Ideal Image: Snapshot, #2

by Freya Barker

  IT’S BEEN A STRUGGLE keeping it a secret that we know about Becca’s birthday. Especially since every time Mak declares liking something in the store, Becca immediately agrees. I still don’t have a good grasp on what she likes.

  We’ve just trudged through Walmart, and are about to head across the road to the Stage store, when I have an idea. With the kids walking in front of us, I pull on Nick’s arm so he leans down.

  “I need you to take Mak and find us some balloons.”

  “Balloons?”

  “Yes. We’re killing two birds with one stone. We’ll need balloons and I’d rather keep it a surprise for Becca, but I also need to have Becca alone for a bit. Mak has a tendency to bulldoze right over her.” Nick chuckles at that observation. I don’t think anyone could miss the fact my daughter is a force to be reckoned with. As an afterthought, I add, “By the way, you need to threaten Mak within an inch of her life, if she spills the beans.”

  “Gotcha,” he agrees easily. “So what’s the plan?”

  “You drop us off across the street and then I’m guessing The Dollar Tree for party supplies, or you could come back here to Walmart.”

  “Okay.”

  “There’s a folded tarp with the spare wheel in the hatch. Toss that over the balloons in the back. Maybe give us half an hour?” He nods and leans down for a quick kiss, before we follow the girls into the parking lot.

  As planned, Nick drops us off after he—quite creatively—tells Mak he needs her help with a present for me. The wistful look on Becca’s face as they drive off kills me, but I remind myself it’s for the greater good.

  “You and me, kiddo. Let’s go find something special for you.”

  It’s tempting for me to buy anything and everything she touches or looks at. There’s nothing I would like more than to spoil the kid, but I’d rather make her happy with a little thing every now and then, so she can hold onto the magic, than to give her everything at once, and leave her with nothing to look forward to.

  It’s funny how in the end, Becca’s tastes are quite different from Mak’s. Where Mak is more of a tomboy and loves jeans, logo shirts, Chucks, and Doc Martens. Becca’s preference is more girlish, feminine, like the floral underwear she chose. She’s into jeans too, but hers have little embroidered embellishments on the pockets, and her T-shirts have a touch of glitter or a little ruffle. She loves Chucks as well, but prefers them in purple or shiny, and apparently she adores jewelry.

  I’m stacking the clothes on the checkout counter, when I notice her twirling the tabletop jewelry rack. One side of the rack in particular she keeps coming back to. It’s a collection of silver charms, of all kinds, that are to be paired with a simple silver bracelet.

  I hand the girl behind the counter my credit card, as I watch Becca closely as she slightly runs her fingers over a few of the charms. There are a few letter Bs, but one that is decorated with little pink stones she seems to like best. It’s an easy decision, and when the girl hands me my card back, I turn to Becca.

  “Could you do me a favor? I forgot to grab one thing, but Nick and Mak could be here any second now. Would you mind waiting outside and keeping an eye out for them? I’ll just be a minute.”

  “Sure,” she says, smiling. “And thank you for my clothes.”

  On impulse I bend down and kiss her forehead. I’ve tried to be careful with too much physical affection, because she seems to shirk from it a little, but this time she doesn’t flinch.

  “Thank you, sweet girl, for being awesome.” Hardly adequate words to describe how full my heart is right now, but I don’t want to freak her out if I start gushing. Instead, I shove the bags in her hands, “Here, take these,” and gently turn her in the direction of the door.

  The girl behind the counter shares my enthusiasm, and soon we have a bracelet picked out, the B with the pink stones, and as she suggests a pretty butterfly, I find a horseshoe to add. Every so often, I check over my shoulder to make sure I can still see Becca.

  It’s tempting to buy every little charm, but the whole point of the exercise is to give her something that continues to hold promise. In the end, I buy one for Mak as well, with an M and another horseshoe, but I’ll put that away for Christmas.

  When I turn to the door, Becca’s gone.

  “Did you see where she went?” I ask the girl behind the counter, who just shrugs her shoulders.

  I fly outside just as Nick pulls up in the Subaru.

  “What’s wrong?” he says immediately, rolling down the window.

