Unfinished Business

by Inglath Cooper

It wasn’t yet six when she let herself into the stall. The deer was still asleep, but at Addy’s entrance, raised her head.

  “Hey, sleepy girl,” she said, rubbing her soft neck.

  The deer licked her hand. Addy pulled some carrots out of her pocket, the mini kind the deer liked best and fed them to her. She followed that up with some apple slices. “You’re going to be okay, you know?”

  The deer licked her hand again, nudged it in search of more treats. Addy removed a bottle of nail polish from her other pocket, uncapped it and made a bright red circle on the deer’s right hip. She stood, then swiped a sudden release of tears from her cheeks. She was doing the right thing.

  She opened the stall door and stood just outside holding it open. The deer looked at her, then trotted out and stood beside her. Addy walked away from the barn, the deer staying close to her side. When they’d reached the pond, she stopped, dropping down onto her knees. A field lay between them and the woods on the other side. She knew that a group of deer came down every morning for a drink.

  They sat there for a few minutes, Addy rubbing her side. And then four deer appeared at the edge of the woods, walked across the field to the pond.

  The deer looked at Addy, then bounded off, stopping short of the group. They had just spotted her.

  Addy stood. The group turned and ran back to the woods. The little deer stared at her as if torn.

  “Go,” she said, raising her hand.

  A fallen tree lay at the edge of the field that bordered the woods. She jumped it in a single leap and was gone after the others.

  Addy cried.

  She couldn’t help it.

  * * *

  THAT AFTERNOON, CLAIRE received a call saying there would be a six o’clock meeting about the interstate route that evening at the community center.

  Addy and Claire arrived to a nearly full room. They managed to find two chairs together near the back. A news team from a nearby TV affiliate stood near the front with cameras. A reporter from the Roanoke newspaper sat in the second row.

  Mayor Duncan stood behind a podium at the front of the room. He raised a hand. “Could I have your attention, please, ladies and gentlemen? I won’t hold you in suspense. This afternoon, we received a statement from Congressman Powers’s office indicating that he no longer supports the proposal of Corridor A for Interstate 92. The statement read as follows. ‘Recent cost estimates have revealed Corridor B, the route that falls to the west side of the county, around Three Hawk mountain, would involve the fewest disturbances of existing businesses and home sites while providing a direct path for the transportation demands that must be met.’” The mayor looked up from the paper and smiled a big smile.

  Addy reached for Claire’s hand and gave it a squeeze. Claire squeezed back.

  “In conclusion, I understand that tomorrow’s paper will begin a series of articles looking at the connection between Congressman Powers and one of his most prominent supporters, Raymond Dudley. As you know, Mr. Dudley is under investigation for the threats that were made against many of you in relation to the willing sale of your property with regard to the Harper’s Mill route. I look forward to reading those articles.”

  Everyone stood and started clapping. Addy embraced her mother, aware of the relief on her face. The mood turned festive then, hugs and backslapping all around.

  The meeting was adjourned. Claire spotted a friend from church with whom she wanted to speak.

  “I’ll meet you by the car,” Addy said.

  “I’ll just be a minute.”

  Addy made her way to the stairs, coming up short at the sight of Culley waiting at the bottom.

  “Hey,” she said.

  “Hey. Walk you out?”

  “Sure,” she said, her heart doing an uncooperative leap.

  Outside, they stopped at her car. Stood in a clutch of awkwardness as if neither knew what to say to the other.

  “Good news,” he said.

  “It is. It’ll be interesting to see the article tomorrow.”

  “My friend at the paper gave me an advance reading. It looks like Congressman Powers had some major incentive from Dudley to make sure the road went through Harper’s Mill.”

  “Financial incentive?”

  “Kickbacks on the contracts Dudley stood to gain, which apparently amounted to a good deal of money.”

  “I guess that’s one way to increase your retirement fund.”

  “Yeah,” he said, his gaze direct on hers. “I’m just glad they didn’t get away with it.”

