Hitting the Wall: A Stonecut County Romance, page 19
“I can get that.” I grab my plate at the same time she reaches for it. Our hands graze. She snatches hers back like it burns.
My mood drops like a stone. I don’t want her to recoil from my touch. It has a wrongness to it, as much as last night had a rightness.
And not a thin kind of rightness like opening my checkbook at a charity events or putting on the uniform.
A sterner rightness. One that can stand on its own, that doesn’t need me to put on a tie and mind my language. Like the rainy night at the ravine. Folks were hurt and in danger of being hurt worse, and the right thing to do was so clear we leapt without looking.
I kissed Shay last night because she needs to be in my arms. She and Mia need to stay in this house where I can take care of them, and it’s not about guilt, although I feel it in spades. It’s not even about doing the right thing by them.
It’s because Shay in my arms and Mia safe and content has the rightest feeling I’ve ever brushed against. I don’t know if we have anything in common. Maybe I’ve gone crazy from living alone in this house with only the bat in the attic for so long now. Doesn’t matter.
I need to fix it so Shay never snatches her hand away from mine ever again. And I’m in trouble, ‘cause words are not my strong suit.
She’s washing the dishes by hand in the sink.
“The dishwasher’s under the counter there,” I point out.
She glances down and grunts. “Oh. I’m almost done.”
I shove my hands in my pockets. Mia has her critters out and lined up all nice and straight. She has the knight’s horse, an ostrich, a giraffe, and a donkey.
“Your Mama’s gonna get you signed up for school today, eh?”
Mia ignores me, and her face is impassive as she pushes the donkey over onto his side with the tip of one finger. Then goes the giraffe and ostrich. Finally, she glances up in the direction of my face as she slowly and deliberately knocks over the horse.
“That excited, eh?”
“I’m ready,” Shay says from the back door. She’s slung a small backpack-style purse over her shoulders, and she’s slipped on a pair of shoes. Not flip-flops. A stiff pair of black flats that look like the kind that hang from racks, the kind meant to be accessorized with an outfit, not for every day. Elizabeth had dozens of pairs, some still on the plastic hangers.
Shay can’t walk around town on errands in those shoes.
She’s not a vain woman. At least, not that I’ve noticed. These must be the best option.
Goddamn it. Shoes go on the list.
Maybe I should call in. Drive down to the outlets in Shady Gap. It’s only a little over an hour away. We could get Shay and Mia all kitted out.
Mia’s collected her critters, and her terry cloth pockets are bulging. She’s waiting beside her Mama now.
I barely won the argument about driving them to and from town. I’m not sure how Shay will take a shopping trip, and right now, giving her the reins seems the wiser choice.
I snag my hat from the peg by the back door and down the rest of my coffee, trying to get that egg taste out of my mouth.
“After you, ladies.”
They’re both silent on the drive into town. I spend most of the time thinking about how I can get a car seat before it’s time to take them home.
Shay stares deliberately out the windshield, and after we pass the horses, Mia busies herself with a duck that found his way into her crowded pocket.
I get the squad car detailed frequently. Drunks and puke are the perpetual bane of small-town law enforcement. Consequently, the cab smells strongly of chemical cleaner. Yet, somehow, Shay fills my senses. There’s soap and shampoo of no particular scent that I could name, but stronger than that, there’s Shay. Earthy. Warm. Real.
My cock twitches. I didn’t get nearly enough last night. I want to lay her out on my bed, take my time, bury my head between those tight-pressed thighs and inhale. Lick until I turn that heady scent even muskier.
Hell.
Even though the AC’s blasting, I roll down my window. Thank the Lord she’s staring straight ahead. My cock is entirely indecent.
I force my mind to the tasks for the day. I need to process the paperwork for harvest day. I need to touch base with Del and see what he’s dumping on my plate this week. Figure out what days I’m going to take off. I need time with Shay and Mia. Del’s troubles are going to need to go on the back burner for a spell.
