Incidental Contact (Those Devilish De Marco Men)

by Connor, Eden

  “Oh, so sorry,” a uniformed woman purred. “Show me where you’re gonna sit and I’ll bring you a complimentary coffee.” The slender blonde’s eyelashes fluttered. She brushed a stray lock of hair from her eyes and lowered her hand, grazing the front of her uniform. Her fingers lingered over her breast.

  Barely resisting the urge to roll his eyes, Eric looked over her head for Amy. The striped shirt made her easy to spot, pulling two chairs across the aisle to a large table in the back.

  Ordering a dozen glazed doughnuts, one coffee, and one tea, he paid, and was soon handed a tray. Turning, he found the same waitress standing in his way. He took a step to the left. The waitress moved to her right. He moved to his right. She scurried to her left. Amy looked up. Her eyes narrowed on his awkward dance.

  “Pick a direction.” Eric sighed. “I’ll stand still.”

  “Do you need some creamer?”

  He needed metal bumpers like the wheelchair players had. Turning on his heel, Eric strode down a parallel aisle to reach the table where Amy was seated.

  He recognized her father. “Hello, again. Sorry, I cannot remember your name, sir.”

  Chortling, the man extended his hand. “Hi, Eric. Tucker Sizemore.”

  He realized, looking around the table, he recognized every face. “You sold me my ticket last night.” He smiled at the woman seated beside Tucker.

  “I’m Amy’s mother, Alice. Nice to see you again, Eric.”

  “I, uh, still have that twenty.” The others at the table looked mystified, but Mrs. Sizemore laughed. Eric did not want to hear whatever his grandmother could’ve told this woman.

  The team manager was seated across from him. Eric nodded. “Mister Rolley.”

  “Can’t get over what you did last night, Eric.” The black man smiled. “We were just talking about that.”

  “You mean, how bad I messed up?”

  Gene Rolley leaned forward in his seat. His eyes were intent on Eric’s face. “You’ll never make that mistake again. That’s what life is, son, it’s learning what not to do. Any time you want to be the pit crew for my team, you just say the word and we’ll scrape up the money. Those wheelchair techs charge a fortune. Some of my boys have waited weeks to get their repairs done. And I surely appreciate you hookin’ me up with Maze Mason. He’s gonna be a real good addition for us.”

  “Maze is good people.” Eric nodded. Weeks? Nothing that can go wrong with those chairs would take more than an hour to fix.

  “He was gonna join us this mornin’, but he got a call about a job, so he went to see about that.” Gene looked around the table, smiling widely. “But man, this guy took a team all the way to the national championships a couple years back. Next year, we’re gonna kick some butt. Just gotta find a place to train.” He shook his head and the smile faded. “Now that my number one choice is off the table, dunno where to look next, but I’ll find us a place.”

  Sounded like Dan hadn’t wasted any time.

  “I can’t believe the old high school is burning. I had my first kiss in the halls there.” Alice sighed. “That reminds me, Amy. I forgot to ask about your project last night. How’s that going?”

  Amy grabbed a doughnut. “The mall shot me down, kinda. They’d let us do it, but only if we can find a way to screen the court from people walking by. On all four sides. Any ideas?”

  Tucker let out a low whistle. “Damn, that would take a lot of net. The portable floor’s regulation size. That’s eighty-four feet by fifty. Parks and Rec might have some net, but every inch is earmarked for a baseball field. We’re getting those fields ready for spring right now. Maybe I can check on the old nets they’re taking down.” Tucker shook his head. “The ones we’re replacing are riddled with holes, but they might stop a basketball. How the heck would we hang ‘em?”

  “He said we could do the exhibition in the parking lot.” Amy licked icing from her fingers. “I didn’t know if that was okay with you, Gene. Fewer people would see the teams play. People don’t go to the mall to stand around outside.” She leaned back in her seat and frowned. “No easy restroom access, no place to change clothes. And, we’d have to wait till the weather warms up.”

  “We’ll sure ‘nuff take it.” Gene reached to pat her arm. “Every little bit helps. People need to see my boys play and I know what this project means to you.”

