by Laura Kemp
Still, a part of me wondered if she had known about Pam and Adam—and if she had, what that would mean.
I knew I didn’t want to spend another evening sitting alone, and so resigned myself to a playing tag along with Holly and Dave.
Downstate, I may have called up a couple of friends and gone to the mall in Kalamazoo, but up here our choices were limited to either hanging out at the marina with the potheads or springing for a dimly lit karaoke bar that served dollar jello shots until midnight.
We chose the latter.
I knew I was overdressed when the people at the next table stood up and unknowingly modeled the latest in pajama bottoms. Still, a sheer white blouse, cami, and blue jeans didn’t seem over-the-top.
“Thanks for coming out, J—” Holly giggled between nuzzles from her date, a dead ringer for some Hollywood actor with eyes the color of galvanized smoke.
“Sure,” I mumbled through the lime-green Jello that had coagulated between my front teeth. “You come here often?”
Dave leaned back in his chair. “Me and some friends try to catch Ned’s Belly when they play.”
“Ned’s Belly?” I laughed, liking the way I was beginning to feel.
“The bass player was a year ahead of me in school. We used to jam together.”
“Yeah?” I tried to sound interested, the third wheels in my mind trying to catch some traction. “How’d they come up with that name?”
“Ready for this one?” Dave asked, leaning forward and I had to admit, Holly could pick them. “He used to have a cat named Ned that would paw at the front door. All he saw was that fat belly every morning and I guess it inspired him.”
I laughed again, ran a hand through my hair and glanced around. No one even close to our age was seated anywhere near us. This place wasn’t cheering me up. In fact, it was reminding me of what I had to look forward to when the social security checks started pouring in.
So, I had another drink.
And then another.
Halfway through the evening I was feeling as tipsy as the table and was about to excuse myself when I spotted someone entering the bar. Through the dim lighting, I was able to place a familiarity in the way he carried himself, the casual slope of his shoulders and the cloud of brown hair that seemed always out of place.
Holly noticed my interest, followed my gaze and giggled, “Better late than never.”
I turned on her at once, “What does that mean?”
“He’s our handyman, Squirt. Mr. Stoddard left his number and—”
“So?”
“Maybe I just happened to ask him to join us when he fixed our toilet.”
I raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t know it was broken.”
Holly smiled, her eyes squinty. “Funny what two rolls of Charmin will do.”
My eyes flew to Dave, who was looking at me with what I could only assume was pity.
“I don’t need help getting dates if that’s what you think!”
Holly leaned closer, an amused look on her face that mirrored Dave’s. “You told me not to think, remember?”
She had a point.
“Come on,” she interrupted. “Jamie’s a good guy…apart from the whole ‘the love of my life was killed in an accident I caused’ thing. It’s time he got back in the saddle.”
“I’m not a horse!”
“It’s just an idiom…or whatever you call it. Dylan has a girlfriend so—”
“Shh!” I said, afraid Dave would catch on but he was too busy waving Jamie over to our table.
“My point is…” she leaned closer, whispered, “Jamie’s a nice guy. And not that bad to look at if you don’t compare him to…well, you know.”
I thought of my vision—or whatever the hell it was—thought of the single band of blood running between Jamie’s nose and lips. “You just don’t get it. I don’t want—”
I saw her gaze hovering above my head and turned to find Jamie standing over me, an easy-going smile on his face. He looked good in a green shirt that complimented his skin and blue jeans that did the same for his legs.
Maybe I could get through this if I didn’t think about what I’d seen in the driver’s seat of that black Jetta.
“Hey,” I laugh-talked. “What’re you doing here?”
I felt Holly kick me under the table as Dave spun around, karaoke book in hand. “Have a seat. We were just ready to order another round.”
“We were?” I asked. Holly kicked me again, and so I shut my mouth as Jamie sunk into the chair beside me.
Laboratory conditions aside, I found his presence slightly comforting as we sat in a silence smothered by an off-key rendition of Islands in the Stream. Another Jello-shot and I was ready for small talk, or whatever I could manage without revealing too much.
“You come here often?”
He nodded. “Just to hear Ned’s Belly.”
At this revelation, Dave leaned over us and gave him a high five. “They rock, Bro!”
Jamie nodded, seemingly bored by Dave or perhaps not buzzed enough to share his enthusiasm.
“You gonna sing?” He turned to me.
“I’m only good at one thing and even that’s negotiable.”
Holly, half in the bag by this time, leaned over and hit his shoulder. “She means writing!”
“She serious?” Jamie asked with what I thought might be genuine interest.
“I used to work for a newspaper,” I shrugged. “No big deal.”
“That’s cool,” Jamie said, pushing his brown hair out of his eyes. “What sort of articles did you write?”
I shrugged again, hating how I felt like a misfit when I should be proud of my accomplishments. “Human interest. You know…woman runs antique store for fifty-seven years without a bathroom break…that sort of thing.”
“She’s just being modest,” Holly piped up. “What she really wants to do is start a blog…or something.”
