Can't Lose Me

by Amanda Torrey

  Mackenzie selected three boxes of candy, then put one back. She picked it up again on the way to the counter.

  “Don’t judge me.” Mackenzie retrieved cash from her pocket, waiting for Miss Molly to look up.

  Miss Molly continued her frenzied writing, slipping her scrawled-on tiny papers into a jar. Miss Molly’s “Worry Jar.” Mackenzie remembered it well. She had followed Miss Molly’s advice many-a-time and slipped her worries in, hoping that Miss Molly’s mystical ritual of collecting worries and releasing them into the universe through some top-secret method would indeed help relieve her of her worries.

  She couldn’t say it had worked, but then again, Miss Molly had always said it could take time.

  When more time had passed and Miss Molly still hadn’t looked up from her manic scribbling, Mackenzie grew worried.

  “Miss Molly?”

  No response.

  Mackenzie reached over and touched Miss Molly’s hand.

  The contact seemed to snap Miss Molly out of her trance.

  “Oh, goodness. Have you been waiting long?”

  Mackenzie shook her head.

  “Looks like you’ve got a lot to add to your worry jar. Anything you want to talk about?”

  Miss Molly’s one eye grew misty, matching the unusually dark eye patch she wore over her missing eye. Though she normally wore cheerful, whimsical patterns, today her patch was a solid foggy gray-blue with no embellishments.

  “You don’t need to listen to an old lady’s problems.” Miss Molly sized up the boxes of candy on the counter. “Looks like you have a few of your own.”

  Mackenzie quirked her lips and nodded.

  “You could say that. Let’s make a deal. I’ll write down my worries for the worry jar, and you tell me whatever you feel comfortable sharing about what has you feeling so down. Deal?”

  Miss Molly nodded, sliding a ballpoint pen with a googly-eyed pom-pom monster on the top and a small stack of papers across the counter.

  Mackenzie lifted the pen and tried to think of where to start.

  She wrote the first and only thing that came to mind.

  “Gabe.”

  Then she carefully folded the note before slipping into the jar.

  “Your turn.”

  Miss Molly retrieved her duster from under the counter and began dusting the register.

  “I’m just so worried.”

  “I could see that.” Mackenzie ripped into one of her new boxes of chocolate and offered Miss Molly first choice. Miss Molly shook her head.

  “I couldn’t possibly eat. My stomach is a mess with worry.”

  “Then I’ll eat one for you.”

  Mackenzie popped two pieces into her mouth and smiled around the candy.

  “Now tell all, Miss Molly.”

  “I don’t know if you’ve ever heard the story of the Blackthorne boys…”

  “Oh, please. Those guys are legendary. I went to school with one of them. I know there was some big deal about all of them leaving town…something about all of them packing up and leaving after their dad remarried?”

  Miss Molly nodded.

  “They are my great nephews. My husband’s brother’s grandkids. I helped poor Cecilia—God rest her soul—with the boys from the time they were in the cradle until they towered over me so she could work that farm of hers.”

  “Do they keep in touch?”

  Miss Molly’s eye filled again, but she shook her head until there was no sign of a tear.

  “They won’t come home. They blame their new stepmother for driving them away. No holidays. No vacations. I keep in touch with them on that internet thing—Facebook? They each remember to send me a card every Christmas and on my birthday. No matter how much I hint around, they won’t come for a visit. I even told them I’d put them up at my house if they didn’t want to stay at the old farm, but they will have none of it.”

  “And you’re missing them today?”

  “I miss them every day. But there’s a problem.”

  Miss Molly hesitated.

  “I’m not supposed to let anyone know that I know.”

  Mackenzie leaned forward on the counter and whispered, “I am sworn to secrecy. You don’t tell anyone I bought three boxes of candy, and I won’t tell a soul what you told me.”

  “I’m supposed to be the one giving counsel. This is all backwards.”

  “You’ve given me a lifetime of counseling, Miss Molly. Trust me, I will be better served hearing your troubles.”

