by Susanne Beck
I could almost feel the internal debate that was raging inside Millicent. Her eyes seemed far away as she nervously chewed on her bottom lip. Then she looked up, her eyes filled with something I’d never seen in them before: trepidation. "Have you ever done something like that?" she asked finally.
Corinne grinned. "I’m here, aren’t I?"
Millicent’s entire body relaxed with the statement and a huge smile of relief came over her face, making her look, for just a second, mildly attractive. Still, she didn’t spill the beans, and so Corinne decided to nudge the boat just a little. "Surely there is someone in this tiny little town who detests the man as much as you do. There simply must be. Towns this size have entire graveyards of skeletons hanging in closets and a veritable mountain of rocks waiting to be turned over."
"Oh no, not here. Believe me, I’ve looked." Then she stopped, aware that she’d just given much too much away. She looked at me, then over to Corinne.
"Don’t worry about Tyler, Millicent. She’s learned her lessons well. Haven’t you, Tyler."
I contrived to look the part of the successfully reprogrammed. "Yes, Ma’am," I replied, twisting my hands a little and lowering my eyes for good measure.
Millicent seemed satisfied with the gesture. "I have been speaking with a few good gentlemen outside of this town, however. Men with a some bones to pick with a certain Mr. Willamette. Large bones. Old bones."
"And are they willing to help you with your problem?"
Millicent’s answering smile was coy. "Oh, they already have. Accidents have a way of happening, you know. Quite without warning. His place is a deathtrap anyway."
Corinne nodded sagely. "And has this helped any?"
"It’s much too soon to tell, of course. I’m confident that it will, eventually. I want this badly, and I always get what I want. Always."
"I can see that you are a person who does, yes."
Then, like a message from Providence, the phone rang, and Millicent heaved herself up to her feet to answer it.
A long, meaningful look passed between Corinne and I. We’d come for answers, and we’d gotten them. In spades.
Neither of us was sad to see the conversation come to an end when Millicent rushed back into the room, her face flushed with some unidentifiable emotion, and tell us that an emergency had occurred and she needed to be elsewhere.
We excused ourselves gracefully and left, filled with a knowledge neither of us particularly wanted to have.
It made for an interesting walk home.
* * *
"You wanted proof? Now you’ve got it. Question is, what are you going to do with it?" Corinne sat back in her chair, fingers running relentlessly over the polished wood of the dining room table, and pinning Pop to his seat with her eyes.
He seemed to shrink a little before coming back into himself and mirroring her position in his own chair. "Don’t know yet. Didn’t expect you to come up with it quite so fast."
She smiled. "That’s just because you don’t know me well enough. You’re not the only person in this little town who can get what he wants, when he wants it."
"S’ppose you’re right." He lapsed into silence once again.
"Well?"
"Corinne ... ." I interjected softly, reaching across the table to lay a hand on her constantly moving wrist.
Turning her head, she shot me the same look she was using on Pop, but when I didn’t shrink from it, she gradually relaxed and huffed out a dramatic sigh. "Fine. If he doesn’t want to act on the information, there’s not much more I can do, is there."
"Didn’t say I wasn’t gonna act on it, Corinne. Only that ya didn’t give me any time to think on it."
She turned back to him. "Time? Dear god, man! You’ve had time to think about this since Millicent sent over those thugs to beat you within an inch of your life!"
"Now don’t go sayin that, Corinne. No one knows for sure she was behind what happened there. Them guys are scum, pure and simple. No needin’ to think any harder on that."
Corinne slowly shook her head, disbelief plain as day on her face. "For a man who supposedly knows it all, you’re painfully naïve at times, Willamette."
Pop narrowed his eyes at her. "What’re you sayin, woman?"
"Just what it sounds like. I find it hard to believe that you don’t know that that pump jockey Millicent’s been seen around just happens to be the brother-in-law of the owner of the Rusted Nut. From what I’ve heard, those two men are thick as thieves."
"I knew that."
"You knew that and ...what? You put two and two together and came up with seventeen? Twenty? What?"
