In Sickness and in Death

“No, I’m not.” My response was automatic as my gaze darted around the room, searching for another exit. I spotted a door in the far corner, but it was barricaded by plants. The only way out of this room was past Peter … and his dog.

“That’s too bad. Leslie said you were interested in my planters. They told me at the florist shop that your husband had requested a list of all the customers who bought one.” Peter stuck his hands in his pockets and rocked back and forth on his heels. “I guess I should have thought to take back the one I gave Josie.”

It was as good as a confession. Peter had killed Jessica James a.k.a. Josie Montalvo.

My hands started to shake. I thought I might throw up my pie. I swallowed multiple times and fought for control.

Peter’s gaze never left me. He didn’t make any moves toward me, either.

I wondered if I could flip open my cell phone and surreptitiously dial 911. My gaze dropped to my hand.

Peter noticed.

He lumbered into the room and grabbed the cell phone from me. He picked up my purse, too. Then he returned to his position in the doorway.

He flipped the lid on my cell open and shut, open and shut, over and over again until I was ready to scream.

Abruptly he stopped. “You should have drunk the coffee. All I wanted was a head start.”

Funny, that’s all I wanted, too.

I heard a car door slam. I sucked in my breath and prayed. Could it be Ray?

I twisted my head toward the driveway. A woman and a toddler stood on the gravel, looking toward the house. Another egg customer.

Peter spotted them, too. “Rufus. Guard.”

The dog leapt to its feet, teeth bared.

Peter disappeared and reappeared seconds later in the driveway. He spoke to the woman and headed in the direction of the barn. I lost sight of him.

I thought about screaming. My lips parted.

The dog growled. Saliva dripped from its lips and hit the vinyl floor, forming a puddle.

If I screamed, I would be endangering a woman and a child, not to mention myself. Rufus might be trained to go for the neck.

I sat instead.

Leslie snored on next to me, oblivious.

The dog watched me, still growling, but didn’t come any closer. The coffee table was between us. It seemed like a very flimsy safety net to me.

I thought about placing my drugged cup of coffee on the floor in the hopes Rufus would lap it up. But the coffee cup was so small and Rufus was so big. He’d probably spill it, if he’d even break the guard command.

Then I noticed all the plants had water saucers under them. I reached to my right.

Rufus barked and snarled, lunging forward.

I closed my eyes, said another quick prayer, lifted a plant and pulled out the saucer.

Rufus snarled and lunged again, saliva dripping on the table now.

Hands shaking, I reached for my coffee cup.

Rufus growled but didn’t lunge.

I flipped the coffee into the saucer. Then I grabbed the crust I’d left on my plate and added it to the mixture.

Rufus’ saliva had pooled on the table. He wasn’t growling anymore.

No way was I going to hold the dish out to him. He could take my hand off with one lunge.

I placed the saucer on the floor and used my foot to slide it over to him.

He growled, snapping at my toes.

I pulled back.

He sniffed the dish once. A second time. Then he stuck his face in and lapped it all up.

I watched as Peter brought the woman an egg carton and accepted her money. She said something to him. He responded.

Rufus was still on his feet, smacking his chops. The coffee and piecrust were gone.

The woman opened the back door to the car, still talking to Peter as she strapped her child into the car seat. Peter nodded, looking toward the house.

She said something else. Peter faced her.

Rufus swayed. He blinked. He swayed again.

Then he lowered himself onto his front paws. He dropped to his haunches.

A second later he was on his side, snoring in chorus with Leslie.

I grabbed the knife off the table. I looked out the window. The woman’s car was gone. Peter was nowhere in sight.

I listened. The house seemed silent. Maybe Peter was still outside.

I tiptoed across the room and flattened myself against the edge of the doorway. The house remained silent but I was afraid to move.

Now would be the perfect time for Ray to show up with his search warrant. But somehow I didn’t think I could be that lucky.

I decided to risk taking a look into the kitchen.

I eased myself around the edge of the door and let one eye take a peek.

The kitchen was empty. The only sound was the tick of a round clock with a rooster on its face. My purse and cell phone lay on the table.

I darted across the room and grabbed them up. I ran for the door, the purse, phone, and knife pressed tight to my chest.

Only a few more feet and I’d be out of the house. My gaze flicked to the window, keeping a nervous eye out for Peter. Too nervous.

I tripped over a shoe and started to fall. I let go of everything I held so that I could use my hands to break my fall.

As my hands and knees hit the floor, the cell phone bounced once and landed inside a rubber boot caked with mud. The knife skittered across the tiles and under a bench. The contents of my purse spilled onto the hallway carpet runner. I lost a few seconds catching my breath.

When I was able, I grabbed my car keys and left the rest of my things on the floor. I leapt to my feet, stopped at the door, and looked out the window.

No one in sight.

