by Julie Howard
After forty-five minutes of aiming, shooting, missing, and reloading, her hand was frozen and stinging. The three cans sat on their perch, unblemished.
“You’re not a natural, but that’s okay. Sometimes the sound of gunshot is all you need to get the point across. But we can do this again. Sooner or later, you’re bound to get the hang of it.”
Meredith glowered at the cans as a few stray snowflakes drifted down. “I won’t give up,” she vowed.
****
Rain turned to snow over the next few days, sticking to the ground, piling inch upon inch, and icicles dripped from the eaves. Meredith tugged on her boots and stomped out to the shed, sinking mid-calf into the slush. Ten minutes later, she returned lugging the rabbit hutch up the steps and into the living room. Five tiny, furless creatures wriggled nonstop at Grendel’s belly.
Jamie’s face scrunched up in horror at the sight. “Mommy, they’re so ugly. Where’s their fur?”
She studied the newborn rabbits, not sure if they were supposed to have fur at first. Deformed or not, the possibility of having six frozen rabbits in her shed was a worse option. “I don’t know. I guess fur comes later.” Or maybe these are mutants, she thought. “Let’s hope.”
Atticus toddled over, examined the cage, and quickly lost interest. He settled down with his building blocks, and carefully laid one on top of the other.
“I’m hungry,” Jamie announced, her attention still riveted to the cage. “I’d like waffles.”
Meredith’s stomach growled, reminding her she hadn’t consumed anything other than coffee since she woke. “Not cereal?” She gave an exaggerated expression of shock. Cereal was the household favorite for breakfast.
“I don’t think so. Waffles,” her daughter ordered again.
One of their few kitchen appliances, aside from a toaster and crock pot, was indeed a waffle iron. It’d been a Christmas gift from Brian one year, but rarely used since his death. “You’re right, it does feel like a waffle day,” she agreed. “How about some help?”
Jamie patted the top of the cage, obviously torn between waffles and baby rabbits. Hunger won out and, after a lingering backward look, she followed quickly into the kitchen. Jamie stood on a chair at the counter while the ingredients were set out, one by one, in front of her. Meredith handed her a big spoon and cracked eggs into a bowl.
“My teacher is reading The Cat in the Hat,” the five-year-old chattered, stirring the eggs in a circle. Meredith took up the spoon and whipped the eggs quickly and handed the spoon back to her daughter. “It’s my favorite book ever. It’s about a bad cat who makes a mess. He cleans everything up again though. What’s your favorite book?”
She poured oil into the eggs and measured out the other dry ingredients. “I have lots of favorites. ‘War and Peace,’ ‘Pride and Prejudice,’ ‘Animal Farm.’”
“‘Animal Farm.’ What’s it about?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never read it.”
“Mom,” Jamie protested, exasperation in her voice. “A book can’t be your favorite if you’ve never read it.”
“All my favorite books are ones I’ve never read. They’re the ones I can look forward to reading.”
Her daughter was quiet for a moment, pondering the idea while Meredith plugged in the waffle iron. Jamie poured flour and baking powder into the eggs and stirred the mixture around the bowl. “Do you believe in heaven?”
The topic was a surprise, and she spoke slowly, not wanting to get this wrong for her daughter. “I believe there’s something.”
“What about for bad people? Do you believe in something for them too?”
They’d never discussed this subject and now, out of the blue, her five-year-old wanted to know if she believed in some version of hell. She sprinkled salt and sugar into the bowl and added a dash of vanilla. “I really don’t know. I hope there’s something good for everyone. Something better.”
“I like it here best,” Jamie said, her tone firm. “I like my house and my school and my Laf and my rabbits.”
Meredith pointed to herself and her daughter giggled, adding, “And my Mom and Atticus.” The girl turned somber, her mirth disappearing. “Daddy’s not here anymore. He’s not coming back, is he?”
She gave the top of Jamie’s head a kiss, breathing in her daughter’s shampoo. “No.”
“Do you have a daddy?”
