Another Hour to Kill

by Anita Higman

  Joby went quiet for a while as if she were mulling over my words. “That sounds kinda like the corny junk you read on greetings cards.” She looked up at me. “But since I don’t think you say stuff like that all the time, I sort of believe you.”

  I smiled. It was hard to be offended, since what she said was true.

  “I guess I better go now.” Joby slipped out of the SUV, rubbed her arms, and waved goodbye. I realized she wasn’t wearing a sweater. I wondered if anyone had even bought a jacket or sweater for her. I sighed, shaking my head.

  I waited until she’d gone inside, and then drummed my fingers on the steering wheel, thinking about her foster parents. Had they made a clean and safe place for her to be? A place where she was loved? I had no idea, but not knowing was becoming more and more worrisome.

  After sending up a prayer for Joby, I drove home. Was adoption a possibility? Now those thoughts truly were alien to my brain. If Max and I chose to have children, we would be having our own babies. So, how would Joby fit into that picture? Could it work? I’d never pursued thoughts like these in my life. Never felt that way toward any child. Or cared so much. Joby had gotten to me. Big time. And I knew she’d planned it that way.

  Instead of pulling in my driveway toward the garage, I pulled in front of my house, cut the engine, and just stared up at Volstead Manor. What a place. Certainly lots of room for a big family.

  I shook my head, certain I’d become a first-class fool. You’re not the mothering type. Or were all women born with the gift, and then when the time was right, it surfaced and bloomed like a long-awaited flower? Humph. Now that did sound like a greeting card.

  Warm tears streamed down my face, uninvited. The excess emotion felt awkward. I didn’t much like it, but I knew what the outburst was really about. My heart ached with the thought of it. When Joby had brought up the idea of doing something bad, there was a chance she meant to say something else. When she asked if Vlad would still be too sad about his stepbrother to go to a party, there’d been something in Joby’s eyes—something that looked like guilt.

  I squeezed the steering wheel until my knuckles turned white. Joby had been watching me, testing me. I’d felt it. And I suppose I’d failed her test, and so she’d taken a different road, lying about wanting to steal a present for me when really she may have been worried about something far worse.

  What if my original fear about Joby had been correct? That Joby had snuck into B.J.’s house, scared him—not knowing about his heart—and then when B.J. started to look as if he were dying, she fled in fear. Or worse, maybe she’d hoped he would die. Even planned it that way. God, please don’t let it be true. I love Joby, and want everything to be okay.

  The tears came even faster now. Big salty slobbery tears. The kind I never used to indulge in. I shook my head. Everything within me had wanted to ask Joby my question so we could clear the air. But I had been afraid to ask, since there was a chance she was guilty. Would I then be obligated to speak to her foster parents? Would she be taken to court or far away to juvenile detention? What would become of her?

  I pulled some tissues out of the glove box and blew my nose. God, why does life always have to be so messy? Can’t we have anything simple and smooth down here?

  “Are you all right?” a voice said just outside my window.

  Dark eyes bore into me. I screamed. When I could calm myself, I realized it was my neighbor, Vlad Tepes. What could he possibly want from me now? My checkbook? My house? And how could I ever question Joby’s innocence when a man liked Vlad roamed the neighborhood?

  “I’m sorry I scared you.” His breath steamed up the window on my SUV.

  “You shouldn’t sneak up on people like that.” I started to add that it could give somebody a heart attack, but I realized that was too close to the truth. And upsetting guilty people without the police nearby was asking for trouble. I needed to play it cool.

  I let the window roll down before Vlad’s knuckles could rap on the glass. Hopefully, he hadn’t brought any drugs this time. I certainly wouldn’t be eating or drinking anything in his presence.

  “Are you okay?” Vlad’s eyes went all puppy-dog-like. “You looked like you were crying.”

  “I’ll be fine. I was just having a private moment here.” I kept my voice business-like.

  “I was taking a walk, and saw you there. I wanted to apologize for our first meeting. It didn’t go as well as I’d hoped.” A grin sort of smeared itself across his face. His manner was meant to be endearing, and with anyone else on the planet, the ploy would have worked. It would have been a quaint moment. But I was in no mood for cute. “Apology accepted.” Okay, he could now move on to his next victim.

