Once Upon A Killing (A Gass County Novel Book 2) Page 12

  “So, what happened? Your jacket is dirty, and you still smell like a whiskey factory line.”

  That tugged his lips some, and a huff of a laugh slipped out from his nose, “I just remember someone pulling me up by the back of my jacket, dragging me a bit through the dirt until the fabric rubbed against the trunk of one of the large trees. I guess he tried to sit me up, somewhat. That bottle of whiskey sure made the world sound like living in a fish bowl, and it wasn’t until he squirted some ice-cold water into my face, and I even think he slapped me a few times, that he came into view. Gosh, you should have seen his scowl. You know, if he keeps that up, he’s gonna need Botox before he’s forty.”

  “Wayne, that’s not funny. You could have killed someone, not just yourself.”

  “I know, I know. I just couldn’t deal with the fact that I might have a child. Someone I didn’t see growing up, someone I didn’t ever know existed, someone who must have hated me through life and wondered why the hell I never showed up.” His hands ran down his face, leaving rosy cheeks that lingered.

  “But it would have been impossible for you to know, unless you actually remembered all the women you’ve slept with, and the type of contraceptives you were using. You put your trust in those and hope to God it works, but sometimes these things will happen.”

  “Somehow that doesn’t seem to calm my mind at all, Christine. I think I’m still jacked up on all the caffeine my body has withstood for the last few hours. Brody wasn’t even really that mad, imagine that?”

  “It’s hard to imagine Brody without a scowling face or correcting pointers. What really happened when he found you?”

  Wayne pushed himself up into a sitting position, and pulled Christine across the open gap spanning between the couch and the living room table until she found herself right next to him, leaning her head against his shoulder, his arm around her back. After a long sigh, he closed his eyes and recited the story to his best knowledge of how Brody had poured several bottles of cold water down his head, letting it wash over his face, clean off the sweat coating his neck, until he’d stomped back to his cruiser and gotten out the strong stuff he’d probably made in the morning. The hot coffee cup had warmed his hands, as the evening had chilled most of his senses, and not before long Brody had sunk down next to him just to wait him out.

  “He must have known something was up, as the regular, normal me, usually only drank in bars during the weekends, just to pick up women easier. Tonight was not normal. We both knew it. After the first cup of coffee had made its way down, and reality seemed slightly more clear, I turned to Brody, still sitting next to me, eyes staring straight ahead, dead quiet, and told him straight out that I might be the father of a young teenager who’d shown up at my house the night before. I told him I just came from three towns away after doing a paternity test, and that I just needed to drink away reality for just a little bit,” Wayne shook his head and bit off a curse.

  “Brody didn’t say much, just turned his head and looked at me, as if it was in his blood to scold me for being thoughtless when it comes to women, but he kept his mouth shut only to fill up my mug some more, until the thermos emptied out and I was able to stand and walk to my truck, parked next to Brody’s always shiny cruiser,” a smile crooked his lips and he breathed heavily.

  “He might have mentioned he was only letting me go this time because of the circumstances, and that I only had a short way to drive home on a private road where he knew I wouldn’t meet anyone. ‘Don’t worry, I won’t say anything, but make sure you do this right,’ was the last thing that left his mouth before he sat down in his cruiser, turned on the headlights to brighten dusk, and was about to slam the door shut when I called back, ‘and because we’re best pals, right?’ But Brody just pulled on his seatbelt, closed the door, and rolled down his window. ‘Sure, but even so, I can’t go around giving people I know an easier way out. I’m supposed to follow, no actually be the law, in this town.’

  “I told him he still seemed to have that stick up his ass and that he needed to work on pulling that out, and that I was going to cruise home and see what had taken place here while I was gone,” he took another breather and peeked over his shoulder making sure they were still alone in the room. Knowing they were no longer alone in the house made it always feel like another pair of eyes kept a steady watch on every move, every word, every whisper ever exhaled. “I pulled open the door to my truck and scooted onto the seat before I slammed it shut next to me and allowed my fingers to run through my hair, losing my eyes in exhaustion. Then a sudden light tap on the window made me almost jump up in the ceiling. ‘Yeah, what?’ I yelled and rolled down the window to have his cruiser turned around next to me, Brody’s face leaning out of the window, close enough for me to run my fingers down his skin should I so have wished, and then he said, ‘until you know the results, just keep an eye out, okay. If something comes up, anything really, please don’t hesitate to call. Not just 911 but my cell. I’ll be there instantly.’ That people are not always to be trusted were his last words before the car rolled up from the dirt lot and onto the highway.” Another low sigh escaped his lips and then turned to Christine right next to his body.

  “I watched him drive off until the edge of the forest ate up the silhouette of the car, and I was once more alone in the parking lot. The road home was deserted, which was fortunate, since Brody’s coffee did not completely kill off the slight dizzying buzz I still had going on, but when I finally saw the lights glowing outside the front door, and your car parked on the far end of the drive way I felt relief in it all. You being here, you being alive, created relief.”

  “It wasn’t a bad day, Wayne,” her hand gently caressed his thigh. “Awkward, silent at times, but not bad.”

