Chicken Culprit

by Vikki Walton

  When everyone had settled back down, Kandi brought the group to order.

  After much staring in Anne’s direction, a woman had excused herself and gone out toward the kitchen.

  “Listen, we need to discuss who is going to do what, what types of events and presentations we’re going to have, and—”

  A woman’s squeal stopped Kandi from continuing.

  “I knew it. I knew it was you!” The woman’s excitement gathered steam as she addressed Anne.

  “What do you mean, Velma?” Kandi looked back and forth from the woman to Anne.

  Oh no. Anne focused intently on her lap.

  “It’s her! Caroline Tenet!” She pointed to her iPad screen. “I just had to check for sure. Oh, I’m so excited. A celebrity in our town!”

  “Her name is Anne Freemont,” Kandi retorted.

  Velma ignored her. “If I go get my book, will you sign it?” She didn’t wait for an answer but burst out the front door. The sound of a car starting up could be heard.

  Everyone stared at Anne.

  Suddenly Kandi’s eyes came into focus as her mind made the connection. She stared at Anne. “You’re the author of all those homesteading books?” Her hands shook.

  “Who is she?” Stanley leaned toward his wife. “A book writer.”

  “Oh, is that all? Jimmy crack corn,” he sniffled.

  “Not just a book writer.” The anger could be heard in Kandi’s voice. “She’s like the queen of homesteading. She has a huge farm in Virginia.” Her voice was shaking. Vitriol poured from her. “What? Are you doing, like, research for another book? Is that why you’ve changed your appearance?”

  “No. No, you have it all wrong.” Anne moved toward Kandi. The group looked on in ponderous anticipation.

  Kandi ran from the room and up the stairs.

  “Excuse me.” Anne followed Kandi. The buzz of the group’s voices followed her.

  Upstairs, Kandi ran into a room. Off to the other side, Jeff sat in his office. On seeing Anne, he mouthed, Good riddance and shut his door.

  Jerk. I’d like to bean you over the head.

  Anne knocked on the door. “Kandi, please, let me explain.”

  “Go. Away.”

  “Look, I’m sorry. It’s not that I was hiding…okay, so yes, I wasn’t telling anyone about who I was, but I was doing it for a reason. Please, let me…”

  The door opened. Kandi appeared smaller somehow, and her face was blotched red from crying. “You must have been laughing the whole time. Every time I said something about my chickens, or the gardens, or anything, you must have had a good long laugh.”

  “I didn’t. Yes, I already knew much of what you shared, but I wasn’t trying to be mean. I just needed time.”

  “Time? Time!” Her voice squeaked, as it rose. “For what? To let me make more of a fool of myself? Me thinking I was helping you, and all the time you’re an expert.”

  “You were—are helping me. Please, Kandi, forgive me. I’m sorry.”

  “You’re all alike. I hate you!” She slammed the door shut.

  Anne raised her hand to knock again, and then let it drop instead. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

  Anne trudged down the stairs. While she’d hoped to avoid the group, they were now in the kitchen. Some were washing dishes, while others dried them. Another group stood out on the porch. Heads turned her direction. No one spoke. She pulled her tweed coat from the hook by the door and, without making any eye contact with anyone, headed out the door.

  So much for a new start.

  Chapter Twelve

  In the first few days following the announcement, Anne had kept to her house. She discovered that she’d become the star of the town newspaper with a front page headline, CELEBRITY UNCOVERED IN CAROLAN SPRINGS.

  She could only hope and pray the people driving by her house and pointing would soon stop. Why had she thought that a change in appearance and returning to her maiden name would provide enough privacy?

  Yet, what hurt worse than the media attention was the rift between her and Kandi. How had this silly girl come to mean so much to her?

  Trying her best to stay away from any cameras or the media, Anne had used the privacy afforded by Ralph’s property to go to Kandi’s when cabin fever struck. Sadly, Kandi wouldn’t answer the door. The last time, she’d been met by Jeff at the back door who informed her with glee in his voice, “Kandi doesn’t want to see you.”

