by Grace Greene
She put the car back into drive and moved forward. Her heart felt heavy. Her peace of mind, her growing comfort here at the homeplace, kept being eroded as it was trying to grow. Trent. Her own fears. It all took potshots at her confidence. She had some thinking to do unless she intended to continue as a victim—a willing victim who always seemed to volunteer to be pushed this way and that by others.
After breakfast, she called O’Toole & Sons in Martinsville. It was the last engineering firm that had hired Trent, and it was the job for which they’d made that hasty move from Arizona to Martinsville because it was going to be the opportunity he deserved, that he’d been looking for in each job he’d ever had, and that always failed to materialize. While the phone was ringing, Honey made the “out” noise at the door, and Sandra opened it for her, saying, “Don’t go far.”
A woman answered the phone. Sandra asked for Trent. The woman said he didn’t work there.
“Oh,” Sandra said, her heart sinking. “Are you sure he’s not there?”
“Definitely.”
She played dumb. “Do you know how I can contact him?”
“No, ma’am.”
“Perhaps his new employer?”
“No. Sorry. We couldn’t share that information anyway. I have to go now. I have another call coming through.”
“I understand, thanks.”
They hung up. Honey was back at the door, and Sandra let her inside.
Trent was out of work—whether voluntarily or not didn’t matter. Apparently, she was now Trent’s job.
After their first divorce, when he was chasing after her again, trying to convince her to come back, he’d said she was his good luck. She was his reason for getting up in the morning and living each day. She’d thought it was romantic hyperbole, but it did make her heart go all warm. He apologized, saying he’d taken things too far and that he would try harder to be a good husband and friend. The friends she still had at that time thought it was sweet. Most said, “Give him another try.” But there was one who said, “Your chemistry is bad. You two don’t do well together. Good intentions or not, it’s bound to go bad.” That last voice had been Tammy’s. Sandra wished she could call her now, but Tammy had died soon after that, unexpectedly and much too young, when her brakes failed and her car hit a tree.
Seeing and being reminded of how uncontrollable, how unpredictable, life could be had steered her back in Trent’s direction.
Sandra was living in her parents’ home and going from temp job to temp job, feeling like a constant disappointment and failure. She thought her dad had had it with her, as he didn’t seem to want to hear or understand her worries. But that was before the dementia had progressed to the point that they understood something bad was happening to him. She was seeking constancy and security, even to the point of blinding herself to the truth. And to be wanted—and Trent had wanted her.
It made her sad. Standing here in her aunt’s home, surrounded by family stuff if not by family, and with a dog who wasn’t hers but who felt like hers, she was nearly overwhelmed by mixed feelings but mostly good feelings. She grieved for the girl who thought she was chasing love and hadn’t understood she was settling for far less than she deserved.
Sandra left Honey shut up in the house. Honey looked bemused, as if she knew she should go along, but Sandra scratched her head and said she’d be back soon.
“Watch out for the house, Honey,” she said.
“What’s wrong?” the clerk asked at the hardware store. He tugged at the front of his work apron and touched his name badge.
She’d seen the price of the rolls of fencing wire in the H-frame and that the rolls of fencing looked an awful lot like what Colton had brought to her house. And the green stakes in the bin next to the H-frame. Not cheap, either. This project was an expensive proposition, more expensive than she could afford even if the materials were leftovers . . . and, except for the stone, the materials Colton had brought to the house didn’t seem like cast-offs.
“I was looking at the pricing.”
“Yes, ma’am. There are different types of fencing with different prices, but you’re saving on labor, right?” He looked doubtful, but that passed quickly. “You said you were looking for information on how to erect fences. Here’s the pamphlet I was talking about, and I have another idea. Let me get my pen.” He scribbled a web address on the pamphlet. “This is a really great place to check for information. Unchain Your Dog. Yes, ma’am, I was showing this to another customer the other day.”
“Unfortunately I don’t have a computer or access to the Internet.”
