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Authors: Cricket McRae

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BOOK: Something Borrowed, Something Bleu
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“You’re going to Colorado
with me,” I announced.
The sounds of workmen banging away filtered around the corner to Meghan’s office, formerly the old front parlor of the house we shared in Cadyville, Washington. The scents of ylang ylang and rose geranium essential oils drifted from the darkened massage room behind her, accompanied by the trickling sounds of the fountain. Brodie, his corgi muzzle gray with age, watched me from where he lay next to her desk. The constant noise from our house renovation set his canine sensibilities on edge, and these days he was never more than a few feet from Meghan or her eleven-year-old daughter, Erin.
My housemate’s perfect eyebrow arched. “Colorado? Going to see your mom and dad?” Over the course of our lengthy friendship she had developed a great fondness for my parents.
I plopped into her big cushy guest chair. “Didn’t you hear the phone ring this morning? It was Anna Belle, up bright and way too early, determined to chat with her only daughter.”
She smiled. Dark curls swung around her delicate features as she shook her head and looked toward the ceiling. How nice that she found my mother’s antics amusing.
“So why am I supposedly going on this junket with you?” she asked.
“Because now I have to go back home, and I’m not going by myself. Barr said he might be able to get off work for a day or so, but that’s it. I just know Anna Belle is determined to plan a big wedding while I’m there.”
She waved her hand as if dispelling a foul odor. “Bah. You’re a grownup. Stick to your guns.”
“Fine for you to say. She cried.”
Shock replaced Meghan’s smile. Her blue-gray eyes widened. “Anna Belle? Cried?”
I nodded. “Just a little. And she said ‘Please.’”
She let out a low whistle. “Wow.”
The shriek of a saw blade shuddered through the walls. Meghan and I winced. At our feet, Brodie whined.
“But all of that finally led up to what she really wants.” I folded my arms across my chest.
Meghan looked pointedly at her watch.
Fine. “She found Bobby Lee’s suicide note.”
My housemate leaned forward and put her elbows on the desk. “Oh, God. Really?” She barely breathed the words. “What does it say?”
“She won’t tell me.” Frustration leaked out with my words.
A short laugh escaped before Meghan caught herself. “I’m sorry. I know it’s not funny. Not funny at all. It’s just that your mom is so …”
“Yeah. I know she is. But the truth is I do want to see them, and I haven’t been back for a while.” And I wanted to know—needed to know—what that note said.
A loud crash made the ceiling vibrate. My housemate’s eyes narrowed. “This racket’s making it impossible for me to work here. Clients can’t relax, and I’m a nervous wreck.”
“I know. It’s awful. I’m sorry. But won’t it be worth it?”
When Barr Ambrose had asked me to marry him, I’d balked. Not because I didn’t love the guy to death, but because Meghan and Erin Bly had become my close, if nontraditional, family. Luckily, Barr had anticipated my reluctance, and he and Meghan hatched a crazy plan to keep everybody happy. It was, in short, the perfect solution.
We bought into ownership of her large house and set to getting things changed around so Barr and I could have our own digs. The upstairs would be a one-bedroom apartment with a tiny kitchenette—Barr and I would still use the main kitchen most of the time, but it would be nice to be completely separate if we wanted—and we were adding two bedrooms to the main floor, as well as expanding the bathroom. My work area, office, and storeroom still took up the entire basement, and Meghan’s office and massage room just off the front entryway remained unchanged. It was a huge project, but so far the contractor was on schedule. That in itself was a miracle, but it was still a real pain to live with.
