"Of course," Milo replied. "I don't want, or expect, either of you to do anything that's labor-intensive, Rip. More than anything, I need an extra hand picking up supplies. I don't have time to drive back and forth to Corpus every day, and that's the closest place I can obtain most of the materials I need right now. They'll load the materials into my truck for you. You won't have to handle it all yourself. Don't even try to do any heavy lifting."
"I won't. I'd be happy to run to Corpus anytime you need me to."
"'Run?' I'd rather you take my truck, Rip. Running might not be such a good idea with that new hip of yours." Milo chuckled at his own joke, then grew serious. "Thank you. That'll help me out more than you can imagine."
"It'd be my pleasure."
“You’re going to have to learn to say ‘no’, honey,” Regina said lovingly to her husband. “You are going to work yourself to a frazzle. You can’t help every single person who asks.”
Milo nodded with a warm smile. “I’ve noticed you haven’t turned your back on any opportunity to help others.”
"Yeah, I guess you're right." Regina smiled at her husband.
“It’s always nice to lend a hand to others needing assistance,” I said softly. “But neither of you will be of any help to anyone if you get ill.”
“We know,” Regina said. “It’s just hard to turn down friends and acquaintances when we know what dire straits they’re in.”
Milo reached over to clasp Regina’s hand. “But I’m going to have to draw the line somewhere. Like Regina said, I can’t help every one of them. The extra money will come in handy, though, as I’m sure we won’t be able to recuperate all we’ve lost from the insurance company. I wish Regina would slow down a bit though."
“I’ll try, honey.” Regina squeezed Milo’s hand before standing up to clear the table.
Milo kissed Regina and grabbed a couple of cookies to take with him as he prepared to depart. Rip and Regina each helped themselves to several as well. I shook my head at Rip as he reached for a fourth.
As Regina was helping me wash the dishes, she said, “Take those cookies back to your trailer, Mom. They are delicious and I can’t resist them. I’ll never lose the ten pounds I’ve gained over the summer with temptations like those sitting around. You make the best cookies of anyone I know.”
“Thanks, sweetheart, but we don’t need the extra calories either.” Regina looked thinner to me than she had when we’d last seen her. I’d chalked her weight loss up to stress following the hurricane and severely decreased dining options. However, she looked healthy and I didn’t want to debate the subject. “Hey! Do you think Walker would eat them? He’s probably not eating right with his wife missing.”
“Great idea,” Regina agreed. “I’m not sure ‘eating right’ includes gorging on cookies, but I’m sure they’d be very welcome. The poor guy looks as if he’s lost twenty pounds since the storm. I doubt he’s had any home cooking since Reilly disappeared. In fact, why don’t you take over this extra sandwich and some chips, as well. There’s no sense letting them go to waste if someone can benefit from them. In fact, let me have four of those cookies. I’ll grill a couple more sandwiches and take them, the cookies, and a bag of Fritos from the pantry to an elderly couple up the street. I’ve been checking in on them daily and dropping off hot meals whenever I can.”
“How thoughtful of you. I knew I raised you right.” I kissed her cheek and asked, “How old are these elderly folks you’re looking out for?”
“Probably mid-seventies.”
“I see. Thanks for lunch, dear.” I suddenly felt ancient, as if I had one foot in the urn and the other on an out-of-control skateboard.
I put the twelve leftover cookies back in the zip-lock bag I’d brought them over in and the sandwich and chips in two other quart-sized storage bags. I then thanked Regina for lunch again and told Rip I’d be in our trailer after I delivered the “comfort” food to the neighbor. I knew Regina didn’t need us underfoot any more than necessary and I had to get the trailer back in order after being on the road for a couple of days. Everything needs to be stored away before bouncing down I-35, which seems to always be under construction. We wouldn’t want Dolly, who rides in the trailer while we’re traveling, to be beaned by a flying salt shaker after we’d dodged a strip of rubber that’d just unraveled from one of a semi’s retreaded rear tires.