I listened. Besides the occasional rustle of leaves from a gust of wind and the distant moo of a cow in the pasture, the day was silent. Nothing to indicate Peter was nearby.

Now was the time to make my break. I took a deep breath, burst through the door, and ran for the Lexus, pumping my arms like an Olympic track star.

I got halfway there.

Hands dug into my stomach as they swung me off my feet. In a second, I was airborne. The keys flew from my fingers and smacked into the Lexus’ windshield. I screamed in fear and despair.

Peter hustled me across the gravel drive toward the barn, holding me two feet off the ground. I kicked and screamed. My heels made contact, drumming his kneecaps. He didn’t seem to notice. I tried to twist my body so I could hit him in the head. He just twisted me back. I was like a bundle of hay to him.

Of course, he was like a tractor to me.

The barn was dark. At first, I couldn’t see anything. My eyes adjusted. I caught sight of stacks of foam coolers, two refrigerators, bales of hay, buckets of all shapes and sizes, and drums filled with farming tools like pitchforks and shovels. Horse stalls lined both sides of the barn. Empty horse stalls.

I kept on struggling, but I was running out of air as his hands squeezed my torso.

He tossed me into a horse stall. I landed hard on my knees. As I scrambled to my feet, he locked the door.

I could see his shoulders and face above the wall of the stall. I was too short to see anything else outside it. The walls were about my height with iron bars that reached three feet higher. It made the perfect jail cell. No way would I be climbing out of here.

Now what? Where are you, Ray? I need you.

Peter said, “You never should have made friends with my brother. No one else wanted anything to do with him. I tried to warn you off. Most people who get shot at tend to stick close to home, not go around butting their noses into other people’s business.” With that, he walked away.

Believe me, I was sorry I had befriended Leslie. But hindsight is twenty-twenty.

When I could no longer hear Peter’s footsteps, I rushed up to the door and pushed on it. I kicked it. It didn’t even wiggle. I reached for the top of the wall and tried to pull myself up to see out. I managed to get an inch off the ground before I dropped. Even at my current light weight, I couldn’t do it. Pull-ups never were my thing, and my muscles were weak from months of inactivity.

I heard the Lexus turn over. Good. Maybe he’ll steal my car and Ray would find me here later.

No such luck. The Lexus pulled inside the barn. He shut off the engine.

I heard the car door slam and more footsteps. The sound of a creak wafted to my ears from the loft overhead.

A metal trough banged into the bars on my stall. It appeared to descend from the loft. I heard a noise like a garage door lifting. Then another noise like raindrops on a metal rooftop.

Something dropped to the floor at my feet. Corn kernels.

I looked up and watched as a rush of kernels flew off the end of the trough and showered the floor of the stall. They kept coming, covering the floor.

I realized Peter’s plan. He was going to bury me alive!

Heart beating out of control, I scrambled to the wall and tried to claw my way up it again as the kernels poured into the stall. They were a foot deep now. Each time I dropped to the floor, I slipped and slid. I lost my grip on the wall. I realized I was screaming when I sucked in a cloud of corn dust and choked.

The kernels kept coming. The dust made my eyes water and my throat burn. I couldn’t breathe.

I was knee deep now, struggling to move. My legs were mired in corn. My eyes burned.

I gagged. The air was too full of dust and particles. The oxygen was gone. My lungs strained for a breath of air.

Tears welled in my eyes.

The realization hit me.

I was going to die.





My chest felt tight. The pressure on my legs was growing. I couldn’t feel my feet. I kept my eyes closed but my mouth opened involuntarily, trying to suck in air. All I got was a mouth full of corn dust, which made me panic just that much more. I was lost. I love you, Ray.

My fingers clawed uselessly, desperately, at the stall walls.

Then I felt it. The smallest knothole in the wood, maybe big enough for a toehold.

I struggled to lift my right leg out of the kernels. Holding my breath, I bent and unzipped my boot, letting it drop onto the rapidly rising corn.

It took me three tries but I fit my bare toe in the knothole. Summoning all my strength, I heaved myself upward. My big toe cramped but held my weight.

I grabbed the bars, coughing and sputtering. Then I puked corn dust all over my shirt.

My eyes burned when I tried to open them. I gripped the bars tightly with one hand while I rubbed at my eyelids with the other. My tears washed away some of the dust but more came to replace it as the corn kernels kept falling. Soon they would reach my kneecaps at this height, too.

I opened my eyes a slit and tried to see through my tears. Was Peter still in the barn?

Unable to see or hear him, I attempted to swing my still-booted foot onto the top of the stall wall. It took me five tries but finally I managed to pull myself into a kneeling position between the bars. After a moment of rest, I got my feet flat on the stall wood and swung over the top of the bars. From there, I looked at the eight-foot drop to the floor.

In elementary school, I had thought nothing of jumping off the top of the slide. Of course, my bones were a lot less old and brittle then. On the other hand, the stall below had hay on it. Perhaps it would cushion my fall.

