The Rascal (25 page)

“Sorry to hear that, sir. Real sorry. I guess we’ll head up to the big house to check on old Miss Pruitt now. We haven’t heard from her in a while.”

“I don’t suspect you would have. She left too. Yep. She left just before the storm got going. Left everything she owned there in the house. Said she hated Wicker and never wanted to be reminded of it again. I’m just telling you what she told me.”

“That sounds like her. Well, then I guess we’ll be heading back to town. Don’t be a stranger, you hear? The whole town’s curious as to how you weathered the storm.”

“I just bet they are.”

The sheriff understood what he meant. Jeff and the sheriff understood each other quite well. There would be very little in the form of queries by the police on the hill. That’s the way it had always been.

“Be careful of that well out back,” the deputy said. “That’s something you wouldn’t want to take a wrong step into. I’d fill it up if I were you.”

(Sybil’s crushed body wasn’t found until years later by a lone vagrant traveling No Hope Creek. The sight of Sybil’s skull gave him a fright as he investigated the wreck, so he chose not to seek shelter in what remained of Ethan’s car. He scavenged for anything of worth, which was little, and then moved on. By this point, Jeff was long gone from the area, having followed other pursuits. It wouldn’t have mattered anyway. The vagrant never filed a report.)

When Chloe’s family first came calling a couple weeks after the storm, having at last located where she had been, Jeff knew he would be dogged by them for the rest of his life. His explanation that she had left him was good enough for the time being, but questions would rise, if they weren’t already bubbling to the surface.

As suggested by the deputy, Jeff took care to have the well covered. He filled it full with furniture and debris, some from the cottage, some from the big house. He made certain to head up to Lana’s in the night, lest he be sighted by any of the curious trespassers he knew were there. Once the well was packed tightly with antiques and useless things (it took the span of a week), Jeff sealed it for good with the stone and some homemade cement. He tried not to think of what lay at the very bottom. Of
who
lay there. He could do nothing for them, but respect what they had done for him and play things out.

There were times he questioned what he was doing. Why he was lying. After all, he had done nothing wrong. He had murdered no one. But the truth was beyond explanation. No one would believe the truth. Except maybe Wicker.

Jeff finally came down from the hill a month later. It was a cool day, but dry. The pavement in town was dried and cracked from the harsh season. Life in town was pale and slow. The faces of the Wicker townsfolk were half covered in scarves as Jeff drove his Jeep down Main Street. Of course, they stared. Of course, they nodded. Some waved in jovial manners as if he had lived there all his life. He was a local star now. His life fed their imaginations and their bank accounts. They loved him.

He wished for a plague.

Jeff would have avoided Wicker for longer. He very well could have. Lana had kept a supply of food in her kitchen and pantry that could have fed him for months. But then Kelton called. He wanted to ask about Ethan.

“I don’t understand. Why would he leave me?” His voice was strained over the phone. “Why would he leave Bug?”

Jeff agreed to meet him at a small diner in Wicker. Kelton was at a booth by a window. Bug was in a carrier, asleep on the tabletop. Kelton was mindlessly stirring his coffee. Jeff sat down opposite him before Kelton noticed he was even there. His eyes were those of a single parent and all the fatigue and worry that involved.

Bug slept undisturbed by Jeff’s arrival. Jeff ordered a coffee and watched the baby. This could have been him. He could have been a father.

You would have been a good dad.

“You haven’t heard from Ethan at all?” Kelton looked at him pleadingly.

Jeff cast his eyes downward. “No. Not since he left.”

“But why? Why would he leave? Did he give you any clue?”

“I told you what happened over the phone. I don’t remember much of anything. I was too ill. But when I woke up, Ethan and Chloe were both gone.”

“Are you suggesting they left together?” Doubt. Accusation.

Jeff countered the expression. “That would be silly. They didn’t care for one another.”

“Not at all.” Kelton took a relieved sip of his coffee.

“Not at all.”

“I got that
one
call from him during the storm. I could hardly understand him. I only managed a few words actually. When we were cut off, I got hold of the Wicker police department. They said they couldn’t do anything until the storm passed and the snow began to melt from the hill. They said it was too dangerous.”

“And they kept to their word. I didn’t see them for some time.”

Kelton studied Jeff’s still-wrapped hand. “You’re a strong man, Jeff. I don’t know how you survived it. But then, your career trains you for things like this, doesn’t it? I wonder if Ethan would know what to do if he ever…” His eyes welled up and he took another sip of coffee.

“I think,” Jeff said, reaching for Kelton’s hand, “Ethan was—
is
a stronger man than anyone ever supposed. I think he’s a man who knows what to do, knows what needs to be done, even at great personal cost.”

“I don’t understand.”

Jeff shook his head. “Who does? But if you need to talk some more about all of this…”

“Thanks, Jeff.” Bug opened his eyes and, seeing Jeff, smiled. “Listen. Why don’t you come stay with me and Bug? I mean, just until things are settled down a bit. We could get that hand properly seen to and get some treatment for your other wounds.”

“Me? Come to live with you?”

“Why not? We’re both abandoned right now. It might do us some good to have someone to commiserate with. And besides, we’re family, right?”

Jeff sat back in his seat.
Family
. A grin slid across his face. What came to him then, creeping up like a head out of the darkness, was the realization that he was still the Golden Boy. That things just somehow worked out for him. That everything was only ever done for him. He was a star.

He licked his lips.

“Right,” he said. “Yes. That sounds perfect, Kelton. Just perfect. I’ve always wanted a family.”

THE END

Trademark Acknowledgement

The author acknowledges the trademark status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:

Jeep: Chrysler LLC

Walmart: Wal-Mart Stores, Inc.

Pepto-Bismol: The Procter & Gamble Company

Neosporin: Johnson & Johnson

Eric Arvin

Eric Arvin resides in the same sleepy Indiana river town where he grew up. He graduated from Hanover College with a Bachelors in History. He has lived, for brief periods, in Italy and Australia. He has survived brain surgery and his own loud-mouthed personal demons. Eric is the author of
 
Woke Up In A Strange Place, Subsurdity, Simple Men, Galley Proof,
and various other sundry and not-so-sundry writings. He intends to live the rest of his days with tongue in cheek and eyes set to roam.

Also by Eric Arvin

Wave Goodbye to Charlie

Azrael and the Light Bringer

The Mingled Destinies of Crocodiles and Men

SubSurdity: Vignettes from Jasper Lane
Suburbilicious: Vignettes from Jasper Lane
Simple Men
Another Enchanted April
Woke Up in a Strange Place
Galley Proof
SuburbaNights
Kid Christmas Rides Again
Man Falls Down

She’s Come Undone
Miss Locks
Roids, Rumps & Revenge

Anthologies:
Zombie Boyz

Slight Details & Random Events
Mr. Right Now
Uniform Appeal
Erotica Exotica: Tales of Sex, Magic, & the Supernatural

Comic Books:
The Blackbeard Legacy