by Renee George
“Do you have any idea where she could be?”
“I’m afraid not, Sunny.” Her long eyelashes closed and opened in a slow blink. “Babe. That poor boy. He was frantic about finding out what happened to his brother, then time took the fight out of him. And now this with his sister. He’s got to be devastated.”
Babel had only come to Peculiar to find his brother and now to find his sister. I could understand why he didn’t want to be here. I had my own worries concerning Chav, but this town held nothing but loss for him. It would be hard for me to stay in a place where I kept losing people I loved.
I wanted to take back every mean thing I’d thought about Babel. He was grieving, and I hadn’t noticed. “Have you heard any rumors about Chav or Judah? Anything that could explain why one or both of them vanished?” Or did disappearing off the planet happen all the time around this place?
Ruth looked stricken for a moment, but she pulled herself together quick. “There are always rumors, Sunny. Usually half-truths and innuendo. You can’t take stock in such tales.”
My gaze traveled past Ruth to the hall outside the kitchen while I thought about Ruth’s aversion to straight answers. A flicker of movement caught my eye, startling me. I spilled the coffee I’d brought to my lips when I saw what looked like the back half of a deer disappear around the corner.
“What? I…” I felt silly when a small boy with buff-colored hair and holding some antlers came running into the kitchen. He flung himself onto Ruth.
“Mom!” He couldn’t have been more than five or six years old. He rubbed his face against Ruth’s and she smiled, her expression relieved. In his carefree way, the way most children are, he didn’t notice I was there—until he noticed. The boy stood stock still, his brown eyes, so much like his mother’s, stared at me.
Absently, Ruth touched his cheek. “Linus, this is my new friend, Sunny.” She’d said “new friend” with a hint of caution. I wasn’t sure if it was meant for me or Linus.
“Hi, Linus.” I held out my hand, he took it in a firm grasp. As firm as his small hands would allow. “Nice to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you, Sunny,” he said shyly. His tone was an octave high for a boy, but his face was soft and bright like a cherub, and it seemed fitting he should have the voice of an angel.
“Linus is my baby.” Pride filled her face.
“Mom, I’m not a baby anymore.”
I suppressed a grin thinking he’d probably said that line more often than Ruth cared to hear it. “How many children do you have?”
“Eight,” she said, suddenly looking tired.
“Holy cow. You don’t look old enough to have had eight children.”
She grinned at that. “I’ve been telling myself that for years. But sure enough, eight kids all the same. Tyler and Taylor, the oldest boys, are twins. First and only set, thank the powers that be. Not an easy birth, let me tell you. Next was our oldest girl, Dakota Michele. Ed and I had a whale of a fight over that name. Then Emma Ray, Butch—well, Leroy, but we’ve always called him Butch—then Thomas, Lisa Ann, and last but certainly not least, Linus.” Ruth hugged her son for emphasis. The boy beamed his pleasure through a toothy smile. “Go play,” she said to Linus and gave him a slight smack on the butt as he exited the kitchen.
“He’s adorable.” I was still trying to get my head around eight kids. The woman didn’t look nearly as worn out as she should have. “Incredible, five boys and three girls.”
“Yep, and two grandkids.”
“No freaking way. You must have started when you were twelve.” I realized after I’d said it that I wasn’t being very PC. So, I amended my statement. “I only mean that you look way too young to be a grandmother.”
“It’s okay, Sunny. No offense taken. I did start young, as you say. I was seventeen when I married Ed. He was just so handsome, he took my breath away. By the time I was eighteen, Tyler and Taylor had been born. Tyler’s been married two years now. And funny enough, his wife Darla had twins recently. Girls, mind you, but still.” Ruth looked wistful and happy as she thought of her grandbabies.
“So, Tyler married when he was…” I let the question hang.
“Eighteen. Just like his father.”
That made the boys twenty, which put Ruth at thirty-eight.
