by Sara Clancy
The working theory became that it was a strange happenstance. A coyote probably came to check out the strange activity happening around a normally silent house. It must have caught the scent of decay. As the Constable reasoned, the sounds of a wild animal scratching about in his yard would have been confusing for a city boy, and he had probably wandered out without fully waking up, scaring it off before it had finished digging up its would-be dinner. She had let him go to bed but, lacking both a door and curtains, Benton had no barrier against the invading light or noise. He hadn’t slept; only stared at his eyelids until the relentless knocking had started.
Benton thought that when someone accused their only child of being a murderer and then refused to apologize for their glaringly obvious mistake, that the least they could do was answer the door. Apparently, they thought differently. Because the knocking had continued until he had peeled himself from the minimal comfort of his bed and half tumbled down the staircase. With one hand in his hair and the other on the handle, he wrenched the front door open.
He had intended to snap out a few well-chosen words, but forgot everything the second he was sucker-punched by a billowing pile of helium balloons. They swung back into him each time he swatted them aside, like a school of bobby rainbow piranha. It made him look around for something sharp to pop them with. The split second before his dignity was not worth one more hit to the face, they pulled back and he was left staring at Nicole’s smile. It was perfect. Despite the nervous energy she admitted and the fact that she had just parked behind an RCMP cruiser.
“Welcome to Fort Wayward,” she said awkwardly.
Benton stared at her. Eventually, she held out the basket again, high enough this time that the balloons wobbled over his head. The basket was huge, wrapped with cellophane, and brimmed with assorted items and food, all statically placed for maximum effect. It was topped with a massive pink envelope that he couldn’t stop looking at.
“I didn’t know you could do calligraphy with glitter pens.”
“You can do anything with glitter. I’m kind of famous for it,” she said and rattled the basket slightly.
He didn’t move to take it.
“You don’t have any questions, Nicole?”
After a moment of thought, she said almost sheepishly, “Can I come in?”
“Not even a little curious about the police cruiser, huh?”
“Oh, I kind of know a bit about that already,” she said with diplomatic sensitivity.
“How?”
She tilted her head. “Well, the police officer who interviewed you this morning is my mother.”
The second she said it, the obvious last name connection snapped into the forefront of his mind. “How did I not get that?”
“You had a lot on your mind,” she dismissed easily.
Her arms had to be hurting by now, but she refused to lower the gift basket. She only adjusted her grip on it to wave at one of the police officers who was still lingering around. He seemed to be in his forties, and had a narrow face that made his smile look wider. Spotting her, the officer jogged up onto the porch, his eyes locked on the gift basket.
“I’m guessing this is the famed welcome basket. It looks great.”
Nicole preened under the praise.
“Are those some choc-mint muffins?”
“Yep,” she said with glee. “I’m trying out a new recipe.”
“I don’t suppose you’ve got a few extra?”
Nicole twisted, putting her shoulder between the officer and the basket. “Not until you get your cholesterol down.”
“Geegee sold me out?”
“You can’t blame your wife for being concerned.”
The officer, whose name Benton had yet to be introduced to, rolled his eyes playfully.
“Fine. But seriously, it all looks great.” He acknowledged Benton for the first time. “Doesn’t it?”
“Yeah,” Benton said with a fake smile. “It’s almost enough to forget about the dead body in my backyard.”
The officer shifted his attention to Nicole. They seemed to have a silent conversation that finished with Nicole sending him on his way with a slight tip of her head. Benton watched the whole display with confusion and a little resentment. The officer made his apologies, gave Benton a pat on his shoulder that he assumed was meant to be some sign of camaraderie, and trotted back down the stairs to his post.
“Bye, Uncle Chuck.”
A surprised laugh choked off in Benton’s throat. “So you’re just related to all law enforcement in this town?”
“Chuck?” she asked innocently. “Oh, we’re not actually related. He’s been my dad’s best friend since they were in fourth grade.”
“Great.” He pulled the basket out of her hands and moved to close the door. “Thanks. Bye.”
Her hand was instantly on the door, forcing it back open. Benton stared at the door, trying to express just how odd and unwelcome her behavior was with facial expressions alone. She caught on well enough but didn’t seem deterred.
“I’m sensing that you’re not much of a people person.”
“It’s a side effect of my overall distaste for the human species,” he acknowledged with a nod.
“But you and me,” she said. “We’re going to get along great.”
“No,” he said flatly. “We’re not.”
Her smile only grew wider. “Yes, we are. I’m friends with everyone in this town, and you’re not going to ruin my streak.”
“But there is that pesky overall distaste,” he noted.
“But I’m awesome.”
He sucked a breath in through his teeth. “That’s a problem for me,” he said. “I’m allergic to awesome. And happiness. And the general will to live.”
“Do most people get your sense of humor?”
“I’ll let you know when I tell a joke.” He attempted to close the door again only for her to stop him. “You seriously need to take a hint.”
