Kill Me If You Can

19

I dialed the phone, feeling like an errant schoolgirl about to get yelled at by the principal.

“Hello?” Brad’s voice came at the other end of the line.

“It’s me. Tish.”

“Are you okay? What’s going on up there?”

“I’m fine.” I sighed and rested my forehead against a kitchen cabinet. “Sorry I didn’t call earlier, I’ve been a little distracted.”

“I can imagine.”

“You can?” My shoulders relaxed. “Thanks for being so understanding. Officer Segerstrom said you were pretty worried.”

“I want to be there for you, but I’m stuck down here. I hate that.”

I swallowed a lump in my throat and dragged my emotions away from the abyss of self-pity. I put on a smile. “Well, you’re here for me now. Thanks for caring.”

I looked out the kitchen window at the smoking debris as I told him the details of the afternoon, leaving out the fireman’s assessment that the arson was meant to be a warning.

Brad listened in silence. “Why didn’t you tell me you’d witnessed a drug deal and that some dealer’s wife had come to you for help?”

My heart skipped a beat. He’d been talking to Officer Segerstrom. “I didn’t want you to worry.”

“Well, I am worried. I thought we were closer than that. I thought you could confide in me. What else haven’t you told me?”

“Nothing. That’s it. That’s all there is and it’s nothing, really.”

“A guy tries to run you over with his four-wheeler and that’s nothing?”

“Don’t try making me feel worse than I already do. We live a long way apart now. There’s just some stuff that’s not worth bringing up.”

“Not worth it, huh? Why do you think that?”

“Listen to you. You’re all worked up over this. That’s why I don’t mention it.”

“I might not be so worked up if you would have told me about it back in February.”

“You know, I’m doing my best.” The decibels rose. “This long-distance relationship stuff—no, this relationship stuff—doesn’t come naturally. I’ve never been very good at it. It’s not as if I’ve had much practice, you know. Look how I botched things up last time around.” My chin launched into a perpetual quiver at the memory of my ill-fated romance with David Ramsey.

“Come on, Tish.” Brad’s voice softened. “Don’t cry. You’re doing great. Things aren’t going to be like this forever. Hang in there.”

“Yeah? Well, when do you think things are going to change? I look ahead and all I see is year after year of you in Rawlings and me in Port Silvan—or wherever—and the only thing between us is a phone line.”

“It’s just for now. It’s just for today. It won’t always be like this.”

“How can you say that? What’s ever going to change? I don’t think I can take this much longer. I miss you. I need you. I feel like I’m going to die if I don’t see you.”

“Tish.”

“Yeah?”

“Take a deep breath.”

I breathed.

“Now, don’t take this the wrong way. But it sounds like you’re having a panic attack. It’s pretty scary what those guys did to your shed. But don’t give in to the fear.”

I nodded. “’Kay.”

“This is just a suggestion, but I think you need to get some more friends. You need to get out of the house. Get involved in a Bible study. Join an art class. Something.”

I nodded, silent.

“Tish? Are you there?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Listen, I’ll see you soon enough, the trials are almost over. But in the meantime, call the pastor and ask how you could get involved in the church.”

I sniffled.

“Will you do that?” Brad asked.

My jaw jiggled back and forth defiantly. “I feel like you’re avoiding the issue. I haven’t seen you for two months and you want to blame my feelings on a panic attack. Can’t you understand that maybe I just miss you?”

“I do understand, there’s just not anything either one of us can do about it right now, short of jumping in the car.”

“Well?” I said.

“Well, what?” he asked.

“Why don’t you jump in the car and come see me?”

“Tish. I’m employed. I don’t have that kind of flexibility. Maybe you should be the one jumping in the car.”

“I did jump in the car, back in February. I’m not about to make another road trip just when I’m getting settled in.”

“If you’re not willing to do it, why should I be willing?”