As I walked across the lawn with cookies in hand, I had no idea what kind of ripple effect my friendly gesture was going to initiate. Had I known, I might have hurried back to the trailer and washed down all the cookies with what was left of my afternoon highball of tequila, orange juice, and grenadine. The drink had the appearance of a sunrise. I called it my “Rockport Special” because beautiful sunrises and sunsets were two of the things the town was known for.
Naturally, I didn’t snarf down the dozen cookies, but in hindsight, perhaps I should have. Even the bellyache that was apt to result, had I chosen that noshing option, might have been better than the undertaking I was about to immerse myself in.
Four
There was a red truck in the driveway next to a tan Ford Explorer with a “For Sale” sign in the windshield, so I figured Mr. Reynolds was home. I assumed the tan car belonged to his wife, Reilly, and he was trying to sell her vehicle since she was presumed to be dead. I was wrong on both counts.
I also expected to see a grieving husband in the entryway after I knocked on the door of the moderately damaged home. When I looked in through the busted-out window of the front door, my first thought was that I was not only wrong, I was dead wrong. Literally.
A very large man wearing blue jeans splattered with fresh concrete, a white wife-beater tank top, and concrete-caked work boots lay prostrate on the living room floor. The bald fellow was a very light-skinned Hispanic, most likely of mixed race. His arms were splayed out at his sides, his mouth gaped open, and a hammer lay ominously beside him. It appeared he’d been in the process of securing the threshold of the doorway into the kitchen when he’d been assaulted. Pardon my pun, but I quickly came to the conclusion he was deader than a doornail when I couldn’t detect any rising or falling of his slightly protruding abdomen.
Was that hammer the weapon used to murder the man? I wondered. Should I call the police? His skin still looks ruddy, so it might not be too late to save him. I need to at least make an attempt, don’t I? But is it safe to go in and check for a pulse? His attacker may still be inside the house.
These were just a few of the thoughts and questions whirling through my mind as I studied the lifeless body of whom I assumed was Walker Reynolds. I’d only had a few glimpses of Walker at a party months ago. I didn’t recall the man being so bulky, but I’d been downing my Rockport Specials that evening like there was no tomorrow. The bald man on the floor resembled a bodybuilder. In fact, at first glance, he’d reminded me of Jessie Ventura. I couldn’t see any obvious wounds, but my viewpoint was limited. To improve it, I slipped inside as silently as I could and tiptoed through the kitchen just far enough to listen for signs of intruders within the residence, but close enough to make a mad dash for the door should I hear anyone.
A frightening noise stopped me in my tracks. The hammering I heard was loud and ominous. I wasn’t sure if it was an ax murderer in the living room or my own rapidly pounding heart. Fortunately, it was the latter, and I took a deep calming breath when I realized the thumping wasn’t coming from a serial killer about to add me to his or her belt full of notches.
I stood quietly for several long moments, listening for other sounds that might indicate someone else’s presence in the house. When I heard nothing but silence, I proceeded on toward the body. I crouched down and reached over to check for a pulse. When the lifeless body leaped to its feet like a star athlete who’d just been plowed over by a defensive tackle, I keeled over in a dead faint. Lucky for me I was already just inches from the Saltillo-tiled floor.
“Lady?” I heard a voice from afar. “Lady? Are you all right?”
I could make out the words, but I couldn’t open my eyes or respond to the man’s questions. Finally, when I realized I was lying face down on the floor, I said, “Yes. Please, help me up.”
“Lady? Wake up. Are you all right?” When the man repeated himself, I realized I had not spoken the words out loud. Trying to open my eyes was akin to trying to speak after super-gluing my lips together, which had actually happened to me years ago, prompting a visit to the local urgent care clinic. My lips had refused to part then just as my eyelids were doing now.
When it became clear the man was utilizing his cell phone to dial 9-1-1, I found the strength to open my eyes and speak. “I’m okay. Please hang up. I’m sure the first responders have a lot more urgent situations to attend to right now.”
“Oh, thank God,” the man said with obvious relief. “I haven’t been able to get a signal since before the hurricane. I was just hoping against hope I could get through to someone. Jeez, Louise. I thought you were dead, lady.”
