Chasing pearl, p.11
Chasing Pearl, page 11
His eyes closed in utter distaste. “Save me from those churlish women.” Realizing what he’d said, he let her go and stepped back.
“Churlish?”
“Sorry.” He grinned.
“Oh, I wasn’t disagreeing with you, Boston. I just really like that word. Churlish.” Her Texas twang flowed around the word and made it almost sound like a compliment. “Churlish. A churl. So, you’re dating a churl.”
“I already said, it’s not a date. It’s about a job. A position here in town, actually.” The flash of metal reflection coming through the window made him look and see the car pulling up outside. “Ride’s here. See you later.”
Chase waved as he walked out the front door.
Violet stood staring at the closed door and whispered, “A job here in town?”
Violet had to get some work done tonight. She would have put it off to sit on the front porch with Chase, but it was better if she got some words down. A scene mulled in her head, and if she didn’t get it out, it would distract her from everything else, including conversations with Chase.
After drying and putting away the last of the serving dishes from the 16-bean soup and cheese bread served tonight, she grabbed her laptop and went to her room. She took a long hot shower, working the scene out in her mind, annoyed when the real world kept interrupting.
Why did Chase want to spend time with her? Of course, if he was considering a job here, then maybe it made more sense. Maybe he wanted to see her out, and spend more time with her, because he hoped to move back here. But work was work and this was personal. He wanted to see more of her. He had made that plenty clear. Maybe this feeling in the air between the two of them really could grow into something more.
She got out of the shower and threw on an oversized T-shirt and a pair of cotton shorts. As she applied moisturizer to her face and examined the healing scar on her chin, she absently wondered if any of it would have happened if he hadn’t helped her the day a piece of debris opened up her chin. Is that what put her on his radar? It certainly made him break through her wall of preferring not to have conversations with strangers when he asked her about it.
Maybe, but she knew it also had a lot to do with the box. Their bonding actually began there.
Shaking her head, she ran a comb through her wet hair before she grabbed her laptop and settled into her oversized reclining chair. She accessed her music files, started some Big Band music, and opened the novel in progress in her word processor. With her deadline looming, she didn’t have time for reliving the last three weeks.
How many victims would this killer claim before Mandalynn caught him?
As her fingers started moving on the keys, her mind escaped the familiar comfort of present-day College Station, Texas, and took her to the mean and unfamiliar streets of Manhattan, February of 1944.
Violet let her fingers fly over the keys, letting the words pour out of her as Mandalynn Clementine took in details most people couldn’t see, as her brain processed facts and clues with inductive and reductive reasoning that wowed the homicide detective who loved her.
Mandalynn’s foot slipped on an icy patch as she walked around the alley. She paused, the toe of her brown leather boot touching frozen blood. Frosty wind stung her cheeks, but it gave a little relief to the scent of garbage permeating the air, making her nostrils curl. She turned in a full circle, looking around and paying attention to the trash cans and the dented lid lying on the ground next to one of them.
Lance walked into the alley. As she watched him approach, she saw the light flurries of snowflakes dusting past him. The ends of his brown trench coat fluttered in the wind.
“What’s cooking, Toots? You know what they call dishy dames who walk down alleys all alone in this neighborhood?”
Excited to show him what she’d found, she absently asked, “What’s that?”
“Victims.”
Batting her eyes, she replied, “Natch. So, which is it, Lance? You think I’m a dishy dame or a victim?”
“I think you’re the kind of girl my mother warned me about.”
With a laugh, she said, “I know you’re the kind of fella dad warned me about.”
“You’re dad’s a savvy guy. Just like his little girl.”
Knowing his mother ran a nursing station in Switzerland, she retorted with, “Yeah? You’re mother wears army boots.”
Lance shrugged. “Doesn’t make her wrong. Why so churlish this morning, doll?”
She waved a beckoning gloved hand. “Step over here, Detective.”
