The Lakeland Series, page 65
Sensations rushed into Bobby’s heart -- too many to name. At his side, Abbie slipped her hand into his.
Bobby didn’t look at her, but he clung to her hand. He was squeezing so tightly it hurt. It made Abbie realize just how much turmoil he was feeling inside.
“What is that?” Abbie asked, frowning at the tent curiously.
“C’est un journal de sympathie!”
At the sound of the woman’s voice, Bobby released Abbie’s hand. Surreptitiously, she rubbed at the marks his fingers had left behind, trying to bring circulation back into her hand. When she turned around, she saw her grandparents walking with an older couple. The woman who had spoken had tears running down her cheeks. She stopped walking and turned into the man at her side. His arms went around his wife, and she buried her face into his chest. Seeing their grief hurt Abbie’s heart.
“What is it?” she asked Bobby, but it was Sabine’s father who answered.
“A sympathy journal. An old French custom. For the family of the dead.”
“I know about this,” Charles said. “The family pins a journal to the doorway and friends come and write their condolences. It allows the family time to grieve without having their privacy trampled.”
“Oui, but, we still get to share our sympathies.”
Abbie turned to see Ann-Marie and Gina walking over. Behind them, more of the pickers were heading their direction. As she watched, Ann-Marie took Gwen Lefrescue’s hand in hers, and began speaking to Sabine’s mother in rapid French. Soon, Sabine’s parents were surrounded by the group of fruit pickers. There were hugs and tears and it was apparent that whatever was being said had meaning to the Lefrescues. The sight made Abbie’s eyes feel misty, so she turned back to the tent.
It was covered in little notes which had been clothes-pegged to the canvas. Bobby had stepped nearer, and his hand caressed the front flap which was the door of the tent. Abbie had a feeling his eyes were full of tears, too. She turned to look at her grandparents.
“Do you have a pen?”
When Charles reached into his pocket and handed Abbie a pen, she stepped closer, found a note with some room at the bottom, and added her own thoughts. Then she turned to Bobby and held out the pen.
“Do you want to?”
He wrenched his eyes from the tent to look at Abbie. His expression was fierce, and Abbie thought, furious. Instead of reaching for the pen, he pressed Moxie’s leash into her hand. Then he took off.
“Bobby,” Abbie called after him. He didn’t look back. When Abbie turned to Elizabeth, she simply shook her head.
“Let him go, Abigail.”
Her heart ached. Standing there holding a dead girl’s dog, Abbie watched her friend’s back until he disappeared from sight while the little gathering of people crowded around her, pushing her and Moxie Mutt back from the tent.
Abbie didn’t see Bobby again until the funeral five days later.
She knew her mother had stopped by the De Luca’s place, taking Moxie with her. Her mom hadn’t said what happened there, and Abbie hadn’t wanted to ask, but Moxie hadn’t returned with Colleen when she came home.
While mom had been gone, Drew had cooked. He made some sort of stir-fry thing with Asian noodles and vegetables and cut up chunks of steak.
“Dude, this is surprisingly lit.”
“Lit? Abbie, I haven’t got your mom here to translate. Is ‘lit’ good?”
Abbie rolled her eyes. Then she laughed, and it felt good.
“Well, I’m eating it,” she said, and grinned at him.
“High praise,” Drew said dryly, and Abbie grinned again and nodded, mouth full, then slipped a sliver of steak under the table to Sylvester.
“So,” Drew said, “We need to talk.”
She slanted him a sideways look.
“About?”
“Ground rules.”
“For who?” Abbie said, her raised brows daring him to go there.
“For both of us, I guess,” Drew said, not rising to the bait. When Abbie lay down her fork, he knew he had her attention. “First, I know you lied to me when you said you had seen Bobby with Sabine.”
“What?” She looked surprised, and Drew could see her considering her options. Then she nodded. “Sorry. Bobby was in trouble. I wanted to help.”
“I know that.”
“How did you know?” Abbie asked, confusion scrunching up her face.
Now Drew laughed. “Uh, trained investigator here,” he said, tapping his chest. He grinned at her. “Plus, you’re a terrible liar.”
She frowned, not certain if she was being insulted or complimented. Then a thought occurred to her.
“So, what does a trained investigator look for when he’s spotting a lie?”
“Oh no.” Amused, Drew shook his head. “This conversation is not about giving you better lying skills.” When Abbie grinned, Drew rolled his eyes. “You are definitely your mother’s daughter, kid.”
She gave him a full smile then. “Well, what did you expect?”
Drew grunted. “The thing is, Abbie, lying to me is one thing. That’s going to get you busted every time, and grounded, or… how does your mom punish you, anyway?”
“Sadistically,” Abbie said, smiling sweetly. “Besides, if you’re not going to teach me how to lie, I’m sure not gonna teach you how to punish a teenager.”
“Fair enough.” Drew grinned, realized it wasn’t just Colleen he loved. He’d fallen for her sweet and sassy daughter, too. “Anyway, as I was saying, lying to me will get you punished. Lying to a cop, though, that’s illegal, Abbie.”