She should have expected the question would come someday, the questions about her own parents. Her daughter was growing up. The directness of the words, though, stunned her into silence.
Jamie let the spoon fall into the bowl and it sunk under the waffle batter, vanishing. She turned her face up, eyes wide. “Mom? Is he dead, too?”
It was peculiar how she’d never considered her father might be dead. He’d always been a faceless shadow “out there” somewhere; a stranger to seek one day, despite her mother’s warning against seeking him out. “I don’t know, sweetie. I never met him.”
She poured the waffle mixture into the iron and squeezed the lid shut, batter oozing out from the edges.
“I like it when the stuff squishes out.” Jamie giggled, the topic of dads forgotten.
****
Jamie and Atticus watched the baby rabbits most of the morning, waiting for fur to sprout and trying out names for each of them. Meredith plucked dead rodents out of all three mousetraps and reset them, thinking even dead mice were far cuter than newborn rabbits.
Water seeped into the house from different angles, dripping onto the middle of the stove, the back of the couch, and created an ever widening stain on the ceiling of Jamie’s bedroom. She set out pots to collect the drips, then tackled the black mold that returned in the bathroom no matter how much she scrubbed it with bleach. Old wallpaper on one bathroom wall, dark green with pink roses, peeled at its edges. Meredith spent an hour stripping the paper away, finding the glue fused to the wallboard and the result of her efforts was a battered and pocked wall. She turned away, seeking something to do that wouldn’t make a situation worse. The house continued to disintegrate faster than she could fix it.
Honey’s question about Curtis lingered in her mind. Why didn’t he drop by like he used to? Did their relationship have to be all or nothing? She pondered this as she traipsed back out to the shed in search of sandpaper to smooth the mess she’d created to the bathroom wall. The falling snow mutated to half-rain, and she was soaked through when she returned to the house. She toweled off her hair, changed her socks and returned to the bathroom with a handful of used sandpaper, its grit mostly gone.
Meredith sat back on her heels and stared at the destroyed wall, wondering if she’d ruined all chances with Curtis. Her house wasn’t the only thing needing repairs. Would she have to be the one who went wooing, and convince him she wouldn’t come unglued every time someone died?
A damp smell settled into the house and the wood floors stayed cold no matter how high she turned up the pellet stove. Their home exuded an atmosphere of slow rot in defiance to all her hard work to combat it, despite the new curtains, new paint, and bleach. As much as she tried to love the place back to life, the old house had sat empty and unloved for decades longer.
This is my house, she thought, for better or worse. She’d paid Brian’s debt on it and also the property taxes, a concept she still didn’t quite understand; why would you continue to pay money on a possession you already purchased, free and clear? Still, they had a roof over their heads, even if it leaked a bit, even if mice nibbled at the woodwork, even if ice formed inside the windows at night. It was the only home she ever lived in and she wasn’t going to let go. Even Crusty had a rough start when he moved to Hay City, feuding with a neighbor over land and garden gnomes, but now a business owner with a new love of his own.
As for Curtis…maybe it was time to risk love once more, after all. She could put Jacob and Brooke—and Brian—out of her mind and start fresh.
Life is messy; it’s all about how you handle it. Her mother’s catchphrase r
ang out in her head. One day at a time. Her own motto kept her afloat. And through it all was Honey’s more direct battle cry: Get a backbone girl. She wouldn’t give up. Never.
She attacked the wall with a fury and rubbed the sandpaper over the surface until it was worn smooth.
****
Jamie clutched her arms tight around her body. “I don’t think so.”
Meredith eyed the lion costume with dismay. She’d convinced Jamie to use it mostly as pajamas, but it still made an appearance on school mornings from time to time. “It’s filthy. You can put it back on as soon as we get home.”
“Just today, please. I promise. I double-pinkie promise. Karin says if I break a double-pinkie promise, my toes will fall off.”
It was the pleading in her daughter’s eyes that softened her resolve. She doubted a double-pinkie promise would matter; her daughter most certainly loved her lion costume more than her toes. With the issue of clothing settled, they headed off to Curtis’s house.
