*
From behind the post office counter, Jonah Maxwell lifts one of his shaggy white eyebrows as he eyes our handcuffs. It started pouring this morning, so not only are we chained to each other, but we’re also dripping wet.
“Are you two running from the law?” the postman asks.
A fair question.
“Uh, no sir.” I shake my head. “We’re actually here on official legal business.”
“Like running from the law?” he says, his eyebrow creeping higher.
Kayla steps forward. “Actually, we were hoping you could help us. My father recently passed away. Maybe you knew him, James Turner?”
Jonah’s face brightens. “You’re James’s daughter? We loved James.” His features soften sympathetically. “The wife and I were so sad to hear he’d passed. He was a good man, your father. I’m sorry for your loss.”
Her expression tightens but her voice remains pleasant. “Thank you.” She clears her throat. “That’s actually why we’re here. In his will, my father asked me to come to the post office and ask for the Turner key?” She gives him a killer smile and I wonder if anyone, ever, in the history of the world, has been able to say no to that smile. Probably not.
Jonah smiles back. “Well let me see here.” He pulls something up on his computer screen and reads, “James Turner. Box number twelve. Keys can only be given out to James Turner himself, or to the joint custody of Kayla Turner and Daren Ackwood.” He looks from the computer to us. “I suppose that’s why you’re both here?”
I nod and hold up our cuffed wrists. “We’re joint.”
“Well okay then.” Jonah disappears in the back and returns shortly with a postal key. Handing it to Kayla he says, “Here you go, dear. It’s nice to finally meet James’s daughter. We heard so many great things about you over the years.”
She pauses with the key in her hand. “You did?”
“Oh yes.” He smiles. “Your father was always talking about his little girl and showing us pictures. He was very proud of you and bragged nonstop about you going to nursing school.”
Looking at Kayla, I tilt my head. She’s compassionate but tough. Kind but careful. Yes. Nursing definitely suits her.
“James always said you’d be an amazing nurse,” Jonah continues. “Said that caring heart of yours was designed to help others.”
She swallows, looking taken aback. “Oh. That’s… wow.” Her expression is torn. Half-curious. Half-sad. “Well thank you. For the key.” She smiles at Jonah and the storm in her eyes momentarily lifts.
“Sure thing, darlin’.”
She says, “Have a good day,” then turns and pulls us around the corner to where the PO boxes are.
Two guys standing in the corner instantly perk up the moment she comes into their view. Even with her leashed to my arm, they gape at her shamelessly, grunting and nodding their appreciation for her body.
After hearing Kayla talk last night about how people don’t “see” her, I feel differently about these guys, and men in general, who stare at her. I still feel protective like I did yesterday, but now I also feel irritated. And defensive.
I want to protect her from the shallow eyes and snap judgments of onlookers because she deserves to be seen. Like a pretty vase filled with priceless gems, she’s valued more for her surface beauty than the riches inside. I get it now, and I feel like a shallow dickhead for every girl I’ve ever judged on appearance.
Kayla ignores the guys in the corner, keeping her focus ahead as rain beats against the post office windows and blurs the world outside.
We scan the boxes in silence until I find number twelve, point to the keyhole, and grin. “Yahtzee!”