Indivisible

by Kristen Heitzmann

  God had loved and forgiven her. He had given her hope and wisdom and purpose. With Jonah, she’d already found joy. How could she possibly care who had impregnated her mother? And yet …

  She went inside and, gripping her mug, sat across from Sarge, who looked as if he wished he’d beaten a quick retreat. She appreciated that he hadn’t. After releasing her top lip from her teeth, she asked, “Who was it?”

  At the bakery counter, Piper placed the last selection into the box, drew a deep breath, and looked up at Miles, the only person there after closing time. “Tell me if I’ve completely lost my mind.”

  “Not completely. I could make a logarithm to determine the percentage of mind loss at any given time, but it’s a constantly shifting, dynamic variable.”

  “What percentage of crazy am I now?”

  “Just enough.”

  “I want Sarge to still feel a part of this. It’s his business.”

  “He put you in charge.”

  She slid the box lid on. “Yep. And raised me one whole dollar every hour.”

  “That makes you the manager.”

  She beamed at him for not belittling her wage. It was ridiculous, she knew. But she was proud of that dollar.

  “When he came in that one time, it seemed like he was telling the bakery good-bye. I hate that. It’s hard enough knowing Tia won’t be working next door.”

  “You should expand.”

  “What?”

  “You could open the wall and triple your seating and add more menu options.”

  She looked at the brick wall between the businesses. “Make it a bakery bistro?”

  “Soup and salads.”

  “And quiche.”

  “And desserts.”

  She bit her lower lip. “And hire someone to work the counter and wait tables. Want a job?”

  He looked aghast.

  “Kidding.”

  “I know. But it’s no less horrifying.”

  She took the money pouch out of the safe. She’d make the deposit on the way to Jonah’s—Tia’s—the Westfall’s house. “With that kind of business, I might make tips or have a real salary. I could afford to stay.”

  “You shouldn’t delay. Once something else goes in, the chance is gone.” Miles looked ready to take the wall down the minute she said the word.

  “Sarge will have to love the idea—and he’ll need money to expand.”

  “Or have a partner.”

  “My three cents won’t go very far.”

  “What about your family?”

  She shook her head. “They offer all the time, but I can’t take it. You know why.” Since he’d been so open with her, she’d given him the same.

  “A silent partner then. Someone who finances but isn’t involved in the business—unless you wanted him to design the expansion and give an opinion on menu items.”

  Her mouth dropped open. “You?”

  “Is that going too far? Did I overstep?”

  “No, it’s it’s I don’t know what it is.”

  “I make investments.”

  “I appreciate the offer, Miles, but …”

  “I want you to stay.”

  She released a slow breath. “It’s a long shot that Sarge will even consider it. Change is hard for him.”

  “Change is hard.”

  They went out, and she locked the bakery, then took the box from him.

  He said, “Can I see you tonight?”

  She smiled. “Okay. We could try out some soup recipes in your big sterile stainless steel kitchen.”

  “Okay.”

  She drew a deep breath. “Well, wish me luck.”

  “You don’t need luck. Everything you need is right inside you.”

  “What a nice thing to say.”

  “I don’t lie.”

  Tears rose. “I know.” She held his gaze like an eye hug, then jumped when a car skidded in the street.

  “What the—”

  Bob Betters hung an arm out the Camaro window, glaring. “You really do prefer that freak-tard.”

  She turned stiffly. “He’s smarter than you with his brain on hibernate.”

  He pointed his thick ringed finger. “You caused me a lot of trouble. I haven’t forgotten.” His tires squealed as the smell of burnt rubber engulfed them.

  Coughing, she noticed Miles’s bone-white knuckles. “Don’t bother. He’s just a bully.”

  Leaning forward in the bed, Jonah stared. “Buckley?”

  Tia nodded. “She confided in her good friend Sarge.” He was almost crushing her hand, and she wiggled it looser. “What does it change? Neither one of them cared two fish for me.”

  “Does he know?”

