Still Life in Shadows

by Alice J. Wisler

  Ashlyn said that she did.

  “Can you put me in the paper?”

  Lightly, Ashlyn said, “Why do you want to be in the paper? For bringing donuts to us?”

  Moriah laughed. “Even better than that! Put me in there for a good reason.”

  Reaching for another donut, Luke said, “What good are you going to do so you can get in the Twin Star?”

  Moriah thought as he took another drink of water. “Something noteworthy. Something grand.” Smiling at Kiki, he said, “Just watch. I’ll do something to get in there.”

  Gideon came out of his office after that. Kiki thought he might order everyone back to work, but he didn’t. He accepted Moriah’s bear hug, laughed, and also accepted the last donut in the box. He didn’t seem to mind that it was only an Old Fashioned.

  17

  Kiki drove her bike home in a fury. What was his problem talking to her like that? She’d done him a favor and yesterday he was rude to her. Then he was all nice, buying donuts for everyone. Well, that didn’t last, thought Kiki. This very afternoon he was back to being rude, telling her to not talk so loudly and ask him so many questions. She’d only wanted to know what became of the item she’d carefully stored for him. Why couldn’t he answer that question? Instead, he told her he needed her to take care of another package that was to come by. Then he’d left the shop and when he returned an hour later, he demanded that she tell him where the item was.

  “No one dropped anything off for you,” she’d said as she washed her hands.

  “What do you mean?” The veins in his neck pulsed like angry ripples in a gushing stream. “I told you that someone was coming by.”

  “No one came by. No one did,” she’d said as he groaned.

  “Forget it then!” And with that, he cursed her and once again, left the repair shop.

  Don’t be rude, Kiki, Mari often told her. Be polite. Well, Mari needed to tell that to Moriah, because he certainly was lacking manners. “He’s a retard,” Kiki muttered, knowing that was a hateful word and she loathed it when anyone called her that. “No, he’s crazy. He’s no good.”

  The air was cool now and daylight, fading. Kiki was grateful to see her driveway and eager to get inside her house and make a cup of cocoa. She put her bike in the garage, then climbed the front porch steps and realized she didn’t want cocoa, she wanted to sit and stew some more. Sit and stew, that’s what Mama said Kiki did when she was upset. “Are you going to sit and stew? I’ll leave you alone to sit and stew.”

  Kiki plopped down on the top step and put her head between her hands. “You are a moron, Moriah!” she shouted. Why, oh, why did this day have to be such a bad one? When am I going to have a good day?

  Just then Angie stepped from the shadows over by her grandmother Luva’s house and made her way to Kiki’s front lawn. “Hi,” she said. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing … Everything.”

  “Are you mad at someone or something?”

  “He thinks he can do whatever he pleases.”

  Angie continued to stand in front of her, so Kiki, enjoying an audience, continued, “He’s a no-good loser!” Spouting the line made her feel powerful. “He’s not so great!”

  “Who are you talking about?” asked Angie. She made a face like she thought Kiki was crazy.

  Kiki took a breath, realizing she had not shared Moriah’s name. Dare she tell Angie who she was talking about? What if Angie laughed at her? “Moriah,” she said and waited for Angie’s response. When there was none, she added, “He flirts with all the girls. I mean every single one of them.”

  Angie nodded and let a smile slip between her lips. “I’ve seen him. He is really cute.”

  Why did Angie have to say that? Kiki wished Moriah wasn’t good-looking. Hotly, she shouted, “He is a big fat loser and he thinks he’s all that and a bag of chips.” She yelled to shut out the music from her heart that repeated like a soft refrain, I wish he liked me. I wish he liked me.

  “What did he do to you?”

  “He asked me to take care of a package for him. And I did. And he never even thanked me.” She was on a roll. Without taking a breath, she continued. “And then, he bought us donuts and acted all happy and laughing with everyone, but today he was back to being mean again.”

  “Guys,” said Angie, disgust lining her face. “They are such problems.” She made her way up to the top step and sat next to Kiki. “Don’t let it get to you.”

  Kiki nodded. Having Angie seated beside her was strangely nice. But it didn’t last long, because as usual, Angie said she had to go.

  Kiki watched the girl walk toward her grandmother Luva’s house. When Angie was out of sight, Kiki ambled inside to her bedroom. Her arrowhead collection was scattered on her dresser. She wished again that she had a cool box like the one at work to store them in. In the living room, she flicked on the TV to the animal show. She saw a commercial for dog food, a flashy boxer eagerly eating from a stainless steel bowl. Why couldn’t I have a pet like that? She knew dogs made great and loyal companions. There was Lassie and Skip and that movie called Beethoven. If I had a dog, I’d take good care of it.

  Wishing, she was always wishing. One day, she’d told Dr. Conner she wanted something grand to happen to her so that she didn’t have to keep wishing her life away. He’d said that she could have good things happen to her. She just had to be patient.