“You need a ride to school,” she countered. “Unless you’re thinking of going on an hour-long stroll.”
He was about to mention that he had an excellent excuse to take the day off when he remembered that both of his parents had recently arranged to telecommute. They were both going to be home. All day. There was something deeply twisted in knowing that he didn’t have a problem hanging out with a corpse, but the idea of being in the same house as his parents was too much.
“Fine. I should brush my teeth, though.”
He turned from the door, leaving it open, and only hesitating when she mentioned.
“And probably pants.”
His fingers clenched the staircase banister. It hadn’t even occurred to him that he was still in just a tee-shirt and boxers. He was saved from complete humiliation by the thought that he had at least showered once Rider had sent him up, so he didn’t smell like stale sweat. Nothing helped the fact that he was in his boxers, though. Shoving down his blush, he forced himself to continue up the stairs. It was hard to keep himself from thinking of how gross he must have looked. Sleep deprived and haggard. His long bare legs making him look like he was cross-bred with a praying mantis. Bed head. Reaching the top of the stairs, he ran a hand through his hair in a feeble attempt to make it obey.
“What happened to your door?”
Benton let out a yelp he would never admit to and spun around to find that Nicole had followed him all the way up and into his room.
“Why didn’t you stay at the front door?”
“You didn’t tell me to.” She examined the missing chunks of wood where the door’s hinges should have been fixed as she continued, “It’s just weird to loiter in someone’s house.”
He flung his arms out, sending the balloons into chaos. “Everything you do is weird.”
“That’s debatable,” she dismissed. “The door? Do you need a carpenter? I know a good one.”
Benton opened his mouth, the truth on his tongue, but he couldn’t force the words out. Losing all his steam, he mumb
led that his parents were taking care of it.
Since she wasn’t paying attention to the massive ‘go away’ expression he was throwing at her, and he was too embarrassed to mention that he was going to get naked, Benton decided that he would just pull on a pair of jeans and be done with it.
He tossed the welcome basket onto the tangled mess of sheets and towels that made up his bedding and dug into his suitcase. Nicole lingered in the doorway. He turned his back on her and tried to ignore that she was there.
“When is your stuff due to arrive? I could get a few friends over to help you move it in. It will be a great way for you to meet people.”
“By getting them to do manual labor for me?” Benton asked as he jumped into his jeans.
“Some people actually like doing nice things for each other.”
“No, they don’t,” he muttered. “They like how other people think about them for doing nice things.”
“That’s a lonely way to go through life.”
The actual sympathy that hung in her words made him turn. For the first time, she didn’t look ecstatic. There was still a slight smile curling the corners of her mouth, but it looked almost sad. A sliver of guilt made its way across the pit of his stomach. As much as he found her constant Care-Bear levels of happiness annoying, he didn’t want to be the one to rob her of it.
“Yeah, well,” he stammered for an excuse. “Worse ways to be, I suppose.”
Well, that was pathetic, said a mocking voice in his head.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
His shoulders hunched at the question. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Because of Miss Williams,” she said. “And last night. Seems like you might be going through some things. And as your friend–”
“We’re not friends,” he cut in.
“As your future friend,” she amended, her smile regaining its strength. “I care about how you’re handling this.”
She sounded so genuine that his readymade snarl died in his throat. He licked his lips and rubbed the back of his neck.
“Ain’t anything new,” he mumbled.
He instantly regretted the slip. Nicole hadn’t missed it. Her brow furrowed, her eyes became sharp, and she looked at him like she was studying a new puzzle. A lot of people had looked at him like that. He hated it. “Nicole,” Benton’s mother appeared as if she had formed from the air itself. “I thought I heard voices.”
“Voices, you investigate. But someone banging on the door for fifteen minutes you let slide,” he mumbled.
Cheyanne threw a warning glare at Benton and, for the first time, he didn’t instantly shy away. He was still angry and hurt and a petty part of him wanted her to feel just an ounce of it. But he soon lost his nerve and turned his attention back to his suitcase.
“Is that the welcome basket?” Cheyanne continued, her fake happy tone grinding against his nerves. “It’s lovely. Thank you. You put far too much effort into it.”
“Not at all,” Nicole smiled. “A lot of the items were donated by local business. There are even a few maps and some coupons for the Buffalo Jump.”
“Buffalo Jump?” Benton heard his mother ask as he sniffed at his gray hoodie.
It didn’t smell too bad but he decided to go for his sweater instead. It was as he moved to brush his teeth, that he was hit once again with his distinct lack of privacy. He couldn’t even duck behind a wall to escape the conversation happening behind him.
“It’s a cliff face that the local First Nation tribes had once used in the buffalo hunts,” Nicole explained. “I work part time at the museum there. It’s really great if you want to learn more about our history. And it has some of the best views around.”
He didn’t have to look to know the nervous expression that flittered across his mother’s face as she asked, “And you belong to one of these tribes?”