“Well, I’m not. I’m very much alive.”
“I can see that. Why’d you come in here?” The man’s hands were placed on his hips as if he was convinced I’d been up to no good when I trespassed into what I had believed to be his home. Having seen him up close, I realized he wasn’t the owner of the house, after all.
“I came in to help you!” I tried to restrain the defensiveness in my voice.
“Why?”
“Because I thought you were dead!”
“Well, I’m not. I’m very much alive, too.”
“Yeah, no shit!” Now my defensive tone had been replaced by one of annoyance. “When I looked through the glass pane of the front door, I saw you lying lifeless on the floor. Or at least you looked lifeless. After what’s happened with Walker’s wife, and all, I…” I stopped speaking abruptly. I didn’t know how best to approach the subject of the missing woman.
“Thanks for your concern, but Reilly was killed in the storm. I’m pretty sure there’s not a serial killer on the loose.” The man flashed a rueful smile.
“Don’t be cheeky, young man. I never even gave that a thought”. Liar, liar, pants on fire.
“Pardon my rudeness, ma’am. Give me your hand and I’ll help you up.” After he lifted me to my feet as though I were a child, he introduced himself. “I’m Jessie of Jessie Garza Construction.”
“Jessie? No kidding?” I asked. “That’s quite the coincidence. I’d actually thought you were Jessie Ventura at first glance. You look so much like him. He was that pro-wrestler turned governor of―”
“I know who he is,” he said with a grin. “I’ve literally been told I look like him a million times.”
“What are you doing here?” I asked, rather than explain to him what the word “literally” meant. I could’ve pretty much assured him he hadn’t actually been told he looked like the former Minnesota governor a million times. For some irrational reason, the misuse of the word was a pet peeve of mine.
“I’m restoring Walker’s home, with the help of a few subcontractors. But you’re right. Poor Walker’s entire world was ripped apart by Hurricane Harvey. I can understand why the sight of me lying on the floor frightened you. I’ve been working on the water lines all morning and was just catching some Z’s on my lunch break."
"I'm sorry I startled you."
"That's all right. I was just caught off guard. I'm sorry I scared you so much you passed out." Jessie gazed longingly at the food in the plastic bags as I picked them up off the floor, having dropped them when I blacked out. He actually licked his lips before speaking again. "Was Walker supposed to meet you here or something?”
“No. We only met once and it was so brief, he probably doesn’t even remember me.”
“He told me he might pop in on his accountant today. He’s been trying to get all the documents together he’ll need for his insurance claim. I’ve been alone all day, but I’d be happy to tell him you stopped by.”
“No, that’s quite all right. I just came over to bring him some food. My daughter and son-in-law live next door. My name’s Rapella Ripple,” I said. “You can call me Rapella. Well, um, since Walker isn’t here, and I just happen to have a sandwich, some chips, and a few cookies that need a home, they’re yours for the taking.”
I smiled as I held the food out in front of me. Jessie smiled even more broadly as he realized I was offering it to him. He took the Ziploc bags from my outstretched hands and thanked me. “This all looks delicious. I’ve been burning both ends of the candle and forgot to bring a lunch with me. As they say, my stomach thinks my throat’s been cut. You are an absolute angel, Ms. Ripple.”
“Rapella.”
“Rapella is an unusual name.”
“Thanks,” I replied, although his comment hadn’t really sounded like a compliment. “But just because it's unusual doesn’t mean you can’t use it.”
“Yes, ma’am. I get it.”
“No, I don’t think you do. Please call me Rapella, not ma’am or Ms. Ripple.”
“This food is very much appreciated, Rapella,” he said with a wink. “I’ve been working hard this morning and I’m starving. I can’t tell you how glad I am you thought I was dead and came into the house to save me.”
I blushed the color of the cocktail I’d fortunately set up on the counter before passing out. I’d be wearing it now if I hadn’t needed to free up my hand to check Jessie’s neck for a pulse. Jessie laughed at my embarrassment. I clearly had overreacted out of a heightened sense of distress due to the overwhelming destruction surrounding us. The fact that the lady of the house had been lost in the storm didn’t help matters any. A sense of foreboding filled the house like a natural gas leak. You couldn’t see it, but you knew it was present.
