Halfway there, p.22
Halfway There, page 22
“Keyed the hell out of his new ride and slashed the tires. Insurance will give him a check to fix it, which he’s going to use to repay me part of what he owes.”
“He agreed to that?” I said somewhat skeptically.
“We had a discussion, and he saw my point.”
Tricia cleared her throat. “She’s skipping the part where she had a tire iron and threatened to beat his face in and had his girlfriend cowering in a corner.”
“Details.” Marjorie waved a hand. “The point is, he agreed, and on my way back to my house, I stopped into a bar. Which was a bad idea. I know. I got stressed and ended up getting royally drunk.”
“Oh, Marjorie.” I sighed her name.
“Don’t say it. I’m disappointed in me, too. But I was at least smart enough to not drive, which counts for something, I hope. I spent the night and most of the day sleeping it off in a sleazy motel.”
“Wait,” I said, trying to make sense of what Tricia had said. “If you were in a motel, then how did the fire start?”
Marjorie’s nose wrinkled. “I’m assuming it’s the candle I lit in the bathroom the night before to get rid of the smell of puke. When I read the letter, I didn’t react very well.”
“I know the feeling.” The kinship proved instantaneous.
It was Winnie who pointed out the obvious. “It can’t have been the candle. It wouldn’t take eighteen hours for the fire to start, not to mention the flame would have snuffed out once it ran out of string and hit the wax.”
Marjorie shrugged. “It’s what I would have thought, too. Plus, it was inside a glass jar. Whatever the case, the place seemed fine when I left. When I heard on the radio on my way back from the city that my house burned down, I panicked. I’ve been driving around for hours worried I was going to get arrested for arson.”
“You won’t be arrested,” Trish assured. “You have an alibi.”
“Who?” I asked because Trish and I were so obviously at the scene of the crime.
“Me,” Winnie volunteered.
My eyes widened. My daughter intended to lie!
Marjorie read my expression. “I swear this wasn’t my idea, Naomi. I don’t want to get your kid involved.”
Trust my stubborn daughter to tilt her chin and declare, “Mom can’t tell me what to do. And you’ll only need an alibi if they try to claim it’s arson.”
“Which they won’t,” Trish declared. “I’ll make sure of it.”
I didn’t ask her how she planned to ensure that happened. Instead, I hugged Marjorie. “I’m glad you’re okay.” The right thing to say. I wasn’t about to judge. I was still a steady visitor when it came to dark mental places.
“I’m fine. Better than fine, actually. I hated that house, and now this gives me a reason to do what Tricia’s been asking me for the last month. Move in with her.” She smiled at Tricia. “That is if she’ll still have me.”
“Of course, I will, you idiot.” She held open her arms, and Marjorie went into them, but I still had some questions.
“Why didn’t you let Tricia know where you were, or answer your phone?”
“I forgot it at the house when I went to confront Milo. And then after, I didn’t want to disappoint her.” Marjorie hung her head.
“Shit happens,” was Tricia’s reply. “Always know you can call me. No matter what.” She grabbed Marjorie’s hands, and Marjorie’s lips trembled. It was beautiful and sad at the same time.
Would I ever find that kind of acceptance and love?
“It’s late,” I said as I glanced away from them. “What’s the plan?”
“We go home, and you go back to bed.”
I liked that idea, but being a smartass, I had to point something out. “I guess the spell didn’t work after all because Marjorie’s not in the lake.”
“Isn’t she though? I’d say the cottage is pretty close. Or maybe we did something to change the spell and it brought her to us instead?”
I snorted. “Now you’re pushing it.”
“Is it that hard for you to believe in magic?”
As I looked around at my friends and daughter, all I could say was, “Magic isn’t real.”
But dementia was high on the list of possibilities.
27
Tricia and Marjorie headed to their new home together, and I went back to bed, calmed by the glowing lines I’d painted. No nightmares plagued me and yet I woke later than I wanted to bright sunshine and the birds singing.
