Impervious (City of Eldrich Book 1) (6 page)

Chapter 9

H
er storage pod
arrived Wednesday afternoon. Meaghan could tell the delivery driver didn’t want to be there. He got the pod off the back of the flatbed truck and into the driveway as fast as he could, thrust a clipboard at her with shaking hands, and told her to sign it. His impatience and anger couldn’t mask the body language betraying his fear.

She remembered her mother, in that stupid dream, warning her to trust her gut. Fine, she thought. The moving company probably let the pod fall off the side of the truck somewhere along I-80, all her stuff was broken, and they knew she was a lawyer. That would explain his fear.

Meaghan took her time reading the form, signed it, and handed the clipboard back, grateful she’d had the foresight to pay extra for damage insurance. He ran to the truck, scrambled in, and roared off with screeching tires. Yeah, they’d smashed up her stuff. That had to be it.

She spent the next few days unpacking and, despite her prediction, everything was intact. After three days she was almost moved in, except for a few boxes. They weren’t anything critical, merely artwork, photos, that sort of stuff. But she couldn’t bring herself to unpack them. If she still had unpacked boxes in the corner, then she could convince herself the move was temporary.

On Saturday, Jamie came by and picked up Matthew to take him fishing for a few hours. Matthew didn’t fish any longer, he merely watched Jamie, but he seemed to enjoy it and their fishing trips gave Russ a badly needed respite. Russ used the time to escort Meaghan around Eldrich, which to Russ consisted of the weekly farmers’ market in the town square and the food co-op. A shiny new supermarket sat on the edge of town, but Russ avoided it unless absolutely necessary.

“But the co-op’s gotta cost more, right?” Meaghan asked. “What’s the difference?”

Even as the question came out of her mouth, Meaghan regretted it. For the fifteen minutes it took them to drive downtown, he lectured her about the “food-industrial” complex and the evils it wrought upon the world and how nobody should eat stuff produced farther than ten miles from home.

“Fine, I get it,” she finally said. “Local good, distant bad. I will never question your hunter-gatherer creds again. Can we stop for coffee? Or is coffee evil too? I know they don’t grow that within ten miles of our house.”

“Um,” Russ said. “Well, you have to make some allowances for certain things . . .”

“Like coffee,” Meaghan said.

“Yes, but I buy only fair-trade organic—”

She cut him off. “I don’t care. I want caffeine. They can grow it in crude oil in a lab for all I care.”

Russ wrinkled his nose in disgust. “Pathetic. You have so much to learn about food. There’s a great little place next to the co-op if you can wait a couple of minutes.”

Car parked, a cup of coffee in hand from Eldrich Brew, the funky little coffee shop next to the co-op, Meaghan followed Russ across the street to the farmer’s market in the town square. Russ planned to hit the co-op on their way back to the car.

Unlike some of the farmers’ markets she’d been to in Phoenix, which were mostly craft fairs with the token produce table for the look of things, the Eldrich farmers’ market was the real deal. Pickup trucks surrounded the square, fronted by stands laden with produce, fresh bread, cheese, eggs, and all sorts of jams, jellies, and preserves. She saw several signs for organic meat.

“Does John Smith sell his honey here?” Meaghan asked Russ.

“Why do you ask?” He wore a knowing smile.

She wanted to smack that cheesy grin off his face as she felt her cheeks grow hot. “No reason. Merely curious.”

“He should be here. Unless . . .”

“Unless what?”

“Um. Unless he drank too much last night.”

Now it was Russ’s turn to blush, Meaghan noticed, feeling satisfied and disappointed at the same time. John was trouble, and Russ just confirmed it. But as victories went, it felt pretty hollow.

“He’s not a bad guy,” Russ said. “He could be a really great guy if he sobered up. But it’s not hard to understand his compulsion to drink considering all he suffered.”

“Oh, bullshit,” Meaghan said. “Drinking is a choice. Plenty of people suffer and still manage not to pickle themselves.”

“Wow. Way to feel the compassion,” Russ responded.

“Fine. I get that it’s a disease, but it’s the only disease I know of where the cure is simply telling yourself no.”

“Simply?” He shook his head.

“Jamie lost his mom. He suffered and he’s not a drunk, is he?”

Russ shook his head. “No, but—”

“Don’t ever expect me to have sympathy for this shit. Not after Dad and Greg. Been there, done that.” She tapped the white mark above her eyebrow. “Got the scar to prove it.”

