Assault and Batting

by Rothery, Tess

  “So, Belle is in your good graces again?”

  Sissy gave Taylor a stern look. “Belle was never out of my good graces. But it is nice to see Cooper and Dayton together again…”

  “Dayton…” Taylor really wanted to ask Sissy that one question but didn’t. She was afraid to ruin this happy peace they had. “So how long does this thing go?”

  “They kick them out at midnight exactly. But they’ll be fine. You’re probably glad they’re going to Dayton’s. The Ruebens are very strict. They’ll be chaperoned there.”

  “Dale’s letting Belle come over?”

  Sissy snorted. “Dale. What a bag of hot air. If his wife wants the kids to have a party at her house, they will. He doesn’t get a say.”

  “So, he just bullies the rest of us?”

  Sissy packed up her bag of tricks and then gave Taylor another piercing look. “You’re a mess. The kids will be fine. Let’s go get a drink to relax you.”

  Taylor was about to say no thanks, but Sissy held out a hand to stop her. “We’ll be quick. I know you don’t want to leave Ernie here alone long.”

  Grandpa was asleep in his room. He’d be fine for one drink.

  “But seriously, Dale said my sister was going to destroy Dayton’s life.”

  Sissy paused in thought. “Then he probably went somewhere else for the duration of the party. Let’s follow his lead.”

  Taylor followed, locking the door behind her, ready for whatever a drink out with Sissy Dorney looked like, when her phone rang.

  “Is this Laura Quinn?” A very formal voice asked.

  “No, this is her daughter, Taylor.”

  A pause. “Okay. You’re on the list. This is the alarm company. The alarm went off at Flour Sax Quilts. The police were dispatched but say there’s no sign of a break in. This is your official call.”

  “But how did the alarm go off? What do you mean?”

  “The police confirmed that all of the doors and windows were secure. There’s no sign of a break in, so they think it was the wind. This happens sometimes. We’ll send someone over to adjust the settings on Monday.”

  “Thanks.” Taylor ended the call. “The alarm went off at the shop. Do you mind stopping by with me real fast? They say there was no break in but…”

  Sissy checked her watch. “Sure, we can go past, but I gotta get this stuff home.” She loaded her luggage into her car, and then opened the door.

  Taylor got in and they drove the couple of blocks to her shop.

  Sissy pulled up along the curb and Taylor hopped out. The door to Flour Sax was shut and locked. The windows, which didn’t open anyway, were untouched. “I want to go around back, hold on.” Taylor hollered.

  Sissy looked at her watch-less wrist dramatically.

  “I’ll just be a sec.” Taylor ran around the corner to the back. That door was also locked and the windows were not only shut, but the bars that blocked them hadn’t been compromised. The upstairs windows were unreachable from the ground and seemed shut tight.

  The thing was, it was a windless night. So how had the alarm gone off?

  She jangled her keys. It wouldn’t hurt to go through the shop on her way to Sissy’s car, just to feel safe.

  She unlocked the door, telling herself that it was silly to worry, but wise to double check.

  She pulled the door shut with a click, typed her alarm code into the pad by the door, and then exhaled.

  She snuck past Grandpa’s chair turning fast to make sure no one was in it. She was almost to the register when there was a large crash upstairs in the apartment.

  Her heart lodged itself firmly in her throat, and she choked on it.

  She squeezed her eyes shut for a second, then headed to the front door, each step like she was walking on glass, hoping above hope that whoever was upstairs could not hear her.

  At the front window, she waved frantically to Sissy.

  Sissy didn’t notice.

  She texted Sissy.

  Sissy didn’t notice.

  She put her key to the lock but spotted the bells. She could usually hear those when she was upstairs.

  She texted Sissy again, and waved again, but Sissy didn’t spot her.

  Taylor was hesitant to walk to the backdoor past the stairs to the apartment, but it was they only way out that didn’t make a lot of noise.