  “Brent Blackthorne has gone missing.”

  “Brent as in the owner of the farm? Your nephews’ dad?”

  Miss Molly nodded and reached for a tissue, which she twisted in her hands.

  “What’s the story behind that?”

  “No one knows. He was missing three days before his wife reported him missing. The police don’t seem too concerned. They think he has a drinking problem, but I don’t think he ever did. I think his wife may have let them believe that.” Miss Molly took a sip of her water. “I think the boys should come home to find him. I think they are the only ones who can save Brent.”

  “How will they find him if the police can’t?”

  “The police won’t. Doesn’t mean they can’t. The only one I feel would be competent enough to handle this situation is Officer Jenkins, and he just left for the week. Even so, his hands will be tied. Brent had his problems, but he was a good husband to my sweet Cecilia. And he tried his best with those boys.”

  “Has anyone told them their dad is missing?”

  Miss Molly shook her head. “I sent one of those messages on the Facebook, but my niece said none of them have read it yet. I don’t know how she can tell. I don’t know if any of them even spend any time on that thing.”

  “I’m sure when they see your concern they’ll come running.”

  “I wouldn’t be so sure.” Miss Molly waved her hand in the air. “Enough about that. What has your pretty little head so worried? Trouble in paradise?”

  Mackenzie faked a smile. “Why, Miss Molly, I can’t believe you’re asking. I have always been under the impression that you know everything without having to be told!”

  Miss Molly clucked. “Now, now, my girl, don’t be getting fresh with me. My senses may be a little off because of my worries, but the truth never changes. I may have only one eye, but I see everything. And I have been seeing that something has changed with you and our precious Gabe.”

  Mackenzie nodded. There was no point trying to hide things from Miss Molly, and at least she wasn’t a town gossip, unlike some of the other elders who liked to spread rumors.

  As Mackenzie unloaded her worries in the verbal way, she could feel her spirits growing lighter. Miss Molly had something magic about the way she listened. The way she could see.

  “I know you don’t need an old widowed woman telling you what to do, but I know that very soon an opportunity will present itself to you. You’re going to want to turn it down, but I want you to take it. Put yourself out there. Experience what life would be like without Gabe. Only then will you know for certain.”

  No lie, as soon as the words were spoken, Mackenzie’s phone vibrated. Sabrina had sent a text inviting her to go out for a girl night on the town.

  Mackenzie had never done that. Ever.

  Miss Molly smiled knowingly.

  “There’s your opportunity, sweetie.”

  “How did you…”

  Miss Molly pointed to her good eye.

  “I keep trying to tell you kids. I may only have one eye—”

  In awe, Mackenzie finished, “But you can see everything.”

  “That’s right. Now go on and get yourself cleaned up. I know you’re not the kind of girl who goes out drinking and dancing on tables, but maybe tonight you can give it a try.”

  “I don’t drink. Never have, never will.”

  “I’m not saying you have to become an alcoholic. But just because your daddy did wrong doesn’t mean you can’t let your inner youngst
er run wild for one night.”

  “I don’t know…”

  “But Miss Molly knows. Don’t forget. Time to loosen up.”

  When the town matriarch, easily one of the oldest citizens of Healing Springs, tells one to loosen up, a smart one would take her advice.

  Mackenzie had to decide whether she was going to be a smart one or stay stubborn and hold on to her old ways.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Gabe would have preferred for the incoming text to have torn him from a sound sleep, because at least that would mean he had managed to sleep.

  How had he become so dependent on his wife’s company for his sleep health?

  When he reached the phone and saw the text was coming from her, his heart began to race.

  She had sworn she’d have nothing more to do with him and would give freely grant him the divorce. And now she was texting him in the middle of the night.

  She had never been the booty call type, so what the hell?

  Was she hurt?

  He called her rather than texting, since the text simply asked what he was doing.

  “Kenzie? What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing’s wrong, Gabey. I was just thinking of you and thought I’d see what you’re up to.”