Feeling bolstered by her tough talk, Meaghan turned away from Russ only to see John sitting about twenty feet away on the lowered tailgate of his truck, counting money. A table stacked with honey jars sat in front of him. As Meaghan watched, a couple of older women walked up and made a purchase. He gave them his shy smile, but barely looked up. The two women whispered something to each other and giggled as they walked away.

“Oh, look, Meg,” Russ said, noticing John. “Let’s go kick him in the balls and then tell him how his drinking is a choice.”

“You know I’m right,” Meaghan said, her face flaming again. “I’m not trying to be mean. I know he went through something awful, but he drinks because he chooses to. No other reason.”

“Yeah, but I think he’s salvageable.”

“So, what’s that got to do with me?” She felt her face get even hotter.

“Well, I thought, maybe, if he had someone to motivate him—”

“Oh, Russ, please. Tell me you aren’t thinking of trying to fix us up. Not. Gonna. Happen. Just because you make bad choices doesn’t mean I have to.” It was out of her mouth before she could stop herself.

Russ gave her a frozen look and walked towards John.

“Russ,” she called after him. “I’m sorry.”

He ignored her.

“Oh, nice one, Meg,” she muttered as she followed him.

“Hey, John,” she heard Russ call. “How’s business?”

John looked up from his money counting, saw Russ, shoved the bills into the pocket of his worn jeans, and smiled. He saw Meaghan a moment later. His face turned red and he stared back down at the table.

Russ walked up, hand out. John shook it, still looking down.

“The last batch you dropped by was awesome,” Russ said. “How are the bees doing?”

John shrugged. “They seem happy. I added more hives. In the lower clearing.”

“You met Meaghan, I hear,” Russ said, throwing her another frosty look.

“I did,” John said.

Standing near him, seeing him up close, Meaghan felt a rush of shame for her glib remarks. She could see faint scars around his wrists and on his forearms. A big man, he did all he could to appear small. He carried himself cautiously, with a slight crouch, arms held close to his sides, ready to flee or curl into a protective ball at the slightest sign of trouble. He reminded her of the abused dogs a friend in Phoenix used to foster, the fight beaten out of them, expecting every human touch to hurt.

“Well,” Russ said, breaking the uncomfortable silence. “I guess we’ll be moving along.” He grabbed Meaghan’s arm and tugged her away from the table. “Good to see you, John.”

“Did you meet my son?” John asked. Meaghan turned. John was staring at her, a hungry look on his face.

“I did. A few days ago,” Meaghan said, forcing herself to look in his eyes. Trying to be tough and smug with John about being a drunk would be like kicking a frightened puppy, Meaghan thought. Goddammit. It would be a lot easier to smother her attraction if she could feel scorn for him. But up close, it was impossible.

“Is he well? Is he happy?”

“Yes,” she said. “He seems to be.”

“And you met his family, the babies?”

Again she saw the hunger in his eyes. You do not need a man to save, she told herself. Don’t go there. “Only saw pictures.”

“I see them around town sometimes, but they don’t know me.” He returned his gaze to the table. “It’s better this way, I think. For them.”

Meaghan felt the tears begin to build. They were always close by since she’d arrived in Eldrich. She clenched her hand and dug her fingernails into her palm, forcing them back down. She had no idea how to reply to him.

Russ jumped in. “Jamie took Dad fishing. We’ll see him later. I’ll tell him we saw you.”

John shook his head. “Don’t. It only upsets him.” He tried to change the subject. “Your father, he is well?”

Russ shrugged. “As well as can be expected. I’m sure Dad would be thrilled to see you if you want to drop by. Think about it, okay?”

John nodded. A knot of people stopped in front of the table and began asking him questions about the honey.

Russ pulled Meaghan away. “Yeah, he should simply tell himself no and then he’d be all better.”

“Russ, I . . . I’m sorry. I let my mouth get out in front of my brain back there.”

“I forgive you, Meg, but I don’t understand you,” he said. “When did you get so hard?”

She had no answer for that. “He really doesn’t know his grandkids?”

Russ shook his head. “And Jamie would go ballistic if John tried to make contact. When they got here, John was . . . well, he was in no shape to raise Jamie, so he let Dad step in. Jamie doesn’t want anything to do with him now. Sound familiar?”

Meaghan stopped walking and let the crowd flow around her. She could no longer keep her tears at bay. “My coffee’s cold and I barely drank any,” she said in a small voice. “Can we go home now?”

He handed her the car keys. “I’ve got a couple more stops here and then the co-op. If you aren’t in the car, I’ll look for you in the coffee shop.” He relented a bit. “I’m sorry. That was a cheap shot. Guess I’ve gotten a little hard too.” He pulled a bandana out of his pocket and handed it to her. “It’s clean. Blow your nose and I’ll see you in few minutes.” He took a few steps away, but turned before melting into the growing crowd. “Sally—the one with all the tattoos—will be happy to warm that coffee up if you ask nice.”