“Wow.” Again. Her figure was tight and compact, not like you’d expect with a woman who’d squeezed out a bunch a kids. And her face was smooth, not a wrinkle in sight. I mean, I was a little younger than Ruth, only by a couple of years, and I was already getting small lines at the corners of my eyes. “So, Taylor didn’t marry?”
“No,” she smiled again. “Taylor and Tyler are identical twins, but no two boys could be more different. Taylor’s left-handed, Tyler’s right; Taylor is rowdy and loud, Tyler’s gentle and quiet. Taylor is carefree, while Tyler is serious about everything. I’ll tell you this, I’m proud of both of those boys, really I am, but Tyler was definitely easier.” Ruth chuckled. “Over the years I’ve learned that being a mother means being adaptable. Every one of my children are different from each other, and what works for one doesn’t necessarily work for any of the others.”
Mommy wisdom. Interesting. I nodded my agreement. Mostly because there wasn’t much I could say or add. I’d never been a parent, and until you are one, you just don’t know. At least that’s what I’d been told.
Ruth got up and opened a cabinet. She pulled down a photo album and flipped through the pages, pointing out her children through different ages and stages. I nodded, smiled, and fawned when appropriate. All her boys, along with her oldest daughter, Dakota, had their father’s buff-colored hair, while the rest of the girls had their mother’s tawny-brown locks. I was a little surprised to see that Ed, her husband, had the same large brown eyes that Ruth had, and each of the children had inherited that particular trait.
The next page was a wedding photo. Tyler’s wedding. The picture included the whole party. Taylor stood next to the groom, then Leroy, and though I had no idea who he was, the third man in the groomsmen line looked familiar. Loosely kempt medium-brown hair, except for a shock of white on the right side, square chiseled jaw, compact build. I pointed. “Who’s that?”
“Judah.” She sighed as if the name pained her. “I think if Tyler hadn’t felt obliged to name Taylor his best man, he would have asked Judah. They were great friends.”
“Were? Did something happen between them?”
My question made Ruth pause for a moment. Then she said, “No, just, well he’s gone now is all.”
There was more she’d left unsaid, but I didn’t push. “He looks a lot like Babel.”
“No.” Ruth shook her head. “Babel looks a lot like Judah. Judah was older by twelve years.”
“How old would he be now?”
“He’d be thirty-four, give or take a few months.”
“Oh.” Inside I kicked myself hard. Judah being thirty-four put Babel at twenty-three now. I’d been literally lusting after my best-friend’s baby brother. I’d never asked her how old he was, but Chav was thirty-five, so that made Babel an “oops” baby. He’d just seemed more mature, the scruff on his face giving him the appearance of a man who’d done more living.
I stroked my finger over the picture of Judah. I felt buzzy again, right before a vision of Judah standing in this kitchen, holding Ruth, his lips pressed to hers. She’d pushed him away, surprise written all over her expression, and slapped him hard across the face. As I took my finger off the picture, the vision went away. The glimpse of Ruth’s past left me embarrassed. It wasn’t any of my business.
Ruth scooted her chair, bringing me back to the present. “Sunny, I like you. I really do.” I could feel a “but” coming. “So it pains me to say this. You need to leave town. I’m sorry Chavvie’s missing, but this isn’t a place you want to live.”
My lips tightened against my teeth. Not her, too. “Ruth, I’m staying. I don’t know why everyone wants me to leave
, but…Do you believe in destiny?”
She seemed to consider the word for a moment, then slowly nodded her head once. “Maybe.”
“When Chav first suggested I come out here, I thought she was nuts. I’m a California girl, the sun, the beach, all of it, but even then I was attracted to this place. Before I’d even laid eyes on Peculiar, I knew I wanted to be here. That I needed to be here.”
She turned her head sideways to really look at me. It reminded me of the small beagle that used to run around the compound where I grew up. It would cock its head toward its shoulder and stare at you curiously. A little unnerving.
“I will tell you this, if you’re determined to stay. Lock your doors tomorrow night. Lock your windows. Lock everything.”