  That gave her pause. Maybe he didn’t. She looked so much like her mother; neither the mayor nor her erstwhile dad would know by recognizing himself. Would Stella tell Sarge and not Owen Buckley? “Maybe that’s why he cut it off—if he was the one who did. The point is, I don’t care. I only told you because you’re … the one I’ve never kept things from.”

  “Except for two college degrees. A prayer line. EMT certification …”

  “That’s just stuff I’ve done. The EMT isn’t even valid still. That was way back when Reba first left, and you were hunting every female that walked.”

  “I was out of my head, Ti. Self-destructive.”

  She stared at their joined hands. “I’ve never had anyone but you.”

  “Once I got sober, there’s been no one but you.”

  She met his eyes.

  “That’s the truth. Jay will tell you. I hung on to what I couldn’t have rather than settle for someone I didn’t want. Even for a night.”

  “And Reba?”

  He shook his head. “No. I wanted her for all the wrong reasons and … truthfully? We weren’t even compatible.”

  “And you know this because …”

  “I went looking for you. If you hadn’t pushed me away—”

  “What was I supposed to do? Start dating you? They hated me. You talk about shunned? They did everything but wear garlic. I slept on the mountain instead of my bed because the freezing night was warmer than my home.”

  Tears filled his eyes. “I didn’t know.”

  “I didn’t want you to.”

  “I should have seen. But I was too messed up, thinking I’d killed the bastard I’d dreamed of killing for so long.”

  Through her own tears, she whispered, “How did you make it?”

  “God. And Jay.” He rolled her fingers one by one. “And the hope of you.”

  She wiped a tear. “I thought you hated religion.”

  “I hated the sham.”

  “But you go to church. The same one even.”

  He leaned back, nodding. “God … found me there. In my confusion, my disgust, my hatred—God said it doesn’t matter what anyone in these pews says or does. I am.”

  Tia blinked. “That’s profound.”

  “Jay pulled me through a bender that should have killed me. I was … so empty. I had nothing left. So I offered that. And in return? Unconditional love.” He huffed a breath. “I had no concept.”

  “Oh, Jonah.”

  “That’s how I held on. It’s how I’ll make this marriage work.”

  “How we’ll make it work.” She kissed his mouth, salted with their tears. “I won’t doubt you again.”

  “I won’t give you reason to.”

  She pressed her hand to his heart. “This is better than how we would have spent this time.”

  “No.”

  Laughing, she kissed him again. “Well …”

  He stroked her cheek. “You’re the love of my life.”

  Thirty-One

  Nothing is more noble, nothing more venerable than fidelity. Faithfulness and truth are the most sacred excellences and endowments of the human mind.

  —MARCUS TULLIUS CICERO

  Following Tia’s directions to Jonah’s cabin, Piper could not stop thinking about an expanded bakery bistro. There wer
en’t that many restaurants in Redford. The hotel, and the diner, and the Summit Saloon. Hers—Sarge’s—would be completely different. She chewed her cuticle. If he’d even consider it.

  For the first time she had the urge to pray for something she wanted. Was that okay too? Tia had said she couldn’t mess it up. So, God? I’d really like to stay. Could you give Sarge just a wee little nudge?

  She bit down on the nail and remembered Jonah. Show the confidence to do the job. She pulled the fingernail out from her teeth and knocked on the door.

  Jonah’s cabin was nothing like Miles’s home, but no less appealing. She could smell the lumber of the new part built onto the back. She smelled the wood smoke from the chimney. Gripping the box, she knocked again.

  She heard the scrape and bump of the walker long before he opened the door. “Hi, Sarge.”

  “Where’s the fire?”

  “Sorry. I wasn’t sure you could hear the knocking in the back.”

  “What’s that?” He zeroed in on the box.

  “This is a sampling of specials I’ve made since you said I could. I want you to decide which ones should be keepers.”

  “Why should I decide?”

  “Well, I thought I’d know by which ones sold and which ones didn’t. But they all sell out, so I thought you could judge.”

  “Oh, you did, did you?” But he moved aside to let her in.

