“Dream,” she repeated. “Was that your boyfriend in California?”
I nodded.
“Things did not end well with him.”
“No.”
“What have you been thinking about regarding him?”
“Mostly about my feelings for him.” My voice cracked and tears welled in my eyes. I took a deep breath and pushed them away.
“Which were what, exactly?” Dr. Daly asked.
“Love, anger, but mostly love. Intense love.”
“More intense than the love you now have with your husband?”
I hesitated, pondering the question. The same question I’d been thinking about for some time. “It’s different than the love I have with Archie.”
“Young love is usually more intense, and all relationships are different. We don’t love two different people the same way.” Dr. Daly wrote in her notebook.
“I guess that’s true.”
She watched me. “Your relationship with Dream, was that the first serious relationship you had?”
“Yes.”
“Did you share with him about your past trauma?”
“No.”
“Have you shared it with Archie?”
I shook my head.
Dr. Daly turned her head and gazed at me. “Why do you think that is?”
“I don’t know. It’s not something I want to talk about with anyone.”
“You talk to me about it.”
“That’s different. I don’t think other people will understand.”
“Aimee, it was self-defense. You know that.”
“Yes.”
“You don’t think the men who love, or loved you, would understand what happened?”
I shrugged. “What if they don’t really love me?”
I poured another cup of coffee, grabbed my sketchbook and pencils, then sat at the kitchen table. I sketched a barn in a summer landscape. I was getting tired of the cold, snowy weather, so a warm scene appealed to me.
I was in a good mood this morning. Archie had left for school earlier than normal. I hadn’t seen him today as my schedule was a bit different, but he texted me before leaving the house. He had some paperwork he wanted to catch up on in his classroom. Now I was enjoying a quiet house and some creative time.
A text popped up on my phone, lying on the table next to me. I glanced at it. Archie. That was odd. He should be in class now.
Lock all the doors, if you are home. School is in lockdown. There was a shooting not far from the school.
What??
Lock all the doors. That’s all I know.
Strange. I went to check the doors, windows too. Everything was secure and I continued sketching. Could there have been another murder in Poplin?
The shooting turned out to be a hunter’s stray bullet, according to local gossip. John Larabe had been out rabbit hunting when he was hit. Fortunately for him he wore a bulletproof vest, unusual for a hunter, but John had proved to be an unusual guy many times in the past, so no surprise. What was surprising was that no one came forward to admit they had been hunting nearby and may have discharged the bullet, despite it being an accidental shooting.
“I can’t believe it,” Archie said, turning off the TV when the local news ended. “It was John. I talked to him and he’s okay, but wow.”
“Unbelievable,” I replied.
“What is going on in this town?” Archie paced the living room.
“I don’t know,” I agreed. “It’s crazy.”
Archie frowned and stared at me. “You never liked him.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
Archie shrugged. “I don’t know. The whole situation is very odd. First Angela, then Robin, now John gets shot? What the hell is going on?”
“Two were accidents. Angela was the only murder and they’ve arrested someone for that. Obviously, Poplin is not the quiet, serene community we thought it was.”
“Damn right.” Archie frowned. “I don’t even know if I still want to live here.”
I pursed my lips. I wasn’t going to argue with him about John and, as for the town, well I was having doubts about staying there too. If we moved, I wondered if I’d continue receiving the strange reminders of the past. Would he follow me wherever I went?
FIFTY-ONE2024
Aimee
I stopped by Debra’s house on my way to the store to drop off a basket of blueberry muffins for her and John. He was recovering from being shot, although he wasn’t injured, only bruised and sore, since he had worn the vest. Archie had encouraged me to make the gesture.
I parked my car and walked up the sidewalk to ring the doorbell. Before I could though, the door swung open and Debra stood in the doorway, smiling at me.
“Oh, Aimee!” she greeted. She held a stack of envelopes in her hand. “What a nice surprise. Let me pop these into the mailbox and then we can have some coffee. I just put a fresh pot on!”
“Sure,” I said, entering the house. I placed the muffin basket on the table. The aroma of fresh coffee filled the tidy kitchen. The house was quiet except for the hum of a television in the back bedroom. I guessed John was awake. I wouldn’t be staying long.
