Wavering Convictions

by Erin Dutton

  “You know I hate that you can do that.” Kathi scowled at her, then launched into a recap of what had happened since her first meeting with Maggie and an abbreviated timeline of their interactions. Ally closed her eyes and listened to their conversation. Kathi told the story in her usual no-nonsense tone, studiously ignoring all of Dani’s attempts to lead her on a tangent.

  “Wow,” Dani said when Kathi had finished.

  “Yeah.” Ally sat up, her head clearer.

  “I mean, what are the chances the first woman you really connect with in forever is part of Carey’s case?”

  “Yep. This is all so horrible. I’m still wrapping my head around my little brother going to prison. I don’t need this, too.”

  “It sounds like you’re sure he’s guilty.”

  “He’s stolen from his own family. Is this really a leap?”

  “Armed robbery? Yes. I think it is.”

  “He all but told me he did it. He admitting to having my father’s gun. And that instead of pawning it, he decided to put it to good use. What does that sound like to you?”

  Dani refilled her glass and held out the bottle, but Ally waved her away. “What are you going to do about Maggie?”

  She shrugged. “Nothing. She didn’t answer my call or text. Jorge says the criminal trial won’t be for months yet. So I won’t have to deal with the awkwardness.”

  “And you won’t have to face your emotions.”

  “My emotions?” She surged to her feet and stomped to the railing once more. “Why don’t you have a bigger deck?” She descended the steps and strode across the lawn, calling back over her shoulder, “Between Ma and Carey, when do I have time for my emotions?”

  When Ally spun around, Dani was standing at the railing. “You still think you should be able to metabolize your feelings as quickly as you do alcohol.”

  “Dani.” Kathi’s voice carried a warning.

  “She needs to hear this.”

  Kathi gave Dani a look that even Ally could tell was meant to shut her up.

  “It’s okay, Kathi.” Ally made eye contact with Dani. “Let me have it.”

  Sympathy softened Dani’s eyes. “I realize your situation with your family is tough. I can’t begin to understand how it feels for you to be in the middle of all that drama. But at some point, it’s on you to make time to keep yourself healthy.”

  “I’m sure that’s real fucking easy for you to say. Sitting here with your perfect wife and two kids. When have you ever had to worry about anything more than what to make for dinner?” In her peripheral vision she registered Kathi’s stricken expression. They’d been frank with each other before, but she’d never injected this venom into her words.

  Suddenly, she needed to be as far away from this reminder of what she didn’t have as she could get. As she passed through the door to the house, she heard Kathi call out to her.

  “What the hell, Al?”

  “Let her go.” Dani’s calm demeanor churned up Ally’s anger like silt in a riverbed, clouding her ability to think clearly. But it seemed her angry barb hadn’t even grazed Dani.

  Once in her car, she didn’t uncurl her fisted grip on the wheel until she’d nearly arrived home. She grumbled to herself and wove between cars on the interstate while she replayed the conversation in her mind.

  She was jealous of Kathi and Dani’s relationship. That she could admit in the confines of her vehicle. No—more accurately, envious. She loved them both and wished only the best for them, together and separately. When she heard them commiserating over something one of the kids had done, or complaining about work, she often wondered if she would ever have someone in that way. A woman to come home to, who would listen when things with her mother got to be too much and she needed to vent. And for whom she could do the same. Usually, before she sank too deeply into that hole, she would give herself a lecture on feeling sorry for herself and push those thoughts out of her mind.

  Chapter Seven

  Maggie stood in front of a long glass case, staring at a row of guns in varying sizes and shapes. The two employees behind the counter were busy with other customers, so she had time to calm the nerves doing somersaults in her belly. The taller of the two employees, a man, wore a black T-shirt bearing the shop logo tucked into blue jeans. At his waist, a gun rested in a holster attached to his belt. Maggie moved toward the other end of the shop to keep herself from staring at the weapon, carried so openly. Maybe this was a bad idea. Inga had said she felt safer with a gun in the house, but all Maggie felt right now was nervous. She didn’t think the mere presence of one could make her feel more secure.

