Dreamspinner Press Year Eight Greatest Hits

by Brandon Witt

  The fucker.

  If John Wallace had been smarter, he could have at least tried to claim that Wesley had set him up to it and get him involved in insurance fraud. Luckily, the man was as big a moron as he was a disgusting excuse for a human being.

  Wendy had been covered by insurance as well, and with her holding John Wallace at gunpoint as the police arrived, there was no doubt of her innocence. Wesley would have given anything to have seen that moment. Wendy and Jason had been on their way to take the kids to Shannon’s folks when they heard over the truck’s CB radio that the cops were headed to The Crocheted Bunny. It seemed that someone had noticed John Wallace moving around in the store and called the police. They had been nearly to Main Street when they heard the announcement, and Wendy had forced Jason to hightail it to her shop.

  Travis couldn’t stop laughing every time Jason retold how Wendy jumped out the passenger side before he’d even gotten into park, yelling for Jason to take care of the kids, then grabbed his rifle out of the lock box—which had been left opened in the rush to leave the fairground—in the truck bed.

  For his part, Wesley could just picture Wendy with the gun trained on John Wallace, the red, white, and blue broomstick skirt she’d worn that night whipping in the breeze as the blaze from the fire caused her red hair to glow wildly in the darkness. His vision was probably more dramatic than it had actually been, but that’s how he saw it, every time.

  Wendy sighed beside him. “You know, I know I’ve said it before, but I could seriously get used to this.” She leaned against the huge walnut tree at the edge of the playground. “It’s like vacation.”

  Wesley grinned, watching the twins as they played. It seemed Avery had decided to be Snow White. She was unmoving on the merry-go-round, her hair artfully splayed around her. As she lay in death-like sleep, Mason dutiful spun her around. Wesley wasn’t sure if the boy was supposed to be Prince Charming or one of the dwarves. “It is pretty nice, I’ve got to agree. I’m sure it would be different if either of us had a house payment we were worried about, though.”

  “But we don’t, so that’s the beauty of it all. We’re on an extended vacation.” She fluttered her fuchsia-hued broomstick skirt, stirring up a breeze in the muggy humidity. Her boots lay discarded under a nearby picnic table.

  A chime sounded from Wesley’s pocket. He withdrew his cell and glanced at it. “It’s Travis.” Swiping his finger across the screen, he viewed the text, then reported to Wendy. “He’s dropping off the food to Jason and Krissy, then he’s on his way.”

  “Good. I’m starving.” She patted her stomach.

  “Seriously?” Wesley looked over at her. “I don’t think I’ll ever be hungry again!”

  “True, but I must say I’m getting sick of casseroles. Not to be unappreciative or anything, but Simone’s sounds so good right now.”

  He couldn’t disagree with her there. Both the freezer at his house and at Travis and Wendy’s were overflowing with pan after pan of casseroles. They had so much, they’d started sending them home with Jason and Krissy. With all the mouths to feed in Krissy’s house, the girl had been nearly ecstatic. It made Wesley feel even more ungrateful, but there were only so many meals with a chicken soup and mayonnaise base a guy could eat. “I still can’t get over Iris being the ringleader of that whole thing.”

  Wendy nodded, not opening her eyes. “You really should come to church. I’m telling you, at this point, you’re a minicelebrity.”

  He shuddered. “As if you could make me want to go any less after last time.”

  Wendy kept going. “Between Iris making certain everyone in the church got signed up for meal-delivery duty and Carrie Michaels’ little speech about acceptance and showing God’s love to everyone during last week’s prayer meeting, there’s not gonna be one person in town who will risk saying a bad word about you and Travis.”

  Wesley snorted. “Not to mention that you’re liable to shove a rifle in their face if they say anything negative.”

  “I’m going to ignore that unladylike depiction of me.” Deigning to open her eyes, Wendy turned toward him, strands of her hair getting stuck on the bark of the tree. “I’m serious, though. Even Pastor Carver requested prayer for you and Travis, well, and me, last Sunday.”

