Chapter Two

Legs weak, Meredith sank back into her chair. “Why would you think that?”

The memory of Brian’s murder and the struggle to prove her innocence was still fresh and painful. Shock waves from the previous spring’s events still rippled through her at times, catching her unawares.

He answered quickly. “I have no idea. I haven’t done anything to her. I haven’t done anything wrong, I mean.”

She heard a saying about a chill going up one’s spine, but it wasn’t until now that she realized such a thing could really happen. It was more of a prickling sensation, uneasiness rousing her body to a heightened state, and nothing really to do with being cold at all. “No, I mean, why do you think she’s trying to kill you? Has something happened? Has she done something specific?”

His eyes appeared almost haunted, frightened even. The man previously seemed more or less normal, maybe a bit chattier than usual, but she wondered if this was just one more strange country person. It seemed as though quirky people were drawn to remote locations, or maybe living in isolated areas drew out people’s latent peculiarities. Perhaps he ran around, starting conversations with strangers by telling them his wife was trying to murder him. It was certainly an attention getter. She tried to recall all that he said about his wife while she did her chemistry homework. As far as she remembered, all he talked about was that she worked a lot, liked to walk in the woods, didn’t care for his cooking and was religious. You don’t kill someone because of spaghetti and prayers.

He gave her a knowing look and brushed back a lock of greasy hair dangling into his face. “I catch her staring at me sometimes, in a way that tells me everything. When you’ve been married as long as us, you can just about read the other person’s mind. I know everything there is to know about this woman and I can tell you, she wants me gone. Dead.”

Meredith felt bad for him. But wishing wasn’t doing. She knew that well enough. Having a stranger tell her these things was disconcerting. The thought crossed her mind that this guy knew exactly who she was, and her history with a murdered spouse. Hadn’t she wanted Brian dead? Hadn’t he ended up murdered?

Anyway, the man never answered her question. The question. Had his wife attempted something specific? Meredith felt a sense of responsibility and resentment. After all, he behaved as though he were frightened. He’d mentioned the word murder. She couldn’t just get up and leave, even if she was pressed for time. In a situation like this, you couldn’t just say goodbye, nice talking with you, hope your wife doesn’t want to kill you. After all, a person was required to ask a few follow-up questions.

She tried to keep her voice steady. “You said she’s trying to kill you. What, exactly, has she done?”

He lifted his chin. She noted his salt-and-pepper hair, grown shaggy over his ears, and deep lines at the corners of his mouth. He exhibited the unhealthy, pallid complexion of someone who stayed inside all day and night. She wondered what kind of woman would be married to him, a middle-aged man who spent his time playing computer games. Wouldn’t that lead to a few arguments, a little frustration on the part of a wife, a wish for something different? It was more likely divorce, not murder, that was in his wife’s mind.

“She was supposed to fix the brakes on my car.” His speech sounded breathy, urgent. “They’re down to nothing. She drives to Blissful for work every day, so one day she takes my car, says she’ll take it to our mechanic there for fixing. I asked her, ‘Did it get fixed?’ She says it’s done; she had to stay late that day too, waiting on the car.” He paused and gave her another one of his knowing looks.

“Okay,” she responded, seeing that he wanted an acknowledgment. It seemed to her that he must have plenty of time to get his own car fixed but didn’t mention this.

“The next day the brakes are still slipping on me, squeaking too,” he said. “I took the car to a friend who knows about these things and he took a gander. Told me I got robbed. The brakes hadn’t been touched.”

“I'm sorry,” Meredith interrupted. “How does this prove—”

“See, I know the mechanic in Blissful wouldn’t cheat us,” he said. “My family’s known his family for years. I’m telling you, it’s my wife. She never took the car in at all. She’s hoping I’ll go off the road next time I have to drive down the hill.”

Red streaks cracked through the whites of his eyes. He really didn’t appear healthy at all. She wondered if there was something wrong with him and whether she should suggest he see a doctor.

