By GWHARGIS
| Author Notes | Miranda with all her sass and attitude is back. |
By GWHARGIS
Miranda Jessup Buckley is back and trying to rebuild her life after a tumultuous couple of years.
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Waylon has been living with me for almost two years. We've had our moments, both good and bad. But despite the hormonal mood swings and stand-offs, I really care about the kid. We can have fun together just watching a movie or when Aaron comes over and we play cards. He isn't high maintenance like some other kids.
Towards the end of last school year, I started making it a habit to take him to school one or two days a week. I still made him ride the bus the majority of the time. This gave us time a couple of mornings a week to eat a drive thru breakfast together before we went off to do our own things.
I look over at him as he leans his head on the window, mouth slack as he dozes off. He's polished off the two biscuits and Pepsi he ordered. He's coming into his own. The chubby face and bowl haircut are a distant memory. He's starting to look more like his daddy now. Good old Dougie, where oh where are you?
"Hey, wake up, Waylon. Getting ready to turn into your school."
He sits up quick, his eyes darting around to get his bearings. "Oh, yeah, thanks for the ride."
Every morning the same five faculty members are stationed along the drive thru line. Today, there is a new face. "New teacher?" I ask, as I slow up behind the car in front of me.
Waylon grimaces. "Pull past him."
"Who is he?" I ask. I can tell from the look on Waylon's face, he is not a fan of this guy.
"Just pull past him. He's just a teacher."
The man glances into our car, his expression changes. I swear it looks like he just sucked on a lemon.
"He looks friendly," I say dryly. "He not like you or something?"
"I gotta get out. Thanks for the ride." His hand is on the door handle and I'm trying to brake before he jumps out.
Waylon swings the door open and the car behind me slams on brakes. Mr. Lemonface comes stalking over. "You can't stop here. You have to go past the line. See where Mrs. Baldwin is. That's where you have to go. You almost caused an accident."
"Whoa, buddy, I thought he was getting out. Maybe if you had a sign posted or something."
Lemonface points to a three foot tall sandwich board that has in bold letters "Stop Here".
"Sorry," I mutter. I try to smile at him, diffuse the situation, if you will, but this guy has a bug in his underpants and he's hell bent on proving his point.
"If you're going to use the drop off line, learn the rules. Rules are there for a reason."
"Jesus, buddy, it was an accident and I said I was sorry. Switch to decaf, you-," I'm about to lay into him when I happen to see Waylon, standing frozen behind him. The look on his face is warning me to put the car in drive and leave. I bite the inside of my cheek and smile politely. "I'm sorry. I'll do it the right way next time."
Lemonface gloats. He has this smug smile on his face.
Part of me feels a tad sorry for him. Only because he thinks he's won. Oh no, Lemonface, you might have won the battle but you have not won the war. I roll up the window and drive away.
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Rita is kind of like my cheerleader. Every time I show up for work, she acts like she hasn't seen me in so long. Never fails, she's always upbeat and cute. Today she greets me at the door, shivering like she's cold, but I know better. She's excited about something.
"Please, Rita, let me put my stuff down and get clocked in before you start loading me up with gossip." I say, easing around her and dropping my purse in the office and coming back to the counter to clock in.
"What makes you think I have gossip?"
"You always do. You know more about what goes on in this county than anyone."
Rita blushes and smiles. "I do, don't I? But this isn't gossip. That reporter lady came looking for you. The little one that interviewed you about Missy Toblerone."
"Colleen Weaver? What did she want?"
"She left her card, said to make sure you call her as soon as you get in. She said it was of the utmost importance." Rita pulls the small white card out of her vest pocket and hands it over.
"I'll call her later. Did Matt call about the beer order. He said he wanted to bulk up for the season."
"I haven't talked to him. How come you're not curious about what the reporter wants?"
"Because she is only about the story. I'm a little tired of being in the news, Rita. Give someone else a turn."
She nods like she understands but unless you've had your privacy stepped on for the sake of a story, you can't understand. But she's smart enough not to push it. As I'm heading to the cooler, I stop and look over at her. "Rita, my little fountain of information, do you know many of the teachers at the high school?"
"Which one?"
"Patterson High."
"I have a neighbor who works there, why?"
"Because, I met someone today when I dropped Waylon off, a real prince. Just want to get a little information on him."
She shrugs. "What's his name?"
This time I shrug. "We didn't get to that part. But when I find it out, you'll be the first to know."
The phone rings and I'm about a step into the cooler when Rita calls me back. "Miranda," she says, her eyes wide like she's in shock. "It's for you."
"Matt?"
"No. It sound's like, well, it sounds like Dougie."
I feel like someone has just pushed me in front of a speeding train. It can't be him. He's been gone for months. Gone as in no trace, no one has seen him or heard from him. Dougie vanished. "Right," I say, snatching the phone from her. "Hello?"
"Hey, babe, how are you?"
All these months I have prepared speeches for this very moment. I've been angry, concerned, dismissive, and abusive in these scenarios. But right now, I'm in shock.
"What the hell? Is this a joke?"
He laughs, like he used to. "Same old Randa. How's Waylon?"
The shock is starting to wear off. The anger is starting to pulse through my veins. How dare he ask about Waylon? The kid who has faced every day wondering where his father is, if he's dead or alive. "He's fine, thanks for asking. How the hell do you think he is? He's been worried about you since you disappeared. No word from you, nothing. What is wrong with you?"
"I had to disappear for a while. I was raising that money, remember, and things got a little out of hand. It was just supposed to be for a couple of months."
"I don't care."
"Don't be mad, babe."
"Don't call me that," I snap. "As a matter of fact, don't call me at all." I slam the phone down and look up to see Rita still staring at me.
"It was him. He's not dead. Missy didn't kill him."
Dougie isn't dead. I should be happy, but I'm not. I'm afraid he's going to take Waylon. I can't lose that boy.
By GWHARGIS
So far, Miranda Jessup Buckley has been raising the son of her ex-lover, Dougie Wilcox. Dougie disappeared and while everyone suspected Missy Toblerone of having something to do with it, he has recently reappeared. Now, Miranda fears that Dougie is here to take his son back.
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My mind is spinning. Dougie is alive, and I don't know what to do. Of course, for Waylon's sake, I'm happy he is alive. But, Dougie doesn't do things for others. He does things for himself, and I have a feeling nothing has changed in that aspect. Why show up now? Why run in the first place should probably be my first question, but the timing is odd for his return.
"You should probably call Mitch," Rita says. She comes over closer to reach out and rub my arm. She's at a loss here. She has a million questions just like me, and thankfully, she has enough restraint not to ask them.
"Yeah, yeah, you're right. Do you mind watching the front while I go back to the office?"
Rita shakes her head. "Go ahead," she says. "Oh, what do I do if he calls again while you're talking to Mitch?"
I think about it for a minute. "He won't. Dougie's an ass, but he isn't stupid. He knows what I'm like when I'm pissed off."
I close the office door and with shaky fingers I dial the phone. "Sheriff Mitch Danner, please," I say when the receptionist answers.
"Who may I ask is calling?"
"Miranda Buckley."
There is a pause and the receptionist relaxes. "Oh, geez, Miranda, I didn't recognize your voice. He's on a call right now. Can I give him a message or tell him to swing by when he's done?"
I take a deep breath, trying not to lose it. "Tell him it's official business. I have some information that he needs to know about."
She clears her throat. "Okay. Hold on for a minute." She puts me on hold and some terrible music comes pulsing through the line. It's B-side seventies soft rock. I keep repeating the words "hurry up, Mitch", over and over until the music stops.
"Miranda, hey, what's up?" Mitch says.
His voice does two things. It calms me and yet, I can feel the panic bubbling to the surface. I open my mouth to tell him, but the words catch in my throat. "He's, uh, he's back."
"Miranda, what? I'm not following you. Who's back?"
I roughly swipe a tear from my cheek. "Dougie."
Mitch says nothing. I hear him exhale before he finally starts talking, "You saw him? You saw Dougie Wilcox?"
"No. He called. Here, at work."
"Maybe it wasn't him."
"Mitch, I know his voice. He was asking about Waylon. He called me Randa. He's the only one who has ever called me that."
"Can you get in touch with him? Did he give you his number?"
"No. I hung up on him. Told him not to call me again."
"Geez, I kinda of wish you hadn't done that, but I understand."
I listen while he asks more questions, like did I hear any background noises, or do I remember seeing anyone out of the ordinary hanging around the trailer park or the Little Eagle. I try to draw my strength from his voice. "He's coming for Waylon, Mitch. I know he is. What the hell am I going to do?"
"He abandoned the kid. He doesn't deserve him, but legally, you only have temporary custody. He's the biological parent. Push comes to shove, the court is going to grant custody to him. I'm sorry, Miranda, I know that's not what you want to hear, but I don't want to lie to you and fill you full of false hope."
I sniff back my running nose and swipe at my eyes again. "I know. I've got to figure something out. I'm not gonna just lay down and roll over. If Dougie does push for Waylon, he's gonna have a fight on his hands. That's for sure."
"Atta girl. Now, what are you gonna tell Waylon?"
My heart sinks. I know I've got to tell him. But, he's gonna have a million questions, and I don't have any answers.
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When I come out, Rita looks at me. She can tell I've been crying. "What did Mitch say?"
"Things that I didn't want to hear. The truth. That Dougie has every right to take Waylon. And there isn't a damn thing I can do to stop it."
"Oh, Miranda, I'm sorry. Maybe he didn't come here for that. Maybe he came back for you. He called you babe, and well, maybe he isn't over you."
"He was never in love with me, Rita. You don't treat people you love like they are inconveniences. You treat them with respect. Dougie is a user. I just need to figure out why he's shown up again. If I thought it was about missing his son, I could deal with it. But, I don't trust him. Dougie Wilcox is back for something. I just need to figure out what that is."
Rita answers the phone, never taking her eyes off of me. "Little Eagle, this is Rita, how can I help you?" She starts nodding her head and a smile breaks her intense look. "Hold on, she's right here."
"Dougie?"
She shakes her head. "Ms. Weaver from the Patterson Gazette," she whispers.
I roll my eyes. Knowing Colleen and her nose for news, she already knows Dougie is back. Probably calling for an exclusive on the impending custody battle. "Colleen, long time no hear. Slow news day?"
"Miranda. There is always news. I was just wondering what your schedule is for this week."
"My schedule? If I give it to you, can you promise me I'll make the front page?" I say sarcastically.
"I might drop by one day."
I wince. She is like a robot. There is nothing above the surface and nothing below. "Stop by?"
"Yes. Visit you at the Little Eagle. So, what days are you there?"