  The female employee seemed less intimidating. She was about Maggie’s height, five foot five or so. Her brown hair was pulled back in a ponytail. Behind black-rimmed glasses, her eyes smiled as she interacted with two customers. Her red polo had “Beretta” over the left breast, and Maggie didn’t see any evidence of a pistol on her. Maggie lingered at her end of the store, hoping she would finish with her customer first.

  She’d purposely avoided the many pawnshops that advertised gun sales and had conducted an internet search for reputable stores. Through a little research she found that many gun shops had a target range on the property as well. They all seemed to offer some level of instruction, gun rentals, and gunsmith services as well. Muted popping noises vibrated beneath the floor, indicating the range here was located on a lower level. Was that safe? Surely they took precautions against bullets coming up through the floor.

  Several racks on the back wall held long guns, but Maggie concentrated on the handguns in the cases. The larger ones appeared very military in nature, in varying combinations of black, gray, or tan. She found a collection of smaller guns, obviously geared toward women, but none of the teal, pink, or purple mostly plastic ones appealed to her either.

  “Can I help you?” Maggie nearly sighed in relief at the feminine voice.

  “I—I might be interested in buying a gun.”

  “Sure. What kind are you looking for?” The woman smiled warmly.

  “I don’t know anything about them.”

  “Okay. I can help you figure that out. Are you looking for a handgun?” She swept a hand over the glass case between them. “Rifle? Shotgun?” She indicated a row on the wall behind her. Maggie recognized the hunting rifles and thought she could distinguish the shotguns, but some of the others seemed much too aggressive for any citizen to own.

  “A handgun, I would think.”

  “You’ve got two basic kinds here.” She moved back to the low case between them. “Revolvers or semiautomatic pistols. Each has benefits and drawbacks. Then, of course, you’ll find some variations with each of those, but this is your first decision.”

  She tried to follow along as the saleswoman explained the differences in the two types of handguns. The semiautomatics were intimidating, black and bulky. But the revolvers reminded her too much of the gun Carey Rowe had pointed at her. Just looking at it lying innocuously in the case made the back of her neck itch uncomfortably.

  “Do you see any you’d like to look at?”

  She pointed to the least scary one she could find—a more compact model, silver on top with a black handle.

  “Beretta Pico. Good choice.” She pointed at her chest. “I’m obviously a fan.” When she took it out of the case and started to hand it to her, Maggie took a step back.

  “I don’t really know how—I’ve never—”

  The woman turned it over and indicated the empty slot in the bottom of the handle. “It’s not loaded. See here. The magazine isn’t in it.” She flipped it back up and pointed to the piece of red plastic wedged into a mechanism on the top. “And we use these in the slide so you can see there’s nothing in the chamber.” Maggie’s confusion must have shown in her expression. The woman smiled. “Okay. Back it up a little. This is a semiautomatic pistol. The slide here on the top contains the mechanism that reloads the chamber after you fire it. Here in the side is where the empty shell eject
s after the round is fired.”

  She talked about trigger pull and safeties, but at some point she lost Maggie again. Maybe this was a bad idea. Yet she only had to think about Cary Rowe’s low growl to become once more saturated with fear. And she imagined any number of other guys were out there just like him—desperate enough to victimize someone else.

  The saleswoman took a business card off a tray on the counter and handed it to her. “We have a range downstairs and offer a couple of different training options for novices if you’re interested. Anything from an hour of private instruction on safety and operation of a firearm, up to the handgun-carry-permit class.”

  “Carry permit?”

  She nodded. “Do you want to carry it on you or in a purse? Or is this just for home protection?”

  She clutched her bag more tightly to her chest. “I suppose I’d like to have it with me.”

