Wild Flower Page 7

  I straightened my spine and managed to keep my voice low. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

  His eyebrows lifted at my words. And something shifted in his eyes, buried instantly, almost before I recognized the threat; I blinked, so discomfited by him that I felt a curl of nausea across my gut. But nothing more. Where there should have been a flash, a sensing, the usual vibrant, unseen cord that connected my awareness to everything around me, there was only emptiness. It was this more than anything that caused the next breath to lodge in my lungs.

  “Touchy,” he said lightly, casting his eyes to the table, his tone conveying unmistakable embarrassment. “Sorry I asked.”

  I was compelled to say, “It’s all right.”

  “Thanks for the coffee,” he said, meeting my gaze once more. This time he seemed nothing but friendly. He added, “See you around,” before rising and heading outside, and seconds later was unloading gear from the backseat of his car. I stood and observed as he unstrapped his canoe and hefted it over his head, before proceeding to the lake without a backward glance. I stood watching a moment longer, second-guessing myself, while behind me Camille teased Millie and Rae.

  He’s harmless, and you’re being unfair.

  His eyes are fucking creepy though.

  That’s hardly his fault.

  It’s everything with Aubrey, I decided. You’re just more worked up than normal.

  “You have a second to talk before you go to White Oaks?” I turned around to ask Camille.

  “Of course. I’ve been wanting to talk to you, too.”

  “Let’s go sit on the dock,” I suggested. “It’s cooler out there.”

  By the time we’d buckled the girls into their lifejackets and made our way down the incline to the water, I was relieved to see that Zack Dixon was well on his way across Flickertail, no more than a speck as he paddled. Camille and I settled on the end of the dock, letting our feet dangle into the water, as the girls held hands and jumped in together, proceeding to play and dog-paddle near our legs. Camille stooped to pick a few of the long-stemmed daisies that bobbed near the south side of the cafe and trailed these along her neck, her eyes fixed meditatively on the far shore.

  “Your mom and I talked for a while last night,” I began, stirring up the water with both feet.

  “Mom’s worried, I know.” Camille let the flowers rest upon her lap. Her loose hair hung down her back in waves; the lake breeze plucked at it like gentle fingers. I was reminded suddenly of a conversation we’d shared almost three years ago now, sitting at a booth in the cafe, Camille newly pregnant and terrified at the prospect of caring for an infant. She’d come so far since that afternoon, had discovered within herself a well of strength and capability; she now had a sweet daughter and a fiancé who would do anything for them. The Camille from three summers ago, lonely and disillusioned, would never have believed it possible, and so I understood her fear of it all being swept away—the whole idea that something too good to be true often proves just so, that somehow she didn’t deserve this much happiness.

  “Not about Mathias,” I clarified. “We all love him, I hope you know.”

  Her entire face lit like a candle at my words. She rested her chin against her shoulder to look at me and said softly, “I do know. Isn’t he amazing?”

  “He is.” Mostly to keep the buoyant smile on her face, I tattled, “But Jo is worried you’re going to get pregnant before your wedding.”

  Camille giggled, sounding momentarily like a younger version of herself, scooping her hair into one hand and drawing it over her shoulder. Beneath her tan, I saw the heat that spread like a wine spill across her cheeks. In a tone that suggested a major confession, she asked, “Aunt Jilly, can I tell you something?”

  “Oh my God, you’re already pregnant,” I realized. “I should have known, you have that glow about you…”

  Camille fluttered her hands in the air, still giggling. “No, no. Not yet. But we decided to stop using birth control, just this week.”

  I nodded at this announcement, debating whether I should tell Jo or let it rest. Camille saw the indecision on my face and hurried to say, “Don’t worry, I’ll tell Mom soon.”

  “I’m not worried.” I folded her hand in mine. Her fingers were long and slim, but strong as they curled around mine, holding fast. “I think it’s the right decision for you two. It just seems so right thinking of that little homestead cabin full of babies, you know?”