“What’s going on with this town? I know there’s something you’re not telling me.”
“I don’t like to lie, Sunny. I almost never do. So, don’t ask questions about things I can’t tell you.”
“Fine. Can you at least tell me what’s going on tomorrow night?”
She didn’t answer.
“Is there a storm coming in or something?”
“Something like that,” she said. “Sunny, if you were a smart woman, you’d get out of town.”
I liked to consider myself a smart woman, and while my head told me to heed Ruth’s warning and run like the wind, my heart had already decided to put down roots.
I’d left Ruth’s feeling wholly unsettled. When I got back to the diner, Neville Lutjen and Babel were arguing. They both got quiet as they saw me approach. “Hello again, Mayor Lutjen.”
“Hello, Sunny,” he said with the full force of his charm. When he smiled it made his face look young and handsome, even under the beard and mustache. I could see why he’d been elected to office. He gave the appearance of confidence and competence. Add in charisma, and probably money, and Neville was the epitome of a politician. “Nice day.” He tipped his head to me.
Through clenched teeth, Babel said, “Thanks for stopping by, Neville.”
“We’ll continue this discussion later, Babe. Bet on it.” He tipped his head again to me. “Ma’am.”
“What was that about?” I asked when the mayor was out of earshot.
Babel shook his head. “Your coming to town has stirred up a hornet’s nest, Sunny. Folks around here aren’t happy with Chav or me.”
The “folks” would just have to get over it, I nearly said aloud. With all the warnings to leave, I had a healthy sense of alarm, but I was more concerned for Chavvah. She’d stayed in Peculiar because of her determination to find out what happened to her brother, and if I had gone missing, she would have been just as dogged. It is the kind of person Chav is and has always been at her very core. So, there was no way in hell I was going to let the local yokels run me out of town until I found her safe and sound.
Before I could say as much, Jo Jo came barreling out the door. “Oh, hey, Sunny. Everything’s in. You had a lot of junk in that trailer.”
I didn’t take offense to the use of “junk” to describe the only personal items I brought with me from California. Most of it was junk, but it had sentimental value. “Are you trying to renegotiate your salary?”
He blushed, and again it made him seem impossibly young. “Nothing like that.” Jo Jo grinned sheepishly.
I dug in my purse and pulled out two twenties and a ten. I handed the money to Jo Jo, which he eagerly accepted. “My keys?”
“On the counter inside.” He stuffed the money into his front pocket. “You need any more help, you just let me know.”
I liked Jo Jo. It seemed he was the only one in town who actually wanted me to stay. “Thanks. I might take you up on that.”
“Get on home, boy. Your pa’s probably fretting,” Babel said.
“Doubt that.” Jo Jo grimaced and rolled his eyes. “I’m going.” He took off toward the south end of town, practically skipping as he went.
I went inside, Babel following close behind. I could sense his presence, even without turning back to look. “What an odd name. Jo Jo. What’s it short for?”
“Jolon. His father owns a small piece of property just outside of town. Good kid for the most part. Gives his dad a lot of grief. It’s got to be hard being a single parent.”
“Where’s Jo Jo’s mother?” I turned around and found myself toe to toe, and nose to chest, with Babel. His nearness made my lungs tighten.
He shrugged. “She ran off, or so some say, when the boy was only eight.”
This close to Babel, I found it hard to think. His wide masculine shoulders made me swoon. His lower lip stuck out just the tiniest bit in a too-cute-to-not-kiss way. Ack! I had to look somewhere else, but when I tried, my gaze immediately went to his abs and hips. Definitely not better. Not if I wanted to string sentences together coherently. I chose his eyes as my final target. His blue eyes were the color of cold, but they warmed me up from the inside out. I held his gaze, gulped, then managed to say, “And his dad never remarried?”
“No. I don’t think Brady Walker has ever given up on the idea that she might return one day.”
