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"What are you doing here?" His voice was low and held a threat that he knew he didn't need to voice in order for the message to get across.
"What kind of greeting is that, after all these years? What's it been, five years?"
His jaw tightened. "I said, 'what are you doing here,' and I meant it, Jack."
Chris's eldest brother had skin dark from the sun, thick and leathery. When he smiled, his face spider-webbed into too many lines for a man who wasn't yet forty.
"I'm here to see my baby brother," he answered. "And find out what's been happening the past few years."
Chris didn't match his brother's smile. "You don't gotta worry 'bout me, Jack. I'm fine here. Let me be, and there won't be no trouble."
"Trouble? What trouble?"
The gold from the eldest Broadmoor's tooth gleamed, and trouble dug in to stay.
Twenty-Three
Marie hadn't exactly gotten the answers she wanted. No, that wasn't entirely accurate. It sounded like she might have gotten some of it–she hadn't gotten any sort of response from Chris at all, and she wasn't exactly enjoying the feeling that at some point, the other shoe was going to drop and she was going to see exactly what had him so riled.
Nobody was going to come to her and ask her about whatever relationship she may or may not have had with the local bartender. Rumors moved fast in Applewood Junction, and just about everything else moved slow. So talk was common, and idle talk the most common of all.
Most of the time, you didn't hear any of it unless you were doing the talking or doing the listening, because as a rule, nobody ever stopped to confirm what the truth was. There wasn't a whole lot of point in asking, because if it was nonsense, then you looked like a fool. If it was true, then nobody would ever admit it in the first place.
If someone had come by, Marie reasoned, it was because there was more to it than trying to confirm a rumor. And if there were more to it, then either Chris wasn't telling her everything, or he'd run them off before they got to telling him the real reason they were there.
In the end, it didn't matter one bit which had happened, because the end result was that she didn't know what she needed to know, she wasn't told what they'd come to tell her, and that meant, sure as the sun would rise tomorrow, there would be more to deal with later.
Eventually, they would come by at a time that Chris wasn't there to act surly, and then she'd have to deal with it. The only question was how long they'd wait to deal with her, and how much she'd suffer for the wait.
Marie's head pounded. Another night of being able to
sleep should have had her almost back to normal, now. Jamie certainly seemed fine. But every time she woke up, even though hours had passed, she felt as if she'd only just closed her eyes a moment before.
She'd slept as much as she possibly could, the past three days, and she felt as if she just needed a nap to get by. Nothing she could do would improve it.
Maybe she was a little sick, the schoolteacher reasoned. With all the craziness going on, no doubt she was more prone to sickness. Worrying about Jamie and about the schoolhouse and now about all this, it wasn't good for a person's health.
She made a mental note to talk to the doctor about it, and tried to get her head back into classes. Every day was different, she knew. Some days seemed to race by. Others took a toll, seeming to last forever. And yet, at the end of the day, it was always manageable.
Today was one of the days that dragged. In the end, she'd be over it, easy as can be, but until the bell tolled out three on the clock, when she'd watch the children go, she had to bear it. All too soon she'd feel as if they hadn't been there long enough, after all.
And sure enough, though the time passed slowly, within little more time than the blink of an eye, it seemed, she was standing by the doorway, with a wisp of nostalgia as she watched the children go. All of them, of course, except for one. He had his head down on a desk, his eyes shut. Out like a light.
She was about to close the door behind her and start planning for the next day when she heard someone coming. She looked over and her worries were answered. The other shoe, it seemed, had not taken particularly long to drop.
It wasn't the same woman, of course, but she could see the same expressions, the same stiffness of manner. And, she noted, this time the husband seemed distinctly less beaten-up.
She also noticed that the clothes the couple wore were quite fine. If there were any residents of Applewood Junction who had any sort of money, Marie would have been surprised to learn about it. Daddy had some money, back in New Orleans. Nothing to put on airs over, of course, but enough that the move out west was a strain for her.
Which meant that, in all likelihood, the pair had dressed up specifically for the occasion, as if they were going to address a celebrity. The look on their faces wasn't that sort of expression, though. She took a deep breath and forced a smile.
"Can I help you?"
The woman glared while her husband, arms linked around hers, spoke softly. "You're not going to be allowed to continue this, you know."
He wore a sneer that was reflected perfectly in the way that he said the line.
"I'm sorry, Mr…?"