I also need to talk to him more in depth about Rory Evans. I understand that he followed up, and the girl isn’t missing, but Sarah and Ed landed in my office, and with something like this, I’m going to dot the I’s and cross the T’s.
I’m aware of Del’s attitude toward the folks he calls river rats, the people who live past the railroad tracks down where the banks of the Luckahannock get weed-choked and the water runs shallow. I’m sure he did all the things he was supposed to do to close the report, but another pair of eyes can’t hurt. When I call Sarah Evans back to reassure her, I want to speak from full confidence.
By the time we hit the town limits, I’ve got my mind on business.
“You want me to drop you at the school?” I ask. “I could come in with you.”
Shay shakes her head. “The lady said not to come until closer to noon. Just drop us anywhere.”
“If you tell me your errands, I’ll drop you there.”
Shay slides her gaze out the window. “Drop us in the square.”
“There’s nothing in the square.”
It’s a rehabbed fountain from the fifties, a gazebo, and benches. There’s a view of the river and town hall. Shay can’t have business at Town Hall. It’s all municipal office space. Any paperwork a person needs gets handled at the courthouse annex.
“You gonna drop us off or not?” There go her arms. She’s folding them tight. She had been picking at the hem of her dress.
“Yes, ma’am. Where and when am I picking you up?”
“We’ll come by your office when we’re done.”
Not good enough. I’ll have no way of getting a hold of them or knowing where they are. My hands tighten on the steering wheel until my sore knuckles burn. How am I going to let them out of the car?
Panic like I’ve never known floods my chest.
They could walk away, and I’d never see them again.
I want to keep driving, but I’m at the square, and I’m not being reasonable. Shay’s bags are at the house. She’s a sensible woman. She wouldn’t leave without her stuff.
I pull over. Shay reaches for the door handle. I put a hand on her thigh.
She freezes.
I lick my suddenly dry lips. I need to say something. This overpowering force inside me won’t let Mia and her leave my sight with things as they are. Unsaid. Unsettled.
But Mia’s in the back seat. She’s got herself unbuckled, and she’s struggling to jam all those critters back into her pockets.
I take a deep breath.
“Shay,” I speak low, and keep my voice neutral. “I know you don’t want to tell me what you’re doing today. Probably because you’re making plans. You don’t trust me. Maybe you don’t like me very much either.”
I pause, but she doesn’t reply. She’s listening, though. Her eyes flit to mine every so often.
“But I need you to understand that, right now, you two are the most important people in my life. I’m going to let you out now because I have to, not because I want to, and I’m going to wait for you to come by all day, scared shitless that you won’t.”
Her gaze shifts down, guiltily.
“Here.” I take out my cell and tap a few buttons. “Just press one and you’ll get dispatch. They’ll radio me with your location, and I’ll come get you. Whenever.”
I hand her my phone. Every second she waits to take it, my muscles bunch tighter and tighter. Finally, she grabs it and slips it into her miniature backpack.
“Come on, Mia,” she says, not waiting for me to open her door. I open Mia’s instead, and I stand beside her as Shay rounds the car to fetch her. The day’s already a scorcher. Neither of them have water bottles.
I reach for my wallet and pull out a fifty.
Shay draws herself taller when she sees what I’m doing. She damn well better not be too proud to take money for our daughter.
“For waters and lunch,” I say, holding it out. She purses her lips, but she takes the bill.
“Thank you.” It’s begrudging as hell, but for some reason, my lip twitches. “I, um—I’ll call when we’re done.”
She grabs Mia’s hand and sails off up the hill toward Town Hall. The school is the other direction, due east. The shops on Main Street are due west. There’s nothing on Bell Street but the rehabbed Victorians that relocating city folk have been snapping up.
The view is killer with the river at the foot of the hill, Stonecut Farm and the mountain rising in the distance.
Does she not know how to get where she’s going? She must. It’s a small town. It doesn’t take a month to get familiar with every street, and she’s been around longer than that.
I’m wracking my brain, staring after them, when I realize where they’re going.
