Willow held a large black bag in her hand, and she was making another circuit of the patio, collecting trash. She bent over to pick up an abandoned plate and napkin, and when she straightened, she glanced over at Eddie and caught him studying her. She smiled warmly, and crossed the cobbled stones to where he was working. She asked him a question, to which he grinned, nodded, and said something apparently hilarious, because Willow threw her head back and laughed like a hyena. This time, Donny did cringe, partly because of her raucous laugh—he didn’t know why, but it really, really bugged him—and partly because of the way she was responding to Eddie. Eddie! The big tub of lard with the greasy hair and greasier pants. Eddie, who sometimes smelled like he hadn’t made it to the toilet in time. Eddie, who hadn’t had a woman notice him—besides Sheena—in years.
He suddenly missed Sheena something fierce. He took another swig of beer, and let his mind drift. Where was she today? Who was she with today? Had she found another shoulder to cry on, just like she’d done with Eddie? It wasn’t long before missing her turned to something a little uglier, darker. He knew she liked the fireworks, and he knew she preferred to watch them from under a blanket in the back of her truck. And he knew that for the first time in years, he wasn’t under that blanket on the 4th of July, watching the fireworks with her.
Pushing himself up too quickly, he stumbled a little, and Myra glared up at him with those wide eyes of hers. “Ai-yi-yi, Donny. You scared me. My heart, remember? I’m not ready to die yet.” Then she turned adoring eyes on her brother-in-law on the other side of her, and said, “I have a very good reason to stick around a little longer, right, Jackson?”
“Sorry,” Donny mumbled, not really caring a lick about Myra’s perfectly healthy heart. “I just need to use the little boy’s room.” He headed inside, glancing over his shoulder to see who was paying attention. Didn’t look like anyone cared, so he stopped at the little fridge first, and pulled out two more cans. The box seemed emptier than it should, but he didn’t have time to count how many he’d already downed—the last thing he needed was Willow, or worse, Eddie, catching him in here, a beer in both hands. He hurried to the bathroom, put the lid of the toilet down, and sat. The first beer, he chugged, the second, he drank a little slower, swishing the cold liquid around in his mouth. If he sat in here long enough, he really would need to use the bathroom.
“How convenient,” he said aloud.
There was a full-length mirror on the back of the bathroom door, and because the room was so small, he could see himself in all his ridiculous glory. Hiding in the bathroom like a teenager, downing beers like there was no tomorrow, wanting Sheena, wanting Willow. Heck, he might even settle for Shelly if Eddie didn’t want her.
Tired of looking at himself, he let his eyes wander around the tiny room. There was a shelving unit built up over the back of the toilet where Willow kept folded towels and washcloths, a basket of stuff for her hair, bottles of shampoo and conditioner, lotions, and other assorted girly things. He breathed in deeply, entranced by the way her place smelled. It permeated everything, but when he stood and popped the caps off the products on the shelves, none of them had that same aroma. He gingerly opened her medicine cabinet, the magnet on the mirrored door making a loud click as it released its hold and swung wide. Cringing, he paused, ears pricked, but his eyes wandered over the items in there, too. Tylenol, nasal spray, Q-tips, cotton balls, nail polish, the usual stuff. He reached up and took a little packet off the top shelf. Birth control pills? With no man around?
Feeling a little bolder, he pulled open the small cupboard below the sink. He found paper towels, bathroom cleaners, and a stack of rags folded neatly. Face down on top of the pile was a small, framed photograph. He flipped it, and peered down into the eyes of a child that looked exactly like Willow. Exactly. Unruly, wild, curly hair, wide sparkling eyes, a smile that hid mischief of one kind or another; it had to be her. She sat on the lap of a dark-haired man, whose head was bent forward whispering something into her ear, but his eyes were lifted toward the camera, smiling just as openly as the child.
It didn’t look all grainy and faded, like an old photograph, and although Donny figured Willow probably wasn’t any older than thirty, the picture seemed newer than that. Prying the back off the frame, he carefully removed the padding that kept everything in place. Sure enough, on the back of the picture, the words, “Daddy and Me” were scrawled in a careful hand.