  Eric ate three doughnuts, sipped his coffee, and kept quiet while he listened to the conversation. Gene wanted to build a state-of-the-art training facility for wheelchair basketball. Tucker was trying to get county council to earmark money in the county’s budget to build a park with a special playing surface for wheelchair baseball.

  As far as he could tell, these people had big plans on behalf of a group none of them belonged to. This wasn’t special interest. This was community leadership.

  He’d never felt more like a small town mechanic, or more out of place.

  Maybe his dick was doing him a favor.

  He felt a hand on his shoulder. “Need that coffee heated?”

  Eric let out a long breath.

  He felt Amy’s stare.

  Alice extended her cup. “Please. We’ve been trying to get your attention for ten minutes.” Tucker and Gene nodded, pushing their cups forward.

  He darted a glance at Amy in time to see her lower her gaze from the waitress to him. Watching her eyes was like watching Dan roll down the garage doors at the end of the day. All the natural light was shut out, leaving cool fluorescent in its place.

  Draining his cup, he got to his feet. “I’ll be by the tournament after I pick Kevin up.” He gave her shoulder a squeeze. “If you need me sooner, Lila will know where I am. If I don’t hear my phone ring, call her.”

  “I won’t,” she muttered. “You should probably brush your teeth, so Lila doesn’t smell doughnuts on your breath.”

  Eric ruffled her hair, wishing he could kiss her, but she had that rabid porcupine look about her, and dude, parents. “You’re so smart. I’ll grab a box for her.”

  Smoke still hung in a heavy pall over the school grounds when he passed, but had dissipated enough for him to see the blackened bricks on the old high school gym. The rest of the school looked okay, since the gymnasium was a separate building, but the gym looked like a total loss. Firemen still milled about, but they weren’t wielding hoses anymore.

  Ten minutes later, slowing beside John’s field, Eric stared at the house and barn, clenching the steering wheel. For the first time in his life, he wondered what his mother would say about a woman. His heart raged because he couldn’t ask.

  He had no idea what Cammie might think of Cynda, or Lila, much less Amy. He couldn’t remember his mother well enough to even make a guess. Instead, he thought about his grandmother. Livia Chapman had been a teacher. She’d attended Converse College, and had started her career teaching fifth grade at the same elementary school where the wheelchair tournament was being held.

  She’d kept the farm going while Nance did his hitch in World War Two. At the time, she’d taken to wearing pants, in an age when women were expected to wear dresses, because she swore she never knew whether she’d have to climb a tree, or fix a well pump, or welcome the minister for coffee. He smiled, remembering Livia saying if the preacher didn’t like her pants, he could go mooch someone else’s lemon pound cake.

  She’d have liked Amy.

  He didn’t bother slowing at the stop sign before he crossed De Marco Farms Road. Despite the heavy layer of snow, he navigated the trail easily, since the big tires on the Dodge had knocked down the brush the night before. Parking beside the packing shed, he pulled on the work gloves, calculating how many lengths of pipe he’d need.

  If Amy wanted to hold her exhibition indoors, and Phil wanted to protect shoppers from being hit by a loose ball, maybe he could make both happy. Not that he gave a damn whether Phillip Chapman was happy, but outsmarting the arrogant prick sounded like a good way to spend a snowy Saturday.

  Eric chucked thirty ten-foot len
gths of pipe into the truck bed. After thinking for a moment, he added twenty more.

  Retracing the path to the private lane, he turned in at Colton’s and grabbed the extra dozen doughnuts off the passenger seat. Testing the knob, he was relieved to find the door locked.

  Lila threw the door open. He blinked. He wasn’t used to seeing her hair down. Light waves flowed over her shoulders and the ends curled nearly to her waist. She barely glanced at him, her attention riveted on the polka-dotted box.

  “Oh, my!” The way she grabbed the pastries out of his hand made him chuckle. “Thank you! These are still warm. What possessed you to make a doughnut run?”

  He shrugged, shifting from foot to foot. Why did he feel like a twelve-year-old? “Took Amy there to meet up with her parents. Her dad didn’t cancel the tournament. Came by to see if you need anything before I get busy. Everything all right? You need me to tend the fire? Anything?”

