False Impressions

by Terri Thayer

J.B. shrugged. “Sometimes. But I didn’t want my truck to get known, so usually I took one of the cars they had laying around and left mine behind. That’s what happened that day.”

  Kit was not reacting, just watching her uncle closely.

  April said, “No one said anything about a missing car.”

  He laughed. It was curt. “It’s not like they were registered or anything. The, um, gang always had a couple of cars around the place. Stolen with fake plates.”

  Besides, April thought, no one was left to complain. It’s not like gang members could call the police. “Did you know who died?”

  “Yes. When I left that morning, two guys were in the house. They were both Cretins—gang members. They knew the chance they were taking.”

  April said, “One person was identified. What about the other? Someone’s family is missing that guy.”

  J.B. dropped his feet to the floor and leaned forward. April sat back, startled. “Look, for all I know they’d gone to the diner for food. Maybe no one was inside. Besides, those bangers had no family. They’d taken an oath to the gang. That’s their only loyalty. Most of their families think they’ve been dead for years.”

  Nice justification. April knew he might be right, but still. Someone was dead who people thought was alive, and someone else, J.B., was thought to be dead but here he was living a life. Of some kind.

  “Why didn’t you come forward when you knew people thought you were dead?” April asked.

  J.B. stiffened, and his chin jutted out. He looked like Kit when she’d told April about her uncle. Determined. Wrong, maybe, but in the moment, sure of their convictions.

  Kit said, “April, leave him alone.”

  J.B. seemed to make a decision. He pushed off his knees and stood. “I’m going to get out of here,” J.B. said, squeezing Kit’s shoulder.

  Kit jumped out of her seat. She gave April a hard look. This was her fault. “No, please don’t go. Can’t we just talk some more?”

  She hugged him hard. He patted her back. “Let me go. Just for a little while. I’m going to be around, Kitten. I promise. I want to go tell your mother that I’m here.”

  “You’re going to Mary Lou’s?” April asked.

  “You know my sister?” he said.

  “I do,” April said. “She’s my friend.” And she’s really going to be shocked, April added mentally.

  “Well, I’m taking a risk coming back into town, but I need to talk to my sister. Please don’t tell anyone I’ve been here. I’ll be able to come back for good real soon.”

  “You promise?” Kit asked.

  “I do, Kitten, I do,” J.B. said. “With all my heart.”

  He kissed Kit on the cheek, looking into her face. “You’ve grown up a lot in the last year,” he said.

  Death and pregnancy will do that to a girl, April thought. She felt so protective toward Kit. She was angry at this guy for making everyone so miserable.

  “Let me go straighten out a few things with your mother. We have a lot to talk over.”

  A flash of pain crossed his face. It looked as though his sister still had the ability to hurt him after all these years. He reached up to rub his eyes.

  “See that?” Kit said, nudging April and pointing to a string bracelet on J.B.’s skinny wrist. It was faded and shabby. “I made it for him in tenth grade. I used to have one just like it,” she said.

  J.B. stopped as he was going out the door. He spoke slowly, as if just remembering something. “This was a foreclosure, right?”

  “Yeah, my mother bought it from the bank.”

  “Did she know the family that lived here before?”

  Kit shrugged. She pulled up the collar of his jacket in a touching maternal gesture. She patted his jacket front. “I don’t know.” She held his gaze. “You’ll come back, right?” The competent mother of two was gone, replaced by a little girl afraid of the dark but soothed by her uncle’s presence.

  “I promise.”

  She hugged him close, her face hanging over his shoulder like a moon. April could see streaks of tears and felt her own throat close up.

  J.B. went out the door. They heard the crunch of his boots on the snowy drive and his car starting up. Neither of them moved until they heard him pull away.

  April went to Kit’s side. She smoothed her hair, pushing it behind her ears and looking into Kit’s face. “You okay?”

  Kit nodded, rubbing at her face to dry her tears. “Feels like a dream.”

  “A good dream?”

  Kit sighed. “Yes. A complicated one, but ultimately good. My mother is going to be so mad,” she said with a little laugh.