He looked at her like she’d grown a few extra ears on her forehead and cheeks.
“No problem. Come with me.”
They went back to the customer service desk, and he pulled up the website on their computer. He motioned her closer and turned the computer so she could see.
“This website shows you how to do it,” he said. “In fact, they have a PDF. Hang on a minute.” He opened the PDF, hit some keys, then reached below the counter and came up with some papers. He grabbed a stapler and put the finishing touch to it.
“Here you go. This should give you what you need.”
It gave her the information she needed, but what she really needed was a fatter wallet. “Thank you so much,” she said. “I really appreciate this.”
He nodded. “No problem. Glad I could help. Call me if you need anything.” He handed her his card.
She left, but all the way home she was thinking about what she should do. There was the right thing to do, the expedient thing to do, and the practical thing to do, and they were whirling in her head all the way through the grocery store, which was a quick stop. She tossed a candy bar into the basket because sometimes chocolate was essential. Then she was back in her car and feeling almost dizzy with the need to make a decision. As she arrived home, she saw a pickup parked in front of the house. A green pickup.
Colton’s truck.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Sandra went directly into the house because she had perishables, pausing long enough to shove one bag in the fridge and deposit the other on the counter, then went straight to the kitchen door. Through the glass, she saw Colton working on the fencing.
She celebrated silently, doing a little happy dance.
When she looked back out, she saw Aaron sitting in the shade concentrating on something on his laptop. He had the look a kid gets when he’s struggling with schoolwork.
Colton was wearing jeans and a T-shirt, his usual attire. He looked serious, very serious. And tanned. And fit. Sammy was napping in the shade near Aaron. In the kitchen, Honey was lying up against the door as if by being closer, she might manage to squeeze out under it. She looked up at Sandra with a hopeful expression.
“Just a moment.” When Sandra tried to open the door, Honey moved only enough to allow it to open a few inches, and then she scooted out.
Colton looked up when he heard the door. Different emotions played across his face, but nothing Sandra could read for sure. He said, “The patio looks good.”
She followed his glance. “Thank you.”
Aaron was peeking over the top of his computer, and he looked away real fast. Honey and Sammy were running around the yard and the tree. Sandra thought she would give almost anything not to disturb this scene.
But she didn’t have that choice, or at least it wasn’t her choice to make. Right was right. Convenience . . . well, sometimes it didn’t measure up to right. In the end, you paid for everything one way or the other.
Sandra walked carefully across the stone to the grass where Colton stood. “Don’t think I don’t appreciate this,” she said. “I was at the hardware store, and I saw what this fencing costs, and I saw what the stakes cost, too. Even sand costs money.”
Colton held up his hand to signal her to stop. It had taken a lot for her to say what little she had, so she was fine with stopping for the moment.
“Remember I told you I got a good deal on
the stuff? A very good deal.”
She almost quipped, “What? Did you steal it?” But she sucked those thoughts back in quickly before they were spoken aloud. Some might regard snarkiness as wit, but she didn’t think Colton would appreciate it. She didn’t believe in a million years that Colton had stolen materials from a jobsite.
“Besides, this has been an excellent project for Aaron. It’s about math skills and project planning. It’s also given him something positive to be involved in.” He nodded toward Aaron. “I would’ve paid the full cost of this project for that alone. But the fact is, I did get a good deal. A very good deal, so don’t worry about what I’ve spent. I can manage my own finances.”
“How do you feel about the other thing? What we discussed? And seeing I have a temper?” she said.
“You do. You might have been justified, too. Let’s forget what was said and move on.”
“Pretend it didn’t happen?”
“No. We both said things we needed to say. What I mean is, don’t harbor it. Let it go and save recriminations for more important stuff.”
“I like that approach, but I have to be honest. I did send signals, but I don’t have the right to, not yet. I have to deal with Trent first. I have to be free and clear of him before I can consider getting close to someone. For more than friendship, I mean.”