  Tears spangled her long lashes as she nodded, squeezing my fingers. “Oh, I do. I so do. I’ve thought that since I first went out there to see it, that spring with Bull, before I even met Mathias.” Her gaze moved to Millie Jo, busy splashing and shrieking with Rae, and she whispered, “I was so sure that Millie would never have a brother or sister.”

  I let go of her hand to smooth my palm over her back, as I had when she was a little girl. “I know exactly how you feel, I really do. After Chris died, I figured Clinty would always be an only child.”

  “Clint’s such a good big brother. And I love that he calls Uncle Justin ‘Dad.’ I wish…” She paused, clearly torn, before admitting, “I wish Millie Jo could call Mathias that. He’s so much more a father to her than Noah will ever be.”

  “Does Millie call Noah ‘Daddy?’ ” I asked.

  “Not in front of me. I guess I don’t help that very much…I always call him ‘Noah’ when I talk about him to her. That’s probably shitty of me.” Her tone was carefully hopeful that I wouldn’t agree.

  I said gently, “If Noah’s trying, which he seems to be, then probably that’s a little shitty, hon.”

  She sighed, studying the far shore. “I know. I should be grateful that he’s trying. I think he’s drinking again, though.”

  “He looks pretty rough every time I’ve seen him lately. But that doesn’t necessarily mean he’s fallen off the wagon.”

  “He was at Eddie’s with a couple of friends, Eddie told me,” Camille said, shading her eyes as the sun increased in intensity. In a few more minutes, we would have to tote out the sunscreen. “When I confronted him about it last week he said he was the sober cab for his friends. But I think it’s just plain stupid to put yourself in a situation like that when you’ve clearly got a problem.”

  “You, and friends and family of alcoholics everywhere. At least he’s trying to be a part of Millie’s life now. That’s an improvement.”

  “It is, I can’t deny it,” she said, in a tone that suggested she wanted badly to deny it, and more than likely, simply deny him and his potential role in Millie’s life; I struggled to muster up any real sympathy for Noah Utley, whose behavior toward Camille and their child, especially that first year, could be described as nothing short of pathetic. But considering the way Noah had appeared lately, I felt a twinge of pity for him—not that I’d admit this to my niece.

  Instead, I changed the subject, remembering my actual intent. “Your mom told me last night that Mathias came to ask her what he could do about your nightmares. He’s worried about you.”

  Camille murmured, “I didn’t realize he’d talked to Mom.”

  “I wish I knew how to help you. I know that there’s something unresolved, something much older than you or Mathias, something from the past. But I don’t know if you have the power to change it. Or mend it.” I wished for the countless time since she’d passed away that I could somehow speak directly with Great-Aunt Minnie. Although she came to me in dreams, it was hardly the same thing as a real conversation; I longed for her stern, reassuring presence, and had since the day she’d died. Of all the womenfolk in our family, no one understood me the way Minnie had, and I ached with missing her, even still. I shifted on the dock boards to relieve the pressure on my tailbone; I finally admitted, “I can’t get a better handle on it than that, not yet. But I’ll keep trying.”

  Camille caught her engagement ring between the thumb and index finger of her right hand, studying it in the sunlight. “If I understood what happened last winter, I could rest easier
,” she said, pale at the remembrance. “We have absolutely no answers, no idea what would have motivated it. Whoever attacked Mathias is still out there and all we have are those stupid gold bars with fingerprints that weren’t in any database. What in the hell?”

  For a split second I thought, Zack Dixon…

  But he’d only just arrived in Landon—he hadn’t been here last February.

  So he said.

  Camille continued, “If we could find out what happened to Malcolm, I feel like that might be a start. Who was Cora? What was he searching for? Sometimes I feel like I’m so close to knowing, right in that moment before you fall asleep, you know, when your leg jerks all of a sudden and wakes you up?”

  I nodded, forcing myself to set aside these new fears bubbling inside of me since Zack’s arrival at Shore Leave.

  “I feel like the answers are right there, and then when I come fully awake they get snapped back up inside my mind. It’s exhausting.” Camille brought her left hand to her lips, kissing the ring there as though invoking a talisman. “I love Mathias so much, Aunt Jilly. That picture of Malcolm led me to him, and I will be thankful for that, for always. But a part of me is scared…I don’t even like talking about this… I’m so afraid that something might happen. That I can’t possibly be this happy without some sort of consequence…”

  With as firm a tone as I could muster, I ordered, “Camille, stop. You know what you sound like?”