  “Becca...she’s gone.”

  NICK

  The balloons were easy enough; I just let Mak go to town, although I did put a halt on it when we reached ten. I had no idea balloons cost that much. They were all filled with helium and weighed down with the tarp in the back, as instructed. We’d have to work hard to keep Becca distracted, because it’s not easy to hide balloons.

  The Ute Gallery I took her to after, was a bit more challenging. I hadn’t been lying when I told Mak I wanted to get something for Stacie, she just wasn’t quite the help I’d anticipated.

  The stuff she picked out was mostly colorful beadwork that was beautiful and intricate, but didn’t exactly spell Stacie to me. For me, the classic combination of silver and turquoise was more appropriate, and we finally managed to agree on a beautiful rustic silver-molded wristband, with a floral medallion inlaid with different shades of the blue-green stone.

  Mak almost jumped out of her skin with excitement, so when I told her we’d have to wait until tonight to give it to her, she was very disappointed. But with Mak that doesn’t seem to last long, and on the way back she was prattling on about Becca’s surprise party, Maisy, and her new Doc Martens boots. In that order.

  The kid has the attention span of a gnat, but man, I fucking love listening to her.

  I just pull up in front of Stage when Stacie comes running outside, looking around frantically. I roll down the window and barely have a chance to see what’s up; when she says she can’t find Becca.

  “How long?” I ask, putting the SUV in park and getting out, because Stacie looks like she’s about to lose it. “Look at me,” I urge her, putting my hands on her shoulders to ground her. “How long since you saw her?”

  A dark shadow steals over her face

  “It’s my fault. I asked her to wait out here. It was a ploy so I could quickly buy her present. I told her to be on the lookout for you. It’s been maybe between five and ten minutes. Not long at all.”

  “Then she’s close.”

  I scan the fronts of the stores and parking lot, but I don’t see her. It’s a Saturday, so the parking lot is full and I’m sure someone should’ve seen something. Although it doesn’t seem like her, it’s always possible she popped into another store.

  “Okay, you go check the stores on either side, I’m going to drive around to the ones across the parking lot. Meet you back here. Don’t panic. She’s somewhere,” I reassure Stacie, who nods sharply as she pulls herself together.

  “What’s going on?” Mak pipes up from the back seat.

  “We have to look for Becca,” I explain, pulling away from the curb.

  “But I just saw her.”

  My eyes shoot up to look at her in the rearview mirror.

  “Where?”

  “She was just talking to her brother around the corner when we drove up.”

  I pull on the wheel and make a U-turn on the spot, ignoring the angry horn from the car behind me.

  “Where around the corner?”

  “By the dumpster in the alley.”

  I remember the narrow one-way alley at the end of this strip mall and turn in, effectively blocking it. My eyes land on Becca who stands in front of the dumpster, looking unharmed, but I can’t see her brother.

  “Stay in the car,” I bark at Mak, as I get out. “Are you okay?” Becca nods her head, red curls bouncing.

  “I’m fine,” she says, before turning behind her. “It’s okay, they won’t hurt you.” />
  I barely recognize the kid stepping out from behind the dumpster. Sure, he’s still lanky, and his hair is even longer, but last time I saw him he was cocky and wearing a clear fuck you scowl on his face. Now his shoulders are slumped, his head is down, and the expression is one of fear.

  Before I have a chance to say anything, I hear the crunch of running footsteps and turn around to see Stacie coming around the SUV. She doesn’t stop for me, but goes right for Becca, folding her in a tight hug.

  “Jesus, I was scared. What are you doing here? Why did you take off?” Then she spots the brother, who seems to be taking the spectacle in with some interest. “You!” she spits at him and almost goes after him, but his little sister holds onto Stacie’s arm.

  “He was worried about me,” she says in her little girl whiskey voice. “He’s scared the sheriff will put him away.”

  “Why?” I ask. “I know he was looking to talk to you about what happened to your mom.”

  “I’ll just get blamed for that. I know how it goes. I don’t wanna go to jail.” The poor kid is fighting tears.

  “I told you they locked Kevin up,” Becca tells her brother.