I tried again, alarmed at the plum cast that was taking over Corinne’s face. "Corinne, please calm down, ok? This isn’t getting us anywhere."
She looked from me, to Pop, and back again. Then she pushed herself up from the table. "I need some air."
And with that, she left.
I began to stand up to follow her, when a slow shake of Ice’s head sat me right back down again. Sighing myself, I looked around the table. Pop, Ice and I weren’t the only ones who had been treated to Corinne’s somewhat uncharacteristic outburst. Tom Drew and Mary Lynch had both come calling, curious as to what had gone on behind Millicent’s closed doors earlier in the afternoon. Because they were both on the front lines, so to speak, by virtue of their professions and the work they were doing on the Inn, they’d both been invited to the impromptu strategy session.
"Why don’t we just call the police?" Mary said, logically. I couldn’t help my heart rate as it sped up at the mention of that particular word. I looked over at Ice, who returned my look steadily. "I mean, if we spelled it out for them, with Corinne telling what she knew, wouldn’t they at least investigate?"
Pop shook his head. "No. No cops. I’ve had my fair share of dealins with them in the past and I don’t want em in here, investigatin all over everything. Cause more trouble than it’s worth, getting them involved."
"But ... ."
"No cops. I ain’t gonna say it again."
Tom Drew spoke up next. "Well, if you won’t let us beat her up or burn her down, why don’t we just squeeze her out? She won’t be able to run that Inn without us there, fixing what breaks."
"Sure she will," Pop said. "She’ll just call fer help up-country, like she been doin’ all along. Then we’ll have even more strangers tied up in this mess."
"But ... ."
"He’s right," Ice commented softly, speaking for the first time since the meeting started. "If you try to shut her down by withholding needed services, she’ll only go somewhere else for them and you’ll lose the only excuse you have to keep an eye on her from up close."
"Then what do we do?" Mary asked her.
The entire table looked at Ice. Myself included. Even without knowing anything of her past, all you had to do was stand in her presence for more than a second to know, with absolute certainty, that this was a woman who got things done. A woman who had the answers, even if you didn’t want to hear them. Even if you didn’t know what the question was to begin with.
She met each of our gazes in turn, long fingers trailing over the tabletop. After a long moment, she spoke. "If it were up to me, I’d teach Millicent Harding Post exactly what it means to mess with one of my friends." Her voice got that dark and dangerous edge that never failed to raise the hairs on the back of my neck. I could see the same reaction in my friends around the table as well. "But it isn’t up to me. It’s up to Pop. And until he can’t speak for himself anymore, I, for one, am gonna abide by what he says." Then she met Pop’s gaze squarely, her expression unmistakable. "For now."
Nodding his understanding, Pop turned to look at the rest of us. "Look. I didn’t say I was rulin out any one of your ideas. Just need some time ta think on ‘em is all. Things ain’t the way they used ta be when I was some younger." He paused for a very long stretch of time, then continued, his gaze fixed on the table. "I killed a man once. I killed men in the War, yeah, but this was
the first one I did just ‘cause I was angry. The first one I looked in the eyes when I done it." He shook his head, his eyes long ago and far away.
"He was thinkin’ ta force his attentions on Maggie, my wife. And when he wouldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer, he said he’d show ‘er." He laughed. "Well, I showed him. I showed ‘im just what it means to a man ta see his wife in danger. Bout damn near ripped his head of his shoulders. I meant ta kill him, and that’s just what I did."
When he looked up again, his eyes were ancient seers of a distant past. "Learned a lot about myself between then and now. And one of the things I learned is that I c’n take a lot more when it’s comin at me than when it’s comin’ at someone I care about. So all I can ask of ya is ta let me do some thinkin. She ain’t goin nowhere, an neither am I. Deal?"
Nods around the table.
He nodded right back. "Alright then. Guess it’s about time we busted up this little shindig. Tomorrow’s chores ain’t gonna wait for us."