I slid off my other boot. Heels planted on the top of the wooden stall, I crouched as low as possible to shorten my drop and let go of the bars.

I landed on my feet and immediately fell forward, smacking my knees for a second time that day on the floor beneath the hay. Winded, I lay still and listened for Peter.

The corn kernels trickled to a halt. The barn was silent.

Pain shot through my ankles as I pulled myself slowly to my feet. If Peter came after me now, he’d have no trouble catching me. My ankles would give out in a chase.

I limped toward the barn door and yelped as an enormous form filled the doorway.

It was Peter.

I backed into the barn, whimpering.

He came after me.

“Jolene, it’s me. It’s Leslie.”

I squinted, trying to make out the color of the shirt. Even in the dim barn light and with my sore eyes, I could tell it was green. I let out a sob. “Peter tried to kill me.”

“I know. I’m so, so sorry. He’s not … quite well.” Leslie held out her hand to help me up. “Come on, let’s get you some air.”

Not quite well? Was that like a little bit pregnant? Her excuses sounded familiar, though I couldn’t say why.

I let her lead me out of the barn. My eyes closed involuntarily. The sun was too bright and they were too damaged.

“Stand right here. I’ll get some water to rinse your eyes.”

I waited for her, afraid when I no longer heard the noise of her footsteps and afraid when I did. My heart beat so loud I feared it would burst.

She touched my arm, making me jump. “Lean your head back and I’ll pour the water over your eyes. It will make it better.”

I did as she asked then felt like I was drowning when the water ran up my nose.

I pulled away, snorting.

She pressed a towel into my hands. “Here, Jolene. Just blot your eyes gently.”

When I finished, my eyes were still sore but I could see. Peter was lying crumpled by the barn entrance, a huge goose egg on his brow. A shovel lay abandoned on the ground next to him.

I backed away, pointing, my lips moving without sound.

Leslie glanced at him. “Don’t worry. He’s out cold.”

When I had last seen her, she was, too. Apparently, their large bodies could take quite an onslaught and still bounce back quickly.

She took a step in my direction and held out her hands, palms up. “I’m sorry he attacked you. He hates so much the idea of me becoming a woman.” She closed her eyes. “So much.”

When her eyes opened, I thought they looked desperate. She took another step toward me. “He goes to a psychiatrist about it. He can’t stand the thought of me … changing my body and leaving him. He despises anyone who provides me with any sort of support, including you, my psychiatrist, and my surgeon. I thought he was coming around, but …” Leslie heaved a sigh, the kind of sigh that says “I was so wrong. Don’t worry. I’ll see that he gets the proper care.”

I wasn’t worried. Within minutes, I planned to have Ray ensure Peter got the proper care, courtesy of the state of New York, for many years to come.

Peter’s eyelid twitched.

I backed toward the farmhouse door. “We need to call 911 right now. Right now, Leslie!”

“Okay, okay.” She glanced over her shoulder at him. “I just don’t want the police to hurt him.”

Was it my imagination or had Peter opened his eye and looked at us? I jumped back a foot, shaking my head.

Frankly I didn’t care if the police killed him, as long as they kept him away from me. “I’ll call Ray.”

I turned and ran for the house, yanking the door open then turning to lock it behind me, praying neither of them were carrying a key. Darting into the kitchen, I scanned the counters and the walls for the phone.

A white cordless hung on the far wall. I raced to it and dialed 911.

The operator answered. I stammered my name and the address of the Flynn farm. “Peter Flynn tried to kill me. I think he killed Jessica James. Can someone come right away?”

“Yes, ma’am. I’m sending a sheriff’s deputy now.”

“Send more than one. He’s a big man.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Can you call my husband, Ray Parker? He’s a deputy sheriff.”

“Yes, ma’am. I know your husband. I’ll call him now.”

The doorknob jiggled. Someone banged on the door. The glass broke.

My hands started to shake. “Hurry, hurry. He’s coming in the house.”

I dropped the phone and started pulling out drawers, looking for the Chinese meat cleaver. It was in the sink, with bits of chicken flesh still on it.

I wrapped my fingers around the handle and held on tight.

No one came inside the house.

Instead, I heard sounds of a struggle outside: metal clanging, grunting, feet scrambling for footholds in the gravel.

Creeping toward the door with cleaver in hand, I was ever so careful not to trip on the shoes and boots in the hallway. I looked through the hole in the glass.

Peter had a pitchfork. Leslie had the shovel. They were circling one another.

Peter spoke first. “Les, you don’t understand. Just let me go. I’ll leave town.”

“You can’t go. You need help.”

Peter’s face twisted in anguish. “It’s too late for that.”

Leslie shook her head. “It’s not too late. The doctor will help you.”

“You don’t understand.”

Leslie waved the shovel at him. “What don’t I understand?”

