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A Box Full of Trouble

Page 80

by Carolyn Haines


  It wasn't until last Christmas that Noah started to think of her in a much different way. She'd come into the dealership with Shelby Rae to be surprised with a spanking new Challenger that her father had bought her for Christmas. Its 700 horsepower engine only had 42 miles on it, but Noah had put twelve miles more on it himself after Earl told him to take it out to make sure it ran perfectly before Erin arrived. The sleek black car was a beauty, with sports suspension and paddle shifters on the wheel that meant the driver could switch to manual without even touching the stick.

  Driving that car on the highway and on a couple of backroads he knew well had been among the sweetest fifteen minutes of Noah's life up to that point.

  But the day only improved when Bruce Walsh later called back to the department to ask that the car be brought around. Almost everyone was gone for the day, so Noah started the Challenger with the special red fob that engaged the full 700 horsepower (instead of the black fob that gave you only 500), and drove it around to the front of the dealership.

  Erin stood on the sidewalk, her hair tucked into a knitted cashmere beret, her mittened hands covering her eyes like a little kid. Her father's arm was around her shoulders. When she uncovered her eyes, Noah saw a look of pure delight. She turned and hugged her father. When she finally pulled away, a lock of her hair fell from her beret and brushed her lightly freckled cheek. It was in that moment Noah knew, given half a chance, he could fall in love with her.

  Chapter Two

  As Erin sorted through boxes looking for an unopened package of tumblers, she was aware of Trouble watching from a nearby counter. Trouble wasn't the only one watching. Noah Daly stood in the doorway, his hands in the front pockets of his jeans. To tell the truth, he looked a little embarrassed, and she felt kind of bad for him. Her father was always giving away things. Once he'd given away a Renoir lithograph of a little girl to her cousin, Janine, because every time she came to the house she would stand in front of it, twirling her hair trying to look like the girl.

  "It's really nice of your dad," Noah said.

  His voice was deeper than Erin remembered. A lot about him was different, and it made her a bit uncomfortable. Ever since she could remember she’d thought of him as someone she should hold a grudge against, even though she wasn't usually the sort of person to hold grudges. But she should be entitled to this one, right?

  She shrugged. "He likes to gift people things. Drives Shelby Rae nuts."

  "My mom loves decorating for holidays. You should see our house on the Fourth of July. She's already got that bunting stuff all over the front porch and flags all over the flowerpots. She'll probably invite our next door neighbor over just so she can use the glasses."

  Erin smiled. Her mother had loved to decorate, too. There were still boxes and boxes from every holiday from Easter to Christmas and Valentine's Day up in the attic. Shelby Rae used a big florist from Louisville for special occasions instead of putting up decorations herself. They were okay, but they were taken down after every holiday, and then replaced with different ones the next year. Erin swore that she would have a home of her own and use her mother's decorations, so she could have her memories back.

  "Hey, look out!" she said.

  Without warning, Trouble had leapt from one counter to the one nearest Noah, and knocked his beer over. The foaming liquid streamed onto the floor, and Noah and Erin froze, staring at the mess. Trouble sat licking his paw as though nothing had happened.

  "Let me," Noah said. "Paper towels?" He looked flustered, as though the spill had been his fault and not the cat's.

  Erin handed him a dishtowel and she grabbed the roll of paper towels. "Um, the bottle? Could you set it up so it doesn't spill anymore?"

  Red-faced, Noah righted the bottle, though it was nearly empty.

  They set to work together. As they wiped up the mess, Noah's T-shirt sleeves rode up his biceps, exposing colorful tattoo work. Unthinking, she touched the edge of one sleeve, lifting it the slightest. Noah startled and tipped back.

  "Oh, God. I'm sorry," Erin said. "I don't know why I did that. How embarrassing."

  Now a leg of Noah's jeans was wet as well. She was surprised when the corners of his mouth lifted with amusement. "I guess you skipped that part of the high school handbook that said it's not okay to touch somebody unless you get their permission first."

  "Seriously, I'm sorry." Erin quickly pulled another length of paper towels off the roll and pushed them at him. "Maybe this will help. You know, he's not even my cat. He's just visiting, and he's not usually so obnoxious." She gave Trouble an irritated look, but he was busily grooming his ears, ignoring her.