  “And that no one else has to worry about being the next target.”

  He nodded. “You look great, Addy.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Are you all right?” he asked, his voice softening a note.

  “I’m okay,” she said.

  “I miss you.”

  “Culley—”

  “I know,” he said, holding up a hand. “Nowhere to go. I just wanted you to know.”

  She glanced down, then looked back up at him. “I got a call today about a job offer.”

  Surprise flickered across his face. “A job?”

  “In Manhattan. My old firm is merging with a firm there.”

  “Oh.” Long pause. “And you’re interested?”

  She lifted both shoulders. “I don’t know. Mama thinks I need to consider it. Make sure I know what I’m turning down.”

  He started to say something, stopped. Then nodded once. “She’s right.”

  It wasn’t what she’d expected him to say. So why had she told him anyway? Had she hoped he would plead with her not to go?

  Claire came out. “Hello, Culley.”

  He cleared his throat. “How are you, Claire?”

  “Good. You?”

  “Fine, thanks.”

  “I can go back in for a bit if you two would like to talk.”

  “No,” Addy said, suddenly needing to put some space between Culley and the pain in her heart. “We should go, Mama.”

  He nodded and stepped back.

  “Bye,” Addy said.

  “Bye.”

  She pulled away from the curb, glancing once in the rearview mirror. He was still standing there, hands in his pockets, watching them go.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CLEMENTS OCCUPIED AN old train depot on the outskirts of town. Culley drove by it every day, normally not giving it a glance. But tonight was different. Tonight, it pulled at him with an insistence he could not refuse. For the first time in longer than he could remember, he felt the need for a drink.

  He wheeled into the parking lot and got out, heading inside where he blinked for a moment to adjust to the dim lighting. He took a seat at the bar.

  The bartender was John Wayne-tall with a voice to match. “What can I get you?” he asked.

  “Scotch and water, please.”

  The bartender nodded, reached for a bottle, poured a measure in a short glass, added some water and handed it to him on a napkin.

  Culley put his elbows on the bar, stared down at the drink.

  “Rough day?”

  To his right sat a man in bib overalls and a worn-looking plaid shirt. Culley tipped his head. “Yeah. Sort of.”

  “You’re looking at that glass like it’s no friend.”

  “I guess it isn’t.”

  The man took a sip of his beer. “I don’t have to tell you there aren’t any answers in the bottom. Not much peace, either.”

  Culley rubbed his thumb around the rim of the scotch and water.

  “You’re Dr. Rutherford, aren’t you?”

  “Yeah.”

  The man stuck out his hand. “Barry Miller. My mother is one of your patients.”

  Culley shook his hand. “Evelyn Miller?”

  Barry nodded.

  “Nice woman, your mother.”

  “Thank you.”

  They sat a bit, not saying anything.

  “You don’t strike me as the kind of guy to come to a place like this for answers.”


  “I wouldn’t, ordinarily.”

  “That big a problem, huh?”

  “Pretty big.”

  “Woman troubles?”

  “So to speak.”

  “You love her?”

  It wasn’t where Culley would have imagined ending up tonight, sitting on a stool in Clements discussing his personal life with a man he didn’t know. But there was something about his manner that said he wasn’t asking out of idle curiosity, so Culley answered. “Yes.”

  “Have you told her?”

  Culley shook his head.

  “Why’s that?”

  “I’m not exactly free and clear.”

  “You’re married?”

  “No. But my ex-wife is…she’s kind of going through a rough time.”

  “And you’re trying to fix it for her?”

  “Trying to help, I guess.”

  “I don’t have anything close to a degree in psychology, but I know a little something about trying to be all things to all people. That sometimes it makes us not much good to anyone.”

  Culley looked up, met the man’s kind gaze. Nodded once. He pushed the glass to the edge of the bar and stood. “Thanks.”

  “I didn’t tell you anything you didn’t already know.”

  “Maybe I just needed to hear it.”