“Well, if you’re not willing and I’m not willing, then what are we even doing talking to each other on the phone? We must be the two laziest people on the planet. Too lazy to even care anymore.”

“Is that how you feel?”

“Yes, that’s how I feel.”

“Maybe we should call it off for a while,” he said.

“You can’t call off something that doesn’t even exist.”

Brad exhaled a loud breath. “I guess I’ll let you go, then.”

“You can’t let go of something you never had to begin with.”

“Tish. I just meant I’m going to hang up now. We’ll talk about it another time.”

“Yeah. Maybe.”

“Goodbye, Tish.”

“Goodbye, Brad,” I said with finality and stabbed at the disconnect, missing the button.

Panic swelled. I put the phone back to my ear. “Wait . . . Brad . . .”

Dead silence. What had I just done? Surely Brad would understand I was only talking in the heat of the moment. I hadn’t really meant those words—had I?

I sucked in one of those shuddering breaths you get after you’ve been crying awhile and felt calm return. No. I was right and he was wrong. Our relationship was forced, not natural anymore. So, we’d had some good times together. We’d been friends. But times had changed. And that was okay. Like Brad said, that was just the way things were now. It was him down there and me up here. Nobody’s fault; just the facts.

Weight lifted off my shoulders.

Everything was going to be alright. I was alone again, and alone was a good place. It felt comfortable. It felt right.

The clock read almost 6:10. The afternoon had gotten away from me and supper had come and gone. I thought of my cousin Joel and his always-delectable dinners. The thing to do was head down to the lake house and check on Olivia and the guys. I could nibble on leftovers while bidding Olivia another farewell.

But I couldn’t leave the cottage. If the arsonists saw my car driving off, they’d burn down the house next. I’d already put too much effort into the renovations to let some ragtag druggies burn it down.

I looked in the cupboards and found a box of emergency mac-n-cheese. Ravished, I ate the whole pan.

Over the next couple days, I scavenged the kitchen, determined to eat every last crumb before I abandoned my watch. Sleep was a near impossibility. All night long I heard the thud of feet outside my window, the creak of someone opening the door, the splash of gasoline on the walls. I’d get up and look, but no one was there. I’d toss and turn the rest of the night. By dawn, I’d fall into slumber, sometimes staying in bed until noon.

Sunday morning, I slept in and skipped church. The pyros had known I went to Candice’s every Thursday afternoon. Since I attended church regularly, a Sunday morning would be the perfect time to light up my house. I’d be down in Port Silvan sitting in the pew next to the entire volunteer fire department. There would be nothing left to save by the time church let out. I thought of Melissa Belmont and her sweet children and pictured them getting settled into their seats in the back row. With her husband in jail, Missy would be just fine. She didn’t need anything from me. Besides, I’d told my grandfather her situation. That was all she’d asked me to do.

My cell phone rang a few nights that week. The caller ID said it was Brad. I finally shut the phone off, not wanting to deal with the pressure of whether or not to answer.

By Wednesday, I’d eaten the last can of food in the pantry: waxed beans. I could barely swallow the bland fare, but I forced it down, starved as I was. By three o’clock, the hunger pangs kicked in again.

I gave in to primordial necessity and started up the Explorer. I thought about heading to Port Silvan, but I figured everyone in town knew my car. One call to a cell phone somewhere, and I wouldn’t have a kitchen to cook in. So I drove to Manistique instead, where I was just another face in the crowd. I shopped at full speed, stocking up with extra items this time. I raced home, searching the sky for a telltale pillar of smoke.

But everything was as I left it. I cooked myself a gourmet burger filled with onions, mushrooms, and bleu cheese. I brought it out to the deck and devoured it as the sun set. Hues of pink, purple, and orange colored the western sky. My food seemed flavorless in the presence of such beauty.

Before I went to bed, I called Candice. “Hi. I’m going to have to cancel our tea date for tomorrow.”

“Is everything okay? What’s going on?”