With a flirty glance and a warm voice, he said, “Give me a reason.”
“I need some shade and you’re tall like a tree.” She waved toward him again. “Use your clompers.”
He strolled toward her. “Shade, huh? Wouldn’t want you to get sunburned in this heat wave, doll. Always ready to help a damsel in distress.”
She gestured at the garbage cans. “Take a look at this. What do your finely-honed police instincts tell you?”
He narrowed his eyes, then he honed in on the dented lid and his face relaxed. He smiled down at her. “Knew you were smart. Smart and a real dish.”
Looking up at him, she put a hand on his arm. “I bet you say that to all the girls.”
“Only the smart and dishy ones. So? Ameche the boys back at the station?”
“That would be swell.”
“Yeah. I’ll go drop a dime and get some black-and-whites in here.” He started to walk away and paused and turned. “Say, it’s payday. I got a wad of clams. How’s about you help relieve me of some of that moolah tonight? We could catch a show or cut a rug. You pick. Whataya say?”
Suddenly, a door flew open. Mandalynn and Lance looked up, startled. “It’s my sister!”
Lance frowned. “You don’t have a sister!”
Violet ripped her eyes away from her laptop and saw Scarlett open her bedroom door and poke her head in. “There’s a rather muscular Army Officer slash Quarterback up on the front porch looking like the cheese fell off his cracker.”
Her mind still on an icy alley and a pending dinner date between Mandaynn Clementine and Detective Lance Peters, she frowned, “What? Who?”
Scarlett wiggled her eyebrows, “Oh, you know. Brave enough to eat in a boomtown cafe. So honest if he says a hen dips snuff, you can look under her wing for the can. Big as Brewster County. Rich enough to eat fried chicken all week long. So strong he makes Samson look like a sissy. And he is just all gussied up. I believe he goes by Chase Anderson.”
Her cheeks flooded with heat. “Oh. Oh, gosh.”
“Problem?”
She shut her laptop lid and scrambled to her feet. “What time is it?”
Scarlett looked at her watch. “Nine-thirty. He’s been up there cooling his heels for quite some time. He looks sad like Henry Ford stopped making pickup trucks.”
Violet ran to the dresser mirror and pulled at her comfortable writing T-shirt. “Aw, shucks.”
Whipping the shirt over her head, she looked for something less ratty and less ten-years old. Scarlett watched her every move. “Where’ve you been since supper, Shoog?”
In an alley in New York. She didn’t say that out loud, though. “Oh, golly. Oh, gosh.” Finding a clean T-shirt, she pulled it over her head. “Go make some tea. Bring us some tea out onto the porch.” As she rushed past her sister, she threw over her shoulder, “Please!”
Chase rose to his feet as Violet rushed out of the screen door. “Hi.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“I’ve been out here for a while. I texted you.”
“Oh.” She pulled her phone out of her back pocket. She’d put it on do not disturb when she started working. She saw a text from him asking if she was still awake. He sat back down in the rocking chair. She leaned against the porch railing. “I was working and had it on silent. How did your supper go?”
It was hard to read his features in the dim light, but what she could see looked hard, tired. “It went perfectly. I should be flying high right now.”
He didn’t say anything else, so she prompted him. “Well, why aren’t you?”
Chase liked the way she made the word “well” sound like a two-syllable word. With a heaving sigh, he rubbed the back of his head. “The more perfect it sounded, the more I knew it wasn’t for me.”
They both watched as Scarlett came out onto the porch, carrying a tray containing two mugs, a ceramic teapot, and a small box of assorted teas. Violet noticed the tiny bowl of lemon slices and another with sugar cubes. Her love for her sister expanded tenfold.
“Such a nice night,” Scarlett drawled. “Thought tea would make it even more perfect. I’ve already had mine but y’all go on ahead.”
Scarlett set the tray on the table next to Chase and disappeared back into the house. Trying to gather her thoughts and exit panic mode, Violet took her time pouring water into each mug and selected a lemon tea for herself. Chase reached over and found a packet of Earl Grey.