  Another snort. “Probably to get us saved or to repent from our evil ways.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Well, I’m sure Pastor Hellfire and Brimstone loved that.”

  It was Wendy’s turn to snort. “Who cares what Pastor Thomas and Twyla think!”

  Wesley didn’t speak for a while, getting lost in the madness of the past two weeks. At last he spoke. “Have you spoken to Iris? Is she okay?”

  “Oh, Wesley. You need to quit feeling bad. She’ll be okay. If you’re worried about her, pop into Rose Petal’s Place.” She chuckled softly, but not disrespectfully. “Maybe take her a casserole.”

  “That’s not a bad idea, actually. Makes more sense than people bringing us food. It’s not like we had a death or anything.”

  He could still picture Iris tearing through the crowd in front of Cheryl’s that night. For some reason, he saw that more clearly than anything else—the sight of her nearly flying into the fire, the sound of her screaming, the struggle of the firemen trying to hold her back. He and Travis had gone to her and helped bring her back toward the crowd. Wesley could still feel her tremble in his arms as he’d held her. She’d been nearly inconsolable.

  She’d never blamed him, though he’d expected her to.

  The morning of the Fourth, Iris had called him in a panic. Wesley had left the Bennetts, who were preparing for the Fourth of July celebration, and met her at Cheryl’s.

  Horace had killed a bird and had gotten one of its bones stuck in his throat. Wesley had been able to remove it, but the cat kept wheezing. Upon further inspection, once Horace had quit trying to scratch Wesley’s eyes out, he discovered that the cat’s throat was inflamed from some previous injury.

  Wesley had convinced Iris to leave Horace there overnight. He’d planned to go back in after the kids were asleep and check up on the cat.

  Though he certainly understood loving your pet, and he’d seen many people lose their shit over the death of their dog or cat, none had ever had quite as intense a reaction as Iris.

  He hadn’t expected it from her.

  “Do you think it’s too soon to get her a kitten or something?”

  Wendy smiled gently at him. “I don’t know, sweetie. I really think you should just go talk to her.”

  He wasn’t sure why, but he wasn’t able to face her yet, especially knowing she was championing them getting at least one home-cooked meal a day.

  She was a strange woman, that Iris Linley.

  “Daddy!”

  At Avery’s squeal, Wesley looked over. Travis and Dunkyn were trudging up the sidewalk from the lower park. Travis’s arms were loaded with two large white paper bags and a tray of drinks.

  Travis nearly dropped it all as Avery crashed against his legs in a bear hug.

  Wesley and Wendy walked over to him, each retrieving a bag.

  Travis glared playfully at them. “You could have at least met me down by the bandstand so I wouldn’t have had to schlep it all the way up here myself.”

  Wendy gave her best British accent impression. “Darling, in case you weren’t aware, Wesley and I are now ladies of leisure. We don’t schlep anywhere.” She switched back to her normal alto. “Since when do you say schlep, anyway?”

  Travis ignored her and gave Wesley a quick kiss. “Sorry, I’m so sweaty.”

  With a laugh, Wesley wiped his forearm over his lips. “Wow, you really are.”

  “Well, it’s hot out here, and I just had to climb up a Missouri mountain.”

  Mason walked over to them and waved up at Travis. “Hey, Dad.”

  “Hey, partner.” Travis bent down and scooped the boy up in his arm. “Who’s your sister making you be today?”

  The boy looked
sheepish. “The evil queen.”

  Travis burst out laughing, then shot a withering look at Avery. “Really?”

  She shrugged, unconcerned. “Well, someone needed to make the poisoned apple.”

  Wendy called over from where she was unpacking the burgers and fries and spreading them out over the table. “Mason, don’t let your daddy give you a hard time. If he’s going to be a queen, you can too!” She paused to pop a wavy fry into her mouth. “Just try not to be evil.”

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  REFLECTIVE CAUTION tape gleamed in the cacophony of colored light from the spinning carnival rides. From where they were perched on top of the Ferris wheel, the burnt-out husk of The Crocheted Bunny looked skeletal and menacing. The rest of Main Street radiated with life. Hundreds of people flooded the streets, and the twang of country music blared from the bandstand.