"Uh, I have Saturday and Thursday off. Can I ask why, for shits and giggles, you want to come see me here?"
She makes this odd little noise with her throat and then in her professional way, brushes my question aside. "So, Friday, I'll see you. Is that agreeable with you?"
"I guess. But can you give me a heads up as to the purpose of this visit?"
"I'm not at liberty to say," she says crisply.
I stand there holding the dead receiver in my hand.
Rita frowns. "What was that all about?"
"I have no idea."
I look at the clock behind the counter. I have the rest of the day to let this whirlwind roll around in my head. I could use a drink, but it'll be a long time before I can satisfy that urge.
By GWHARGIS
So far, Miranda Jessup Buckley, is raising the child of her ex-lover. Now, the boy's father is back, and Miranda fears he returned for the boy.
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I make it through my shift without losing it on any customers or crying like a baby as my imagination works overtime. By the time I drive home, I have practiced what I'm going to say to Waylon about Dougie. My headlights flash over Waylon and Aaron who are sitting on the porch as I pull into my yard.
I can do this, I think as I exit my car and start walking towards the porch. "Hey, guys," I say. "Y'all been sitting out here all night?"
"For a while now," Aaron says, smiling like guy who has no problems and is perpetually high most of the time. "You want a beer?"
I do, boy do I ever want one, but I shake my head no. I have to have a clear head when I talk to Waylon. I look over at Waylon. "Homework all done?"
"Most of it. I still have some stuff for my marine biology class. Mr. Tomlin was pissed off after," he says, then suddenly stops and looks at his feet.
I feel like I'm missing something. "Pissed off after what?"
"Nothing."
"Waylon, was Tomlin the guy in the drive thru line this morning?"
"Yes. He hates me. Has since the first day of class. He just used it as an excuse to be a dick."
I try to swallow the irritation I feel when I think about the sour look on that guys face. "Maybe Mr. Tomlin and I should have a little talk soon."
Waylon holds up his hands. "No! Please don't. That will just make things worse."
"Teachers can be bullies. It's best to address it now."
He winces slightly and then turns to Aaron. The look on Aaron's face tells Waylon he's on his own. "It's not that I don't appreciate the offer, but you sometimes come across like you're going to beat someone up if they don't do what you want them to do. Right, Aaron?" he says, trying to draw Aaron in again.
"That's cause she's bad ass," Aaron says, laughing at his misplaced compliment. "She's the queen of bad ass."
Any other night I could handle Aaron, but tonight is a big no. I stomp my foot and point across to his trailer. "Good night, Aaron. See you later."
'Night, Waylon," he giggles. "Good night, Queen."
I roll my eyes and tap Waylon to go inside. "Aw, we were having a deep conversation, Miranda." Waylon stands there pouting like a little boy as I send his best friend home.
"A well is deep, the ocean is deep. A conversation with a guy who is high as a kite is a waste of time."
He tugs open the door and holds it long enough for me to sneak through. "You're in a bad mood. Did you and the lawman break up?"
I ignore his barbed comment and set my bag down on the table. "Sit down, Waylon, we need to talk."
"I only have Tomlin for one semester. It's no big deal."
I nod, trying to push the lemon faced jerk out of my mind. I just need to come out and tell him about Dougie. I remember when I had to break it to him that his father had chosen to leave him with me. We had no relationship at all. Thinking back, I didn't care if he liked staying with me or not. I do care now. Waylon might not be mine biologically, but he's become mine.
"I'll let it go with Tomlin, but you have to swear that you'll tell me if he keeps on bullying you. Then, and only then will I threaten to beat him up," I throw in that little joke to lighten things up. "Okay?"
Finally, a smile creeps to his face. "Okay."
He reaches for the remote, and I take it out of his hands.
"We need to talk." I set the remote on the coffee table and watch as he frowns.
"We've been talking."
"It's about your dad, Waylon."
His face darkens. His shoulders tighten up and he looks at the floor. "They found his body, didn't they? Was it in the swamp? You and I both told them to look there."
"Waylon, no, no. Nothing like that. Your dad is alive. He called me."
He pulls his phone out of his pocket, and I see him looking for missed calls. There won't be any. Dougie wouldn't call his own son. No, he's going to leave it to me to break the news. "Is he okay?"
"Sounded fine. I don't know any more than that. He asked about you. That was the main purpose of the call. Checking on you."
"Where has he been? It's been almost two years. Where was he all this time?"
I shake my head. "I don't know. He didn't tell me that."
Waylon doesn't know whether to cry or laugh. He keeps looking at his phone, probably willing it to ring and be his father on the other end. "Is he going to come see me?"
"I don't know." I hate saying that to him. The boy has been living a nightmare for so long and now I have to watch the agony rekindled by the fact that I don't know if Dougie will even reach out to him. "But, at least, we know he's alive."
"But, where was he? Where has he been all this time, Miranda?" He looks over at me, and I hate what I see in his eyes. He knows that Dougie left by choice. He left us behind because it was convenient.
And, I wonder if that hurts worse than thinking he's dead.
By GWHARGIS
So far, Miranda has been raising the son of her ex-lover. Ever since Dougie disappeared, she's treated Waylon as her own. Now, Dougie has called. Is he coming back for Waylon?
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I tossed and turned all night, and when I can see the pale pink of the sunrise peeking through the blinds in my bedroom I climb out of bed. I let the cool water of the shower wash off the crust of fatigue then pad into the kitchen for some strong coffee.
Waylon is still sleeping, curled up in a tight ball, the thin blanket I gave him for Christmas last year gripped tightly in his hands. I tiptoe over to where his phone is plugged in. No, I'm not going to go snooping through his phone, but I am going to check to see if his father has texted. I tap the screen the way I've seen him do to bring it to life. There are no symbols or notifications showing. Of course, Dougie wouldn't call or text. Why would he? He probably knows that Waylon would demand an explanation, or at the very least, an apology. I step away from the phone and start to brew my coffee. It's going to be a long day. Not just for me, but for Waylon too.
When he wakes up, I offer to give him a ride to school but he says the bus ride will give him think time. I wonder if he's afraid I'll lock horns with that teacher, Mr. Tomlin. I don't know what it is, but I become Mama Bear where that kid is involved.
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Rita finishes her lunch and goes out to check the trash cans in the parking lot. I usually do the outside stuff, but she noticed the bags under my eyes and told me to sit behind the counter and relax.
"How bad was it?" I ask as she comes in and heads for the ladies' room to wash her hands.
"Not terrible. I thought about taking a bucket of water out there and cleaning the pumps off. There are bug guts and dirt all over them."
"Don't. If Matt catches wind of this, he might make us do it all the time," I say, half joking.
"Okay. You don't have to twist my arm."
It's pretty dead in the store and after we sweep, clean the glass on the doors and restock the drink machine, Rita tells me to go to lunch. I walk back to the office, pull out my peanut butter and jelly sandwich, and pop the lid on my diet cola. I sink into Matt's over sized office chair. I watch the screens out of boredom.
I turn to toss my lunch trash into the trash when I see two women walking towards the store. Now, it's not odd that people are walking to the store, we have a few neighborhood kids who walk here all the time. What makes this weird is that they look suspicious. Two geriatric women with gray hair and cardigans on look to be up to something. They walk into the store and one heads to the back to the drink coolers and the other heads to where Rita is behind the counter. Rita starts talking to the woman. The woman points to something either at the front of the store or just outside of the store and Rita jumps up, follows the one lady out. I check the screens that show the parking lot. Nothing.
I'm just about to leave the office and go see what has their attention, but I see some movement on the screen. Lady number two, standing in the aisle where the wine is. She looks left, then right. She doesn't look at the camera, just around. She picks up a bottle of wine and slips it down her shirt. Then she picks another one and slips it in the other side.
Oh, no, no, no, not on my watch, grandma. I quietly open the office door and make my way over to where she is adjusting her bra straps. I hear the soft slosh of the liquid in her bottled boobs.
"Lactating?" I ask, slipping up behind her.
She jumps and I hear the glass clink in her shirt. "Where did you come from?" she asks.
"You looked like you needed some help. I just came to see if you needed some advice on your selection."
She smiles, a little more relaxed. She smiles like she's gotten away with her caper. "No, I don't see what I usually drink. But thank you." Her arms fold protectively across her. She lets out a little gasp as the glass hits her skin. The store is pretty cold so I'm sure the glass is chilled.
"I love your shirt," I say. "Where did you get it?"
"Don't remember. Look, I need to go." Impatiently, she inches towards the door. "I'll just be going now," she says.
"Oh, okay. You have a nice day." I say, but stay planted squarely in her path.
The door chimes and Rita calls my name. "Miranda, a lady said there was a suspicious character out by the dumpster."
I smile at the woman. "What a coincidence? I seem to have a suspicious character here as well."
Smuggles the wine thief's eyes go wide. She looks past me to the door, like she thinks she can make it out of the store.
I put my hands on my hips and smile knowingly at her. "You can try."
"Call 911! My heart, I think I'm having a heart attack."
If I thought she was serious, I would have called, but this was a desperate person grasping at straws. She looks at Rita.
"Should I call?" Rita asks, picking up the phone. When I shake my head, she replaces the receiver. "Uh, Miranda, what's going on?"
"Just a misunderstanding, Rita. I'm going to escort this nice lady to the office where we are going to straighten this out. Oh, Rita, will you ask that other nice lady to join us?"
The confused look on Rita's face is matched only by the shoplifter's incredulous look. "I know my rights."
"Well, we can always call the police, if that will make you more comfortable. Rita call the sheriff's office and ask him to send someone over." I wait, watching the incredulous look turn to one of panic.
"No, I'll go to the office with you."
I put my hand on her shoulder and she shrugs it off, sending one of the bottles out of the bottom of her shirt. It crashes on the floor, sending wine and glass as far as the eye can see.
"Damn, boobs aren't what they used to be. Pity."
As I lead her into the office, I hear Rita gasp, "What the hell is going on?"
By GWHARGIS
So far, Miranda is raising the son of her ex-lover. Now that Dougie has returned, will he try to take Waylon back, or is he here for something else? Miranda catches two older women shoplifting from the Little Eagle.
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The lady, who had lured Rita out to the parking lot, reminds me of my mother. Of course she was a lot older, but she has the same eyes and keeps looking towards the office door like she is expecting someone to pop out and tell her she's on Candid Camera.
"Look, we'll pay for the busted wine bottle," the lady says. She casts a look at the Cabernet soaked legs of her friend. "What made you think putting that bottle down our shirt was a good idea? You aren't even wearing a bra, Brenda. Christ's sake, this was supposed to be easy."