Having been born and raised in large cities, the only distinctions Cheyanne could really get her head around were ‘locals’ and ‘tourists.’ It made her nervous around certain people. Like she was hyperaware of saying something that could be culturally insensitive, but completely at a loss over what those things might be. If Nicole noticed the strain, she politely ignored it.
“Siksika Nation, ma’am.”
“Oh, I must admit that I haven’t heard much about your people.”
“You might know us as Blackfoot,” Nicole said. “Most of the town actually has some kind of tie to the tribe.”
“Well, I look forward to educating myself. Thank you so much for the gift. We really appreciate it,” Cheyanne lowered her voice to add. “Especially given the circumstances.”
Nicole didn’t hesitate to meet her confidential tone, “Circumstances?”
“Dead person buried in the barn,” Benton mumbled around a mouthful of toothpaste froth. “Mother’s a little worried the locals will think we’re responsible.”
Nicole actually laughed. “Don’t worry, Mrs. Bertrand, no one thinks that. After all, first estimates are that the body is at least sixty years old.”
Benton watched with a hint of amusement as his mother’s relief mixed with suspicion. “How would you know that?”
“Well,” Benton said with glee. “I’m glad I’m not the only unobservant one.”
Nicole explained the connection between her and the officer his parents had been so reluctant to call. The fun of watching his mother try and cling to her smile soon lost its charm. His mother honestly feared that he was a killer, or at least feared his potential to be one. The knowledge settled against his chest like a lead weight. He tugged the hood of his sweater up over the disaster of his hair. It wasn’t worth staying here for a second longer to try and fix it. Throwing his clothes aside, he found his backpack and shoved his phone and headphones into it.
“We should go,” he said to Nicole.
The room felt like the size of a football field. It seemed to take forever for him to cross the space.
Cheyanne struggled to keep her blatantly fake smile in place and the hint of fear out of her voice. “Go? Go where?”
“School,” he said as he slung his nearly empty backpack onto his shoulder. “Need to get that education.”
“I thought you would stay home for the day.”
She threw everything she had into silently telling him that she wanted him to ditch Nicole. Now, by the look of it. Benton met her eyes.
“Why?”
She stumbled, not expecting to have to come up with an answer that would be appropriate for the current company.
He turned his attention to Nicole. “Ready?”
“Always.”
Cheyanne finally found her voice. “You haven’t even had breakfast yet. Let me make you something, sweetie.”
He ripped open the cellophane that was wrapped perfectly around the basket, and grabbed a muffin and a few cookies.
“Taken care of,” he said as he waved them in the air. “Come on, Nic.”
Nicole gave him an odd look. It only lasted a split second before she turned to his mother with a dazzling smile.
“Don’t worry, Mrs. Bertrand. There’s a coffee shop right across from school. I’ll make sure he gets something a little more substantial and isn’t late for his first day.”
Benton hid a smile as he thundered down the stairs. He couldn’t remember the last time it had felt like someone was actually in his corner. Cheyanne followed close behind him, shifting between babbling excuses and calling for his father. To say goodbye, as she insisted. Benton pulled on his sunglasses and practically jogged to Nicole’s jeep. Cheyanne stopped on the porch, constantly sneaking glances back into the house, searching for Theodore. Her urge not to make a scene, especially with a RCMP officer present, won out, and she settled on waving after him. He didn’t look back as he hurled himself into the passenger side. Half a second later, Nicole got into the driver’s seat.
“Are you okay?”
“Just drive. Please.”
She turned the engine on and headed
down the gravel road without further comment. Tension clawed at his muscles like insects, the sensation growing until they passed the raw wooden logs of the property fence. The air instantly lightened. He sagged against the door and watched the incredible expanse of green and golden grass, the lofty blades shimmering in the breeze like ripples on an endless ocean.
“So this is the new kid?”
Benton shouted every curse word he knew in a second flat. He whipped around to find two women sitting in the back. They were identical twins, both with their dark hair pulled back, the same fine features, and matching jackets. Nicole made quick introductions.
“This is Meg and Danny.”
Each girl raised her hand in turn when their name was called.
“Girls, this is my friend, Benton.”
“Still not friends,” Benton muttered.
Nicole happily ignored him, but Meg was quick to scoff. “So you’re just using her for the ride? Aren’t you great at making first impressions?”
Benton narrowed his eyes but there wasn’t much he could say in his own defense.
“Be nice,” Nicole reprimanded.
Rolling her eyes, Meg leaned back in her seat and crossed her arms over her chest. Benton turned back to face the front.
“You’re pretty good at describing people,” Danny said.
A quick glance in the rear view mirror was Nicole’s only response.
“You described me?”
“People were curious,” Nicole said innocently.
Benton snorted and aimlessly shuffled his legs in an attempt to get comfortable. At his silence, Nicole made her own attempt at conversation.
She addressed both girls at once. “Where are your normal jackets?”
Meg was the one to answer, “We always wear these.”
“No,” Nicole said with growing suspicion. “You don’t.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Danny said.