But why was the thing face down in her bathroom cupboard?
He put the pieces back together, and returned it, just the way he’d found it. What did he care? Maybe she was mad at her dad and didn’t feel like looking at his pretty face. Donny certainly understood that feeling. Besides, it wasn’t like he could go out and ask her. “Hey Willow! I was snooping around your bathroom while I was downing my contraband beers and I found that picture you hid of you and your dad. So what’s up?” Right.
Tap-tap-tap! The sharp whack of knuckles on the bathroom door startled Donny so badly he dropped the can he still held, the remaining contents spilling on the floor. “Donny? What are you doing in there?”
Eddie. Turning the water on high and flushing the toilet at the same time so as to block out any sound he made, Donny pulled the roll of paper towels from under the sink and began sopping up the spilled beer. It wasn’t much, but if Eddie was going to stand out there waiting for him, he’d smell the beer, no problem.
“I’m fine, Eddie. Can’t a man take a leak in private? You’re not my babysitter.”
“Maybe not officially.”
“Seriously, Man. Give me a minute, will ya? I—I think I ate too much this afternoon.” And what was he going to do with all the paper towels he’d used?
“You have five minutes. If you’re not out in five minutes, I’m coming in to get you out.” Eddie’s voice was low, but very serious; a tone Donny recognized as trouble.
“All right, all right! I’ll be out in a few minutes.” Getting caught was bad enough. Getting caught by Eddie was even worse. Getting caught doing something he had every right doing—drinking—was absolutely ridiculous. He should just walk out with the beer in his hand. What were they going to do; make him go home? Well, maybe it was about time he bailed anyway.
Yanking open the door, one hand clutching the wad of paper towels, both empty cans crumpled in his other hand, he stormed out into Willow’s little place. But no one waited for him, no one was watching for him. Through the large window in the main room looking out over the patio, he could see the rest of the Coach House residents enjoying the late afternoon, relaxing in the shade, some with their feet in the little stream that ran along Willow’s patio. Willow was handing out plates of dessert; one of those fancy cheesecakes with some kind of fruit topping. Even from here, it looked tasty. In fact, from here, Ms. Willow Goodhope looked pretty tasty herself.
~ ~ ~ ~
Chapter 6
Edith accepted two plates from Willow and tried to smile brightly up at her hostess. Where on earth was Donny? The last time she’d seen him, he was heading inside to use the bathroom. Was he still in there?
Just then, he came out the front door, and she frowned when she saw the cans in his hand. Why? Why did he have to drink when no one else was, when everyone else was committed to making this an alcohol-free party? She held one of the plates aloft.
“Donny!” she called, catching his attention. “I grabbed one for you, too. Come and get it.” He came toward her, and she breathed in deeply through her nose, trying to gauge by smell how far gone he was. Only two cans wouldn’t mess him up, but something told her that there were probably more than two cans missing from the twenty-four pack he’d brought.
Whew! Sure enough, the air around him was ripe, sour. “Is everything all right, Donny? Are you feeling okay?” Maybe he should go home and try to sleep it off. He could always come back in an hour or so, in time for the fireworks. Doc and Eddie had scrounged up a box of them from somewhere, and no one was going to ask about the ones that mi
ght not meet California regulations for do-it-yourself firework shows.
“I’m fine, Ma. Quit babying me.” He didn’t sound fine. He sounded angry. Petulant. Like a little boy who wasn’t getting his own way.
“Okay,” she said, trying to keep a light, conversational tone in her voice. “You need to try this cheesecake, Donny. Willow says this fruit topping is made from raspberries, blueberries, and elderberries. My goodness, it’s delicious!”
“Oh, yeah. Delicious.” The way he said it—slowed way down and a little slurred—made her so anxious she nearly dropped the plate she held out to him. Following the direction of his gaze, she found him staring openly at Willow, his eyes drifting freely over her slim body, lingering in places that weren’t proper.
“Donny!” She kept the smile on her face but her whisper was harsh. “Stop it now!”
