Can't Find My Way Home

by Carlene Thompson

  ‘Brynn and I have been friends since we were about three years old,’ Cassie went on. ‘I’m sure you’ve heard of her wonderful books.’

  Rhonda appeared to be thinking before she said, ‘No, I haven’t, but I’m sure the books are entertaining. Hello again, Miss Wilder.’

  ‘Please call me Brynn. Cassie’s told me a lot about you.’

  ‘Oh, really?’

  ‘I mean that you’re a great employee. A master salesperson, wonderful at organization, a real asset to Love’s …’ Brynn ran down. Rhonda raised an eyebrow. ‘She values your work.’

  ‘I’m glad. Is that why you wanted to talk to me?’

  ‘Well, no. Of course not. I wanted to talk to you about something in particular.’

  ‘I think I’ll see how things are going in the showroom,’ Cassie said hastily.

  Rhonda still stood, gazing at Brynn without blinking. ‘Please have a seat, Rhonda. This might take a few minutes.’ The woman crossed the small room, sat down gracefully in Cassie’s desk chair, crossed her long legs and folded her slender, manicured hands in her lap. ‘I want to talk about … well … a quarrel you had with a man at Cloud Nine last week.’ Rhonda’s expression didn’t change, but her eyelids fluttered. ‘That man was my brother, Mark.’

  ‘Yes, I know. Mark Wilder, the son of Jonah Wilder.’

  The son of Jonah Wilder. Just the way Rhonda emphasized Mark’s identity angered Brynn, although she’d been certain the argument had been to do with her father. Still, she sensed the woman sitting calmly in front of her wouldn’t respond to a demand for information. She had to tread carefully.

  ‘May I ask what you and Mark quarreled about?’ she asked, thinking she sounded stiff and old-fashioned but polite.

  ‘Who said we had a quarrel?’ Rhonda was subtly making fun of Brynn’s choice of words, amping up Brynn’s antagonism. Brynn tried to keep her voice neutral.

  ‘You were on the patio of a crowded restaurant. Quite a few people saw and heard you, Rhonda. You know how word travels in this town.’

  Rhonda gave her another long, steady look, as if sizing her up. Brynn fought the impulse to shift positions or smile, something to break the tension. Finally, Rhonda began slowly and distinctly. ‘I had a cousin named Frankie Gaines. My aunt Miranda didn’t have him until she was forty-five. He was her only child. She worshipped him. I was like his big sister. My mother was single and we spent every holiday and most of every summer here in Genessa Point with my aunt and uncle and Frankie. Twenty years ago, when Frankie was eight, the Genessa Point Killer murdered him. My uncle had a fatal heart attack after the police found Frankie’s body.’

  After a short pause, Brynn said softly, ‘I’m very sorry, Rhonda.’

  ‘Aunt Miranda still lives here. She was never the same after her husband’s and son’s deaths, though. She’s in her seventies, frail and sickly,’ Rhonda continued in a monotone. ‘Mark Wilder had the nerve to come back to this town, still banging away at clearing his father’s name. He went to see Miranda. She called my apartment when I got home from work. She was terribly upset. The next day, I saw him at Cloud Nine and told him I wouldn’t stand for him harassing my aunt. I told him I would have Garrett Dane, our sheriff and my lover, run him out of town.’

  ‘You’re sure he tried to talk to your aunt?’

  ‘Of course I’m sure and I knew he wouldn’t stop. I know he’s your brother, Lynn, but I also know he was his father’s partner in the killings, or it’s possible he might have murdered Frankie all by himself. Garrett thinks so, too. Mark knew I saw right through him and that I would not let him hurt anyone else, certainly not my aunt! Afterward, I left him to think long and hard about everything I’d said.’ Rhonda paused. ‘Does that answer your question, Lynn?’

  ‘It’s Brynn,’ she hissed as red hot fury erupted in her. She could barely stop herself from lunging across the room and grabbing Rhonda’s long, slender neck. Which is exactly what people would expect from the daughter of Stone Jonah Wilder, Brynn thought. Instead she stiffened, holding herself as rigid as possible, and tried to push down her volcanic anger. Still, it took nearly fifteen seconds before she could speak with near-calm.

  ‘That was an extremely succinct account, Rhonda. It sounded almost rehearsed.’

  ‘I’ve been through the story before. With Garrett. Sheriff Dane.’

  ‘I know who Garrett is. I’ve known him since he was twelve,’ Brynn snapped. ‘What was his reaction?’

  ‘He’s always concerned about keeping peace in town. However, he was more concerned about me.’