What a gorgeous day. However, I didn’t have time to lie in bed enjoying it. If I didn’t get moving, I’d be late for my first day of work.
A quick shower, clothes, my hair tied back in a clip atop my head. I bit my lower lip before applying a bit of mascara. I eyed myself in the mirror and wondered if it was too much. It did make my eyes appear to have more depth. More definition.
I didn’t apply any lip-gloss. Baby steps. I’d not worn makeup much in the last twenty years.
Given I didn’t have much time, I had a cup of coffee for breakfast, grabbed some precooked bacon from the fridge, and packed a salad for later.
The air held a hint of warmth and freshness that filled my lungs and spirit. With Marjorie back, me employed, and Winnie hugging me this morning and saying, “Good luck on the new jobs,” I could finally say it was good to be alive.
Damn you, Murphy, evil god best known for kicking people in the face. I should have known my sunny morning wouldn’t last.
Arriving at the gas station, I noticed Darryl sweeping up glass. The front window had been smashed, the inside ransacked.
Oh no.
I hopped out of my car. “What happened?” Maybe wind tossed a branch or a vandal smashed it.
“Nothing.” The word emerged flat and angry. He also never even raised his head to glance in my direction.
“Darryl?” I said his name with hesitation, my slow steps across the asphalt crunching.
A glance down showed even more debris, snacks that had been ripped open and tossed around and more glass. Even the smell of gas filled the air. I noticed one of the tanks leaning slightly, the puddle under it alarming, but not as frightening as the way Darryl ignored me.
“Why are you ignoring me?”
At last he reacted. His shoulders stiffened, and while he didn’t rise, he finally replied, “Why do you think, Naomi? Because helping you screwed me. I gave you everything you asked for, and this is how I am repaid.” He swept a hand at the destruction.
My mouth rounded at the attack. “What are you talking about? How is this my fault?” Then I knew. “There is no curse,” I said, and I believed it, and yet, I also couldn’t deny the destruction.
“No curse, eh?” He dumped a dustbin full of garbage into a bag and began to angrily sweep again, muttering the entire time. “I was told to stay away from you. Told you were nothing but bad luck. But being a stubborn dumbass, I ignored it. I gave you a job like you asked. Even thought…” He trailed off.
I prodded, “Thought what?”
“Nothing.” He rose with another bin full of debris. “Go home, Naomi.”
“Let me help you clean up.”
“Haven’t you done enough? What part of go away do you not grasp?” He whirled to face me, and I gasped at the bruising that blackened his eye and mottled his jaw and cheek.
“Who hit you?”
“As if you don’t know.” His shoulders drooped, a man that I’d seen as confident literally beaten down.
“I don’t know anyone who would do such a thing.”
At my reply, he snorted. “Sure, you don’t.”
The sly remark made me flash on Jace. Could he be responsible? He did call himself a guardian, but would he really stoop to wanton destruction and physical attack just because Darryl hired me?
“If you know who did this, tell me. Because I’ll tell you right now I think what happened to you is wrong.
“I never saw them. Whoever it was attacked me from behind and then once I was on the ground, I was too busy covering my head while they kicked me.” Darryl sighed. “Guess I deserved it. You made me think it was possible.”
“What was possible?” I knew what I hoped he’d say.
For a moment, those pale blue eyes regarded me, and my heart fluttered. “Doesn’t matter now. In case it wasn’t obvious, you’re fired.”
“Fired? But I haven’t done anything wrong.”
“Never said you did. But it’s been made clear that you can’t work here.” He swept a hand to encompass the damage. “I can’t afford this. If it happens again, I’ll lose my business.”
I could understand why he did it, but that didn’t stop me from exclaiming, “It’s not fair.”
“Welcome to life. It’s been kicking me in the teeth since I was born,” was his last reply before he stepped inside the ruined store.
Rejected. And it hurt.