  “Thank you.” Something dark passed Vlad’s expression. “By the way, my backyard fence is in bad repair, and I’ve heard that the alligators have been floating in from the heavy rains. As you know, that bayou runs right behind my house.”

  “Yes, that’s true.” What could that possibly have to do with me?

  Vlad crossed his arms over his black cashmere sweater. “Well, I’m not sure what to do about it.” He shuffled his feet. “You see since we were children, B.J. and I both suffered with batrachophobia. Phobia of reptiles to be exact. It’s embarrassing to talk about.”

  “Why?” My question snapped like a rubber band, but I just didn’t feel like coddling Vlad.

  “Well, I’m a man.” He grinned at me.

  Didn’t like his grin either.

  “Men aren’t supposed to have irrational fears,” he added, tightening the red scarf around his neck.

  He was trying to trick me somehow—to weasel his way back into my house. “Everyone has fears whether they want to admit them or not.”

  Vlad just stared at me.

  In fact, he made no move to go away. Maybe he expected me to discuss his phobia. So be it, if that would make him leave. “What happened to you?” I asked. “That you’re so afraid of alligators?”

  A shadow passed over Vlad’s expression as if he were conjuring up a legion of nightmares. “Well, when B.J. and I were kids, one time we ventured too far from home. We found this bayou and as we walked along the bank, we came across an angry alligator.”

  “Did you threaten or frighten it in some way?”

  “Absolutely not.” He arched an eyebrow. “Innocence is ashamed of nothing—Rousseau.” He looked directly into my eyes. “And I am unashamed.”

  I imagined that little quote from a dead guy was to assure me of his innocence. But I still didn’t know for certain if we were talking about alligators or something else. “Okay.”

  “The alligator pursued us, and we barely escaped. So, because of that encounter, a healthy fear turned into something more.”

  Vlad seemed to show few physical signs of lying. Maybe a few twinges of insanity, but no untruthfulness. Who knew, maybe the man really was telling the truth. However, couldn’t pathological liars bypass the gestures that could expose dishonesty? “Yes, that confrontation would be hard to forget,” I finally said.

  “In fact, well. . .” Vlad winced. “I’ve worried that Buford, I mean, B.J., died because he happened upon an alligator in the backyard. His heart wouldn’t have taken it. B.J. had a weak heart, just as I do.” He leaned closer to the window. “So, I really need to get my fence repaired. And I was hoping you could give me the name of your contractor. The one who’s been doing all that work on your house. If you don’t mind.”

  “His name is Woody G. I’m sure he can help you.” I gave Vlad the number.

  “Thank you.” He splayed his fingers over his heart. “Good evening.” And then he strode toward his house. As he walked away a cloud passed over the moon, bathing us in a ghoulish light. I waited until he’d disappeared through his front door.

  Then I felt myself released from the spell Vlad seemed to cast over the whole neighborhood. My hands trembled. Why did he always do that to me? Was I losing my mind? One minute Vlad looked like pure guilt and then in the next moment, I
appeared to be the guilty party—responsible for accusing half the neighborhood of what was most likely the fault of an infernal reptile!

  Were my headaches coming back? I massaged the back of my neck and forehead. But what about Vlad and his creepy ways? Hadn’t he tainted my coffee and then snooped around my house? I no longer could separate truth from fiction. What a dangerous problem. One which usually put people away in the nut house.

  Somebody in a pickup with darkly tinted windows drove by and then did a U-turn at the dead-end. We got a lot of that—people who couldn’t read the signs. Kind of like me and life. The pickup slowed when it neared me, and then drove on. I never did like tinted windows—made me feel as though people were trying to hide something.

  By the time I’d gotten myself tucked into my house for the night, a brand new thought niggled at my brain. When Vlad spoke of his stepbrother earlier, he’d slipped and called him by another name. So, Buford was what the “B” stood for. And yet, why had Vlad acted like he didn’t want me to know his name? He’d certainly corrected himself awfully fast.