Brenda, aka Smuggles the Wine Thief, cocks her eyebrow. "Of course, you'd think it was easy. All you had to do was get the attention of the employee. I'm the one who had to sully their hands and do the actual crime. Now, this one," she says, hooking her thumb in my direction, "she's gonna call the cops and I'm gonna be looking at hard time. I don't look good in orange, Alice. Not at all."
Alice, pulls out her wallet, makes a slow and deliberate practice of counting out her ones and fives. "How much?"
"That bottle was twenty-three."
"I'll give you twenty-five, and then we'll be on our way," Alice says, dropping the singles on the office desk. "Sorry about the misunderstanding." She stands and motions for Brenda to rise as well.
I stick out my foot and kick the door shut. "Not so fast, Alice. Sit."
She makes a sour face as she glances at the diamond watch on her liver spotted wrist. "We need to be going."
"Why? Robbing the bank at two?"
Brenda looks down, her fleshy face turning pink and her plump bottom lip quivering. "I don't want to go to jail," she cries, not yells, no, she's actually crying. If it had been Alice I would have suspected crocodile tears, but Brenda is sobbing.
I roll my eyes. I feel bad now. I wanted to make Alice cry, not Brenda. Brenda is a novice. She was acting all big and tough but at the first mention of the cops, she caved. Alice, she's a shark. I understand Alice. She would rather die than act afraid. I don't like her, but I respect her.
"See what you did, Alice," I say, waving my hand at Brenda, who's so worked up now, she sounds like a donkey.
"What I did!?!"
I nod. "Yes. You sent this innocent woman in here to steal a bottle of wine, when you clearly had the money to pay for it."
Alice smiles, like a woman who has a nice juicy secret. "The money was for a surprise I had planned for Brenda's birthday."
At the mention of this, Brenda looks up, red eyed and still sniffing. "You planned a surprise for my birthday?"
"Yes. We needed the wine to loosen you up. I know how nervous you get in certain situations."
Brenda dabs her eyes with a tissue I offer her. "It's true. I'm quite shy."
I lean against the door frame. Now, I've got to know what the surprise is, or if this a cunning attempt to get away with the crime. "So, Alice, what was the surprise?" I ask.
"Strippers. I hired two guys from the university to strip for us. Twenty bucks each."
I think about the kind of guys you could hire for twenty dollars and Farley's face comes floating to the front of my mind. No thank you. "You gave them twenty dollars, and you trust them to show up?" I said.
Alice casts a look my way that shows how dumb she thinks I am. "No. Only an idiot would give them the money up front. Do I look like an idiot to you?" she says. "I showed them the money, told them the address and said they could earn it."
I'm gonna be honest, Alice suddenly has best friend potential. I'm gonna hand it to her, she isn't stupid, reckless maybe, but not stupid. But, I can't let her think she's gotten away with this. "Alice, if I call the sheriff, your friend, Brenda, will be carted off to face charges. You will be an accessory to the crime. Now, I don't want to do that, but I have yet to hear you say you're sorry. If anything, you are acting like I'm keeping you from going about your day, so I'm going to give you a choice."
Alice presses her palms together and heaves a deep sigh before answering, "Whenever someone tells you they are giving you a choice, they really aren't. But for shits and giggles, what is my choice?"
"Apologize, to me, Rita, and then to Brenda. Pay for the wine that was broken. Then help me clean up the mess. Brenda, you apologize and swear on your children's lives that you will never do something this stupid and asinine ever again. And, Brenda, one more thing, you will never leave the house without a bra again. Those girls need the support."
Both women nod in agreement. When Brenda goes to stand, the other wine bottle shoots out from the bottom of her shirt and I practically dive to catch it.
"Good save," Alice says, dryly.
Thirty minutes later, both women are walking out the front door. Rita shakes her head. "Why didn't you call the police?"
I put my arm around her shoulders and smile. "Because, in about thirty years, that is us."
By GWHARGIS
So far, Miranda is raising Waylon, the son of her ex-lover. Since Dougie disappeared, Miranda has had temporary custody, but suddenly Dougie is back. She is afraid that he is here to take his son, Waylon back. She catches two shoplifters in the Little Eagle and decides to handle things with out involving the law.
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I mop the floors twice more after Brenda and Alice leave. Brenda kept apologizing and would randomly start tearing up while she cleaned. Alice didn't do much cleaning at all. She wrinkled her nose at the whole process and would utter, "It looks like you've got it all," every time I stuck the mop back in the bucket. Alice didn't know the first thing about housekeeping, and by the look of her watch and gaudy rings on her fingers, I would put money on the fact that she had a maid for most of her life.
I roll the bucket out back and tip it to let the dirty water out. The sheriff's car slowly comes around the corner. Mitch waves and turns on his lights. "You there, drop your weapon," he calls over the speaker.
"Isn't that abuse of power?" I ask as he rolls up beside me.
He has the window down and lowers his mirror sunglasses to look at me. "Sorry, I thought you had a weapon. Honest mistake." He turns off the car and gets out. "How's your day been?"
I think about the morning. Crazy would be the right description but it actually took my mind off of the whole Dougie being back thing. "I caught two shoplifters."
"Did you call it in? I never heard anything come across the radio."
"I didn't. Sorry, but this was one I could handle myself."
"Kids stealing penny candy?"
I smile at his naivety, penny candy. How long has it been since the man bought a pack of gum? "No. It was two women smuggling wine out in their boobs."
His eyebrows shoot up. "Okay," he says hesitantly, "you should have called the police. I'm going to assume the bottles weren't valued at over one hundred dollars, but it's still a class C misdemeanor. They would have had to pay a fine, at the very least."
I lean close to him and kiss the end of his nose. "And, that is exactly why I didn't call you. These were two old ladies who were trying to celebrate one of their birthdays. Besides, Brenda needed a little confidence enhancer to meet the strippers."
Mitch opens his mouth but shuts it without saying anything. "Busy tonight after work?"
As much as I'd love to spend time with Mitch, I need to get home to check on Waylon. "I think Waylon is going to need company. Rain check?"
"Sure. Has Dougie called anymore?"
I shake my head.
"Well, when he does, get a number from him. He and I need to have a little talk." He kisses my cheek and climbs back inside the cruiser as the radio crackles to life. He lifts the mike and starts talking, winking at me as I start to roll the bucket back inside.
***********************************************************************************************
Aaron's truck isn't at his place so I'm surprised when I find Waylon sitting on the steps to the porch. He's watching a video on his phone and when he looks up at me, the bluish light from the screen casts dark shadows under his eyes.
"Did you lock yourself out?" I tease.
"No. Just sitting outside to get some fresh air. Heard next week is supposed to be rainy most of the time." He looks out past me, into the darkness.
I know this kid. He's had his thinking time and with that came the realization that Dougie still hasn't called him or tried to make contact. "Well, we do need the rain. I'm afraid Mrs. Fine might combust next time she lights one of her cigarettes," I tease. "Thinking about your dad, aren't you?"
He doesn't answer, just gives me a knowing side eye. "Do all parents act like this?"
"I just know my own, but no, they never did stuff like this. And, I doubt you'll pull stuff like this when you have kids. I can't make up excuses for him, so I won't. Dougie is Dougie. I'm sure his reasons are valid to him."
He props himself back on his elbows and looks up at the sky.
"How's your teacher been?"
Again with the side eye. "I just keep telling myself that I only have him for one semester."
I pat his knee and use it to push myself up. "You'll make it. I was never a teacher's pet. I can give you pointers on flying under the radar."
"Mind if I take my shower?" he asks.
"Go right ahead."
We walk into the trailer and I put my work vest on the counter and search the fridge for a beer. There are none to be had so I grab some orange juice, and pour myself a small glass. Waylon's notebooks and chrome book are splayed out on the kitchen table. I need to pay some bills so I start putting papers away, and go over to plug in his chrome book so it will charge and be ready for school tomorrow. I can hear the shower running. I open his folder that has Marine Biology written in his messy script on the cover. There are papers shoved in there like a maniac has been through it. His other folders are neat and the papers are pristine. But this one doesn't even seem to belong to the same kid. I start flipping through the papers. Red marks are all over the work. I pull a report out that I know he worked on for days. Scribbled across the front cover is a nasty note from Tomlin.
"This is a paper that might make a seventh grader proud but you are in the eleventh grade. Margins are wrong. Didn't support your points with facts. Maybe if you read the book I assigned, you would have been more prepared." Right next to the note was a C minus.
I slip his notebooks and folders into his backpack and close my eyes. Conjuring the face of Mr. Tomlin, I visualize myself walking into the classroom and smacking the smug look off of his face.
"Oh, Mr. Tomlin, you and I are going to have a come to Jesus meeting. Yes we are."
By GWHARGIS
So far, Miranda is raising her ex-lover's, Dougie, son. Now Dougie is back and Miranda is afraid that he wants to take Waylon. She catches two shoplifters and gives them a punishment of sorts by making them clean up the store. Now, she decides to talk to Waylon's teacher.
*************************************************************************************************
After Waylon falls asleep, I crawl into my bed and think about my next move. I need to check with the court to make sure Dougie's sudden reappearance doesn't nullify my temporary custody agreement. I think about the things that damn teacher wrote on Waylon's paper. Even if it wasn't perfect, the note was just so negative. Aren't you, as a teacher, supposed to be molding the minds of our youth? Why would someone be so ugly to a kid, especially a kid who is trying? I had a teacher like him. My teacher hid his abusive words under the guise of humor, but they still hurt. I take ten deep breaths and try to clear my mind. (Rita told me she saw this on Tik Tok as a sure fire way to relax and fall asleep.) I try to keep my eyes closed but like a kid on Christmas Eve, I'm wired.
I go into the kitchen and grab the phone, take it back to my room and dial Mitch's number.
"Hello, Miranda, does your mother know you're still awake?" he teases.
"I won't tell if you don't tell," I lay back on the bed and close my eyes, trying to picture his face.
"What's going through that pretty head of yours? I know if you're calling this late at night, something is bothering you."
I groan. "I can't just call the man I love simply to hear his voice?"
At this, he laughs. "Out with it."
Hearing his voice makes me smile. Makes me feel silly for being so worked up about everything. Mitch makes everything make sense.
"I'm scared that Dougie is going to take Waylon. I'm worried about one of his teachers. The guy seems to be hell bent on destroying any confidence that Waylon has. I was thinking about paying him a little visit one day this week."
"You think it's that bad? Waylon is in eleventh grade. Maybe let him handle it for a little while longer. They haven't even been in school for a whole month yet."
Even though he can't see it, I frown. "But I want to meet this teacher. Maybe, if we can talk, I can let him know how it's affecting Waylon. I'm not gonna go for his jugular."