Some folks have put out a shingle on their gracious front porches. Bob and Sue Acheson have a bed and breakfast. Tate Alford started doing taxes from home when she inherited from her parents. And Don Prescott lives at the top of the hill. He has a sign that reads D. Prescott, Attorney at Law.
Shay’s trying to get herself a lawyer.
I start after them, driven by a wave of rage and panic so strong, it roars in my head.
The fuck she will.
An old lady walking toward me with her dog jerks his leash and swerves down another path.
I’m halfway across the street by the time my good sense has the chance to shout loud enough to be heard above the pounding in my ears.
Don Prescott will send her packing. Conflict of interest. There are only two other lawyers in town. Pam Bosko does criminal defense, and Wayne Daly is semi-retired. All he does these days are wills and the like. I’m sure Don’s farmed out some of our work to him.
She’s not going to get anywhere. Not today.
And even though I’m furious, I recognize the part I played in putting this idea in her head.
I shouldn’t have touched her. I should have stood back and let her get comfortable and made her and Mia feel safe.
And I sure as shit should have kept my damn mouth shut.
Lesson learned.
I need to go back to square one. Drag myself back to my vehicle and get to work.
It’s damn hard. Turning. Walking away from those two small figures hiking up the hill. Shay’s patient pace slows to match Mia’s short legs.
I linger in the middle of the road, hands fisted, torn.
The sun is burning away the last of the morning fog, and bullfrogs honk down on the riverbank. It’s going to be another scorcher.
A car slaloms around me.
“Hey!” I call out before Shay’s too far to hear.
She looks over her shoulders, surprised.
Shit. What do I say?
“If you get into trouble, call dispatch. Okay?”
She rolls her eyes, turns, and picks up her pace.
I go back to my car to start my day as if this is okay, as if it doesn’t feel like my heart has somehow wrenched itself loose from my chest, and I have no choice but to watch it walk away.
10
SHAY
In high school, when I worked at the diner on First Street, I’d go for a walk on my break. If you hung around, the owner would try and get in your pants. I got groped more times in the Over Easy Diner in six months than I did in my entire life before or since. It was like the name was wishful thinking, not a pun.
So I’d clock out and wander up Main Street past the fire house and the huge urns overflowing with flowers in front of Stonecut Drug, and I’d window shop the art galleries and women’s wear boutiques. Then I’d cut across past Town Hall and head down Bell Street.
Bell Street is mostly big ol’ houses with gingerbread trim and turrets with steep, pointy roofs. I’d always crane my neck to peek in the high windows and see if I could spot a ghost. Those kinds of houses.
Anyway, it’s mostly residences, but some people have businesses, and they have fancy signs hanging from the porch. Like D. Prescott, Attorney at Law. It’s been a few years, so the whole way, I’m hoping he’s still there. I don’t have a plan B.
I guess now that I have Kellum’s phone, I could do a search. I tug the straps of my purse so it’s snugger against my bag. I brought the hundred dollars just in case. Along with the fifty and the phone, I’m feeling rather flush.
And confused.
Really confused.
I’m the type who can’t stay mad or hurt overnight. I go to sleep, and whatever got me bent out of shape just vanishes as if my brain can’t hold it while conked out. I don’t forgive or forget. I don’t make a habit of deluding myself. But the feeling itself is gone.
So when I found Mia on Kellum’s bed, no more than two feet from him, happy as a clam, there was room in my heart to be floored.
She’s not that way with people. For her, it’s not fear so much as wariness, and when that wears off, it’s lack of interest. People just don’t do it for her. She likes animals.
But she does like Kellum. As much as I’ve ever seen her take to a person. Maybe it’s a case of like calls to like.
There’s a niggling at my heart. I ignore it and plow ahead. This dress itches like crazy. My feet hurt, and they’re already sweating, so I’m slipping around in the soles, giving myself blisters. My forehead aches like I tied my ponytail too tight.
It doesn’t matter that Mia’s taken to Kellum. That’s fine. It’s good even. I’m not taking her away; I’m just looking for help so I don’t need to rely on him.
