Taz
I pull the CRV along the curb in front of Mrs. Myers’ house and see the curtains in the window move.
My least favorite stop of the day, even though on Friday she was surprisingly subdued. I have a suspicion she’ll have plenty to say today. It’s been an interesting weekend, some of which I’m sure has filtered through to her. It doesn’t take much in this town.
After an interesting day on Saturday, yesterday had been blissfully drama free.
We took the dogs out for a long hike in the woods and while they were sleeping off the morning’s exercise, Rafe and I took apart the bed in my room and hauled it downstairs to the truck, before replacing it with the new bed and mattress. It fits, but it’s tight.
We drove into town, dropped off the old bed at the thrift store, and picked up groceries for the week ahead. Aside from a few curious glances—which I almost don’t notice anymore—that exercise was uneventful, although I’d hoped to run into Meredith, but she was off.
A quiet night, a thorough testing of the new bed, and a good night’s rest closed out the weekend.
But now it’s back to regular scheduling, which means Mrs. Myers is waiting inside.
“Took you long enough.”
I take a minute to take a deep breath and greet the tongue-lolling Charlton first. You’d never know the docile, friendly dog is the same one who tried mauling my arm less than a week ago. He doesn’t seem to have anything against me, just to bath time.
“Afternoon, Mrs. Myers.” I force a smile for the older woman and set my medical kit on the coffee table and fish out some gloves. “How are you today?”
I barely listen to her laundry list of complaints—only mumbling sympathetically every now and then—while I focus on cleaning her wound, and change the dressing.
“Are you listening?” Her sharp tone draws my attention.
“I’m sorry, what was that?”
“I asked you when your parents will be home? I’ve missed them at church.”
I bet.
“Tomorrow, actually. They left Kentucky this morning.” I can almost see her mind churning as she narrows her eyes on me. Before she has a chance to say anything, however, I quickly add, “Which is why I should really get going. Lots of stuff to do before the kids come home.” I quickly stuff my things in my bag, but not fast enough.
“You mean your sister’s home.”
There it is. I thought I might be able to get away without a confrontation, but I guess that was too much to ask. I could ignore her and walk out, but I promised myself I wouldn’t give her the satisfaction.
“Actually, it’s technically Rafe’s home—his name is on the deed—and I guess since I live there on invitation, it’s my home too.” I force a wide grin—determined to kill with kindness—and toss my bag over my shoulder. “I’ll see you on Wednesday, Mrs. Myers. Same time.”
I have my hand on the door before she has a chance to hiss her response.
“Shameless.” She intends the word to injure, but ironically it does exactly the opposite.
I should be without shame. There’s been enough of it loaded on my shoulders, by myself as much as others.
With my shoulders straight and my head held high, I walk out the door, not even giving her the satisfaction of a retort.
I assume Rafe is out on a call since I don’t see his truck parked in the driveway when I get home. The house is quiet without the dogs he either has with him, or left at the clinic. With nothing demanding my attention, I head upstairs to try out the Jacuzzi tub in the master bath I’ve been eyeing for months.
I spend a few minutes filling the tub with sudsy water and adjusting the jets before lowering myself in. I lie back and manage to enjoy it for about two minutes before I get restless. Not wanting to waste the tub full of water, I grab for my phone I left on the ledge.
“What’s up?” Kathleen answers on the third ring.
“Nothing much. I’m having a bath.” Knowing she would understand.
“You hate baths.”
“I know, but I thought maybe the jets would make it more interesting,” I confess a little sheepishly. “I’m a little disappointed.”
Kathleen laughs at me. “You haven’t changed one bit. Still can’t sit still long.”
“Whatever. What are you doing anyway?” I hear clanging in the background. She accuses me of not being able to sit still, but she’s no different.
“Emptying the dishwasher.” See? “Damn kids, I grabbed for a glass this morning and the cupboard was empty. Thirty-six damn glasses and not a single one on the shelf. Spent an hour going around the house with a tub, collecting plates and cups and cutlery from every nook and cranny. Jesus, some of the plates looked like science experiments—you don’t even wanna know.”