She didn’t call ahead, telling herself she didn’t want to hear he was busy or there was something else he needed to do on his Sunday afternoon. The truth was she wanted to see him, if only for a minute or two.
He lived exactly three-point-six miles from her own house, a seven-minute drive if she drove the speed limit. With the roads sloppy from half-melted snow, the drive took eight-and-a-half minutes, and her heart raced faster as they neared. His home was self-built, a tiny one-bedroom place on a parcel of land adjacent to his parents’. The porch to his house faced a line of tall pines, marking the boundaries of his property. Beyond, there was a view of the Sawtooths, looming high above the trees. Meredith took a breath and then another. The twangs of country music could be heard playing inside and her heart thumped, knowing he was at home.
The door swung open and Curtis stood in his bare feet. “Hey.”
“I wanted…” She nodded back toward the car where Jamie waved wildly. “Well, you’ve been missed so we wanted to invite you on a little snow hike. Jamie wants to go lion hunting.”
He smiled and leaned against the doorway. Meredith gazed up at him and her breath caught at the gladness on his face. “Appears like you already caught one.”
She glanced back at her daughter and laughed, color rushing to her cheeks. “Honey made the costume for Halloween. My little lion hasn’t changed her clothes much since; she even sleeps in it.”
He gestured inside. “Trails are pretty messy, but why don’t you all come in for a bit. I’m making huckleberry pancakes for a late lunch. Do you suppose lions like huckleberries?”
The easy-going invitation surprised her. Wooing wouldn’t be difficult in this case; avoiding broken hearts would be the danger ahead. “Lions definitely like pancakes. And I love huckleberries.”
The blare of a car horn caused her to jump and she whirled around to see Jamie in the front seat. She beckoned her children to get out of the car, and the three of them filed into the house and stomped the wetness from their shoes. Meredith took two steps inside the room and stopped by a rack to one side, filled with two pairs of boots and a pair of slippers. She helped her kids off with their shoes and then slipped off her own, noticing with dismay her socks were frayed at the big toes. She felt her face heating up. She’d spent extra time on her hair and clothes. She wore a pale blue sweater that heightened the green flecks in her eyes and left her hair loose and soft at her shoulders. She’d added a tad more makeup than usual, with just a touch of mascara at her lashes, but there’d been no reason to fuss about her old socks.
“Nice place,” she offered quickly, hoping he wouldn’t notice her feet, and in the next moment as she looked around she meant it.
The tidy room served as living room, dining room and kitchen. As small as the space was, its simplicity was stunning. Dark wide-planked floors, fireplace neatly set with wood, old-fashioned crank windows; the place was sparsely furnished, yet with an eye for clean lines. A skylight high above the dining area carried natural light into the room.
“This is…beautiful,” she breathed.
Curtis led them on a tour, clearly proud of his compact house, pointing out various features: the fold-out dining table, extra tall ceilings to add a sense of space, high cabinets for storage, open shelves in the kitchen above a farmhouse sink. He hesitated only for a moment and then beckoned her to the bedroom, where she gasped to see a roll-up garage door set into the back wall.
“Want to see?” he asked and without waiting for an answer, he cranked open the door and the bedroom’s entire back wall opened up to a wide deck. Cold air rushed in. “It’s great in the summer when there’s a breeze. And for watching the stars.”
Jamie made him raise and lower his bedroom garage door three times. “You have the best house ever,” she exclaimed, eyes shining. “When I grow up, I’m going to have a house just like this one.”
“This is amazing,” Meredith agreed. “I can’t believe you did this all yourself.”
Curtis cranked the large wall door closed, locking it firmly against the floor with a thud. “Five hundred and fifty-nine square feet. My original plan called for just five hundred and fifty square feet but I forgot one thing. The extra nine square feet is for my washer/dryer. They’re stackable so they need less space.”
She shook her head in wonder. She’d never seen such a lovely home, so carefully designed and lovingly crafted. There was something about the meticulous craftsmanship that evoked an emotion in her she couldn’t define. This was a man who took care with everything he did, who didn’t cut corners.