  He scratched his head and dug his toes into the carpet beside his bed. She sounded… happy.

  And drunk.

  “Where are you? What are you doing?”

  “Oh, I’m just hanging out in town. Sabrina draaaaagged me out to see some new band—Brina, what were they called? I can’t find her. Dusty Trashbin or something. Anyway, I decided to try one of those fruity drinks with the cute umbrellas. They are gooooood. Why did I swear off drinking all those years?”

  He grit his teeth and thought about hanging up.

  But the joy in her voice made his blood swirl in his veins.

  “You should go back with your friend.”

  “She’s somewhere.”

  “I don’t hear a band.” Was she making it all up?

  “That’s because I came outside to call you, silly.”

  “Go back in. Stay with your friend. You shouldn’t be alone.”

  “I know! That’s why I called you.”

  “Go find Sabrina, Kenz. I’m going back to bed.”

  “Alone?”

  His breathing stalled at the cloying desperation in her voice. His heart demanded that he bring her home to show her that he didn’t want to ever be without her again, but he had to be smart for a change.

  “Goodnight, Mackenzie.”

  “I hate when you call me that. I hate when you’re mad at me.”

  He imagined the joy that had been bubbling over in her voice draining out of her body and dripping down the storm drains on Main Street.

  “I’m not—”

  She sniffled into the phone. “You are. I know you are. You’re mad at me and you hate me and I’m the worst person on the planet. You’re right—you should hang up. Sorry to bother you, Gabe. I lo—I mean, goodnight.”

  The click from the disconnected call was painful in his ear.

  He tightened his grip on the phone and flung himself back on his pillow, cursing when he slammed his head against the headboard.

  Now he’d definitely kiss the idea of sleep goodbye.

  Seconds later, his phone started dinging. Nonstop.

  Expecting texts from Kenzie, he was surprised to see texts from Derek, one of his poker buddies, lighting up his screen.

  “Ur girl has gone crazy. Little worried.”

  “Dancing on the bar. People are cheering her on. Pretty sure she’s wasted.”

  “I have to get home, but I don’t wanna leave her here like this. Thought she didn’t drink?”

  “She’s a fucking mess, dude.”

  “Ok, she’s getting down.”

  “Shit. The bartender shut her off, but some dude is giving her shots in the back corner from a paper bag. I’m getting her the hell out of here.”

  “WTF? Why aren’t you answering?”

  Gabe slammed his phone against the wall and got dressed faster than he ever had before. He reached the bar just as Kenzie was stumbling out of the door, nearly falling into a group of amused looking men gathered on the sidewalk.

  She steadied herself on the arm of some loser. Gabe’s blood pressure could have ignited a rocket.

  He was at her side immediately, grabbing her other arm and jerking her away from the smiling piece of shit who could have easily taken advantage of her.

  She struggled at his rough grip until she turned her mascara-streaked face up to look at him through her red eyes.

  “Gabe!”

  His name came out in a breathless gasp. Her eyes widened, making her look as innocent as the day he had met her.

  “You came!”

  Adoration lit up her face. She reached up to touch his cheek.

  And then she puked on his sneakers.

  Derek appeared at that moment, jumping back to avoid the splatter. He held a cloth to his bleeding nose.

  “Sorry, man. I was trying to keep up with her. I take it you finally got my messages?”

  “Yeah. Thanks.”

  “No prob. Just figured you’d want to know she wasn’t exactly being safe. Never seen a girl change personalities so drastically. And damn, she has one hell of a right hook.”

  Gabe didn’t want to hear it. He didn’t want to think of his wife dancing on a fucking bar or drinking out of a stranger’s fucking personal stash of booze.

  He couldn’t yell at her while her body was eliminating the toxins at his feet.

  He had no right to yell at her at all.

  “Wait a second—she punched you?”

  “Yeah. Can’t blame her, though. I grabbed her by the arm to drag her out of there. Didn’t occur to me that she had no clue who the hell I was.” Derek dissolved into laughter. “Pretty impressive, like I said.”

