My cell phone rang a few nights that week. The caller ID said it was Brad. I finally shut the phone off, not wanting to deal with the pressure of whether or not to answer.
By Wednesday, I’d eaten the last can of food in the pantry: waxed beans. I could barely swallow the bland fare, but I forced it down, starved as I was. By three o’clock, the hunger pangs kicked in again.
I gave in to primordial necessity and started up the Explorer. I thought about heading to Port Silvan, but I figured everyone in town knew my car. One call to a cell phone somewhere, and I wouldn’t have a kitchen to cook in. So I drove to Manistique instead, where I was just another face in the crowd. I shopped at full speed, stocking up with extra items this time. I raced home, searching the sky for a telltale pillar of smoke.
But everything was as I left it. I cooked myself a gourmet burger filled with onions, mushrooms, and bleu cheese. I brought it out to the deck and devoured it as the sun set. Hues of pink, purple, and orange colored the western sky. My food seemed flavorless in the presence of such beauty.
Before I went to bed, I called Candice. “Hi. I’m going to have to cancel our tea date for tomorrow.”
“Is everything okay? What’s going on?”
“Everything’s fine. I’m just running behind after the fire and I’d like to do a little catching up. How about I see you next Thursday?”
A long sigh filtered through the earpiece. “I guess so. I can’t say I’m not disappointed, though, Tish.”
“I’m sorry. Next Thursday. I promise.”
I hung up the phone, wishing I could have gone to tea if only to find out what had happened between Candice and my grandfather the day of the fire.
The lack of sleep finally caught up to me. I dozed through the night without my usual hauntings.
The next morning came warm and sunny. The authorities hadn’t been sifting through my pile of ashes in about a week. I assumed that meant Officer Segerstrom had gotten all the evidence he’d needed from the scene. Apparently, the law was leaving it to me to clean up the mess.
I stood at the edge of the coals and stared at the remains of my adorable garden shed. The metal prongs of a rake and the blackened edge of a spade poked through the cinders. Just the items I could have used to clear out the debris. My prized ladder lay blackened under the heap.
A slight breeze toyed with the back of my hair. Birds chirped in random song around me. The sun beat down with the energy to draw thin green strands of life from the earth. I sighed. Even the old push mower I’d soon need had been destroyed by the flames.
I jerked my head up at some movement off in the woods. My breathing kicked into high gear as I scanned the forest for the perpetrator. I detected a twitch. Through a maze of branches, the face of a doe came into focus. My doe.
“Here, girl.” I made the kissy sounds.
She stared at me, flicking her ears. She gave a wary toss of her tail.
“Come on,” I coaxed.
Instead of running off, she turned her head and nibbled at some twigs. We were neighbors now.
I watched her awhile, then dug my gloved hands into the coals. I hauled what charred remains I could past the bushes at the far edge of the yard. I dug out the rake head and duct-taped it to a stick. I used what was left of the shovel to scoop the pile of ashes into a bucket and dump it in the woods.
I dusted the charcoal off my gloves. A few spring downpours and all evidence of the fire would be gone. Everything except the foundation, which now had to present some other use or look like an eyesore upon the sale of my cottage.
I ran a wrist across my forehead. I hated to think about selling. I loved it here in the country. My neighbors were friendly, furry, and far between. Just the way I liked it. But short of winning the lottery, staying put wasn’t an option.
I turned at the sound of a car approaching. A blue state police cruiser pulled down the drive and parked next to me. Officer Segerstrom got out.
I nodded at his approach.
“Cleaning up, I see,” he commented.
I looked around at the foundation. “I hope you were done here.”
“I’m afraid it’s going to be tough finding the folks responsible,” he said. “But there’s always the chance that someone will talk. Then we’ve got them.”
“I appreciate your efforts.”
He took his hat off and held it. “The reason I came by is because my buddy Brad’s been trying to get in touch with you. Is something wrong with your phone?”
I pursed my lips. “Nothing is wrong with my phone.”
He gave a slight nod of his head. “Well, I suggest you answer your calls, then. We don’t make it a habit to check on shut-ins. We rely on their friends and neighbors to do that.”
I put hands on hips. “Excuse me? Shut-ins?”
He stared at me, silent.
I waved an arm. “I’ve got plenty of friends and neighbors. Brad’s not the only person who cares about me, you know.”
He kept looking at me without saying anything.
“Besides, I can’t leave,” I expounded. “They’ll probably burn down my house next.”
“Do you keep a weapon on the premises?”
I pointed to the decapitated spade. “Right there.”
“Take my advice. If they want to burn the place down, let them. Don’t try to be a hero. It’s not worth losing your life over.” He put on his cap and adjusted it. “Whatever you decide,” he said, “I think you owe Brad a call. He’s tied up in court—something about a body you dug up in your basement—so he can’t come up here himself to check on you.”
I’d forgotten about the hearings and trials that would be taking place right around now. Thankfully, the prosecution had more than enough evidence to make the convictions without my testimony.
“Brad says call him. It’s urgent.” The officer climbed in his vehicle, turned it around, and drove off.
20
I waited until I was good and ready, about ten minutes later, to put in a call to Brad. It was urgent, Officer Segerstrom had said. It better be. Granted, I owed Brad the courtesy of the return phone call. But that was all. We were done. Over. Kaput. This whole past week I’d been in the process of moving on.
“Tish. Thank God you called.”
His voice tore a gash in my stitched-up emotions.
“Hi.” I barely formed the syllable.
“I need a really big favor,” he said without formalities.
This was no time to grant favors. No. No. No. I put a hand to my temple. Just the sound of his voice made me wish I’d never left Rawlings. My earlier resolve crumbled against the power of my desires.
“Sure. What is it?” I heard myself say.
“It’s Sam.”
“Sam?” My voice perked up. Samantha Walters was Brad’s gorgeous, spunky sister. She’d been a good friend to me back in Rawlings. “Is Sam okay?”
“No,” he said without hesitation. “Her ex is scheduled to get out of prison this week and I don’t want her anywhere near Rawlings when he does.” He took a deep breath. “Can she come stay with you for a while?”
“Umm, ahh. . .” I launched into some foreign vowel recitation.
“It’s really important. You don’t know what this guy is like. They shouldn’t even be letting him out.”
“Well, umm, how long is a while?” I liked Sam well enough, and I hoped the best for her, but I just couldn’t bear to have a daily reminder of my failed relationship with Brad lounging on my sofa. Besides, the last time I’d had a roommate was during my short stint in college. All I remembered was her penchant for soap operas during my study time and a boyfriend who should have been paying rent.
“A couple of weeks, max. Just ’til I can get a handle on him and see if he plans to cause Sam trouble.”
I rubbed at my eyes. What I’d give to have Brad care for me even a smidge as much as he cared for his sister. But he’d never gone out of his way for me. I certainly didn’t feel compelled to go out of my way for him, even if Sam’s safety were on the line. Brad was a cop. He’d find another place to put her. “I don’t know, Brad. I’ve got the brute squad after me as it is. I don’t need to be expanding my list of miffed-off men.”