“I agree. I have Aaron to consider, so we’ll keep it friendly for now. But honestly, when I thought about it later, about Trent and the conversation you and I had, I realized we hardly know each other, at least in terms of calendar days. I couldn’t blame you for not telling me everything about your life.” He paused, watching her face. “And don’t forget the rest of the deal,” he added in a somber tone. “You still owe us that meal, and we have high hopes for it.”
He smiled, and her heart warmed, almost too much. Her face felt hot, too, and she turned away, seeking a distraction.
She said, “So you really think the patio is OK?”
“It looks great. Seems stable. I’ll do some finishing up around the edges, tweak it a bit, and water it down. Another thing. I was thinking we might want to expand this fenced area. It’ll be awfully hard to cut the grass otherwise. There’s not much room to maneuver a lawn mower this close to the house.”
“I guess that depends on how much wire we have.” She couldn’t help herself. “I thought you might not come back. Or if you did, that . . .”
“I’m here, so that’s that.”
Was she blushing? She thought so, but she refused to touch her cheeks. It seemed safer to move a few feet away. “I’ll go say hello to Aaron.”
Colton nodded. “He’s writing an essay. He needs to stick with it. We agreed he could do his work here if he didn’t look for excuses not to get it done.”
“Understood.”
While Sandra was saying good morning to Aaron, Honey, who’d settled onto her pillow, lifted her head to look at the woods. It reminded Sandra of last night, but since she didn’t want to get into anything that had any possibility of being connected to Trent, she didn’t choose to mention it or do more. Maybe after Colton and Aaron left, she’d take a look.
Honey stood and trotted to the edge of the woods. What was it that so fascinated her about that spot? Sammy followed. But after giving it a short stare, she moved on. The two dogs walked along the woods’ edge, heading toward the back of the yard.
Sandra held the wire while Colton hooked it on the stakes. He handed her a pair of worn work gloves.
“Put these on and pull the wire and stake toward you while I pull it this way.”
She did. The metal bit into her fingers and palms despite the gloves, but it didn’t cut the flesh.
“What am I going to do about a gate?”
“No worries.” He looked at her. “Hold that tighter.” When he was done, he said, “I have one in my truck.” He looked up at her again. “Used, of course. Got a great deal.”
“Aaron said you build all sorts of things. I’m glad that includes a dog’s garden.” That sounded better than calling it a dog’s toilet. “Barbara owes you a lot of thanks.”
“I’m not doing it for Barbara.”
He said it with such sincerity, her heart blipped.
“I’m building this for Honey,” he said.
“I’m sure Honey appreciates it.”
“And you.”
She answered with a smile, saying, “I appreciate it, too.”
He spoke in a low voice. “That wasn’t my meaning.”
She tried to appear unmoved, but inside, her heart did some sort of tap dance. She didn’t know what to say. They’d already agreed to keep this “friendly,” but she didn’t want to ignore what he was trying to communicate. She touched his arm. “Thank you.” Then she grinned. “Aunt Barbara thanks you, too. Or she will when she sees it.”
Sandra waved at the area again. “It was a garden a long time ago, but nothing useful or pretty has grown here in a long time.”
Colton disagreed. “Honey has. And she’s thriving. She deserves at least as much consideration as a squash plant or a rosebush.” After a few moments of silence, he said, “I notice you didn’t secure her to the stake today.”
“I hope I’m not making a mistake. She’s doing well staying in the yard so far, and when I’m not outside, I keep her in the house with me.”
“She’s a lucky dog.”
There it was again—the heart dance and the flushing face. She fought the urge to turn away again. Instead, she said, “If you aren’t too picky, I could rustle up a little food.”
“That would be great. Maybe that meal you promised?” He laughed. “Seriously, anything is fine and would be much appreciated.”
She fixed what she had the makings for. There was plenty for three, and it didn’t have to be defrosted. Pancakes.