  “Then you’ll need a permit. Call our training coordinator. She can set you up with a class date.” She gave her a sympathetic look. “She even offers some classes for women only, if you’d be more comfortable with that.”

  She nodded. “Thank you.”

  The saleswoman laid the gun on the counter and met Maggie’s eyes. “You have some options as far as carrying. Some women use a purse or bag. That’s okay, unless your purse is stolen. And if I need to draw quickly, I’d prefer not to fumble in mine. So I carry on my person at all times.”

  Maggie glanced at her waist, still seeing no discernible bulge under her fitted polo. The woman chuckled.

  “You won’t see it.” She stashed the gun back in the locked case, then circled out from behind the counter and walked to the corner of the shop where accessories hung on several displays. Maggie tracked her, paying close attention, but she still couldn’t find any evidence of a gun.

  She brought a package back to the counter and opened it. “This is called the flashbang holster. You carry it under your bra band. It attaches with this snap to your bra.” She got the compact gun back out and popped the small plastic retainer out of the slide. Then she clipped it into the molded shape of the holster. She held it flat against her, just under her breasts, with the gun’s handle centered over her breastbone. “If you get in trouble, you just reach under your shirt and—” With the holster still braced in her left hand to show the placement, she grasped the handle with her right and pulled the gun down and free of the holster.

  “That’s impressive—and a little scary. It’s safe to have it there, near your…” She waved in the area of her own chest.

  The saleswoman smiled. “You’re not going to shoot your boob off. The holster has a trigger guard. But if you have zero experience with guns, you should learn how to handle them safely. I’d recommend the private instruction. It’s not expensive for just an hour, and we can cover everything you need to know in that time.”

  “Would I get all that in the permit class?”

  “In theory, yes. But a dozen other students will be in the class, with varying degrees of experience. And the instructors cover what’s needed to get you through the written test and shooting proficiently enough to get your permit. You don’t have to be a sharpshooter to pass. If you ever need to use your carry weapon, it’s most likely going to be at fairly close range, so accuracy isn’t usually an issue.”

  “Why is that?”

  “If you can run, that should always be your first option before pulling a gun. We aren’t trying to make vigilantes of you. This is self-defense only. They’ll go through all that in class.”

  “What’s the waiting period to buy one?”

  “Tennessee doesn’t have one. Every state’s different. But here, we’d run a criminal-background check on you. It’s pretty quick.”

  “Oh, so you can get one the same day.”

  “Sure. Some paperwork’s involved. But we can get you out of here in less than thirty minutes.”

  Thirty minutes from deciding to buy to holding a gun in her hand? Was that safe? Could someone decide on the spur of the moment, perhaps in anger, to buy a gun, and it was that easy? The background check was supposed to make her feel better. But what if that was how Carey Rowe got a gun? Thinking about being on the receiving end of that transaction made her queasy.

  “I don’t think I’ll purchase anything today. You’ve given me a lot to think about.”

  “Understandable. Here’s my card, too. But if you come back and I’m not here, any of the guys can help you. They’re all pretty good at helping out even the most novice gun handler.”

  “Thank you.”

  As Maggie approached the door, she moved aside to let two men enter before she stepped out. They both carried small black bags, and one had glasses with yellow-tinted lenses pushed up on his forehead. They headed immediately for a counter where a row of targets hung on the wall. As Maggie pushed through the door to exit, she heard one of them ask for two lanes in the range.

  * * *

  Ally carefully lowered her large miter saw as the blade worked through the four-by-four post that would eventually make up one of the thick legs of a custom dining table. Next, using the table saw, she would notch an inch out of the end all the way around to create a two-inch tab that could be fitted into the perpendicular support.

  She released the trigger on the saw, and as the high-pitched whine wound down, someone called her name. She set the piece of wood aside, took off her safety glasses, and turned. As she scrubbed a hand through her hair, sawdust rained down.

  “Can we talk?” Dani stood just outside the open overhead door.

