by Jenna Brooks
Amy took a step toward her, pointing too close to her face. “What do you think the chances are that you’re going to work again after quitting like that?”
Jo laughed, batting Amy’s hand to the side. “What’s that? Friendly advice? You can’t wait to get those reference requests, can you? Please, hold your breath. They won’t be coming.”
“Right. You’ll live off your trust fund.”
“Know what? You’re a coward, Amy. The worst kind. You throw other people in front of that pit bull so she won’t attack you. What I did today was probably the biggest shot in the arm the workers here have gotten in a long time, and you can’t stand it.”
“Aren’t you a hero.”
Jo’s face fell. She looked at her hands, silent for a moment.
“No. No, Amy, I’m not. I’m no one’s ‘hero.’” Her voice was almost a whisper as she looked back to Amy. “And neither are you. But the difference is, you could have been.” She was about to say something else, then looked at Max, shaking her head in disgust. “Let’s go, Max.”
As they walked away, Jo turned around abruptly, taking in the entirety of the place.
Amy watched her, her face shriveled in rage. “What?” she snapped.
“Goodbye, Amy.”
“Go to hell.”
“There’s a hundred good comebacks for that one,” Max muttered as they left.
Sam was on her phone when they got to the truck. She looked at them apologetically. “I need to get back to Mom’s. Jack was over there a couple of hours ago.”
“Great,” Jo sighed. “She okay?”
“Yeah, she said he was actually being real nice, but I think he creeps her out.”
“What did he want? To find you?”
“Good question. She said she’ll give me details when I get there. But he knew I was at work all day.”
Jo thought he was likely grooming Sam’s mother to be on his team, but she didn’t comment.
They pulled up at her mother’s house twenty minutes later. Liz Bentley was standing on the front stoop of the large antique colonial, placing a clay pot of blue hydrangeas by the front door. She waved quickly, then reached inside the front door to retrieve another plant.
As the girls got out of the truck, she set it on the top step with a grunt, then wiped her hands on her baggy jeans. “Hi, kids.” She sounded amiable enough, but she was frowning.
Max lagged behind the others, lighting a cigarette. She didn’t like Liz Bentley. Jo wasn’t fond of her either, but they never mentioned their feelings about Liz to Sam, who was very much a mama’s girl.
Liz wagged a finger at Max. “Keep that away from the house, Maxine.”
“You bet.”
“And put it out in Josie’s truck, not on my driveway.”
“Yup.”
Liz seemed to be waiting for Max to say something more, but she walked around the truck and leaned against the back. “Well, hello, Josie. Haven’t seen you in a while.”
“Hi, Liz. How have you been?”
“I’ve been well, thank you. And thank you for chauffeuring Samantha around lately. I should be getting my car out of the shop tomorrow.”
“What did Jack want today, Mom?”
Jo was annoyed by the childlike tone Sam took around her mother. “Yeah, that was interesting,” she said. “He knew Sam wouldn’t be here.”
“He wanted to talk to me.” Jo thought there was a note of pleasure there, something almost like pride.
“Oh.” Jo walked over to the hydrangeas. “Hey, these are pretty. So, what did he say?”
“It’s family business, Josie. I promised him I’d discuss this only with Samantha.”
Isolate the target.
“You know I’ll tell them anyway, Mom.”
Max opened the passenger door of the truck, reaching in to crush out the cigarette. She looked over the top of the truck at the three of them, her eyes expressionless. “We hanging out for a while, Jo?”
“You both go on.” Liz smiled at Jo. “Samantha doesn’t have to work tomorrow, so you can call her in the morning.”
“That’ll be just keen, Mrs. B.”
Jo shot Max a look, then reached out to give Sam a quick hug. “Call if you need anything, Sammy.” She gave Liz one of her best smiles. “Good to see you again.”
“You, too. Goodnight.”
Max raised her eyebrows, then waved and got in the truck. As they backed out into the street, she started picking at her nails.