  “Just one thing. Come on in.” She stepped aside. He stamped the snow off his boots and stepped through the door. Grams sat near the fire, poking at a square of fabric with a needle. To his shock, Lila tossed the doughnut box on the closest table and turned, throwing her arms around his neck. “Thank you so much,” she whispered in his ear.

  “Gotta keep the baby mama happy,” he retorted. “Amy said you’d cut my throat in my sleep if you found out I went to Krispy Kreme and didn’t bring some back.”

  She pulled back to look into his eyes. “Well, yeah. I’m tickled pink to have those, but I meant, thank you for giving Amy a place to stay.”

  He’d expected a far different reaction from Lila, but he didn’t see a sign of the suspicion that’d shadowed Dan’s eyes this morning. He gave her a gentle squeeze, unsure what to say. “No problem. I guess Jonah’s still asleep?”

  “Dead to the world.” Lila stepped back and nodded. She gave him a twisted smile. “I’m so jealous, I was thinking I might grab a pot and a spoon and go bang ‘em together, right over his head. Coralinne won’t let me.” She huffed, but he saw the smile playing on her lips.

  Eric dared to rub her tummy. He couldn’t wait to hold his new niece or nephew. “Won’t be much longer and you... still won’t be getting any sleep.” He grinned.

  She arched her brows and made her eyes round. “Yeah, but at least then, the baby will wake Colton and Jonah, too.”

  Eric spluttered. “You’re evil, Lila.”

  “Pfft. Another week without sleep and I’ll show you some real evil.”

  Some pregnant women glowed. Lila, not so much. Her face was puffy. Dark half moons marred the fair skin under her eyes. “You okay?”

  “Fine. Fine.” She dragged her fingers through her hair. “Just need a decent month’s sleep, is all.” She rolled her eyes. “Damn doctor won’t even let me have coffee. I feel like a zombie, staggering around in eternal twilight.”

  He turned toward Grams and held his hands out. “Dramatic, isn’t she?”

  “Missed her callin’, I’d say.” Coralinne cackled. “She’d do good on one of them daytime shows. Got drama bigger’n that belly.”

  “Don’t make me take your coffee.” Lila glared and pointed at the old woman, but she was laughing.

  “Make her share,” he ordered Grams, tipping his head toward the box on the table. “She shouldn’t eat a whole dozen doughnuts by herself.”

  “Oh, the other joy of being pregnant. Not only do total strangers think they can just reach out and molest my tummy, but every damn body turns into a doctor.” She crossed her eyes and jabbed a finger into Eric’s abdomen. “Although, you’ve probably seen more hoo-hahs than my obstetrician. I swear to God, I’ve got shoes older than that man.”

  He blinked. Blinked again. Eric spun and grabbed the doorknob. “Call me when Jonah wakes. I’m doing something today he can help with.” He needed to give his baby brother a hug, a suit of armor, a steel codpiece... something. Poor guy.

  Just past Dan’s driveway, the road began to climb. Evergreens lined the road on both sides, planted as windbreaks to protect the orchards. Their boughs were heavy with snow. His destination was near the top of the winding road, but to his relief, no trees had fallen across the rutted lane.

  The machine shop had once been a busy spot, since something on a farm was always needing repaired, or some part had to be fabricated. He’d spent a million hours in this place, with his grandfathers and his father. He’d learned to use every tool before he turned eleven.

  The pipe threader was mounted beneath a window overlooking an orchard. He’d just about finished adding threads to each end of the pipes when he realized something was different about the view. Yanking off his safety goggles, Eric tossed them onto the work bench and stepped outside.

  An uninterrupted ribbon of white ran between the long rows of trees. The grass had been mowed, sometime back in the fall, he judged from the clipped height.

  He walked the long shed from corner to corner, stepping over old tractor axles and staring at the scene below. Long-ignored, the De Marco orchards were filled with volunteer trees, springing from seeds in the unpicked peaches after they fell to the ground and rotted.

  Their charcoal-colored bark contrasted vividly with the pristine blanket of white. Snow rested in the fork of each tree and laid on the thickest limbs. Not a single sapling marred the linear perfection of this row. Or the next. Or the next. Not one scraggly limb dragged the ground. Eric shoved his hands into the front pocket of his jeans and squinted against the glare.

