15
My brother and I made dinner together while my father "did chores" in the barn. As we had when we were children, we cranked all the burners to high and let them warm the kitchen to a comfortable temperature. I made a promise to myself that when I got back to California, I'd never go anywhere cold again. I'd avoid the freezer section at the market if I could. The tips of my fingers and toes and my ears still felt weirdly prickly and overly sensitive and I wondered if I'd gotten frostbite.
"Hopefully nothing important falls off," Jake teased when I said as much to him.
While I stirred sauce and baked chicken, my brother swept the floor and then got down on hands and knees and scrubbed the trail of footprints we'd made when we came in wet and muddy. He took the doormat outside and beat it for a solid minute until every speck of dirt had been shaken free, brought it back in the house, and lined it up exactly one inch from the door jamb. When we were kids, we'd measured the distance with a ruler, but after three decades Jake could eyeball it to within a hair's breadth of an inch.
Avoiding mention of my day's activities reminded me of playing a verbal version of "the floor is lava." Each question represented a careful step. Every answer needed to be precisely calculated.
"Did you remember to grab the trash bag upstairs?"
The trash bag was safe, the dirty clothes were lava.
"Thanks for taking care of the clean up."
Cleaning up was a constant in my father's house. River mud should not be mentioned.
Eventually, my father came inside and washed his hands with Lava soap again. I watched him rub the red, raw skin with the abrasive bar of soap and wondered that the water didn't run pink.
We sat around the table and my father prayed a blessing over the food. When I closed my eyes, I saw Reverend Hobbs step into the light and look down on me with black eyes.
My head throbbed.
"You decide yet how long you're staying?" Dad asked Jake.
Jake shook his head. "I don't know, exactly."
I jabbed my fork into a piece of chicken and thought about the glint of the light on the black blade that sliced into the reverend's chest. What kind of a maniac witnessed a thing like that and didn't call the cops?
But what had the cops done, last time I called them?
Around and around the mad carousel my thoughts circled.
The men talked about the weather, speculating whether more snow would fall before morning and my mind drifted back to Dan Tanner.
Swear to God, girl, there ain't no safer place in this town for you to be. I know they're playing games with you and I'm the only one in this town who'll tell you straight, but I ain't about to hang out in front of this fake-ass cop shop one minute longer than I got to. The cops are fake, but their guns are real enough to kill you.
Why did Dan Tanner think the cops in town were fake? And if he was right, why would fake cops have real guns?
What about the gun the officer found on the table among the scattered contents of my purse?
"Where's my purse?"
Both men stared at me.
I blinked away my scattered thoughts. I hadn't meant to ask the question out loud, but it was a valid enough question. "Have you seen my purse?"
"Did you have it with you in the car?" Jake asked.
He didn't say did you have it with you when you crashed into the river. That would have been stepping in the lava. Nor did he call it Dan Tanner's car, but simply, 'the car.'
"No. The last time I saw it, it was here on the table." Discarded and empty, my wallet and keys and everything else scattered all over the place, even on the floor around my feet.
"Ain't you learned yet how to take care of the things God blessed you with in this world? Cleanliness is a form of worship."
I frowned at my plate and tried to remember. Morning felt like a year ago. "It was here. I didn't misplace it."
"Reckon it grew legs and walked away," my father said.
"It's probably in your car," Jake said.
"Yeah, maybe." No way I was going to get in an argument about it.
We finished our food and my father slumped off to his room, leaving us to clean up. Jake offered to take care of it, but I told him I didn't mind so much. Keeping busy meant not thinking. I was dreading laying in bed alone in the dark with nothing to do but think.
I stacked the plates and flatware and carried them to the counter, but when I set them down my clumsy, numb fingers fumbled and one of the forks on top of the pile clattered across the counter and slipped in the space between the lower cabinet and the fridge.
"Nice one, Gracey," Jake teased.
"Shut up, hoser," I shot back as I would have when I was thirteen years old.
He laughed and turned away to get the broom from the closet. He'd swept less than an hour earlier, but neither of us wanted our father to find crumbs on the floor when he came back into the room.
I squatted down and stuck my hand in the narrow gap where the fork had fallen. My fingers wrapped around it and brushed another small, metal object. I picked both things up and stood. When I opened my hand, I saw the fork and the lipstick I picked up from the Mac counter less than a two weeks ago.
In my mind's eye, I picked up my purse and dumped it on the table. My phone fell out along with a packet of tissues and a tin of mints. Several things rolled onto the floor. Was one of them the little black bullet-shaped lipstick?
"You okay?" Jake asked from behind me and I realized I'd been standing still, staring down at my hand.
"Fine." Except for my one secret, I always told Jake everything, but I dropped the fork into the sink and slipped the lipstick into my pocket when his back was turned. "I keep thinking about my purse. I've got some extra strength Tylenol in there. It would do wonders for my head. I'm just going to go look in the car. Maybe you're right. Maybe I left it there."
He kissed the top of my head. "I'll do it. You stay warm and wash dishes so I don't have to."
"And they say chivalry's not dead."
Jake slipped our father's boots on, since his were still soaking wet, and dashed out the door. In seconds he returned, my purse hanging from his elbow. "What do you say, does it match my shoes?"
"You're a real trendsetter," I said, and I thanked him and made a show of taking two of the pills, which I genuinely did need. But I knew I never got in my car between the time I dumped my purse out and the time I left with the officer.
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