He jumped back seconds before she connected with his protruding stomach. “I killed a woman.”

Leslie took a few steps back. “Jolene is not dead. She’s in the house, calling the police.”

Peter started to cry, great heaving, blubbering sobs. “Not …

Jolene.”

Leslie’s shovel dropped a few inches. “Then who?”

“Jo … sie Mon … tal … vo.”

I could almost see the wheels turning in Leslie’s head. “That dancer from The Cat’s Meow? The one I read about in the paper? You said you didn’t know her. YOU TOLD ME you didn’t know her.”

Peter nodded, tears still streaming down his cheeks.

“WHY?”

Peter shook his head. “I don’t know. I don’t know.” His chest heaved as another sob burst from his lips.

Leslie lowered her shovel. “Put the pitchfork down, Peter. We’ll talk about it. Whatever happened, we can work it out. Together.”

“We can’t. We can’t. She’s dead. I killed her. I didn’t mean to … I mean, I didn’t want to.” He fell to his knees, the pitchfork lying useless beside him.

Leslie moved toward him. “Why did you kill her, Peter?”

“I thought she liked me. She slept with me. I gave her money, but she said I was special. I thought she might want to marry me. I didn’t want to be alone. You were leaving me.” Peter covered his face with his massive hands. “I told her about you. She listened. I thought she cared.”

Leslie moved a little closer. “Why did you kill her, Peter?”

Peter dropped his hands. He raised his tear-streaked face to Leslie’s. “I told her about you and how much I loved you and how much it hurt me that you didn’t want to be twins anymore.”

He gasped for breath. A moan followed.

I felt a chill run down my spine. He sounded like a wounded animal. I almost felt sorry for him. Almost.

“She laughed at me, Les. She laughed. She said, ‘What’s the big deal? Who cares? So what if your sister wants to … to get … to get … her … peter … whacked off?’”

With a heartbroken wail, he crumpled to the ground at Leslie’s feet.

Leslie knelt and gathered him in her arms.

As he sobbed into her chest, she smoothed his hair and murmured, “It’s okay. It’s okay. I’ll stay with you. Don’t worry, I’ll be right here. You’re my brother. I’ll take care of you.”

Then she lifted her gaze to mine and I knew what I had seen in her.

A little bit of me.

____


Gumby, Ray, and Tony , another officer, showed up minutes later, lights flashing. They got out of their respective cars, guns drawn, and looked at Peter and Leslie huddled in the driveway. By this time, the two of them didn’t look much like a threat. More like a meltdown.

Gumby took the precaution of kicking the pitchfork and shovel aside.

I dropped the Chinese cleaver, unlocked the door and stepped out.

Ray holstered his weapon as he strode over to me. “Are you all right?”

I nodded, more of a reflex than an actual response. I was alive. Numb, but alive.

He glanced at Leslie and her brother. “We’re arresting Peter, right?”

“Yes. He killed Josie Montalvo. They had a relationship of some kind.” Clearly, not the good kind. Not the healing kind.

Ray looked at the two brothers again. “Which one is Peter, for sure?”

I sighed. “The one in the blue shirt. The one without the veneers.” Without the boobs. Soon, without the brother.

Ray slid his cuffs off his belt. He walked over to Leslie and Peter. “We’re going to have to take Peter in, Leslie. Can you step back, please?”

Leslie let go of Peter and stood. Ray slapped the cuffs on Peter, who didn’t resist as Ray led him to Tony’s patrol car and put him in the back. Tony holstered his gun. He listened to Ray for a moment then climbed into the car. He turned his lights off and backed down the driveway.

Gumby approached Leslie. “We’re going to need a statement from you. Can you accompany me, please?”

Leslie glanced my way. She mouthed, “I’m so sorry.” Then she followed Gumby to his car. He turned off his lights and backed out.

Ray met me at the base of the steps. “What happened?”

I shook my head. Tears started to flow.

I pressed my forehead against his chest.

Without another word, his arms encircled me and held on tight.

____


Erica called at eight o’clock that night. I answered the phone, because Ray and Danny were in the middle of playing poker, a game I never understood. A flush, a straight. They sounded like plumbing issues. Ray and Danny were playing for M&Ms. Danny was winning. I’d have to cut off the game soon or the sugar and caffeine from the chocolate he was winning would keep him up all night.

“Can you pick me up tomorrow at eleven? Dr. Albert said he would be in to sign the release papers then.”

Just like Erica. No greeting. No apology. Just demands. It was okay with me, though. I’d missed her. “Sure. Doesn’t Maury want the honor?”

“He has to work. He has a new job, remember?”

“Oh, sure.” In floral delivery. I stifled a giggle. It wasn’t really funny that my sister had married a man who tried to woo every woman he met with roses. It certainly wouldn’t be too funny when she found out about it.

I sure wasn’t going to be the one to tell her.