  She made it as far as the worktable when she heard the feet on the stairs.

  Her breath was snatched from her mouth. She dropped to the floor, hoping she hadn’t been spotted.

  After the count of three, she opened her eyes and scanned the staircase, looking for feet.

  Instead, she spied a fluffy ringed-tail going around the corner.

  She screamed.

  The sound ripped through the air. Clawed feet skittered back up the stairs.

  She texted Sissy again. “RACOON!!!!!!”

  Sissy responded with a laughing emoji.

  “COME HELP”

  “HELL NO”

  She ran to the front door and just barely waited till she got it unlocked to run through it. She didn’t bother to shut it.

  She pulled open the door to the car and jumped in. “I need to call animal control.” She stared at her phone trying to remember what Google was.

  “You need the sheriff. No animal control here.”

  “Crap.” Taylor’s phone was shaking. No, her hand was shaking. No, they both were.

  “Are we getting a drink?”

  “I have a racoon in my shop.” Taylor used two hands to hold the phone steady. It was just a racoon. It wasn’t a killer.

  “And?”

  “And he’ll tear the place up.”

  “Listen, I feel for you, but not bad enough to get rabies. I’m going for a drink. Call the sheriff and let him deal with it.”

  “I don’t think that’s how this works.”

  “Suit yourself.” Sissy started her car.

  Taylor hopped out.

  The sheriff seemed extreme. Surely there was someone else she could call to help her deal with a racoon.

  She almost laughed when she remembered Hudson. He had promised he’d help with anything, even a racoon.

  She called him as Sissy drove away.

  “Hey!” He sounded happy and surprised. “Is everything all right?”

  “Racoon.” Taylor only got the one word out because she saw the beast again through the window, but he wasn’t headed toward the door. He was using his creepy little fingers to peel open one of the caramels by the register.

  “You’re kidding! In the garage?”

  “No…in the shop.”

  “I’ll be right there. You don’t mind if I shoot it, do you?”

  The racoon spotted her.

  Taylor would have sworn it did.

  It stared through the window and locked eyes, then it pulled the sticky candy between its two hands.

  “Please hurry.”

  “Got it, boss.”

  He hung up.

  Taylor wished he hadn’t, but he did. She stood there, watching the racoon discover caramel. He was mesmerized and so was Taylor.

  Things had gotten really sticky for the beast when a truck pulled up. Hudson hopped out and joined her at the window.

  He whistled softly. “Cute little guy, hey? He can’t be very old.”

  Taylor turned to him, full of fear and disgust. “The devil is as old as the earth.”

  He laughed. “I probably won’t shoot him. We just have to lure him out of there.”

  “How do you lure a racoon?”

  “With a cute lady racoon.” He said it with a straight face as he walked to the door of the store. “He doesn’t strike me as sick or scared. We probably don’t have to be afraid.”

  “I do not have a cute lady racoon.”

  Hudson opened the door, but Taylor hung back. “It’s easy to trap a racoon with marshmallows, but I don’t know, this one’s covered in caramels. He might not care about a lowly marshmallow.”

  The
racoon was sort of lounging on the counter now, licking its fingers.

  “If I take the caramels away, he’ll probably follow.”

  “But you’ll have to get so close to get them.” Her hand gripped the cold metal door handle. She desperately did not want to go in.

  “Is your trash can full outside?”

  “It’s not empty.”

  “Can you go around back and find something very aromatic from it? We can probably lure him out with some half-rotten fruit.”

  She stared at him.

  “If you bring me the fruit, I will lure him out with it.”

  Taylor nodded, not sure if she trusted him. What if this animal chased her to get it?

  “You really don’t have to be afraid. He’s not going to hurt you.”

  The racoon dropped off the counter and waddled down the room with his sticky hands.

  “But the sooner we get him away from your fabric the better. You go find some trash okay?”

  She ran around back. He was right. They needed to protect her stock.