But unlike with Martin, this time I understood why at least. He’d been vandalized because of me. Attacked and almost ruined because he’d helped me. I could understand why he hated me, and under the hurt was anger and sadness, but most of all frustration.
Why did this keep happening to me? Why was this town determined to make my life miserable?
As I went to my car, crunching puffs of cheesy snacks, my stomach clenched. Was Darryl the only victim?
Despite suspecting what I’d find, I drove into town, straight to the diner with its matching broken window and another job loss before I’d begun.
Orville at least looked sorry about it. “Even if I wanted to ignore the warning, I have no work. It will be a few days before I get this place back in shape.” Because the vandals hadn’t just destroyed the window but slashed all the seating and then emptied the freezer onto the floor.
Tears brimmed, my stomach roiled, and my steps lagged as I left the diner. My shoulders hunched, and I had to fight the urge to scream as people glanced my way and quickly averted their gazes.
A pariah in my own town. Jace was right. I should leave. It was obvious no one wanted me here.
If twenty-some years of marriage to Martin had taught me one lesson it was don’t allow myself to get beaten down over and over. Why stay and let myself be treated as if there was something wrong with me? If I sold the cottage, I could start over somewhere new, where no one blinked an eye at the name Rousseaux.
It would be easy to give in and slink away; however, since my separation from my husband, I’d discovered a stubborn streak. I was done being bullied. Screw sitting back and letting people, or even history, dictate my future. No more being attacked.
Time to fight back.
In this case, I needed to find the culprits behind the vandalism. Despite the oddity I’d seen on the lake the night before, I remained convinced that there was no monster or ancient witchy spell behind everything. In my mind, this would turn out to be just like a Scooby-Doo mystery, where it seemed supernatural, but in the end, it was just some bad people playing tricks. Find those people, bring them to justice, and the town would realize there was no such thing as a curse.
Where to start looking, though? That question haunted me all the way back to my house. What purpose was served in alienating me? Why make me feel unwelcome and targeted?
So I’ll sell my cottage.
The answer hit me as I pulled into my driveway. I stared at the hunter green roof and the rooster-shaped wind vane that I somehow had missed seeing before. Odd the little details that kept popping up, things that appealed to my sense of style, like the black shutters framing the window. I’d never noticed those either or the gingerbread lattice between the porch posts and the awning. A Victorian decoration I’d always loved, yet I could have sworn didn’t used to exist. My memory must truly be failing for me to forget, because a house didn’t just grow accoutrements, no matter what Tricia said.
I stalked inside, ignoring the umbrella stand shaped like a dragon with its mouth open wide. It sat by the shoe mat, which I remembered. I nudged off my runners and padded into the living room. Pacing, I let my brain run.
What if this was about the cottage? The property more specifically. When I refused to sell, someone got peeved and did their best to ensure my existence in this town would be uncomfortable.
I wasn’t leaving. This was my home. “I am on to you,” I declared out loud, which earned me a fierce “Meow!”
I peeked down at my kitten, who weaved in and out of my legs. “Poor, baby. I’ve been so busy stressing lately, I’ve barely had time for you.” I scooped Grisou into my arms. Never mind he’d been sleeping with me and I’d remembered the basics like feeding him and cleaning his box. A cat also needed snuggles and play time. “I’m sorry I’ve been stressed.”
He nudged me with his head.
I sat down on the floor and reached for one of his toys. “Someone is trying to make me leave.” I squished his toy, and it crinkled.
A set of ears perked.
I tossed the crinkly ball, and Grisou squirmed from my arms to chase it.
“Question is, who?” The first name that came to mind was Jace. The man with tight lips and a tighter ass. If only I could have gotten him to spill his guts last night. Alas, my feminine wiles were lacking, and I wasn’t sure of my ability to put the actual screws to him.
But he definitely knew more than he let on.
I thought of those lights the night before and the agitation of the lake. As if something rose from the deep…
“Me-uu?” Grisou questioned as he dropped the toy in front of me and I took more than a second before I clued in and tossed it.
