Kill Me If You Can

20

I waited until I was good and ready, about ten minutes later, to put in a call to Brad. It was urgent, Officer Segerstrom had said. It better be. Granted, I owed Brad the courtesy of the return phone call. But that was all. We were done. Over. Kaput. This whole past week I’d been in the process of moving on.

“Tish. Thank God you called.”

His voice tore a gash in my stitched-up emotions.

“Hi.” I barely formed the syllable.

“I need a really big favor,” he said without formalities.

This was no time to grant favors. No. No. No. I put a hand to my temple. Just the sound of his voice made me wish I’d never left Rawlings. My earlier resolve crumbled against the power of my desires.

“Sure. What is it?” I heard myself say.

“It’s Sam.”

“Sam?” My voice perked up. Samantha Walters was Brad’s gorgeous, spunky sister. She’d been a good friend to me back in Rawlings. “Is Sam okay?”

“No,” he said without hesitation. “Her ex is scheduled to get out of prison this week and I don’t want her anywhere near Rawlings when he does.” He took a deep breath. “Can she come stay with you for a while?”

“Umm, ahh. . .” I launched into some foreign vowel recitation.

“It’s really important. You don’t know what this guy is like. They shouldn’t even be letting him out.”

“Well, umm, how long is a while?” I liked Sam well enough, and I hoped the best for her, but I just couldn’t bear to have a daily reminder of my failed relationship with Brad lounging on my sofa. Besides, the last time I’d had a roommate was during my short stint in college. All I remembered was her penchant for soap operas during my study time and a boyfriend who should have been paying rent.

“A couple of weeks, max. Just ’til I can get a handle on him and see if he plans to cause Sam trouble.”

I rubbed at my eyes. What I’d give to have Brad care for me even a smidge as much as he cared for his sister. But he’d never gone out of his way for me. I certainly didn’t feel compelled to go out of my way for him, even if Sam’s safety were on the line. Brad was a cop. He’d find another place to put her. “I don’t know, Brad. I’ve got the brute squad after me as it is. I don’t need to be expanding my list of miffed-off men.”

There was silence on the other end.

“Maybe you don’t remember,” he said after a minute, “but I helped you out of a tight spot or two. The least you could do is return the favor.”

My ears started clanging. GUILT TRIP, GUILT TRIP, the bells warned.

“Don’t get me wrong. I love your sister,” I said. It wasn’t as if I was saying no to Samantha. It was more like I was establishing boundaries in my relationship with Brad. And in a relationship like ours, there was no obligation to return favors. My voice was firm. “It’s just that I’ve just got too much going on in my life right now. I can’t afford to get sidetracked.”

“Name something.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, name something you have going on in your life. I bet you can’t think of anything.”

“I can too.”

“Well?”

He made it sound like I sat around and ate bonbons all day. I cleared my throat. “There’s the whole upstairs that has to get finished. I just need to focus in on that.”

“Sam can help you.”

“What? No. I work alone. That’s how I do things.”

“It’s time to change your policy. Sam is a good friend and she needs you. I’m still a good friend, aren’t I, Tish?”

I squeezed my eyes. Guilt poured like hot coals over my head. “Of course you are.”

“Then do it for me. Come on. It’ll be fun.”

Didn’t he know I’d do anything for him—if only he wanted to be with me? I let out a sigh. “Fine. Whatever. Send her up.”

“Thanks, Tish. You won’t be sorry.”

I gave him directions, then clicked the disconnect button. Tears coursed down my cheeks. I was already sorry.

With no clue as to when Samantha planned on showing up, I went on with life as usual. A week passed, and still no Sam. I figured she’d changed her mind about coming when she heard how unreceptive I’d been to the idea of her moving in. If Sam wanted revenge, she’d gotten it—I’d been swimming in a lake of guilt since that phone call with Brad.

Thursday morning arrived. A touch of disappointment niggled at me when I finally accepted the fact Samantha wasn’t going to show. I leaned on the deck rail out front and gazed at the blue-on-blue lake and sky before me. From the direction of the driveway, I heard the sputter and cough of an engine. I jumped off a corner of the porch and raced to the source. Next to my Explorer, a 1970’s-something Volkswagen van refused to die. The driver got out and ran to me.

“Tish!”

Sam slung her arms around my neck, almost taking me to the gravel. Strands of her long black hair landed between my lips.

I struggled free of the embrace. “Sam! You made it.” I held her at arms’ distance. “I didn’t think you were coming.”