She froze, considered. “I guess that made you pretty mad.”
“It didn’t make my day. Look, this time you lied to me when I was asking as your mom’s fiancé. But there will be times when I could be asking as a cop. And you did lie to Grisham. That’s serious, Abbie. It can’t happen.”
She nodded. “Okay. I get it.” Then she looked him in the eye. “Sorry, dude.” She thought a moment. “So, those are my rules? What about you – what are your rules?”
Drew hesitated. “Well, I’m not your dad. I want you to know I understand that even though I’m still going to be the adult man in your house.”
“How is that a rule, dude?”
“It’s… it’s an understanding between us. I know it’s going to take some time for us all to get used to living in the same house. You’re a great kid, Abbie. I love your mom, you know that, and I know that you’re making room for me not just in the house but in your space with her. I need you to know I will remember that. I will treat you with the respect that deserves.”
“Okay,” Abbie nodded. “So, the rules are, you love mom, and we respect each other?”
“Can you think of a better place to start?”
She blinked. It surprised her to find her heart aching slightly. Drew was an honest, upfront guy. His rules, if that’s what they were, made sense. So, she wasn’t totally sure what it was she wanted from him.
“Seems fair,” she said, finally.
“Good,” Drew said. “And Abbie, I don’t just love your mom. I love you, too. I’m kind of hoping someday you’ll feel the same.”
She blinked again, felt the chill leave her heart and warmth fill it instead.
“I guess you’re okay, dude,” she said. Then, because she’d totally embarrassed herself, she stood.
“I’m gonna go to my room.”
But she hugged him when she left, and awkward as it felt, it felt kind of great, too.
Now, she sat between Drew and her mom. The black sweater she wore was itching her neck, and her skirt kept riding up way too high. Even though she looked, she didn’t see Bobby anywhere, and the priest kept droning on in a language she didn’t understand.
She’d never been to a Catholic church before, and she’d only ever been to one funeral. That had been when Ben Klassen’s car had been hit head-on by a logging truck a month before Ben was supposed to graduate. His memorial had been held in the school gymnasium, and practically everyone in town had shown up. At Ben’s service, all she remembered was crying through the tributes Ben’s friends and teachers had given – even though she’d barely even known him.
This was nothing like that.
This was sort of like church, if church was all in a foreign language. Even though she’d kind of known Sabine, the whole thing was just too formal for tears. She followed her mom and Drew to the front of the church. There, she followed their lead and took communion. Since she had no idea how the pattern went, she didn’t make the sign of the cross but just quietly followed Drew’s lead back to her seat.
While walking, she finally caught a glimpse of Bobby. Her breath caught at the sight of him. He looked so tragically handsome in his black suit. She wanted to go to him, and she didn’t even really understand why. It just felt like they’d been through this experience together. She felt close to him, somehow.
He was sitting near the middle of the church with the rest of the De Luca family. On one side sat his father. On the other, Isaac, the family patriarch, sat with his arm resting behind his eldest grandson’s back. He was looking straight ahead. If he noticed when Abbie passed the row of pews where the De Luca’s sat, he gave no sign.
Normally, Abbie had been told, mass would be followed by the committal of the body at the cemetery. Since Sabine’s parents were taking her body home to be buried in Quebec, that wouldn’t happen here. Instead, after communion people all headed back to Zara.
Her grandparents had put on a spread, and people ate and drank for hours. It was loud and the heat of so many bodies felt suffocating to Abbie, so she stepped outside. Next thing she knew, she was down near the pickers’ tents.
Things were different down here. She could hear the sounds of a guitar and singing, and when she got closer, she gasped. People were dancing and drinking, and in the shadows there was more than one pair of people coupled up.
“Now this is a funeral Sabine would have enjoyed.”
Abbie yelped and whirled around. Bobby was standing in the shadows to her right. He still wore the black suit, but now his tie had been tugged loose and the top button of his white dress shirt was undone. He held the neck of a beer bottle between his fingers, and as Abbie watched, Bobby lifted the bottle to his lips and drained it in one long sip.
Abbie waited for her heart to stop hammering. Before she could speak, though, Bobby beat her to it.
“I’m leaving.”
“Okay.”
“Going away,” he said, as if she hadn’t spoken.
“Okay,” she said again. Then Bobby looked sideways at her, and their eyes held. His were bloodshot and full of pain. He thought hers were full of pity.
Pitching his bottle into the night, Bobby broke eye contact and wandered away.
It felt good, lying in Drew’s arms in the dark. Her body was still humming from his touch, her heart rate still elevated. The need to remind themselves that they were alive after being witness to the grief remaining after death had been met.
“I spoke with Bonnie this evening.”
“Mmmm.”
“Did you know Sabine’s parents have asked Bobby to visit them in Quebec?”
“Is he going to go?”
She shifted in Drew’s arms and lay the flat of her hand on his shoulder.
“Wouldn’t you?”
He grunted, kissed the back of her neck.
“Nothing could stop me.”
“Don’t ever die,” Colleen said, her fingers squeezing his shoulder.
Drew kissed the hollow above her collarbone. “I’ll do my best.”