"That's exactly what you're gonna go for, Miranda. This is what you live for. If you feel like you have to contact him, send a note. Maybe that will let him know you're concerned about Waylon."
"You're such a good mom, Mitch," I whisper. "Your girls are lucky to have you."
"Alright, alright, enough of that. Go to bed Miranda. I'll see you tomorrow. Love you."
"Love you," I say as I disconnect. I hold the phone close to my chest. How did I luck out with him? After all of the losers and red flags, I finally got a good one. "Good for you, Miranda," I whisper to myself as I start to feel my eyes closing on their own. "Good for you."
**********************************************************************************************
I take Waylon to school in the morning, drop him off and purposely avoid eye contact with Mr. Tomlin. To look at him might trigger him ... or me. I drive to the visitor parking lot, pull into a space and turn off the engine. The cars are still pulling through the line, but it's dwindling. I hop out of the car and walk directly over to where he is standing.
"Mr. Tomlin," I say, plastering my best smile on my face. "I'm Miranda, Waylon's," I stumble over the way to describe my relationship with Waylon. I needn't have worried because he waves his hand at me like I'm a pesky mosquito.
"Waylon's mommy, and you're here because your little man is having a hard time in my class. Probably the first hard time he's ever had."
My teeth sink into my own tongue in an attempt to be civil. "Actually, I was wondering if you have time to talk about his work. He loves Marine biology and is talking about studying it in college. It would be nice if you were a tad more encouraging."
Tomlin, turns, looking down his long nose at me. "Mrs. Wilcox, it's not my job to encourage these kids, my job is to teach."
"It is your job to encourage them. And, I'm not Mrs. Wilcox. My name is Miranda Buckley," I snap. "This kid has been through hell the past two years. I may not be his mother, but I promise you, if you continue to pick on him, you will be running into me again."
I turn and start walking back to my car.
"If you think I'm going to change how I teach because of a middle aged woman's tantrum, you're in for a disappointment," he calls out to my retreating back.
I stop, and turn slowly to face him. He thinks he got me with the middle aged comment, but he would be wrong. Hell, he's my age, maybe a little older. "Mr. Tomlin, I'm afraid this was me being polite. When I have a tantrum, as you call it, you will wet your prissy little britches. That is a fact. Good day, Mr. Tomlin."
I don't bother to wait for a reply. I didn't come to fight. I came to talk to him adult to adult. Too bad that didn't work out.
By GWHARGIS
So far, Miranda Buckley is raising the child of her ex-lover, Dougie. Dougie hasn't been seen or made contact in over a year, but suddenly he has called her. Now she is afraid that he has come to take his son back. She has confronted a teacher of Waylon's, thinking it will help.
**********************************************************************************************
Mitch takes me to lunch at a small cafe just outside of town. It's about the only place where we can eat in peace. Every place in town has locals coming up, interrupting any conversations we try to have. Of course, being the sheriff of the county, he can't tell them to buzz off. He's polite and cordial and everything that I wouldn't be. I never look up or make eye contact basically because my face can't keep a secret. If I'm aggravated, it shows. And constant interruptions are aggravating.
I'm not gonna lie when I say it kind of pisses me off when people look at me like I'm not worthy to be with Mitch. He's a grown up. He can pick to be with whoever he wants, and he has picked me. Suck on that Patterson County.
I remember once when a county commissioner came over just to say hello to Mitch while we were out to dinner. The look on his face, or rather, disbelief on his face when he found out I worked for a gas station and was dating the esteemed sheriff of the county, was irksome. I didn't say anything, even though the words were steamrolling towards the end of my tongue.
Mitch looked over at me after the commissioner was gone. "Really, Miranda?"
"I didn't say anything," I said through clenched teeth.
"You didn't have to. That look you gave him could have curdled milk."
"In my defense, he was very judgmental. Did you notice how he looked at me when I told him where I worked?"
Mitch shrugged. "So what, he's a blowhard. If you haven't noticed, I love you. I don't care what other people think about you or me. You shouldn't either."
But today, we are about the only people in the cafe. We place our orders and Mitch brings up the teacher. "Did you send a note like I suggested?"
I shrug and start to straighten the slight wrinkle out of the corner of linen napkin.
"You didn't, did you? You went in true Miranda style, guns blazing and left him for dead." He does this half laugh that implies he isn't amused.
"I like the direct approach. Things can be misconstrued in texts and notes. I just asked him to give Waylon a little grace. That's all."
"Did you tell Waylon you were going to speak with his teacher?"
"I don't remember." Impatiently, I look towards the kitchen for our waitress. "Where's our food, I'm starving."
"Look, I know you love that kid. I know you'd do anything for him. But sometimes, you have to let a kid figure things out, by themselves. They will come to you for advice if they need it."
"He's had to figure things out for most of his life, Mitch. I just wanted to fight one battle for him. Is that so wrong?"
He reaches over and takes my hand in his. "No. He's lucky to have you in his corner. And I mean that. But you need to look at why you did what you did. Was it for him or for you?"
**********************************************************************************************
After lunch we head to my house for a little alone time before Waylon gets home from school. Thankfully, Aaron's truck is gone again, otherwise, he would have invited himself over like he always does.
While I fix a pot of coffee for us, Mitch sits in the kitchen chair and ties his shoes. "Hey, they found out who those other two bodies were from Haynes Pond. Two Federal Agents. Apparently, they came down from the D.C. area because of a tip off that moonshine was being funneled from Patterson to Raleigh and Durham. They must have been on that old bridge at the same time as Aaron's great uncle. The weight of both cars caused it to collapse. The Haynes family didn't want to get in trouble for letting bootleggers use their land and never reported it."
"Damn," I say. "Can you imagine the hell of waiting for any word on your loved one and never knowing why they didn't come home?"
"No. But those were different times. Still, if there are any family members left, they'll get closure now."
I hand him a mug of coffee and we head out to the deck. The smoke halo of Mrs. Fine can be seen against the bright September sky.
Mitch looks over and waves. "Afternoon, Mrs. Fine."
She tilts her head to the side and puffs on her rank smelling cigarette. "Afternoon, Sheriff. You here on business or pleasure?" When she opens her mouth, a cloud of smoke billows out.
"I'm off duty."
She flicks the cigarette butt into the road. "I like having a cop in the neighborhood. Makes a woman like me feel safe."
I roll my eyes. "Like anybody would mess with that old hag," I whisper.
Mitch nudges me. "Glad I can be of service," he calls back.
"And, Miranda, my hearing is twenty-twenty."
I try not to look at Mitch. I know he's thinking this is the funniest thing. I hear the bus as its brakes protest at the bus stop.
I can tell by Waylon's walk that he's had a rough day. I see the eyebrows that are scrunched down over his eyes. He stomps up the stairs to the deck and storms past us without a word.
"Rough day?" I ask.
He grabs the door handle and stops. "Stay out of my life, Miranda. Stay the hell out of my life."
That's when I realize I should have listened to Mitch. That is the exact moment I realize that even though I have learned to recognize red flags in others, I still don't see my own.
I hop up to follow him, but Mitch grabs my arm. "You, go for a walk. I'll go talk to him."
"He isn't gonna listen to you."
Mitch kissed my forehead. "I'm not the one who screwed up his life."
By GWHARGIS
So far, Miranda is raising Waylon, the son of her ex-lover, Dougie. Now, Dougie has returned and Miranda thinks he's come back for the boy. She talked to Waylon's teacher and may have aggravated the situation.
*************************************************************************************************
I start walking to the mailbox when Mitch goes inside. I can hear the raised voice of Waylon but can't really decipher what he's saying. All I can tell is he is pissed. I kick the granite stones as I walk. I hope Mitch can get through to him, but I have my doubts. Of all times for Aaron to be gone. He could talk some sense into Waylon.
"That boy has a real attitude, Miranda," Mrs. Fine says. "Somebody needs to snuff that out."
I shake my head. "Not now, Mrs. Fine."
"You got to be firm with that kid. He already has one strike against him with that deadbeat daddy of his."
I look over, watching the smoke as it dances around her head. "I don't know anything about raising kids, especially teen aged boys. I'm realizing I'm in over my head."
Mrs. Fine cocks one eyebrow and shakes her head. "Kids are like animals. You have to set the limits and make sure they bathe, do their homework, go to bed, all the things that come natural to you and me. You can't be their friend."
"I blew it today. I thought I was helping but I didn't. He's pissed at me, Mitch is saying I told you so. I feel like shit right now. I can't do anything right."
Mrs. Fine flicks her cigarette an inch away from my face. "Oh, for Pete's sake. Quit feeling sorry for yourself. Parenting is all about making mistakes. Stop whining and go back inside and talk to him."
I look back at the trailer. It's now or never. I forget about the mail and quickly head back. I stomp up the stairs and grab the door handle.
"Thanks, Mitch, I can handle it from here."
Mitch holds up his hands and backs up towards the door. "I'm gonna head on out. You two play nice. I don't want a call about domestic disturbance after I leave." He looks at Waylon and then at me. "I'll call you later."
I wait until I hear Mitch start his car before I speak. "Look, I did what I thought was the right thing, Waylon."
"I asked you not to. You knew I didn't want you to confront him."
"I didn't confront him. I talked to him. Why would you say I confronted him?"
"First, that was his description of it. Second, I've seen you in action."
I blew out an exasperated breath. "Waylon, I'm sorry. If I could go back in time, I would drive off and let you handle it." I look around the room, and somehow it feels smaller than before. Anger and resentment seem to be talking up all of the room. "That's not exactly true. I'm not your mom or you're aunt. There is no blood between us, but I love you. I hate to see you get hurt. So, I probably wouldn't change anything."
He says nothing, just sits on the couch staring at the blank television screen. "I know you do. But, I'm almost seventeen. I don't need you to fight my battles for me. Especially not with him."
I clasp my hands and nod. "Noted."
"He did change my nickname."
"What was your nickname?"
"Mr. Tomlin called me Dougie's boy. Now he calls me Momma's boy."
I close my eyes and try not to react. I really don't like Mr. Tomlin. And knowing I can't do anything about it is eating away at me. "Tell him to stop." I offer.
Waylon shakes his head. "I don't open my mouth in that class. He's already tossed a couple of people out."
His brow isn't furrowed anymore and his voice is regulated so I think the storm has passed. "Are we good?" I ask.
He nods. "Close, but I think Patterson deli will smooth everything over."
I sigh and grab my keys off the counter. "Come on. You are a shrewd negotiator, you know that right?"
***********************************************************************************************
The phone is ringing as I get the front door unlocked. "Grab that will you, Waylon?" I ask as he slips past me.