  Ally glanced at the old analog clock on the garage wall. “Shouldn’t you be at church with the family?”

  “Kathi took the kids without me. She said I had something more important to do.”

  “More important than church?” Ally covered her mouth in mock horror.

  “I know. I was shocked, too.”

  “Come on in.” Ally grabbed two folding camp chairs from a tall cabinet against the wall. She slung one open and swept a hand over it. “Have a seat.” She set up the other one for herself, then went over to the fridge she kept stocked with cold drinks. “Water?”

  “No thanks.”

  “Beer?” she asked with a wink.

  “Before noon on Sunday?”

  “I won’t tell if you don’t.” She teasingly held out a bottle of Dani’s favorite brew, and Dani shook her head. Ally grabbed herself a bottled water, then settled next to Dani. She cracked open the seal, and they sat silently while she took a long drink.

  “What are you working on?”

  “Dining-room table. It’s a wedding gift for a friend’s son.”

  “Nice. If I haven’t told you, I’m so impressed with what you can do out here.” Dani smiled softly.

  “And here I thought you kept that bedroom suite I made you just to be polite.” She’d spent months on the headboard, dresser, and nightstand in a modern rustic style that fit Dani and Kathi’s decor. She sighed. “I owe you an apology.”

  Dani chuckled. “Sounds like it hurts you to say that. Thank you. But that’s not why I’m here.”

  “Then why?”

  “I’ve never told you this. In fact, I’ve only ever shared what I’m about to say with Kathi. My mother had a drinking problem.” She rolled her eyes toward the ceiling. “Not had—has. My mother is a recovering alcoholic. When I was a kid, I used to stay with my grandmother when things got really bad. After my grandmother passed, my aunt and her family took me in a couple of times, too.”

  “But I’ve met your mom. She’s great.” Dani’s mother came to all the kids’ birthday parties and brought gifts and a homemade side dish.

  “Yeah, she is. Now. She’s been sober since I was in my early twenties. A few years earlier and she might not have skipped my high school graduation.”

  “Damn, Dani. I’m sorry.”

  Dani shrugged. “It is what it is. I’m not telling you this for sympathy, but to let you know that I get what you’re going through. I don’t wan
t you to ignore your own feelings and needs and end up like my mom or—”

  “Anyone in my family?”

  “See, you can say that. If I said it—”

  “I shouldn’t have snapped at you.” She slid her bottled water into the cup holder in the camp chair and shifted to face Dani. “But you’re right. At some point I have to stop taking care of Mom and Carey at the expense of myself.”

  “But you don’t have to do it alone. Kathi and I think of you as family, and I hope you feel the same way.”

  “I do. But sometimes it’s hard to talk to you guys about relationship stuff—or my lack thereof, I guess. You two have it all figured out. And look at me. I finally feel a spark with someone, and it’s the most inappropriate woman I could find.”

  “Kathi and I have our issues like anyone else. And we didn’t have the smoothest of starts either, if you recall.”

  “It’s hard to remember a time when you weren’t the perfect couple.”

  Dani laughed. “Please. When she and I met, you two had just gotten past the awkwardness of your breakup and become friends again. She didn’t want to get involved with another woman she worked with and repeat the cycle.”

  Ally nodded. Kathi had confessed her attraction to Dani, and once they worked through both feeling a little weird, Ally had tried to be a good sounding board for her.

  “And I”—Dani grimaced—“I was convinced that she still had feelings for you and that’s why she held back.”

  “I didn’t know that.”

  Dani shrugged. “I didn’t talk about it. I’d been on job sites where working with women brought all kinds of drama. I was the new girl and didn’t want to cause trouble. Plus, you were Kathi’s friend. So, tell me, what is it about Maggie that has you so wound up?”

  Ally wanted to talk to Maggie. Getting permission to talk about her would have to do. “I’m such an idiot. There are plenty of women out there I could be dating.”