“Back off, Ma. Nothing wrong with looking.” His words were definitely slurred, and he didn’t sound much like the mischievous boy he usually was.
“Yes, there is. It’s rude. Stop it. Please behave.” She took a deep breath and straightened her shoulders, then held the dessert plate in front of him again. “Have some cheesecake, honey.”
“Please behave,” Donny mimicked her, his lips drawn up in a snarl. “Be a good boy, please. Don’t be naughty, please. Stop treating me like a little kid, Ma.”
Edith was shocked. Why was he talking to her like this? And here, of all places? She quickly scanned the group; where was Eddie?
Doc planted himself directly in front of them, his solid mass clearly intended to block their view. He spoke quietly, and wore a grin, his water-blue eyes bright and clear as he looked from one to the other, then landed on her son. Doc took another bite of the dessert he held, and chewed slowly. Edith could almost feel Donny’s discomfort.
“Hey there, Donny-boy. Whatever happened to that box of brewskies you brought over with you?” It was asked in such a way that to any bystander, there would have been no reason to sound the alarm. But Edith knew the question was weighted heavily, and she was pretty sure Doc was asking something else entirely.
He waited patiently for a response, taking another bite of his cheesecake, then another, before Donny finally cussed, and started to get up. The steel toe of Doc’s military-issue left boot landed carefully, strategically, over the top half of Donny’s Converse-encased foot. Donny dropped back into his chair, his lips pressed tightly together. They faced off in silence a few extremely long moments before Doc removed his foot and nodded reassuringly at Edith.
“There won’t be any scenes here today, Donny-boy. I think it’s time for you to go home. And I think whatever is left of that case, you’ll do just fine leaving it behind.”
“Uh, that won’t be happening, Doc,” Donny sneered. “I might agree to go on home, but I paid for that beer; it’s mine.”
Edith turned sharply, suddenly fed up with her son’s boorish behavior.
“Excuse me, Donny. Who paid for that beer?” She kept her voice low, but she could feel a flush begin to creep up her chest. She was embarrassed by him today in a way she hadn’t been in a long time.
“I did, Ma.” His voice caught a little, but he turned his scathing stare on her, and she saw the challenge in his eyes, daring her to oppose him. Usually, she just backed off, but this time, today, when almost everyone in the park had come together like a big family reunion, she was angry. Angry that her son would be that family member that everyone snickered about, the person everyone rolled their eyes over, the one people expected to screw up.
Donny was a big boy. Why was he still assuming she’d come to his rescue? “You did? With what money? The stuff you stole from my candy dish?” She waved a hand at the flowers on the table, perky and pretty and festive. “And the flowers? The champagne? Did I pay for that, too?” She tried to keep her voice down, but her eyes began to smart and she turned away. She would not cry.
“It’s time, buddy. Up you go.” Doc leaned forward to put a hand on Donny’s shoulder, but the younger man shrugged away from him, shoved his chair back, and sauntered away, his head high. Without missing a beat, Doc dropped into the chair Donny vacated and winked at Edith, then pointed at the plates in her hand. “You going to eat both of those?”
She smiled, handed one to him, and whispered “Thank you.”
“Everything all right at home?” She loved the way Doc dealt head-on with things without making a big to-do about it. The crowd had quieted around the exchange between him and Donny, but the conversations were picking up quickly, and from appearances, no one would guess that he was asking her a very serious question.
“I think so. I don’t expect him to ransack the house or anything. And I have my car keys in my purse right here.” With her heel, she tapped her shoulder-bag beneath her seat. “He just needs to sleep it off. I suppose he had too much to drink.”
Doc snorted. “Yep. I suppose you’re right.”
Edith glanced up to see Eddie and Shelly crossing the little bridge from the front of the property—they must have crossed paths with Donny, but Eddie didn’t look upset. They made a lazy beeline to her side, though, and Eddie brought a chair around for Shelly, and one for himself, too.
“I just ran into Donny,” Eddie stated, matter-of-factly. “He’s going to get some rest. I’ll walk you home tonight, Mom. Make sure he’s feeling better.”