He stared at her intently, like he was waiting for her to say something. She didn’t how to respond. He seemed to have a point, but it wasn’t evidence of attempted murder. She would know, wouldn’t she? There were other reasons why a person would lie about fixing a car. Perhaps the wife was busy with her job or forgot. It didn’t warrant the paranoia this man was suffering.

“I’m not sure…” she started, but was interrupted by a burst of laughter from the two women at the counter. They leaned on the counter, heads close together, clearly settled in for a long afternoon chat. Meredith’s eye caught the clock and she startled. “Oh,” she said, rising quickly. “I have to get to my daughter’s school. I can’t be late.”

“What should I do?” the man pleaded, his face turned up to her.

She shook her head. A nut job, she decided. There probably wasn’t even a wife. Hostility was probably the best choice here. “I’m sorry. I can’t help you.”

She grabbed her things and dashed out of the library, passing by the counter without a glance. Her focus on the man and his problems were replaced with worries of Jamie waiting for her in front of the school. Her five-year-old could hold a grudge as neatly as a moody teenager. Meredith calculated that if she pushed the speed limit down the mountain just a bit, there was a chance she’d get there by the time the bell rang.

****

In the end, she arrived a full minute before the final bell and was able to meet Jamie at the classroom door.

“Hey, Mom.” Her daughter struck a casual pose, hand on one hip and her head cocked to one side. Her face glowed with happiness and she seemed in no hurry to leave. “Want to meet my friends?”

School had been good for both of them, giving each a needed outlet. For Jamie, especially. Her daughter was too smart for her own good, and ready to absorb everything around her.

“This is Karin,” Jamie said as a giggling girl ran up and wrapped her arms around Jamie. “She’s my best friend.”

“Hi, Karin,” Meredith said, sparking another round of giggles.

“Come see my art,” Jamie beckoned, releasing Karin and tugging at Meredith’s hand. “My teacher said it’s very good. Bye, Karin.”

Karin ran off and immediately became absorbed into a circle of children milling near the bus stop. The shrill blare of a whistle sounded as teachers attempted to control the excited students. Inside the building, the kindergarten classroom was still and empty, with walls decorated with students’ drawings. Meredith spent the next fifteen minutes wandering the room while her daughter chattered about her day. She gave Jamie her full attention and expressed enthusiastic appreciation for her five-year-old’s crayon art of bunnies and chicks, colored a rainbow of green, red, and purple.

The elementary school in Blissful, despite its old buildings and weedy exterior, was cheerful enough on the inside. With fewer than a hundred students in the school, teachers knew the names of children in all grades. Supplies were often donated by former students, now grown and doing well in the world, who remembered the nurturing environment of their former school. Jamie called the principal a “princi-pess because she’s beautiful and kind like a princess.” Meredith was curious to meet the woman who so impressed her daughter but she hadn’t yet seen the busy principal around the school.

She didn’t remember her own kindergarten days. There was always a chance she’d never gone to kindergarten at all, what with her nomadic alcoholic mother and an absent father. She desperately wanted her children to have a stable life; one with a home, yard, and a tree swing. She’d fought hard to stay in this community and keep her house. It meant everything to her to give her children a home they would remember as they grew up. As difficult as it was to afford living in this isolated place, it was worth fighting for.

Someday her children would be able to answer the question, “What’s your hometown?” Meredith didn’t have an answer to that one, having relocated from place to place her entire life.

“We have to get Atticus now,” she said gently, and Jamie skipped toward the door. Honey insisted on taking care of seventeen-month-old Atticus on the days Meredith traveled to Twin Lakes. She was grateful, although she still harbored doubts about her friendship with Honey. There were still unanswered questions there. Regardless, it was best to stay on the older woman’s good side; being her friend was far better than being her enemy. One way or another, the woman was determined to have her own way.

“I’m hungry,” Jamie announced. “Can we have cereal for dinner?”

This sounded like a great suggestion. Cereal was her idea of the perfect meal. Nothing to prepare or cook. Just take it out of the cabinet and pour milk on top. It wasn’t the most nutritious meal to serve two growing children, but after working part-time, driving to the library and back, then picking up and tending to both kids, the days mostly disappeared. Soon, it would be bath time with the long process of getting her children tucked into bed. Who could blame her for wanting something easy to serve for dinner?