“Of course. It’ll be great,” she said. “Not least because it means you’ll be sticking around.” A speculative look settled on her face. “When exactly are you planning this trip to Colorado?”
“The sooner the better.”
She reached for her desk calendar, opened it and ran her finger down a row of dates. “I’ve been booking light anyway, trying to schedule around when the workers are here. But it’s getting so they’re here all the time.” A look up at me. “And Erin doesn’t start school for two weeks.”
“Day after tomorrow? Does that give you enough time?”
She considered. “I think so.”
I tried not to look satisfied. “Excellent. I’ve checked flights already. There were some good last-minute fares online, so I’ll go ahead and book three?”
She hesitated. A power saw screeched, and she grimaced. “Yes. Three tickets.”
“You won’t regret it. There’s plenty to do around there, and you guys deserve a little vacay.”
The screeching increased. Meghan gritted her teeth and nodded. “Talk about understatements.”
I ducked out and headed down the narrow wooden staircase to the basement. When I’d talked to Barr, who was one of the Cadyville Police Department’s two detectives, he’d been intrigued by the phone call from my mother. First off, he’d never met my parents and was curious about them. But the sudden appearance of a suicide note after eighteen years really piqued his interest. Unfortunately, he’d been unsure whether he could get time off to come meet them, as he was scheduled to testify in a drug case some time during the next week.
My computer sat in the corner of my storage room, the online fares I’d found still on the screen. I quickly booked the tickets and then used my cell phone to call Cyan Waters, the teenager who worked for me several times a week. She was already familiar with how to fill and ship orders for Winding Road customers, and sounded happy to work some extra hours. In fact, she assured me that her sister Kyla—who’d also worked for me until recently—could help out if needed since she wasn’t leaving for college for a few more weeks.
I turned to the shelves that covered the walls. Winding Road inventory packed them top to bottom. It was a relatively slow time of year, and I’d been good about keeping my stock high to avoid having to scramble for the upcoming Christmas rush. I’d have to fill the gaps once I returned, but that was okay. It was hard to complain about business being good.
Lye soaps in creamy earth tones stacked high along one wall. Other shelves held bottles and jars of bath salts, bath fizzies, foot scrubs, lip balms, lotions, air fresheners, and body oils. Another wall held raw materials: essential oils, butters, vegetable oils, solid palm and coconut oils, and jars of herbs and natural colorants. I closed my eyes, inhaling the plethora of heavenly aromas, and a quiet calm replaced the jittery anxiety I’d felt ever since talking to Anna Belle.
She’d refused to talk about Bobby Lee for years. Perhaps she simply couldn’t bear discussing it when everything was still raw, and never quite got past that. The vibrancy of our family had faded until we had only the colorless shell of regular phone calls in which we said the same things over and over and the occasional visit where we walked around each other like ghosts.
I’d intended to go back to Colorado after graduating from college, but then I fell in love with a Washington boy. Mike Reynolds and I got jobs, got married, and got on with life.
Until he died, too.
But this phone call had been different from the others. Anna Belle had been different.
What message had my brother left behind?