"Hello?" he says, his voice deep and confident.
I'm putting my pocketbook on the counter and taking off my jacket when I hear this strangled cry come from Waylon.
"Dad? Is it really you?"
My dinner does a sudden lurch as I process his words. He looks so happy and relieved. I step back out on the porch, giving Waylon his privacy. Five minutes later he comes outside. "It was my dad. He's back in town. He's coming by after school tomorrow. I can't believe I'm finally going to see him. After all this time."
I know he's happy. This is the one thing he's been dreaming of for two years, I get it. But where is the anger? Where are the questions about where the hell has Dougie been all this time? I'm pissed that Dougie will get off scot free. "That's awesome, Waylon." I walk over and hug him. "I'm so happy for you."
He can't stop smiling. "I'm gonna finish my homework then take a shower. Night, Miranda. Thanks for dinner."
I nod and go into my room. I need to talk to someone who will understand how I'm feeling. I need to talk to my momma.
By GWHARGIS
So far, Miranda is still trying to get her life together. She is raising the son of her ex-lover, Dougie. Dougie has been missing for close to two years, now he is back in town and Miranda is afraid that he's come back to take the boy.
***********************************************************************************************
I don't bother to call Momma, before showing up on her doorstep. When she opens the door, she smiles first then immediately replaces the smile with a serious look. "Well, Miranda Lynn, this is a surprise. It isn't my birthday, and it isn't Mother's Day. What do I owe this pleasant surprise to?"
"Can't I just come see you without a reason?" I ask as I inch past her and head to the kitchen.
"You can, sure, but you usually don't. What's going on?"
I slump down on the stool at the counter and study the rooster wallpaper that's been there for as long as I can remember. "Dougie's back."
Momma does a dramatic step back. "Back as in here. In Patterson county?"
I nod. "I know he wants Waylon back."
She shakes her head and crosses to the refrigerator where she pulls out a carton of eggs and a stick of butter. "Scrambled eggs?" She never turns around to see if I shake my head yes or no. Eggs are our love language. When the world becomes overwhelming, she fixes scrambled eggs. When I'm sad or she's worried, scrambled eggs make everything better. "Waylon wouldn't go with him. He loves you. He's a smart boy."
"You should have heard how happy he was after he talked to his dad."
She moves the skillet off of the burner and comes over to wrap her arms around me. "It's only natural that Waylon would be happy to hear from him. Give it time, Miranda. That boy isn't stupid, he'll see through the bullshit pretty quick. And, who knows, maybe Dougie's changed."
I level my gaze at her. "That would be something."
We chat about mundane things while she finishes fixing breakfast, you know things like the weather, my job. Then she brings the plates over and we start to eat.
"How's Mitch?" she asks, dabbing her mouth with a paper napkin.
"He's fine. He still level headed and pragmatic. Not sure what he sees in me, to be honest."
"Miranda Lynn! Don't you ever put yourself down like that. Mitch loves you. You're a smart and beautiful woman."
I look at her, my momma, my biggest defender and fan. "If I'm so smart, why is my life such a train wreck all the time?"
"Nobody has a perfect life. That's a myth. You remember the Ferguesons?" she asks.
"The big white house on the corner? They had two girls, both a little older than me. I remember them, why?"
"Mrs. Fergueson passed last year from breast cancer. One of her daughters ran off and joined some religious cult and Mr. Fergueson married his secretary less than a month after he buried his wife."
"And?" I ask, wondering where this was going.
"And, I thought they were perfect. They were the perfect Facebook image. It's all smoke and mirrors, Miranda. There is no such thing as perfect. We are all the conductors of our own trains. Some derail and are back on track in no time. Others derail and they just walk away from the wreck, hop another train and repeat the process. When you were in the hospital, Mitch told me how much he loved you. Said that you were probably one of the smartest, most determined people he'd ever known. It killed him to see you lying there on the hospital bed. He told me , he kept waiting for you to open your eyes and say something smart alec. So, don't you ever forget how smart you are."
I scoop the last bite of egg and eat it, then sit back full of eggs and love.
***********************************************************************************************
Rita finishes ringing her customer up and grins when I come around the counter. "The reporter called again. She was asking questions about Waylon."
"You didn't tell her anything, did you?"
"No. Just that he was still living with you. She asked what grade he was in and which school he went to."
My eyes narrow and I tense up. "You didn't give out that information, please tell me you didn't."
Rita shakes her head, her blond hair cascading over her shoulders. "No, No, I told her I wasn't sure. Told her to call back after you got here."
I pull my vest on and flip my hair out from under it. "What the hell does she want to know about Waylon? Unless she knows Dougie is back. She's a little news hound but even she wouldn't stoop so low as to try to get a story from a minor."
Rita shrugs. "Oh, wow, look who's back." She points at the door and I roll my eyes. In walks Alice and Brenda. Alice saunters like she's the cat's meow and Brenda follows her, clutching her purse.
"Ladies, you aren't here to start any trouble are you?"
Alice smiles like she's just heard a dirty joke, but Brenda is shaking her head. "I brought money with me." She lifts her leather purse up so I can see it.
I turn to Rita and whisper. "Don't take your eyes off of either of them." I come out from behind the counter. "So, ladies, how were the strippers?"
"Too young," Alice says. "They had the goods but didn't know what to do with them."
"Well, I'm sorry it wasn't as wonderful as you thought it would be. Still, it had to beat having the early bird special at Applebee's."
"The appetizers at Applebee's are a tad bigger than the appetizers that day."
I cough my laugh into my palm. Alice is a real character.
"We are giving it one more chance." Alice tosses her head from side to side.
"Strippers? How many different young men do you know, Alice?" I ask.
"Met this one as we were walking by a construction sight. Nice enough kid."
I shake my head. "Well, the best of luck to you ladies. I hope it's everything you think its going to be."
Brenda walks to the counter with a bottle of Manischewitz blackberry wine. She sets it down and then starts patting herself down. "See, nothing in my shirt," she says, making sure I watch her.
"Okay, Brenda. I can see that." I say, scanning the bottle and slipping it into a bag. After she pays, I walk with them to the door.
"Ladies, have a great time. And, remember, young men scar easily. Be gentle with them."
I watch them as the walk across the parking lot. Two old women who still go after life with gusto. God help those strippers.
By GWHARGIS
So far, Miranda Jessup Buckley is raising Waylon, the son of her ex-lover, Dougie. Dougie disappeared without a trace close to two years ago, but has suddenly shown back up. And Miranda is convinced he's back for Waylon.
*************************************************************************************************
I check my watch and see that now is about the time Waylon is getting off the bus. I wonder if Dougie is there, sitting in my living room and drinking my beer. I could kick myself for not changing the locks when he first left, but I had a few other things going on at the time. And, I know he wouldn't hesitate to let himself in, if he could. He probably still thinks it's his place, even though he never once made a payment. His money went to Dougie approved things like his truck and beer and the occasional car show. Now, my money, that went to daily living things, like helping him out with the occasional truck payment, and the rent for the lot and the trailer payment. I shake my head trying to rid the mental picture of the jack-ass on my couch with his feet on my coffee table.
I'm just about rid of the image when in walks the pride and joy of The Patterson Gazette, Colleen Weaver.
"Miss Weaver, long time no see."
"Miranda. How are things?" she says, sitting her over sized leather purse on the counter and digging for her recorder. "Have you heard from the Toblerones?"
"Other than right after the trial, no. Why are you asking?"
She shakes her head. "Just wondering."
I look at her like a parent who knows there are never random questions. "Miss Weaver, I'm pretty sure you're fibbing and you do have a reason for asking. Come on, tell me why you're asking."
"Is that boy still with you?"
"Waylon?"
"Yes. Mr. Wilcox's son. Is he still living with you?"
I feel my body start to tense up. Why is she asking and what does she care? "He is. Is that news worthy, Colleen?"
She smiles and looks down. "You called me Colleen, am I in trouble?"
"You prefer Miss Weaver?"
She looks at the recorder in her hand and tosses it back into the depths of her purse. "It might be a story later on, but honestly, I just wanted to know."
"Why? Why do you want to know, and why might it be a story later?"
Colleen looks towards the door. "I wish I could tell you, but I can't...at least, not yet."
I figure if I go silent on her, she'll break and tell me why she's so interested in Waylon. No such luck. Colleen is a cool one under pressure. So, I give in. If I start asking the questions I might be able to figure out her angle. "Why so interested in Waylon?"
"It's not for a story. That I can promise you."
"What do you want to know?"
"How old is he?"
"Sixteen. A tad young for you, Colleen."
Her cheeks turn the lightest tone of pink, but I'm damn proud that I made her blush. "Does he want to go to college?"
"Yes. I've put a little money aside for him to go to the community college. He's already started applying for scholarships. He's a bright kid. He's going even if I have to take on a second job."
"That's admirable," she says.
I'm wondering if she's talking about me or Waylon, but I don't have the balls to ask her. "Anything else you'd like to know?"
"I heard a rumor that his father is back in town. Is that true?"
And, here it is. "Did you come here to ask about Dougie?"
"No. You're saying it's true then."
I look down at the counter and flick a piece of paper off the counter with my fingernail. "I'm not confirming or denying."
"Miranda, I'm not here on a story."
"You keep saying that, Colleen, but if it's not a story you're after, then why are you here asking me a bunch of questions?"
Colleen lifts her purse off the counter and heaves it up on her shoulder. "You're life is going to change, Miranda. Just know that."
She leaves without another word and I stand there, mouth gaping as my mind starts to catapult out of control.
I pick up the phone behind me and dial my house. It rings eleven times before the answering machine picks up. I slam the phone down and dial Waylon's cell. "Pick up, pick up, pick up," I say as the line goes straight to voice mail.
What if Dougie is just taking him off? I don't get to say goodbye, I don't get to see Waylon one last time? Certainly, Waylon would want to say goodbye to me and my momma. He's crazy about Momma.
My heart is slamming in my chest and as I'm picking up the phone to call Mitch to have him put out an all points bulletin on Dougie, a truck pulls into the lot. I hang the phone back up as Waylon climbs out of the passenger side and heads for the door.
My breath comes in quick bursts and I try to get myself under control before he sees me like this. I throw the best smile I have on my face and lean casually on the counter. "Is that your daddy's new truck?"
"Yeah. He's taking me out to Route 17 to practice driving. It's nice, isn't it?"
"Sure is."
He looks out at his father who is still sitting in the truck.
"Well, I don't want to keep you. Thanks for stopping by to let me know your plans. Any idea what time you'll be home?"
He shifts from foot to foot. "If he was to come in here, you wouldn't get mad would you?"
