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Miranda Jessup Buckley is back and in trouble again.
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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.
