Mr. and Mrs. Wrong

by Fay Robinson

  Far off but coming closer, the heavy crunch of leaves intruded on the stillness. Something large was moving through the woods.

  As quietly as she could, she sat up and brought the camera to her eye. She’d probably get only two or three shots of the panther before the sound of the autowinder scared him off. Each shot had to count. Except…this couldn’t be an animal; it was making too much noise. Only a human thrashed around like that.

  The land sloped to the water down a hill tangled with plant growth. On her way out of the cabin, Lucky had grabbed her old Canon with its zoom lens, and she used it to focus on the faintly discernible path made by the tread of deer.

  A man emerged with his head down, unaware of her presence, and went straight to the water. He crouched as if to take a drink, but instead, sank his bare arms in the water to the elbows. He brought them up, then slapped the surface several times, letting out a squeal each time.

  Lucky continued to watch, feeling a bit anxious at the peculiarity of it. He seemed to be almost…playing.

  Suddenly he sensed her and jerked up his head. Her viewfinder framed a face that represented every nightmare she’d had since the age of nine.

  Terrell Wade.

  She sucked in a breath. Fear kept her frozen, unable to move. She’d known the autistic man was back in Potock. Leigh had written a story at the time of his relocation.

  He wasn’t supposed to be out unsupervised. The idea of him wandering around by the river and only a couple of miles from her cabin sent a chill running along Lucy’s backbone.

  No more than fifteen feet separated them. If he took a few steps to his right, he’d be close enough to the bow of her boat to get in.

  She lowered her camera bit by bit so as not to startle him, until it hung heavily by the strap around her neck. If he made a move, she wanted to be able to grab something to defend herself. She might have time to get the motor cranked if he came at her, but maybe not.

  For what seemed an eternity, he did nothing but stare back from his catlike position. That in itself was enough to unnerve her. She’d never seen his eyes before. She couldn’t recall him ever holding his head high enough that anyone could see his eyes. He’d always kept his face down when you came near, as if ashamed or afraid.

  Did he remember what she’d done to him?

  Did he even recognize her as the child who had condemned him?

  He cocked his head, then sprang upright. Lucky jumped just as quickly and lunged forward, but her sudden movement upset the boat and set it rocking. For a heartbeat she held on to the paddle and her balance, but then she lost both. The paddle flew out of her hand into the water and the lens of her camera bounced up and smacked her above the left eye, nearly knocking her out.

  What people said about seeing stars was true. They sparkled for a second in front of her, then gave way to pain. Blood clouded her vision.

  The boat drifted. She scrambled for the motor, pushed the primer button and pulled the cord, but it didn’t crank. Desperately she hit the button again. A second and third pull of the cord produced no results.

  Terrell moved, coming along the bank as she feared.

  Ten feet away.

  He had something in his hand.

  Five feet away.

  He stepped into the boat and reached out toward her.

  Once, when Lucky was small, she’d picked up a pretty black-and-red-striped ant that had promptly stung her hand. She’d screamed so loud that her granddaddy had said she’d blistered his eardrums.

  The scream she let out this time was louder.

  WITH CAL’S HELP, Jack hauled over what personal items he needed for the next few days and set about replacing the old fan in the living room with something that actually stirred the air. He’d bought a second unit to install in the bedroom.

  When he was growing up, he’d promised himself he’d never live in another dump, that when he had a house of his own, it would be a nice house, nothing too fancy, but sturdily built and roomy enough to raise kids the way they should be raised.

  He never again wanted to wonder if the water was hot or the refrigerator had food. He’d had his fill of peeling paint, cast-off furniture and paper-thin walls.

  He looked around and shook his head. Well, this dump, at least, was clean. No rats trying to take a bite out of him in the middle of the night. No bugs except the ones Lucky caught to photograph.

  Snakes…now, that was something he’d have to talk to her about. Snakes inside were unacceptable from now on, along with any kind of animal, dead or alive, except for her dog.