“Can you help me clean out the apartment and move all our stuff to Wells Street?”

“Sure.”

“Tomorrow?”

“Sure.”

“Can I hang out with you the next couple days, until Maury has time off ?”

“Sure.”

“Can I have five hundred bucks?”

“No!”

“Just checking.” She hung up.

After we tucked Danny into bed, Ray led me into the bedroom. He closed the door and sat on the bed, patting the spot next to him.

I snuggled beside him. “What’s up?”

“Danny’s father is going to be released tomorrow. They’re not going to charge him with anything.”

“Does that mean Danny will be leaving us?” Leaving our home, leaving us, leaving me. I was so tired of everyone leaving me. My mom, my dad, Noelle, Erica, and now Danny. At least Erica would never leave me. She couldn’t afford to.

Ray entwined his fingers with mine. “I spoke to Social Services. With the house in Newark and the aunt’s cars, all Danny’s father needs is a job and he can have custody of Danny. He can get in touch with Social Services, and they will ask us to give Danny to him as soon as Mr. Phillips gets his first paycheck.”

I whispered, “I wasn’t too happy about taking Danny at first, but I’m going to miss him.”

“Me, too.” Ray kissed the back of my hand.

I tried not to think about having to say goodbye to Danny. Instead, I remembered Leslie’s face as she watched her brother taken away in handcuffs. It made me feel worse.

“What’s going to happen to Peter Flynn?”

“Leslie got him a lawyer. I think the lawyer will plead not guilty by reason of temporary insanity.”

“Do you think he’ll get off ?”

“It depends on the psychiatric evaluations, his attorney’s skill, the trial jury, and the alignment of the moon. I’m sure it doesn’t hurt that Peter was already seeing a shrink. But he did try to kill you in addition to Josie Montalvo. He won’t walk, but he might spend the rest of his days in a psychiatric facility.”

Let’s hope they didn’t put him in the same one Erica frequented. I would not care to run into him again.

“Did he say why he was driving around with Jessica’s arm in a cooler?”

“He found it in the back of the truck when he got home. It must have slid out of the bag, and he missed it in the dark. He planned to put it with the rest of her body after his psychiatrist appointment on Wednesday.”

Imagine his surprise when he came out of his appointment and found it missing. “Did he take Danny’s father’s car from The Cat’s Meow on purpose?”

“He said not. He was drunk and agitated to see Josie talking with another man when he thought he was her one and only. He sat right next to Danny’s father at the bar, and they had both laid their keys on it. He picked the wrong set up when he left the bar and was too far gone to notice.”

“When did he kill her?”

“Sunday night, same day Danny’s father took her Cadillac Escalade.”

Her death was too horrific to think about. It was one reason I couldn’t buy a temporary insanity plea. Peter Flynn had walked out of Jessica James apartment after choking her to death, grabbed the axe, and gone back inside to chop her up piece by piece and toss her remains into a garbage bag.

I pushed those images away and closed that mental drawer forever. “I wonder if Leslie will go ahead with her surgery.”

“I don’t know, Darlin’. If she truly thinks she’d be happier as a woman then she’ll have to, won’t she?”

I guessed so. But as much as I liked her, I wouldn’t be visiting her at the farm again to find out. In fact, her farm might very well be the first and last I ever set foot on. I certainly didn’t plan on ever eating corn again and I’d think twice about chicken, too.

Something else had been bothering me. “Did you notice the similarities between Leslie and her brother and Erica and me?”

Ray raised his eyebrow. “No. I don’t see any.”

I looked at him in shock. “You don’t? Leslie’s brother is mentally ill and causing trouble, my sister is mentally ill and causing trouble. Leslie’s caring for her brother. I’m caring for my sister.”

Ray squeezed my hand. “Leslie is an enabler. You’re an enforcer.”

“A what?”

“An enforcer. Erica would have been a lot worse off without you. I don’t think we can say the same for Leslie and Peter. Leslie knew her brother had an alcohol problem. She knew her brother was driving without a license for years. She didn’t report him. She didn’t stop him.”

“Yes, let’s talk about that. How did all you big, bad deputy sheriffs miss him driving over the hills all these years?”

Ray grimaced. “Oh, sure, now it’s my fault. Let’s just say we missed it and leave it at that.”

“I suppose you’re right about Leslie. She even let him drive her truck around.” When the sheriff’s department returned to the farm with a search warrant, it hadn’t taken them long to ascertain that the axe in the bed of Leslie’s truck had been used to dismember Jessica James.

“But I don’t think Leslie would have ignored the facts that he shot at me or killed Jessica James if she had known.”

“She has been very cooperative … and supportive to her brother. It’s a fine line to walk.”

I knew all about that line. Erica had pilfered from convenience stores, taken money from her co-workers’ purses, and even driven the getaway car in a movie theater robbery. But that was before her medication got straightened out, before she grew up. Of course, she did “borrow” a car from my garage last year …

I hugged Ray’s arm and willed my worries away. “Yes, it is.”