  ‘He wasn’t mad at you?’

  ‘Mad that I’d had the nerve to confront Mark Wilder? No. He was just—’

  ‘Concerned about you. So you said. Did you tell Mark you’d make him pay?’

  Rhonda raised her thin, penciled eyebrows. ‘I don’t remember. I was furious. Maybe I did. Probably not.’ She uncrossed her legs and her expression hardened. ‘I don’t have any more to tell you about my encounter with Mark. I haven’t seen him since that day.’

  ‘And he didn’t try to see your aunt again?’

  ‘No. I’ve heard he’s disappeared.’ She shrugged. ‘Good riddance.’ Rhonda stood up. ‘I really have a lot of work to do unless I want to stay past closing time, which I don’t. I have a date.’

  As she walked out the door, Brynn restrained herself. She wouldn’t let the woman goad her into a nasty retort, although a dozen flashed through her mind. Of all the nerve, the insolence, the gall! She should tell Cassie, but Brynn wouldn’t put her friend in the position of possibly firing her best employee. Besides, the idea that she’d needled Brynn into ‘tattling’ to Cassie would just be another triumph for Rhonda.

  So, enraged as she was, Brynn merely sat still, replaying Rhonda’s conversation. Was she lying? Had she really said all of those things to Mark? Had she accused him of killing her little cousin, Frankie? Had she threatened him and told him she’d make him pay? Brynn didn’t think Mindy had lied – and if she’d been serious about making Mark pay, of seeking retribution, just how did she intend to do it?

  Also, Brynn couldn’t stop herself from wondering whether, as of last week, Garrett Dane had still been this chilly, unnervingly composed woman’s lover.

  ‘Going out for lunch today, Sheriff?’

  Garrett Dane looked at the eager new deputy standing near the front doors of headquarters. ‘Yeah. Lunch will be short, though. I’ve got a lot of work.’ Garrett decided he really needed to get out of this building and clear his head. He couldn’t remember the guy’s name. ‘How’s it going?’

  ‘Fine, sir. Just fine.’

  ‘Good.’ Garrett searched for something else to say. ‘Glad to hear it.’

  As he walked down the steps to the sidewalk, Garrett drew a deep breath. The air felt especially clean and refreshing. Either that, he decided, or he was spacey from lack of sleep and growing uneasiness about Rhonda. At midnight, she’d called him on his cell phone, counting on privacy from Savannah, whom she seemed to blame for what she termed their ‘breakup.’ She always acted as if they’d had a long and loving relationship instead of a four-month affair that, for Garrett, had nothing to do with love. Attraction, yes. Passion, yes. Love, no.

  Often he told himself he shouldn’t feel guilty about Rhonda. He’d never said he loved her. He’d never hinted at a future together. He’d spent so little time with her he could remember every date – three movies, two dinners in nice restaurants, a birthday party Savannah and Grams had planned for him, the wedding of a friend, three home-cooked meals at her house. Four of those dates had been followed by an hour or two of lovemaking. Although at first the sex had been pleasurable, the last two times he’d left her house feeling as if ivy were twining around him, tying him to her, trying to pull him back. The illusion was right out of a fairytale book that had belonged to a young Savannah, but he couldn’t shake it. That’s when he’d begun trying to put distance between them.

  In May, when Savannah’s great-
grandmother died, Rhonda had forced herself deep into his world, trying to plan the funeral, prying into details about the dispensation of the estate, exerting authority over Savannah as if she were Garrett’s wife. That’s when he knew he’d let their ‘relationship’ go on too long. He hadn’t meant for it to happen; he hadn’t fully realized it was happening, but in Rhonda’s mind, he was hers. Even worse, her possessiveness of him caused her to resent Savannah. At first she’d tried to hide it, but toward the end it grew more evident every day.

  A week after the funeral, he’d given Rhonda a kind but firm goodbye. She’d turned to stone when he said he’d decided they weren’t right for each other, which, at the time, he’d thought was good. Only two weeks later, he’d realized that stoniness had been a sign of her unrelenting resolve that he would be hers, body, soul and wedding.

  Garrett felt guilty. Certainly he’d done something to make Rhonda behave the way she had at the end, the way she was acting now. She managed to run into him at least three times a week. She called his home in the evenings and talked, argued and pleaded until he finally told her goodnight and unplugged the landline phones in the house so Savannah could sleep. Then he’d gotten an unlisted number for their home phone.