“Wow, that’s sad.” And romantic. In a tragic and lonely way.
“Yep.” Babel stroked his hand down my arm. A simple touch that left me squirming on the inside.
Why was he touching me?
His mouth, slightly fuller on top than bottom, relaxed into a soft pout. I wanted to feel the softness of his lips pressed against mine. My heartbeat quickened and my palms went cold and clammy. I could warm them on his skin if I could just make my arms move. He dipped his head toward mine, slow and careful. I wanted him so badly, it frightened me.
He sniffed my hair, a long drag of air. “You smell…Like home.” He traced the skin of my lower jaw. “You shouldn’t, but you do.”
My knees were pudding under his weighted gaze. There were so many reasons why jumping on Babel couldn’t happen. Shouldn’t happen. First, he was much younger than me. Second, he was my best friend’s brother. And third, finding Chav was my number one priority, not finding a boyfriend. And in spite of those obstacles, I felt strongly attracted to him, desperately attracted to him. The kind of desperation that made me stupid and impulsive, and made me forget my best friend was probably in serious trouble.
I had to stop whatever was going to happen. I had to stay on track with the reason I’d come early in the first place. “Does that happen a lot around here? People just up and disappearing?”
Babel looked stricken. He stepped back. His kissable lips pressed into a thin line.
“I’m sorry, Babel.” And I was sorry, for more reasons than just one. My brain said I’d done the right thing, while the more primal parts of me cussed like a sailor on shore leave.
He narrowed his eyes at me. “What are you getting at?”
“I don’t know.” Shrugging, I looked away from him to stare at the small window above the door. “What you said about Jo Jo’s mom, and…” I had no idea where I was going with this line of thought. So, I changed the subject. “I met Ruth Thompson today. She told me a little about Judah—”
“She should mind her own damn business.” His voice combined anger and hurt all rolled into one painful package.
“She didn’t say much. I swear.”
He sniffed. “What did she say exactly?”
“Only that Judah had been a good man and a good friend. I got the impression that she missed him.”
This seemed to surprise Babel. “I didn’t know they were close.”
I didn’t tell him I’d seen Judah kiss her in a vision, and even without that vision, her voice had betrayed how much she’d felt for him. So instead, I said, “He was best friends with her son Tyler.”
He grunted. “Hmm. Tyler’s always given me the impression he didn’t like Judah much.”
Strange, but okay. At least Babel didn’t look angry with me anymore. “What do you think happened to your brother?” My voice held an edge. “An
d do you think it has anything to do with Chav?”
I watched him tug his lower lip between his teeth. My body reacted to the gesture. It seemed to be reacting a lot around Babel. The impulse to take that lower lip between my own teeth ran through me like a double shot of espresso. I clenched my fists, digging my fingernails into my palms, trying to force out the feeling. I didn’t understand my reaction to him. Sure, he was yummy goodness in a hard-body package, but the lure was more primal.
“I don’t know,” he finally said. “Neither Judah nor Chavvah would have disappeared without a word to anyone. It’s not in their natures. They are somewhere out there, maybe together, maybe not, but I have to hope. Right?”
He referred to his brother in present tense. He believed Judah was alive, that both his siblings were in trouble, but not in a no-turning-back kind of way. I touched his hand, a gesture of compassion, and in that moment, I saw him sitting alone by a fire in a large living room. He looked much younger, less seasoned. He couldn’t have been much older than fourteen or fifteen in the vision.
Judah walked up behind him. “Don’t be mad, bro.”
Babel turned to him. “I just don’t understand why you want to leave.”
“I can’t make it work out here. Not like Mom and Dad.” Judah ran his hand through his loose curls, tucking the white patch behind his ear. “I don’t want to integrate. I want to be what I am. What we are. Without always stressing and hiding.”
A young Babel had pivoted away from his brother, unable or unwilling to respond. Tears formed in his deep-blue eyes and I staggered back, breaking the small thread linking me to Babel’s past.