  Wayne’s head turned once more, cutting off Christine’s elaboration of the day. “She’s in her room, Wayne. I haven’t heard her since.”

  “Just checking,” he said not certain their four eyes and ears were the only ones awake at the moment. He felt unsettled and he couldn’t pinpoint why.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Not that the early wake of fall was bad, it was just really cold. The autumn breeze was coming in like a storm during the early mornings, only to die off completely and give room for quietness with low sunrays spreading across the rolling hills and opened fields. At certain times of the year the valley resembled a tunnel: bringing air in from the outside, sweeping between the undulating hills, and shaking the city as if its inhabitants were dust particles inside a massive turbine.

  Two weeks earlier, the results had come back from the paternity test, giving Wayne an outright panic attack, in which he had excused himself only to vomit repeatedly in the bathroom, as it showed that he truly was the father of the girl who had crashed on the pull-out bed in his guest room for the past several weeks. Mary had done the same test, just days before and had shown nothing but calmness the night of her event. At dinner he remembered her even smiling between big chews of beef stew and potatoes. Not a sign of an upset stomach at all. That sure wasn’t a family trait, he thought, lifting a cold glass of water to his mouth.

  Two weeks had gone by since his drunken incident with Brody in the dusty parking lot. Three weeks since Christine had offered him her help, and then stayed the night. Three weeks of having a stranger, a girl, living within the walls of his house. Something he’d always told himself would never happen. One night and then out was his normality.

  Here he was, seeing Christine on a somewhat regular basis, but still not confident they were in a relationship, or that he wanted them to be something remotely similar to that, and then a slap in the face of unexpected fatherhood to a petulant adolescent devoid of a mother.

  On a night like tonight when the house was quiet and he was in fact at home, as it had been during the last three weeks since Mary appeared, he’d found himself wanting to shut everyone out only to be left alone with his thoughts. He hadn’t invited Christine over for a few nights, nor had he offered to come and
see her. Life was spinning too fast. Too fast for someone who used to be completely alone, and enjoying it. Okay, maybe not enjoying it, but it gave him time and space for the other good stuff in life, such as: beer drinking without anyone calling to ask when he was coming home, walking around the house bare-chested, and the random assortment of hot women turning his bedroom into a sex chamber. Currently, his mind couldn’t keep up with things around him, or emotions tumbling within.

  Now, lying in bed at night by himself, the sheer panic would bolt inside his head, forging a feeling of life being no longer in his control. He’d always wanted to be free, and the urge still remained. He liked Christine, a lot, but going steadier than seeing each other when off from work, or having an evening in with sex, was more than enough. Now, this brand new adventure of fatherhood had to be taken into account and he knew he was clueless on the subject.

  His mind geared toward Christine. Maybe she could help him out? But why would she? They’d been seeing each other for almost four months now, and after a few nights at his house he’d allowed her to leave a few things of hers behind: a toothbrush and a pair of jeans. More than that, and he’d booted her out the door. Literally. And even though she’d seemed okay with their type of casual dating, there was this look in her eyes when he came up with excuses of why she couldn’t stay the night, or why he couldn’t come over. This thing was supposed to be more about sex, wasn’t it? He was still focused on that part, and he didn’t need anyone telling him what to do, or pushing him around. He was still a free man, which he had put to test not only once but twice while having a drink and a chat with other women when out during weekends throughout these last four months. Somehow, he still needed to know he ‘had it,’ and as far as he was concerned he wasn’t really ‘taken’.

  * * *

  Christine usually preferred to work, or more likely, had to work, late most nights getting things ready for the morning after, paying bills, or cleaning the bakery after hours. Until that one night when he’d spotted her walking into Rick’s Pub late after work one Friday evening, and taken a place at the other side of the bar. He remembered it as one of the evenings he didn’t call her, or ask what she was up to. It wasn’t until she looked up from her glass of wine that she’d met his eyes across the mingle of bartenders walking around the open space inside of the square bar, and seen that he was there too, but not alone.

  He’d always wondered what had gone through her mind at that point, as she had just smiled at him then mouthed something down into her glass, downed her red wine in one smooth move, taken her purse and jacket and walked out the door, the same way she’d come in just minutes earlier. She’d never come over to say hello, but neither had he, when he thought of it. But this is what they’d decided, wasn’t it? To see each other when available, and leave it at that.

  That was almost three weeks ago, and he hadn’t put too much effort into anything else but the most basic things lately: going to work, getting to know Mary better, and maybe having a few beers out.

  * * *

  “Christine?” a voice said behind her in the freezer aisle, bringing her out of a label reading trance. Harold’s sure wasn’t the best of places to meet again, but then, what was.

  “Hi, Wayne, how are you? How’s Mary?”

  “I’m thinking she’s okay, but knowing it for sure is an overstatement. How have you been?”

  “Oh, since you stopped calling me, you mean? Or before that?” Her face expressionless and cold.

  Wayne looked up and down the aisle of freezers before leaning into her cart, grabbing it with one hand. “You know I care about you, Christine, it’s just been a lot lately. Work, fatherhood…”

  “Other women,” she cut him off, which caused his Adam’s apple to bobble and his eyes to look down on his feet.