  She opened the box on the table, and the fresh, mingled aromas rose like ambrosia. “Willing to try?”

  He sat down, growling. “You won’t go away unless I do.”

  She beamed. “Start with the wild huckleberry maple sugar coffeecake.” She cut a corner and handed it to him. “I might not be able to get huckleberries all the time, but I bet good old blueberries would work too.”

  He ate the piece with a shifting emotion that was the polar opposite of Miles’s poker face. Brow buckled, he closed his eyes, chewing and swallowing, then groaned.

  “Sarge?”

  He put his palms flat on the table and opened his eyes. “What tomfoolery did you pull to make something so …”

  “Yummy?”

  He glowered. “What’s next?”

  She had started him on her very favorite—Miles’s too—so he’d be likely to continue. “Why don’t you choose?”

  “What is this, a game?”

  “This is serious business, Sarge.” And she hadn’t even broached the most serious part. “Try the sage and lemon salmon puff.”

  “Fish pastry?” He scrunched his face. “No, thanks.”

  “Then the apple smoked-turkey arugula croissant.”

  “Croissants are too time consuming.” But he accepted the part she cut for him and popped it in his mouth with another attempt at disinterest. Humoring her.

  “They are complicated, but I’ve got the process down so it’s not unreasonable. I think the results are worth it. But you’re the judge.”

  “Sure I’m the judge,” he grumbled. “Don’t think I can’t see mutiny.”

  “No mutiny, I promise. But I want to talk to you about something. You know how Tia’s closing the shop next-door?”

  “Closing her mother’s store.” He shook his head.

  “What would you think about expanding? We could knock down the wall and make it a bakery bistro serving breakfast and lunch, with your old favorites and my new specials.”

  He stared at her as though she’d told him he had three days to live.

  “If the Pine Crest annexation happens and with all the new development, we’d have the population to support another restaurant. We’re already known for the best baked goods—”

  “Were known. Not sure that’s still so.”

  “You bet it is.”

  He scowled. “Even if you’re right, you think I’m made of money? Paying you is all the expanding I can afford.”

  “What if you had a partner?”

  “You?”

  She shook her head. “A silent financial partner investing in both of us.”

  His eyes reddened. “That store has served this community for thirty years. Now you want to change it.”

  “It would be a change.”

  Sarge slumped. “Who’s this silent partner?”

  “Miles Forsythe. He’s an inventor whose first patent at sixteen kind of set him up. And he’s a whiz at architectural design. He could …”

  Sarge looked up, clearly distressed.

  Piper patted his hand. “You just think about it, Sarge. If someone else snaps up the Half Moon, then that’s our answer.” She tried not to show how badly she hoped it wouldn’t be. “But it wouldn’t hurt your retirement to have—”

  “What do I care about retirement?”

  “Well, then a new venture.”

  “I’m too old for that.”

  Piper crossed her arms. “That’s playing both sides.”

  He glowered. “Watch your step, soldier.”

  “Yes sir.”

  “You talked your way into this outfit, but you have a lot to learn.”

  “Yes sir, I do.”

  “Takes more than fancy recipes to keep a business on its feet for the long march.”

  “That’s your job, Sarge.”

  He rubbed his jaw. “You really want this? You want it so much you can taste it?”

  “Tastes as good as that huckleberry maple sugar coffeecake.”

  His mouth spasmed as he fought off the smile and lowered his brow. “Tell your investor to put together an offer for the Half Moon. We’ll see where it goes.”

  Squealing, Piper threw her arms around him, not easy the way he was bent. “Oh, Sarge, you won’t be sorry.”

  To her surprise he didn’t say he already was, but rather, “Make me proud, soldier.”

  Recognizing the distinctive throat clearing, Jonah opened his eyes. Through a new row of “get well” plants on the swing arm table, he saw Moser—and Sue.

  “If you really need to sleep, we can come back.” Moser’s careful elocution assured they would be back, they would deal with it.

  He sighed. “Leave us alone, Moser.”

