“Wow, that’s great,” I said.

I was glad she’d had a good time, but I had bigger issues.

John.

The freak.

Last night after I slammed the door in his face, Archie went back to his group in the dining room and I stood by the side window, in the foyer, after locking the door, and watched John as he walked to his car and drove out the lane.

What the hell was all that about last night?

He thought I had something to do with Robin’s death. Was he out of his mind?

He never answered my question. Where was he when he supposedly saw me go to Robin’s house? Along the road, in the field, maybe hiding in the house?

The image of the bag of dates popped into my mind.

The bag inside Robin’s refrigerator.

Maybe I had been wrong all along with my guess of who was sending me gifts and other randoms. Maybe this was a person with a secret connection to Listening Lark who had been hiding in plain sight.

FORTY2024

Aimee

January moved in and the snow continued to fall. Archie had another snow day and was in the dining room doing a virtual school day. I glanced at the clock. Two more hours until he finished for the day.

I sat in the office, looking over our bank accounts. Everything in the accounts looked okay, but I couldn’t see the link to our investment account, and I tried to remember if it was on here the last time I checked the accounts. Maybe the bank was updating information and it would be up later. I made a mental note to check.

I leaned back in the office chair and logged out of the bank website. Archie’s voice carried over, talking about condensation and the water cycle to his class. My thoughts wandered.

I hadn’t seen John since New Year and I hadn’t wanted to, but I did have to deal with this problem. I hadn’t told Archie about what happened. I wanted to, but hesitated. Was John the one with a connection to Listening Lark? I’d gone over this a million times in my head, but I couldn’t see how it was possible. Problem was, I wasn’t sure, and I didn’t want to risk Archie learning anything about my past.

When I thought about the facts, I felt the only idea that made sense was John, being the creepy loser that he was, still mourning Robin, more the fantasy of what he thought he could have with her, even though it would never have happened, wanted someone to project that blame onto… me.

People do all sorts of crazy things, even make up stories in their minds, to validate a situation. Who knew what was going on in John’s mixed-up mind? His delusion about Robin had him thinking in all kinds of unrealistic directions, and I was an easy target to lash out on, a newcomer to this tight-knit community. As friendly as everyone had been, the newcomers were always suspected when something went awry. I had to just look at the facts as they presented themselves. The facts everyone was aware of at that time. Robin’s death was ruled accidental. There was no murder.

What should I do? I was going to see John eventually. Would it be better to wait until that happened or confront him first?

Confrontation seemed a better choice.

I parked my car in the driveway, grabbed my bag in the passenger seat, and walked up the sidewalk to ring the doorbell. The grapevine wreath still hung on the cranberry-colored front door, now with ice and a dusting of snow intertwined with the brown vines.

“Oh, hello, Aimee,” Debra greeted when she opened the door. “Good to see you.”

“Hi, Debra,” I said. “I have way too many strawberry jams. I thought you might like a couple. John mentioned how much you like it on your toast.”

“That’s so thoughtful,” said Debra. She waved me inside. “Come in, would you like some coffee or tea?”

“Coffee would be great.” I followed her into the kitchen and placed the bag of jams on the tidy counter.

“Johnny will be out soon,” she said, pouring the coffee.

“Okay.” I took the coffee and sipped it.

“How have you been, Aimee?” Debra asked. “Come sit at the table with me.”

I did and we chatted for a few minutes. Debra told me she’d celebrated her sixty-seventh birthday last week.

“You look great,” I remarked. “Definitely not sixty-seven.”

“Thank you, good genes run in the family, I guess,” she replied.

Those genes must have skipped John. I enjoyed speaking to Debra; she was such a warm interesting person. Her inviting personality reminded me of Aunt Lou in a way. She cared very much about other people and did all she could to help. That’s a rarity in this world.

“Grandma.” John walked into the kitchen wearing sweatpants and a sweatshirt. He stopped. “Aimee.”

“Hi, Johnny, Aimee was nice enough to bring over some strawberry jam for us.” Debra smiled at her grandson.

“How kind,” he replied, eyeing the jam. He walked over to the coffeepot and poured a cup.

“Aimee, I’m so sorry. I must get ready for a doctor appointment and haven’t had my shower yet. Please stay and visit with Johnny,” Debra said, standing up. She gave me a brief hug. “So wonderful to see you.”

“Good to see you too,” I replied as she walked back the hallway.

John and I sat in silence until we heard the shower turn on. He looked at me.

“I owe you an apology, Aimee,” he said. “I’m sorry.”

“Thank you,” I replied. His words shocked me. I hadn’t expected an apology from him, but I would accept it.

“I miss Robin so much, and I get kind of crazy thinking about what happened. I did see you there though.”

“Yes, I was there, and I told the police as much,” I replied. “That’s not a secret.”

He nodded. “Did you tell Archie? About what I said?”

I shook my head.

“Really, why?”

“I wasn’t sure how to handle it,” I said. “He values your friendship. If I tell him, I doubt he would be friends with you.”

“Thank you, I value him too.” John sighed.

“I accept your apology,” I said.

“So, we’re okay?” he asked.