  With some work, he could make the cabin more livable. New plasterboard for the walls and fresh paint would help. New tin for the roof and exterior would go a long way toward making it look better.

  He sincerely hoped they’d be gone before the cold weather came. He could tolerate cold, and winters here were mild compared to what he’d experienced in Pittsburgh, but he’d found out the hard way that the dampness penetrated everything on the river. The few months he’d spent with Lucky in the cabin last winter had been miserable for him.

  The rent at his apartment was paid through the end of next month, so he’d decided to keep most of his clothes there and move the rest only when he had no other choice.

  The cabin had an attached storage room with a rack for hangers, but Lucky had fishing poles, life jackets and God knows what else crammed in there. She’d have to clean out her junk again to make space for him to put his good shirts and suits.

  “This clunker’s been here a lot of years,” Cal said from the stepladder. He loosened the last screw on the fan and together they brought it down and set it on the floor. “I was only a kid when Dad and my granddaddy put it up.”

  “Did your dad grow up here?”

  “Sure did. Him and my uncle Steve. My grandmother hated the place, but Granddaddy’s people had lived here for generations, so he wouldn’t budge.”

  “Sounds familiar.”

  “Yeah,” Cal said with a nod, “pretty much the same story as you and Lucky.”

  Jack stepped back and the dog let out a yelp. He knelt and petted her. “Sorry, Beanie, but you’ve got to stay out from under my feet.” She looked up at him with big eyes that said he was forgiven, thumping her tail against the floor.

  Her breed was indecipherable. She had the face of a hound, but her body seemed an amalgamation of hound and terrier. Black, shaggy hair covered all of her except her muzzle, which had turned gray with age.

  Usually her hair drooped and covered her eyes, making him wonder how she could possibly see. Since today was a special occasion, he’d pinned it back with a pink bow-shaped barrette, an old one of Lucky’s from when her hair was long.

  The dog wasn’t pretty, but she was the first pet he’d ever owned, and he liked the experience. Well, technically she belonged to Lucky, but Beanie didn’t understand that.

  “The more time that dog spends with you, the more worthless she becomes,” Cal said. “Could she get any fatter?”

  Beanie thumped her tail again, knowing they were talking about her. She seemed to smile.

  “She doesn’t like dog food,” Jack explained.

  “And why should she when you feed her junk all the time? Has Lucky seen her lately?”

  “Not in a few weeks.”

  “Oh, man, you’re going to be in big trouble.”

  Jack made the dog lie down in front of the couch out of the way, then unpacked the new fan. He rechecked to make sure the power was off, then Cal helped him position the new unit and secure it.

  “Did your grandfather ever consider moving away from here?” he asked, continuing their earlier conversation.

  “Papa Sam?” Cal snorted. “Imagine a male version of Lucky, and that’s a pretty good description of my granddaddy. He thought the river was heaven. You couldn’t pry him out of here with a crowbar, even after he started having heart problems. He dropped dead right out there by the water.”

  “I don’t understand what’s supposed to be s
o great about this place.”

  “Me, neither, to tell you the truth. Leigh, Shannon and I used to hate coming out to visit because there wasn’t anything to do, but Lucky spent most of her time here. She would’ve lived with Papa Sam if our mom had let her. When he died, no one was surprised that he left the land and cabin to Lucky. She’s the only one who ever really appreciated them. And Mema was thrilled to move in with Mom and Dad.”

  “I’ve tried to adjust, but there’s no damned space, and she has all these weird things she’s picked up and won’t throw away.”

  Cal laughed heartily at that. “You should’ve seen it in here three or four years ago. She’s given a lot to the museum over in Tuscaloosa, the stuff with value, anyway.”

  “It couldn’t have been much worse than this.”