  Moser looked at Sue. “I’ll be outside.” His shoes squeaked on the mopped linoleum.

  She waited until the door clicked, then dove in. “I’m sorry, Chief.”

  “I’m sure you are.”

  “I couldn’t stop myself. Every time I thought of Sam dead and those scumbags passing more and more drugs, Sean Bolton selling at the school—where Eli will go one day—I just couldn’t let it go.”

  “We had leads. We had an active investigation. We had manpower.”

  “I know.” She paced. “But Caldwell knew Beatty and Newly had tagged him. When I relieved Beatty—”

  “How exactly did you do that?”

  She gulped. “I told him you were mixing things up. He took my patrol.”

  With a slow blink Jonah added that to the cauldron.

  “Caldwell didn’t notice me. He made his move, and I couldn’t miss the chance. We couldn’t miss the chance.”

  “To blow up a meth lab? Incinerate three people? Injure fellow officers? You went in unprepared and forced the action.”

  “I knew once you were there—”

  “You disobeyed direct orders.”

  “I know. I was so mad when you sent me back, but …” Her face contorted. “I could have been killed. And Eli would have had no parents.” She pressed a hand to her belly. “You were right every step of the way.”

  “Law enforcement involves risk. Any traffic stop can prove fatal. It’s my job to minimize the risk to my officers. It’s your job to use proper judgment and trust me.”

  She stood straight. “If this costs me my job, I understand.”

  He scrutinized her, weighing and sifting. “You’re on three weeks’ suspension. Use that time to decide if you want to be a cop, or if you’re just a vigilante.”

  Her breath came in a gasp. “I will. Thank you, Chief. Jonah. Thank you.”

  “Send Moser in.” Then to
Moser, “What’s the word from Hao on Sam?”

  “The meth was laced with PCP. At that dose, a fatal cocktail.”

  “Sam might not have known. Can Hao give us homicide equivocal or accidental?”

  “Already did.”

  Jonah settled back in the bed. “She’ll get the life insurance?”

  “Far as I know.”

  “Is my wife outside?”

  Moser nodded. “And I might say about time, Chief. About time.”

  Propped up in the bed, Lucy’s lips were blue-tinged violets, her forget-me-not eyes overlarge in sunken sockets. In just the last hours, her skin had grown so pale it glowed, thin threads of veins at her temples. She looked up from the puppies in her lap. “They’re so still.”

  Liz felt her chest constrict as though bands were crushing the breath from her. She had thought, really thought … “They love it when you hold them.”

  Lucy smiled. “So soft. So sweet.” She labored over the words, drawing a rasping breath that caused a sympathetic rasp in Liz’s throat.

  “You should rest.” She saw the fatigue in every part of her twin.

  “No use.”

  “Don’t say that.” Liz crouched down beside the bed, taking Lucy’s hand between hers. “You need to fight. You can’t give up.”

  “I’m so tired.”

  Liz searched Lucy’s face, willing her to continue. Fear and fatigue had settled deep inside her as well. But she wouldn’t give up. “I’m going to fix everything.”

  Lucy looked away, fighting for each breath. “Lizzie, you should … let me go.”

  She is part of me, my own self and not me. I feel her dying.

  “Lucy. Do not let go.” She gathered the pups into her arms, crying. For them, for her. No more experiments, no more attempts. It had to be now.

  “Do you remember the park?” Lucy whispered.

  Arm in arm, we prance across the park. We are special, rare, priceless. No one knows what we share so purely, so completely, so without regret. What do we care for the stares on the lonely faces?

  “It had a merry-go-round.” Lucy’s voice had a small child’s singsong tone.

  “I remember.” Liz smiled.

  Swings and slides and seesaws had been unaccommodating, but they’d ridden the merry-go-round endlessly, Lucy’s head against her shoulder, eyes closed. Liz had kept hers wide open and watched everything spin. In a whirl, she’d seen the faces staring, the fingers pointing, the whispers hidden behind hands. They didn’t know. They could not imagine the joy of plurality, of complete unity.