And that ended the meeting. Chairs scraped against the wooden floor as seats were pushed out and people rose to their feet, stretching out weary bodies. There was very little talk as our guests excused themselves and walked out into the cool darkness of the late spring night. As I waved to them, I searched the darkness for a glimpse of Corinne, but she was nowhere within my sight.
Ice came up behind me and laid a hand on my shoulder. "Go ahead and hunt her down. She’s probably by the water. I’ll stay here and clean up."
"Are you sure? I could ... ."
"Nah. G’wan down. I think she needs someone to talk to, and you’re better at that than I am."
Grinning, I squeezed the hand that still lay on my shoulder. "I dunno. You seem to be softening up just a little in your advancing years." Then winced as the hand became a vice on my flesh, fingers digging in just enough to give me a glimpse of the somewhat astounding physical strength I knew was there but didn’t always see. "Uncle!" I cried, though she wasn’t hurting me.
The grip relaxed, but didn’t release, and the next thing I knew, I was being spun around, held firmly, and kissed so soundly that the room around me also began to spin.
And then I was alone as my lover retreated back within the depths of the cabin.
Ice soft?
Never in a million years.
* * *
Corinne was exactly where Ice had said she would be. Sitting on the dock, her back propped against one of the tall wooden supports, staring out over the night-dark water. It was still a little too early in the season for the frogs to be singing chorus, and the only sounds were the gentle lapping of waves against the wood of the dock and the gentle, but somehow mournful, wind as it blew through the pines and sent ropes hitting against aluminum boat masts.
What little moon there was highlighted the silver in her hair. She turned slightly as she heard me coming and gave me a wan little smile, suddenly looking far older than her stated age. My heart squeezed a little at that. It hurt to see her looking frail, this strong woman I so loved.
"Did Ice send you out to find me?"
Smiling, I walked out onto the dock and lowered myself to sit cross-legged next to her. "Nah. She just gave me a likely starting point. I came here on my own." I laid a hand on her arm. "Did the fresh air help?"
"Not as much as you might think."
"I’m sorry, Corinne."
"Nothing to be sorry for, Angel. I don’t normally lose my temper like that, as you well know." She turned her head to look over the water again. "I was incarcerated for so long that I think I forgot what it was like to fight for justice on the outside." Her voice was soft, and a touch sad. "In prison, meting out justice was a simple thing. Do unto others. And if that doing got you some time in solitary, well, that was only the accepted manner of things. Out here," she held out an arm, encompassing everything, "things aren’t so simply undertaken. Meetings by committee. Democracy. Strategy sessions." She laughed, softly. "Sometimes I wonder whether I wasn’t happier in the Bog."
She must have felt my reaction to that statement, because she turned to me and held my face in her hands. "I didn’t mean that the way it sounded, Angel. I love you. I love Ice. And I love the life you’re allowing me to share with the two of you." She smiled. "Don’t be bothered by the crazed ramblings of an old woman. We’re not known for making sense in the best of times."
Returning her gentle smile, I caressed the backs of her hands with my own. "I love you Corinne. We both do. You’ve made such a difference in our lives and I don’t know what either one of us would have done without you. So please don’t put yourself down or call yourself old and crazy. To me, you’ll always be one of the most wonderful women I’ve ever known. Bad temper and all."
Leaning in, she kissed me softly on the lips, then pulled away, smiling. "If Ice didn’t already have your heart, Angel ... ."
Not letting her get away with it, I pulled her into a tight hug and kissed a still-smooth cheek. Then, releasing her, I stood up. "You gonna come back to the house?"
"In a bit. It’s a nice night out. I think I’ll watch the water and do some thinking."
"Alright. Goodnight, Corinne."
"Goodnight, sweet Angel. Sleep well."
"You too."
* * *
On my way back to the cabin, I could hear the soft, soothing strains of music as it filtered through the speakers Ice had set up outside the house. Which was at definite odds with the sounds of flesh hitting canvas and a chain squealing out its anger over the abuse.
Rounding the corner, I took in the sight of Ice working off the day’s frustrations on the heavy-bag which hung from beneath the roof. She had on a pair of gray shorts which clung to her body like a snake’s second skin and a matching sweatshirt cut off at the midriff and shoulders, displaying her sculpted body wonderfully to my appreciative eyes.