  She looked my way with the exact expression that graced my son’s face when he didn’t want to hear what I intended to say. I explained softly, “You sound like someone who hasn’t had enough sleep. You need rest. It’s tough to be rational when you’re overtired.”

  She finally nodded agreement. “You’re right, I know you’re right. But it’s almost like…”

  “Like what?” I encouraged.

  Her eyes darted across the lake, in the direction of White Oaks. She whispered, “I feel like…I owe Malcolm. I know it sounds crazy.”

  “It’s not crazy. Would discovering what happened to him fulfill what you owe?”

  She used the back of her wrists to swipe the tears away. “I’m counting on that.”

  Later, Justin drove over from the filling station to have lunch with Rae and me, like usual. After Camille and Millie Jo left for White Oaks, Aunt Ellen and I made bacon cheeseburgers and coleslaw, and Rae sweet-talked Mom into stirring up a batch of brownies.

  “It smells amazing in here,” Justin said. I met him halfway and he scooped me into a hug. I kissed his jaw.

  “I hope you’re hungry.” Though he’d shaved this morning, he already had a five o’clock shadow going; he wore his typical work attire—an old t-shirt with the sleeves torn off and faded jeans. He looked better than dessert.

  “Always,” he said.

  “Daddy!” Rae barreled through the swinging door that led to the kitchen.

  “Hi, teddy bear,” he said, catching her up into his strong arms. Rae giggled and Justin planted a kiss on her nose. “You been listening to Mama today?”

  She nodded with vigorous enthusiasm.

  “Whose car?” Justin jerked a thumb over his shoulder to indicate Zack Dixon’s; in a small town, we all knew one another’s vehicles, and no one parked out at Shore Leave that he didn’t know, not when we were closed. He clearly saw something in my eyes, as he asked in a different tone, “What is it, Jills?”

  Rae squirreled down and galloped back to the kitchen before I could answer, and Justin straddled a stool at the counter, reaching for me. Like a magnet to its mate I moved into his embrace, hooking my arms around his neck, my belly cushioned safely between us. He studied me, unblinking, and asked again, softly, “What?”

  “There’s something about him that bothers me.” Even if I was being irrational, it was the truth.

  Justin’s eyebrows drew slightly together. “About who?”

  “The guy who owns that car.” In Justin’s arms, what distressed me about Zack Dixon seemed insubstantial, even ridiculous. I explained, “Eddie directed him out here. At least that’s what he said. He’s a grad student at the college in Moorhead and he came in and had coffee with us this morning.”

  “And?” Justin spoke lightly, but beneath the surface his tone resounded with protective concern. Even if I hadn’t said it in so many words, he could tell I was more troubled than I was admitting.

  “I can’t explain it exactly.” I ran my fingers over the back of his neck, where his hair formed slight curls.

  “Anything else?” I knew he meant, Did you have a Notion about him? I loved how he had always simply accepted my oddly-timed Notions, that he trusted in them implicitly, as I did. I debated telling him that I still felt oddly disconnected from my usual self, but I hadn’t slept well last night and decided I would take my own advice and get some rest.

  “No. I’m probably overreacting,” I allowed.

  Justin bracketed my hips with his hands. “So where is he now? What’s his name?”

  “Dixon,” I said. “Zack Dixon. He’s out in his canoe. He asked Mom if he could park here when he puts in the water. He’s collecting water samples for something.”

  “How about I beat the shit out of him, just for fun?” my husband asked, gliding his hands along my ribs. I knew he was just kidding, trying to coax a smile.

  “Because you’re not seventeen anymore. Getting into fights with Jackson, just for fun.”

  “We never fought each other. We just had each other’s back. That’s funny, I ran into Brent Woodson this morning and it got me thinking about the time Jackie fought him after the homecoming game, senior year…”

  “I remember that night. Jo was beside herself with worry. Fucking Jackie. Brent was pretty tough back then…”

  “Now he’s just got a beer gut from hell,” Justin interjected.