  She found a few apple cores on top of the can. Not rotten really, but they were definitely ripe. She grabbed them and ran back.

  She stopped at the front door to assess the situation.

  Hudson had his back to her, and was low, crouching. He was inching backwards towards the door, but for a moment that was all she could see.

  He stopped. Then inched a little further.

  She moved a little so she could see around him.

  He had an opened caramel held out in one hand, and the box in the other.

  The racoon was shyly following him, reaching for the candy as Hudson pulled it away.

  She pushed the door open but tried to stand outside.

  Hudson heard the bells jingle and turned his head to give her an encouraging smile.

  The racoon leapt at him, snatched the candy and ran back to the register counter.

  Hudson stood up. “Almost had him.” He kicked the door stop into place. “Got anything really stinky for me?”

  Taylor held out the pathetic apples. “He’ll hardly want those.”

  “Do you have any heavy wool?”

  “No…”

  “Not even an old blanket or a coat?”

  “Maybe upstairs.” Her eyes were glued on the greedy animal.

  “Let’s go check. I can sneak around behind him and nab him that way.”

  “What? No! You’ll get hurt.”

  He grinned “I’m a lot bigger than him.”

  “But rabies…”

  “If he bites me, you’ll just have to rush me to the hospital. It’ll be fine.”

  “This is the worst idea I’ve ever heard.”

  “I have my .22 in the car. I could just shoot him.” Hudson ambled back to his truck as though they had all evening.

  Taylor went out with him, picturing the blood and gore she’d have to clean up if she shot the animal.

  “Catching him in a blanket isn’t such a bad idea now, is it?”

  “You could literally die. I don’t think fabric is worth that.”

  He gazed down at her, sad and sympathetic. “Okay. I won’t. I’ve got a live trap in the back of the truck. You want to sit in there while I set it up?

  Taylor glanced at the cab of the truck with its safe steel doors high up off the ground. “A real feminist would say no.”

  “Feminists can be scared of racoons.” He opened the door.

  Taylor climbed in.

  He shut the door with a click and disappeared around the back for the live trap.

  And she cried.

  It came up from some hidden fountain of pain, some unexpected spring of feeling. A month ago, she’d had a mother. And she’d had a job at a nice big store in the city, and she’d had a long-term serious boyfriend who lived with her and did the man of the house stuff.

  And now she had a raccoon eating candy in her shop and a teenage sister at prom with a college kid and a grandpa with dementia.

  She cried those deep embarrassing sobs, the balls of her hands digging into her eyes like she thought she could send the tears back where they came from.

  She sobbed till she couldn’t anymore because it was too ridiculous. She had cried at the funeral and in her bed alone and on the drive here when she’d moved. She had cried plenty. She wasn’t breaking down now for the first time because she had stayed strong so long. This was her breaking down, yet again, because this was all just too much.

  A great thunk in the back shook the truck, then Hudson got in. “He really is a little guy.”

  “Please tell me you didn’t catch him in your arms.”

  “I didn’t have to. After all that candy, he really wanted water. I put the apples and the caramels and a bowl of water from the sink in the back of the trap and it only took a few minutes for him to check it out.”

  “What are you going to do with him now?”

  “I’ll release him back at my place.”

  She nodded, but wondered if the animal was cold in the back of the truck.

  Hudson graciously ignored her blotchy and wet face. “It’s been some kind of night. Can I buy you a drink?”

  “Yes, thank you.” Taylor buckled up and leaned back in her seat. “It’s prom night.”

  “Oh yeah?”

  “Belle is there now, and I don’t know if she’s coming home.”

  “Did you on prom night?”

  “No.”

  “I did.” He offered her a cheeky grin.

  “Aren’t you a good guy.”

  “Regular knight in shining armor.”

  He drove to the west side of town, to the last bar before you find yourself on the road to the coast.

  She looked longingly toward the coast range mountains.

  “We don’t have to stop here.”