  “Oh, brother, you wouldn’t have believed it. You never saw the pine tree she had growing up through the house.” He pointed to a corner where the plywood had been patched. “It pushed right through a rotten place in the floor and Lucky thought it was the coolest thing she’d ever seen. She wanted to leave it and open a hole in the roof for it to grow through.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “I swear. It took us a couple months to convince her that a tree growing up through the living room wasn’t such a good idea.”

  “There’s no place to store anything and hardly room to sleep. I don’t know what we’ll do when—” He stopped himself, realizing what he was about to reveal.

  But it didn’t make any difference. Cal grinned. “When the baby comes?” he supplied.

  “She told you?”

  “No, but I’m not as stupid as she and Leigh think. Lucky’s hardly ever sick and she’s never squeamish, but suddenly she’s puking every morning and you’re moving back in. It wasn’t too tough to figure out what was going on.”

  “So Leigh knows, too.”

  “I’m pretty sure she does. They’ve been whispering behind closed doors.”

  Leigh arrived a few minutes later with her daughter, Susan. The child went off to play in the yard with a warning from her mother to stay out of the water and off the pier.

  Leigh walked to the kitchen table and set down a covered bowl and a bag of chips.

  “Lucky’s pregnant,” Cal announced.

  Leigh gasped. “Pregnant? You’re kidding!”

  Her performance was poor. Deliberately poor, Jack suspected. She wasn’t surprised. And she wanted him to know that Lucky had confided in her.

  “Drop the act, Leigh,” he said. “How long have you known?”

  “I only found out yesterday morning.”

  He gritted his teeth. Damn! Had everyone known?

  “Before you get all bent out of shape, Jack, she didn’t actually tell me. I guessed.” She looked around, frowning. “Where is she, by the way?”

  “She left a note saying she was taking the boat out for a couple of hours.” He glanced at his watch. She should’ve been back by now.

  “I noticed the change in Lucky,” Leigh said, pulling two gallon jugs of iced tea from a sack, “because I’m with her every day. If you weren’t around to see something was different, you have only yourself to blame.”

  Touché. Leigh always went for the jugular.

  “I admit I’ve made some mistakes, Leigh, but I’m trying to fix them. I’ve moved back in.”

  “So I hear. Frankly, I think that’s a mistake.”

  “Jeez,” Cal said, “give the guy a break.”

  “Does he deserve one? Walking out on our sister was pretty low. If it was me, I’d think twice before giving him a chance to do it again.”

  Jack reined in his temper, determined not to let Leigh get to him. “But Lucky isn’t you,” he told her, “so I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t interfere. This is between us.”

  “I haven’t interfered.”

  “Let’s keep it that way. She looks up to you and respects what you say. The last thing I need is you convincing her she can raise this baby alone.”

  She reddened, telling him he’d guessed correctly. Leigh was the one feeding Lucky ideas of divorce.

  “Look, Leigh,” he continued. “I’m sorry for everything you and Susan have been through during the past few years. I really am. God knows you didn’t deserve what Keith did to you. No woman should have to put up with that crap. But I’m not him. I didn’t abandon Lucky, and I’d sure as hell never walk away from my child like Keith did. You can’t punish me for what he did to you.”

  Her expression turned hard. “I’m not trying to. Lucky’s happiness is all that concerns me. I’ll do whatever is within my power to ensure she isn’t hurt.”

  “So will I.”

  Cal, forever the peacemaker, jumped in again. “Come on, guys, don’t argue. Not today. You don’t want to upset Lucky.”

  Jack and Leigh stared at each for several seconds, then both acquiesced.

  “He’s right,” Leigh said, but the hard edge remained in her voice. “This is silly. She doesn’t need the added stress of us going at each other.”

  “I agree.”

  Leigh peered out the kitchen window to the side of the house. “Mom and Dad are here, anyway. Mom would skin us both if she caught us fighting.”

  “Truce?” Jack offered. Matt and Ruth had always been good to him. Even during the separation they’d continued to treat him like a son. He didn’t want to upset them any more than he did Lucky.

  Leigh nodded. “All right, I’ll keep my mouth shut. For today.”