  18

  Gideon was relieved that Amos seemed to be fitting in well at Another Cup. The two had agreed that Amos would pay off the rent he owed Gideon for his first month, and then lease the apartment under his name so that Gideon was not responsible for the payment. Amos seemed lighthearted again, the same boy who had stepped off of Bruce’s truck, only a little more familiar with the ways of the real world and much more confident. “I think of home,” he told Luke, Moriah, and Gideon one night when Gideon had them over for a dinner of beef stroganoff and seasoned carrots. “But then I think of now, this experience, and I don’t want to trade it for anything.”

  Moriah smiled. “Well,” he said as he lifted a glass of sweet tea. “I’d like to work at Another Cup, too. You’ve got great scenery there. The owner is a doll.”

  Gideon gulped. His brother’s freedom to flirt around women was starting to bother him. What had living in Florida taught him? Had he taken some course on picking up women? Quickly, he tried to think of where the conversation had begun and get back to it. “Uh, Amos.” Seeing that he had the boy’s attention, he continued, “Do you think you’ll go back to Lancaster for a visit?”

  “No way. My dad would never let me come home now that I’ve left. I snuck away and left no trace of where I was headed.”

  “How many times?” Moriah asked.

  Amos raised a puzzled look.

  “How many times did you try to run away before you actually succeeded?”

  Amos’s face lightened. “Let’s see. Three. How about you?”

  “I planned it all out and left and then realized I’d forgotten my wallet, so I came back after walking two miles and tried again two nights later.” Moriah beamed. He looked at his brother. “Gideon made a clear escape his first try.”

  Gideon didn’t want to get into the memories of that night. “So,” he said to Amos, “you’re here to stay?”

  “It’s a nice place,” said Amos as he helped himself to more stroganoff. “I like the church here.”

  “Church?” said Luke. “Which one are you going to?”

  “Mari invited me to her church and I went. Different. But nice.”

  Gideon wanted to change the subject. He had no interest in hearing more about Mari’s church. He supposed that she invited everyone to her church as he recalled how she’d asked him about attending that rainy afternoon at the tea shop.

  Halfway through dessert, Moriah looked at his wristwatch and said he had to go. Politely, he thanked Gideon for the meal and stood.

  Gideon didn’t ask him any questions, but later that night wished he had. As he tr
ied to get comfortable in his bed, Gideon wondered about his brother. Moriah seemed to take a lot of cigarette breaks and at lunchtime today, he’d wandered off and didn’t return until a few hours later. What is wrong with Moriah? Has he forgotten his hardworking roots?

  The next morning, Gideon noted that the sofa had not been slept on. Moriah usually left his blanket swung over the back of the sofa when he woke, but the blanket was still folded in a little pile on one corner of the couch.

  Gideon headed out to work, hoping Moriah would be in the garage, working on Mrs. Peterson’s old Ford with Luke. He entered the bays and saw Luke, but no sign of his brother.

  When Kiki got to work, she placed her bike by the storage room door and then said that she’d told everyone at school to come to the shop with their bikes. “I told them eight dollars.”

  “Eight dollars?”

  “I have to charge them something! This shop needs to make money.”

  Ormond chuckled from his desk. “A girl after my own heart.”

  “But what made you decide to come up with eight? Why not ten?” Luke asked as he washed his hands.

  “Eight is what Mari said we should charge. Not as much as ten, so people will think it’s a bargain.”

  Luke laughed. “That’s what everyone wants around here, something for nothing.”

  “Gideon told me that eight is only the beginning.”

  “The beginning?” Ormond asked.

  “Yeah. To look at the bicycle, that costs eight. Then if you need new tires, then I add more to it.” From her pocket, she removed a folded slip of paper. “It’s here. Gideon wrote it all down for me. I look at this and I know what to charge.” Her smile evaporated to a frown. “It’s numbers which means math. I don’t have a mind for math, no mind for math.”

  Ormond and Luke laughed, but Gideon’s somber thoughts kept him from joining in their amicable conversation. “Has anyone seen Moriah?”

  “Not today,” said Luke. He dried his hands and sauntered back to his bay.

  Ormond busied himself with today’s edition of the paper and said that he had not. He turned back a page to show Gideon a story, claiming that Ashlyn had a rather controversial column in there about local ski resorts not updating their lifts and charging too much for ski passes. “The owners won’t be pleased,” he said. “Jack and Mary told me that they are already losing money this season and need to increase their fees.”

  “Kiki, have you seen Moriah?” Gideon stood in front of her.

  Kiki only moved her keepsake toolbox onto the center of the floor and sat beside it, her legs crossed. Her orange puppet friend lay beside her like a silent observer.

  “Kiki?”

  “What? I have to be ready. Kids are coming with their bicycles. Lots of kids.”

  “Have you seen Moriah today?”

  “No,” she said quickly and looked at her feet.

  Gideon stepped closer to her. “You haven’t seen Moriah?”

  “I said no! For Pete’s sake, I said no.” Grabbing the puppet, she clutched it with both hands and buried her nose in its fur.