  Travis breathed in deep, loving the smell of the mixture of the summer air and fried carnival food. The Ferris wheel moved forward and jerked to a halt once more as another cart unloaded and filled with more people. With Wesley’s fingers warmly intertwined with his, Travis searched the crowd. After a few moments, he found Wendy and Jason in line for the carousel, the twins hopping about excitedly between them. Following his line of sight, Wesley spoke up, breaking the comfortable silence between them. “I promised Mason that we’d do the Tilt-A-Whirl after this ride.”

  Travis looked over at him. “Are you serious?”

  Wesley’s brows knitted. “Yeah. Why?”

  He shook his head. “I keep forgetting we weren’t together last year. The last time we rode that, he threw up all over us.”

  “Oh. I guess that explains why Avery said she’d never ride that again.”

  Travis laughed. “Yeah, I can’t say I blame her.”

  “Well, maybe now that he’s older it won’t affect him the same way.” The ride slid forward once more, then halted again. “It feels like we’ve been loading forever.”

  “That’s okay. I like it up here. Just sitting.” Travis let his gaze wander over the town. “El Do looks so small from up here.”

  “That’s because it is.”

  “I keep trying to spot Caleb, but I don’t see him anywhere.”

  Wesley gave him a skeptical look.

  “What?”

  “The boy’s got a girlfriend. I doubt he’s worried about carnival rides. He and Ashley are probably making out in some dark corner of the youth group building.”

  “Thank you so much for that visual.” He grimaced.

  Wesley just grinned. “You’re welcome.”

  Though he didn’t relish the thought of Caleb making out with anybody, Travis had been relieved at the change he’d seen in his son. Though still quiet and overly protective of the twins, Caleb had actually started to seem like a real teenager and not a forty-year-old soccer mom.

  With a final lurch the Ferris wheel began to move, gradually picking up speed. The warm current of air was soothing in the too-hot, end-of-July heat. “You know, Caleb told me last week that he’s decided he wants to be a veterinarian.”

  Wesley shifted to look at him easier. “You okay with that?”

  “Oh, yeah.” Travis was so much more than okay with that. “I’m glad he’s going to go for it. I was worried he would feel like he couldn’t get out of this town if he wanted to.”

  “Are you wanting to get out of this town?”

  Travis looked over at Wesley, a shot of panic slicing through him. “Why? Are you?”

  “No, I was just curious. We haven’t ever really talked about it.”

  “Oh.” Though he was relieved, his heart was still pounding against his ribs. “I don’t know. I haven’t considered it for a long time. Shannon and I talked about moving for a bit at one point.” He shrugged. “I guess I’d like the twins to finish growing up here. Their grandparents are here, their home, everything.” He looked away from Wesley, afraid of what he might see in his eyes. “Are you okay with that?”

  Wesley squeezed his hand. “Yeah. Surprisingly. I’m gonna need frequent trips to the city, but I like it here. Some parts, I love.”

  “Like the buffalo?”

  Wesley laughed.

  Travis loved that sound.

  “Yeah, the buffalo are pretty great. I was kinda referring to the man who takes care of them.”

  Travis forced a shocked expression over his face. “You’re fucking Emmitt Walker?”

  Wesley shuddered, a true and involuntary reaction. “You’re disgusting.”

  This time, it was Travis who laughed. After a moment, he grew serious again. “So, Jason and I were talking the other day….” Suddenly he was nervous again. That was stupid. There was no reason to be nervous.

  “Yeah?”

  Travis cleared his throat. “Well, we were talking, and thought it might be time to expand Cedar County Feed again. We thought it would make sense to have a veterinary clinic attached. You know, a one-stop shop kinda deal.” He rushed ahead, his nerves getting the better of him. “You know, if you decide you don’t wanna use the insurance money to rebuild where you were….”

  Wesley’s brown eyes searched his face, the lights of the carnival reflected in them. “Are you sure you’d be okay with that?”