I wrinkle my nose. "Why would you think that?"
"I said it was fine. He said you'd probably throw something at him. He'll stay outside if it's going to upset you."
Dougie isn't as dumb as I thought, but for Waylon's sake, I control my impulses and shrug. "He's your dad. He can come in if he wants to." I even go as far as to look at the jack-ass and smile and wave.
Then I take a deep breath as the driver's side door opens and Mr. Red Flag himself steps out, all smiles and cockiness. Without missing a beat, he comes straight for me, arms open for a hug. I narrow my eyes and raise my knee. "Y'all have fun," I say as he sidesteps me, when he realizes my intentions.
"You haven't changed a bit," he says, a smirk on his face. But, he's wrong. I have changed. I have changed more than he can ever imagine.
By GWHARGIS
So far, Miranda is taking care of her ex-lover, Dougie's son, Waylon. When Dougie disappears and breaks off all contact, Miranda gets temporary custody of Waylon. Now, Dougie has resurfaced and Miranda is convinced he's back to take Waylon.
***********************************************************************************************
I watch as Dougie and Waylon pull out of the parking lot and wince at the sound of the truck tires squealing when Dougie peels out. He's such a show off. I can remember when we'd go places and he'd drive like a maniac. Swerving and braking for no reason, taking corners like he was being chased by someone. He'd look over at me while I was clutching the door and grin. He honestly thought he was turning me on.
"Can you slow down? I'd like to get there in one piece," I'd say, trying not to show him the brunt of my irritation.
It never failed, he'd look at me like I had just peed in his cornflakes and mutter something about me never wanting to have any fun.
I think about Dougie now, instructing Waylon on the proper way to handle a vehicle. Probably telling him how women get turned on by aggressive driving, telling him not to sweat wearing a seat belt and how yellow lights mean speed up to get through before the red light. I make myself stop. Maybe Dougie has finally grown up. Maybe he has changed. I pray Momma is right.
The store is dead tonight. I've had one customer and four or five at the self pay pumps. I wander around, fronting the shelves and restocking the few drinks that are gone. I'm cleaning the junk under the counter when the chimes on the door sound.
I pop my head up over the counter and see Mitch. "Look it's the fuzz," I tease.
"Ah, haven't heard that in a long time. Pretty quiet here tonight." He walks down the candy aisle and grabs a Reese Cup. "You going straight home after you get off?"
"Not sure. Dougie took Waylon out for the night. Said he was going to teach Waylon how to drive."
"That'll be good for both of them. Plus, it gives you a chance to spend a little alone time with me." He tosses the candy on the counter and winks.
"Come back to my place and have a beer. It's a nice night to sit on the porch and look at the stars."
Mitch smiles and leans in to give me a kiss. "I'll see you around ten." He starts walking to the door and as he's about to exit he turns around. "Miranda, I'm gonna let Waylon spend some time with his father, but I'm gonna have to talk to Dougie sooner or later. Maybe you can convince him into coming by the station, so I don't have to come looking for him."
"I'll pass it along, Mitch, that's all I can do."
**********************************************************************************************
Aaron is sitting on the steps when I get home. The trailer is dark and that's my clue that Waylon is still with his father. "Evening, Aaron," I say, dropping my purse on the chair by the door. "How long have you been sitting here?"
"Fifteen minutes or so. Was that Dougie that came and picked up Waylon this afternoon?"
"Yep." I say it closed mouth, because I'm trying to remain civil, but even to my own ears that "yep" was loaded with attitude.
"Where the heck has he been?"
I shrug. "I haven't asked and to be perfectly honest, I don't care. Dougie came back to see Waylon and that's all that matters."
I check my watch. "Wonder what's keeping Mitch?" I ask aloud.
I hear the phone ringing inside and jump up to unlock the door. "Hello?"
"Hey, I'm just finishing up with an accident. Should be there in about twenty minutes. Still okay with me coming over?"
I look around at the empty trailer. No Waylon, draped on the couch, staring at the television. "Yes, please hurry."
I don't hang up the phone. I call Waylon's cell and it goes to voice mail again. "Hey, it's me. Just wondering what time your daddy is gonna drop you off. Hope your driving lesson went good. I'll leave the door unlocked. Oh, Aaron stopped by, um, that's all. See you in a little while." I hang up.
Digging two beers from the fridge, I return to the porch. "Here," I say, handing one to Aaron.
"Thanks," he says, popping the top and slurping the bubbly head that comes through. "Did you shake mine up?" He laughs and pours some of the excess foam onto the grass.
"Honest opinion, Aaron, what do you think about Dougie?"
"I don't know. He could be cool. He wasn't good enough for you. Why? You aren't thinking about getting back together with him, are you?"
I scowl at him. "I should punch you for even asking that. No! I know Waylon is happy that he's back, but I can't help but wonder why he's back."
Aaron shrugs. "Maybe he missed his kid. Even the worst parents can realize what's important."
"I hope so. Momma said that maybe he's changed. I pray he's here for the right reasons, for Waylon's sake." After a few moments of silence, I look over at Aaron. "Still working with your brother?"
"Yeah. Few days a week. I, uh, went and told my dad about the DNA findings and how the other car was a Fed's car. He said I needed to find a new focus."
"Aaron, forgive me for saying this, but your daddy is an asshole. You helped solve a mystery, helped give closure to two other families, not to mention your own family. You should be proud of yourself."
A slight smile comes to his face. "Thanks."
"I'm proud of you. You were like a dog with a bone about it. You showed grit and determination when most others would have given up. Stop measuring yourself by your daddy's yardstick and start measuring yourself by your own."
He holds out his half empty beer can and clinks it against mine. "Thank you, Miranda, that means a lot coming from you."
"So, besides working for your brother a few days a week, what else are you wanting to do?"
Aaron gulps his beer and turns quickly to face me. "I'm thinking of writing about it?"
"About the cars in the pond?"
He nods. "That and about my great uncle, the other fellas, about Waylon and me diving and finding them, then you finding Ed Preston's dead body there. I could write about how I got to assist in pulling the cars out. I really think its a story that people could sink their teeth into."
I take a sip and let the cold liquid slide down my throat. I try not to think about Ed Preston.
"Miranda?"
"I think if anyone can write this story, it should be you."
Mitch's headlights illuminate Aaron's face and I can see how happy he is.
"I'll see you later," Aaron says and waves at Mitch as he walks across the yard. "Oh, how's this for a title? The Three Musketeers at Hayne's Pond."
I try not to laugh, even though I know he's joking around. "Change it to the Three Stooges at Hayne's Pond, and I'll bet you sell more copies."
He laughs and continues home.
By GWHARGIS
So far, Miranda Buckley is raising her ex-lover, Dougie's son, Waylon. When Dougie disappeared and made no contact, Miranda was granted temporary custody. Now, Dougie is back and Miranda is afraid he's going to take Waylon away.
***********************************************************************************************
Waylon finally gets dropped off around midnight. I go to the door and wave, reminding myself that if I act half way civil to Dougie, maybe Waylon will keep me in the loop about Dougie's plans. He's smiling ear to ear when he comes in.
"Sorry I'm so late. We drove around and Dad showed me where he used to party back in the day. Showed me where he ran off the road in high school. Man, he was wild, wasn't he?"
I listen to the excitement in his voice and know that Dougie told him stories that were ninety per cent bull shit and ten per cent imagination. He painted a picture where he was the coolest guy who ever lived. I believe that just as much as I believe Waylon saw him as a super hero.
"You go on and get ready for bed. I'm gonna run out and talk to your dad for a second." I open the door and hold up my hand to keep Dougie from pulling out of the driveway.
He rolls down his window and smiles at me. He has the same sleazy smile as always. "Hey, Babe."
"The name's Miranda now, at least to you." I clench my jaw and look away. "When did you get back into Patterson?"
"Few days ago. Had to lay low in case anyone was still looking for me."
"Who? The police?"
Dougie grins. "The police are the least of my worries. There were a few good old boys who were hell bent on getting to me. I figured it was easier on everyone if I just disappeared. Missy helped me set everything up. We owe her a debt of gratitude."
"You owe her. I don't owe that psycho anything. Where have you been all this time?"
"Not too far away. I went down to the Keys for a while then ended up back in Myrtle Beach and finally made my way back here." He lays his arm across the edge of the door frame and gives me a once over. "You look good, girl. You been working out?"
"Dougie, cut the crap. Why did you come back?"
"He's my son."
"And? He was your son when you ran off and left him and me to start your new job. He was your son when you were hiding for the past two years. Why the sudden interest now?"
Dougie looks at the house, not at me. "Look, it's late. I'm gonna go and you can go back inside and neither one of us will say anything we will regret later."
I pat the door of his truck. "I'm pretty sure I won't regret anything that comes out of my mouth."
"Well, I'm back, whether you like it or not. See ya."
He puts the truck in reverse and is about to pull away when I remember the teacher. "Hey, what do you know about Waylon's teacher?"
"Who?"
"Mr. Tomlin. He's a science teacher. Waylon said he knew you in high school. Apparently, you bullied him and now he's taking it out on Waylon."
Dougie frowns and I can see him thinking. "Tomlin? Is it Dennis Tomlin?"
I shrug. "Very pinched looking face. Not a shiny happy character."
"If it's Dennis Tomlin, yeah, I know him. He was a butt pirate."
I shake my head. "Butt pirate?"
"Gay. But not the cool kind of gay. He preyed on the younger guys, you know ninth graders and the smaller guys. I caught him playing grab ass in the boys' locker room one day after school. Poor kid was trying to get away from him and Tomlin was pushing him around, trying to get the kid's towel off."
"Did you tell anybody?"
He looks down at me and smiles proudly. "I did better than that. I punched him in the nose and then told everybody what he was doing. Word spreads around in a small town."
I roll my eyes. "Don't I know it."
"Maybe I should go talk to him, you know, man to man."
I shake my head to keep from laughing at either of them being called men. "If you do, wear something sexy for him."
I walk back inside and close the door. So, this guy has always been a bully. For a minute I panic that he is harassing Waylon like he did that boy in the locker room, but I think Waylon might have told me, or if not me, then Aaron.
Waylon is standing by the kitchen sink drinking a glass full of water. He probably has been standing there since I went outside just to make sure I don't scare his dad off.
"So, you had fun tonight," I say, smiling at him. "How long is he back for?"
"That didn't come up. Yes, it was a lot of fun. He didn't treat me like a little kid this time. We talked, really talked." He looks down into the sink and sets his glass down. "You're cool with him being back, aren't you?"
"Of course. He's your father. Now, you really need to get a little sleep before school tomorrow."
Waylon nods and crosses over to his little bedroom alcove.