  Anne couldn’t hide forever. She would have to go back out into the world. Plus, she wanted to visit Eliza again. Gathering her hair up into a hat and putting on a pair of Ray-Bans, she headed for the detached garage. She opened the garage door. Inside the musty shed, she climbed into the old pickup she’d purchased before moving to the Springs. Taking in a deep breath of courage, she drove the truck down the drive.

  A few people loitered by the curb edge, but another van with a large national logo now sat there also.

  Oh, no. Not mainstream media.

  She sighed deeply. Better to get it over with now.

  She shifted the truck into park and got out. Walking briskly toward the assembled group of local media, onlookers, and the larger van, she kept her head up and shoulders back. The professionals quickly eclipsed Sally, the town paper’s junior reporter, with their barrage of questions.

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” Anne said. “I’ve only got a short amount of time to respond to a few questions. Sally, what can I answer for you?”

  A microphone was thrust into Sally’s face by the reporter from the larger conglomerate.

  “Um, um,” Sally stuttered, obviously realizing she’d just become part of the story. “Ms. Freemont, why did you choose Carolan Springs?”

  “Great question, Sally.” Anne smiled at the young woman.

  Sally turned and beamed at the photojournalist’s camera.

  “I wanted to find a place full of great people, and I did that in discovering Carolan Springs. It’s one of the best towns in this country. I would like—”

  The national reporter cut her off. “Ms. Freemont, is it true that your divorce caused you to have a breakdown?”

  Another reporter picked up the thread. “Did you move here because you couldn’t handle city life?”

  Anger rose as acid in her throat. Don’t let them goad you, Anne.

  She smiled. The fake sentiment came surprisingly easy, with as much practice as she’d had with her ex-husband. “As to your question, I think what you meant to say is that I had a break-out. People who have read my books will understand my desire to get back to a simpler life.” The reporter from KBC jostled for a better position.

  “So there’s no truth to the rumor you’re upset over Senate candidate Duke Tenet and his wife’s announcement?”

  “Announcement?” Shoot. You goofed. Now you’ve opened the door.

  “Yes, her pregnancy.” The woman leered. “They’re expecting a baby.”

  “Well I, I …” she stuttered, “I obviously didn’t know, as I do not keep up with their lives.” Anne struggled to make her voice light. “But a hearty congratulations to them.” She gritted her teeth and smiled.

  Sally had finally found her voice again and thankfully changed the subject. “Ms. Freemont, are you planning on writing any more books?” She preened for the cameras, flipping her blond hair over her shoulder.

  Memories fought to the surface as Anne pushed them down. She struggled to talk as she took in what the journalist had said. Breathe. Breathe. Her chest felt heavy and she could feel her cheeks flushing. She took a deep breath. “I have my hands full now with the restoration of my house, but who knows—”

  The woman from KBC cut in, not satisfied with the less sensational tone the conversation had taken. “I heard you were on the scene of a murder and actually know the murderer.”

  “I don’t know any murderer. The woman accused of the crime is a wonderful young lady who was in the wrong place at the wrong time. I’m sure she will be fully vindicated. The town is mourning o
ne of its longtime residents.” She stared pointedly at the woman. “The town needs space to grieve.”

  The reporter took up the scent. “Did you move here to grieve the loss of your marriage and upper-class lifestyle?”

  “No. I…” Be careful, remember the NDA. “I have no further comments. I must be going.”

  She turned and headed back to the truck. Cameras flashed around her as she exited the driveway. She fought her desire to run over the entire group. As she headed out on the road to town, her body shook. Anne checked her mirror to make sure no one had followed her. The memories and emotions she’d fought for so long now came in wave after wave. Her hands began shaking so she pulled over to the side of the road and shut off the truck.

  Only then did she allow the deep sobs to come.

  Eighteen years ago.

  Her first meeting with Robert Duke Harrison Tenet. A whirlwind engagement had led to an extravagant wedding. Soon enough Duke charmed his way into a partnership with a prestigious law firm. However, Duke’s long days spent working on litigation left Anne with lots of free time. On a whim, she’d attended a lecture on the growth of local food and the rise of urban homesteaders and backyard farming.