Meredith smiled. “Sure. Cereal for dinner tonight.”

****

Later, with the kids tucked into bed, she filled the small bathtub with hot water and sank gratefully and completely below the surface. She stayed under as long as she could, feeling the heat seep all the way to her bones, and then emerged gasping, hair dripping. She lay back in the water, her head propped on the rim of the tub, knees poking up from the surface, and let her thoughts drift.

She had lived in Hay City for almost nine months and in that short period of time her life had changed abruptly and completely. Brian swept them away from their life in Oakland—that noisy, crowded, busy, wonderful city—to this tiny place in the middle of nowhere. At first, Meredith hated it wholeheartedly. The house, the weather, the smallness of the town, and what she interpreted as the meanness of the people. The unfamiliar silence at night, its profound darkness, the wicked, forbidding peaks of the Sawtooths range looming over their valley. All of it, in every way, was foreign to her.

Sure, there was Curtis, the sheriff who’d become a friend, maybe even something more. There was also Honey. But both relationships were… complicated. Crusty Connery, the jovial owner of the bar and hardware store where she worked, had been open and friendly from the very start.

The worst was how Brian’s true nature came roaring out after they arrived. Emboldened by the isolation of Hay City, her husband's menacing behaviors became more loathsome every day. She wondered why she failed to recognize the abuse he’d doled out all through their marriage. It crept up slowly until one day she didn't recognize herself anymore: a spineless woman trapped in a malignant marriage. Realizing she’d never really known Brian, she began to hate him. Somehow, being in Hay City put her marriage into sharp focus, and she saw how ugly and dangerous it was. Fleeing wasn’t an option; Brian let her know he’d never let her leave.

Meredith touched her throat as she recalled his hands circling her neck, his breath hot at her ear, when she threatened to take the kids and go. She’d been trapped, unable to leave and terrified to stay. It was only a matter of time before one of them ended up dead.

It was him that ended up murdered. Because I wasn’t the only one he was mean to.

Her thoughts returned to the man in the library. That was a peculiar, unsettling conversation. He seemed honestly upset and afraid of what his wife might do. Who would confide such a thing to a stranger? He must be a local kook, she decided. There was every possibility he wasn’t even married and, lost in a fantasy game of his own making, concocted the whole crazy story. She sincerely hoped she wouldn’t run into him again on one of her days at the library.

With that, she let her mind relax and enjoy her few minutes free of responsibilities and problems. She turned the hot water on again and refreshed the tub, swirling her hand to make waves eddy around her. Eyes closed, the tension of the day melted away.

****

“I see you've taken on a bunny mama,” Honey remarked.

Meredith regarded the rabbit hutch and smiled at the black and white lop-eared rabbit Jamie convinced her to purchase. The rabbit was cute and gentle, hopping up to the door of the hutch and nudging her hand whenever she came close. The trip out to the shed to feed the critter and clean the cage wasn’t a bother, and Jamie was surprisingly responsible about giving it attention every day. The rabbit hopped after Jamie like a puppy, following her around the yard and scratching in the grass. Lately, the pet took on a roly-poly look and had its nose stuck in the food bowl most of the day.

“Jamie wanted a little girl bunny,” she explained. “She named it Grendel.”

Honey raised an eyebrow and looked sternly at the rabbit. “From the movie where kids kill kids?”

Meredith wrinkled her nose. “She hasn’t seen the movie.”

She walked over to stroke the rabbit’s nose through the wire door of the cage. She was proud of the hutch, which she’d built herself, with odd pieces of lumber, chicken wire, and a little advice from Curtis. “I think a couple of her school friends have though,” she added. “You’d be surprised what they talk about in kindergarten.”

Honey sighed, her ample bosom rising and falling. “I can only imagine.” She frowned at the rabbit in disapproval, as though these things were its fault. “With my kids, the worry was someone would tell them the truth about Santa Claus. Today, they’re talking about mass murder.”

