Kill Me If You Can

26

Joel and Samantha took over in the kitchen while I retrieved Missy and the kids from the crawl space.

“I’m so sorry about this,” I said, offering my hand.

Melissa grabbed on and climbed out with the baby. Hannah came next, her little fingers clenching mine. As I hoisted her into daylight, I noticed she couldn’t have weighed more than forty pounds.

“You’re a lifesaver, Tish,” Missy said. “I should have left Drake a long time ago. But I didn’t know how.”

“It’s never too late to do the right thing.” I was a little weirded out by all the optimistic mumbo jumbo coming from my lips lately.

We entered the kitchen. The smell of chili sauce and hot dogs sent my taste buds soaring. “Are we seriously having Sam’s Coneys tonight?” My stomach gurgled in anticipation. Samantha was held in high regard throughout the Detroit Metro area for the amazing Coney dogs served in her hole-in-the-wall restaurant.

Joel nodded. “I think I’ve met my match. Samantha threw supper together in all of five minutes. And boy, does it smell good.”

“You aren’t going to believe just how good,” I said, rubbing my tummy. “I don’t even eat hot dogs, but I’ll eat a Sam’s Coney and maybe even ask for seconds.”

“Enough, already.” Sam banged the spoon on the edge of the pot. “Let’s eat.”

Joel attacked his hot dog with vigor. On the next bite, his hot dog attacked him, earning squeals of laughter from Hannah and Andrew. Samantha got in on the fun, and I watched, enchanted, the new love kindling before my eyes.

I looked away. Where had my love gone? I’d left my one best hope in Rawlings, a love gasping for life and nearly dead from lack of proper care and feeding. I forced down my Coney, close to tears from the memory of Brad sitting next to me on a red stool at Sam’s Diner. That first Coney had melted in my mouth, the delicious foretaste of a relationship comprised of down-to-earth goodness topped off with the zest of hot chili.

And I’d run from it. Too much goodness. Too much zest. I couldn’t face the possibility that someone might actually love me. So here I was. Alone, comforted by the knowledge that nobody could get to my heart. No one could hurt me.

Big whoop. Where was the thrill in that? Where was the adventure, the daring, the attitude that I deserved the best life had to offer and I was going after it?

I swallowed hard and tamped down the rebel cry. There was nothing wrong with guarding my heart. It wasn’t something to whip out and let others stomp all over. It was delicate, fragile, kind of feeble even. As great a guy as Brad was, it seemed like everything he said, everything he did brought acute emotional agony to my underdeveloped heart. I wasn’t ready for a relationship. That was all there was to it.

“Excuse me,” I mumbled and left the group to their joyous supper. Even Missy was nearly on the floor with laughter as Joel and Sam souped up their comedy routine.

I slunk to my room and set my cell phone on the bedside table. Just dial the phone, Tish, I chided myself. It’s never too late to make a fresh start.

Picking up the cell, I passed it back and forth from hand to hand. It barely weighed anything. Yet it had the power to mend disconnected lives. I hit a button at random. The unit beeped and lit up. It would be simple to press Menu and then press Brad’s name. The phone would ring, he would answer, we’d talk and laugh like two adults who admired and respected one another, then we’d hang up and go on with our lives. Five hundred miles apart.

I put the phone down. It was no use. There was no future for the two of us. He lived there. I lived here. He was a cop. I was a convict. Where could the two paths intersect for the happily-ever-after I craved?

More laughter from the kitchen. It seemed foolish to sit up here and pout over something I couldn’t do anything to change. I pasted on a smile and went back downstairs.

I did my best to participate in the revelry. A little while later, Melissa went up to put the kids to bed. The rest of us cleaned the kitchen.

“What happened with Stick today, Joel?” I asked as I dried dishes.

“He figured Melissa came here. Maybe I convinced him she didn’t, but I doubt it. Gerard’s going to take the night shift. I’ll take the day shift. It’s hard to say what’s going to happen.”

“Feels like the Alamo around here,” Sam said and flicked some dish bubbles at Joel.

“Hey.” He laughed and sent them back in her direction. “Things will be fine. These guys aren’t going to do anything too daring. They’re a bunch of pussycats as long as Drake’s in jail. But once he’s out . . .” Joel tapered off as Melissa entered the room.