I stifle a chuckle since she was no different growing up. I clearly remember Kathleen’s bedroom looking like the aftermath of a bomb explosion most of the time. Her own mom used to be forever on her case, trying to get her to clean her room and bring down the dirty dishes.
“I remember—” I barely get the word out before she cuts me off.
“Yeah, yeah. Mom would probably have a good laugh at my expense if she could see me now.”
Kathleen lost her mother fifteen years ago quite suddenly. “Do you still miss her?” I ask, suddenly serious.
“Every day. People say it gets easier, but I think you simply get used to the pain. Do you miss Nicky?”
“Every day,” I echo, trailing my fingers through the disappearing suds. “I can’t wrap my head around how it is possible to be happy, and still hurt so much.”
“Oh, honey…that’s life. That’s adulting. Nothing is ever all good or all bad.”
“He bought me a bed.”
It’s silent on the other side. I try to wait her out, my hand reaching for the edge of the tub, holding on tight. “Kathleen?” I finally prompt.
“Wow. Not wasting any time.”
I can’t quite gauge from her tone whether that’s a good thing or not, so I nervously start rambling. “My bed was lumpy and his bed…well…anyway, I know it sounds fast, but it’s really not when you think about it. Besides, he has plans.”
“I’d say,” she interrupts, but I ignore her.
“He showed me his drawings.”
“I’m sure he did.” This time she chuckles and I take that as a good sign.
“He wants to build a new master suite. When the time is right, of course. Although that might be sooner than we planned now that bitch, Sheila, is probably running off her mouth.”
“Stop,” Kathleen orders and my mouth snaps shut. “I’m having a hard time following. How does Sheila fit into building a master suite?”
“Not the new bedroom. The new bed,” I clarify, noting that the water is getting a little chilly.
“Honey, that’s not helping,” she notes dryly.
“Hang on, I’m gonna put you on speaker, I’ve gotta get out of this tub.” I put the phone on speaker and set it on the toilet tank while I get out. “So we stopped at JB’s Beds in Mountain View…”
“Shopping for a new bed.”
“…Obviously. Anyway…” I say pointedly, trying to keep us on track while I dry myself off, “…we’re in the parking lot at JB’s, and Sheila walks out of the hairdresser’s, and sees us”
“So? I don’t see the problem?”
“Well, seeing as Rafe had me pinned against the side of the truck and had his tongue in my mouth, I’m sure you’d agree that’s a pretty significant problem.”
“I see.”
“Right? I’d bet good money that snippet of news is making its way around Eminence as we speak. Hang on, taking you off speaker.” I wrap the towel around me, put the phone to my ear and make my way to the bedroom to get dressed. “My parents and the kids are coming home tomorrow, how long do you figure it’ll take before they hear it?”
“You’ll have a week’s reprieve, at least,” she concludes.
She catches me with one foot suspended as I’m putting on clean underwear, almost putting me on my ass. “How do you figure that?”
“Saw her and Brady drive out of town yesterday morning pulling the boat trailer. Sheila usually runs roughshod over the man, but when it comes to his annual fishing trip to Roaring River State Park, he’s got an iron will. They’re usually gone for a week.”
I slump down on the edge of the bed. “Still not a lot of time,” I point out.
“Maybe not, but enough to stay ahead of the game.”
Rafe
“There you are.”
Taz’s head whips around already smiling.
I went looking through the entire house before I noticed the front door open a crack. She’s on her knees next to one of the large planters, her dreads tied back with a handkerchief, and a smudge of dirt on her cheek. She appears to be pulling weeds.
“I was going to cook dinner, but I got a little distracted. Are you okay with grilled cheese and a salad?”
I bend down and kiss her upturned face. “Don’t worry about dinner, I’ll toss some burgers on the grill. What are you doing?”
