by Laura Kemp
Because I wasn’t buying that crap about Suzy Marsh committing suicide.
“I’m wearing a new top today.”
“I noticed.”
“You said you liked me in blue,” I offered as we passed a vendor selling elephant ears.
“I do,” he stopped, asked if I wanted one and I shook my head while assessing his appearance. Nothing too fancy for Deputy Locke, but he sure looked handsome in a black short-sleeved button down and faded blue jeans.
Yes, Dylan was definitely a catch bigger than Old Granddaddy Salmon and so I decided to test the whole ‘trust’ theory by bringing something up I didn’t want to talk about.
“Do you think Suzy Marsh looks like me?”
He stopped mid-stride.
“Not really.”
I put my hand on his arm. “Tell me the truth.”
He shrugged, but I could tell the subject bothered him. “There are a lot of pretty girls in Presque Isle County.”
I smiled, content with his flattery in my blue scooped necked top, khaki skirt and brown sandals, my hair pulled back in a messy ponytail, watching as people swarmed around us, some oblivious to my presence and some blatantly interested in who he was with. I caught a few girls giving me the ol’ Up and Down and felt my face turn four shades of red.
I wondered how many of the girls were exes, how many were wannabe-exes and how many just wanted to claw at my face for showing up with him. The thought that he’d had a romantic past apart from Karen and that some of those conquests might be alive and well and roaming the streets of Salmon Fest did not sit well with me.
“Want some?”
I turned to see him holding a cotton-candied finger inches from my face and shook my head, painfully aware of how public we’d become.
“What is it?” he asked again, his patience endearing.
I crossed my arms over my chest. “Everyone’s looking at us.”
He turned in the direction of my stare and waved to a group that had gathered near the entrance to the beer tent. “Lots of people come back to town for this.”
“I noticed.”
He chuckled. “Don’t worry. I got all of these girls out of my system in high school.”
“Don’t tease.”
“I can’t help it. You’re cute when you’re jealous.”
“I’m not jealous.”
“Sure,” he smiled. “Just like I’m not jealous of the guy with the full plate.” I grimaced at the thought before a mock punch to his left shoulder shifted our attention. Dave stepped into view, followed shortly by Holly—who emerged like Aphrodite from the greasy steam of a corn dog kiosk.
“Hey, kids,” Dave laughed. He was carrying a stuffed version of Sylvester the Cat and an extra-large Slushie, leaving Holly with only her designer purse and a look of pure adoration where her beau was concerned.
“Hey,” Dylan returned the punch and the two were off and running, talking about the docks and how many throws it had taken to win Sylvester and what Holly had said when the weird barker down by the pony rides guessed heavy on her weight.
I turned to my roommate, curious myself and found that she couldn’t wipe the smirk off her face. “You two certainly are the talk of the town.”
“What do you mean?” I asked, unconsciously pulling down on my skirt. “Are people staring?”
Holly rolled her eyes, tapped Dave on the shoulder and he handed over the Slushie. “Sure, they are, but so what? I’d rub it in all their nasty little faces.”
“Holl.”
“See that one over by the dunk tank? Green V-neck?” I followed her gaze and was saw a buxom girl with pale skin and long, red hair. “She’s wanted him since freshman year. Got her chance once when we were all drunk at the senior camp-out, but he never went back for seconds.”
I gave Holly a piteous look, one I hoped would shut her up, but she’d already visited the beer tent and could not be stopped. “Looks like she’s gonna pull out your hair if you get too close.” Turning her attention to another clump of vixens that had gathered near the bandshell, she said, “That one actually dated him for about a month. Thought they were gonna ride off into the sunset after graduation! Sur-prrrrise… Stupid bimbo used to make fun of me in gym class. Said my boobs made it across the finish line before I did.” She paused, took a gulp and then squinted in pain. “Who’s laughing now, bitch?”
“How much did you drink?”