  She’d fallen in love with the idea of “country living in the city.”

  Before she knew it, they’d bought a second house in the country and she was writing about all things associated with backyard farming. As Duke spent more time away, Anne focused on writing. She chose a tongue-in-cheek pseudonym of Anne Tenet. Duke had no idea it was because she felt like Marie Antoinette on her little farm, pretending to live a different life. Later, her publisher had suggested Caroline Tenet—a combination of her first and middle names.

  But as years crept by, Anne’s internal clock ticked louder and louder. She desperately wanted to become a mother. Duke would convince her to wait ‘just one more year.’ It had been after another dinner that she had brought it up once again. “Duke, I’m in my late thirties. Time’s slipping away.”

  “No need to rush.” He focused on a text from his phone.

  “Well, actually, there is. I’m pregnant.” She laid her hands on her stomach.

  Startled, he looked at her with a shocked gaze and said nothing. Finally, he stood and came over and kissed her. A ping on his phone stopped the moment. “I’ve got to go into the office.” He left without looking back.

  Dread gnawed at her and she shivered.

  On Friday they’d held a small party. Anne was talking with her friend when Duke came over with a tray of drinks.

  “Honey, do you think, I hate to ask—”

  “Of course. Let me.” She took the tray from him as he made a big show of kissing her cheek.

  Anne went over to the staircase leading down onto a flagstone patio. Duke followed. As Anne put her foot on the first step, she felt a bump from behind. With her hands on the tray, she couldn’t grab the handrail to stop her fall. She tumbled down the stairs, landing hard on the flagstone. For most people, the fall would have been inconsequential. But for Anne, it meant the end of her pregnancy. It also led to the discovery that she had a septate uterus. With her marriage already struggling, it had meant her chance for motherhood was slim.

  After returning to D.C., Duke had milked the sympathy card for months. His approval ratings grew daily. But in private, a chill had settled between them.

  “I’ve been talking to Senator Roberts. He tells me that children are critical to showing you’re a good family man. They make the public relate to you. We’re going to have to figure this out.”

  To Duke, children were simply chess pieces to use as strategy to gain what you want. Since she could no longer

  give him children, the news of his affair came as no surprise. After months of litigation, Duke made her an offer. If she would sign a non-disclosure agreement and agree to a closed divorce settlement, everything regarding her books and the farm would be hers. After a year of lawyers, she was tired. She agreed.

  Sadly, in the end, Anne still had had to sell her beloved farm.

  From that moment on she had stopped living. She existed in a bubble. Months crept by. A year went past. Then another . Then one day she’d stumbled across an advertisement for an old decrepit Victorian in Colorado. When she’d arrived in Carolan Springs, she felt as if she had found her home.

  Life had given her a second chance.

  Now it had all come back to haunt her once again.

  As the sobs racked her, the reminder of what she had lost filled her with agony. The new Mrs. Freemont would give Duke the needed boost at the polls with her pregnancy.

  The sobs grew stronger and stronger. All the emotions that she had held back so long sought escape. Grief came in waves. Loss of her marriage. Loss of a chance at motherhood. Loss of self.

  Kandi’s words came to her mind. “You hate men.” No, she didn’t hate men . She had hated one man. One man who had taken everything from her. But no more.

  All this time she had thought she had healed. That she had made peace with everything that had happened. But she bore the burden of it. She hadn’t been at fault because she couldn’t bear a child. No, Duke lusted for power and he would do anything to attain it. She had to let go. She had to release any remaining power he held over her.

  “I forgive you.” With those simple words, shackles she had placed on her heart lifted. She pressed her hands over her eyes and took in deep cleansing breaths.

  Chapter Thirteen

  A knock on the truck’s passenger window startled Anne. Sheriff Carson. She had been so deep within her own suffering and past memories that she hadn’t heard the vehicle pull up. Anne ran the window down.

  “Everything okay here?” He laid his hand on the door jamb. His Stetson shielded his face.