  * * *

  LIZ WAS DOWNSTAIRS in the living room when Culley arrived home. He stopped in the doorway. She looked up and smiled.

  “Madeline’s not back yet?”

  Liz got up from the couch, placed the magazine she’d been looking at on the coffee table. “Your mom said the church dinner would be over around eight-thirty.”

  Awkwardness settled over them. Culley nodded and said, “I have some calls to make.”

  “Okay.”

  He turned to go just as she called out, “Culley, wait.”

  “What is it?”

  She crossed the living room floor, waving a hand between them. “Us,” she said. “This silence between us. Are you going to punish me forever?”

  Culley planted a hand on the doorjamb as if he needed the support to remain where he stood. “I’m not punishing you, Liz.”

  “It feels like you are,” she said.

  He noticed then the extra effort she’d taken with her appearance. Her hair was freshly washed and shiny. She’d put on makeup for the first time since she’d been back. And he could smell the subtle lift of perfume.

  He drew in a deep breath and released it. “I want to be fair to you,” he said.

  “You’ve been more than fair to me.” She looked down, then directly in his eyes. “I guess maybe on some level I hoped we might be more than that again.”

  Culley chose his words carefully. “I don’t want to hurt you. But it can’t be like that.”

  She reached out and placed a hand on his chest. “We had something really good once, didn’t we?”

  “Liz—”

  She leaned in then and kissed him, her arms slipping around his neck. He let it go for a moment, then put his hands on her shoulders and stepped back.

  Hurt flashed across her face—it was impossible to miss.

  “I’m sorry,” he said.

  “You won’t ever get past what I did, will you?”

  “It’s not that.”

  “Then what is it?”

  He looked away.

  “There’s someone else?” she asked.

  He glanced back, met her eyes. “Yes,” he said. “There is.”

  She nodded, bit her lip, then forced a smile. “I see. Then I’m the one who should apologize.”

  “Liz—”

  She held up a hand. “I’ve been an idiot, thinking I could ever make up for the past.”

  “No one’s asking you to. We just need to figure out how to go on from here.”

  She forced a smile. “That’s the trick, huh? I think I’ll go on up. Good night, Culley.”

  “Liz—”

  But she didn’t stop. And he let her go.

  * * *

  ADDY LEFT THE HOUSE around five-thirty and arrived in D.C. just before ten with a break in Staunton for a quick breakfast at Rowe’s, a must-stop when traveling I-81.

  Owings, Blake occupied the seventh floor of a high-end office building in the heart of D.C. When Addy had first come to work there eight years ago, she’d been impressed with all the bells and whistles that go with a prestigious law firm. A waiting room straight out of Architectural Digest with enormous black leather sofas and original art work on the faux-painted walls. But as she stood at the front desk now waiting for the new receptionist she didn’t know to buzz Ellen, she felt a quick longing for the sound of a tractor and an apple-scented breeze.

  “Ellen said to send you right back, Ms. Taylor,” the receptionist said.

  “Thank you.” Addy followed the hall to Ellen’s office, knocked at the half-closed door.

  “That you, Addy?”

  Addy stuck her head around the corner. Ellen vaulted out of her chair, wrapped her in a big hug, then pulled back for an assessment. “I can’t argue that life away from the big city has been good for you.”

  “Thanks. You look amazing, as always.”

  “Want some coffee or something?”

  “No. I’m good, thanks.”

  “So what do you think? Are you up for a move to Manhattan?”

  “I thought I should hear out the offer.”

  “Fair enough. What’s holding you back?”

  “It’s kind of complicated.”

  “Involving the infamous Culley?”

  Addy tipped her head to one side, avoiding the question.

  “Complicated how?”

  “I’m not the only one in the picture,” she said, not wanting to elaborate beyond that. On the drive up, she’d thought of little else, and the more she went over it, the more hopeless it seemed.