_____

 

 

The architecture of Denver International Airport was supposed to reflect the outline of the Rocky Mountains, but the swooping white peaks looked more like a series of circus tents. Beside me, Erin strained against the seatbelt and craned her head to see through the scratched Plexiglas as the pilot guided the plane down the runway to the terminal. Pushing away, she flopped back in her seat with something that sounded very much like a harrumph.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
A scowl pinched her elfin features, so much like her mother’s that she could have been a clone. “I thought Colorado had mountains.”
I smiled. “Looks like we landed in Kansas by mistake.”
She twisted in her seat to look at me with intelligent gray eyes. “Nice try. I’m not stupid.”
“Try looking out the other side of the plane,” I suggested.
To my right, Meghan dug her cell phone out of her pocket and turned it back on with a beep. There was already a message from her long-distance boyfriend, Kelly O’Connell. They were trying to coordinate a flight for him, so they could spend some quality time together. It was Sunday, and Barr was still hoping to manage a few days off to join us later in the week. In the meantime, I’d be spending my quality time with Anna Belle and Calvin Watson.
At the top of the last escalator, our fellow travelers dispersed into the crowd of people waiting by the fountain in the main terminal. The shooshing sound of water muted their conversations. I searched the faces lined up behind the barrier but didn’t see either of my parents. Meghan touched my arm and pointed. From a bank of chairs fifty yards away my father stood, waving his arm to get our attention. My mother remained seated, a look of mild interest on her face.
I waved back and guided Erin in their direction. She shook off my hand with an impatient gesture. I shot a questioning look at Meghan, who frowned, then shrugged.
“Hey you guys! How was the flight?” Dad embraced everyone with enthusiasm. I was glad to see Erin grin and hug him back. She was becoming hard to predict.
“We had to get out of the house before five this morning so we’re a little tired, but everything went smoothly.” I turned to my mother and smiled.
She stood and patted me awkwardly on the back, then greeted Meghan and Erin in turn. Dad put his arm around my shoulders and squeezed again. For a brief moment I leaned my head against his chest.
Anna Belle looked around at the group. “Let’s get some double lattes, then, and hit the road.” Ever efficient, she turned on her heel and led the way to the coffee bar. Over her shoulder she tossed, “Sophie Mae, I like your hair short like that. Shows off your pretty green eyes.”
“Um, thanks.”
“You should have cut it like that years ago.”
Beside me, Meghan grinned.
As we followed behind my mother like a string of baby ducks, I examined my parents. In the last year the lines on my father’s lean face had deepened, and a few more white strands accentuated Anna Belle’s smooth copper hair. Other than that, little had changed. As always, they both were prime specimens of physical fitness.
Anna Belle’s cropped pageboy framed a face that had once graced magazine covers. Her stint as a model had been short, intended only to make money for college. She’d always drilled into Bobby Lee and me that physical beauty was ultimately meaningless. Of course, she was right, but Anna Belle Watson could better afford that attitude than most, with her high cheekbones and dark, intense eyes. It also looked like she spent more time than ever in the gym. Muscles defined her bare arms and roped up her tanned calves to the hem of her Bermuda shorts.
Feeling like a pale lump of dough, I turned my attention to my dad. Lean and only slightly taller than Anna Belle, he had a thick blonde mane and clear hazel eyes. An electric-blue-and-chartreuse floral shirt topped his khaki shorts—one of the many Hawaiian patterns in his extensive collection. His gait was loose and easy as he walked beside her. In fact, he looked remarkably calm, and I wondered what that was all about. He’d mellowed over the years, as had my mother, but he had always been a man with fire in his belly, intense and curious and interested in everything.
Especially when my brother was alive.
In line at the coffee counter, Anna Belle asked, “What does everyone want?”
She took our orders and presented them to the barista in a succinct and slightly impatient list. My mother seemed to be in a real toot to get on the road. A few minutes later we were armed with various forms of caffeine, green tea for my father and a lemon granita for Erin. Our suitcases were circling on the conveyer when we got to the baggage claim station, and we rolled straight out to the parking garage.
On the way, Anna Belle culled me from the herd, her hand on my elbow guiding me far enough away that the others couldn’t hear her mutter, “Your father doesn’t know about the letter.”
I looked my surprise at her. “Why not?”
Ahead of us, Dad turned in our direction, a quizzical look on his face. Anna Belle pushed me back toward the group. “I’ll explain later.”
You sure as heck will, I thought.

 

 

“We’re here!” Erin jumped
out and stood on the sidewalk with her hands on her nonexistent hips, face tilted toward the azure sky.
I rubbed my gritty eyes. My neck screamed as I turned my head to look out the window; Meghan’s shoulder had proven an awkward headrest on the ride to Spring Creek. The last vestige of air conditioning slipped out Erin’s open door and the dry summer heat wrapped around me like a python. Anna Belle was already on the front step, keys jingling in her hand. The hydraulic support of the hatchback wheezed open behind me.
I peered out at the house I’d grown up in: brick mixed with oatmeal-colored siding, two stories high and featuring a fully finished basement courtesy of my father’s hard work. The yard boasted a tiny patch of grass, but was mostly landscaped with drought-hardy plants like Russian sage and sunset hyssop, interspersed with puffs of blue fescue grass. Zinnias brightened the spaces in between, as did the two identical ceramic urns that flanked the front door, planted with verbena, lobelia, and geraniums. Red Colorado flagstone, artfully arranged river rock, and chunky boulders provided structure: high desert xeriscaping at its best.
It was always a bit of a shock to return to Colorado after living in the verdant green of the Pacific Northwest. I could feel my sinuses crinkling from the dry air, and blinked rapidly to prevent the moisture in my eyes from wicking into the atmosphere.
Oh, and it was hot, too. August hot. And I don’t care what they say about a “dry heat”—once you hit 95 degrees, it just doesn’t matter anymore.
“Nice nap?” Meghan asked.
I wiped the sheen of sweat from my forehead with the back of my hand. “I guess.”
My mother beckoned Erin to the front door. Dad started unloading luggage behind me. The ache spread up my neck and settled behind my eyes. At least it went with the coffee-sour stomach.
I did not want to go into that house.
Why my parents hadn’t moved was beyond me. How could they stand living there after what had happened? The one time I had the temerity to ask, Anna Belle had changed the subject.
Meghan opened her door and stepped to the pavement. I took a deep breath and followed her.
“Here, Dad, let me take that.”

BOOK: Something Borrowed, Something Bleu
10.45Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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