Jo glanced at her. “You’re picking again.”
“Can’t stand that woman.” She looked back at Sam and her mother. Sam looked so small next to her. She was only slightly taller than Jo, small-boned, with dark brown hair halfway down her back. Liz was at least five-feet-ten, and very thin; and, although she would be seventy in July, had the elegance of a much younger woman. She had been a lounge singer in the early 1970’s, but claimed that she gave it up when Sam was born, thirty-eight years earlier. She told anyone and everyone–and especially Sam–how great a sacrifice it was; as a result, Sam had spent her life trying to win the approval of a mother who was determined to use her as the reason for a lifelong martyr trip.
It was a useful enhancement to Liz’s well-publicized sacrifices that Sam’s father had taken off with a neighbor lady when Sam was only four. Liz had then married twice, the first time for six years–until the guy got fed up with Liz’s temper; the second time, when Sam was thirteen. That one lasted two years. He took off for parts unknown when Sam told her mother about his late-night visits to her room. It turned out that he hadn’t needed to run: Liz didn’t believe her daughter. Not at all.
“Stop picking.”
Max stuffed her hands into her pockets. “Yeah. Can’t help it.”
“We’re going to look out for her, Max. She’ll be okay.”
“I just can’t understand how a mother can act like she does.”
Jo reached for her hand, squeezing it twice.
They pulled up at Barley’s a few minutes later; neither one moved to get out of the truck. “Want to just call it a night?” Jo asked.
“I think so. Long day. Again.”
“Where’s your car?”
Max pointed to the back of the lot, pulling her wallet from her pocket. “Got a ten? We have to pay Bobby. Leave him something, too.”
Jo pulled two twenties from the center console. “Here. This day’s on me.”
She sighed, reluctant. “Thanks.”
“Don’t mention it.”
Lightly touching Jo’s cheek, she said, “Really. Thanks for being here.”
“Coffee in the morning. Not too early.”
Max smiled and nodded. “See ya.” As she got out, she said, “Let’s go get Sammy in the morning, take her out to breakfast or something.”
“Good idea.”
“’Nite, sweetheart.”
Max watched Jo drive off, wiping at her eyes as she headed in to pay Bobby.
chapter 4
BY MORNING, THE weather had gone the usual way of a New Hampshire spring. The sun and the breezy warmth had blown away with a front circling in from the northeast, and it was cold, drizzly, and a little foggy.
Jo came fully awake realizing that her eyes had been half-open for a while. Daisy rolled to face her, putting a heavy paw over Jo’s stomach.
“Mornin’, Daisy.”
She thumped her tail a couple of times, and went back to sleep.
“I don’t have to go to that place today.” She gazed out the bedroom window. The birch tree that rose just above the frame was swaying hard, the branches coming within a few inches of the fragile glass with each gust.
She liked the gray, windy days; sometimes, she actually preferred them. The sunshine-and-seventies weather got boring quickly, and she had never cared much for warm weather anyway.
She gingerly moved Daisy’s paw onto the bed, and slid out from under the covers. Stretching, she laughed aloud. “I don’t ever have to go there again.”
The room was cold. She stutter-stepped over to the heater, twisting the wheel on the old steam radiator. It hissed to life immediately, but she knew it would be a while before the room was comfortable. Grabbing her blue fleece bathrobe off the back of the bedroom door, she wrapped herself in it and shivered, enjoying the sudden warmth.
I can go back to bed. But the thought energized her, and she realized with some regret that she wouldn’t doze off again.
“Going to make coffee, Daize. You sleep.”
The microwave clock read 6:44. She made the coffee extra strong, the way Max liked it. As she pulled their mugs from the cabinet, she heard her cell phone buzzing on the nightstand. She hadn’t set the alarm the night before, and she smiled, thinking about how she no longer needed to set an alarm.
Daisy stirred as she went in to check her phone. Max had texted.
You awake?
“Wow. What are you doing up?”