I gritted my teeth and looked away as our drinks arrived, plopped unceremoniously on the table by a cocktail waitress with a shirt that read ‘If it wasn’t for Presque Isle County, Michigan would be flipping you off.’ I was spared further career inquiries when Holly stood and made her way to the microphone, intent on nailing Barracuda via the B-52s. Four minutes and twenty-one seconds later she accomplished her mission to a smattering of applause. Sitting down with a heavy sigh, she began what I was hoping she wouldn’t.
“So, Jamie…how’ve ya been?”
I felt the man beside me tense. “Fine.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah,” he said, his tone abrupt. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Because I haven’t talked to you since”—Holly looked at Dave as though unsure whether to continue with her line of questioning—“it happened.”
I looked at Jamie, a little horrified by what my roommate had said, and saw something in him change—something that reminded me of his father. “So, you filled Justine in, eh?”
“I guess you could say that,” Holly simpered, too drunk for shame.
“I wish you hadn’t done that.”
I reached out and touched his arm, wondering why I felt the need to comfort him. “It’s okay.”
He turned to me, “No, it’s not.”
I looked at Holly, unsure of his meaning, and was saved once again by the waitress who arrived bearing a Long Island iced tea.
“I ordered for you,” Jamie offered. “Someone told me it was your favorite.”
Holly looked ready to crawl in a hole as I grabbed the drink and took a gulp. Usually, I was too level-headed to cure my troubles with alcohol, but this was a special occasion.
Four swallows later and I was ready to crawl in a hole myself.
The room grew watery around the edges and I felt myself leaning on Jamie, who was becoming increasingly attentive. Remembering that I had to use the bathroom, I excused myself and found Holly not far behind, chattering in my ear about how Jamie seemed to like me and she sure hoped she hadn’t screwed anything
up by mentioning the accident.
Bladders emptied, my companions seemed ready to call it a night. I sat waiting for Jamie to offer me a ride, but he seemed hesitant, as though the simple gesture might upend something unspoken.
Looking around, I saw Dave and Holly waiting and felt a wave of humiliation wash over me—poor inebriated girl who couldn’t even get the guy who’d gotten her buzzed to drive her home.
And still, Jamie didn’t make a move as I felt the pounding music in my bones, felt the room gather heat and closed my eyes. The others were talking but I couldn’t make out what they were saying and I didn’t know it if was my own mind or the Long Island that had caused it.
I’ve been waiting…
I saw the girl slumped across the dashboard, her face peppered with pieces of glass and blood and the hazel eyes, which looked an awful lot like my own, were open and unseeing.
Which looked an awful lot like my own…
I recoiled from the sight, felt my butt rock in the chair and opened my eyes. The other three were gathered at loose ends and didn’t seem to notice when I pushed to my feet, gripping the back of a chair for support.
“I’m ready,” I managed.
“I’ll drive you home,” Jamie put a hand to my wrist.
“No,” I began. “I don’t want you to go out of your way.”
“It’s not out of my way.”
“See, J,” Holly said, “It’s not out of his way.”
I turned on her, “Thanks for pointing that out.”
She flashed me a thumbs-up.
A few moments later we were standing in front of his truck, a jacked-up blue Chevy with a bumper sticker that read Arctic Cat Kicks Ass. Taking a breath, I climbed inside and buckled my seatbelt.
No one had told me not to, but sitting alone in a truck with a man who may or may not have killed his fiancée didn’t seem like a good idea. Glancing out the window, I saw him pull out of the parking lot and onto the highway, saw the ever-present birch, pine, and cedar whiz by in the arc of our headlights.
“Thanks for driving me home,” I finally spoke.
“No prob,” he answered. “I think those two want to be alone.”
I laughed lightly, looked back out the window as we picked up speed.
Several minutes passed and I wondered how we could have been so comfortable at Three Fires and so awkward here.
It’s not like Jamie knew I had a vision about the accident or had seen what type of car they’d been driving because it all could have been a stupid daydream. But if I was right, and the car really had been a black Jetta…
But how could I ask him?
I was just gathering the courage to put my reporter cap back on when he spoke.
“If I tell you something do you promise not to freak out?”
As if I wasn’t freaked out enough.
“You look like Karen.” He paused, unsure. “My fiancée.”
“I do?” All the worse for me.
“Yeah. It’s kind of weird to be driving you home. But kind of familiar, too.”
“Is that why you wanted to do it?” I asked.
He didn’t answer, but one sideways glance told me I’d insulted him.
“Jamie—”
“It’s okay.” He shrugged. “Fair question.”
“No, it isn’t,” I looked down. “It isn’t fair at all.”
He didn’t answer, just reached over and turned the radio up and I was left thinking about Karen and what part of me resembled her. Was it the wavy blonde hair? The hazel eyes? The way I dressed or talked or moved?
Was it driving Jamie crazy right now, having someone who looked like her sitting beside him? Was he going off the deep end? Driving me into the woods to abandon me…or worse. The roads didn’t seem familiar. Not that that said much.
“Are you taking me back to Lantern Creek?”
He nodded, fiddling with the radio again until he settled on a song by the Eagles. “This is a good one,” he said. “Nothin’ like an Ol’ 55.”
I nodded. It was good. And eerie. And I wanted to go home. “Why didn’t you take the road we came in on?”