  “It’s true,” I add, “They did. Last week, didn’t you know that?” The instant relief on his face would be comical if it wasn’t so tragic.

  “Been hiding, living in the car. I haven’t been back to Dolores. Saw Becca coming out of the store and wanted to make sure she’s doing okay.”

  “She’s staying with us,” Stacie offers, looking down at the girl, who smiles back, her eyes happy behind her glasses.

  “Listen, let me call the sheriff, he’s a friend of ours,” I suggest, thinking that Drew would likely know where a kid like this might get some help. At least he’d be a good place to start. “You probably don’t believe me, but ask your sister; he’s been good to her.”

  “I’ll just go,” the kid says, already looking for a way to get around us.

  “Up to you,” Stacie says, walking right up to him, unintimidated, even if the kid’s about a head taller than she is. “But wouldn’t you rather take this chance to do life the right way? Learn how to make a living you can be proud of, never having to worry where your next meal will come from, or where you’ll sleep tonight? Not having to look over your shoulder all the time because you never know when it all catches up with you?” She puts a hand on his arm and I can almost see him stiffen. Christ, how long since someone touched him kindly? If ever? “I promise you, I’ll look after your sister—we’ll look after her,” she corrects herself, looking at me over her shoulder. Next she digs through her purse, fishes out a piece of paper and a pen, and scribbles something down. “Tell you what; think about it. We’re not going to hold you back. I’ve written down our phone numbers and also the sheriff’s number. If you want to check how Becca is doing, call one of us. If you want to straighten yourself out and have a shot at building a good life for yourself, start by calling that number for the sheriff.”

  He looks up, from where he was staring at his worn sneakers, at the piece of paper Stacie is holding out to him. He turns to look at Becca, and then at me, before his gaze lands on Stacie.

  “Please. For Becca,” I see her mouth at him, and finally he takes the note from her hand and stuffs it in his pocket.

  He walks up to his sister and pushes her chin gently with his fist.

  “Be good.”

  “I will,” she says, smiling sadly.

  Without another word, he takes off on a run, disappearing around the SUV.

  “WHAT IS THIS FOR?” Stacie looks at the pretty wrapped box I just put in her hand.

  We’re still at the table, having just finished dinner. Pops announced dessert, which the kids are pretty excited about. Especially since the apple crisp apparently comes with vanilla ice cream. So they are in the kitchen ‘helping’ Pops get it ready, and I thought I’d grab the moment.

  “We’ve talked about a future, even making a family, but we haven’t really discussed marriage.” I smile at the way her blue eyes go wide. “Sooo...” I teasingly drag on. “If it were up to me, I’d have a ring in that box, but knowing how quirky you can be with surprises...” I get a thump on my shoulder for that. “I decided to get you this instead. Call it a promise.”

  “You gave it already?” Mak walks in, precariously balancing two bowls in her hands. “Did she like it?”

  “I have to open it first,” Stacie says, smiling.

  Becca comes in with Pops following right behind, with the remainder of the desserts. She sidles up to Stacie on the other side of Makenna, and I smile at the picture the three of them make, with their heads bent together.

  “It’s beautiful!” Stacie exclaims when she opens the box and pulls the silver band out, fitting it immediately around her left wrist, the one with the scars.

  “Looks so pretty on you,” Becca says.

  “I helped pick it,” Mak announces.

  “It’s gorgeous. Thanks, honey.” Stacie bends toward me and I meet her halfway, accepting her sweet kiss.

  While she admires the bracelet with the girls, I look to the end of the table where Pops sits. He glances at me with the hint of a smile on his face, and winks before turning his attention to the bowl in front of him with gusto.

  “Eat,” he orders. “It’s all gonna melt.”

  The girls scramble back to their seats and start eating. Beside me, Stacie is making the most distracting sounds as she digs in, moaning with every bite.

  “This is so delicious,” she mumbles with her mouth full. “Everything was delicious, thank you so much, Henry.”

  “Pops,” my father grunts. “The name is Pops.”