Retrieving my drink from the counter, I turned to Jessie. “This truly is my first adult beverage of the day.”
“Never had a doubt.”
“And, speaking of which, do you need something to drink to wash down your lunch?”
“No, but thank you. I have a cooler full of water in the back of my truck.”
“Is that Reilly’s Explorer in the driveway next to your truck?” I asked.
“No. Walker sold her Lexus a week or so after the storm. The Explorer belongs to a friend of Walker’s who lives way out in the country. He thought he’d have a better shot of selling it here than at his place, particularly after Walker was able to sell Reilly’s car so quickly. A lot of people’s vehicles were destroyed in the hurricane and they’ll be looking for cheap transportation.”
“I see. It sounds as if Walker is certain Reilly’s gone.”
It took Jessie a moment or two to respond. “Reilly’s car had a big dent in the roof after a large palm tree fell on top of it during Harvey. I think Walker plans to buy her a brand new Lexus if and when she returns. But the chances of that are slim to none. I’m convinced she’s gone forever.”
“Don’t you think her body will eventually be found?” I asked.
“I thought it might at one time, but I’m almost certain at this point it’ll never be seen again.” He looked pleased at the thought, which unnerved me.
“You’re probably right. A lot of time has passed since her disappearance. Do you live here in Rockport, Jessie?” At his solemn nod, I added, “Was your home damaged, as well?”
“Yep. But, fortunately, it’s still habitable, and nothing has to be fixed until I get the insurance check. The TWIA adjuster is coming this afternoon, in fact.”
“That’s good. I’m happy you were one of the lucky ones.” We chatted a few more minutes and then I excused myself. I could sense he was anxious for me to leave so he could dig into the food I’d given him, obviously too polite to eat while we were conversing. Suddenly, he got more talkative.
“Thanks. I was a lot luckier than Walker, for sure.”
“Sounds like he’s lost hope that Reilly will show back up.” The thought saddened me. I don’t know that I could ever give up hope until I saw proof of my
loved one’s demise.
“I don’t think he’s totally given up hope,” Jessie said. His next few remarks struck me as cold-hearted, but I didn’t know Reilly as well as he likely did. “But he’s had to be realistic about the situation and put it behind him. I know I would. Reilly was kind of a wrecking ball when it came to families. She’d lure a guy in, break his heart, and move on. This time, Walker’s the one moving on.”
“Moving on? His wife probably died a horrible death.” I didn’t appreciate Jessie’s insensitivity. “Moving on” to me said he was already open to beginning a new relationship with another woman. “Is he already dating again?”
“I didn’t say that. Although an attractive blonde about his age stopped by looking for him this morning. She was wearing shorts so short and tight you could see a freckle on her hip through the fabric. Said to give him that message over on the table when I see him.” The man pointed to a yellow post-it note on the kitchen table. Considering the pile of papers, catalogs, envelopes, and fliers on the table, the blonde would be lucky her note didn’t get lost in the shuffle before Walker had a chance to read it. Looked like the mail hadn’t been sorted through since the hurricane. “If he is seeing the gal, I can’t say I blame him. She was quite the looker. Built like a brick shit―”
The contractor stopped suddenly and began to apologize. I waved off his apology. “I get the picture. Just seems a little soon to jump back into the dating game. Reilly and Walker were still newlyweds. Seems he could at least wait for some kind of confirmation of his wife’s death, if you ask me.”
His expression clearly read “I didn’t ask you”. His actual words weren’t much better. “I suppose. But hey! His wife, his life. Unfortunately, it’s pretty much a foregone conclusion, even to Walker, that Reilly was washed away during the storm. He can’t be expected to sit around and grieve for the rest of his life, you know. After all, it’s been three weeks since she disappeared in the middle of the hurricane. She’d have surely shown up by now if she was still alive.”
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