“He’s going to kill me,” Missy said, finishing Joel’s thought.

“We’re not going to let that happen.” Samantha put her arms around Melissa.

“That’s right.” I circled them both in a hug. “All for one and one for all.”

About nine p.m., the night shift arrived. We said good night to Joel and welcomed the gruffer Gerard. As Melissa and Sam shuffled off to bed, he lit a fire and pulled the armchair up to the fireplace. I leaned near the staircase, watching him as he stared into the flames, losing himself in some far-off memories.

“Well, good night,” I said, hesitant to break his trail of thought.

“Good night, cuz.”

“So, you’re not really worried anyone’s going to hurt us, are you?” I edged closer to the warmth.

“Maybe.”

“Maybe, what?”

“Maybe someone will try to hurt you, but I’m not going to worry about it.”

“Great. Thanks. I’ll sleep better now.”

“You asked me a question. Don’t expect me to lie to you just so you can sleep better,” he said.

“Of course not. Just so long as you don’t fall asleep,” I replied.

“Good night, Tish.”

“Night.” I padded upstairs and hopped in my snuggly twin bed. I marveled at the incongruity of having a drug dealer for a bodyguard. A good long time passed before I fell asleep.

Morning came and I felt like a flu pandemic survivor. The events of the past days had settled into my very bones.

I lay in bed listening to thumps and bumps in my normally silent home. A little voice drifted up the staircase. I flung back the covers, antsy to see Hannah’s smiling face and cuddle Andrew’s pudgy body. I stuck my feet into fuzzy slippers and headed downstairs. Coffee hit my nose the instant I opened my bedroom door. I heard laughter. Smelled bacon. Felt the love that only being part of a family could bring. My smile grew broader as I approached the kitchen. Maybe it wasn’t so bad having a houseful of guests. I kind of liked the feel of happy chemicals floating around in my brain.

“Morning!” Samantha’s hundred-watt smile lit the room.

The stove clock read 7:30. “You guys are getting an early start,” I said.

Melissa fed a spoonful of something white and lumpy to Andrew. “The kids are always up by six.” The bags under her eyes seemed to darken as she said it.

“And I’ve got my first official full day of work today.” Samantha slipped on a button-up tunic with “Silvan Bay Grille” embroidered beneath a flopping perch.

“How’s that working out for you?” Gerard asked from a stool, sipping on coffee and blinking hard.

“I love it. I don’t have to worry if I ordered enough food, if the wait staff is feuding, or if we served enough Coneys to pay the bills. At the Grille, I just help customers feel like I’ve got nothing better to do than make their experience extraordinary.” She gave a crooked smile. “Which is pretty much the truth. Bye, all!” With a wave and a fling of the kitchen door, she was gone.

Sam’s absence left a gash in the continuum. Without her, we all drifted our separate ways, Missy and the kids to their second-floor haven, me to work on getting one more bathroom up and running. At some point, I heard a car arrive and Gerard’s diesel depart during the changing of the guard.

Midafternoon, I hit a remodeling “wall” and had to quit my efforts for the day or end up dumping water or breaking a lightbulb on account of brain fatigue.

With the sun shining and temps in the upper sixties, I decided it was the perfect day for a pony ride. The thought of my new horse brought a gush of excitement.

My grandfather waved to me from the front porch as I pulled in the circle drive. He and Olivia sat in a double swing together, taking life at a leisurely pace.

“Hi, Grandma Olivia. Hi, Puppa.” I walked up and leaned against the rail.

“Off work so early?” Olivia asked in her quavering voice.

“I finished cleaning and I thought I’d take a break.” I leaned close to her and gave her cheek a kiss.

“Oh? So you’re a housecleaner?” she asked.

“She doesn’t have a job, Mother,” Puppa explained. “She’s fixing up the old lodge.”

“Doesn’t have a job?” Olivia sounded indignant. “Don’t seem right to me.”

Her criticism wiggled its way through my armor. “Well, technically, that is my job. I fix houses and sell them for a profit.”

“Sell the lodge?” Olivia turned and gaped at my grandfather. “Did you know that when you let her buy the place?”