  Hoping to soften the blows of my pounding skull, I washed down a couple of aspirin. Buford. Of course. When I’d first arrived at Volstead Manor, Max had briefly mentioned a man named Buford who’d wanted to buy Volstead Manor from Granny. And if I recall, that stranger had been willing to pay tens of thousands of dollars more for the house than it was worth. Or would ever be worth. Had to be the same Buford. It was an uncommon name, and how many Bufords would be desperate to buy an old beater mansion?

  I flipped off the lights and headed upstairs to read. Hmm. So, when the Lukins sold their house next door, in record time I might add, Buford had bought it right away. He’d indeed found a way into the neighborhood after all. His logic must have been that if he couldn’t own Volstead Manor, he’d try to be next to it. But next to what? The nebulous treasure? Perhaps I should ask Max if the Buford who wanted to buy the house long ago had a scar on his chin. That would at least solidify one speculation in my watery vat of theories.

  Somehow no matter what I did, though, all roads led back to something buried in my house. I eased down onto my sympathetic mattress and massaged my temples. Funny how my life had gotten so busy, I hadn’t even been able to pursue the strange light on my library wall. But now after a pause, the idea that a convoluted beam of light could lead me anywhere seemed ludicrous. Like a dream that was real at the time, but then upon waking, seemed preposterous.

  I stared at my beta in his little fishy bowl and decided he looked hungry. I sprinkled a few flakes into the fish bowl—flakes which were instantly gobbled up—and then picked up a new mystery novel from my nightstand. The front cover read: Nowhere to be Found. Not a very inspiring title. I set the book back down. Maybe I wasn’t ready to give up the day quite yet. Magnolia came to mind.

  I slipped on some slacks and a pullover sweater, locked up, and then headed out to Magnolia’s house. Whenever life got a little too feverish, she was always like the cool cloth of kindness that could calm the most distraught spirit. Just a way about her.

  Something dove in front of me and then disappeared. Whatever it was seemed to swoop rather than flutter. Must be bats. I chuckled. Maybe Joby was right. Escalating bat activity in Houston—but I doubted they were of the vampire variety.

  Not wanting to pass right in front of Vlad’s house, I decided not to take the sidewalk around the cul-de-sac, but instead march straight across the street over to Magnolia’s. I rang the bell, and an instant later she appeared at the door, drenched in smiles.

  “What a surprise. Just as good as my chocolate truffle pie.” Magnolia reached out and patted my cheek. “Come on in, Honey.”

  “Thanks.”

  I wiped my feet on the doormat. Before I could take another breath or had time to summon another worry, Magnolia’s voluminous body pulled me into that warm and wonderful world she called a hug. Her house robe smelled of baby powder and cinnamon. It seemed God had given some people extra gifts, and beyond Magnolia’s baking, her hugs were legendary. Dedra always said Magnolia could cure anything with one of her hugs. I hoped she was right.

  “Come sit down in the kitchen. I’ve got Dedra in here too. We’ll have ourselves a little gabfest.” She chuckled.

  I followed Magnolia to the kitchen, wondering if Dedra was having some kind of trouble in her life too, and if that trouble had the name of Ozzie Keebly. “Hi,” I said to Dedra when I saw her. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

  “No, not at all. I’m glad you came over. We were just discussing love and men.”

  “Oh dear. Is it safe in here?” I raised my eyebrows.

  Dedra and Magnolia chuckled.

  I leaned down to Dedra, and we gave each other a touching heads kind of embrace. I could tell she’d been in her studio, since I could smell the faintest hint of turpentine on her clothes. It did feel good to have friends again. The moment warmed me in places deep in my heart—places I thought could no longer be reached.

  I eased onto one of the chairs around the kitchen table while Magnolia busied herself humming a hymn and pulling a pie off a nearby cooling rack. Her kitchen, as well as her house, was decorated in all things welcoming. She didn’t give a flying fig for matching or coordinating anything. And just like Magnolia’s own life-scheme, her overall plan was all about love and laughter. And worship. She always said that her best worship and gift back to Him was pie-baking.

  “Ohhh. And I have fresh mincemeat.” Magnolia set a deep dish pie in front of me. The aroma was tangy, and well, different. I tried not to wince at the thought of roast beef in a pie. “Does it really have meat in it?”

  “Mercy, you should see your eyes. You look plum terrified.” She laughed as she pulled off her oven mitts. “No meat. I promise. But it’s got currents and cloves and lots of sweet apples. You’re going to want three pieces.”

