So far, Miranda Jessup Buckley has been jilted, fired and left to take care of her ex-lover's child.   Finally released from the hospital, she goes home to her momma's house with Waylon in tow.  She waits on news about Waylon's dad, who is still missing.

 

 

 

                 ******************

 

My momma is in her glory taking care of both me and Waylon. Every night she makes one of Waylon's favorite meals.  Even has him in the kitchen with her, measuring out flour and chopping vegetables.   They both seem to really enjoy each other's company.

 

I ask Mitch to let me know if they get any word on Dougie's wherabouts.  He promises me he will but it's been several days since I asked him and there's been nothing.

 

"I'm gonna go sit out on the porch.  Y'all call when dinner's ready."  I pull my sweater off the coat hook by the front door and step outside.

 

The temperature is changing.  It's subtle.  That's how fall sneaks in here in North Carolina, at least these parts.  No grand trees ablaze in orange and red.  Just the grass getting a little duller and the sea oats changing from a mild green to a more golden blush.

 

I lean back on the porch swing and listen to the distant honking of some Canadian geese that fly somewhere beyond the tree line.

 

Mitch pulls up, in his squad car.  It's after five,  he's usually off by now.  He's still in uniform.

 

"You get the short straw?  That why you're still on duty?"

 

He smiles but it seems forced. "Has, uh, Waylon heard from his daddy?"

 

The hair on the back of my neck stands up. "Not that I know of. Why?"

 

He steps up on the porch and glances inside. "We found his truck.  It was out in No man's land.  Down one of those roads that lead to God knows where."

 

"And?"

 

He shrugs his shoulders.  "There was some blood.  Not much.  It could have been old.  He did construction.  Haven't known a guy who did construction that hasn't bled all over his vehicle at one time or another."  He motions for me to slide over and he joins me on the swing. "I know it's wrong to ask you this, but Missy is refusing to cooperate with us ... unless," he looks into my eyes.  "Unless you come talk to her in the jail.  This may be our only hope of getting  a confession from her.  Her lawyer is preparing to ask for a low bond.  It wouldn't surprise me if she got released and just took off."

 

"I'll do it.  Hell, I gotta follow this through.  She loves bragging to me."

 

He slips his arm around my shoulder. "There's nobody quite like you, you know that?"  Very gently, he kisses me.  "How's your shnoz today?"

 

"Getting there.  Still can't sneeze or blow my nose but the swelling is going down and the bruises have a very festive yellow tint now."

 

"You look good in yellow," he teases. "But, there ain't much you can't pull off.  That fetching red vest you wear at work, for instance.  Takes convenience store to a whole new level."

 

I know he's trying to get my mind off of the double whammy he just served up.  "How'd yall find the truck?  Who found it?"

 

"Some wildlife photographer.  Said she saw it two weeks ago when she was out there taking pictures.  Thought it was odd that it was still there."

 

"Did anybody check the area? "

 

"Miranda, yes.  We searched there for a few hours.  It's mainly swamp and marsh.  I find it hard to believe that Missy could overpower him and haul him into the swamp by herself."

 

"She watched her husband die, while eating her sandwich on the steps not ten feet away.  She lured Ed Preston down to Haynes Pond then cracked the back of his head open.  Do you honestly think she would have a problem with Dougie?"

 

"I don't guess so."

 

"Maybe she had an accomplice.  Some boy toy who," I say then stop.  "She could have tricked someone into helping her like she did with Tyler."

 

Mitch closed his eyes.  "Maybe she will tell you when you meet with her."

 

The door opens and Waylon peeks out.  "Sheriff, are you here for dinner?"

 

"No.  I'm taking Tyler's shift one night per week.  Just came over to make sure Miranda was behaving." He winks at me.

 

"Well, dinner's ready." Waylon looks at me then steps back inside.

 

"I better go in.  That boy has an appetite and if you aren't faster than he is, well, you just might miss out on a meal."

 

Mitch stands, then holds out his hand to me.  "Go in and eat, Tiger.  I'll call you tomorrow and we can set up a time for you to come in."

 

I nod.  "Mitch,  don't stop looking for Dougie.  If not for me, do it for that kid."

 

"We're going to find him.  I promise you that."

 

I stand at the door long after he drives away.  I know he will keep looking.  He's never asked me if I'm still in love with Dougie.  And if he did, honestly, I'm not sure I could answer him.  I do still love Dougie, but I'm not in love with him.  Not sure I ever was.  But I love that kid in the kitchen.  I want Dougie found.  If he isn't alive, at least give Waylon closure.  

 

"Come on, Miranda.  It's getting cold," Momma calls from the doorway to the kitchen.

 

I put a smile on before joining them.  I can tell Waylon is waiting for me to say something.  His eyes dart from the dish on the table to me then to my momma.

 

"Is that a homemade potpie?"

 

He grins.  "Chicken potpie."

 

"This little chef added bacon to it. Been cooking this for forty years and never once thought about adding bacon to it.  Culinary genius."

 

I pull out my chair and put my napkin in my lap.  "Well, hurry up and put some on my plate.  I'm starving."

 

We eat.  Scrape every morsel of food from the baking dish that we can.  I live in this moment, careful to keep the what ifs out of my head.  

 

Tomorrow, I'll think about Missy and Dougie.  Tomorrow, is another day, after all. 

 

 

To be continued ...