  “We were seeing each other, I know that, but did we ever state that we were in a relationship?”

  “Um, yeah! When you called that one night and said you wanted me to let you try being with me, and only me. Remember that?” She grabbed her cart back out of his hands and rolled downed the aisle to open another door to a haven of frozen foods. His legs caught up with hers and with his cart he cut hers off.

  “So, okay, I did say that. And I did try. I guess I wasn’t as good at it as I hoped.”

  “No shit,” she answered and threw a packet of frozen bacon down into the cart, hard enough to rattle the metal in fear. “Move,” she demanded and grabbed the cart with white knuckles.

  “Come on,” his voice almost a whisper.

  “Come on what, Wayne?”

  His teeth chewed on the inside of his mouth. “Help me, please? Help me with Mary?”

  Christine sighed and let her head shake from side to side until she looked back up into his face seeing a man in desperation. “Wayne, you’ve shut me out for weeks, why on earth would I want to help you?”

  “You’re a woman, you know how women work. I don’t.”

  “Yeah, you’re right about that.”

  “Is that a yes or a no?” his asked her quickly.

  “What do you need help with?” she asked, closing the freezer door to save whatever food was left on the meat shelves inside the freezer.

  “She’s moody, she locks herself in her room, she takes long walks without telling me where she goes, the list of things that women seem to do for no reason seem to grow each day and I have no idea how to handle them, or what to ask of her.”

  “And where do I come into place?”

  “Can you spend some time with her? She needs to find someone else to spend time with other than me. Please, Christine. Please.”

  “Argh, alright, but just because it is Mary. It certainly isn’t for you.”

  A smile crept up the sides of his mouth, and he chirped, “thank you, I truly appreciate this. I’ll have her call you later and you can set something up. I know she likes you, so again, thank you.”

  What a doofus, she thought. A doofus I knew would come back. She watched him walk away down the aisle until he hit the check-stands and a small crowd of three lined up behind him. Rush hour at Harold’s was not a common thing and she could see a small sweat breaking out on Truly’s forehead, scanning items in a hurry as they rolled down the belt to her manicured fingers.

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Things had been hectic, especially for Christine, who was feeling more tired with each week that went by: working endless hours at the bakery and feeling the weight of a bad fall from a ladder inside the bakery one unfortunate morning. It had happened just when the school semester started and the summer air left their part of the country. For asking her to step in as another grown-up in Mary’s life, Wayne experienced a strong sense of compunction.

  As a girl’s day out, Christine had prepared to take Mary away for an entire day of guided horse riding in the hills around town introducing Mary not only to the wonderful nature worth exploring, but hopefully enticing her to further her riding lessons with Bell’s Equestrian Center, in hopes she would create lasting friendships with people sharing the same interest. But none of those wishes could yet start to form until Mary helped her at the bakery: stocking items that arrived in the early morning and had to be organized or the bakery would be a labyrinth of large white flour and sugar bags, and stacked boxes of paper goods when she arrived at her usual early five o’clock the morning after.

  Christine had been standing tall on the ladder, pushing the last bags of sugar and flour to the back of the stockroom’s loft, when she’d felt a light dizziness come before her eyes, and before she knew it, her foot misjudged the landing and the tall ladder toppled over and fell to the tiled floor in a large scramble, with Christine underneath.

  Mary had been in the front room, cleaning out the shelves on the wall of bread and cookie crumbs when she’d heard the commotion in the backroom. With Christine conscious but in obvious pain, she had run up the street only to find Wayne having morning coffee with the rest of the crew inside the break room of the fire station. Both Way
ne and Bryce had rushed down the street to see for themselves how badly hurt she had turned out to be: a lower leg fracture that needed to be set in a cast. And rest, lots of rest.

  Christine was stationed at home, with crutches and a substitute baker from a nearby pastry school had taken her place until she was well enough to be back in the bakery full-time. And every so often, Wayne would show up during a lunch hour or after work, with food or things she needed from the store.

  Mary had come by every morning, both in shame for not being able to catch her in the fall and in pure generosity. She’d made her coffee, taken trips to other cities for splurges on food and pastry items Christine might appreciate, and from time to time done a clean sweep of the house while Christine limped around on her crutches or threw them aside in aggravation and jumped around on one foot just to be able to move more freely.

  Eventually, one night after work, Wayne had stopped by and seen her through the window. He could almost feel her frustration seep out of the window cracks and how mad the crutches made her. It was palpable.

  “Stop hopping around and sit, woman,” his stern voice startled her and she’d turned around in utter surprise standing by the couch just to bump her injured foot into its corner, then dropping a round of f-bombs before her body sat down in defeat against the side of the couch. Her hand rubbing the hard cast trying to make the pain dissipate, but unsuccessful in her attempt.

  “Alright, I know we haven’t stayed together more than a few nights in a row in the past, but this,” his hand motioned at her injured ankle and the tears rolling down her cheeks, smudging the black mascara into dark waterfalls, “cannot continue. You’re coming home with me now, and you’ll stay until this damn cast comes off. Understood? No more limping around like a three-legged dog, most definitely getting yourself into more trouble and pain.”