  “Okay. You talked me into it.” I reached back and grabbed a fork out of a kitchen drawer while Magnolia cut me a slice. She never looked so happy but when she was serving up somebody a piece of whatever had just come out of her oven. Since the moment wasn’t the best time for a private chat with Magnolia, I decided to make an announcement. Surely it was a good time to ask Magnolia and Dedra to be in my wedding. The perfect time. I could just imagine the misty joy in Magnolia’s eyes when I’d ask her to sit in for my family at the wedding, and Dedra’s gushing excitement when I insisted she be my maid of honor.

  Magnolia set the slice of pie in front of me, and I took a tentative bite, smiling with my secret. “This is very good. Sweet. Spicy. And robust, like eating a meal in a pie.”

  “And here’s some strong earl gray tea to wash it down with.” Magnolia poured me a steaming mug of brew.

  I took another bite of the pie, a big one this time, and grinned with my two cheeks fuller than was polite.

  “I knew you’d like it.” Magnolia eased herself down at the table, looking satisfied. “Now let Earl wash it on down. Mm, mm, mm. Nothing better on the palate.”

  I obeyed Magnolia, and she was right. The flavor combo was unexpectedly scrumptious.

  I glanced at Dedra. “Don’t you want some pie?”

  “I already ate the last of the other pie.” Dedra rubbed her stomach. “I’m way too full.”

  I wiped the gooey filling off my mouth with a napkin. Then I noticed what I hadn’t seen before. Dedra’s eyes were red-rimmed as if she’d been crying, and her velvet overalls looked rumpled. “Are you all right?” I asked before I could censor myself.

  “Not totally. I just lost my fifth boyfriend this year.” Dedra rolled her eyes. “I guess I go through them like tissues.”

  Oh dear. “You mean, Ozzie?”

  Dedra nodded. “Yeah. He came over to my house a little while ago and told me he needed some space. He said he’d found someone else.”

  I wondered if my swallowing could be heard. It had to be loud. A guilty swallow. And yet what could I have done wrong, except tell Ozzie to leave me alone. And to
leave Dedra alone. Oh, my. I had caused the mess. And yet what kind of a person would leave a friend in such a bizarre relationship?

  “I think he wasn’t right for you.” I crossed my arms on the table, and looked at her intently. “You deserve someone so much finer than Ozzie.”

  “You may be right.” Dedra’s faint smile waned. “He was already taking me for granted, and we hadn’t even had time to learn what each other’s favorite movies were or our favorite ice creams. I guess if I ever make it that far with a guy, I’ll know it was meant to last.”

  Magnolia made no reply to Dedra’s remarks, but just held her hand.

  “Be grateful for Max,” Dedra said to me. “He’s a good man, and he really loves you.”

  I simply nodded, not knowing what to say. Any comment on my part would seem like bragging. And as far as timing, it no longer seemed to be the best moment to ask Dedra and Magnolia to be in my wedding.

  Dedra took a sip of her tea. “You know, all these men troubles I keep having. . .it would be so much harder to deal with if I didn’t have friends.” She looked at us and smiled.

  “That is God’s own truth. He wanted us to help each other.” Magnolia gave Dedra’s hand a pat.

  “You know what? I’m going to try to be a better judge of character in the future.” Dedra took in a deep breath. “And I hope you don’t think I’m too silly, but I’d like to tell you both what’s happened that has made this whole thing with Ozzie bearable. Otherwise I’d really be a basket case.”

  “What is it?” Magnolia’s chair squeaked as she leaned toward Dedra with interest.

  Dedra paused, pursing her lips.

  Whatever it was that put a smile back on Dedra’s face, I was grateful. “You mean you’re not going to tell us after that big production?”

  Dedra leaned back in her chair and shrugged. “Okay, I’ll tell you.” She looked back and forth at us. “It’s Vlad Tepes. Right after Ozzie left, Vlad dropped by and asked me out. And I said yes.” Her fingers gripped the table. “He’s so charming and handsome.” Then Dedra turned to me. “By the way, I hope it’s all right, but I’ve asked Vlad to escort me to your wedding.”