“Oh,” Meredith exclaimed, snatching her fingers away from the hutch. “I hope not. Just movies.”

“You’ve heard the saying ‘monkey see, monkey do.’ Kids are little sponges. They do and say whatever they’re exposed to.”

Meredith wondered if she should convince Jamie to change the rabbit’s name to something less lethal. Her headstrong child was unlikely to be persuaded now she’d settled on a name her friends were talking about.

“Heard from our sheriff lately?”

Meredith fumbled the bag of rabbit food she’d picked up, then dropped to the ground. She felt foolish for being clumsy at the mention of Curtis. She grabbed the bag and filled the rabbit’s dish. “He stops by from time to time. Why?”

“Oh, no reason,” her friend said, an exaggerated innocent tone to her voice. “No reason at all.”

“Honey,” warned Meredith.

“Yes, dear?”

“We’re just friends, okay?”

The woman rolled her eyes. “I know. I was just wondering how friendly things had gotten.”

The thing was, Meredith wasn’t exactly sure. She and Curtis had settled into a routine of sorts. He would visit, they’d have a cup of coffee, and then take the kids out for a walk. He taught Jamie the names of mountain peaks and warned her of the dangers from rattlesnakes and ticks. Sometimes, he performed minor chores around the house, showing Meredith how to replace the windshield wipers on the car or installing smoke alarms in the bedrooms. The last time he visited, he cleaned out a pellet stove in the corner of the living room, removed a dead bat that had dropped down the flue, and taught her how to prime and light the stove. They would chat about her class or his job or the kids. But…that was all. Every once in a while, she would catch him staring at her but he’d quickly glance away.

There was a spark between them from the first, but of course she'd been married at the time. After Brian was murdered, Curtis questioned her as his prime suspect. It was an awkward start to a relationship, to say the least. It was true she’d reflected about the appropriate time to wait after a spouse’s murder…a spouse she feared. At one point, she told him she needed to learn to stand on her own two feet before starting anything new with another man. She was gun shy and worried about the effect a new relationship would have on her children. He respected those words, a fact that both frustrated her and made her care for him all the more. He was infuriatingly decent.

“Just friends,” she repeated, trying to keep irritation out of her voice.

In recent weeks, with Jamie in school and Atticus settled in a new routine, she debated anew whether it was fair to force one more change upon them. She and Curtis were stuck in a holding pattern for now, and she wondered if he was just as tired as she was at waiting. Maybe, for him, the spark was fading.

Haven’t I learned by now I can’t have it all?

The two women turned back toward the house, walking slow and enjoying the mid-fall afternoon. Evenings cooled as soon as the sun touched the western mountaintops, conveying a rapid chill to the nights, but the days were warm and still. Meredith wished she could hold her breath and keep the world from moving forward. Her life wasn’t perfect, but she didn’t need perfect. I could be happy in this place forever, she realized.

Honey stopped in the driveway next to her car and regarded the property. “You’ve done a lot here in a short time. The house looks better than it has in years.”

Meredith basked in the compliment. She worked hard to fix up the run-down house. She’d not only painted inside, she also ripped out all the moldy carpet and scrubbed the old wood floors. New curtains, a vegetable garden and several new shingles on the rotting roof helped make the house appear lived in. There was so much more to do. Like new paint on the outside, replacing the peeling kitchen linoleum and re-caulking the windows. She tried to ignore a strange moldy smell emanating from inside the walls somewhere, but time and money limited the pace of repairs. She’d lived in worse places. At least they had a roof over their heads. Determined to give her children a stable home, she refused to behave like her mother: fleeing each place as soon as a challenge arose.

Honey opened her car door and paused. “That bunny mama. You know she’s pregnant, right?”

Meredith felt a sinking sensation as Honey backed down the drive. Pregnant. She thought Grendel was just pleasingly plump, as pet rabbits should be. “Pregnant,” she repeated, twisting her lips to one side. “Right.”

What in the world was she going to do with a herd of rabbits?