I looked up at him, a thousand questions on my tongue.
“At the fire station?” Camille sidestepped me to ask. Her eyes were wide and frightened and I knew she was dying to ask if Mathias was working tonight – he was also a part-time volunteer firefighter. Camille and I both knew she would respond no less intensely to Mathias than I had to Case, were their paths to cross, and we had no real idea in what condition Mathias might exist in this life. If he existed at all; neither of us had been successful at guessing the pin code on the second phone, therefore unable to scroll through Camille’s current list of contacts.
I tucked hair behind my ears, shedding my coat, struggling to maintain a casual air as I guided Clint toward the kitchen before he could answer Camille. Keeping my voice low, I asked him, “Does Mathias Carter still work with you, Clinty?”
“Huh?” Clint grabbed a tote bag from the corner, totally oblivious.
“You know, Bull’s son…” I gambled on the chance that Clint would indeed know Bull.
“Oh, yeah, right. I don’t think he’s worked at the fire station since he was a teenager, like way before my time. I haven’t seen him since last summer when his family was up here visiting.”
Camille, on our heels, had overhead.
Shit, shit, shit. Fuck.
“His family?” she parroted, unmistakable panic riding high in her voice now.
Do something, I thought. But other than knocking her out to avoid hearing Clint’s response, no useful ideas sprang to mind.
Camille grabbed Clint’s left elbow in a two-handed death grip, preventing his forward motion as she demanded, “His family?”
Clint seemed vaguely startled at her intensity but he answered gamely enough, with a brief shrug. “Yeah, his wife and kids. He lives somewhere in the Twin Cities. Has since college.”
Camille turned away and disappeared down the hall leading to the bathroom without another word.
Clint watched her go with surprise rolling from him in waves. “What’s with her?”
“You girls want something to eat?” Mom asked, entering the kitchen and gesturing at the table, where three plates of half-eaten food shared the surface with a bowl of salad and bottles of condiments. “I’m sure you’re starved. I can fry up a few more burgers.”
“No, we already ate.” I leaned backward against the counter, radiating anxiety with all the subtly of a radio tower; from what I could gather, Mom and Aunt Jilly lived here together. “You two go ahead and finish up.” I crossed my arms, applying pressure to my leaping innards. Another minute of this and Mom and Aunt Jilly would know something was off. Way, way the hell off.
“I gotta run,” Clint said, hefting the tote over his wide shoulder as he headed for the door. “See you guys later!”
Aunt Jilly reclaimed her chair and her drink. “What will it take to get you to stay here permanently, too, Tish?”
I acted as though I knew what she meant, nodding encouragingly.
Mom picked up the conversational ball. “I’m so glad Camille got hired at the high school. I put in a word for her the second I heard there was a position. They’ve needed a history teacher since Delores Meeker had a stroke last month.” She smiled at Aunt Jilly. “Mrs. Meeker was old when we had her for history, so it’s no wonder…”
Camille taught history? I glanced toward the hall in search of her, but no sign; I’d heard the bathroom door close, but nothing else. I remembered suddenly that she and Mathias had once lived together in this apartment, along with Millie Jo, before their wedding.
“Why isn’t the cafe open?” I blurted. “We’re not on winter hours anymore, are we?”
Mom and Aunt Jilly both looked my way, with identical expressions of surprise.
“Are we?” I persisted.
“Hon, we haven’t kept winter hours in years.” Mom searched my eyes and I tried not to cringe at her haggard appearance. Her skin was cast in typical late-winter pallor but it was much more than that – there was no light in her eyes. Extreme thinness had taken a toll on her beautiful face, exaggerating its planes and angles. She murmured, “You must be tired.”
I couldn’t shut up. “But where does everyone go for coffee all winter? The coffee at Eddie’s is a joke. What about Dodge?” I couldn’t imagine a winter morning without Dodge Miller, Justin’s dad and the closest thing to a true grandfather I’d ever known, stopping out for coffee on the way to his job at the filling station.
I knew immediately I’d said the wrong thing.
Aunt Jilly spoke first, setting aside her glass. “Tish, what’s going on? What are you talking about?”
Concern etching her forehead, Mom adopted a tone I hadn’t heard since childhood. “Tish, sweetie, Dodge hasn’t lived in Landon in years. He left town over twenty years ago.”
My stomach acid seemed to be forming clots as they exchanged the sort of sisterly glance I knew down to my bones, the sort that encompasses an entire conversation, a deep, instantaneous communication.
“But what about Justin? Where does he work? What about their service station?” Tears built, stinging my eyes. I wanted to scream, What about Ruthann? You don’t even know Ruthann!
Footsteps sounded in the hallway and even before she appeared I sensed Camille’s intent.
“Tish.” Her quiet voice was an unswerving command and I could do nothing but nod. Hushed expectancy swelled between Mom and Aunt Jilly as they waited for Camille to continue speaking. Her eyes burned in her drawn face as she said, “We can’t keep this secret.”
Chapter Fourteen
Landon, MN - March, 2014
A HORRIBLE FEW DAYS HAD DRIFTED PAST, CASTING US upon the desolate bank of Wednesday, the nineteenth of March.
I sat at booth five in the cafe, chin in hand,
