October Snow

by Jenna Brooks

  “I’ll start dinner. We can talk then.”

  Sam stopped and picked a few daisies from the cluster at the side of the house, then they disappeared around the corner. Jo quickly stepped inside the kitchen and dialed Dave. He answered on the second ring.

  “Jo…”

  “Hey. What’s up?”

  “How’s Sammy?”

  “She’s fine.” She relayed to him then the story of Daisy’s death. “She’s paying her respects right now.”

  He was silent for a moment. “I’m so sorry, Jo.”

  “Thanks.” She cleared her throat. “But we probably have only a few minutes here, Dave.”

  “Yeah. I just…You’re right. Okay here it is: you did a lot of actual in-court advocacy for the center, right?”

  “I did. Why?”

  “Are you familiar with an attorney named ‘Demares’?”

  She felt the blood rush painfully to her head as her stomach cramped with adrenaline.

  “Jo? You there?”

  “Mickey Demares?” She wanted to wash her mouth out with something after saying the name out loud. “Yeah. I know him.”

  “He’s Jack’s lawyer.”

  “Is he now?”

  “Will told me he’s a real son of a bitch. What do you know about him?”

  That he needs to die.

  “He is. He’s also the reason I had to take Keith back, after I tried to divorce him the first time.”

  “What happened there?”

  “Keith retained him, and they blackmailed me. I’ll tell you about it sometime. Just remember this: if Will described Demares as anything less than absolutely evil, then he understated him. Badly.” She tried to take a deep breath, but her chest was tight. “He believes that all women are gold-digging Jezebels, who use men just to steal their sperm and then soak them for child support.”

  She glanced out to the deck, checking for Max and Sam. She put her hand to her forehead, her throat closing as a lifetime of smug, sneering faces passed before her: the endless succession of posturing, oversexed males. The lecherous, leering creep at the bar. The customers at the restaurant. Fast-food daddy, breaking his daughter’s nose. The angry, abusive males who would picket the crisis center, who would scream their threats and throw things at the advocates. Barb. Amy. Tony Toddson. Keith. His IT friend, Ken. Shelly. Judge Schultz. “Doctor Death” Walker. Mickey Demares.

  Jack.

  Matthew and Johnny.

  It’s time.

  “Dave, where are you?”

  “Almost home.”

  “Tell Tyler that I’ll have his mom there tonight.”

  “What? She wanted to…”

  “Know what? I don’t give a rat’s ass what she wants. And in this case, neither should you. She’s not staying here when she needs you and Ty, and when you guys need her.” She heard them coming up the steps to the deck. “I’ll have her there in a few hours.”

  She snapped her phone shut, muted it, and went out to the kitchen to meet them.

  They looked older than their years, Jo thought. It had been too much for too long. She remembered the discussion she’d had with Max, about earthquakes.

  Sam gave her a weak smile. “It’s a nice spot for her.”

  “Let’s have dinner, guys. Then you’re going home, Sammy.”

  “What?” She looked confused. “Come again?”

  “We’ll grab some dinner, then I’m taking you back to Boston.”

  “Jo, I need some time. I need to decide what I’m doing.”

  “Then go decide it with your husband.”

  Max nodded her agreement.

  Sam looked back and forth between them. “You’re kicking me out?”

  “I am.”

  “You know what I want to do.”

  “No,” Jo snapped. “We know what you think you have to do. It’s not what you want.”

  “If I don’t, then it’s over. He wins. I’m not going to let him ruin Tyler!” she shouted. She grabbed her backpack from the counter. “I’ll get a hotel.” She was digging frantically through it. “Where the hell is my phone?”

  “Sit down, Sammy,” Max said, her voice steady.

  Sam ignored her, still trying to find her phone.

  Max gently took the bag away from her. “Sit down, Sammy. Please.”

  Jo was standing at the counter with her head down, her palms flat against it, her shoulders hunched. She looked up at them as they sat at the table, loving them both. Sorry for all three of them. But more than anything, she hated Jack. And Mickey Demares, and all that he stood for. And all of the people like him, the people who had so smugly cost her her life.

