She left the bridge behind, thankful that the man lived on the other side of the river. The last thing she needed was visitors.
Ed’s Pub was quiet, except for the flamboyant ’50’s style jukebox that belted out Johnny Cash’s Walk the Line and the handful of customers—some just out of high school—who played pool on the three billiard tables at the far end. At a table near the door, two primitive-looking men dressed in soil stained coveralls were drinking beer, their shaggy gray beards brushing the wet surface of the table. They looked like gold diggers from the Klondike era.
When they noticed Sadie in the doorway, their mouths dropped and the whispering began. She ignored them and headed for the bar, where a man stood with his back to her, rearranging bottles against a mirrored wall. When he turned, she knew without a doubt that he was Irma’s brother.
“What can I get you, young lady?” he asked.
“Ice tea, please.”
The man’s mouth curled into a wrinkled smile. “What’s a pretty gal like you doing in a place like this?”
She laughed. “I see originality isn’t one of your strong suits.”
“Hard to be original when you’re a twin.”
The man was a carbon copy of his sister, right down to the thin build, short gray hair and dark eyes. But where Irma’s eyes were serious and knowing, his did a dangerous two-step with flirtation as he leaned down, grabbed a glass from under the counter and filled it with ice tea.
He slid it down the bar toward her. “So what are you doing here, ’sides making my heart race?”
“I’m finishing a project. I needed a peaceful place to do it, so I’m staying in one of your sister’s cabins.” As an afterthought she added, “And if I’m making your heart race, perhaps you forgot to take your medication this morning.”
“Tsk, tsk,” he said, chuckling. “You’re a sharp one.”
“That’s what my husband says.”
Ed’s face fell and she nearly burst out laughing.
“Dang. You’re married?”
She wasn’t about to tell him about the pending divorce, so she held out a hand. “Sadie O’Connell.”
“Ed Panych.” He smiled. “Well, Sadie O’Connell, you just dashed away all my hopes.”
She grinned and patted his liver-spotted hand, the one with the plain gold band on his ring finger. “I’m sure your wife will be relieved.”
A hoot erupted from behind her. The men at the table were brazenly listening to every word.
“Yeah, Martha’s gonna be very happy, Ed,” one of them shouted. “Don’t think she’ll wanna share ya. ’Specially since you just celebrated your fiftieth.”
Ed waved his hand in the air. “Ah, shut it, Bugsy. I was just teasing the lady.”
Bugsy muttered something to his companion. The other man let out a thunderous laugh that echoed in the small pub.
“Sorry,” Ed told her quietly.
“Nothing to be sorry about.” She grinned, raised her voice. “If you weren’t married, Ed…”
“Ah, I’m way too old for a pretty gal like you,” he mumbled, embarrassed. He hobbled into the back room.
Sadie sat at the bar, lost in her thoughts as a nostalgic sadness swept over her. She’d always thought she and Philip would grow old together, celebrate their fiftieth and sixtieth anniversaries, and sit in matching rockers on the back porch.
She took a long swig of her tea, draining the glass.
None of that was going to happen now.
Ed reappeared. “Another?”
“No thanks.” She rifled through her purse and dropped some coins on the bar. “Irma said you wouldn’t mind if I plugged in my laptop once in a while. To charge the batteries. Is that okay?”
“You can charge my battery anytime!” Bugsy shouted.
“Hey!” Ed bellowed. “None of that, you mangy mutt. Or I’ll cut you off.”
Bugsy clamped his mustached mouth shut.
“You need electricity, you come see me,” Ed told her. “Tell Irma I’ll drop off more ice in the morning.”
She nodded, then stepped outside. Above her, the sun shone brightly, glaring off the pavement and anything metal, but the air still held a chill.
There wasn’t much activity in Hinton. Traffic was light, only a few cars. The Sobeys grocery store was right across the street, down a block, so she decided to leave the Mercedes in the pub parking lot. The walk would do her good.
She strolled across the street in no hurry, enjoying the quiet, when a childish laugh made her look over her shoulder. A group of teens walked toward her, the girls giggling, while the boys tried to look cool. One young man—a punked-out kid with black and violet streaked hair—walked with a swagger that would’ve put John Travolta to shame. His arm was thrown over the shoulders of an anorexic blond waif who looked destined for a stint at a rehab center.
“You gotta problem, lady?” the boy asked as they passed by.
“No,” she mumbled, wondering if Sam would’ve talked like that.
She hurried into Sobeys.
Half an hour later, she headed back to the car with four bags of groceries and a bag from the nearby liquor store. Setting them on the ground, she unlocked the passenger door and maneuvered the bags onto the seat and floor.
As she left the parking lot, a black pickup sped around the corner in front of her. It barreled past, kicking up rocks into her windshield, and screeched to a dusty halt near the pub doors. She watched in the rearview mirror as a man in a cowboy hat and long jacket jumped out of the truck. Even with his back to her, she knew it was Sarge, the idiot who had almost run her off the road earlier.
And my neighbor from across the river.
She was tempted to charge in after him, give him a piece of her mind, but she chickened out. Confrontations weren’t her thing. She had proven that more than once.
19
“There. That should do me for a while.”
Sadie placed the last package of meat into the decrepit freezer outside Irma’s cabin. The rusty hinges of the lid screeched when she lowered it. She winced and looked at Irma. The old woman was leaning against the cabin, puffing on a cigar as usual.
“Ed said he’ll drop off more ice tomorrow,” Sadie said.
Irma grunted. “So… did he make a pass at ya?”
“Just a little one.”
“No such thing as a little pass, dear. Ed’s a lecherous old fool. Don’t know how Martha puts up with him.” Irma lifted a bony shoulder. “He’s harmless enough, though. All mouth.”
“I can take care of myself, Irma.”
“Don’t doubt that for a minute. Just watch out for the townies. ’Specially Sarge.”
“You mean the idiot in the black Ford?”
Irma broke into a fit of coughing. “Yeah, him.”
“Does he live nearby?”
The old woman’s eyes shifted to Sadie’s left hand. “No ring?”
“Divorced. Well…” She gave a quick shrug. “Almost.”
“No such thing—”
“As almost divorced,” Sadie finished for her.
“Coulda used you for a daughter,” Irma mumbled. “You’re quicker than most.” She pursed her lips thoughtfully. “Sarge lives across the river and down aways. He’s not married, if you were gonna ask.”
Sadie blushed. “I wasn’t.”
“Sure you weren’t. Stay clear of him, dear. He’s a loner and not much of a people person. ’Specially since his wife and kids died.”
“That’s too bad.”
“A terrible tragedy, it was.”
“There’s a lot of that going around. Did you know them very well?”
Irma took a drag on her cigar. “His wife Carrie was friends with my Brenda. ’Cept Sarge didn’t want her talking to anyone, even when he was in Iraq. Kind of possessive, that man. And them kids… poor little lambs.”