Her movements were tight, precise, controlled, yet also had an almost balletic, wild and free air to them, somewhat akin to a big cat’s stealthy stalking of a potential meal.
A quick double-kick, first low, then almost impossibly high, was immediately followed by a fist, and then an elbow to the middle of the canvas bag, rocking it wildly on its chain anchor.
A spinning kick, a flurry of punches too quick and too numerous to count, and a final thundering kick that almost blew the cabin off its foundation, and she came to absolute stillness, her body covered with a fine sheen of sweat, but her lungs heaving not at all.
Opening her eyes, she saw me and smiled, then reached down and grabbed a towel that was lying on the ground beyond my sight, wiping her face and neck with it. "Corinne alright?"
"Yeah," I replied, coming closer and feeling the charged energy still flowing through her. "She’s still a little upset, and maybe a little confused, but she’s calmed down a lot from earlier. She’s gonna be fine."
"Good to hear." Putting the towel back down, she lowered herself to the ground and leaned back against the house, closing her eyes again and tilting her head, allowing the gentle breeze to dry the sweat from her body.
I sat down next to her, close, so that our shoulders were just touching and enjoyed the quiet spring evening.
"Ice?"
"Mm?"
"Can I ask you a question?"
"Sure."
"Are you happy?"
Blue eyes opened and she turned her head toward me, surprise written clearly on her features. "What brought that on?"
"I don’t know, really. I’ve been meaning to ask you for awhile now, but things just keep coming up and it gets shuffled back behind other stuff. But I want to know. Are you?" I swallowed. "Happy, I mean?"
Turning away and once again resting her head against the foundation, she was silent for a long moment before she finally spoke. "For a very long time, Angel, I would have told you that I didn’t even know what the meaning of that word was."
"Not even when you were young? With your parents?"
"When I was young, yes, I remember being happy. But those memories are
faded; almost as if that happiness belonged to another person entirely and I was simply hearing their story. And then, after the killings and my incarceration, I didn’t feel anything at all."
"And after prison? When you had a family again?"
"The Briacci’s were very good to me. They treated me as a member of their own family, it’s true. But by then, given everything that had happened before, any thoughts of happiness had already been pretty much burned out of me. Oh, I could still feel. Satisfaction, mostly. Pride in my work and my abilities. Anger. Rage."
"How about with your lovers?" I couldn’t help smiling, though I know she couldn’t see me. "You said you had a few."
She laughed softly. "Oh, I had more than a few, Angel. But I wasn’t with them for happiness. Physical release, yes. Not happiness."
"Not even with Donita?"
"No. Though she lasted the longest of any of them. We were much too different, and the life I lived with her was based on a lie. She never knew, until the end, exactly what I did for a living. And when she found out, she was very hurt."
"But she still cared enough for you to want to defend you in court."
Ice nodded slowly, her eyes still closed. "Yes. And I cared enough for her not to let her."
Which meant that Ice cared for her a great deal indeed. My estimation of the beautiful lawyer, already impossibly high, went up another few notches.
"And after?" I asked, surprised at how small my voice sounded.
She smiled then, a grudging one that battled hard for its right to take its place on her lips. "I met you," she said simply. "And everything changed."
"How did it change?" I asked, honestly curious. We had never really spoken of this. I knew Ice’s feelings, her love for me, ran very deep. But how they came to be, I had really no idea. At least, not one that could be confirmed. Or denied.
"It’s hard to put into words," she replied after a moment. She still had her eyes closed, her face turned partially away, and so was even harder to read than normal. "It was as if, in looking at you, I was given a window through which to see something I didn’t think I needed anymore. Goodness. Innocence. A kind of strength that comes from giving and not taking. I felt myself attracted to it even though, deep inside myself, I didn’t want to be. Overcoming that part of myself, the one that wanted to keep things as they were, was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done." She sighed. "I still struggle with it. Every day. But I do know this."
