Chapter 27
“A new letter arrived for Shirlene today,” I said to Jack. “It was pretty saucy, but, like, in a Christian Romance book kind of way.”
Jack glanced up from the table in the backyard to grin at me, then he was right back to work. I couldn’t understand why the man was in the backyard working on the table when he could be downtown getting free food and drinks.
“Sofia taped it up on the front door of the post office,” I continued. “If you want to go check it out, I mean.”
Jack shook his head without looking up, but I could see his smile under the shadow of his bent head.
There wasn’t anyone in town who wasn’t at least mildly amused or interested in the letters to Shirlene.
When I’d first seen them, on my second day in town, I wanted to be annoyed by such an open display of yearning.
The letters had grown on me due to everyone’s enthusiasm.
I was certain that when I met up with Auggie again downtown, I’d see a crowd outside the post office.
We’d both gone home to use the bathroom.
I’d offered to let Auggie use my bathroom at Jack’s house, but he declined. He murmured something about wanting to change shirts.
I didn’t say anything, but I saw the pit stains. I had a pair of my own.
“Yeah,” I mumbled, “it’s kind of silly. But…honestly…who sends those letters, you know?”
Since my first few days in Possibly, I’d developed theory after theory about the letters that were slipped into the post office slot at night and tacked up on the wall.
It was possible Sofia was writing the letters.
Maybe she wanted to add a little excitement to her job and give the town something to enjoy?
Wyatt was always running around, shooting his gun.
People had gotten used to him and mostly ignored him, even when he was firing off a round.
He could easily slip by the post office and slide a letter into the slot. No one would pay him any mind.
Grandy—there was a guy no one talked about much. He sat off on his own down at the gas station and philosophized to himself all day. Maybe at night he was sneaking letters into the post office slot? The writing certainly fit that of a guy who waxed poetic about love.
Starbuck’s was just next door. He could have easily slid the notes through the slot on his way home at night after the post office was closed.
Mystic Molly was sneaky and mysterious. It could have been her.
The guy always jumping off the bridge and screaming to forget Emily could have been the culprit.
Changing the name on the letters so that people didn’t know it was him was feasible.
Malia lurked around the graveyard. Maybe she used her hooded black-cloak to sneak by the post office at night.
Samuel didn’t seem the type, nor did Earl Dean, Jasper, or Officer Hanning, but they seemed to have the time and opportunity as well.
Auggie very well could have been the mysterious letter sender…
but I had a feeling he would have chosen a different name for his intended.
The only person I hadn’t considered a suspect was Agnes Boudreaux. The sound of her rowing her wheelchair around downtown drew attention to her immediately. Sneaking by the post office at night would have been difficult for her. Unless she didn’t really break her leg and it was all a ruse.
Levi Lee even came to mind a time or two. Maybe he yanked on his green-screen suit—that filled out obscenely in places—and declared himself invisible so he could sneak by the post office. It was entirely possible it was him testing out new performance art.
Then again, it seemed to be that the letters had been arriving longer than Levi Lee had been trying to figure out his art.
Unless I wanted to spend a night hiding near Lovelorn Pass Bridge to watch for the letter sender, the mystery was hopeless. Then again, I wasn’t sure I wanted to know the identity of the letter writer. Wasn’t life more fun with a little mystery?
“Are you going to come have barbecue?” I asked Jack. “They’re going to be serving anytime now. Free drinks are all over the place.”
Jack paused, which surprised me, and looked up at me. He seemed to be considering something. Then, almost so quickly I didn’t catch it, he brought his hand up and made a pinching motion with his index finger and middle finger against his thumb.
No.
It wasn’t the answer I wanted, but its delivery took my breath away. I found myself with two choices. There was the option to act like an excited puppy that Jack had actually communicated to me with sign language, or I could play it cool and act normal. Normal was what I tried.
“You sure?” I asked.
Jack looked uncertain again, then raised his fist and tipped it back and forth.
Yes.
“All right,” I said. “It all smells and looks really good, though. You’ll be missing out.”
Jack started to go back to the table, ignoring me.
“I could even bring you a plate if you want?” I suggested quickly.
I didn’t want to lose Jack’s interest in actually conversing with me using sign language. Also, I was already planning in my head to tell Auggie about the development. The more Jack and I conversed, the more I had to tell Auggie.
Jack looked at me again as though he wasn’t sure about my suggestion, but after a moment, he made the “OK” sign. Then he pointed at his chest, then made a “C” with his hand and moved it down his throat towards his stomach.
I didn’t know that sign yet, but I could figure it out.
“You’re hungry?”
He gave me a small smile and signed “yes” again.
“Give me two minutes, man.” I grinned. “I’ll be right back!”
Without waiting to see how Jack would deal with my excitement, I spun on my heels and dashed away.
I jogged around the house and across the front yard, down towards Bend of the Road Graveyard.
When I approached the first headstone at the western end of the graveyard, I cut to the right and was jogging onto Liberty Lane within seconds.
Lines were forming along the street, so I knew my timing couldn’t have been more perfect.
Smokers and grills were being opened, ready to serve those with plates who shuffled along Liberty Lane, ravenous and happy to be fed.
Before the lines could get any longer, I grabbed a paper plate and a set of plasticware wrapped up in a paper towel from the table set up at the northwest corner of Liberty Lane, and sprang into action.
One trip down the south side of the street got a serving of brisket and ribs added to the plate I was preparing for Jack.
Another trip down the north side and coleslaw, potato salad, and corn on the corn was added.
Stopping by one of the coolers, I grabbed a Coke for Jack to wash it all down with later.
I couldn’t run back to the house as quickly as I had run to downtown, but a minute later, and I was holding the plate out to Jack by the table he was working on.
Jack’s eyes lit up with hunger when I shoved the plate under his nose. He started to reach out to take the plate, then stopped himself. He lifted an open hand to his mouth, palm inwards, then brought it down.
Thank you.
“Anytime,” I said, grinning.
Jack produced his cautious smile and accepted the plate. I didn’t want to hover over the guy or make myself a nuisance after the progress we’d made, so I began backing up.
“So,” I said, trying to sound nonchalant, “fireworks later. All the food and drinks you could want if you’re still hungry later. You should come downtown.”
Jack didn’t sign exactly, but he shrugged, and I knew what he meant.
Maybe.
That was good enough for me. At least he was considering joining the festivities.
“Well, okay,” I said, still backing away. “I’m going to meet back up with Auggie. Uh, feed my face too, I guess.”
Jack gave me a nod, but he was already unrolling his plasticware and tucking into his plate.
I wanted to wait around to make sure Jack liked what I had put on his plate for him.
But that would have been creepy and possibly undone some of our progress, so I spun around and began jogging back towards downtown.
Watching Jack would have only made me hungrier anyway.