The Volkswagen kept up its wheezing. I nodded toward the red and white vehicle. “What’s wrong with that thing?”

Sam shrugged. “Oh, you know. Old cars.”

She grabbed my arm and practically hauled me toward the cottage. Behind us, the van gave a final sputter, then was quiet.

“I’ve got to see this place,” she bubbled. “I was ecstatic when Brad said you wanted me up for a visit.”

I decided it would be rude to correct her. Brad must have spared her the details of our conversation. “I’m so glad you could make it,” I settled on saying.

“The exciting part is, I can stay until the end of August.” She squeezed my hand.

I ground to a halt just outside the kitchen door. My arm jerked in its socket as she kept walking.

She stopped and turned around.

“Wait a minute,” I said. “Brad told me a couple of weeks. What about the diner?” Surely Sam’s namesake Coney Island restaurant back in downstate Rawlings couldn’t afford to shut down the whole summer.

“That’s the best part.” She jumped up and down, looking like a gorgeous pro football cheerleader in her cutoff denim shorts and white blouse tied over a red tank. “My awesome cousin offered to handle everything until she heads back to Michigan State in September.” She squealed and flashed me a “sis boom bah” smile.

“Great.” Come June, I’d probably be ready to go down and run the Coney myself. I wasn’t sure I could take all this “happy, happy, smiley, smiley” 24/7 for the rest of the summer. Besides, the mention of Michigan State University always made me crabby.

Sam flung back the kitchen door and stared at the room with a look of awe on her face.

“Come on,” I said. “It’s not that great.”

“It’s perfect! Look at this countertop.” She caressed the red-and-gold flecked pre-Formica. “And this floor!” She stooped to take a closer look at the rubbery tan and black tiles.

I supposed I shouldn’t expect anything less from a woman who owned a ’50s diner and a ’70s VW bus.

“Well, where do you want me?” Sam asked, adjusting the overnight bag on her shoulder.

I swallowed. My room upstairs was my cozy haven. I wasn’t about to give it up for company. That left the downstairs bedroom, the only one with a bed. But that had been my mother’s snug harbor. I wasn’t sure I could give it up to Sam either.

I sighed. It was only temporary.

I walked down the hall to the door. “You can sleep in here for now, I guess.” I swung it open. The picture window on the far wall framed the lake view to perfection. Even with the tatty mattress showing, the room felt bright and clean.

Sam brushed past me to the window ledge. “It’s gorgeous.” She turned back to look at the bed. “I brought my own stuff, so you don’t have to worry about sheets and towels and all that.” She peeked around. “I’ve even got my own bathroom!”

“Uhh . . .” I followed her in while she flipped open the medicine cabinet and checked out behind the shower curtain. “This is the only bathroom that’s working a hundred percent right now, so we’ll have to share.”

“Goody!” She slung her arms around my neck like some sugar-fed sorority sister.

All that huggy-huggy stuff had been nice once a week on Sundays back in Rawlings. But somehow now, here at the cottage, it felt more like an endurance test.

I gave her a momentary return squeeze, then pulled away. “Okay. Just so we’re straight, I get the right side of the sink top and the bottom two shelves of the medicine cabinet. We each do our own laundry and we alternate cleaning up.”

She stared at me, with a look of surprise on her face. “Yeah. Sure. Sounds good to me,” she said.

The instructions had slipped out without much forethought. Now I wondered by her look if I had said something off-base. “You’re okay with that, then?”

“I guess so. It seems kind of formal, but whatever.”

I swallowed. My hands twisted. “Did you have something else in mind?” I didn’t want to seem too stiff. She was Brad’s sister, after all. We were practically family.

Sam shrugged. “Not really. I just figured I’d set my stuff wherever there was room. I don’t want to put you out.”

I nodded, glad I hadn’t offended her in any way. “That’s fine. I’ll just leave my stuff right where it’s at then.”

“Okeydoke. So what’s for lunch? I’m starved.”

“Oh my goodness.” I clamped my hand over my mouth. “I’m supposed to be at my friend’s house for tea right now. Just help yourself to the fridge.”

I raced out the door and headed to Candice’s house, glad at least that Sam was there to guard the lodge.

“Love is patient, love is kind,” I repeated over and over along the way. I pulled into Candice’s drive. Heaven knew I’d need a good dose of patience and kindness to make it through the months ahead with Sam.