I pulled her back. “No, don’t interfere.”
“He’s hitting her. We have to do something.” Sunny struggled to get away from my grasp, breaking free and giving me a disgusted look. “I’m going to help her.”
“No!” I hissed. I pushed her back against a tree, hard. Too hard.
She brushed against a sharp tree branch on the right side and it sliced her cheek. Blood appeared, running down her face.
“Dream!” she yelled, touching the wound. She pushed me away.
“I’m so sorry,” I said, feeling terrible. “I didn’t mean to do that.”
Raindrop ran past us. Jim Bob was nowhere to be seen. Sunny went around me and ran after Raindrop.
I was alone in the woods.
I hoped Sunny wouldn’t be mad at me tomorrow. Now she slept peacefully in our bed, antibiotic ointment and a bandage protecting her cut. She was angry at me when she fell asleep and I couldn’t blame her.
I didn’t want to interfere with Jim Bob’s personal relationships; I knew that would only enrage him. I couldn’t risk angering him. My secrets were worse than his and he knew it.
He had helped me bury them.
I shouldn’t have gotten rough with Sunny today. I had just wanted her to stop. Stop! She didn’t know how precarious my relationship was with Jim Bob. He and I promised to never turn on one another. Any secrets we knew about each other would go to the grave.
I looked at Sunny in blissful slumber and remembered another woman from years ago. She too had long blonde hair, although a bit darker in color than Sunny’s.
I remembered her lifeless body lying in bed.
TWENTY-NINE2023
Aimee
Later, on Saturday evening, the dining room was warm and cozy from the lit fireplace, a simple brick structure with a long walnut mantle above, displaying some of Aunt Lou’s favorite pottery pieces in bright blues and yellows. A creamy butter yellow tablecloth covered the oval walnut table, and a blue vase filled with fresh flowers from my garden, probably the last of the season, sat in the center of the table. Aunt Lou’s dark blue bone china, joined by her Depression water glasses, displayed at three place settings.
Archie had originally planned to grill and eat outside on the patio, but the day turned out cool and rainy, so we decided to make roast chicken, parmesan potatoes, and green beans and eat in the dining room. Chocolate cake with peanut butter icing for dessert. It was nice setting up the dining room, even if it was to host John Larabe.
I stared at Aunt Lou’s pottery on the mantle. She had been a talented artist in her younger years, although her money didn’t come from her time as an artist, but rather her third husband, who she always said was her favorite person in the world. Like my Archie.
She was a kind woman, and I was thankful for the care she gave me when I needed it. At the end, when I found her crumpled at the bottom of her stairs in the upscale Society Hill home that she shared with me, it was her time to go. She was frail, suffering from memory issues, and becoming increasingly dependent on me. I’d hired a daily nurse to come in to help her a few days a week, but she was unreliable, and Aunt Lou would soon have needed more care. Though it had hurt to lose my final blood relative, her fall down the stairs had been a blessing in some ways. Funny how endings were often the gateways to new beginnings.
I walked into the kitchen where Archie was checking on the roast chicken in the oven.
“How’s it looking?” I asked.
“Good. Fifteen minutes and it’s done,” he said. “Perfect timing because John should be here soon.”
“Great,” I replied, tidying the kitchen sink and loading the dishwasher.
“He’s going to be disappointed you didn’t invite Robin,” Archie remarked, looking at me.
“She wouldn’t have come. Why do you not get that she’s not interested in spending time with him?” I asked. “Or do you want to spend more time with her?”
“What?” He frowned. “No, of course not. Forget I said anything.”
“Done,” I said, heading back to the dining room.
“This chicken is delicious, Aimee,” John remarked, taking a second helping from the serving plate in the center of the table.
“Good, Archie made dinner. I made the cake last night. Team effort,” I replied.
“Well, everything tastes great,” said John, smiling.
“We’re glad you’re enjoying it,” Archie said. “And glad you could come over tonight.”
“I don’t turn down many dinner invitations, probably because I don’t get many.” John laughed. “But, I have to admit, I was hoping Robin would be here.”
Archie shot me a look from across the table. “Maybe next time,” he said.
I smiled, pierced a small potato, covered in parmesan cheese and garlic, and popped it into my mouth. Doubtful. Robin was right, we were going to have to either find her a boyfriend or fabricate one to get rid of this guy. He could not take a hint, or even several hints.
“So, how do you like living in Poplin?” John asked.
“I’m really enjoying it,” I said. “I love having all the space, and raising fresh food has always been important to me. Nothing like going out to your backyard, picking a bunch of apples and making a pie.”
“Even if the attic lights freak you out a bit.” Archie laughed.
I glared at him. “Well, we figured that out.”
I bristled, irritated by his comment. Why would he bring that up around John? Just like he shared it with Robin earlier. If we had an issue at our house, it should stay with us, not be shared with others. Why was he being such a smart-ass? I didn’t know why he found it so funny. He wouldn’t if he knew who was doing it. He would be completely freaked out if anyone from Listening Lark confronted him, especially if it was who I suspected.