  “Mad doesn’t begin to describe what your mother is going to be.” April thought a moment, then asked, “What will you do now?”

  “Work on the house. Even faster. Logan and I need to get it ready.” Kit grinned. “Just think. When I host my first family party, my uncle will be here.”

  April said good-bye and left. J.B. wasn’t dead after all. Kit had her uncle back, and soon Mary Lou would have her brother. The twins would know him now. He seemed sober enough; maybe he could clean up his act for good. He’d said he’d stopped drinking, and if he could do that, who knew? Maybe he could be the guy they needed.

  April pulled out, careful to watch for icy spots where the water had lain during the day and then refrozen. The roads could be treacherous in the dark even when it hadn’t snowed.

  Her phone chirped with a text. “When are you going to get here?” It was from Mitch, naturally.

  She answered him with an “On my way.”

  There were only a few other cars on the road. Normal people were home, wrapped up in blankets watching The Bachelor. Light snow started to fall. She’d managed to avoid driving in a snowstorm so far this winter, making sure she was home or at Mitch’s. She’d lost her talent for driving on snow a long time ago. She’d only had her license for one full winter before she’d graduated early and left for San Francisco halfway through her senior year. Any skills she’d had were long gone.

  April felt her hands go clammy. She admonished herself. A few flakes weren’t going to make the road slippery. Suddenly headlights appeared on the road behind her. She’d just gone over a little rise, and the car behind was speeding downhill quickly. There was nowhere to get over out of the way. The roadway was already narrowed by drifts of snow on either side that would be as hard as a concrete wall.

  April slowed, and the car came up even faster. At the very last minute, it pulled around her. Her heart rate slowed.

  Cripes, that guy could have driven her off the road. Was he trying to make her have a wreck?

  She was relieved when she pulled up to Mitch’s ten minutes later. His house was brightly lit, and she could see from the chimney that he had a fire going. She wrapped her coat tightly around her and made a run for it.

  Mitch had been expecting her. He was heating milk for hot chocolate.

  “With or without?” he asked, holding the bottle of Baileys over her mug.

  “Definitely with,” April said. The warmer the better, the faster the better. Baileys would help.

  “You’re shaking. Are you okay?” he asked, dropping a dollop of the liqueur in her mug.

  “Some jerk was playing chicken with me on Dowling Road.”

  “In this weather?” He indicated the flakes falling outside his window and put down the bottle. He put his arms around her and hugged her tight. Her feet came off the ground and a giggle squeezed out of her.

  Mitch kissed her eyelids and handed her a cup of hot cocoa. “How about a bath before dinner?” he said.

  This was the worst part of being with Mitch. The ride home. She had to leave his nice warm bed and get into the freezing cold.

  “Stay,” Mitch said, his mouth tight with the effort of keeping his eyes open. He threw a heavy arm over the down comforter, but she scooted out of his grasp. As her feet hit the hardwood, the feel of the cold surface made her eyes pop wide open. The sensation reminded her
of when she was a kid and her foot had come out of her snow boot that had stuck in a snowbank.

  She scooted back under the covers. “I’ve got to get home.”

  It was late. She steeled herself to throw off the covers again. Mitch beat her to it, tossing his side of the comforter over her.

  She caught a glimpse of his bare back before he wrapped the extra blanket around his shoulders. Mitch staggered out of the bed, taking the top quilt with him. He headed toward the bathroom, she thought, but she didn’t hear the toilet seat go up. A moment later, she heard her car start up.

  She struggled to a sitting position and tried to gather her clothes without uncovering herself too much.

  Mitch raced back into the room, yelping. “It’s co-o-o-ld out there.”

  He sat down on the edge of the bed and belatedly put on his fur-lined slippers.

  “Let the engine run for five minutes,” Mitch said. “Or maybe ten.”

  What a guy. She’d been dreading getting into that frigid automobile. He was making her feel warm all over.