I need to ask him about Mr. Tomlin. "Hey, Waylon, how are things with Tomlin going?"
"Okay, why?"
"He's never, you know, made you feel uncomfortable, has he?"
"Like how?"
I wince, now feeling stupid for bringing it up. "Just uncomfortable. Maybe standing too close to you, putting his hands on you."
I flinch at the face Waylon makes. "Ew, gross, Miranda. No! He has his golden boy in class. Terrence Evanoff. The sun rises and sets on him."
"Does Terrence, rather, is Terrence okay with that kind of attention?"
Waylon shrugs. "I never asked him."
I let the subject drop and decide to pay my reptilian ex-mother-in-law, Elaine, the principal at Waylon's school, a visit soon. If anyone can stop a predator at the school, it will be her.
By GWHARGIS
So far, Miranda is raising her ex-lover, Dougie's son, Waylon. She obtained temporary custody when Dougie disappeared but now he's back and Miranda is afraid he's back to take his son.
***********************************************************************************************
I have an hour and a half before I have to be at work so I drive to the high school and pull into the visitor parking. I drum my fingers on the steering wheel and stare at the entrance to the building. If there is anyone I could live the rest of my life never seeing again, and be at peace with that knowledge, it would be Elaine Buckley. My ex-mother-in-law and I have a long and uncomfortable history. She despises me and I think she is the Anti-Christ. She blames me for the divorce between her son, Farley, and me. Maybe I am to blame, because I am the one who went out and got a lawyer, but only after years of him stepping out on me.
I pull my keys from the ignition and start for the school. Just stay calm and let her know about Mr. Tomlin. Surely, even Elaine will want to make sure nothing is going on. I won't even bring up Waylon's name, just that kid Trent Evanoff. I pause and rack my brain for the kid's name. I know it started with a T, but Trent doesn't sound right. Why didn't I write it down? I'm terrible at names, especially when I'm upset and what Waylon told me upset me. I'll just call him the Evanoff kid. Maybe she'll slip up and say the first name.
I get to the door and press the buzzer. No one asks why I'm here, just buzzes me on through. I step in to the office and look around. No resource officer is lounging about, thankfully. That little toad of a hall monitor gives me the creeps.
The secretary puts her cell phone down and looks up at me. "Hi, sorry, trying to put in my grocery list. How can I help you?"
"I need to see Elaine," I say.
"I'll see if she's free. And who are you, hon?"
"Just tell her Miranda is here."
She nods and calls to Elaine's office. She whispers something and I hear her as she says my name, then says it again. When she puts the phone back down she smiles stiffly at me. "Have a seat. She'll be with you in a few."
I flip through the yearbooks that are scattered on the side table and look up the faculty pictures. Sure enough, smiling smugly, is a Dennis Tomlin.
Elaine comes up front, greets me with the warmth of a frozen tundra wind. "Miranda, this is a surprise."
"You didn't say pleasant surprise, Elaine," I say, chiding her playfully.
She doesn't seem to defrost one single degree. "No, I didn't. How can I help you?"
"Are you going to invite me back to your office?"
"I'm sure whatever you have to say, it can be said right here in the lobby."
I shrug, knowing the minute I say something about Mr. Tomlin being a predator, Elaine is going to flip her wig and drag me down the hall. "Okay, I'm just gonna warn you that what I'm about to say might not be a great reflection on the school."
"Spit it out, Miranda."
"I think Mr. Tomlin is trying to groom one of his students." I watch as the words settle on her and her bottom lip turns down. Quickly, she looks around to see if anyone might have heard my statement.
"That is the craziest thing I think I've ever heard you say, and I've been around you when you were drinking, Miranda."
"I have it on good, well, pretty good authority that he did this in high school and tried to force himself on several younger boys."
"Lower your voice!" she hisses, then motions for me to follow her behind the reception desk and back to her office.
Once we are both inside, she closes the door. "Mr. Tomlin is one of our best teachers. This sounds like a smear campaign. Who made these accusations?"
"Someone who was there, and caught him."
"Miranda, do you know what our teachers make? Do you know how hard it is to try to rein in teenagers. Sometimes, things teachers do are misconstrued."
"There is something about him, Elaine. Underneath that best teacher act of his, there is bad news. I don't care if you believe me, but watch him. I know you want to protect your teachers, but don't forget to look out for your students." I stand up and start for the door.
"You said he was grooming someone. Who would that be?"
"All I know is his last name is Evanoff."
"I'll talk to him."
I nod then open the door and leave.
When I get back to my car, my hands are shaking. I hope Elaine was being truthful when she said she'd talk to the Evanoff boy. But I won't have anyway of knowing, I'll just have to trust her to do the right thing. This is going to be torture.
***********************************************************************************************
Matt is in the office when I come into work. He looks rough, bags under his eyes, and his clothes are wrinkled.
"Jesus, Matt, are you living in your car or something?"
He looks up confused. "No. Why?"
"Well, look at you. You don't look like you've had any sleep in week and your clothes are wrinkled and a mess."
He sighs heavily. "Wife's been out of town at some religious retreat. I've got the kids by myself. I messed up the washing machine, forgot to send money with them for lunches. I'm worn out."
"Take them out for pizza tonight."
"We had McDonald's Monday, Patterson Deli last night. I can't afford to take them out again. This is killing me."
"When does she get back from her retreat?"
"Not until Sunday," he says, his voice cracking as he speaks. "I love my kids, Miranda, but they are bad. There is no other way to say it. Randy is hitting his sister, she's taking his shoes and throwing them into the fireplace. I can't turn my back on them for a second."
"Grow a pair, Matt. They are kids. You make them behave. You take the remotes and the tablets and everything else. Lock them in the trunk of your car. Tell them if they don't start acting better, you won't give them their things back."
"Do you have any idea what hell they will raise? Kids don't listen to reason. They fight back."
I tap my foot. "You are their father, Matt. Take the wheel."
He sighs again and nods. "You're right. I'm gonna straighten them out. When they get home from school, I'm gonna sit them down and let them know who's boss." He pushes back the chair and stands. "I've got this."
I pat him on the back and smile as he leaves the office and heads for the back door. "You got this, Matt."
I smile until he's safely on the other side of the door and the door is shut. Poor guy. He doesn't stand a chance.
By GWHARGIS
So far, Miranda is raising the son of her ex-lover, Dougie. Now, Dougie is back and she's afraid he might be back to take the boy away.
***********************************************************************************************
Aaron and Waylon are sitting on the porch when I finally get home. Waylon is huddled close and they are both staring at a piece of paper in Aaron's hands.
"What are y'all doing?" I ask, all the while wondering if I really want to know.
Aaron looks up, excitement in his eyes. "I found out some information on the two Feds who were in the other car. This is crazy. The senior officer, was Howard Elgin. Born in Bethesda, Maryland. Had a wife and two daughters. Wife died of cancer in 1957. Both daughters got married and I'm trying to find out contact information for them or anyone from that family."
"How'd you find that out?" I ask, amazed that Aaron had actually followed through and done some research.
"I tapped into the online library of D.C. Then I googled the agents missing during the years of prohibition. There were twenty-three agents missing during those few years. But, I looked into those two after I found out Nathan Page was a home grown guy. Born and raised in Patterson, down around Atlas. Seems he was a distant cousin of the Haynes."
"You think he was dirty?"
"Maybe not dirty, but he may have tipped off someone down here."
I motion for them to slide over so I could sit. "What else do you know about Nathan Page?"
"He was under investigation twice right before he and Elgin went missing. Tampering with evidence and roughing up an informant. Trying to coerce a witness. He sounds like a guy you wouldn't want to mess with." Aaron says.
"Any one still around here that is kin?" I ask.
"Just started looking into that. If there is, I'll try to talk to them. Isn't this cool? I mean, last year they were just bodies in a car at the bottom of a pond. Now, they're real."
"Aaron, they were always real. You were just wrapped up in finding your great-uncle." I look over at Waylon. There is a strained look on his face. He, of all people, understands the pain these two men's families went through. He knows what it is like to wonder where someone is. There is no closure just a lifetime of waiting. I clear my throat and turn to Waylon. "How was school?"
"Riveting." He clips his words, but there is a smirk on his face.
"How about Tomlin? He cross the line today?"
"No. He was his usual charming self. He got distracted because his golden boy got yanked out of class and missed half of it. But other than that, he was fine."
Good for you, Elaine, I think. At least she took me seriously. "Are you friends with that boy?"
Waylon shrugs. "Not really. He's weird. Talks about comic books and anime all the time."
I nod and look at my watch. "I've gotta do a few things before I turn in. Don't stay out here too much longer." I turn to Aaron. "This is impressive Aaron. I think you're on to something. And, just an idea, but why don't you call Colleen Weaver at the Patterson Gazette. She's pretty good and maybe she'll give you a couple of pointers."
Aaron grins. "Thanks. Is it okay if I drop your name?"
"Sure. That and two dollars will get you a cup of coffee. Just do me a favor and don't tell her anything about me, um, you know, if she should ask."
"Got it."
I duck inside and watch Waylon and Aaron sitting on the porch, talking like best friends. As annoying as Aaron can be sometimes, I'm fortunate to call him friend.
***********************************************************************************************
I turn on the shower and wipe the condensation off the bathroom mirror when the water gets hot. There she is, my toughest critic, staring back at me. "You may have sealed Waylon's fate with that teacher, you know that right? If Mr. Tomlin finds out you've stirred up some mess with his good name, Waylon might as well kiss that GPA goodbye."
"So, knowing what I know, I should let him get away with grooming a kid, you know, to save Waylon's GPA?"
"You don't know anything, Miranda. You are assuming. How many times have you charged into a situation knowing only hearsay and assuming its the gospel? Too many times, Miranda. Step back. Don't let nosiness and your need to be right, be what is Waylon's undoing."
"I'm not. But Dougie said," I start but the withering look I receive from the mirror shuts me up.
"Dougie is a liar. You of all people should know that. How do you know he caught Tomlin after some kid? Don't you think other people would have heard about this?"
"Maybe I'll ask around?"
"Waylon asked you not to interfere. You did it once and he forgave you. Do it some more and if his daddy asks him to leave, that boy is gone. Be the one person he can trust."
I watch a rivulet of moisture roll down the mirror. "He knows he can trust me."
"You assume it. Don't put it to the test by sticking your nose where it doesn't belong."
I step into the hot spray and lean back letting it soak my hair. I should have asked Mirror Me, if protecting one child was as important as placating another. I think about Howard Elgin and Nathan Page. Was Nathan the bad guy? Did he tip off the local runners or was he trying to serve and protect. All we have is hearsay. All parties involved are dead. Maybe Nathan was pulled in two different directions just like me.
