Wild Flower (7 page)

Jesus, Jillian, what is the matter with you?

“Well thanks for the coffee,” he said, meeting my gaze once more. This time he seemed nothing but friendly. He added, “See you around,” before rising and heading outside, and seconds later was unloading gear from the backseat of his car. I stood and found myself observing as he unstrapped his canoe and hefted it over his head, before proceeding towards the lake without a backward glance. I stood watching a moment longer, second-guessing myself, while behind me Camille teased Millie and Rae about something.

He's harmless, and you're being unfair.

His eyes are fucking creepy though.

That's hardly his fault.

It's everything with Aubrey
, I decided.
You're just more worked up than normal.

“You have a second to talk before you go?” I turned around to ask Camille.

She said, “Of course. I've been wanting to talk to you too.”

“Let's go sit on the dock,” I suggested. “It's cooler out there.”

By the time we'd buckled the girls into their lifejackets and made our way down the incline to the water, I was relieved to see that Zack Dixon was well on his way across Flickertail, no more than a speck as he paddled. Camille and I settled on the end of the dock, letting our feet dangle into the water, as the girls held hands and jumped in together, proceeding to laugh and dog-paddle near our legs. Camille had stooped to pick a few of the long-stemmed daisies that bobbed their white petals near the south side of the café, and she trailed these along her neck, almost absently, her eyes fixed meditatively on the far shore.

“Your mom and I talked for awhile last night,” I said, stirring up the water with both feet.

“Mom's worried, I know,” Camille said, letting the flowers rest upon her lap. Her loose hair hung down her back in waves; the fingers of the lake breeze plucked at it gently. It tugged my heart to look upon my niece and catch subsequent glimpses of my older sister so clearly in her face, the same delicate curve of chin and nose, long-lashed eyes of rich golden-green, those Davis family eyes. I also saw hints of Jackson – the olive tone of her skin, her dark, wavy hair. Her mouth was Jackie's too, with the same curve like that of a plump willow leaf.

“Not about Mathias,” I clarified. “We all love him, I hope you know.”

Her entire face lit in a smile at my words and she tipped her chin to her shoulder to look at me. She said, “I do know. Isn't he amazing?”

“He is. But Jo is worried you're going to get pregnant before your wedding,” I tattled.

Camille giggled at my words, scooping her hair into one hand and drawing it over her shoulder. Beneath her tan, I saw the heat that spread like a wine spill across her cheeks. She said softly, “I wouldn't even mind if that happened. I mean, it would be great to be married for awhile first, but I do love the thought of having our baby.” Her eyes moved at once to Millie Jo, who was busy splashing and shrieking with Rae. “Oh Aunt Jilly. I was so sure that Millie would never have a brother or sister.”

I smoothed one hand against her back. She felt so slight and soft beneath my palm. I said, “I know exactly how you feel, sweetie. I figured Clinty would be an only child forever.”

“Clint's such a good big brother,” she replied. “And I love that he calls Uncle Justin ‘Dad.' I wish…” she paused, clearly torn, before admitting, “I wish Millie Jo could call Mathias that. He's so much more a father to her than Noah will ever be.”

“Does Millie call Noah ‘Daddy?'” I asked.

Camille said, “Not in front of me. I guess I don't help that very much…I always call him ‘Noah' when I talk about him to her. That's probably shitty of me.” Her tone was carefully hopeful that I wouldn't agree.

I said gently, “If Noah's trying, which he seems to be, then probably that's a little shitty, honey.”

She sighed and studied the far shore as she said, “I know. I should be grateful that he's trying. I think he's drinking again though.”

“He looks pretty awful every time I've seen him lately,” I said. “But that doesn't necessarily mean he's fallen off the wagon.”

“He was at Eddie's with a couple of friends, Eddie told me,” Camille said, shading her eyes as the sun increased in intensity. In a few more minutes we would have to tote out the sunscreen. “When I confronted him last week, he said he was the sober cab. But I think it's just plain stupid to put yourself in a situation like that when you've clearly got a problem.”