  “Yes. I’m fine.” She rubbed her eyes, sniffed, and hoped her face wasn’t covered in snot.

  He glanced down the road. “Not good to sit on the side here. Too many cars come around that curve pretty fast.”

  “Sorry. I just pulled over for a minute.” Anne caught her reflection in the side mirror. Thankfully, no snot.

  “Well, it’s easy for someone to back-end you before you know it. It’s best if you prevent it from happening in the future.”

  Her brow furrowed as she looked at him. Was he talking about being parked here or the fiasco that had just occurred? Had he been there?

  Anne pushed her bangs back. “Okay. Thanks. I’m leaving now.”

  “You sure you’re okay to drive?” His eyebrows rose with the question.

  “Yes. I’m fine. In fact, I’m much better now.”

  “You take care, then.” He tipped his hat and took a few steps away from the vehicle.

  Anne pulled off the shoulder and onto the pavement. She glanced in the rearview mirror. Carson stood next to his cruiser, staring after her.

  As she drove, Anne made a commitment. She hadn’t come this far not to get what she wanted. She remembered a quote and repeated it aloud: “‘I can and I will’—and no one is going to stop me from making a new life here.”

  She cranked up the radio. An upbeat tune came through the speakers. She sang loudly and out of tune to its lyrics. Anne steered the vehicle toward the hospital.

  She pulled into the parking lot. Grabbing some tissues from the console, she checked her reflection.

  In the hospital, she made a beeline for the bathroom. Anne stared at a fragile-looking woman in the long wall of mirrors. Her eyes were puffy and red and her face blotched from crying.

  After washing her hands, she used a towel to pat her face with cold water. The scratchy brown towel only made her face redder. Anne grabbed the only makeup in her purse, a beeswax lip stain. She applied it quickly with a deft hand. Now her entire face looked red. She stuck out her tongue at the mirror image just as another lady entered the bathroom.

  “I feel ya, honey. I have a lot of those days too.” The woman headed to the end stall.

  Anne chuckled to herself as she left the room. She strode
over to the reception desk. A young nurse sat there.

  Anne smiled. “Good morning. Is Eliza de French still in room 102?”

  The nurse turned her gaze to the computer monitor. A few clicks on her keyboard later, she replied, “No. She’s been moved to the upper level. Room 204.”

  “Thanks.” Anne took the stairs to the next floor.

  Finding Eliza’s room, she saw the statuesque woman sitting up in bed. The bright white bandage on her head contrasted with her ebony straightened hair.

  Eliza smiled as she entered. “Anne. So very nice of you to come.”

  “I’m sorry it wasn’t sooner.” She set her purse down on a chair.

  “I can certainly understand.” She pointed to the town’s paper lying beside her on the bed. “And it can possibly account for what I see before me. I’m sorry you’re going through this ordeal.”

  “Well, my secret’s out.” Anne stood next to the bed. Eliza sighed. “We all have our secrets.”

  “But ‘my ordeal’ is nothing compared to what you’ve experienced. Here, I brought you this. I hope you like it. I’ve been experimenting with this winter cream.” Anne handed Eliza the container holding the lotion.

  Eliza opened it. “Thank you. I’ve wanted my gloves, but every time I put them on my hands, they ask me to remove them.” She unscrewed the jar top and breathed in the lavender fragrance. “Divine.” She applied it to her hands. “This lotion is simply wonderful. And you make it?”

  “Yes. I’ve always enjoying making my own personal products. And lately I’ve had a hard time sleeping, so I made up a batch. Hope provided the lavender essential oil.”

  “Wonderful.” Eliza sighed.

  “It’s good to see you feeling better. What do the doctors say?”

  “I’m going to be fine, though I had a pretty good concussion from hitting the window. I’ve had some awful headaches, but they say that’s normal as the brain heals and repairs.” She closed her eyes for a moment. “Strangely enough, I’ve been sleeping much better. No need to take the sleep aids anymore.”

  “They always say you can find something good in any situation if you look hard enough.” Anne pulled the chair over next to the bed.