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I feel better and better about my decision as the night goes on. The entire time I put my bed together and crash into it, I’m breathing easier. It’s early, but I’m working the early shift in the morning to help Daphne go through inventory, so I decide to go to bed. Starting tomorrow, Jodie Jones is a memory. There are plenty of fish in the sea. That’s the beauty about being a surfer with no ties—and no desire to make any.
Too bad Jodie’s face is the first one that pops into my memory when I close my eyes to sleep.
5
Jodie
“You’re going to be late for work this morning, Jodie,” Mom says, censure in her tone. I hold back a sigh. I don’t want to tell her about what happened last night. Cherry Falls is a small town and I figure my freaking announcement at the Fireside last night has spread everywhere. The only thing saving me is that my mother and father don’t really go out much. Mom works in Syn City—a fact that, as a deacon’s wife in our church, she despises—and thankfully does most of her shopping there. I’m hoping they will remain in the dark. It’s a slim hope, but I need something to cling to.
“I don’t have work today,” I tell her instead, kind of lying, but kind of not. “Actually, I’m thinking of finding a new job. I’m getting kind of stressed-out working dispatch. I was thinking about finding something less stressful.”
Until this moment, my father has kept his nose in his newspaper, but with my words, he drops it and those eagle eyes of his stare straight at me. I do my best to keep from panicking and not jumping as Mom drops a bowl onto the counter.
“You’re what?” she gasps. “But Jodie, you love your job and there’s not a lot of jobs in Cherry Falls these days unless it’s tourist season.
“Grace Gilroy mentioned there might be an opening at the Secret Garden Bookshop. I think I might apply there. It’d be less stress and I wouldn’t have to work late at night,” I murmur, and I know I’m appealing to their protective instincts, but I’m desperate here. I don’t dare tell them why I want to quit. I really don’t want to go into my announcement at the Fireside Bar and Grill last night neither. If fate is merciful, my parents will never know about that.
“That might be better,” Mom says, grudgingly. Dad just lets out an annoyed breath, but that means I’m off the hook for now, so I’ll take it. The doorbell rings and Mom frowns. “Who would come calling this early in the morning. Do you think it’s an emergency?”
“What kind of emergency would it be, Marge? We’re all here,” Dad grumbles.
“Well, then who could it be, Stanley?” Mom asks, her voice full of annoyance.
“Gee, Marge, I don’t know. Maybe you should answer the damn door,” Dad grumbles, still looking at his paper.
I close my eyes. I swear Mom and Dad love one another, but sometimes I’m convinced they don’t like each other at all.
“I’m busy. You could go answer, you know. I mean, it could be someone here to rob us. You should try and protect—”
“I’ll answer the door,” I tell Mom before they start another all-day argument.
“What if it’s someone here to rob us?” Mom calls out.
“I’ll call out a warning to you before he kills me,” I yell back as I reach the door.
“That’s not funny Josephine Jones!” Mom yells, making me wince. I always know I’m in trouble when she pulls out my full name.
When I open the door my stomach stinks. There, standing in front of me, is Sheriff Larson. “Morning Jodie”, he says.
I take a breath, wishing the floor would swallow me up. “Morning,” I whisper, feeling uncomfortable.
“I was wondering, if I might have a word with you.”
“What’s up?” I ask, trying my best to make the words sound like I don’t have any concerns or any idea why he’s here. It’s silly, because we both know I do.
“I wanted to talk to you about Deputy Littleton,” he announces, looking extremely uncomfortable.
“Sheriff, I’d really rather not talk about Deke.”
“I think we need to address it. Especially since my best dispatcher didn’t show up for work this morning.”
“I called in sick,” I feel compelled to point out. “Plus, I made sure there was someone there to cover for me.”
“You’re entitled to a sick day. I’m sure you’ve got several stored up since you never take a day off,” he says, and I shrug. “I’m just wondering if you are planning on coming back to work.”
He stares at me with this impenetrable stare. I don’t really know how to answer him, so I just decide to tell him the truth.
“I don’t really know. I want to be honest with you, Sheriff Larson—”