  He returned to the shed. Gathering the pipe, he threw it into the back of his truck, along with a couple of the huge kerosene blowers. On a hunch, he continued up the mountain. Turning left before he reached the old migrant camp at the top, he bumped along the access road that led to the derelict greenhouse and one of the irrigation pumping stations, gaping at row after row of neatly-pruned trees, all the way to the old quarry. Through the arching branches, the first glimpse of his destination was a sparkle of light. The cold sun struck a sheet of glass that hadn’t been there the last time he’d come here.

  The greenhouse windows were fogged over, but with condensation, not a decade of grime. Broken panes had been replaced. The fan in the eave had been repaired. The large metal blades revolved at a sedate pace. The door had no lock. Eric stepped inside. The rush of heat made him shiver.

  Hundreds of slender trees stood straight in one-gallon buckets, their trunks tied to stakes. White markers jutted from the dirt in the black plastic containers. The names on them tickled long-forgotten memories. Dark Beauty. Stony Heart. He strode down the aisles, his boots crunching on fresh pea gravel and his jaw hanging slack.

  Someone was putting the orchard back in operation. But who? Had Dan rented out some of the farm? Granted a license to grow these trademarked varieties? He might do that, in order to generate some money to help Colton with Lila’s medical bills, or start a college fund for the new baby. That was how Dan thought. But that didn’t explain why his brother hadn’t mentioned it, or why Eric hadn’t noticed a strange truck driving past. This restoration had taken some major work.

  Striding to his truck, he leaned against the grille and propped his elbows on the hood, staring down the mountainside. Thousands of trees huddled under the snow. The farmhouse was a spot of gold and silver at the foot of the mountain. He could see two deer in the front yard of the cabin, and smoke drifting over the trees marked Colton’s house. A flock of cardinals made vivid slashes against the blanket of white.

  Unimpressed by the familiar scene, Eric fought to breathe. A tight knot formed under his ribs. It didn’t matter to him if Dan rented out part of the farm. He’d go along, if that was the plan. What mattered was that his brother was keeping secrets.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “Did you play that recording for Eric?”

  Amy shifted behind the wheel of her father’s car, squinting at the road. “No, but he did tell me something you might find interesting.” She repeated the tale about John Carpenter trying to lure Sarah closer while cov
ered with bees.

  Alice was quiet for a long time. “What I’m thinking makes my skin crawl. I know for a fact, women came here with the men working those orchards. Livia was concerned about the younger ones, living in a camp filled with men for months on end. She wanted her husband to stop letting their workers bring women, for their safety. We need to find that girl, Amy. Can you describe her? One of my students might know who she is.”

  The recording had been on Amy’s mind, too. “Let’s say we find her. Then what? She might know about a rape that happened years ago. Isn’t there some statute of limitations? How does finding her help anyone?”

  Alice sighed loudly. “Don’t they teach anything useful in Social Studies anymore? South Carolina law doesn’t have statutory limits on prosecuting major crimes. You need to watch less television and read more.”

  If she had to read much more, Amy thought her eyeballs might explode. “Name me one book I could read that would tell me that.” She huffed when Alice remained silent. “Only a criminal would know that kind of thing. Or a lawyer. Or a librarian.”

  Only a criminal would know. But, if John Carpenter knew he wasn’t looking at much time for killing Cammie De Marco, then why hide her body? “Did her husband agree? To stop allowing women in the camp?” She felt weird asking such a question about Eric’s grandfather.

  “No. He said it wasn’t any of his business if the migrants brought a few whores along. Made for happier workers. Livia almost divorced him over that. She moved out of their bedroom, she was so upset.”

  Amy hit the turn signal and slowed to turn into the elementary school. “Wow, y’all must’ve been close friends.”

  Alice shook her head. “Not really. Sometimes, it’s easier to be honest with someone you barely know. She came by the library twice a week for years and years. People didn’t just run to divorce court back then. They worked things out.”

  Sleeping in separate bedrooms didn’t sound like working things out. Amy made a slow left turn into the elementary school and steered her father’s car into a parking space. Tucker had elected to ride with Gene, handing Amy his keys. “Did her husband change his mind?”