“You’re in the wrong profession,” she said. “You should build houses. Or at least design them. I mean, you are really great at this.”
“I considered it. Maybe a fallback, if I get voted out as sheriff,” he quipped. As he passed by her to go in the other room, he murmured near her ear, “Glad I was missed.”
Meredith set the table for four while Jamie poked huckleberries into the sizzling pancakes alongside Curtis, making smiley faces in the batter. “We ate waffles for breakfast but I like pancakes better,” she told him.
While they dug into their breakfast-for-lunch, he asked, “How’s the class going?”
“Almost done now. I think I’ll pass but I don’t think I’ll be a chemist.”
“Did you want to be one?”
She laughed. “This is just the start for me.” She stopped, realizing how true those words were as soon as they were out of her mouth. Starting the class, putting her husband’s ashes and memory to rest, fixing up her house; she was launching a new life.
He nodded and appeared to understand her sudden confusion. He gave her a moment.
“You’ll need to be careful driving up the mountain now. Most people have four-wheel drive vehicles and can handle the roads. And they’ll close the road down pretty soon.”
“It was still clear last week,” Meredith said. “Even with a little flurry, I didn’t have any trouble.”
He gave her a stern look. “Things change quick up the road. The mountain can get a couple feet of snow overnight.”
“Mom shoots guns with Honey,” Jamie chimed in.
There was a long silence before he responded. “You bought a gun?”
She kept her gaze focused on her plate. He knew her fear of guns, and her sudden change of heart might not speak well to her emotional stability. She felt his stare boring into her. “I’m using Honey’s. It’s just a little target practice, for fun.”
“Well,” he admitted. “I’m a bit surprised. But it’s not a bad idea to know how to use one.”
“Predators,” she mumbled.
“Lions,” Jamie added.
Curtis cleared his throat. “Speaking of Honey,” he added, changing the subject. “She invited me over for Thanksgiving dinner and suggested I bring a guest…or three.”
Meredith was startled at the invitation. Leave it to her friend to do a little matchmaking behind her back, pushing and arranging and manipulating as usual. It was so natural sitting ac
ross from Curtis at his table, her two children on either side. A family. “Thanksgiving?”
“It’s about the pilgrims, Mom,” Jamie explained, patience in her tone. “And turkey.”
One corner of Meredith’s lip twisted up. “I’m familiar with it.”
Curtis’s ears were pink. “A date, then?”
A buzzing from the kitchen counter interrupted before she could answer. Meredith’s emotions swirled in different directions. Is this the moment? Did we just cross the line from friendship to something more? He was waiting for me to make a move, she realized. To come to him.
“Meredith.”
The tone of his voice deepened and his demeanor was somber. She knew the call was work, something he would have to attend to. “What is it? What’s happened?”
He took a breath and glanced at her children. “The older priest up at Twin Lakes. Father Karl. It’s…just like Jacob. The coroner asked me to go check it out.”
Chapter Twelve
Another death in Twin Lakes, but not murder. Definitely not murder, Meredith warned herself even though her brain was screaming otherwise. She rose from the table and forced her hands to keep from fidgeting.
“Kids, we’d better go,” she said, barely keeping a quiver from her voice. Death seemed to be lurking too close to her these days.
“I want to go lion hunting,” Jamie protested.
Meredith picked up the dishes from the table. She practiced saying the words coolly in her mind before she spoke them out loud. “The sheriff has important work to do. We’ll hike another time.”
It wasn’t fair. Today of all days, the most normal of Sunday afternoons. Why did Father Karl have to up and die? Somehow, she made it to the front door without showing how rattled her nerves were. A million questions flew through her mind, but she swallowed each as they rose to her lips. There were normal questions and obsessive questions, and she’d lost perspective on which was which.
“Thank you for the pancakes,” she intoned, keeping her voice flat and her gaze on the floor, not wanting Curtis to see her agitation. “They were delicious.”
