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divorce,
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teen,
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kindly. Heâd asked me if I still had teeth and when Iâd stared up at him in an uncomprehending fog, heâd said, âYou havenât smiled in so long I couldnât remember, tomboy.â And Iâd actually giggled.
âHi, Justin!â my son said brightly, on his knees in the third row of seats, which were vinyl and hot as hell under the broiling summer sun.
Justin ducked to peer into the wagon and said, âHey there, buddy. You make a mess on the carpet, or what?â
Clinty laughed, his blue eyes sparkling. He said, âNo, Grandmaâs dogs are potty training.â
I laughed a little, adding, âYou know those pups Eddie had for sale? Mom took two.â
âThe retrievers? God, they were cute as hell,â Justin said, loading the cumbersome machine swiftly and easily. Heâd grown a goatee this summer, making him seem almost like a stranger. The tall, dark and handsome one that a fortune teller might warn you about. I mentally rolled my eyes at myself. Justin went on, âHe had them in a cardboard box in the bar for a couple of nights.â
âYeah, thatâs where Mom and Ellen spied them,â I confirmed, shading my eyes, the better to see him.
He grinned, bracing one wrist on the edge of the open hatchback. He speculated, âThose two out on the town?â
I smiled in return, replying, âThey wanted to hear the music last Friday. So they said, anyway. They drove the golf cart and came back a little tipsy, actually.â
Justin laughed and shook his head.
âAnd Elaineâs house is on the market,â I told him, feeling a momentary shadow over my heart. âI told her Iâd get in there and clean the carpets this week.â
Justinâs black eyebrows knitted together as he regarded me solemnly for a moment, his smile gone. He asked, âShe moved up to International Falls to live with her cousin, right? I thought Dad had said that.â
I nodded and at that moment a horn honked from somewhere behind us.
He said, âGuess thatâs my cue to get my ass moving.â
I still had trouble disguising my dislike for his wife, and commented, âShe canât just come over and say hello, too?â
Justin lifted his eyebrows this time, perhaps amused at my tone, but only said, âNah, weâre heading over to Bemidji tonight, and she wants to get going.â
Oh , I mouthed, then gathered myself together. It was none of my business. I added, âWell, thanks, Justin.â
âAnytime,â he said easily and jogged back in the direction of Aubrey the bitch. I drew in a breath and then turned to my kiddo, forcing a bright smile.
July, 1998
Dodge was running across the parking lot.
I noticed this from my vantage point on the porch, where I was in the middle of taking orders from a six-top. Not only was it unusual for him, but heâd just been mowing the lawn, and now suddenly his every movement suggested panic. I dropped my order pad on the table, to the surprise of my customers, and darted into the café, calling, âMom!â
Mom met me halfway across the floor and caught me in a hug; for a moment bile rose up the back of my throat and I was unwittingly pitched back to that horrible February night more than seven years ago. Shaking, I pulled away and asked, âWhat?â
âItâs Justin,â she said, and her throat was raw-sounding. âI donât knowâ¦â
My heart banged hard, then harder. Heâd just been in here a few hours ago for coffee with Dodge, and I focused on that image of him, hale and whole. What in the hell could have happened in the intervening hours?
In a voice I barely recognized I asked, âWhat do you mean?â
She shook her head and I turned to watch as Dodgeâs car burned rubber getting out of the parking lot; the Charger roared away and left us standing in shock. This time I demanded, âWhatâs going on?â
Mom said,
Kit Tunstall, R.E. Saxton