a collared shirt all week, now that Molly thought about it. And her hair had been left down, even though it must get in the way when they were working hard. How had Molly not noticed?

  “What happened?”

  “Nothing. I swear. We were just messing around.”

  Molly stretched out her hand, hoping Nikki would take it, but Nikki had retreated, was as far away as she could be from Molly while still being in the same small metal room. Her arms were folded, her chin tucked, her eyes on her dirty rag.

  “Talk to me. Nikki.” Molly left her hand in the air, open. “You can talk to me.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Yeah. You’re acting fine about it.” Molly’s heart galloped in her chest. Somehow this pushing felt wrong. Intrusive.

  It wasn’t polite.

  But.

  “Nikki, please.”

  “Back off.”

  Molly felt her courage shrink, a balloon deflating. She was being so rude. What if it was nothing? Who was she to cast aspersions on Todd? On any part of Nikki’s life?

  Then she imagined the look of that thumbprint, so dark it was almost black, with a sickly green center.

  “No,” Molly said quietly. Her head hurt from the sudden rush of blood. “What happened?”

  Nikki jutted out her chin. “It’s hot. We like to role-play. You know, BDSM?” She said it loudly, as if daring her to ask more.

  Jesus, now Molly was prying into someone’s sex life. She couldn’t do this.

  Nikki went on, “You do know what BDSM means?” Her voice was ice.

  Molly nodded.

  “So just drop it.”

  It was wrong. It felt wrong. Molly would have laid dollars to donuts that Nikki was the kind to swap sex stories over lunch, titillating and hilarious stories of funny noises made while love-making, who fell out of bed, who lasted longer.

  But this wasn’t bragging.

  This was deflecting.

  “I don’t…I don’t believe you.” Molly squared her shoulders. “Tell me the truth.”

  Nikki bared her teeth. “He likes it rough. So do I.”

  Molly spoke as softly as she could. “Why do I feel like you wouldn’t want me to tell your brother about this?”

  “About my sex life? No brother wants to hear about that, believe me.” In the next three seconds, Nikki changed completely. She lost her rigidity and got smaller, balling her hands into fists and pressing them together, as if she were about to enter a ring wearing boxing gloves. As if she knew she would lose. “Please don’t.”

  “Why not?”

  Nikki made a choking noise in the back of her throat.

  “Because he wouldn’t believe you, either?”

  “I’m dealing with it.”

  “How?”

  A pause. “Counseling.”

  “As in you’re in it?”

  “I looked it up.”

  “You need to get out.”

  Nikki shook her head. “It’s so easy to say that. You sitting there, with your money and your fame and your…your stature in this town. You think I could walk into the bank and get a loan against my name? Like you did? I can’t even get a job except as a glorified janitor.”

  “I can try to help –”

  “Oh, good. Charity. That’s what I need.”

  Molly wanted to apologize, to run away, to pretend this had never happened.

  But goddammit. She stuck a hand into her jeans pocket and felt the plastic star poke her. She couldn’t look the other way. She took a deep breath. “You tell me or I’ll tell your brother. Take your pick.”

  Nikki stood. “Then we walk. It’s too tight in here. I can’t breathe.”

  Outside, Nikki made for the narrow path that ran from the business
area down to the sand. Molly followed, carefully staying silent, swallowing the lump of fear in her throat. Was this the wrong thing? She was prying. She was forcing her way into something that wasn’t her business.

  Nikki wouldn’t react like this if it wasn’t something bad.

  They walked past the old changing rooms that had been renovated into public restrooms years ago. From here they could see Skip’s Ice Cream was doing a booming business despite the coolness and overcast skies.

  The pathway ended at the boardwalk that wound through the marina down to the water. Nikki strode forward, anger crackling off her skin.

  But it wasn’t directed at Molly. And even if it was, she’d handle it. It’s okay if Nikki hates me right now. It was a lie to herself, a brazen one. One she would choose to believe.

  They walked out to the end of the rocks, to the big flat one that had been a favorite seagull-baiting spot with kids through the decades. It was deserted. Rain started to spit fitfully, fat drops slapping and stopping again, inaudible in the sound of the waves.

  “I don’t…” Nikki shook her head and kept her eyes on the whitecaps. “I mean…Shit. What am I trying to say?” She folded her arms, grabbing her elbows.

  “It’s okay.”

  Nikki just stared. “It’s not okay. I know that. I’m not stupid, you know. People probably think I am, the McMurtry girl who didn’t even graduate from high school. No place to go but down, you know? But I was smart. I used to be smart. And I know that when Todd…loses his temper, I know I should get out. But it’s my fault, too, that’s what no one like you can understand. God knows my brother wouldn’t understand it.”

  “It’s not your fault.” Unsure what to do with her hands, Molly kept them in her pockets. She rubbed the badge again, counting the points of it with her thumbnail.

  “See? You don’t get it. You can’t get it. Your boyfriends have always treated you like the princess you are, haven’t they? Yeah, they told you you’re beautiful and perfect and exactly right, the way you are.”