“Everything’s fine. I’m just running behind after the fire and I’d like to do a little catching up. How about I see you next Thursday?”

A long sigh filtered through the earpiece. “I guess so. I can’t say I’m not disappointed, though, Tish.”

“I’m sorry. Next Thursday. I promise.”

I hung up the phone, wishing I could have gone to tea if only to find out what had happened between Candice and my grandfather the day of the fire.

The lack of sleep finally caught up to me. I dozed through the night without my usual hauntings.

The next morning came warm and sunny. The authorities hadn’t been sifting through my pile of ashes in about a week. I assumed that meant Officer Segerstrom had gotten all the evidence he’d needed from the scene. Apparently, the law was leaving it to me to clean up the mess.

I stood at the edge of the coals and stared at the remains of my adorable garden shed. The metal prongs of a rake and the blackened edge of a spade poked through the cinders. Just the items I could have used to clear out the debris. My prized ladder lay blackened under the heap.

A slight breeze toyed with the back of my hair. Birds chirped in random song around me. The sun beat down with the energy to draw thin green strands of life from the earth. I sighed. Even the old push mower I’d soon need had been destroyed by the flames.

I jerked my head up at some movement off in the woods. My breathing kicked into high gear as I scanned the forest for the perpetrator. I detected a twitch. Through a maze of branches, the face of a doe came into focus. My doe.

“Here, girl.” I made the kissy sounds.

She stared at me, flicking her ears. She gave a wary toss of her tail.

“Come on,” I coaxed.

Instead of running off, she turned her head and nibbled at some twigs. We were neighbors now.

I watched her awhile, then dug my gloved hands into the coals. I hauled what charred remains I could past the bushes at the far edge of the yard. I dug out the rake head and duct-taped it to a stick. I used what was left of the shovel to scoop the pile of ashes into a bucket and dump it in the woods.

I dusted the charcoal off my gloves. A few spring downpours and all evidence of the fire would be gone. Everything except the foundation, which now had to present some other use or look like an eyesore upon the sale of my cottage.

I ran a wrist across my forehead. I hated to think about selling. I loved it here in the country. My neighbors were friendly, furry, and far between. Just the way I liked it. But short of winning the lottery, staying put wasn’t an option.

I turned at the sound of a car approaching. A blue state police cruiser pulled down the drive and parked next to me. Officer Segerstrom got out.

I nodded at his approach.

“Cleaning up, I see,” he commented.

I looked around at the foundation. “I hope you were done here.”

“I’m afraid it’s going to be tough finding the folks responsible,” he said. “But there’s always the chance that someone will talk. Then we’ve got them.”

“I appreciate your efforts.”

He took his hat off and held it. “The reason I came by is because my buddy Brad’s been trying to get in touch with you. Is something wrong with your phone?”

I pursed my lips. “Nothing is wrong with my phone.”

He gave a slight nod of his head. “Well, I suggest you answer your calls, then. We don’t make it a habit to check on shut-ins. We rely on their friends and neighbors to do that.”

I put hands on hips. “Excuse me? Shut-ins?”

He stared at me, silent.

I waved an arm. “I’ve got plenty of friends and neighbors. Brad’s not the only person who cares about me, you know.”

He kept looking at me without saying anything.

“Besides, I can’t leave,” I expounded. “They’ll probably burn down my house next.”

“Do you keep a weapon on the premises?”

I pointed to the decapitated spade. “Right there.”

“Take my advice. If they want to burn the place down, let them. Don’t try to be a hero. It’s not worth losing your life over.” He put on his cap and adjusted it. “Whatever you decide,” he said, “I think you owe Brad a call. He’s tied up in court—something about a body you dug up in your basement—so he can’t come up here himself to check on you.”

I’d forgotten about the hearings and trials that would be taking place right around now. Thankfully, the prosecution had more than enough evidence to make the convictions without my testimony.

“Brad says call him. It’s urgent.” The officer climbed in his vehicle, turned it around, and drove off.