  Sam was crying softly; Max rubbed her back, looking at Jo.

  “Hey! Sammy!” Jo slapped the countertop. “Look at me!”

  Sam faced her instantly, startled.

  “Straight up–do you want an abortion or not?”

  She shook her head, the tears running in a torrent down her face–her eyes filled with the despair that Jo knew too well. “There’s no other way.”

  “You think you’ll ever be able to get past it?” Max asked.

  “If there was any other way, I’d take it.” Sam was becoming defensive, and it stemmed her tears.

  “How much do you trust me?” Jo asked.

  Max felt her scalp prickle. “Jo…”

  She gave her a calm, cautionary look, and Max decided not to push. For now.

  Sam was wary of the question, but she said, “You know I trust you. Both of you.”

  “Then go home. Be with them. They need you tonight.”

  The truth of it hit her hard, and she slumped, giving in. “Then what?”

  “It will be okay. I promise you. Everything will be okay.”

  They crossed the border into Massachusetts just before eight o’clock. Max had been quiet for most of the trip, wondering why on earth Sam hadn’t asked more about that promise–why Jo would even make such a promise to begin with. She wasn’t given to empty bravado, and she didn’t bluff. There was some idea, a plan. Something had hatched.

  She looked at the back seat, where Sam had fallen asleep just a few minutes after they left the lake. Max didn’t like even the mild degree of animosity she felt toward her at the moment; yet, it seemed like so many of the issues that were now, apparently, about to send Jo on a hero bent again stemmed from Sam’s bad choices.

  In her rational mind, she knew that she was being unfair. She knew that the stress she felt was clouding her judgment.

  “She’s still asleep?” Jo asked.

  “Yeah.”

  Jo glanced at her. “You’re quiet.”

  “Not much to say.”

  Tyler was at the window as they pulled up to the townhouse. From the truck, they could see him calling for his dad, and then he disappeared from view. Dave emerged a minute later, coming to the driver’s side of the truck as Jo got out.

  “She slept all the way down,” she said.

  He kissed her cheek, then looked through the window at Max. “Hi, sweetheart. Thanks for this.”

  Max nodded, saying nothing.

  “She’s pissed at me,” Jo said.

  “Why?”

  Max scowled. “Hey Dave, maybe you can find out why she promised Sammy that everything’s going to be just fine.”

  Sam was stirring, and Dave opened the door, sliding in beside her. “Hey,” he said, gathering her into his arms.

  It took her a moment to get her bearings, then she threw her arms around his neck.

  “Mom!” Tyler called from the window. “Mom!” He was waving, holding his Red Sox bear.

  “Go on in, babe. I’ll get your things.” He helped her out of the truck, then turned to Jo. “I’d like to talk to you for a minute, if you have it.”

  “Sure.”

  “I’ll go in with Sammy,” Max said listlessly, taking one of the bags.

  “Jo, come say ‘bye before you leave?”

  “Yeah.” She leaned against her truck, looking a
t Dave. “So…?”

  “I want to know what you’re doing.”

  She lit a cigarette. “Abating a nicotine fit. Two hours with your wife in the car, so I couldn’t smoke.”

  “Come on, Jo. What are you up to?”

  “Why do I have to be up to anything?”

  “You told them everything will be fine.”

  She moved to the side so the smoke wouldn’t reach him. “Keep her here with you. Give me a couple of days to work something out.”

  “What are you talking about?” Alarms were going off in his head. She was completely flat. “Jo, you can’t go and hurt the guy.”

  Her expression was unreadable. “I won’t touch him.”

  “Nothing illegal?”

  She laughed, but it was brittle. “First, would I tell you? You’d have a choice between turning me in or losing your law license. And second, no. I won’t do anything illegal. Trust me. I know how to flush these guys out.”

  He wasn’t reassured by her answer, not at all, but he saw Max coming down the steps of the townhouse. “Take care of yourself, Jo. You and Max are co-godmothers.” He thought he saw something flicker in her eyes, the briefest reflection of the Jo he knew, but she closed over quickly.