Two weeks later Ray and I stood on our front porch with Danny as his father carried Danny’s new suitcase to the old gray Cavalier left to him by his aunt. The way the car bucked and snorted as it idled, I feared it might not make it back to Newark.

A foot of snow had blanketed the town last night. The air had chilled our cheeks red seconds after we stepped outside to say our final goodbyes.

I grabbed Danny’s jacket lapels and pulled them tighter around his neck. “Call us once in awhile and let us know how you’re doing. We want to hear from you.”

Danny nodded but didn’t meet my eyes.

I let go, thinking I was embarrassing him.

Ray pulled Danny into a hug. “Be a good kid. Make good choices. Follow the rules.” He let go of Danny and bent down to look him in the eye. “And know we’re here for you, whenever you need us.”

I gazed skyward, trying to contain the tears that threatened. As soon as Danny left, I planned to tell Ray in no uncertain terms, no more foster children. I couldn’t take the heartache again. Problem was Ray might start in on me about having a child of our own again. Given the way everything had been going lately, that idea appealed to me less and less, not that it ever really had.

A few good things had occurred. Danny’s father had gotten a job as a dishwasher. He’d also gotten a tutor from Literacy Volunteers. Two steps in the right direction.

He and Danny had already sold the Cadillac Escalade for thousands below sticker price. But the money would help.

Unfortunately, the house in Newark had come with a hefty mortgage and a home equity loan to be repaid. Danny’s father had said they would have to sell it. He hinted that the house wouldn’t sell for as much as the bank was owed. I couldn’t quite figure out how such a thing had happened. It made no sense to me that Danny’s aunt had borrowed more money than she could repay. It also made no sense to me that the bank had lent it to her. That sounded criminal. But then, lots of things don’t always make sense to me.

It did make it all the more painful to let Danny go. His future didn’t look as bright as we’d originally thought.

His father seemed cheerful enough. He came back to the porch and shook Ray’s hand one more time.

I reached for Danny and hugged him tight. “You’re welcome here anytime.”

He hugged me back. Tight. It took him a few seconds to let go.

When he followed his father down the sidewalk, he looked back. I thought I saw tears in his eyes.

Of course, I might have been fooled by all the tears in mine.

____


We had to make some adjustments to our Christmas plans, what with the addition of Maury to our family.

In the years when Ray and I had been separated, Erica and I had spent Christmas with my best friend Isabelle, her husband, and my godchild Cassidy. Last Christmas I’d spent with Noelle, the only Christmas I’d ever spend with her.

I would miss Danny, but I’d expected him to leave us all along. It was the unexpected departures of loved ones that I couldn’t handle.

This year, Erica had invited us to dinner, and with some hesitation and an apology to Isabelle, I had accepted. Now the day had arrived and I dressed with some trepidation. Erica had never been known to cook anything more difficult than macaroni and cheese. She’d promised us prime rib and lasagna.

I wore green and made extra heavy hors d’oeuvres just in case. Ray and I drove to my old apartment with Christmas carols playing on the radio, including my favorite “I’ll Be Home For Christmas.”

Maury greeted us at the door and took our coats into the bedroom.

Ray took in the living room and whistled.

I stifled a laugh.

Red roses were everywhere. Roses in vases on the mantel, in pitchers on the coffee table and end tables, tucked in the Christmas tree as decorations, dried and crumbled in shallow dishes as potpourri. In addition, Erica had apparently used some of her precious wine cork and bottle cap collection to make an unusual mosaic frame for her wedding photo, which looked to have been taken outside a Vegas-like chapel. I got close enough to the photo to count the two dozen red roses she had clasped in her arms.

No sign of any dish gardens potted in homemade wishing wells—not that I ever expected to see any of those again.

When Erica appeared in the kitchen doorway, she even had a rose in her hair.

Needless to say, the aroma was heady.

Erica gestured toward all four walls. “How do you like the flowers?”

“They’re amazing.”

Ray cleared his throat. “Awesome.”

Erica danced into the room, sweeping her long emerald skirt through the air. “Maury spoils me. He says I’m a domestic goddess.”

I saw Ray’s eyes bulge on that one. He was probably thinking about the fact that I taught Erica what little she knows. But I have to give the man credit, he kept it together. He got his unreadable “good cop, bad cop, anything-you-need-me-to-be cop” expression locked in place within seconds.

Maury offered us wine. Ray asked for a beer. Erica went to the kitchen to retrieve one. I followed her.

“So Maury bought all these roses for you?” A little adding machine in my head was running the numbers. No wonder they couldn’t afford to pay their whole rent.

“No, oh no, these are the ones the florist discarded. They all had black spots or wilted leaves. I just pick off the dead stuff, and they look fine to me.”