Sandra woke in the night. Her arm. Someone had touched her arm.
She sat up abruptly, ready to fight and trying to remember where she’d left the knife, and then saw Honey. Sandra touched her arm. It was wet.
Honey was developing a bad habit—late-night trips outside. She’d moved away from the bed and was now standing on her hind legs at the back window. The curtains bunched and draped around her shoulders as she stood there.
Sandra eased out of bed, trying to be quiet. On tiptoe, she crossed to the window. When she moved aside the curtain to look out, Honey dropped to all fours and left. She padded out of the room and left Sandra standing there. From below, she barked. One bark. The “out, please” bark. OK. So that’s all it was. Good.
She left the window and made her way in the dark down the hall and then the stairs. All seemed well in the house. Honey was waiting at the back door.
In the dining room, the curtains at the wide patio doors were open. The night looked like a big-screen movie. The pallet was now mostly empty of stone, and the unrolled fencing had an interrupted, abandoned feel. The patio table and chairs made an odd, shadowy configuration half-concealed in the darker area under the oak tree.
Honey barked again. Sandra joined her at the kitchen door. When she opened the door, Honey was out and moving fast. Belatedly, Sandra grabbed the leash. She followed Honey outside but moved more carefully, picking her way through the patio-garden area.
What was Honey focused on? She’d done this at this same location before, standing and staring. Suddenly, Honey trotted forward, toward the woods. She disappeared into the brushy growth along the trees. Sandra was left cursing under her breath and holding the pointless leash.
Sandra stayed in the area lit by the exterior lights. Should she go back into the house or wait here where she felt exposed? She slapped her hand lightly with the leash, uncertain. She was fidgety herself, on edge, and trying to shake the feeling of being watched. It was all too strange. And what about Trent? He’d never been a woodsman. It was hard to visualize him hiding with the squirrels and snakes in the dark, but she couldn’t dismiss any possibility.
“Honey,” she called out.
; As she moved to walk back to the house, Honey came out of the woods. Sandra took the opportunity to leash her while she could, though they were so close to the house. Honey gave one last bark in the direction of the woods and then walked with Sandra back inside.
A nonevent. Nothing had happened, and yet she felt unnerved. It could be nothing . . . or anything. Or . . . It made her angry. Even here, even now, without being present, Trent managed to mess things up for her. But it was her fault for allowing it.
Maybe Colton was right. She should talk to the sheriff’s office. She should have done that already and gotten a protection order. Would the authorities be sympathetic? She’d told Trent to leave, and he had. She hadn’t seen him for several days. But in her heart, she knew it wasn’t over.
There was very little between her and the night. Ordinary household locks in wooden doorframes. Glass. So much easily breakable glass. This house wasn’t secure no matter how many latches were locked, no matter what. Not if someone really wanted to get inside.
Locks and closed windows were sufficient if the predators were possums or raccoons. Probably enough against a bear, too. But two-legged predators? Like Trent?
She wasn’t armed. The steak knife in the bedroom was mostly for show, so that she didn’t feel empty-handed. Tonight, it didn’t seem enough. Likely, her uncle’s or grandfather’s guns were stored somewhere in this house along with everything else the family had ever owned, but even if she found them, she had no idea how to use them. Could she shoot Trent anyway? For any act short of an outright physical attack?
Vigilance and her phone were her best weapons.
Sandra went upstairs and grabbed one of her mother’s blankets, took her pillow and Honey’s bed, and carried them back downstairs. She fixed her bed on the sofa and put Honey’s nearer the patio window.
She might doze, or she might not, as she kept watch. She would deal with tonight, tonight. Tomorrow, she’d figure out what to do going forward. Honey was already peacefully sleeping. Her back was toward Sandra, but Honey slept on her side, and she could see the easy rise and fall of the dog’s chest. Reassured, Sandra rested her head on her pillow and tugged the blanket up around her neck.