Chapter Twenty-Six #2
“And you saw him?” Tasha seemed to desperately want this lifeline Bailey was offering, but she wouldn’t let herself take it because it was, after all, Bailey. “Are you sure it was him?”
Bailey thought back to that night, trying to see past the panic. “It was like him, but not him. His clothes were torn. And he was soaking wet, but at the time I had no idea why.”
“He had your side-view mirror with him,” Tasha said. “He dropped it when my mother chased him. I left it on your doorstep.”
“By the time I got home, my grandmother had it, along with the whole story of what happened. I keep telling you this had nothing to do with you. Do you believe me now?”
“So have you been seeing him out there, or not?”
Suddenly, something clicked. What really happened to Clutch eight years ago was more complicated than either she or Tasha could have imagined.
Mim had been telling her all this time there was nothing to worry about, that he was gone.
But then she had distracted Bailey with a love story because she knew that would keep her from asking too many questions.
Bailey handed the towel back to Tasha. “No, he wasn’t out there. I’m sorry I scared you. I need to talk to my grandmother.”
Tasha watched Bailey run in the rain back to the Wester House. As soon as she was safely inside, Tasha closed the laundry room door with a quiet snap.
She stood there, her hand on the doorknob, trying not to cry.
She would not cry.
She had cried over her mother enough. She was done.
She angrily wiped away her tears and found another nightgown in the dryer. She donned it, and then she put her wet nightgown and the towels in the washing machine, starting a small load.
She leaned back against the washer, taking deep breaths.
After a moment, she stopped and put her hand on her stomach.
She could smell butterscotch and vanilla, the happiest scents she knew.
It reminded her of first grade, when her teacher Mrs. Marshburn threw a classroom party for every student on their birthday.
For Tasha’s birthday, there were butterscotch cupcakes with vanilla frosting, and she got to wear a paper crown all day.
It had made her feel so seen. It was the only unchaotic childhood birthday Tasha could remember.
“Am I happy?” she asked out loud.
“Tash?” She turned to see Gary standing in the doorway of the laundry room, looking sleepy and warm. “Why are you doing laundry at this time of night?”
“Um, there were wet towels. I didn’t want them to sour,” she said helplessly.
“Do we need to talk, Tash?” he asked seriously.
She nodded.
“Just say it. I can take it.”
She couldn’t look at him, at all she could be losing, so she took his hands in hers and stared at them. “I’m pregnant. I don’t know how it happened. I mean, obviously I know how it happened. But I want it, Gary. If you’re not okay with that, I understand. But there’s no going back for me.”
Whatever he’d been expecting, it wasn’t that. “Not okay with it? How could you say that? Tasha, look at me.”
She finally did.
He had the most incredible smile on his face. “That,” he said, “is the best news I’ve ever had in my entire life.”
“It is?”
“Yes.” He laughed and embraced her. “I’m not getting any younger, you know,” he whispered into her hair.
Tasha clung to him. Her life had been a series of panic and worry, so she had never known what relief smelled like. She discovered in that moment that it actually had no scent at all.
Which was the whole point.
Bailey walked down the foyer hallway, her wet shoes squishing. She stood outside Mim’s bedroom door for a long time.
She finally knocked. “Mim, open up.”
There was no reply. She was reaching for the doorknob when it opened and there was Mim. She was so pale and ethereal that Bailey could almost see through her.
“You figured it out,” she said, as if with admiration.
Bailey nodded.
Eight years ago
Willamena sat up in bed. She thought she’d heard something outside, voices.
“What’s going on?” she asked Jack.
“Someone yelled Citizen’s arrest. Is that a real thing?” he said. “I thought it was only in movies.”
She put her head back on the pillow. Still, there was this feeling. She couldn’t shake it. She finally reached for her bottle of sleeping pills. They would rid her of this portentous feeling.
That’s when there was a knock.
She waited several seconds.
Another knock.
She got up and quickly put on her robe. She started down the hallway, not realizing until she was in the foyer that she was still holding the pill bottle. She pocketed it and opened the door to find Clutch Vallow on her doorstep, completely soaked.
She didn’t react. She’d learned that from her grandmother. If she remained calm in any confrontation, the true feelings of others eventually rose to the surface. She only had to wait with a perspicacious look, and the other person eventually broke.
He tried to wait her out. He, too, was used to being in control. He finally said, “Willamena Wester, answering her own door? Can’t afford the help? Fallen on hard times?” He pushed the door open and limped past her into the foyer. He was carrying some sort of car part.
Jack said from beside her, “Steady, Wills.”
“Times are going to get a lot harder for you. I’ll tell you that for nothing. Go get Bailey’s father. We need to talk, man to man.”
She stared at him as he dripped all over her floors. “Why are you wet?”
“Because some crazy woman just chased me into the creek,” he said, limping into the living room. He looked around, taking everything in.
“If you don’t leave now, I’m calling 911.”