  So much more than okay. “Yeah, if it sounds good to you.”

  “I think that sounds”—the smile that broke over Wesley’s face said more than any words—“perfect.”

  Travis never looked away as the Ferris wheel began to slow. “There’s one catch, though.”

  “Yeah, what’s that?”

  “You’ve got to change the name to something besides Cheryl’s.”

  Their cart came to a stop at the pinnacle of the ride once more as lower passengers began to unload. Wesley pretended to consider. “What did you have in mind? Something like the Cedar County Feed & Clinic? We could call it CCFC. I bet Jason would like that.”

  “Shut up.” Travis gripped Wesley’s chin, holding his face still before he kissed him. “I love you.”

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  “I CAN’T believe you and Jason actually talked me into this.”

  Wesley grinned over at Travis before pulling his scarf tighter against the unusual mid-September chill. “I think you secretly like it.”

  “No.” Travis shook his head. “Nope. Nope. Nope. And nope.”

  “Come on, you’ve got to admit you like it just a little bit. It’s got a good ring to it.”

  Travis looked at him and rolled his eyes. “No. I like you. Love you. But I hate the name. Actually, now that I think about it, there’s no way you could ever doubt my love again, after this. You or Jason.”

  Wesley motioned up at the gigantic metal sign on top of the feedstore. The red chrome capital letters, CCFC, sparkled in the light of the sunset. “I think it’s got personality.”

  “Yeah, that it has. Just definitely not a good one.”

  Wesley reached out and intertwined his fingers with Travis’s. “You could have vetoed it.”

  Travis forced out a guffaw. “Right. The two of you would never let me hear the end of it.”

  Wesley just smiled. As nervous as he was about joining the clinic with the feedstore, having so much of his and Travis’s lives intertwine, there was an underlying sense of peace about the whole thing. It just felt right. “Come on. Let’s go home. I’m sure the others are starving.”

  “Actually, they’re eating on their own tonight.” Travis suddenly looked nervous.

  “Oh? Impromptu date night?”

  He shrugged. “Kinda.”

  “Awesome. However, if we are going to Gringos, I’m not getting that blue cheese crap. No sense in trying again.” Wesley let go of Travis’s hand and started to walk toward the truck. He glanced back when Travis didn’t follow. “Everything okay?”

  Travis hesitated, peering over at the feedstore. “Don’t you wanna see what they did in the addition today?”

  Wesley inspected the new structure on the side of CCFC. “The
y just put up drywall yesterday. The most they could have done was some trim and stuff. I’m just excited that we can start installing all the equipment next week. I’m sick of doing house calls all day long. Let’s go eat. I’m starving.”

  Again, nervousness crossed over Travis’s expression. “They might have done more than that. Let’s go see.”

  Suddenly Wesley felt as nervous as Travis looked.

  Surely not.

  He forced out a breath and stepped back toward Travis. “Okay. Let’s see.”

  Travis didn’t say anything else as they walked up the steps and entered the original section of the feedstore. However, the sweat beading over Travis’s forehead did nothing to calm Wesley’s nerves.

  After walking through the feedstore, Travis paused outside the newly framed doorway that led into the clinic. He started to say something, then simply stuck out his hand.

  Wordlessly, Wesley took it, and they walked through the door.

  In the middle of the main room, where the front desk would soon be built, surrounded by walls of drywall and plastic sheeting, sat a square folding table and two chairs. A solitary candle flickered in the center of the table, next to a large white paper bag and two lidded Styrofoam cups.

  Wesley’s heart rate increased with anticipation and he looked over at Travis, who refused to meet his eyes. “Wendy?”

  “No.” Travis chuckled nervously. “Jason. If Wendy would have done it, there would have been a tablecloth and the burgers would have been on plates, not left in the fucking Simone’s bag.”

  They stood there, unmoving. Even though Wesley knew what was going to happen, he couldn’t quite believe it. He was so terrified he almost hoped he was wrong, that Travis wasn’t about to do what he assumed. His heart sank at that thought, betraying him.