“Calm down, Mother. No one has used the lodge in years. I figured Patricia was the best one to get a hold of the place. At least she’s family.”

Olivia cocked her loaded finger my way. “That was my father’s lodge, young lady. That stays with blood. I didn’t hand Belmont property over to the Russos just to see it get sold off before I’m even dead.”

“You’re a Belmont?” I couldn’t believe in some roundabout way I was related to that jerk Drake.

Puppa squeezed his mother’s shoulders gently. “The Belmonts and Russos have always been big names on the peninsula.” He met my eyes. “When Olivia Belmont married Philippe Russo, two families that had been divided by hatred were now united in marriage.”

“Yes, I only wish someone would have told Philippe the feud had ended.” Olivia’s eyes teared up even as she smiled.

My grandfather held her closer.

She struggled free. “Don’t change the subject. That lodge belongs to my father. You are not to sell it, young lady.”

“Mother, your father built a shack that stood where the kitchen stands now. Dad built the lodge as it is today.” Puppa kept his voice slow and steady.

“All the more reason for it to stay with the Russos. And if that girl”—she jabbed her finger at me—“isn’t going to have children, then it should go to Joel or Gerard.”

“That girl is my direct descendant and has more right to the lodge than anyone else, with or without children.”

Olivia’s jaw set. “The worst day of my life was the day your son brought that Beth girl around. If it hadn’t been for her, Sid would still be here. And so would Jake.”

“That’s too dramatic, Mother.” Puppa helped her to her feet and began the walk inside. I followed behind.

“Besides,” he said, helping her into the living room glider, “you liked Elizabeth from the moment you met her.”

“Maybe so. But I changed my mind since.”

“I’m taking Patricia outside for a while. I’ll check back on you in a bit.” He kissed the top of her head.

We scooted out the side door.

“My goodness, you’re patient,” I said laughing as we veered toward the barn.

“It took years to hone my ability to stay out of her drama. Poor Mother feeds on gossip and criticism. I don’t get mad at her for it anymore because I realize she doesn’t know any different. And I can’t make her change. Only she can do that.”

I hopped on the bandwagon. “My grandma Amble was the same way. It was as if she had to hate everything. Nothing was good enough for her. I’m afraid I took it personally. I think I’m still getting over the way she tore everything, including me, to shreds.”

He nodded. “It’s a pretty widespread phenomenon, actually. It’s a family condition—or should I say a human condition. If you don’t get treatment, you stay sick.”

“Are you joking?” I stumbled in a rut on the lawn.

“Nope. I couldn’t be more serious. I’ll be in treatment for the rest of my life.”

I couldn’t catch what he was getting at.

“How do you get treated for a human condition? It’s not like there’s a cure for that or anything. I mean, we’re human. Period.”

“Technically you’re right. But there’s a loophole. Christians call it salvation. ‘For God so loved the world,’ and all that.” His voice dropped lower, as if he was shy to speak of his faith.

Grass swished against my shoes as we cut past the garage. “Yeah,” I said. “Thank God for a loophole.” Goodness knew, people like me needed a Get to Heaven Free card in their wallets. I frowned as I kicked the fluff off dandelions with my feet. “Except I have a hard time believing that I only have to believe. It seems like I should have to earn my salvation.”

“I used to feel the same way. Because of my upbringing, it took a twelve-step program to get the smoke out of my eyes.”

I tensed. Twelve-step program? Didn’t that have something to do with drug addiction? I kept quiet, like I hadn’t really heard him.

“It saved my life, Patricia. It could change yours too.”

So he thought I needed “treatment.” I cleared my throat as we reached the barnyard, trying not to be offended. “I’m doing really good right now. Things are under control. God and me have it all covered.”

He nodded. “Let me know if you ever want to know more.”

“Sure. Absolutely.” I bolted through the white fence and raced toward my horse. “There’s my Goldie Locks,” I said, rubbing on her face. Behind me, I could feel my grandfather’s stare. I brushed it off. There was nothing wrong with my way of seeing things. I didn’t need twelve steps. Life was great just the way it was.

But somewhere at the back of my mind, a little voice whispered, Liar.