Chasing Rainbows A Novel - By Long, Kathleen Page 0,33
in the car.”
I paid for Ashley’s peas, then dragged her toward the parking lot, not saying another word until we were both settled in the car, seatbelts clicked into place.
“Start talking.”
“Do you have a can opener?” She gazed lovingly at the can of peas. Her avoidance technique could use some work, but you had to give the kid points for trying.
“No.” I plucked the can from her grip and set it behind her seat. “Why aren’t you in school? How did you get here? Do you have any idea how angry your mother is with me?”
Silence stretched between us as she stared straight ahead, her eyes growing wide. When she turned to face me, I expected a full confession. Wrong.
“Can I run back in for a can opener?”
“What is so urgent about the peas?” I’ll admit I let her pea fixation sidetrack me from my inquisition, but the whole thing was downright weird.
“They make me happy.” Ashley shrugged her petite shoulders.
“Peas make you happy?” My disbelieving tone climbed a few octaves higher than normal. “You can do better than that, Ash.”
She shook her head as if her life depended on those peas. “No, I mean it. They make me happy. I need them, Aunt Bernie. I need them.”
Either the kid suffered from a serious vitamin deficiency or she was simply a freak in the craving department. But then, look at her mom. Maybe the apple didn’t fall too far from the tree.
“What’s wrong with a good old chocolate bar?”
Ashley wrinkled her nose as if I’d suggested chicken liver. “Gross. Just peas, thank you.”
I started the ignition and backed out of my parking spot. “I’m sure your mother’s got a can opener at home.”
“She’ll kill me.”
“Should have thought of that before you cut school.”
“Can we go to your house? Please? I’ll tell you everything.”
The promise of a full confession made my decision an easy one. “Afterward, we’re calling your mother.”
Ashley slumped back against the passenger seat, as if I’d told her she had only two hours to live. “Fine.”
I bit back my smile. She might make you want to strangle her more often than not, but the kid had spunk, and spunk was a very good thing indeed.
o0o
“The best portion of a man’s life is his little, nameless, unremembered acts of kindness and love.”
I’d left a message on Diane’s cell phone when we reached my house, and Ashley now sat at my kitchen table, jumping at the slightest noise as if her mother were going to send a team of truancy enforcers through the door at any moment.
Poindexter’s chin sat planted firmly on Ashley’s knee and, if I wasn’t mistaken, the dog was smiling. He’d probably begun to think the world had ended and he and I were the only two creatures left alive. The look of relief in his eyes had been unmistakable when Ashley walked through the door.
She spooned in a mouthful of peas, then eyed her bowl as if she might lick it. “Do you have any more?”
Peas? Not in this lifetime.
“I’ll look.” But I knew better. If the kid wanted nacho chips, popcorn, or chocolate in any shape, size, or form, she’d be in business. But peas?
I stared into my pantry, past the zillion boxes of doggie treats. It was immediately apparent who ate better in this house. Back in the far corner of the middle shelf, I saw something shiny. Something round. The top of a can. Soup, I guessed, but I guessed wrong.
I lifted the can out of the pantry and screwed up my face in surprise. Peas? In my house? Maybe Ryan had put them there. Or maybe they’d been there since the previous owners had moved out.
I checked the can for any sign of rust or dents or bulges or whatever else you were supposed to check for. I also checked for an expiration date, but couldn’t find one.
Ashley swallowed, her eyes fixated on the can in my hand as if she were a vampire and I held the longest, most tender neck in town.
“I’m not sure about this.” I shook my head. “Your parents are angry enough over my driving you to the party. If I gave you botulism, they might really be pissed.”
Ashley didn’t say a word, her eyes never leaving the can.
The kid was starting to freak me out.
Thankfully, the phone rang. I snatched up the receiver, tossed the can into the pantry and flattened my back