“You, and friends and family of alcoholics everywhere,” I said. “At least he's trying to be a part of Millie's life now. That's an improvement.”

She shrugged. “I guess. I hate that he's so worthless.”

I let that one slide, instead saying, “Your mom told me last night that Mathias came to ask her what he could do about your nightmares. He's worried about you.”

Camille's dark eyebrows arched above her eyes. She said softly, “I didn't realize he talked to Mom.”

“I wish I knew how to help you,” I told her. “I know that there's something unresolved. Something that I don't know if you have the power to change. Or mend.” I ran both hands through my loose hair, perhaps unduly troubled that I hadn't a better answer for her, but troubled just the same. I felt as though I should
know
, that something was off, and it really bothered me. I shifted on the dock boards to relieve the pressure on my tailbone, which was prone to aching when I was pregnant, finally admitting, “I feel like I'm no help at all. But I worry that this whole thing is troubling you so much.”

Camille caught her engagement ring between the thumb and index finger of her right hand, studying it in the sunlight.

“I feel like if I could find out what happened to Malcolm I could rest easier,” she said softly, her eyes moving from her hand to the far shoreline. “Who was Cora? What was he searching for? Sometimes I feel like I'm so close to knowing, right in that moment before you fall asleep, you know, when your leg jerks all of a sudden and wakes you up?”

I nodded.

She went on, “I feel like the answers are right there, and then when I come fully awake they get snapped back up inside my mind. It's exhausting.”

“Maybe you aren't ready to know them yet? Maybe your mind is protecting you from something?” I suggested.

“That's what Mathias said too,” she responded. She looked over at me, tears suddenly sparking in the corners of her eyes. “I love him so much, Aunt Jilly. That picture of Malcolm led me to him, and I will be thankful for that forever. But a part of me is scared…oh God, I don't even like talking about this…but I'm so afraid that something might happen…that I can't possibly be this happy without some sort of consequence…”

I heard the way her words were forming around a lump in her throat and I put my hand on her back once more. With as much firmness in my tone as I could muster, I said, “Camille, stop. You know what you sound like?”

She looked over at me with both tears in her eyes and the half-grudging look that my own son directed my way when he didn't want to hear what I had to say. I explained softly, “You sound like someone who hasn't had enough sleep. You need rest. You're being irrational, sweetie. If you think about it, you'll agree.”

She studied me a moment longer, then nodded. She whispered, “You're right, I know you're right. But it's almost like…”

“Like what?” I encouraged.

Her eyes darted back across the water, in the direction of White Oaks. She whispered, “I feel like…I
owe
Malcolm. God, that sounds insane.”

“It's not,” I assured her. “I understand. Would discovering what happened to him fulfill that, do you think?”

She used the back of her wrists to swipe the tears away. She said, “I'm counting on that.”

***

Later, Justin drove over from
the filling station to have lunch with Rae and me, like usual. After Camille and Millie Jo left for White Oaks, Aunt Ellen and I made bacon cheeseburgers and coleslaw, and Rae sweet-talked Mom into stirring up a batch of brownies.

“It smells amazing in here,” Justin said when he came into the café from outside, wearing a dirty work shirt and faded jeans. I met him halfway and he scooped me into a hug. I kissed his jaw.

“I hope you're hungry,” I told him, just to see his grin.

“Always,” he said.

“Daddy!” Rae came barreling through the swinging door that led to the kitchen.

“Hi, teddy bear,” he said, his voice warm with affection, catching her up into his arms. Rae giggled and Justin planted a kiss on her nose. “You been listening to Mama today?”

She nodded enthusiastically.

“Who's car?” Justin jerked a thumb over his shoulder to indicate Zack Dixon's; in a small town, we all knew one another's vehicles, and no one parked out at Shore Leave that he didn't know, not when we were closed. He clearly saw something in my eyes, as he asked in a completely different tone, “What is it, Jilly?”