  "Hey, it's really no problem, Erin. Really." Noah pressed the paper towels against his jeans as she finished sopping up the floor. His smile was a little crooked, but it only made him more real, more interesting.

  She was about to ask him more about the tattoos, but shadows appeared in the doorway, drawing her attention.

  "What happened here?" Erin looked up to see her father and Sheriff Bowen, side by side. Sheriff Abel Bowen had been a friend of the Walsh family since long before she was born.

  "We had a little spill," she said.

  Noah scrambled to his feet.

  "Bruce, remember that time out at your folks' cabin when somebody decided it would be fun to flood the floor with beer and dance in it?" Sheriff Bowen's face had been serious when he entered the house, but now he smiled.

  "I do," her father said. But he was distracted, unsmiling. "I believe that somebody was you, Abel. Wasn't it?" He touched Erin on the shoulder as he walked past her. "Let's get this over with."

  Erin didn't like the look on her father's face. "Something's wrong, Dad. What is it?"

  "We'll be back in a few minutes," he said over his shoulder as several others entered the room.

  "What's going on?" There was panic in Erin's voice. Trouble rubbed his head against her arm, but she barely noticed.

  "Oh, Erin! That woman was watching the house again." Julie Berry, who’d been her mother's best friend, stood close to Erin, looking as though she were about to cry. Her deeply-tanned face was freckled like Erin's, but it was mostly from years of playing tennis and gardening. Her blond hair was that silver-ashy shade preferred by country club matrons, and her only makeup was coral lipstick that was oddly similar to Shelby Rae's. Her bright blue eyes and athletic arms and legs were her best features. Erin loved Julie out of habit. Although they no longer spent much time together, Julie still called her occasionally and made a fuss over her on her birthday. Until Erin graduated high school, they drove down to Memphis for an overnight at the Peabody every year to see the ducks and play tourist.

  "I thought that was Bryn Owens out there," Erin said. "She just sits there, staring. It's creepy, but she hasn't come to the house or anything."

  "You saw her out there? How can you not worry?" Julie touched Erin's arm. "Sometimes you're just too trusting, sweetie. What about the notes? I heard your father and the sheriff talking about some notes she left on your cars. Chief Deputy Wilkins chased her off. I think he was keeping an eye out and when he saw her he called to alert the sheriff. I don't know why your poor father's even going out there now. There's nothing to see."

  Erin glanced at Noah. Was he going to say anything about talking to Bryn? He looked past Erin as though he were trying to see beyond her father and the sheriff. Then his eyes came back to hers. No guilt. Maybe just mild curiosity. She remembered who his father was. Remembered that she probably shouldn't trust him.

  "What did you say about notes?" Erin asked. "I don't know what you mean, Julie."

  "You didn't know? They were on the windshields of your father's and Shelby Rae's cars."

  "What did they say?"

  "Were they threatening?" Noah was interested now.

  Of course he's interested now. Is he involved with Bryn?

  Julie shook her head. "I can't know everything. You know how I detest gossip. I just thought you already knew. I love you like yo
u're my own daughter, honey."

  She enveloped Erin in a tight hug, and Erin could smell her lemony verbena scent, which she always wore in summer. The hug was unnecessary, yet comforting. Erin closed her eyes.

  Just a few minutes earlier she had been having thoughts about getting close to Noah. Now she knew her whole family might be in danger. She opened her eyes to see Noah scratching an appreciative Trouble behind the ear as he watched her. Maybe there was danger there, too.

  * * *

  Noah held his mother's elbow as he walked her to her car in the field adjoining the Walshes' manicured front yard. She wasn't old or the least bit infirm, but still she leaned on him a little. He wasn't sure if she was feeling unsteady on the uneven pasture, or simply reluctant to go home. Above them, a pink and purple sunset bled slowly through the sky. He was concerned about his mother, but he half-wished he were sitting on one of the Walshes' docks watching the sunset with Erin next to him. After the scene with that witch Julie Berry in the kitchen, Erin had avoided him, and he wasn't sure why.

  "Or I could just get on a unicorn and fly home. Doesn't look like it's going to rain fairy dust anytime soon."