  Until last week, Rhonda hadn’t known his cell phone number. She’d managed to find it out, though, and she’d called four times in the past five days. And now she’d finally called headquarters. Less than an hour ago, she’d phoned to report that Brynn Wilder had ambushed her at work and grilled her ‘unmercifully’ about Mark. When Garrett had cut off her rant by hanging up, he’d rushed from the building, as if being outdoors could quiet his growing uneasiness. God, he was beginning to feel like the guy in Fatal Attraction, he thought in despair.

  He headed to Savannah’s temporary place of employment. About thirty feet ahead a big red and white umbrella shaded a large aluminum portable hot dog cart. A cluster of people dressed in vivid summer wear stood in two lines, some of the younger children laughing and roughhousing until called down by their parents. Garrett took his place in Savannah’s line, watching his daughter work even more efficiently than Mrs Elbert yet never forgetting to smile at the customers.

  Finally his turn came. ‘Hello, madam. I’ll take two of your finest hot dogs.’

  Savannah glanced up and laughed. ‘Dad! I didn’t even really look at you!’

  ‘I’m just another face in the crowd, huh? And after all the years I’ve devoted to you – changing diapers, calming temper tantrums, putting Band-Aids on skinned knees—’

  ‘Enough!’ Savannah giggled. ‘You said you want two hot dogs?’

  ‘No breakfast. I was running late.’

  Savannah lowered her voice. ‘That’s because you spent half the night on the phone with Rhonda.’

  Garrett’s expression grew serious. ‘Were you eavesdropping?’

  ‘No! I’d never do that. You got kinda loud a couple of times.’ Savannah’s beautiful blue eyes lowered. ‘What toppings do you want?’

  ‘Ummm, ketchup and relish. No onions. And a large Coke.’ While Savannah went to work, Garrett looked down at Henry, who sat obediently by her side, panting. ‘You brought Henry?’

  ‘Did you expect me to desert him?’ she asked, appalled, as if he’d suggested leaving a two-year-old child home alone.

  ‘I’m sorry. I forget what a protective mother you are,’ Garrett said dryly. He paid for his hot dogs and then gave the real canine a last glance. ‘Honey, I think Henry could use a walk and I could use some company. How about letting me take him across the street to the park? I’ll sit on a bench and he can wander around, sniff everything, confide secrets to me.’

  Savannah grinned. ‘I think he’d like that.’ She put the hot dogs and drink in a box. ‘And I hope you like your hot dogs, sir.’

  ‘I’m sure I will.’ He balanced his lunch in one hand and took Henry’s leash in the other. ‘We both promise to behave.’

  ‘You’d better. I have connections in the police department,’ Savannah told him ominously.

  In Holly Park, Garrett let Henry lead for a few minutes before he sat down on a bench, holding his hot dogs absently as his thoughts took a dismal turn. So, last night his precious daughter had overheard him talking to – maybe shouting at – Rhonda after midnight. She’d sounded slightly drunk at first, then become increasingly loud and irrational until he’d hung up on her. He didn’t remember her having more than a glass of wine when they’d first begun seeing each other. When had things changed? He couldn’t remember. He’d liked her at first and even thought maybe there was potential for a romance. Then she’d slowly become possessive, demanding and erratic. They’d been apart for weeks but she still called his home. What next? He regretted ever dating – even meeting – Rhonda Sanford.

  ‘You look like you’ve got the weight of the world on your shoulders, Sheriff.’

  Garrett looked up to see Nathan Cavanaugh, smiling, slim, tanned and still boyishly handsome at thirty-five. ‘Nathan! I haven’t seen you for over a year.’

  ‘Would I miss the One-Hundred-and-Fiftieth Festival? My sister would have killed me.’

  ‘Have a seat. Want one of my hot dogs?’

  ‘I’m meeting Tessa for lunch. I wanted to take her to a restaurant, but she tells me she always make sandwiches and eats here in the park. She’s bringing enough for two.’ He made a face. ‘That means two cold sandwiches, two apple juice boxes and, if I’m lucky, an extra Twinkie.’

  ‘When did you get here?’

  ‘Last night. I’ve been in Rio de Janeiro the past few weeks.’

  ‘You poor guy. Must be hell developing software and hardware technologies for maritime training systems, traveling all over the world teaching your brilliant inventions. Did I get that right?’

  ‘Partly. My systems are brilliant. But I don’t get to go all over the world. Only the places with major shipping ports.’

  ‘Sounds like a snooze to an exciting guy like me.’

  Nathan grinned. ‘So how’s life as the sheriff of Genessa Point?’