“I know a shortcut.”
“Oh,” I said lamely, feeling quite helpless as I watched the speedometer creep past seventy. Reaching across my shoulder, I tightened my seat belt.
“Sorry,” he took his foot off the gas and glanced my way, “I’m not really myself tonight. I probably should have stayed home to tell you the truth. It’s been a year. Exactly.”
“Oh, geez,” I began, the talk-laugh there again. “I had no idea—”
“It’s not something I like to bring up on a first date.”
I didn’t say anything, but dropped my hands and fingered my bracelet, a string of green beads Mom had given me last Christmas.
“Karen’s folks didn’t like me,” he began, and I thought I would let him vent. Get it all out of his system and then maybe the creepy feeling would go away. “They thought a guy who rakes leaves for a living wasn’t good enough for their princess.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, looking out the window again for something, anything, that was familiar.
“Took them a long time to warm up. But not Karen—we knew right away it was the real deal. You ever feel that way?”
I thought about my lousy taste in men and wondered if I had ever really been in love since Dad skipped town.
“Sorry. I shouldn’t be talking about her.”
“Jamie—”
“I know it’s weird.”
“It’s okay.”
He seemed to consider my words, lost in thought as we sped through an intersection without stopping. “Shit,” he cursed under his breath. “I think I saw a bear in the woods.”
“What?” I asked, unsure if he was serious or using some form of northern lingo when I saw the flashing lights of a police cruiser closing in on us from behind.
“Is that the bear?”
Jamie nodded. “How fast was I going?”
“Eighty,” I said, an odd sort of relief sweeping through me as he pulled off on a wide stretch of road just this side of nowhere.
We waited in strained silence as the cop switched on his searchlight and stepped from his cruiser. Moments later the officer was at the window.
“Stoddard?”
And the curt reply.
“Locke.”
I looked closer and felt the wind leave my lungs.
I’d dreamed him up a thousand times since our first meeting, imagining what I’d say if he ever asked about the doctor and here he stood in the middle of the woods giving my date a speeding ticket.
“Dylan?”
Jamie turned to me, his face marked with confusion. “You know each other?”
Dylan’s smile did not reach his eyes. “She ran me off the road.”
“Holly ran you off the road.”
“But you got the worst of it,” he paused, and I noticed how good he looked in uniform, just as I’d imagined, and how he seemed to be holding his emotions in check with some degree of effort.
“Were you hurt?” Jamie asked while reaching up to squeeze my shoulder, a gesture I found suspect and infuriating.
“She was bleeding,” Dylan answered for me. “Ever get to the doctor?”
I averted my eyes from the reproach I was certain I’d see.
“So, you don’t keep your promises.”
“Usually I do,” I found myself stammering. “But money’s tight and I couldn’t afford—”
“A trip to the E.R.”
I looked up and caught his gaze again, one second turning into several before I had the strength to break what we’d started.
“Guess I should pay my spies more.”
I laughed, then put a hand to my face to hide the color that had risen there, jerking spontaneously when I heard Jamie snap, “Gonna give me the fucking ticket or what?”
I glanced at Dylan, suddenly embarrassed by the company I kept and saw his face harden.
“Knock over
a few tonight?”
“None of your business.”
I wanted to laugh at the irony but refrained when Dylan repeated his question.
Jamie smirked. “Calm down, Do-Right, I just had a couple of beers. I’m perfectly capable of driving her home.”
“Think so?”
I sat, watching Dylan watch Jamie, then shifted my gaze to the latter. He seemed more inebriated than I remembered. But what did I remember after seven jello-shots and a Long Island?
“I’m a careful guy,” Jamie continued. “No matter what people seem to think.”
“Never said you weren’t.”
“You didn’t have to.”
Dylan didn’t respond, just shifted to his other foot and I was left wondering what had happened between these two.
“Where were you headed?”
“Back to Lantern Creek.”
“By way of Chicago?”
I stifled a giggle, reached up to cover my mouth and was surprised to find my upper lip slick with something I prayed wasn’t what I thought it was.
I tried to cover it, tried not to let Dylan see but it was too late because Jamie was nudging me. “Your nose is bleeding.”
“My nose?” I asked, unable to understand why it would start up again when Dylan was around. At this rate, he was going to think I couldn’t control my bodily functions.
“Mystery solved,” he said.
“What mystery?” I asked, digging in my purse for a Kleenex.
“The blood on your hand that night. You must get nosebleeds.”
I squeezed my nostrils together as Alvin the Chipmunk answered, “No, I don’t!”
Dylan turned to Jamie, civil for the first time since our encounter began, “How much did she drink tonight?”
Jamie shrugged. “Not much.”
I wasn’t sure what sort of girls he was used to, but seven jello-shots and a Long Island seemed respectable enough.
“How much is that?”
The two of them talking over me as though I didn’t exist made me furious and frustrated and just this close to flipping them off and walking home. “I’m perfectly capable of answering for myself, thank you very much!”
I saw Dylan’s eyes crinkle at the corners. “I don’t doubt that, but I’m still waiting for Stoddard to tell me where you’re headed.”