A shrine of discarded roses for my sister. I tried not to read anything into that.

In the living room, Erica delivered Ray’s beer and perched on the arm of Maury’s chair. Then the four of us sat in awkward silence, alternately eating a bite and trying not to make eye contact.

“These are good hors d’oeuvres, Jolene. Did you make them?” Maury smiled at me.

I didn’t have the heart to tell him that they came in a box. “They bake up fast.”

Ray cleared his throat and took a long swig of beer. The four of us continued to smile politely at one another. I wished I were anywhere else. Knowing Ray, he probably wished he was at work.

The flowers started to get to me. My nose twitched. Then it itched. I rubbed it. My eyes watered. I sneezed. And sneezed. And sneezed.

Erica curled her lip and offered me a tissue box. “Do you have a cold?”

“I think it’s the flowers.”

“Oh.” She glanced at Maury. “Why don’t we sit down for dinner?”

We followed her into the dining room. She swept a huge bouquet of roses off the table and stuffed them in the closet.

Maury, Ray, and I pretended not to notice.

With the first cut, the prime rib bled like it was still alive. I half expected to hear it moo in protest. The lasagna noodles were still brittle. Erica had tried the “no boil” method and forgotten to add extra water.

The salad looked good until it ended up swimming in the blood on my plate from the prime rib. I tried not to let my disgust show, but my expression betrayed me as usual.

Ray looked at me and buttered a roll with great care, as though it might be the only thing he planned on eating tonight.

Looking from one of us to the other, Erica burst into tears then ran into the bedroom.

Maury chased after her. I thought about joining him, but it didn’t seem to be my place anymore. He’d have to be the one to reassure Erica from now on that he loved her, whether she could cook or not. For a second, I felt like I’d lost something important. Then I started to feel tremendously relieved, as though a huge burden had just transferred from me to someone else. But I felt guilty for thinking of Erica as a burden, even though she was—on occasion—a weight heavy enough for an entire mule train.

Ray offered me half his roll. “Let’s invite them to dinner at our house next year.”

I smiled at the man who loved me. “It’s a plan.”

Maury reappeared five minutes later, shoulders slumped and red-faced. Our coats were in his hand. “I think the pressure of entertaining has been too much for my wife. Would you excuse us?”

We were being sent home.

I took a minute to pack up my remaining hors d’oeuvres.

In the car, I fed them to Ray as he drove. “I’m sorry.”

“Why are you sorry? You didn’t ruin dinner.”

“I accepted her invitation. I should have known better.”

Ray shrugged. “You had to give her a chance. From now on, we’re busy if she invites us for dinner.”

But right now we didn’t have anything to do for the rest of Christmas Day. Or anything more to eat. And all the restaurants in Wachobe were closed, as was every business. We were the only car on Main Street.

I thought for a second. “Do you want to drive by the park and look at the town Christmas tree?”

“Good idea.”

A few minutes later, Ray pulled up next to the park on Main. In the center of it, a white band gazebo overlooked the lake, where the water had begun to freeze along the shoreline. A twelve-foot evergreen lit with clear lights and covered with enormous red and gold ornaments shone brightly in the dusk.

My eyes filled with tears. I had found Noelle under that tree last year, wrapped in blankets and tucked safely into her car seat, waiting for me. She had been a precious gift. Just not one meant for us.

Ray ran his finger down my cheek. “What are you thinking about?”

“Noelle.”

“Oh.” He reached over and lifted me across the center console and onto his lap. “I miss her, too. But she’s safe and healthy and happy. I’m not as sure about Danny. I’ll miss him. I won’t have anyone to play poker with anymore.”

I snuggled into his chest. Maybe I would try to learn the game to make Ray happy. “Danny’s father seems to love him.”

“I hope he loves him enough.”

I did, too, but Danny wasn’t on my watch anymore. I’d let him go.

I wondered how Ray felt to find himself childless once again, but I hesitated to ask. I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear the answer.

I ran my finger over his lower lip. He smiled at me. “What?”

“We are without child again. You wanted at least one.” It had been his one and only condition for us getting back together. I held my breath, hoping he wouldn’t take my statement as an offer to conceive.

His gaze shifted to some distant point beyond the windshield. “I did say that. But I’m beginning to understand why you didn’t want one. There’s a lot of heartbreak and responsibility involved.”

I thought of Noelle. And a lot of joy. My lips parted, “As well as—”

“Why don’t we turn on some Christmas music?” Ray leaned forward and adjusted the dial. “I’ll Be Home For Christmas” came on again.

This was new. For once, Ray was the one who didn’t want to discuss children. I decided to respect his wishes—and count my blessings.

He cuddled me close and kissed my forehead. “This is good.”

I kissed his neck and cuddled closer to him. “Yeah.”

