JOSIE
I never thought I’d see the day when Grandma’s enemy would be smoking on her porch.
Yet here she is, Donna Snickett, doing just that. Her deadly stare is on my car as I slowly drive by and park under the carport. The chief’s car is parked in the back alley. I’m not sure whether this scenario is good or bad.
I approach her warily, certain something is going on in the house.
I think the glare is permanent on Mrs. Snickett’s face.
Just like her clothes. Same gray beanie on her head.
Same knee-length blue parka I see her wearing in the cold months in her front yard.
Same fingerless gloves, one hand in her pocket, the other holding a cigarette close to her tightly pressed lips.
“Mrs. Snickett,” I greet her as I step to the side door she’s blocking with no intention to move. “Are you…”
Is she visiting? Is she here to rattle Grandma? Considering the chief is here, this looks like an old-timers’ meetup, and that’s already strange, because Grandma and Mrs. Snickett haven’t talked in almost three decades.
“Are you visiting Grandma?” I ask shyly.
She’s intimidating, smelling like old tobacco and stale booze, and looks like she’s about to punch me. While I side-eye her, she stares bluntly.
“What does it look like?”
Her voice is raspy. I haven’t heard her talk in years since the last time I saw her, sometime in high school.
“Is the chief inside?” I ask, because she still doesn’t step aside to let me through.
“Do you see his car?”
“Yeah, in the back alley.”
She raises her brows in a silent, See? What does that tell you?
She is a fistful of bitterness.
“Can I go in?” I ask, annoyed by her unnecessary hostility.
“Do you need my permission?” she quips dryly, takes a slow puff off her cigarette, and exhales a cloud of smoke.
“Well, you are blocking the door.”
I think I hear a little snort escape her. At this point, I’m not surprised Grandma hasn’t talked to her in decades. I wouldn’t either.
She takes a half a step aside, not enough to let me in. I pull the screen door handle, and only then does she move farther, staring me down as I walk in.
As soon as I walk into the closed patio, the door to the kitchen opens, and the chief steps out.
“Hey, kiddo,” he says, giving me a once-over. “You all right?”
“I am. You?”
He flicks his brows, his lips curving downward in uncertainty. His eyes don’t leave me as he blocks the kitchen door. I swear, everyone is on my case today.
“Anything new going on?” he asks, and I know why he’s asking, but I don’t have any news about the stranger.
I shake my head. “What about you?”
He only chuckles, looks away, and pats me on the shoulder as he pushes his way past me and out the door.
Thanks for nothing, Chief.
Grandma sits at the kitchen table, her eyes downcast, her hands clasped. There are three empty coffee cups on the table. It was a reunion, indeed.
“You all right, Grams?” I ask.
She doesn’t raise her eyes as I pull my parka off. Something’s not right, I can tell, and I hope it’s not another episode.
“Grams?” I duck my head like that will help me see her face better. It’s blank. Or she’s concentrating or gathering herself.
“Take a seat, Josie,” she says softly. “We need to talk.”
That we do. I hang my parka on the back of the chair, then take a seat.
The chief being here means he’s told her about the kidnapping, my involvement, and the text messages from the stranger. Grandma won’t be angry at me for not telling her, I know that. But she’s upset, though she does a good job hiding it, as always.
“You should’ve told me,” she says.
That’s one hell of a way to start a conversation. I play dumb. “About?”
She raises her eyes to me, and they are soft and concerned. “About the woman you found. But more importantly, about the person who texted you.”
“You should’ve told me more about the past so I didn’t have to get answers from strangers.”
Grandma’s lips tighten. She looks even more tired today. “Want some coffee? Tea?”
I start getting up when she stops me. “Sit down, Josie.”