“I’m high on life, Squirt.” She looked at me and laughed. “And to think my little roommate, the one I met through that guy I used to know who moved downstate would grow up and snag Dylan Locke. Never woulda guessed it, but hell—I’m riding this soul train ‘til it hits a wall.”
“Please stop,” I begged, grateful that our dates were still engaged in manly conversation and had missed the gist of her outburst.
“All right,” she conceded. “All I’m saying is it’s good to see him out and about. The meathead missed Salmon Fest last year on account of the accident.”
I reached out and gripped her arm. “You knew about Karen?”
She shrugged while taking a smaller, more cautious, sip. “Everyone knew. It was pretty friggin’ obvious.”
I stole another glance at the redhead and was relieved to see she’d moved on towards the Ferris Wheel. “Do you think they’re all wondering why he’s dating someone who looks so much like her?”
Holly stepped back, raised one eyebrow. “Now that you mention it, you do kinda bear a certain resemblance.”
“Oh, geez,” I said. “I bet they think I’m a clueless idiot.”
Holly reached over, put an arm around my shoulder while touching her head to mine. “I wouldn’t say clueless.”
I frowned as our dates turned and rejoined the conversation.
“Wanna get something to drink?” Dylan asked, ever the chivalrous gentleman where my hydration was concerned.
I nodded. A beer sounded good, great, even, in light of Holly’s monologue.
I hadn’t taken more than ten steps when the carnival music went dead in my ears. I tried not to panic when I thought about all the girls watching us, just waiting for me to screw up, and scoped around for a place to sit. Adam had told me not to fight it, and I was going to take his advice.
I saw Dylan catch my eye, watched his lips form my name and heard nothing.
“I need to sit down,” I said, hoping the words came out right. “My lunch didn’t settle.”
I watched them search for a seat.
“Go on,” I instructed, my ears still numb. “I’ll catch up.”
I knew Dylan was reluctant, but then Dave gave him another punch and someone came up from behind to clap him on the shoulder and I was alone with a vision of Esther Ebersole in her white nightdress, combing her hair in front of a vanity mirror. Abraham appeared behind her, bent to kiss the soft curve of her neck and she put her hand to his face, turned in her chair and touched his lips with her own.
She spoke to him, told him she’d be to bed after she checked on the hired girl, her small feet making no sound on the wooden floor.
The back door was unlocked, and Esther opened it. Stepping outside into the autumn night, she made her way towards the barn where a lantern was burning in the stall of her husband’s favorite gelding.
She stopped just short of the barn, looked inside and in that instant a man stepped from the shadows. A man whose face was lost in shadow. A man in a long riding coat and leather boots.
Jonas Younts.
Esther paused, looked back at the house and then continued on, her feet leaving dusty footprints. In an instant she was in the man’s arms, her hands cupping his face as she covered it in kisses. They moved inward, toward the stall he’d lit with the lantern, his hands under her nightdress in an attempt to pull her bloomers down.
Before they could reach cover a noise from the house made them hesitate and Esther pulled away, the passion written plainly on her face. And beneath the passion was fear, then terror as Abraham strode into the barnyard,
pistol in hand.
“Step away from my wife!”
Esther screamed as he raised the barrel, screamed as he pointed the weapon at Jonas Younts, and then jumped between them.
I felt her fall, felt her body in space and time and knew that she had been hit and that the wound was fatal. I felt all this even as something closed around my waist, keeping me from hitting the ground as a familiar voice said my name.
“Oh,” I muttered, my eyes suddenly coming clear in the darkness, my body bent double over the rolling waves of the Big Lake.
I was on the breakwall, but how had I gotten out here? I’d never moved during a vision before.
“You okay?”
I blinked, images of Esther and Jonas still fresh when I saw his features suddenly materialize in the incandescent glow of Salmon Fest. Brown hair. Amber eyes. White shirt rolled at the sleeves—as they always were.