  “Time enough for one more snuggle,” he said, wrapping her in the quilt and gathering her onto his lap. He kissed her neck, but the tip of his nose was cold and she pulled away.

  He fought her, trying to get her to lay down with him again. She pushed him off, placing a pillow over his head for good measure.

  She said, “You’re just making it worse. I can’t stay. You know Charlotte won’t fall asleep until I’m home. Their bed is practically in my face when I walk in the door.”

  “The barn is bigger than that.”

  She looked at the clock. “It doesn’t feel like it at one in the morning when you are trying to sneak in like some kind of high schooler. I need to get dressed.”

  “Let me help,” he said. He shook out her jeans and held them for her to put her feet in. Awkwardly, she lifted her butt and picked up one foot. Mitch tucked the quilt under his chin and reached his long arms around and grabbed her foot. April started to laugh. She felt like an overgrown toddler being dressed by her father.

  “Quit wiggling,” Mitch said, his voice muffled in her shoulder.

  April giggled and stabbed her foot into the pants leg. The other was easier, and she stood up to snap them. Mitch popped her heavy sweater over her head.

  “You’re going to make a good dad someday,” she said just as the mass of wool descended. The sweater had a huge turtleneck and her words were lost in it.

  “What?” Mitch said.

  She turned around to face him and kissed him. “Never mind. Just saying you take good care of me.”

  “You deserve it.”

  “And now you deserve a little pampering. Get back into bed. I’m capable of putting my shoes on. Thanks to you, the car will be nice and warm. Go on.”

  He obeyed, settling back on a pillow, crossing his arms behind his head. “Text me when you get home,” he mumbled.

  April put on her socks and boots and heard his breathing even out. He was falling asleep. She tiptoed through the door.

  The snow had stopped, leaving only a slight dusting that blew away as she walked. No problem driving. This stuff was powdery.

  Still, she pulled out too quickly, making the car fishtail at the bottom of the drive. Her poor Californian car was not used to its new big bad snow tires.

  She turned on the radio to keep her company. A country-western station blared new country. She wasn’t sure who. Kenny, Tracy, Chesney, Heaney. Something or other. They all sounded alike, but it was either this or the oldies station. She’d heard “I Will Survive” too many times this week.

  April realized she’d never told Mitch about J.B. She’d have explaining to do when the news broke tomorrow. She’d blame him and his Three B’s—bath, Baileys, back rub. He’d managed to obliterate her thinking mind within minutes of her stepping in the door. Perhaps a repeat performance would be required to remind him.

  She passed only one car on the country road where Mitch lived and soon was at the turn to the major highway through town. She turned on her blinker, feeling silly as there was no one around to see it.

  She did obey laws even when no cops were about. She’d been known to pay the bridge toll at the Delaware Water Gap even when the wooden arm was stuck in the upright position.

  She’d always had a good relationship with the police before she moved back to Aldenville and met Officer Yost. They’d gotten off to a bad start her first day on her new job, and they hadn’t recovered. Perhaps by obeying all the traffic rules, even when he was probably home, snug as a bug in his bed, she might win some karmic brownie points.

  It was good that the roads were clear and empty. She was feeling so relaxed, her reaction times would be way off. Right now she wouldn’t be able to sense danger. Whatever hormones Mitch had sent rushing through her body were making her feel like her skeleton had turned gelatinous. She smiled and glanced at the mirror, ducking away as she saw her reflection. She looked like an idiot, grinning at herself.

  She couldn’t help it. Being with Mitch, even for only a few hours at night, made her happy. Very happy.

  A stop sign, with snow atop it like icing on a cake, loomed in front of her. She came to a complete stop. She was alone in the intersection.

  She pulled out her phone. Mitch wouldn’t get any real sleep until he knew she was home safe. She punched the message and sent it to his phone. “Home safe.” A little white lie. He’d be able to get some serious rest now.

  He took good care of her. The least she could do was return the favor.

  She pulled onto the roadway. The terrain was so flat and empty that she could see the lights of the truckers on Interstate 80 just a mile or so to the east, driving on their parallel track. Maybe heading to the early morning markets in New York. Traffic moved swiftly. She enjoyed the feeling of company despite the fact that the cars and trucks were a mile away.