  ‘Non-stop action. Danger every day. They should make a TV show about my life.’

  Nathan burst into laughter. ‘Your sense of humor often went unappreciated back in the day, Garrett. However, I have a feeling you’re not as bored as you pretend. You wouldn’t want to live my life and also bring up a twelve-year-old girl.’

  ‘She’s thirteen. And you’re right. Savannah and I have a good life here – quiet, but good.’

  ‘Anyone special in your good life besides Savannah?’

  Oh yeah, Garrett thought. Rhonda Sanford. What more could a man want? ‘’Fraid not, Nate. Not a lot of single women around here.’

  ‘There’s always my sister.’

  Garrett searched wildly for something appropriate to say until Nathan reached out and nudged his arm.

  ‘Don’t look so scared of saying the wrong thing! I’m kidding,’ Nathan laughed. ‘I love Tessa, but I know she’s an acquired taste.’

  Garrett relaxed, trying for a natural smile. ‘How is she these days?’

  ‘About the same as always.’ Nathan’s laughter died and he gazed into the distance. ‘Since she was a little kid, she was never like other girls. Really shy, overly sensitive, always living in her head. She didn’t have any close friends – didn’t seem to want any. She was happy with solitary stuff like reading and puzzles.’ His mood changed and he suddenly laughed. ‘God, I thought she’d drive us nuts with those huge jigsaw puzzles – you know, the kind that have a thousand pieces and take up a whole tabletop. Then she got interested in photography and we were all relieved. But after Jonah Wilder …’ Nathan suddenly looked uneasy. ‘Well, she was never the same. She started acting really different than other girls. She’s not crazy like a lot of people think,’ he clarified immediately. ‘She’s just … different.’

  ‘Well, that’s understandable,’ Garrett said mildly. He knew he should say more, but once again, he found himself short on words. To his relief, Nathan smi
led and said, ‘Speaking of Tessa, here she comes with our gourmet lunch.’

  Tessa moved in her usual slow, slightly aimless way across the park until she spotted them and almost stopped, looking uncertain. ‘Look who I’ve found, Tess,’ Nathan called. ‘The sheriff is going to share lunch with us.’

  ‘Oh,’ she said doubtfully, drawing nearer. ‘I’m not sure I brought enough for three.’

  ‘I already have my lunch,’ Garrett said, holding up a hot dog. ‘Courtesy of my daughter. She’s working at the hot dog stand across the street.’

  ‘Savannah. She’s a lovely girl – careful with the books, and so quiet in the library.’ Only Tessa Cavanaugh could make ‘quiet in the library’ a compliment, Garrett thought. She sat down cross-legged on the ground in front of him and Nathan, spreading her full skirt carefully over her legs. ‘I see you’ve brought her dog with you. Harry, is it?’

  ‘Henry. Savannah named him for her maternal great-grandfather.’

  ‘I hope he appreciated the honor,’ Nathan laughed as he petted the dog.

  ‘He did,’ Garrett smiled. ‘He’s dead now.’

  ‘What a shame. And your father?’ Tessa asked. ‘Wasn’t his name William?’

  ‘Yes. William Bale Dane,’ Garrett said flatly. ‘He’s dead, too.’

  Tessa gave him a tremulous smile. ‘He was good to me after the … accident in the woods.’ She blushed and said quickly, ‘I’m sure Savannah loved him.’

  ‘She didn’t know my father.’ Thank God, Garrett thought, remembering his frustrated, lightning-tempered father. He wouldn’t have wanted Savannah to know him. ‘He died before she was born.’

  ‘What a shame,’ Tessa mourned as she pulled sandwiches from a paper sack. She glanced at Henry, then handed a foil-wrapped antiseptic towelette to Nathan, who rolled his eyes at Garrett as he obliged. Henry then nosed at Tessa, who cringed away from him.

  ‘Back, Henry,’ Garrett said. ‘Not everyone loves dogs.’

  ‘Oh, I like dogs,’ Tessa said solemnly. ‘I’m just a little bit afraid of big dogs, even if they seem well-mannered.’ She brushed crumbs from her old-fashioned pink gingham dress with a slightly scooped neck. The sun that turned her brother’s hair golden emphasized the gray in her own. Her lackluster, dull blonde hair was pulled back, as always, with a ribbon. Her skin looked pale and dry, the light shone harshly on the narrow scar running from the top of her ear down her neck and collarbone and her sparse blonde lashes were untouched by mascara. The years had blessed Nathan but not Tessa. She glanced at Garrett with candid blue eyes. ‘Is something wrong?’