“Jamie?” I tried to stand up, tried to straighten my legs but found they would not work.
He eased me to a sitting position.
“What the hell’re you doing out here?”
How I’d reached my current position without tumbling into the lake was nothing short of a miracle, as was Jamie’s presence when I needed it most.
“I went for a walk.”
“Shoulda stuck to the beach.”
I nodded, unable to argue. “How did you know I was out here?”
“I followed you.”
My heart did a chirrup. “Why?”
He smiled. “Why not?”
“Umm, Lots of reasons. Like I could break your neck, for one.”
“Water under the bridge,” he smiled that crooked grin and I laughed out loud, almost believing him. “Beer and the breakwall don’t mix, didn’t they teach you that in grade school?”
“Not downstate,” I shook my head and tried to forget about the guy who was waiting for me on shore, the guy who would be pissed to know I was out here with Jamie Stoddard, vision or no vision.
“Thanks a lot,” I said as I stood and began to pick my way back towards shore. “But I’ve gotta go.”
“Always running away.”
I turned back, was struck by the white of his shirt against the black water. “Jamie—”
“Maybe I’m not the bad guy.”
I paused, disconcerted. “I never said you were.”
“Yes, you did.”
I turned toward the shore again, caught the sound of another person maneuvering the large boulders just in front of me and tried to focus. Soon Dylan came into sight, a frenzied speed to his movement as he spotted me.
“Justine!” he cried, pulling up short when he saw who stood behind me. “What the—”
“You should keep a better eye on your girl, Locke,” Jamie said, his tone thick with underlying contempt. “I might have to start charging double.”
Dylan looked to me.
“I came out here to clear my head,” I began. “And tripped on the rocks. Jamie caught me.”
“He what?”
“I caught her, Locke,” Jamie offered. “Just penance for my last major fuck-up.”
I saw Dylan tense, heard his breath catch and knew it took all his strength to keep from decking him right there. “Is that what you call it?” he finally asked, his body stiff with repressed rage.
Jamie’s face shifted, his irrepressible calm shattered by a simple question. “You have a better idea?”
“Not my idea,” Dylan paused, his face harder than I’d ever seen it. “Hers.”
Jamie flinched. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
“Karen knew you were on to us. Knew you wouldn’t take it lying down and she was right, wasn’t she?” I put my hand on Dylan’s arm, tried to calm him but he jerked away. “Tell me you weren’t thinking of me when you plowed her into that tree?”
Jamie grinned, but this time the gesture held no kindness. “I wasn’t thinking of anything but wiping that smile off her face.”
Dylan jerked forward, his hands twisted into fists. “Bastard,” he hissed, swinging once, then twice as his rival moved from one rock to the next with the grace of a dancer on even footing.
“Keep swinging, Locke. You might put yourself in the water again and damned if I’ll pull your ass out this time.”
“Keep talking, Stoddard, and I just might take you with me.”
Jamie laughed, his hubris high as Dylan lunged again, this time catching him on the side of the jaw. I tried to scamper out of the way, tried to let this be about two men duking it out but couldn’t and so reached for Dylan’s arm.
But he didn’t stop, just pulled away so suddenly I lost my balance as a knife’s edge of outcropped rock sliced the top of my hand.
Dylan turned, his anger dissolving as he knelt beside me, blood oozing from the cut. “Put pressure on it,” he instructed. “The bleeding should stop.”
“And if it doesn’t?” Jamie asked. A simple question, but I tensed.
“It’s only a scratch,” I said, annoyed with them. “But you two need to cool down.”
“Agreed,” Jamie said, circling us as casually as he would a toddler in the grass. “Good catching up with you, Justine.”
I looked away.
“Locke,” he nodded, rubbing his jaw. “Glad we could clear the air. It’s been a year in the making.”
I heard Dylan mutter an expletive. “You lucked out tonight, Stoddard. Touch her again and I’ll kill you.”