  “Ah.” Ellen bit her lip in characteristic consideration. “So maybe some distance would be best. And if what you two have is the real thing, it’ll find a way.”

  Addy knew it was true. That maybe this wasn’t their time. That the last thing she wanted was for Culley to wake up one day and regret something he hadn’t done because of her. And maybe it would be easier for him if she weren’t in Harper’s Mill.

  “Besides,” Ellen said. “Can you imagine how much fun we could have in Manhattan?”

  “And you’ve already mapped out the hot spots, right?”

  “Of course.” Ellen smiled. “Roland’s waiting in his office. Shall we go?”

  “After you,” Addy said.

  * * *

  THE ITCH WAS so strong she could barely think around it.

  Liz stood at the kitchen window, arms locked across her chest as if she could physically hold herself together, when inside, she felt the pieces flying apart.

  She wanted to be strong. Craved it almost as much as the alcohol. Almost.

  What she really wanted was oblivion. From the mistakes she’d made. From the reserve she saw in her daughter’s eyes every time she looked at her. From the tolerance and sympathy in Culley’s.

  What had she been thinking? Had she really believed she could come back and expect everyone to start over? Pretend nothing had happened?

  From where she was standing now, it seemed incredibly naive.

  She glanced at her watch. Ten in the morning, and she had nothing to do until Madeline got home from school. Six hours. No, eight, because Ida was taking her to ballet at four. Eight hours.

  She went to the freezer, pulled out a bag of coffee beans, put some in the grinder and made a strong pot. She sat at the kitchen table and drank three cups, one after the other as if the caffeine might soften the itch.

  She cleaned up the dishes from breakfast, put them away in the cupboards. Ten-forty.

  She ran a hand through her hair, catching a glimpse of herself in the mirror hanging on the far wall. Saw the reflection of a woman losing the battle.

  She went to the coat closet and pulled out her purse. S
he walked out on the porch, stood for a few moments, looking down the road.

  She had no car. So she started walking.

  * * *

  CULLEY LEFT THE OFFICE just before six. His mom had called to say her car wouldn’t start, so he headed over to the dance studio to pick up Madeline from ballet class.

  She was waiting for him at the door, climbing into the Explorer with a big smile on her face. She rattled off all the details of the class and the upcoming recital to which she would wear her new dress.

  They were almost home when Culley’s cell phone rang. He picked it up—his office number was on caller ID.

  “Hey, Culley. It’s Tracy. I wasn’t sure what to do with this, but someone just called from Clements. They said Liz had been there since early afternoon. They wanted to know if someone could come and get her.”

  Culley dropped his head back against the seat. “Ah, could you call them back and tell them I’ll be there just as soon as I run Madeline over to Mom’s?”

  “They said within ten minutes, or they’d have to call the police,” she said, apology in her voice.

  “Thanks, Tracy,” Culley said, clicking off the phone.

  “Is it Mama?” Madeline looked at him with resignation in her eyes.

  “We need to go pick her up,” he said.

  Madeline nodded once, then turned and looked out the window.

  * * *

  A BOUNCER STOOD at the front door of Clements, apparently acting as a barricade to prevent Liz from coming back in. She sat on the top step of the entrance, elbows on her knees, hands pushed up through her hair.

  “Is she okay, Daddy?”

  Culley squeezed her hand and said, “I’ll be right back.”

  He got out and jogged over to the entrance, stopping just short of the steps.

  The bouncer inclined his head. “You here to pick her up?”

  “Yeah,” Culley said.

  “Probably looks like she was overserved, but she’d had a few before she got here.”

  “Thanks.”

  The bouncer turned and went back inside.

  Liz looked up at him and shook her head.

  “Can you walk?” he asked.

  She tried to stand but couldn’t manage it.

  Culley bent down and picked her up, carried her to the Explorer and set her in the back seat. The smell of vomit was strong on her clothes. He went around back, found a plastic bowl he kept in the car for Madeline’s occasional motion sickness. He handed it to Liz. “Are you okay?”