“Promise me.”
“Collie.” He kissed her again then pulled her closer, spooning himself around her body. “I would if I could. But the only way I know to live forever is to make a child.”
She went still, her breath catching. “What are you saying? Are you asking if I want to make a baby with you?”
“We’ve never talked about it.”
“Okay,” she turned in his arms so she could face him, “Let’s talk.”
Book Four
The Merry Kind of Things
The Merry Kind of Things
Book Four in the Lakeland Series
By Leigh Macfarlane
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is strictly coincidental.
THE MERRY KIND OF THINGS
Copyright © 2020 Leigh Macfarlane
All Rights Reserved
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner without written permission of the copyright owner except for the use of quotations in a book review.
First Edition November 2020
ISBN: 978-1-9991062-6-3
Published by LMCreative
British Columbia, Canada
Contents
Chapter Ninety-Nine
Chapter One Hundred
Chapter One Hundred-One
Chapter One Hundred-Two
Chapter One Hundred-Three
Chapter One Hundred-Four
Chapter One Hundred Five
Chapter One Hundred Six
Chapter One Hundred Seven
Chapter One Hundred Eight
Chapter One Hundred Nine
Chapter One Hundred Ten
Chapter One Hundred Eleven
Chapter One Hundred Twelve
Chapter One Hundred Thirteen
Chapter One Hundred Fourteen
Chapter One Hundred Fifteen
Chapter One Hundred Sixteen
Chapter One Hundred Seventeen
Chapter One Hundred Eighteen
Chapter One Hundred Nineteen
Chapter One Hundred Twenty
Chapter One Hundred Twenty-One
Chapter One Hundred Twenty-Two
Chapter One Hundred Twenty-Three
Chapter One Hundred Twenty-Four
Chapter One Hundred Twenty-Five
Chapter One Hundred Twenty-Six
Chapter One Hundred Twenty-Seven
Chapter One Hundred Twenty-Eight
Chapter One Hundred Twenty-Nine
Chapter One Hundred Thirty
Chapter One Hundred Thirty-One
Chapter One Hundred Thirty-Two
Chapter One Hundred Thirty-Three
Chapter One Hundred Thirty-Four
Chapter One Hundred Thirty-Five
Chapter One Hundred Thirty-Six
Chapter One Hundred Thirty-Seven
From the Author
Contact
About the Author
Dedicated to all the dog lovers out there.
May all your fur babies live long and healthy lives full of sticks to chase, holes to dig, and people to love.
-Leigh
Chapter Ninety-Nine
“Money. In the bag.”
Sunny looked at the Value Foods label on the grey plastic bag the man in the mask was holding and felt the hysteria bubble up in the back of her throat. She had a well-known and predictable response to fear -- laughter -- and she was fighting against the urge now. In fact, she was swallowing down the laughing impulse so harshly that it felt as if her throat was being scalded by acid.
He wasn’t a huge guy, and he was wearing a wrestling mask which made him look just plain ridiculous and not scary at all. But the gun he was holding in his hand and pointing her direction was absolutely massive and completely terrifying. Maybe if she kept her gaze on that and didn’t let herself think about the fact that someone who bought bargain store groceries was currently robbing her place of business, she could beat the laughter back.
Or, she thought as the first high-pitched giggle choked out of her, maybe not.
Working here at the liquor store attached to Brandi’s pub was just a part-time put-me-through-school kind of job for Sunny. Not even a little bit worth dying for. Still, there was no way she could give the man what he wanted.
“What, are you deaf? I said, money in the bag!”
“I-I-I can’t,” Sunny hissed from behind the gales which wanted to erupt. A snort escaped from her nose, and she knew she was minutes if not seconds away from losing it completely. “The t-t-tills don’t open unless you make a payment.”
The man shook his masked head slightly as if this was the most ridiculous thing he’d ever heard, then he pulled a wallet out of his jeans pocket. Flipping it open, he pulled out a ten, then grabbed a sample-size bottle of Van Gogh Vodka from the counter where they were stacked.
“Here,” he said, “Ring this up.”
Sunny did as she was told, her fingers trembling as she reached for his ten. The laughter was coming, she could feel it tickling her uvula, could taste it on the surface of her tongue.
But, come on. She was counting out change for an armed robber. This was too much.
“Thanks,” he said, when she handed him a fistful of change, then dropped the vodka bottle into the bag along with his receipt. “Now the money.”
She lifted the cash drawer right out of the till, and that was when she lost the battle. Her shoulders started to shake, and the first rasp of sound escaped her lips as she dumped the drawer’s contents into his bag.
The ten-dollar bill he’d handed her missed and floated free to the floor. Her eyes started to water and twitch, and a sharp bark belted from the lips she’d clamped together.
When mask-dude went down on one knee, gun still aimed on her, and started patting around the floor to locate the fallen bill, she lost the battle. Air rushed past her throat with force she couldn’t tamp down, and a crack of laughter burst from her lungs. The roar of laughter which followed was loud, and endless, and had tears rolling down her cheeks as she clutched at her sides.