It was good for all of fifteen minutes until Ray’s legs started to cramp. Then I slid back into my seat and he headed the car toward home.

We drove by Asdale Auto Imports. Cory and I had strung clear lights around the showroom window and tied a bow on the …

“Stop!”

Ray hit the brakes. We lurched forward and back. Ray’s forehead just missed the windshield.

Ray peered out at the street in front of us. “What? Was it an animal?”

“No. Look!” I pointed to the shop window.

“I don’t see anything.”

“Exactly.”

The Ferrari was gone.

____


Ray called Wachobe’s chief of police, since the theft occurred technically in his jurisdiction. The chief wasn’t too happy to leave home and hearth in order to take my report, but he did. He found it most peculiar that my alarm was still activated. So did Ray and I.

From the tire tracks in the snow, we could tell someone had opened up the front doors and pulled the car out, impossible to do without either turning the alarm off or activating it, which would have brought this situation to the chief’s attention much earlier than now.

The chief asked, “Who knows your alarm code?”

Ray cocked an eyebrow at me. “You did change it, didn’t you?”

He meant since last year when the dead man ended up in the Ferrari. “Yes! Only Cory and I know. That’s it.”

Ray pointed to my purse. “Call Cory.”

Cory spent the holidays at home each year with his parents and his brother’s family. He answered on the third ring. I heard voices in the background.

I didn’t bother with any greetings. “The Ferrari’s gone from the showroom, but the alarm is still on. Do you know where it went?”

“No shit?”

“No shit, Cory.”

“I don’t know, but this is cause for celebration, don’t you think?”

I did, but I couldn’t let the police chief and Ray know.

I wished Cory a Merry Christmas and snapped the phone shut.

Ray and I drove home in silence. On the way, it occurred to me that one more person might know my alarm code, one twelve-year-old boy who I most certainly didn’t want to get in any new trouble.

Ray parked the car in our driveway. I heard singing as we got out of the car. “Do you hear that?”

Ray tipped his head, listening. “Must be carolers.”

Yes … but why did they sound like … SpongeBob?

Ray unlocked the front door of the bungalow. I stepped inside. SpongeBob was on the television, dressed in full Christmas regalia, singing with Patrick and the whole underwater gang.

Danny was on our couch.

He was eating a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. He waved it at us sheepishly. “I let myself in.”

Ray looked at the key in his hand and the lock he had just removed it from. He frowned.

But now was not the time to discuss Danny’s unique talents.

I ran over and threw my arms around Danny, kissing his forehead. “What are you doing here?”

He couldn’t meet my eyes. “My dad brought me.”

“Where is he?” I had a feeling I knew the answer.

Danny’s Adam’s apple moved up and down slowly, and I felt him tremble. “He had to go away. I don’t know where. Is it okay if I stay with you for a while? He didn’t think you’d mind.”

I wondered if the man ever planned to come back. I was positive he had my Ferrari. I knew Ray must have thought the same, so I was surprised when he made no move to call the police chief and fill him in.

Surprised and relieved. Mr. Phillips was welcome to the Ferrari. I would much rather have Danny. Apparently so would Ray.

I pulled Danny close. “We don’t mind. We don’t mind at all.” I looked up at Ray and waited.

He smiled with genuine happiness. “Danny, you know you’re my favorite poker buddy. You’re welcome here anytime.”

Danny stopped trembling and a big grin took over his face. “You really meant it? I wasn’t sure.”

Ray leaned in to ruffle Danny’s hair. “One thing you can be sure of, Danny. Jolene and I mean everything we say.”

____


We spent the rest of the afternoon playing poker, listening to Christmas carols, and eating peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and brownies that I baked and covered with green-tinted frosting. After I tucked Danny in for the night, he called out to me as I was about to close the door.

“Yes, Danny?”

“I almost forgot. Dad told me to give you a message.”

I hoped it wasn’t a clue as to where to find the Ferrari. I’d already done my happy dance alone in our bedroom while Ray and Danny set up the poker game.

In fact, I wasn’t even going to ask Danny if he gave his father my alarm code. Because then I would have to thank him.

I stepped inside Danny’s room and flicked on the light switch. “What is it?”

Danny sat up in bed and rubbed his eyes. “I didn’t really understand it.”

“What did he say?”

“He said ‘Tell Jolene I was thinking college fund.’”

TheEnd





About the Author


Lisa Bork lives in western New York and loves to spend time in the Finger Lakes region. Married and the mother of two children, she worked in human resources and marketing before becoming a writer. For more information, please visit her website at www

.LisaBork.com.

Bork belongs to The Authors Guild; Mystery Writers of America; Sisters in Crime; and her neighborhood bookclub, the Thursday Evening Literary Society. Her debut novel, For Better, For Murder, was a 2009 Agatha Award finalist for Best First Novel, and the second book in her Broken Vows mystery series, For Richer, For Danger, was released in September 2010.