Jamie’s smile split his face. “Can’t kill what’s already dead.”
* * *
Salmon Fest was pretty much a bust after the breakwall incident.
I tried to cajole Dylan, tried to make him understand why I’d ended up out there in the first place, but nothing seemed to satisfy him.
“At least the bleeding stopped,” I offered.
He grunted something, still energized by his encounter with Jamie. “So, you take off half-blind and try to scale those rocks? Why didn’t you tell me you weren’t really sick? We could’ve sat it out somewhere until the vision passed.”
“I don’t know how I got out there.” I looked down. “Holly doesn’t know about my visions. Neither does Dave or all those girls who worship you and the last thing I need is for everyone to think you’ve hooked up with a psycho.”
He stopped short. “That’s what this is about? You’re afraid of what everyone will think?”
I shrugged.
“Who the hell cares? You almost fell into Lake Huron!”
I looked down.
“When you didn’t come to the beer tent, I asked around. One guy said he saw you walk towards the breakwall. I wouldn’t have made it in time, would’ve had to fish you out of the water so don’t pull this shit on me.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You keep saying that.”
“I promise I’ll tell you next time. I’ve already started locking the door and charging my phone and now I know that I need someone to help me stay put. It’s not like I know what the hell I’m doing. I’ve never been this weird before.”
Something in my speech must have moved him because he pulled me close and hugged me. “I’m serious, Justine. We’re in this together or I’m out.”
His words were like cold ice on a suntanned shoulder.
A moment passed before he spoke again, and in the interim, his voice softened into, “Wanna watch the fireworks?”
I glanced over my shoulder. “Dave and Holly?”
“Left awhile ago. Seems your roommate can’t hold her liquor.”
And so we wandered down the beach and away from the pulsating lights of Salmon Fest until we reached a cove whose only inhabitants included a man with a guitar, three girls and the campfire they had gathered around.
We stopped amongst an isolated copse of trees, strains of Ain’t No Sunshine filling the silence between us. Sitting down on a blanket of dried moss, he put an arm around my shoulder.
We sat for a long time, listening to the guitar and the low voices of tho
se assembled around it who were unaware of our presence as we sat hidden from view and in the company of darkness.
“I knew Karen all through school,” he said and I turned, looked at him and knew he’d been waiting for this moment. “It didn’t get serious until she started coming down to the docks when I worked Marine Patrol.”
“When did Jamie find out?” I asked, hoping my question wasn’t too forward, but he didn’t seem to mind. In fact, he seemed relieved.
“He asked her point blank one night. She couldn’t lie.”
“Were you friends with him before?”
“We never got along.”
“But,” I began, wondering if I should tell him what I knew. “You went fishing together. He saved your life.”
He let out a little sigh of contempt. “Is that what he told you? Whatever…I could have gotten out on my own. I was on the swim team.”
“But you didn’t get out on your own.”
“What is this?” he asked, suddenly defensive. “Stoddard pulls his hero act on the breakwall and suddenly you’re his biggest fan?”
I leaned away from him, suddenly uncomfortable with the contact. “I’m just trying to help you see the whole picture.”
“He killed her. Plain and simple.”
I sucked in my breath, “Dylan—”
“He told everyone who would listen how a deer ran into the road and he had to swerve. The other shoulder was clear, so how come he crosses the center line and rams her side of the car into the biggest cedar this side of the county line?”
“Maybe he didn’t have a choice.”
“He chose all right. He chose to take her out there knowing there wouldn’t be any witnesses, he chose to make up that bullshit about the deer and he chose to come to her funeral with his head stitched up whining about how much he loved her when all I could do was sit there and listen.”
I turned and touched his face, feeling his sorrow as surely as my own. “I’m sorry.”
“A part of me knew what we were doing was wrong, but I never thought when I kissed her goodbye that day it would be the last time.”
I tensed.
“J—”
“It’s okay. I know how you felt. I read the letter.”
