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“Oh?” I look over my shoulder just enough to see a new reporter talking about something, but the speakers are playing country music instead of the broadcast, and Derrick left a sink full of dishes that need my attention more than some news story.
“Thank goodness.” He sips his pale ale. “Don’t like when kids go missing.”
A hard knot settles in my chest. “Me neither.”
Mr. Murdock adjusts his jean jacket, one he rarely wears, and I catch a flash of his biker patch. I fumble the glass in my hand, nearly dropping it to the floor. I’d almost forgotten he was in the same motorcycle club as my parents…before that terrible tornado outbreak that took them away.
“Nice catch,” he says.
“Don’t tell anyone.” I add a wink to my grin. I’ve gotten good it, grinning through the pain. It’s been years, but sometimes it just loves to sneak up and bite me like a dang mosquito.
“You know,” he says. “One of them girls was almost your age.”
“Oh?”
“Earlier twenties or something?” He shrugs. “Guess I should stop calling ‘em kids,” he says with a chuckle.
Beyond him, the way-too-heavy old door groans open. My cousin Tabitha fills its frame. Her youngest is propped on one hip, and her massive bag hangs from the other shoulder. Her other three kids don’t wait for her to enter before they slip around her and make a beeline for the small cluster of arcade machines in the far corner. Derrick installed them two years ago, the product of a late-night closing chat after one too many of the old timers complained about children screaming during their game. If you give them something to do while they wait on their food, you get a lot less fussin’.
“Wren!” She practically yells across the place, giving me a far too exuberant wave.
Always smiling and upbeat, that one. But I guess she has to be to wrangle all those kids all the time, especially with her husband always out of town traveling for one construction job or another. Though, his work schedule might be a good thing. As Gran once said, all he has to do is look at her to get her pregnant, and they’ve already got their hands full.
I return her wave as she hustles my way, no doubt here to pick up a take-out order. Just like I have my regular crew at the bar, we have regulars for take-out too. But for Tabitha, this is a treat. Jolene’s prices are reasonable, but budgets only stretch so far.
“Order for Tabitha!” I call to the kitchen window.
“You will never guess what news I have,” Tabitha gushes as she cozies up the bar, baby Abigail still propped on her hip.
I lean against my side, the glassware forgotten. It can wait. “Hit me with it.”
“Matt is coming home on leave soon!”
“Really?” I bounce in my boots.
Her older brother has been deployed for months. We get letters and have the rare video call, but boy, will it be nice to see him again. Though, it'd be a lie to say I didn’t envy him traveling the world, seeing new people, and new places. It’s all I’ve wanted for so long. But he was the oldest, first out, and by the time I graduated high school, Tabitha was already pregnant with her first and still deep in depression after her dad vanished. She couldn’t look after Gran, and I couldn’t leave either of them. Travel could wait. They couldn’t.
“Yes! And he’s going to stay for a while. It’ll be so nice to have his help with the kids.” She bounces Abigail and leans in closer. “I was thinking about a little getaway with just the hubs, maybe a long weekend somewhere.”
“You could always ask me, you know. I could take a few days.”
Tabitha rolls her eyes. “You got your hands full, Wren. Ain’ giving Gran a heart attack having y’all watch after these hoodlums. Paul!” She snaps at her oldest.
Whatever he did, I missed it, but she doesn’t miss a thing. And she’s right. I love her and the kids, but they’re a wild bunch. I can’t help offering though. It feels wrong not to. But every time she turns me down, there’s an internal sigh of relief I can’t deny. Of course, the kids are the same reason I can’t ask for her help with Gran. She’s got her hands full too.
“I know he can’t wait to see you and Gran too,” Tabitha says, sliding back to our conversation as if she hadn’t just chewed her oldest out across the room.
“Your mom’s gotta be pleased too.”
“Well…” She glances away, over to where her kids smash the Pac-Man buttons. “You know Mom.”
“Yeah.” I give a weak, forced smile, the mirror of hers.
Aunt Virginia’s exploits would put Blanche Devereaux to shame. She’s slept with at least half the town, single and married, and many of those were before her husband, Uncle Mark, up and left seven years ago. Rumor around town is that he got fed up with her and hung himself, but that’s not true, at least not as much as we know. He just left. Never came back. I keep waiting for the day when Aunt Virginia will finally wake up and stop living for someone other than herself. Tabitha and I both do. Gran is Uncle Mark’s mom, not hers, so I can almost reason why she never helps us out, but she could at least spend time with her grandkids once in a while.
“Order up!” The call from the kitchen breaks the awkward silence that descended over the mention of Aunt Virginia. I should have known better than to bring her up, but if anyone could get that woman together, it’d be her son.
“So.” I slide over to the register. “Let’s see, three meat and threes?”