“Jace will never talk,” I muttered aloud. But he didn’t work alone. Jace represented a single cog in the machinery of an actual company. If Jace wouldn’t spill the beans, then maybe someone else would. Like his brother.
Since our last encounter, I’d had time to convince myself that Kane didn’t frighten me. A lie. He terrified me because, despite the fact he might have done something to me, I still remembered the breathless pleasure of his kiss.
Yes, I’d lost control. I still didn’t know how, but it would be false of me to pretend I didn’t enjoy it.
Would I do it again?
I honestly didn’t know. And it might not matter since I didn’t have the slightest clue how to find him short of knocking on Jace’s door.
I’d gotten brave about many things; however, sauntering over to Jace’s house and saying, “Hey, how can I get ahold of your bother?” remained beyond my capabilities.
It was Winnie who had the answer. She walked in with a stack of letters and flyers. “Mom, when was the last time you picked up the mail?”
“Um.” I didn’t want to admit never. It never even occurred to me I hadn’t received any.
Winnie dropped it onto the coffee table and did a rapid sort. “Junk. Junk. Satellite. New windows.”
Done playing, Grisou took the crinkle ball he’d conquered to his spot atop the couch. I rose just as Winnie fired a letter at me.
I captured it and almost yelped. The damn thing managed to give me a paper cut. A line of blood beaded on my finger.
“You got mail,” Winnie announced as I sucked the wound.
“I almost got decapitated.”
“Don’t be a cry baby.” For a moment Winnie mimicked her father so well that ice ran through my veins.
Her laughter chased the chill. “You should see your face. He’s gone, Mom. You can stop being scared.”
“I’m not scared.” Not anymore. Martin couldn’t touch me now. “It’s more that I keep looking back and wondering why I was so blind.”
Winnie enveloped me in a hug. “It wasn’t always bad.”
“It wasn’t as good as it should have been either,” I said with a sniffle.
“Can’t change the past.”
“I wish I could, though.” Fervently. Not the part where I had Geoff and Winnie. I would never regret them. But I wished I’d left while they were young. Before…everything that happened.
“Our mistakes shape us.”
“A nugget of wisdom from college?” I said through a throat choked with tears.
“Fortune cookie, actually. Although, as part of the game, I had to add ‘in bed’ at the end. So it was actually our mistakes shape us, in bed.” She winked.
“Winnie!” I exclaimed.
My daughter grinned at me. “Lighten up. What’s done is done. Look at us, two single swinging gals, hanging out, casting spells, me eschewing men and you getting cozy with your boss at work.”
I grimaced. “I doubt that will happen. Not only was I fired, Darryl won’t have anything to do with me.”
“What? Why?” Her inquiry led to me telling her everything as I petted the cat sleeping in my lap.
“I wouldn’t usually give in to your anxiety, because you’ve always been a bit crazy about doing the normal stuff,” my daughter said when I was done, “but you might be right about someone intentionally trying to run you out of town.”
“What do you mean crazy about normal stuff?”
“Please, as if you don’t know.” Winnie rolled her eyes. “You always had excuses why you couldn’t go out. A headache, stomachache, laundry.”
“I always went to the important things.”
“And little else. Which is fine. I get it. I learned in college about how some people have a hard time dealing with stuff that stresses them.”
I wanted to argue and claim I never did that. It would be a lie. I’d been doing better since my separation, but it was still a struggle to go out and do normal things. “This thing with Darryl isn’t about my anxiety, though. It’s because of that stupid curse.”
She shook her head. “We both know there’s no curse.”
“I thought you were on Tricia’s side about the lake monster and stuff.”
“Because it was fun,” Winnie said with a roll of her shoulders. “But what happened to Darryl and the diner? That’s someone messing with my mom. Not cool.”
“Not someone. This company.” I waved the letter with yet an even more generous offer. The kind of money that would set me and Wendy up nicely in another city where no one would care my grandma was a witch.