  Though Gabe was strangely proud of his wife for standing up for herself and defending herself physically, he was less-than-impressed that she had stumbled out here alone in her condition with a bunch of could-be-dirtbags just waiting for someone to be drunk enough to go home with them.

  Where the hell was her friend? The one who dragged her into this mess? The one who should have been by her side making sure she didn’t get into trouble?

  Said friend stumbled out of the bar with her shoes in her hand and a forehead crinkled in worry.

  “Oh, Jesus. There she is.” Sabrina pulled napkins from her purse and started wiping Kenzie’s mouth. “Guess we went a little too fast for your first time.”

  “My wife isn’t a party girl. Why the hell are you trying to make her into one?” There was no way to control the anger in his tone. This was unacceptable.

  “From what I hear, she’s not going to be your wife much longer. And I’m pretty sure she stopped being your concern when you tossed her out on the streets.”

  Derek let out a low whistle. “Oh, man. Sorry. I didn’t know. Guess I shouldn’t have texted you.”

  “Yes, you should have,” he shot at Derek, then turned his wrath back to Sabrina. “You think I shouldn’t be concerned that the friend she should be able to count on lets her get this drunk? Do you even know the men who were plying her with more alcohol after she had been shut off?”

  Sabrina shot her own glare at Derek first and Gabe second.

  “Yes, of course I know them—one of them is my brother. You think I’d let her drink from a stranger’s stash? Glad to know your opinion of me is so low. I always suspected it was, anyway.”

  Gabe didn’t want to fight with Sabrina or anyone else. That was a lie—he had the strongest urge to punch someone or something. Unaccustomed to this urge or the unfamiliar rage tearing through him, he lifted Mackenzie, tossed her over his shoulder, and carried her toward his car, ignoring her fit of giggles and the worried way she gripped the back of his shirt.

  “Where are you taking her?” Sabrina ran to keep pace with his long strides.

>   Over his shoulder he said, “Derek, can you be sure Sabrina makes it home safely? I’m taking Mackenzie home.”

  “You can’t do this to her, Gabe!”

  He didn’t respond.

  He carefully buckled his errant wife into the passenger seat, reclining the seat when her head lolled to the side. She smiled up at him as he tended to her.

  He looked into her eyes for a moment before he slammed the door.

  She dozed off on the drive up the long rural road that led to where he had heard she had been staying.

  He had considered bringing her to his house, but he couldn’t. He wouldn’t. He didn’t want to screw with her head, no matter how much she had screwed with his.

  After arguing with the cottage owner, Reed Peterson, over the phone, he finally was able to obtain the room number Kenzie had rented. Noticing she didn’t have a purse, he reached into the pocket of her too-tight pants and retrieved a single key. Balancing her on one side, he got the door open, fumbled around until he found a light, hissed back at the cat who had once been his friend but now decided he was a dangerous intruder, and placed this stranger of a woman on the bed.

  She smiled invitingly. Warmly. Like things were normal and they weren’t days away from a divorce. Like she hadn’t ripped his heart out of his chest and tap-danced on it until it stopped its erratic beating. Like she hadn’t changed everything about herself and left him hanging, mourning the love he had thought they’d share forever.

  Like she hadn’t destroyed him all over again.

  As he watched the alcohol take her as a prisoner to sleep, he began to question his way of thinking.

  What had she done that was so wrong?

  He dragged a chair over to her bedside and didn’t shove Georgie off his lap when she jumped up and started kneading his chest.

  He couldn’t leave her in this condition, so he’d do what he did best—watch over her. Protect her. Love her.

  For the last time.

  ***

  Mackenzie struggled to free herself of the oppressive blankets that tried to suffocate her. She kicked and tugged, but only managed to tangle herself more. Her hair conspired with the blankets, curling around her face and getting stuck under her shoulders, trapping the god-awful stench of stale alcohol and dried vomit.