Yeah just made coffee
Be up in a few
“C’mon, Daize. Out.”
They met Max coming out of her apartment as they came inside. Daisy strained at her leash, sniffing at Max’s hands, looking for her treat. “Huh-uh, Daisy-Lou.” She bent to scratch her neck. “Not until we get home.”
Daisy knew the word, and started dragging Jo up the steps. “Geez, Daisy…Yesterday, I thought she was at death’s door. Today she’s dragging me around.”
Daisy looked back for her treat as they went into Jo’s apartment, then trotted busily into the bedroom with it. Max smiled after her. “I love that dog, Jo.”
“Too much.” She handed the pink mug to her.
“What was wrong with her yesterday?”
“She was coughing. Seemed to collapse, kind of, but then she seemed fine. Had her usual trouble jumping on the bed, but the way she looked when she was coughing–that was scary.”
“Think she needs the vet?”
“I took her in last month. He said it wasn’t anything to worry about, just age.”
“Gimme your cup.” Max filled them while Jo took the cream from the refrigerator, and they took their coffee to the dining room, taking their usual seats in front of the big window.
Jo looked expectantly at Max, who raised an eyebrow and said, “What?”
“You haven’t said ‘good coffee’ yet.”
She grinned. “Good coffee. Am I that predictable?”
“I count on it. It’s comforting. What are you doing up so early?”
Her smile widened, and she rolled her eyes. “Okay, to be honest, I was so excited that I don’t have to go to work at that cesspool anymore, I just couldn’t sleep most of the night. I mean, I know I need to find a new job, but for now…Well, I’m really looking forward to the lake.”
“I’m up for the same reason.”
“Get out. We should have stayed up all night and drank beer then.”
Jo laughed. “We’ll do plenty of that at the lake.”
“Hey,” she set her mug on the table, turning to face Jo, “let’s drive up there today.”
“Strafford? Why?”
“’Cause we can. Besides, has Grady called you back yet?”
“Not yet.” She considered it. “Kind of a rainy day…The lake will be deserted. Could be nice.”
“C’mon, Bim. You could show me the house.”
“And maybe find Grady.” She set her cup down with a thud. “Hit the shower.”
Max hurried out to the kitchen to refill her cup. “I’ll bring it back.”
“We’ll stop in Raymond for breakfast.”
“Let’s take the Daizer, too. I’ll call Sammy.”
“Yup. Go.”
They were in Raymond by ten, with Daisy staring out the back of Jo’s truck, panting and wagging, barking at everything she saw.
Liz had declined the invitation for Sam, saying she was still in bed, but Max wasn’t buying it.
“Just do not trust that woman, Jo.” She pointed ahead. “Turn right there.” As they pulled into the drive-through, she glared out the window, her lips pressed together. “She probably won’t even tell Sam that I called.”
“I know. We’ll find her when we get back.”
They ordered breakfast sandwiches and coffees, and waited in the line that was now six cars long. Max pulled out her phone. “Was hoping she’d call by now.”
Jo sighed. “Look, we’re worried. Maybe we should be. But we need this day. We’ve been so stressed for so long now, we need to get away from everything. Just for this day. Okay?”
Max was nodding, opening her phone. “Yeah, okay. You’re right. I’m just gonna send her a text, and then we’ll enjoy some breakfast.”
Jo sighed again. “Go ahead, call her. See if she picks up.”
“No, I don’t want to do that. Just a text.”
“Fine.”
They were the third car in line when Max finished. Jo was frowning, studying the car ahead of them, where a male voice was blaring a cuss-filled rant that was easily heard through the open windows. “What’s going on up there?” she mumbled, squinting through the windshield.
Jo gasped as a man’s hand flew off the steering wheel and swung to his right, a hard backhand. A child, invisible below the level of the seat, started crying–the high-pitched, sobbing screams that small children are able to produce without inhibition, with no worry for anything other than their own preservation.