He might be fine for her, but he’s not for me. I’m the teenaged slut who lured him into temptation. That’s not firm ground for a person to be on. I paid attention in English class. There’s nothing but trouble for that girl.
Anyone in my position would get a lawyer. Mama would have already speed-dialed those men from TV. Gillespie and Fox: If You Have a Case, You Have an Attorney.
Close to the top of the hill, I stop in front of a dusky blue Victorian with red shutters. My chest loosens as I catch my breath. The sign’s still there.
I take a minute and wipe the sweat from my forehead. Damn, but it’s as hot and muggy up north as it is back home.
I squeeze Mia’s hand. “This won’t take long. Promise.”
She’s taking it all in. The flower beds with begonias and dahlias and snapdragons of every color of the rainbow. The weathervane on the roof with the rooster.
“Big house, eh?”
I square my shoulders and make sure my bra straps aren’t showing.
“Let’s do this.”
I lead Mia up the steep steps to the wide porch. The shade is a relief.
There’s a sign that says “Ring for Entry” next to a button. I do. I can hear the buzz through the storm door. They’ve got the other door open, so I can see into a hallway with a fancy, gold-framed mirror and marble table at the end, and I can see an older woman emerge from a room and shuffle over to let us in.
She’s Mama’s age, but she’s wearing an expensive-looking mauve suit with a pencil skirt and jacket with shoulder pads. Her hair is dyed blonde. Her roots are showing gray.
She cracks the door.
“No solicitation.”
Well, crap. That’s how this is going to go.
“Ma’am, I’d like to talk to Mr. Prescott. The lawyer.”
She scans me head-to-feet as if she hasn’t already taken a long gander on her way to the door.
“You don’t have an appointment.”
“No, ma’am. But I would like to set one up. Is he here?”
“What is this in regards to, please?”
“It’s a personal matter. Should I call to set up an appointment?”
“That would probably be best, Ms.—?” She’s looking down her nose so hard her eyes are nearly crossed.
“Shay Crowder.”
Her brow furrows. You can see the wheels turning in her brain. “Are you related to Buck Crowder?”
“Yes, ma’am. He was my grandfather.”
The hostility falls from her face like a curtain. It’s not replaced by friendliness, exactly, but she can place me now.
“My condolences. Buck went to my church.”
“Stonecut Methodist,” I supply. I went with him on occasion. I don’t remember her, but I never paid much attention during services.
She nods, and her gaze lowers to Mia. She flashes a fake smile. “And who is this? Buck’s great-grandbaby?"
“Yes, ma’am. This is Mia.”
“Hello, Mia!”
Mia studies at her feet in silence.
The woman glances at me expectantly. I know I’m supposed to force Mia to use her good manners and respond, but first off, Mia just won’t, and secondly, the lady didn’t bother to use her good manners when she answered the door, so now we’re even.
The woman’s lips thin. She seems to consider for a moment before she opens the door wide.
“Mr. Prescott happens to have a light morning. Come on in. I’ll see if he can squeeze you in.”
A blast of air conditioning hits me in the face. Sweet relief. I follow with alacrity, basking in the cool. The place smells like old things, but you can tell they’ve got help cleaning. Every surface shines. They’ve put money into the place. While the lighting fixtures and molding look antique, the carpet is unworn and the paint is fresh.
This is a very Stonecut place. It looks quaint and homey, but it’s a front. Like the cozy lodge that’s bigger than the Holiday Inn back home.
“You can wait in here.” The lady gestures to a converted parlor that overlooks the porch. “I’ll see if Mr. Prescott can see you.”
The couch is fancy leather with wood arms and feet. Mia and I take a seat. It’s slippery. Mia manages to slide onto the floor a few times for fun before I give her a look.
Based on the lady’s general snobbishness, I figure we’ll be waiting a long time, and I’m not optimistic that we won’t be sent on our way in the end. Yet, no more than a minute later, an older man strides into the room, arm extended.