  “What did he do again…he said something about Jo…”

  “I don’t remember anymore, but Jackie was offended, of course. God, that was a beauty of a fight,” Justin said, half-smiling at the memory. “I jumped in because Brent brought along Mikey Mulvey. I cleaned his clock. Shit, and now he’s a cop…”

  “And you busted your knuckles on Mikey’s jaw,” I reminded him. “I remember Jo and I got there just in time to see the aftermath. You two were the triumphant victors and Jo was ready to kill Jackson.”

  “I remember you being there that night.” He stroked his fingers through my loose hair. “I always knew where you were, even back then. I wasn’t entirely aware of it, but then I’d be watching you out of the corner of my eye. My sweet little woman.”

  “I watched you, too,” I said, recalling well. I slipped my palms over his broad shoulders and slowly down the muscles of his back. I murmured, “But back then I couldn’t touch you.”

  “What about now?” he asked, low and throaty.

  “Now,” and I smiled into his eyes, pressing my breasts a little closer to his chest. “Now, I can touch you anytime I want.”

  Later, Dodge joined us and we all ate on the porch before Justin and his dad headed back to the shop. I spent an hour helping Mom weed the garden, picked strawberries until my back was aching, then walked Rae home for a nap in the early afternoon and ended up sleeping alongside her. Clinty woke us up an hour before dinner to remind me that he was biking into Landon to play baseball. Justin and I tried to get to as many of his games as we could.

  “Love you, Mom!” Clinty called as he left, my sweet son who would still burrow on my lap if he wouldn’t squash me in the process.

  By the time Rae and I walked back to Shore Leave along the forest path, the quality of the light had altered, now that evening was approaching. I never failed to take pleasure in the long summertime beams. Rae scampered ahead and I noticed Mathias’s truck in the lot. And Zack Dixon’s car, still in the same place he’d parked it this morning.

  “Jilly, are you having supper with us?” Mom poked her head out the door to ask. “Dodge is bringing Ruthie and the triplets.”

  “No
, we’re heading over to the athletic field to watch Clint’s game,” I reminded her.

  I’d forgotten my shoes on the side of the cafe and headed that way to grab them, collecting a pile of lifejackets along the way, intending to return them to the shed. I bent, with great care, to catch my flip-flops by their straps when my arms broke out in sudden cold gooseflesh.

  “Jillian!” I heard someone herald, and turned to see Zack jogging up the incline. He’d drawn the bow of his canoe onto the shore. I wanted him and every piece of equipment associated with him off of Shore Leave property as soon as humanly possible, but wasn’t entirely sure how to express this without sounding slightly crazy. He was lean and athletic, catching up with me long before I had a chance to disappear inside the cafe. Reaching my side, he asked, “That’s your name, right?”

  In the afternoon light he appeared sweaty and disheveled, normal-looking, a sunhat shading those eerie eyes. Without waiting for me to respond, he added, “I feel like we got off on the wrong foot. Sorry. I have a big mouth, and you are really, really pretty. It threw me for a loop.”

  I stared at him without a word, clutching the lifejackets to my belly in a protective gesture, also very much thrown for a loop.

  It’s an act, I realized. He’s selling you something. But what? Why?

  “Just keep your opinions to yourself, all right?” I said at last, shifting the burden of the lifejackets to my other arm. Without asking permission he swept them from my grip, his fingertips brushing my tank top.

  “You’re pregnant,” he said. “I’ll carry these for you.”

  “Mama! Millie’s daddy is here!” Rae announced from an open window.

  “Where’s Camille?” I called, grateful for this excuse to leave Zack behind. I climbed up the porch steps and entered the cafe to see Noah Utley standing awkwardly near the till, hands in the pockets of his khaki shorts. Even if I wasn’t particularly fond of him, it was easy to see why he’d once appealed to my niece; he was tall and fair and angelically handsome, if slightly worse for the wear these days. He offered me a polite, impersonal smile.