  "Sorry, Mom. What?" Noah realized he had no idea his mother had been speaking. "Here, be careful." He guided her around a mud-filled depression.

  She pushed him away playfully. "What's got you bothered, honey? Bruce Walsh's pretty daughter, or Bruce Walsh himself? He's a little condescending, but he's a good man. He's older, of course. Must be forty-nine or fifty. Your..." She didn't finish, but Noah knew she almost said, "your father's age."

  They were both quiet for a moment.

  "Do you want me to follow you home?" Noah was grateful she didn't bring up Erin again.

  "Stay for the fireworks. You love fireworks, and I have to get up early. It's been a long week, and tomorrow I've got an early shift." They stopped at her small Toyota. "I've really appreciated you being home as much as you have. It's been a big adjustment, but we're doing okay, aren't we?"

  "What is it Grandma used to say?" Noah rolled his eyes. "Everything's peaches and cream."

  "Ha! Maybe it is the girl then. At least she's taken your mind off other things."

  "Goodnight, Mom." He handed her the box containing the tumblers, then leaned down to kiss her cheek. "Text me when you get inside the house. I'll head home after the fireworks."

  Why the hell am I going back to the party? There's nothing for me there.

  As usual, his mother seemed to read his mind. "There's nobody who's too good for you, Noah. It doesn't matter who your father is. You did nothing. You hear me? We don't have to apologize for him. Not ever."

  His old anger at his father surfaced. "How many times did you tell me you were going to divorce him? Now you're acting like you've changed your mind. Which is it? I don't understand."

  "Let's not go through this again. Not here." She pointed to a family walking across the field of parked cars, the father carrying a sleeping child. "We had such a nice day. Please don't spoil it."

  "I'm not a kid. Don't talk to me that way."

  "You need to stop making my life hard over this." His mother's voice dropped to a whisper. "Don't carry your anger onto that motorcycle. I don't want anything to happen to you."

  Noah was pissed off, and he turned to go back to the party, the discussion unfinished. As he walked away, he hunched his shoulders. Sooner or later he would have to go home, and his father would be there, and there was nothing he could do about it. He kept his eyes mostly on the ground and gave only a terse nod to the approaching family. The woman worked part-time in the dealership’s inventory department, and she offered Noah a faint smile. But the man carrying the child gave Noah a warning look.

  Great. Just what I need. Everyone thinking, "That's Jeb Daly's son. Stay out of his way."

  Back at the party he grabbed a beer and took it out to the far dock, which was empty of people. Over the next twenty minutes, the emerging stars and deepening sky worked their magic and he relaxed. As the dock filled with his co-workers come to get a better look at the fireworks that were about to be set off from the lake’s swimming platform, he looked among them for Erin. He thought about leaving, but there was no guarantee he'd even see her again this summer. The thought made him feel oddly lonely. Besides, he knew what was waiting for him at home, and he wasn't in any rush to get there. She didn't show up on the dock.

  * * *

  By ten o’clock all the families had gathered up their beach towels and swim goggles and toys and loaded them into their cars with their tired children to go home. Only the singles and a few couples remained. The caterers had also gone, but left the outdoor kitchen island set with cookies and brownies and lemon bars, along with pitchers of iced coffee and bottles of flavoring syrup. At Bruce's urging someone had lighted a small bonfire on a sandy bank overlooking the lake. The fire was small enough that it wasn't too hot for the temperate evening, and Noah sat near it on a low camp chair, drinking coffee and talking to Saul, who detailed the cars to ready them for delivery. A faint aroma of gunpowder drifted in from the lake.

  Noah looked up at the starry sky. "Man, I could fall asleep right here, listening to the water lap, and the owls talking."

  "Tell me about it." Saul took a swig of beer. "Fiancée’s out of town. Another brew and I'd rack for sure."

  Noah put his head back, but something landed on his lap, and he sat straight up. The black cat—what was his name? Bubbles? No, Trouble—swished his tail along the underside of Noah's chin.

  Saul laughed. "Probably a barn cat or something. Just pitch it down."