  Gideon knelt in front of her. “Do you know where he might be?”

  She looked at him then. “I can’t lie. Lying is a sin. Did you know that?”

  “So I have heard.”

  “The Ten Commandments say not to tell a lie.”

  Gently, he said, “Yes, I know.”

  Her eyes darted to the front door, the bays, and then back at her feet. Flexing her toes inside her tennis shoes, she let out a long sigh. “Angie saw him.”

  “Angie Smithfield? The tattletale?”

  Kiki raised her voice. “She can be nice, too.”

  “I’m sure she can be. No one is all bad.”

  Kiki ran her nose over her puppet like a puppy sniffing a new toy.

  “What did Angie tell you?”

  “That she saw him last night.”

  “Angie saw Moriah?”

  “She told me that today in math class. Moriah was walking down the street with Tamara, and then they got into her car.”

  Gideon tried to place who Tamara was. When it dawned on him, he asked, “Tamara McAlister?”

  Kiki would not meet his eyes. “Reginald’s girlfriend.”

  Gideon stood. “Thanks, Kiki.” He wasn’t sure how this would help him know where his brother was right now, but at least he could put two and two together. Last night when Moriah slipped out, he must have met up with Tamara. Gideon knew that his brother frequented the local pub. Perhaps he’d run into Tamara there and gone off with her. Perhaps he was still with her. Gideon wished Moriah would choose another woman. Not only was Tamara already Reginald’s girlfriend, but it was common knowledge that Reginald despised minorities, including all Asians, Jews, Native Americans, blacks—and ex-Amish. When Gideon first started working for Ormond, Reginald had thrown dozens of eggs at the walls and windows of the shop. After three days of that, Ormond had called the sheriff. Henry promised to pay the man a visit. “Twin Branches is a peaceful town,” Henry had emphasized over Reginald’s callous injections that minorities needed to stay out of the region. “And you better not be doing anything more to show your ill feelings, or I will arrest you.” The egg-depositing had stopped.

  “I need a keepsake box at home for my collection!” Kiki bellowed when Gideon walked toward his office.

  “I know. I know.”

  “I told the truth.”

  “And I thank you for that.” He was about to say more, something his father might have said about not being rewarded every time you did the right thing, but he hesitated as a young boy with a green Schwinn bicycle walked into the shop through the front door.

  When the boy saw Kiki, he said, “I brought my bike. Can you fix it?”

  Kiki smiled like she’d just won an award at the state fair. Jumping to her feet, she said, “I can do it. Do you have eight dollars?”

  Gideon heard Ormond laugh and felt that if there was one thing she did right, it was to bring some humor and warmth into the shop.

  As usual, that evening after closing up the shop, Gideon walked home. But instead of going inside when he reached the apartment complex’s parking lot, he got into his truck. With one eye on the road and the other scanning the sidewalks, he drove up and down the streets of Twin Branches. He slowed when he saw a tall blond-headed figure walking along in front of the ice cream shop. But as the man turned, he realized it was not Moriah.

  Parking across from the Rusty Saddle Bar and Grille, he watched men and women enter and exit. When it grew dark and cold, the streetlights flickered on. He buttoned his jacket up to his neck and wished he was holding a hot cup of green tea. Where could Moriah be? He didn’t know if he’d made new friends or if he already had another local hangout besides the pub.

  Restless and impatient, Gideon left and drove the mile to the Piggly Wiggly. Inside he bought a pound of ground beef, a pack of hamburger buns, and some mustard. He searched for Moriah, scanning the beer aisle, but didn’t see him. Remembering that he was low on bread, he added a loaf of whole wheat to his cart. He hoped his recent order of six jars of apple butter would arrive this week from the Pennsylvania Country Shoppe because he was down to his last jar at home.

  At his apartment, he formed the beef into patties and fried one for himself. Placing it on a bun, he added generous squirts of mustard and ketchup, and two Mount Olive pickle slices. He would have put some Hellman’s on his meal, but he was out of mayonnaise. He poured himself a glass of sweet tea and sat down to eat in front of the TV. His mind wandered as the local news played before him. He considered praying, asking God to keep Moriah safe. As he put his plate into the dishwasher, he decided that asking God for help was not a bad idea.

  He woke at two-fifteen to pots clanging in the kitchen. At first, he thought he was dreaming, but then he realized that none of his dreams ever came with surround-sound effects.

  Stumbling out of bed, he entered the darkened living room and made his way into the kitchen. A ligh
t was on, allowing him to see Moriah shirtless in a pair of dirt-stained jeans, standing by an opened cupboard. “What’s going on?” Gideon asked, his voice raspy with sleep.

  “Making some chow.” Moriah had a can opener in one hand and a can of Campbell’s chicken soup in the other.

  “Where were you?” It was then that Gideon saw the gash above his brother’s right eye. Dried blood filled it. “What happened to you?”

  “Nothing.” Moriah turned his back in search of a spoon.