  Jack welcomed his in-laws. They’d brought food, which they took into the kitchen while he helped Lucky’s grandmother sit in a cool spot on the porch. At eighty-four she was still lovely. White hair. Striking blue eyes behind her glasses.

  He’d never met his own grandparents. If any were still alive, he didn’t know.

  She kept his hand, patting it affectionately. “I’m so happy to see you and my granddaughter back together.”

  “I’m glad, too.”

  “Be patient with her. She’s special.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “When Sam and I married, we were very different from each other, and I worried that would be a hindrance to our happiness. I didn’t share his love for this land and his river.”

  “That’s what Cal told me. Did you ever come to love it?”

  “Oh, not really. I like nice things, and Sam was happy in his overalls with a fishing pole in his hand. But as the years passed, I realized what made our marriage interesting was that we weren’t alike. Every day was a new challenge. Variety is the spice of life, they say. You’d do well to remember that.”

  “I will.”

  Lucky’s other sister, Shannon, and her husband, Bill, arrived a few minutes later with their daughters, ages two and five. Everyone was there but Lucky.

  “I’m getting worried about her, Cal,” Jack said, pulling him aside. “Her note said she’d be back by noon. It’s nearly three.”

  He’d told Lucky a million times to take her cell phone wherever she went in case she had trouble, but he’d noticed it earlier on the kitchen counter.

  “I’m sure she’s okay,” Cal said. “You know how she is when she gets interested in something. She loses all track of time.”

  “Yeah, I suppose.”

  But when another hour passed and Lucky still hadn’t returned, even Cal expressed concern. “Come on. Joe Mueller down at the marina will lend us a boat.”

  They explained to the others where they were going, but before they could leave, Leigh waved at them to stop. “I see her coming,” she said, rushing up to Cal’s truck. “She’s paddling. Looks like she had problems with the motor.”

  They waited for her on the pier. Lucky pulled up, threw a rope to Cal and asked him to tie the boat.

  “What the hell happened?” Jack asked.

  “I got in a hurry to crank the motor and flooded it.”

  “No, with your head, dammit! You’ve got a goose egg on it and blood all over your shirt.”

 
; “Good Lord,” Leigh said. “It is blood.”

  “It’s only a little bump. I had some trouble.”

  Jack took her camera bag and helped her out, then quickly examined the cut. It wasn’t bad, but she’d have a hell of a bruise. “What kind of trouble? Are you injured anywhere else?”

  “I’m okay.”

  “Do you need to go to the hospital emergency room?”

  “Heavens, no! I’m just a little shaken up. I was taking photos in a slough near where Mosquito Creek comes in, and I ran into Terrell Wade.”

  Cal shouted, “Shit!”

  “Oh, my heavens!” Leigh said.

  Shannon walked onto the pier and wanted to know what was going on. When Leigh told her, she screamed, and that brought Ruth, Matt, Bill and the children running.

  “Terrell Wade attacked Lucky,” Leigh told her parents.

  “No,” Lucky said, “that’s not—”

  “We should call the police,” Ruth said.

  Leigh pointed out that Jack was the police.

  “Then call for help and get some men out here.”

  They all started talking at once about what should be done, Ruth insisting that he not only call for backup, but notify the National Guard, as if they handled police complaints. Cal and Bill thought they should get guns and go after this Wade person.

  The talk of guns and the shouting got Shannon’s two-year-old crying, and that, in turn, set off the other little girls.

  “Hold it!” Jack said. “Shut up for a minute. Nobody’s getting guns and going after anybody.” He turned back to Lucky. “Did this man touch you or hurt you?”

  “No, I hurt myself. I banged my head with my camera.”

  “Who is Terrell Wade?”

  Lucky’s dad supplied the answer. Wade had murdered a local woman years ago, he said, but they’d never found the body or her missing car.

  “Suspected of murdering, Dad,” Lucky corrected him. “We don’t know for sure that he’s the one who did it.”