  “It is prom night, after all….” Taylor murmured softly, not looking at him.

  He turned the radio to the classic country station.

  She hummed along to an old song. She wasn’t the biggest fan, but the classics were different.

  A deep rumble came from Hudson as he started singing along.

  She joined him. They laughed.

  He didn’t force her to talk.

  But he wasn’t silent either.

  “Do you have a favorite beach?”

  Taylor didn’t want to admit she wasn’t much for the beach. She liked it fine but wasn’t obsessed. Once a year she liked to get to the edge of the country, stare out into the vastness of the sea and contemplate her finite nature, but mostly she just wasn’t into sand and the Oregon coast is always so cold. She just said “No, not really.”

  “Then I’ll take you to mine.”

  * * *

  The sun was setting, and it was that dusky gray time of night where the sky and the sea melted together. He led her across the sandy expanse to a large log, driftwood really, but as big as a tree. He tapped the coals of a recently abandoned beach fire with the toe of his Timberlands. “Shall we?”

  “Sure.”

  They got up again and collected chunks of wood from the general area. By the time the fire was going the night had grown chilly, but the clouds were breaking, and a few stars shone above them. She leaned back on her arms letting the fire warm her legs while she watched the sky sparkle.

  “Have you guys gotten any answers about your mom’s death?” He had given her plenty of personal space, which was the opposite of what she had in mind when she imagined them reliving prom night at the beach. But this was probably better.

  She leaned forward and tapped at the fire with a thick stick. “No one really knows what happened. Everyone has a little piece of the picture, but when we put it all together, we still end up with Mom heading outside alone and not being seen again till the next morning.”

  “That’s rough.”

  “I don’t know if having a witness would have made it better. Knowing whose fault it was doesn’t bring her back.”

  “It’s natural to want to blame som
eone.” Hudson stared into the distance, though the sun had set and there was nothing to see but darkness.

  “Especially for Belle. She’s so young.”

  “She probably thinks it’s her fault.”

  “Hmmm…I wonder what made you think of that.” Taylor used her branch to draw parallel lines in the sand, near each other, but never connecting.

  “I’ve been a teenager before. Don’t you remember?” He lifted his face to stare at the stars instead of the darkness straight ahead.

  She did remember. She hadn’t paid attention to most of the underclassmen, but he’d stood out as a freshman.

  “There can be such a black and white fatality to everything when you’re an adolescent.” He paused, then turned her direction. “My dad was in a car wreck when I was a senior. He drove into the creek.”

  “Bible Creek?” Taylor shuddered at the thought of the steep cliffs.

  “Yeah. He was headed to pick me up. I’d been drinking with some friends and we got caught by a neighbor. He took my buddy’s car keys and made us all call our parents.”

  “Was your dad okay?”

  “No.”

  She reached out for his hand, letting her fingers weave into his.

  “He lived but had to go on disability.” His hand was firm, and strong, and warm. It felt safe.

  “This is kind of different.” She murmured. Belle hadn’t been the reason their mom had gone away for the weekend. Not the primary cause anyway, not like Hudson’s dad having to pick him up when he got in trouble. She knew her tone wasn’t sympathetic, and immediately regretted saying it.

  He let go of her hand. “It was my fault my dad drove out there that night. It was not my fault that my dad had also been drinking. I’ve learned after a lot of counseling this means the accident was not my fault.”

  “You’re right. I’m sorry.” Taylor felt a little sick. She should have waited to hear the whole story before she judged.

  “I don’t know what your sister is thinking right now, but I’d guess from having hung out with her a bit that she thinks it’s her fault. And not just for the death but for everything you gave up too.”

  Taylor kicked the sand in front of her.

  “Don’t try to tell me it wasn’t much.”

  “I won’t.”

  “Home?” He was close enough that their shoulders brushed, and Taylor was warm sitting near him, but he didn’t offer to hold her hand again.