“I’ll walk Edith home,” Doc stated, winking at Shelly. “You make sure Ms. Little gets home in one piece, Eddie.” Edith smiled when she thought she saw Eddie’s face flush a little.
She liked the girl from Space #8. She remembered Shelly’s father, but not her mother. He was a hard man, always scowling. Edith often greeted folks as they came to the row of mailboxes that lined up at the edge of her lot, but Mr. Little usually only responded with a grunt, if at all. It made her feel like he thought she was spying on him rather than simply being neighborly. It got to the point where she slipped inside if she saw him coming, just so she wouldn’t feel compelled to acknowledge him. She seldom saw Shelly at all during the years her father was alive, and when she did, she looked like his limp shadow, head down, hair falling forward around her features, never quite beside him, never quite falling behind. Since the man passed away, Shelly had become even more invisible; she remembered Eddie telling her years ago that the girl worked nights and slept during the day. Kathy called her the Cat Lady, but then, everyone else called Kathy the Dog Lady.
So for Shelly to be so lovely, soft-spoken, and pleasant was a complete surprise to Edith. Granted, she could tell that the girl was trying very hard to be sociable, but it was clear she wanted to fit in, to get to know the others in her neighborhood, and she was doing a fine job of it.
As though in response to the thoughts in Edith’s head, Shelly swallowed the last bite of her cake and sighed deeply. “I don’t think I’ve been to a cookout since I was a little girl,” she said. “But since changing my work schedule to days, everything is different.” The color rose in her cheeks when she glanced in Eddie’s direction, and Edith sent up a little prayer that her big boy would open his eyes and see the potential in this girl. He needed someone in his life, and Shelly seemed like a perfect fit.
Doc grinned at the girl. “I’ll say. You look like a million bucks, Ms. Shelly Little. If I’d run into you on the streets, I wouldn’t have recognized you from the little mouse I knew at the beginning of the year.”
Shelly giggled. “If you’d run into me on the streets, there may not be much of me left to recognize.” Then she grimaced, bringing a hand up to cover her mouth. “Oh, dear. That was a morbid thought, wasn’t it?”
But the men laughed, and Edith could tell they were enjoying watching her blossom in their company.
~ ~ ~ ~
Chapter 7
Donny had fallen asleep, crashed on the couch, the television blaring ESPN highlights. When he awoke, the sun was just starting to fade away, and he was hot, sweaty, and absolutely parched. At the back of the vegetable drawer in the frid
ge, he found just what he needed; Sheena’s peppermint Schnapps. She loved this stuff and he always kept a bottle chilled on the off-chance she might show up and want to talk. Any conversation that started with Schnapps always ended well for him.
Today, however, with his beer still over at Willow’s, and Sheena still not answering her phone, and nothing to drink in the fridge but milk and Ma’s prune juice, he’d just have to make do with what he had. Making his way out to the front porch, bottle in one hand, a bag of potato chips in the other, he dropped into a flimsy beach lounger that faced the back of the Coach House property where they’d be setting off the fireworks. The row of trees that grew naturally along the stream blocked his view to the party still going on just the other side, but through the break in the brush where the bridge crossed over the water, he had a good shot out toward the field. He’d be able to see the majority of the fireworks without having to play nice with the others. Besides, he could hear the rise and fall of conversation interspersed with laughter, a few hoots and hollers over something said or done, and the distinctive sound of Willow’s laugh, especially, made him momentarily glad he was way over here. If he was going to take her on, he’d have to figure out a way to knock that thing down a notch or two.
As the first of the bottle rockets shot into the air, Donny felt a keen desire to join the boys in their play. They really were having a good time over there, but he knew he wasn’t welcome, and it made him angry. Who could fault him for staring at that redheaded vixen? She was drop-dead gorgeous, and there was something wild and untamed about her that drew a man’s eyes, and pulled at something deep in his gut. Had he really been so out of line? He’d seen the way Eddie stared at her. Hey; he’d seen Doc ogling her, too. Even Ivan, with his leanings, seemed drawn to her side repeatedly throughout the afternoon. So what was wrong with him showing his appreciation for her, too?
Elderberry Croft: Volume 3 Page 3