“I’m weeding.”
“That part I got,” I assure her with a grin. “What I’m curious about is what brought that on?”
“Oh.” She brushes her forehead with the back of her hand, leaving a fresh streak of dirt. “Well, I was putting clean sheets on Sofie’s bed and noticed the picture she has on her dresser: the one with her sitting on the edge of the planter in front of the house.”
“I know the one.”
“The planters had flowers in them. Gardening was never my thing, it was Nicky’s, but I thought maybe it would be nice to put something in these planters for when they get home tomorrow. How hard can it be? I noticed a garden center on the way to Mountain View Saturday; I thought maybe I could pick some up tomorrow morning. Make it look pretty before they get here.”
“I’m not sure Spencer will notice but Sofie probably would.”
“Yeah?” Her pleased smile lights up her face, but I have a suspicion it won’t last.
“Absolutely. In fact, I’m sure she’ll love giving you a hand.” At her confused expression I rip off the bandage. “Your mom called fifteen minutes ago; they stopped for an early dinner in Dexter. They decided to drive straight through and should be home in a little over an hour.”
As I suspected it might, the smile disappears.
“You mean they’re coming home? Like…now?” She immediately scrambles to her feet and starts wiping her hands on her well-worn jeans. “But I’m not ready. I—”
I grab her by the shoulders, forcing her to look at me. “Breathe, Taz. The kids just want to come home. They’ll be thrilled to see the dogs and sleep in their own beds. There’s nothing to be ready for.”
Even as I try to reassure her, I can tell the panic is winning. She twists out of my hold and runs inside, tripping over the dogs who’ve apparently been waiting right behind the door. I follow inside at a more sedate pace, hearing Taz mutter to herself as she tears upstairs. Stitch and Lilo sit at the bottom, staring up with equally woeful expressions.
I’m tempted to go after her, but decide instead to get those burgers on the grill. Maybe it’s better to let her do what she thinks she needs to do without interfering.
I get it. Things have changed from when the kids left for Kentucky in a major way. It’s been good to have this time alone to find our footing, but that’s about to change.
I suspect a good part of her panic has less to do with the kids, and more with her parents, though, and if I’m honest, I’m not exactly looking forward to that confrontation either.
“I can’t eat,” she announces half an hour later, after having taken one bite of her burger.
She came down a few minutes ago, her face washed and dressed in a navy pair of shorts and some flowery top I’m pretty sure I’ve seen Nicky wear before. Her hair is tied back at the nape of her neck and she doesn’t look like herself, but I wisely keep my mouth shut.
“Eat a little more,” I urge her, but her eyes shoot fire in response. I ignore it and take another bite, both dogs sitting in the grass, eyes glued to the food.
“I don’t get how you can eat at all,” she snaps. “They could be here any minute.”
“You’re getting worked up over nothing, Taz.” I try to be reasonable, but I can tell right away that doesn’t exactly go over well.
“Nothing?” She jumps up from the steps where we were sitting. “You won’t call it nothing when Mom sniffs out what we’ve been up to while they were gone.” She leans close and hisses, “And trust me she will.”
Right. Time to get this under control.
I get up, set my plate next to Taz’s on the railing—to the great disappointment of the pups— and put my hands on her shoulders, backing her against the brick.
“If she does, we deal. The state you’re in, I’ll be surprised if she doesn’t cotton on. You need to settle down.”
“Don’t tell me to settle down!”
I slide my hands up her neck and rest them on either side of her face, leaning in close. “It’ll be fine. Whatever happens, we handle it together. You’re not alone in this, Sweets. I’m right beside you.”
Her face softens a fraction, but she’s not quite done yet. “But—”
I don’t let her finish and head straight for the last resort, shutting her up with my mouth on hers. Her body immediately goes rigid, but with a little coaxing her lips part, letting me in, and her hands fist in my shirt.
Then the dogs start barking as a voice sounds from inside.
“Daddy! We’re home!”