Another long silence stretched out between them. Finally, Violet felt like she could communicate like a grownup and asked, “Are you hunting for work?”
“I wasn’t. I like being an officer in the army. I just got to Hawaii a few months ago, and I was looking forward to another two years there. I’ll make captain and get command time if I stay.”
“That sounds nice, I reckon.” She slipped her hands into the pockets of her shorts. Chase added a slice of lemon to his tea.
Violet watched him steep his Earl Grey with practiced ease. He took the first sip and a grin began to form on his lips. She said, “You know, I occasionally enjoy a cup of tea though I’d have to say coffee’s more my style. But I’ve noticed you drink barrels of tea.”
Chase’s grin slipped. “It’s all my dad ever drank. He loved his tea”
He leaned forward, blowing on the top of the hot liquid to cool it. The cup looked rather tiny in his large hands. She could tell his thoughts had gone to memories of his father. Violet crossed her arms and made her voice sound cheery. “Alright, now. So tell me. Why aren’t you painting the town and the front porch about the supper thing? Sounds like it went real well. Isn’t that what you want”
He pushed himself back to his feet and moved to stand in front of her. “I felt restless after my dad died. I didn’t want to let him go. It was hard on me. I thought maybe a change of scenery, of job description, of military life to civilian life would make me feel better. I prayed and prayed about it, but God stayed silent. I think I came back here to see if I wanted to live here, again.”
She stared up at him. His face was entirely shadowed. “And the answer is ‘no’?”
“For three weeks, I’ve sought it out. Then we started to get to know each other, and I thought you were God’s answer.”
If the railing hadn’t been pressed up against her back, Violet would have taken a step back from him. “Me?”
He met her eyes. “Yes, Violet Pearl. You. I thought you were God’s way of telling me I could stay here, build a life here, leave the military behind. But in the car ride back from the restaurant tonight, I received an almost audible answer. As if God sat right next to me.”
Her lips felt suddenly dry. She took a careful sip of the hot tea, then set the cup on the railing next to her. “So, I’m not the answer?”
“Not to that question.” It surprised her when he brushed her hair back from her forehead. “I want to continue to get to know you, though. I want to see what this is between us.”
“You’re leaving in three—”
His lips covering hers cut off her protest. Violet gasped and started to pull back, but the hand that rose to his chest to push him away instead gripped his shirt and tried to pull him even closer. Her world began to spin, and she slipped her other arm around his neck to steady herself. The smell of his aftershave tingled her nose, filled her senses. He tasted like tea and peppermint. His hand cupped her cheek. His fingers moved through her hair and gripped the back of her head. Just when she thought she would drown in the smell and sensation of him, just as she rose onto her toes to get even closer to him, he gentled the kiss and lifted his mouth.
Slowly, Chase pulled his hand out of her hair and stepped back, breaking all contact. Violet took a deep breath and gripped the railing behind her so tightly that the pain registered somewhere in the roaring of her mind.
“—weeks,” she whispered, intentionally finishing her sentence.
“Then I guess we’d better make it intentional.” He took another step back. She moved on purpose, moving to put the porch light behind her so that she could see his face, and so shadow would cloak her face in darkness.
“What if I don’t want to get to know someone who’s leaving?”
His smile surprised her. “Then you’d better say something like that right now.”
She opened her mouth but closed it again. Chase stepped forward and slipped a hand around to the back of her neck, gently squeezing as he pressed his lips against her forehead. “That’s how I feel, too. Goodnight, Violet Pearl.”
As the door shut behind him, she lowered herself into the rocking chair. Any thought about going back to her room and picking the book back up had fled far away. Instead, she drew her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around her legs, slowly rocking the chair back and forth.
CHAPTER 8
Chase stared at the draft of the email. It felt so final, to send this off with a decline of the job offer, but he had no doubt that he had made the right decision. Still, it felt somehow surreal, as if closing a door further and further with each typed word.