Daisy sat bolt upright in the back, growling, looking anxiously through the front of the truck. The child was screaming even more loudly, and Jo was out of the car before Max could say anything.
“It’s always something,” she muttered as she opened her door to follow her. “It’s always something.” She ran back to shut the truck’s door, remembering that Daisy was in there, then jogged to the car where Jo was leaning on the passenger’s front window, saying something that Max couldn’t hear.
As she got to the car, Jo said, “He’s even got a baby in the back. Look.” Max saw an infant, no more than a few weeks old, laying unrestrained across the back seat.
“Oh, man…” Max went to the back of the car, pulling her lipstick from her pocket and writing the license plate number on her forearm.
“Hey! What the hell…?” The man in the car turned, yelling out the window at Max. “What are you doing?”
She came back around to Jo. “How’s the kid?” She looked in at the little girl, who was cupping her hand over her nose, still crying.
A young man who had been in the car behind Jo’s suddenly appeared. The cars behind him were honking their horns, unaware of what the holdup was.
He touched Max’s shoulder as she was talking to the little girl, trying to comfort her. “What happened?” He saw a stream of blood running down the child’s upper lip, and he handed her a napkin that he pulled from his jacket pocket. “Here you go, sweetheart. Let me look at that.” He gently pulled her hand away, scowling at what he saw.
Jo was going back and forth with the child’s father. “…I saw you hit her!” She was pressing 911 on her phone. “And I’m not dealing with you anymore. The cops can do that.”
“Look, bitch…”
Phone to her ear, Jo’s glare went icy. “That’s right,” she hissed. “I am a bitch. I haven’t survived idiots like you any other way.”
The little girl started to cry harder. “Jo,” Max nudged her, “settle down.”
The cars ahead of them had moved on, and the father threw his car into drive, yelling as he pulled away. “Kiss my ass, and mind your own business.” He took a hard right out of the lot, and was gone.
Jo glared after him. “You got the plate?”
“Yeah.” Max turned to look at the young man who had approached them. “Thanks for helping out.”
He nodded. “I’m a paramedic. Name’s MacIntyre. Danny.” He had a thick, almost caricature-like Mainer accent. He pointed to the lipstick Max was holding. “Want to write my number down? I have to get to work, I can’t wait for the cops. But tell them that it looks
for all the world like that girl’s nose is broken.” He sighed. “Hell of a thing.”
“Going to get the truck out of the way. Move, Max.” Jo pulled the truck over to the side of the parking lot while Max took Danny MacIntyre’s number, and where he would be working that day. He waved as he drove off.
An hour later, they finished relaying the incident to the policemen who had gotten the call. They returned to the truck then, and Jo sat very still for a minute.
“Just want to relax a bit,” she said. Daisy was pawing at her from the back. Jo reached over the seat, patting her on the head.
“Hey, we never got our food.”
“Yeah. We should do that.” She rummaged around in her purse. “Darn it. Got a cigarette?”
Max laid her head against the rest, eyes closed, handing her purse over. “Never a dull moment.”
“They seemed more concerned that there were no car seats for the kids than for the four year old with the broken nose.”
“No, they didn’t.”
Jo passed a lit cigarette to her. “That was all they really asked about.”
“That’s because you were very detailed about the rest.”
She considered that for a moment. “Maybe.”
“Think we’ll have to come back out here to testify?”
“Probably not. It’ll go to Family Court.” Jo rolled her eyes. “We used to call that ‘the place where justice goes to die.’”
Max looked over at her, eyebrows raised. “Who’s ‘we’?”
Jo sighed and busied herself with the zipper on Max’s purse.
“I’d like to hear about it sometime.”
She reached over and patted Max on the leg. “You will. We’ll have lots of time.” She smiled at her then, hoping to end the conversation there. Max looked doubtful. “No, really. You will.”
Max knew to let her off the hook. “Want to eat now?”
She wasn’t hungry anymore, but was grateful for the distraction. “Yeah. I’m starving.”