  It felt good to have Mitch in her life. Had anyone ever cared about her the way Mitch did? By the end of their relationship, she and her ex, Ken, had led separate lives. He wouldn’t have cared that she was driving alone late at night on a deserted road.

  She’d thought she wouldn’t like having someone to account to. But she’d been wrong. She liked calling Mitch when she woke up, during her lunch break and when she got home from work. They exchanged texts and IMs several times during the day. She thought she’d get sick of all the contact, but she never tired of opening her phone to see the smiling face he sent her or finding him online and getting a cheery “Hey!” from him.

  She should have been to the Turkey Hill by now, and then the traffic signal. But she didn’t see the bright lights. The road curved, and she realized she’d made a wrong turn. Nothing looked familiar. In the snow, landmarks were no longer recognizable. She must have turned off Mitch’s road too early.

  The hairs on April’s arm tingled. She took in a breath and leaned forward, trying to guess where she was. The road was dark without many streetlights. Houses had been few and far between.

  She considered turning around, but the snowbanks narrowed the roadway to two small lanes. She couldn’t execute a three-point turn. If she tried, there was a distinct possibility that she’d end up in a ditch.

  April felt a flutter of nervousness, and she swallowed hard to relieve it. This road would probably cross the valley parallel to the highway and bring her out to the other north-south road, the one that Deana lived on. She could easily find her way home from there.

  She’d call Mitch. He’d reassure her she was on the right track. She reached for her cell and lost control of the wheel for an instant.

  The car began to slide. Her headlights glinted off something metal ahead. She let the phone drop and made sure her hands were on ten and two just as her father had taught her. She gripped the wheel tighter and took her foot off the gas. She was careful not to brake. If the road was just a little bit icy, it would set her into a spin.

  The bare trees along the side of the road were coming quickly at her. Her chest
tightened. There was a line of brush on the shoulder, with a pine forest encroaching behind. She didn’t want to go off the road. There could be a creek and ravine hidden under the snow.

  Steer into it. Her father’s voice came into her head. He’d taught her to drive. She saw a break in the snow cover, a gash all the way down to the mud. Her dad had told her that her hands would follow her eyes so it was important to keep looking straight ahead. Whatever was on the side of the road, she couldn’t let it distract her now.

  Her father’s voice in her head was comforting. His teaching her to drive had been a nice time for both of them. He’d been a good teacher. She missed Ed. He and Vince had been gone several weeks and expected to stay in Florida for two more.

  She pushed on the gas pedal and the car straightened. She skidded to a stop, half in the lane, half on the snowy shoulder.

  As her lights illuminated the scene more, April’s heart sunk. She had seen something off the road. The raw wound in the snow was tire tracks, half-filled with the latest accumulation. Someone had gone off the road like she almost had.

  She flicked on her flashers. She leaned over her passenger seat and stared. Her headlights gave her a clear view. She could see where the car had left the road, but there were no footprints in the snow.

  April listened but heard nothing but the distant rumble of cars on the interstate and the incessant burbling of a creek, which seemed to pay no mind to the dark and cold.

  She opened her door and called out.

  “Hello? Anyone there?”

  There was no engine noise. Had the car been there long enough to have run out of gas? Or had it shut off when it skidded off the road? Snow had fallen on and off all night. There was fresh snow in the tire tracks, but the accident could have happened anytime in the last couple of hours.

  She heard a noise. A human sound. A groan. She stopped moving. The trees creaked in the wind. What had she heard? She couldn’t be sure.

  She got out, picking her way carefully. In the trunk of her car, along with a newly added forty-pound bag of kitty litter for traction and a folding shovel that Mitch had given her to dig herself out of ditches, was a high-powered flashlight leftover from the earthquake kit she’d carried back in San Francisco. Gone was the bottled water and rations. It struck her that an earthquake kit would be mighty handy in the event of getting stuck in a snowstorm, too.