His phone vibrated with an incoming text. Before hitting, “send,” he glanced over at it and saw that it came from his mother.
I’m here. Come outside.
What?
Chase bounded to his feet and automatically glanced around the small room. He thought of the stairs and knew that his mom would have a hard time maneuvering them. He’d take her into the front room, or maybe to the coffee shop down the street.
In seconds, he had the front door open and watched a silver sedan pull into the parking lot. By the time she had the engine off, he stood next to her door. Through the window, Maxine grinned and waved at him. He waited for her to unlock the door, then opened it.
Maxine slid out of the seat and slowly stood, then enveloped Chase in a hug he didn’t even realize he needed until her arms came around him.
“It’s so good to see you face-to-face,” she said. As Maxine stepped back, Chase looked down at her.
She’d cut her hair. At his father’s funeral, it had swung to her shoulders and now barely brushed her chin. Streaks of silver warred with the jet-black hair inherited from her Native American father. She’d lost weight she couldn’t afford to lose, and her green jersey dress hung loosely on her shoulders.
“I’m glad I was here. What would you have done if I’d been out?”
She shrugged and slipped her arm through his. “Waited.” She patted his hand with a mischievous grin.
Chase opened the back door and retrieved her cane from the seat. Years before Chase and Cora were even born, their mother had a bad car accident that had crushed her left hand and left leg. Over time, the old injuries had weakened until she needed the extra support, especially for maneuvering stairs.
“My room is really small and upstairs, mom. Want to sit on the porch or go inside?”
“The porch is perfect. It’s so warm, here. Reminds me a little of the Keys.” He walked slowly next to her, knowing her muscles would have tightened during travel in a way that would make walking very painful at first. He’d never heard her complain, though. Not even once in his entire lifetime.
Soon, they sat in rocking chairs on the side of the house, away from the traffic coming in and out of the front door. They could see part of the rose garden and smell the savory mingling of the fragrance of the herbs from Scarlett’s herb garden.
“I felt very much like you needed me in person after talking to you last night,” Maxine said, absently rubbing her left thigh. He noticed that her left hand, also crushed in the same car accident, no longer straightened correctly and wondered how she had managed in the airport alone. “I know it was presumptuous, but I’m okay with that. I’m your mother, and sometimes a boy just needs his momma.”
Chase shrugged, “I’ll never be a mother so I’ll take your word for it. Seems like a long trip to make on my account when the phone is closer.”
Maxine smiled. “College Station is a lot closer than Oahu, son. Besides, I was going to visit your sisters up in Amarillo and spoil the grandbabies. That’s what grandma’s do. The girls have church and husbands and things that keep them close to home and I don’t anymore. It’s been too long and life is too short.”
She looked at him, her emerald eyes shining with love. “I decided to come see you first since you’re stateside. I know I’m not your dad, but I am a good listener and I’m able to impart what wisdom I can.”
He felt that familiar wash of grief. Would it ever go away? “How’s Uncle Tony?”
“Better, I think.” She pressed her lips together, and he watched a single tear slide out of her eye. She batted it away in an annoyed movement. “I’m a little surprised, actually, that I can say that. Barry was his rock, his best friend for years before I ever even met them. I think Tony took it harder than me. Of course, his Italian blood is much more passionate than mine.” She said the last on a laugh, an inside joke that he’d heard his whole life.
“Mom.” Chase didn’t know what to say.
Maxine sniffed and cleared her throat. “I’m here about you, son.”
He took a deep breath and rubbed the back of his head. He’d need to get a haircut next week. “I think something was going on internally with me that I didn’t realize. The job offer appealed to me because it came at a time of grief. If it had come at any other time in my life when I was emotionally stable and happy, I just would have immediately dismissed it. Cora sent me an article that suggested that when men grieve, they tend to try to affect change.”