  “Thanks for that.” She crushed her cigarette on the street. “You guys are sweet. Don’t worry about me, Dave, just take care of Sammy.”

  “Let’s get going.” Max came around to hug him. “Talk to you soon.”

  Dave had a sudden impulse to snatch Jo’s keys, to keep her there. To keep her safe, especially from herself.

  “Yeah,” Jo whispered. “It’s getting late.” She looked toward the house–so welcoming, with the lights shining through the windows, and his family safely tucked inside.

  A flood of regret washed over her. Maybe, she thought, some things really are never meant to be. Maybe the comforting mirage in front of her was never her destiny at all, and the years of longing, and hoping–and hurting–had been for nothing. “Tell them I said goodbye.”

  He pulled her into his arms, his hand on the back of her head, knowing there was nothing more he could say. There was no way to protect her. Whatever the outcome would be, it was already in motion.

  chapter 20

  JO MERGED ONTO the highway heading back to Manchester as Max chattered beside her.

  “If it has nothing to do with offing the guy, than what is it?”

  “‘Offing’? We going gangsta now, Maxine?”

  “Don’t deflect.”

  Jo hated having to lie to her friend. She also hated that she was so good at it. “To tell you the truth, Bim, it’s kind of complicated. I haven’t figured it out for myself yet, not completely.”

  Max wasn’t satisfied, but she warmed slightly at the sound of their usual nickname. “But you do have some kind of a plan.”

  “Yeah. And I will, absolutely, fill you in on it in a day or so.” She could see that Max was relaxing some. “I just have to make a call or two,” she added. That much was true.

  “And you’ll do nothing that’s gonna put you in jail.”

  “No. Nothing.” She looked at her with a hopeful smile. “Just give me a couple of days, and then you’ll know everything. And as long as we’re staying in Manchester tonight, let’s go see Bobby. He probably wonders what happened to us.”

  Max brightened considerably. “Ooh, that would be perfect.”

  She was satisfied for the moment, and Jo was relieved. She was growing weary of sidestepping their questions. It was hard enough, giving no indication whatsoever of what the night would hold.

  She glanced at the dashboard clock. “We can stop by the apartment, check on things, and still be at Barley’s by ten.”

  Max stretched, then checked her reflection in the visor mirror. “I think I may grab a quick shower.”

  “That’s fine.” Jo realized it would give her an even better opportunity to lose her. “Take your time, because I’m going to do the same. We’ll shoot for eleven. It’ll be good to take it easy for a night, huh?”

  Max sighed. “You got that right.”

  They were quiet then, until they pulled up to the house. “Wow,” Max mumbled, “this seems like a lifetime ago.”

  Jo felt her way down the hallway–the lights were out again. She fumbled a bit to unlock her door in the dim light.

  Swinging it open, she waited to hear Daisy jump off of the bed, and then resisted an urge to run from the apartment as the silence cut through her.

  She went straight to the kitchen, digging in her pocket for her phone, and her heart leaped as she saw two messages. She knew that they had to be from the boys. She needed to hear their voices, needed it desperately at this point.

  The messages were from Jack, the usual heavy breathing. Her impulse was to smash the phone against the wall, but she couldn’t. Everything tonight would turn on having that phone on her. “You,” she said, “do not win this one, Car-boy.” She kicked the refrigerator, hard enough to send a shockwave all the way to her hip. “Neither do you, Pit Bull.”

  She brought John’s number up on her phone, then snapped it closed again.

  Where are you? something inside her wailed, and she remembered the dream.

  I didn’t look behind me…because I didn’t want to see that there was no one there.

  “They’re gone,” she said aloud, forcing the reality of it to permeate her mind. “Keith won.”

  She went into the bedroom, and her eyes rested on her favorite picture, the photo of the three of them. She snatched it from the table, turning to hurl it against the wall - but the faces of her little boys came to her again, and she froze.

  “Oh, no,” she whispered. “Oh, no …”

  She crumpled slowly to the floor, holding the picture to her heart. And she cried, her tears landing on their smiling image as she wept over it, the sobs coming so forcefully that she felt her heart would stop.