  CHAPTER 32

  Stacie

  “Quick, bring it all into the kitchen.” I wave Jen inside. “Nick took the kids up to Henry’s fishing hole upriver. It about killed me this morning not to wish her a happy birthday, Jen—killed me.”

  “Jen,” Henry greets my friend, as he relieves her of the boxes she’s carrying and sets them on the counter. “What’d you all bring us? Looks enough food for an army.”

  “Three of those are the cake, which I still have to assemble, and I made sausage rolls. I thought it might go with the chili Stacie tells me you’re making.”

  “Slow simmering in the Crock-Pot since last night,” he says, proudly lifting the lid so Jen could take a whiff. “It was Stacie’s idea,” he adds, “although she’ll soon discover why it was not necessarily a good one. Us Flynns have a very responsive digestive system.”

  Jen laughs while I roll my eyes. I’ve heard the jokes a few times already, and they can bring it on. They haven’t met Mak on beans yet.

  “Oh my God, it’s beautiful!” I exclaim when Jen opens the biggest box and lifts out a large round cake, covered in what looks like a cloud of spun sugar.

  “Wait until I’m done,” Jen suggests, pulling a second, smaller cake out of the next box. And in the third box is a collection of intricately made butterflies. Their wings look like the edges of a doily, with beautiful perforated patterns.

  I want to stay and watch, but there’s another knock at the door, so I leave the cooks to their domain, and start playing hostess. Isla arrived early and helped put up the balloons and garland that Nick picked up yesterday, and already a few gifts have collected on the small table beside the couch. That is my sister-in-law; she does nothing in half measures. Evidence of which is standing outside on the porch when I open the door.

  “Neil!”

  “Are we too late for the surprise?” he asks, his arm around a pretty blonde woman I vaguely recall from Ben and Isla’s wedding. “By the way, you remember my wife, Kendra, right?”

  “Of course.” I smile, relieved that he reminded me, and shake her proffered hand. “Nice to see you again, Kendra. And no, you’re not too late, come in. Nick took the girls out but they should be back in the next ten or fifteen minutes.”

  I barely have their coats dumped in one of the bedrooms, when Drew shows up, a bouquet o
f pretty flowers in his hand.

  “Girl’s gotta have flowers on her birthday,” he says almost sheepishly. I can’t help but hope that one day, some woman is going to knock this charmer on his ass. Despite his teasing manner and player game, our sheriff hides a sensitive side a mile wide. It’ll just take the right woman to tap into that.

  “They’re lovely. Let me put them in water.” I lean in, kiss his cheek, and take the flowers into the kitchen. Drew follows me.

  “Wow,” I hear him say behind me. “That’s some cake.”

  I notice, to my surprise, Jen blushing at his comment. I haven’t known her that long, but I’m positive I’ve never seen her blush before.

  The cake is stunning, the second tier is not centered, but offset to one side, so the edge aligns with the rim of the larger layer underneath. What looks like glass, or maybe clear plastic long dowels, are used to separate the layers. She draped more cotton candy over the little cake, with the odd tendril drooping off the sides to the base layer below. The entire design gives the cake a light and airy feel. To add whimsy, she is mounting the intricate butterflies with a dollop of gumpaste to long silver wires and sticks them randomly in the cake; the overall effect is a swarm of butterflies hovering over a cloud.

  “Thanks,” she mutters to Drew’s words.

  “It is stunning,” I add, folding her in a big hug. “Becca is going to love it.”

  “I didn’t see your car out there?” Drew pipes up. Jen steps out of my hold and turns to face him.

  “I was dropped off,” she says, turning back to the cake, but I notice her hand is a little unsteady.

  “I’ll drop you home later,” Drew announces in a tone that does not invite objections, yet Jen does just that.

  “No need,” she says, her tone a little sharper. “I’m being picked up.”

  I look at Henry, who is looking back at me, one eyebrow raised. Okay, so I’m not crazy and something is up. Looks like it’s time for me to stop by for a macchiato sometime this week.

  The tension is broken when Ben barrels in the front door, baby Noah in a carrier in his hands and a diaper bag slung on his shoulder. It still makes me chuckle to see my badass, motorcycle riding, silver-haired, and tattooed brother, toting around that cute little critter.