Rae squirreled down and galloped back to the kitchen before I could answer, and Justin straddled a stool at the counter, then reached both arms towards me. Like a magnet to its mate I moved into his embrace, hooking my arms around his neck, my belly cushioned between us, taking a moment to simply admire. He was so masculine, so completely handsome; just the scent of his breath and his skin created spirals of longing through my entire body. He studied me, unblinking, and asked again, softly, “What?”

“There's something about him that bugs me,” I said. Even if I was being irrational, it was the truth.

Justin's dark eyebrows drew slightly together as he saw that I was serious. He asked, “About who?”

“The guy who owns that car,” I told him. In Justin's arms, what bothered me about Zack Dixon seemed insubstantial, even ridiculous. I explained, “Eddie directed him out here. At least that's what he said. He's a grad student at the college in Moorhead and he came in and had coffee with us this morning.”

“And?” he asked lightly, though under the surface his tone was fiercely protective. Even if I hadn't said in so many words, Justin could tell I was more troubled than I was allowing.

“I can't explain it exactly,” I said, smoothing my fingers over the back of his neck, where his thick dark hair formed slight curls.

“Anything else?” he asked, and I knew he meant,
Have you had a Notion about him?
I loved how he had always simply accepted my oddly-timed precognitive flashes, that he trusted in them implicitly, as I did. I debated telling him that I still felt oddly disconnected from my usual self, but then again I hadn't slept well last night and decided I would take my own advice and get some rest.

“No. I'm probably overreacting,” I admitted.

Justin bracketed my hips with his strong hands. He said, “So where is he now? What's his name?”

“Dixon,” I said. “Zack Dixon. He's out in his canoe. He asked Mom if he could park here when he puts in the water. He's collecting water samples for something.”

“How about I beat the shit out of him, just for fun?” my husband asked, moving his hands up over my ribs. I knew he was just kidding, trying to get a smile out of me.

“Because you're not seventeen anymore,” I teased back. “Getting into fights with Jackson.”

“We never fought each other. We just had each other's back. That's funny, I ran into Brent Woodson this morning and it got me thinking about the time Jackie fought him after the homecoming game, senior year…”

I giggled a little. “I remember that night. Jo was beside herself with worry. Fucking Jackie. Brent was pretty tough back then…”

“Now he's just got a beer gut from hell,” Justin interjected.

“What did he do again…he said something about Jo…”

“I don't remember anymore, but Jackie was offended, of course. God, that was a beauty of a fight,” Justin said, half-smiling at the memory. “I had to jump in because Brent brought along Mikey Mulvey. I cleaned his clock. Shit, and now he's a cop…”

“And you busted your knuckles,” I reminded him. “I remember Jo and I got there just in time to see the aftermath. You two were the triumphant victors and Jo was ready to kill Jackson.”

“I remember you being there that night,” he said, stroking his fingers through my loose hair. “I always knew where you were, even back then. I wasn't entirely aware of it, but then I'd be watching you out of the corner of my eye. My sweet little woman.”

“I watched you too,” I said, recalling well. I had known Justin since before I could remember. I slipped my palms over his broad shoulders, slowly down his back, delighting in the solid strength of him. I said softly, “But back then I couldn't touch you.”

“What about now?” he asked, low and throaty.

“Now,” and I smiled into his eyes, pressing my breasts a little closer to his chest. I murmured with soft satisfaction, “Now, I can touch you anytime I want.”

“Justin, you ready for a burger?” Mom called from the kitchen.

He blinked and then grinned at me, kissing me softly before answering Mom.

“Yes, ma'am!” he called back. “Thank you.”

Dodge joined us and we all ate on the porch before Justin and his dad headed back to the shop. I spent an hour helping Mom weed the garden and then we picked strawberries until my back was aching. Rae toted bowl after bowl up to the café.

“Strawberry shortcake on the menu tomorrow,” Mom said, swiping at her forehead with the back of her wrist, leaving a smear of dirt.

“Can I bring some home too?” I asked.

“Of course,” Mom said. “Ellen made two pound cakes, too. Why don't you grab one of those? I know how Justin loves it.”