  Eventually, she calmed herself enough to make her way to the bathroom. She splashed her face with cold water, holding it to her swollen eyes a few times. Catching her reflection in the mirror, she took in her slack expression, the dullness of her eyes. And she wondered why she had ever hoped for anything at all.

  Staring herself down, she said, “This time, they lose.”

  Back in the kitchen, she emptied her purse on the counter. She picked up Sam’s phone, scrolling to the texts she had saved after taking it from Sam’s backpack.

  Jack knows and I want to abort

  Better hurry it’s getting late

  Okay

  I’ll take you. It’s the right thing to do

  She scrolled through the texts that she sent to herself from Sam’s phone earlier that day:

  You have an appointment at the clinic don’t eat or drink right now

  Thanx Jo will it hurt

  Hardly at all Ill pick you up in an hour

  She checked the time, then sent another to Sam’s phone:

  How are you feeling

  She waited a few minutes, then sent the next one to herself:

  Okay bleeding but not bad

  tired tho im so relieved

  you were right Jo thanx

  “Let’s wrap this thing up,” she muttered.

  Get some sleep Ill call you tomorrow

  “That’ll do it,” she said, pleased with herself. She erased the texts from Sam’s phone and slipped it back into her purse. Then she checked her own phone for the pictures she would need.

  She felt a little crazy as she called him. That was a good thing, she decided. Crazy was a useful thing for her tonight.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey there, Jack.”

  “Who is this?”

  “It’s Jo.”

  He exploded. “You can’t be calling me! What is this? A setup? Trying to get me on the restraining order?”

  “Screw the order, Jack. Your cell will show this as an incoming call anyway, so you’re in the clear.”

  He was intrigued. The one thing he wanted more
than anything else–except to torment Sam, of course–was to get a shot at Josie Kane. “What do you want?”

  She sighed, playing with him. “There’s some stuff that you need to know. Meet me at Barley’s. Half hour.”

  “No way. This is a setup.”

  “I already explained that to you. Okay,” she said, a resigned tone to her voice, “find out the hard way.”

  “Wait,” he hurried to stop her from hanging up. “Just tell me.”

  “You won’t believe me unless I show you the proof, and to be honest, I don’t feel like wasting my time.”

  “What ‘proof’? What are you talking about?”

  “I’ll be at Barley’s in thirty minutes. You want to find out what’s happened, then be there.”

  He was seated at the bar when Jo walked in, at the second stool from the front door.

  Perfect.

  “Jack!”

  The bar was slow that night, and she was inappropriately loud. Several people looked up to see who had yelled.

  She ordered an amaretto rocks from the young woman behind the bar. “Where’s Bobby?”

  “He took the night off.” She slid the drink to her. “Four-fifty, please.”

  Jo handed her a ten. “Keep it. Tell Bobby that ‘Josie’ said hi, okay?”

  “Will do.” She waved the ten. “And thanks for this.”

  She slid onto the barstool next to Jack, regarding him with amusement.

  “Okay, I’m here,” he said. “What have you got?”

  “Bad news, Jackie.”

  He lifted an eyebrow. “Really?” he sneered.

  You really do need to go away. “For you, I mean.”

  “Well then, tell me.”

  “Sammy got away from you.”

  He chuckled, pushing his empty glass away. “Sure she did.” He leaned back in the chair, swiveling it back and forth, his hands in his pockets. “No, that isn’t going to happen, Jo.”

  “Yeah, that would be one hell of a messy divorce, right?”

  He laughed. “Okay, so you know. Still doesn’t matter.”

  “Oh. Okay.” She pointed to their glasses as the bartender looked over.

  “I’m good, Jo.” He indicated his empty glass. “That one was my second already.”

  “Too late. She’s pouring.” She motioned the bartender for doubles, then looked him up and down. “You can nurse it if you need to.” She dropped two twenties on the bar as their drinks arrived, nodding for the young woman to keep it. Delighted, she raised her eyebrows, smiling her thanks.