Meaghan nodded, and then he was gone.

Chapter 10

M
onday, Meaghan’s first
day on the new job, dawned cool and rainy. Jamie had assured her that the dress code in City Hall was casual, but she put on the black power suit anyway. After a moment’s hesitation, she opted for the trousers instead of the skirt. She’d never make it all day in heels with her still tender big toe, so trousers it was.

Meaghan checked herself in the mirror. She looked good for fifty. She had taken care of her skin, protecting it from the Arizona sun, and her silver hair made her face look younger in comparison rather than aging her. She was a swimmer since childhood, an avid hiker, and remained strong and fit.

Too many angles to her face and the hawk-like brow she’d inherited from her father prevented Meaghan from being pretty in the conventional sense. But she was striking, she knew that. A Victorian novelist would have termed her a “handsome woman.”

Her face had been rounder when she was young. Aging had carved out cheekbones that fit better with her heavy brow. She really did look better now than when she was younger. Too bad, she thought, that modern culture only values twenty-five-year-olds.

“All right, Miss America,” she said to her reflection. “Good enough.”

Russ had a simple breakfast waiting and had packed her a lunch. “I’m sure they’ll take you out, but in case they don’t, here you go.” He handed her a tiny soft-sided cooler.

She peeked inside. Sandwich, apple, green salad, and some cookies. Good old Russ. “Thanks, Mommy,” she said.

Russ made a face and pointed at the door. “Go and lawyer, smart ass.”

She’d seen city hall, which sat on the block north of the town square, on her trip to the farmers’ market but hadn’t taken a close look.

City hall rose three stories with a clock tower rising an additional two stories above the roofline. A stone layer cake of a building, city hall looked like a Gothic castle. Gargoyles sprang from the roof and ornate carvings covered the stone walls. Around it lay another lush green square, with huge old trees, a fountain, and iron benches.

Meaghan found her assigned parking space in the small circular drive that led up to the building. Most city employees parked in a lot across the street, but as city solicitor Meaghan got to park up close, along with the mayor, the council members, and a handful of high-ranking staff.

For a city as tiny as Eldrich, Meaghan thought, walking in the main door, it was a bit much. The architectural excess continued inside. A reception desk sat in the corner of a large vaulted lobby. An elderly security guard greeted her with a beaming smile.

“I know who you are,” he quavered. “You have your dad’s eyes. How is Mr. Keele doing these days?”

Meaghan wasn’t surprised he recognized her. She doubted more than a handful of unfamiliar people walked by his checkpoint each day. “Well, he has good days and bad days. You know how it is.” She held out her hand across the desk. “I’m Meaghan.”

“Oh, where are my manners?” He shuffled from behind the desk towards her. “Rainy days are hard on the knees.” He took her outstretched hand and shook it warmly. “Moyer. Meb Moyer, Miss Keele. Call me Meb.”

“Only if you call me Meaghan.” He was, she realized, more akin to a Walmart greeter than a security guard. “Good to meet you, Meb. Can you point me towards the solicitor’s office?”

He showed her the elevator and told her to go the third floor. She told him she’d rather take the stairs. With a nervous grin, he told her the tiled stairs were slick and wet shoes made it worse and with the ceilings so high it was really more like climbing five stories than three. He gestured again toward the elevator.

It was like Russ and the drive through the woods. “Do people walk up the stairs and disappear never to be heard from again?” she asked, before she could stop herself.

Now poor Meb looked panicky. And miserable, like he wanted to tell her something he knew he couldn’t.

She let him off the hook. “I’m kidding.” She smiled at him. “I’m sorry. You reminded me of how nervous my brother was the first time I drove up from the interstate.”

Meb relaxed. “Why climb the stairs when you don’t have to?”

“Why indeed,” Meaghan answered. “You have a good day, Meb.” She walked to the open elevator and stepped in. She felt an odd prickle on the back of her neck. She knew she was being silly, but it felt like people were trying to keep a big secret. She thought of her dream and her mother’s cryptic warning to trust her gut. She shivered.

Enough, she thought, disgusted with herself. She’d worked before in organizations poisoned by the dysfunctional antics of a few difficult personalities and she knew what was going on. Matthew had, no doubt, crossed swords with some half-baked martinet or queen bee. Everyone was waiting for the fireworks to being anew now that Meaghan had arrived. What they were hiding from her was the common knowledge that her new job was going to be a monumental pain in the ass.