  Noah knew Trouble wasn't a barn cat. Barn cats didn't jump in your lap and start rubbing against you like you were their new best friend. At least he didn't have to worry about fleas. Trouble was sleek and well-groomed.

  "Dude, what are you doing outside? The coyotes would hunt you down for fun." Noah scratched Trouble behind the ears.

  "Friend of yours?" Saul gave Noah a curious look.

  "He's probably not supposed to be out. I think Erin—" Noah stopped at the sound of Erin's name, surprising himself. "The Walshes are cat sitting him or something."

  "Keep 'em outside with a bowl of food, is what my family always did. If they wanted to eat, they either caught mice or fought to keep the raccoons off the porch."

  Holding the placid cat in one arm, Noah walked down the bank toward the house. There were still plenty of lights on inside, but he couldn’t see anyone. How late was it, anyway? He would go home as soon as he put Trouble inside. But when he touched the door handle, the door suddenly opened and he was face to face with a startled Erin. Now she wore a loose V-neck sweater that almost covered the legs of her shorts. Her hair was pulled back, too, in a low ponytail. She looked good.

  He held out Trouble to her. "He was out by the bonfire. I thought maybe he needed to come in since he's not from around here. Coyotes and stuff?"

  Erin took the cat but didn't seem exactly engaged.

  "Is something wrong?" Noah asked.

  Erin shook her head. "I don't think so. It's just that Dad can't find Shelby Rae, and he's kind of freaking out. She does this all the time, goes out and grabs a drink in town with a girlfriend. But she's not answering her phone and her car's here."

  "I could help you look for her."

  The Jack Russell terrier Noah had seen earlier, once in Shelby Rae's arms, scrabbled at Erin's feet, desperate to get outside.

  "Jocko, get back. Now!"

  The dog kept trying, so she pushed him back gently with one foot until he finally got the message.

  Erin smiled. "Sorry. Listen, you're so nice. But that's Shelby Rae. She looooooves to be unpredictable. She'll turn up. Thanks for bringing Trouble back. Bye.”

  Noah told her, “Good night.” Then she closed the door.

  He watched her through the glass as she walked through the kitchen, and dropped the cat gently to the floor. The little dog hurried ahead of them both.

  He'd wanted to ask, "When can I
see you again?" Except the words hadn't come.

  Chapter Three

  Humans can be so stubborn. You'd have to be a brainless pet like Jocko not to have noticed the attraction between Erin and that Noah Daly. I picked up on it as she observed him from the window talking to that bothersome woman in the blue car. At least I've learned who the watcher is now. I was alert to Erin's hesitation and mixed emotions. Before we left Wetumpka, Tammy Lynn told a close friend about Rita Walsh's death and the role Noah's father played in it. But as soon as I met Noah, I knew he was a decent chap and that he was perfect for Erin. He’s smitten with her, too.

  Have I mentioned yet that matchmaking is another of my prodigious skills? These two are proving to be on the difficult side. Erin and her father are worried about Jocko's human, Shelby Rae, and I knew that Noah would be just the person to help her calm down and focus on making sure all is well in that quarter. Believe me, it was not a proud moment when I threw myself in that young man's lap. The lengths I must go to in order to point out the obvious to these humans are absurd. The fact that Erin practically shut the door in his face after delivering me was mortifying. I take some solace in knowing that perhaps the stress of the situation is clouding her judgment.

  * * *

  Nighttime is my time. When Erin tells her father she's going to turn on all the outside lights and take a lantern with her to see if Shelby Rae is still on the property, he says he'll be out to help look after making a couple more calls. Erin gives me a questioning look. "Do you want to help, Trouble? Don't run off, okay?"

  I jump off the table and follow Erin and Jocko into the empty backyard.

  Jocko runs aimlessly around like the fool that he is. Jack Russells aren't exactly tracking hounds, though they are respectably good at finding vermin. (Not that I'm implying that the vivacious Shelby Rae is vermin, mind you)

  Erin and I go head toward the lake. The fishing is quite respectable here, and even though I'm not all that fond of water, I caught some nice little minnow snacks before Tammy left. Tasty, but they would have been super in a butter cream sauce. But now is not the time for snacks. Erin is worried, and I can't help but remember how upset everyone was about the woman watching the house.

 

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