By GWHARGIS
So far, Miranda Jessup Buckley has been raising the son of her ex-lover, Dougie. After he disappeared without a trace, she filed for temporary custody and stepped into the role of mother. Now, Dougie has returned, and she is afraid he is back to take the boy away.
*********************************************************************************************
I get to work a few minutes early and peek through the front window of the store to find Matt and his two kids standing by the counter. My gut tells me to run, it looks like he's waiting. He's standing there, looking around, checking his watch and pausing every few minutes to say something to one of his kids. They're cute but just from watching for a few seconds, I can tell they are a handful.
I walk in and Matt's face splits into a thankful smile. "Miranda, I was afraid you were going to call out. I kind of need a favor."
"Let me guess. You need me to watch your kids for you. Something's come up and you can't take them with you."
"I need to run some reports back in the office. I was going to see if you could just hang out with them. Just for an hour or so."
"I can't baby sit and watch the counter, Matt."
"No, Rita said she would man the store while you took them for a walk or to the park. Just for an hour. Please, Miranda."
I grimace and cast a dubious look at his offspring. "Why can't Rita do it?" I ask.
Matt takes a step closer. "They would eat her alive. These two, they need your special touch, Miranda."
"You want me to scare them straight? Let's make sure I'm clear on this assignment. Blink once if that's what you're saying."
Matt looks at the children the blinks once.
I clock in and turn to the kids. "Okay, children. Auntie Miranda is now in charge. Follow me."
They stare up at me and I see the boy smirk as I walk by. I get to the front door and when I turn around, neither of them are following me. I march back and peer down at them. "Did I stutter?"
"I don't know you. I don't have to go with you," the boy says.
"Oh, you're going with me. You can either walk out on your own accord or I can hold your hand. How old are you? Six?"
"Eight," he says, indignantly. "She's six."
"She's acting older than you right now," I say. I figure if I divide them, make them try to out do each other for my favor, I'll have an easier time. "Are you sure you're only six," I say, ignoring the boy and focusing my admiration on the little girl.
"I'll be seven soon," she says, nodding her head.
"You certainly are mature for six. Do you two have another brother or sister?"
"No." She shakes her head. "It's just Daddy, Mommy and me and Randy."
"Are you sure? I could have sworn that your daddy was telling me about a little boy and girl who acted like little babies. Since, you act so mature, and I'm sure Randy doesn't act like a little twerp, who could he be talking about? Whoever it was, they threw someone's shoes in the fireplace, were jumping on the furniture. But, maybe he was talking about someone else's kids. I'm just glad I'm not having to watch those kids. I'd probably beat their tails. Sounds like they need that."
The little girl glances at her brother. She's starting to put things together. She can either act like a civilized person or she can risk being called a baby.
"Shall we go for a walk?" I ask.
"Where?" the boy, Randy, asks. "I don't like to walk."
"Most small children don't," I muse. "Does your daddy have a stroller in the back of his car? I could push you."
He frowns. His whole face is dark and unpleasant. "I'm not a baby. Quit saying that!"
I stoop and look him in the eye. "Then stop acting like a spoiled little jerk. Follow me."
I take them over to the vacant building on the lot next door. I watch as both of them try to read the graffiti that's been spray painted in random spots on the walls.
"What is this place?" Randy asks, bending down to pick up a rock. He is staring at the dirty plate glass window with more than mild interest.
"You break that window and you'll wake up Earl the cook. He doesn't like to have his nap interrupted." I put my finger to my lips.
"No body's here," Randy says.
I smile. "Throw that rock and find out," I say. "But, I'm gonna warn you, I'm not gonna stick around to save you. My butt is gonna be back in the Little Eagle safe and sound. You and your sister, y'all are on your own." I back up, looking around the side of the building. "If you want to hear a story, I'll tell you one."
I watch as Randy tosses the rock away. "A baby story or something scary?"
"Oh, it's scary." I say. I level my gaze at them both. "Can you handle a scary story?"
Both nod.
"Earl ran this place for years. He wasn't the cleanest man. Very rarely took a bath, never washed his hands. But, his burgers were delicious. People came for miles around to eat a burger that Earl made. One day, a health inspector showed up. Earl showed him around and started fixing him a burger. The health inspector watched as Earl started forming the hamburger pattie never once stopping to wash his hands. He wrote a very bad report, causing Earl to have to shut the restaurant down."
"Why didn't he wash his hands?" Randy asked.
I shrug. "Said he didn't like being told what to do. Never did it when his daddy asked him to, never really listened to his parents at all. Earl started out as a bratty kid and never learned to grow out of it. But, now, he waits in this old creepy building for bad kids to come around."
Randy looks up at me nervously. "What does he do with them, the bad kids, I mean?"
I know I'll probably go to hell for this, but I can't help myself. I look at the two wide eyed children and I whisper, "He grinds them up and makes hamburgers." I wait for the shock of what I've just told them to take full effect, then as cheerfully as I can, I say, "Ready to go back to the Little Eagle?"
They both take my hands and we walk back across the parking lot to where their father waits.
He looks at me and smiles slightly confused as the two walk hand and hand with me. "This was fun. Maybe y'all can come back again sometime."
Both look over their shoulder, back towards the abandoned burger joint. "Daddy, can we go home now?"
"Sure," Matt says.
As I step around him, I whisper in his ear. "If they start to act up, just say the name Earl."
"Earl?" he repeats, causing both Randy and his sister to clutch at him.
"You're welcome."
I'm sure Matt didn't want me to scare the hell out of his kids, but he wanted results. And, by golly, he got them.
| Author Notes | This is a tad longer than my usual post, but I never did any Halloween posts this year and the scary stuff had to come out. |
By GWHARGIS
So far, Miranda Jessup Buckley is raising the son of her ex-lover, Dougie. Now, Dougie is back and she is afraid he will try to to the boy.
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I don't hear from Matt after they leave, and I'm assuming that's a good thing. Rita clocks out once I get back from my lunch, and I settle into the evening straightening the shelves and restocking the cooler since I didn't get to do it while I was babysitting.
It's a slow night. I think maybe five people come into the store, and a few more go through the pumps. I call home to check on Waylon.
"Hey, what are you doing?" I ask as soon as he answers.
"Was reading. Are you bored or just being nosy?" he teases.
I smile but don't give him the benefit of a laugh. "Maybe a little of both. What are you reading?"
"Night."
"Okay," I say uncertainly. "Good night."
He laughs out loud at this. "Night. It's a book by Elie Wiesel. It's about a man who was in a concentration camp in Germany."
"Sounds depressing," I say.
"I think that's the point, Miranda. It shows what he went through."
I never read it in school. I don't really ever remember reading anything, except Huckleberry Finn and I heard they've banned that now. Schools have changed in the last twenty years. When I was in high school, I was taught survival skills. You were taught to count, to read, and if you wanted to go to college you were put in academic classes. If you weren't interested in college, you were encouraged to go to a trade school. But, now, the kids seem so sophisticated. It's like they are programmed to memorize but not to learn. I'm a firm believer in the school of hard knocks. When you have to figure something out on your own, it sticks with you. But then, I was never a stellar student and was glad to be out when I graduated.
"Are you going to hang out with Aaron tonight?"
"Probably, why?" he asks. "You got a date?"
"I'm about to find out. You don't mind if I go by to see Mitch before coming home, do you?"
"No. Just bring a couple of donuts home, please?"
I shake my head. "Of course. I'll be home later."
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The porch light is on when I pull into Mitch's driveway. I see him look out the front window and then come to the front door to open it for me.
"Hello, Sheriff," I say, leaning forward to kiss his cheek. "I'm here to turn myself in."
"For?" he asks, his eyebrow cocked.
I press up against him and wrap my arms around his neck. "For being too damn sexy, what else?"
"You are definitely guilty of that."
We go inside, and I snuggle up to him on the couch. "How was your day?" I ask.
A strange look comes to his face. Like he's unsure of himself. "I came face to face with a ghost this afternoon."
I pull back so I can see if he's joking. "No shit? A real ghost? Or someone from your past?"
He sits up, almost moving as far from me as possible without actually moving physically. "There are some things about me that you don't know."
My heart starts beating faster. "As in?" I ask, cautiously. "Are you seeing someone else, Mitch?"
"No, no, I could never do that, not to you."
My heart rate slows down a bit but I still feel like the rug is about to be yanked out from under me. There is a part of me that wants him to just cut to the chase and the other part wants me to leave before things get messy. "So, just tell me about this ghost."
He sighs and stares up at the ceiling. "My best friend all through high school was a guy named Marshall. He was a helluva guy, back then, straight as an arrow, hard worker, Jesus, the girls used to throw themselves at him. But he had designs on one girl, her name wasJen. She was pretty enough, but very young. He was a senior and she was a freshman. He waited for her to get through school, asked her to marry him, which she did. But, Marsh, he was obsessed with her, like to the point where he would follow her to make sure she was going where she told him she was going. He didn't want her to leave the house. She couldn't take it so she ran off, left their daughter with him. So, Marshall, he starts seeing this little bank teller by the name of Carolyn Forbes. Carolyn is much more down to earth than Jen ever was. Anyhow, she got pregnant. Marshall demanded she get an abortion, but she didn't. Well, Marshall married her, so his kid wouldn't be called a bastard. Then Marshall started to change. He started drinking. Unfortunately, he was a mean drunk. Started hitting the kid. I should have stopped him, Miranda."
"How could you stop him? You didn't know he was doing that, did you?"
"Carolyn would call me, telling me that Marshall had gone off drinking and ask me to find him and bring him home. And I would. Every single time. I should have arrested him, let him sober up before I took him home, but I didn't. I would deliver him right back where that little boy was waiting. I'd spy him, peeking through the bannister. Knowing that his daddy was gonna beat the hell out of him once I left. Goddamn it, Miranda, I should have saved that kid from the hell he endured. That's my job, serve and protect."
I reach over and run my hand down his arm. "Please tell me this story has a happy ending."
"I saw that boy today, well, he's a grown man now. Has a little boy of his own."
"What did you say to him?"
Mitch looks over at me. "I stuck out my hand to shake his and told it was good to see him again."
"What did he say?"
"Nothing. He smirked. Didn't say a damn word, then picked up his kid and walked away."
"I'm sorry."
"Yeah, me too."
We all make mistakes. Some are bigger than others. This one will haunt Mitch. Even if that boy forgives him, I know Mitch will never forgive himself.
| Author Notes | The story he tells about his friend Marshall is from my novel "The 'Shine Baby". It's available on Amazon and also in my portfolio. |
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