Page 42 of Lightning in a Mason Jar
The purple streak in June’s frequently colored hair was beginning to fade out, the natural gray taking over. Bailey Rae suspected the added stress of the week had kept the woman from her regular salon visit. Were all of Winnie’s friends having nightmares too?
“I’m better,” Bailey Rae lied. She’d been afraid to close her eyes again last night for fear of replay of the nightmare. “Thank you for staying over the other night and for checking on me today.”
“No thanks necessary.” June yanked the checkered tablecloth off and folded it. She fast-stepped to the side of the truck bed, reaching over to drop the fabric into the box. “I think we wereallmore than a little shaken by the news of that poor fisherman. It was almost like losing Winnie all over again.” Her voice cracked on the last words.
“I hear you,” Bailey Rae said softly. Every day felt like losing Winnie anew.
Kneeling to unhook Skeeter’s leash from the table leg, she saw one last painted rock with a weeping willow stenciled on the smooth, flat surface. She started to toss it into the box, then hesitated. Surely she had room for one tiny memento in her Airstream, in honor of all the times she and Winnie had stenciled patterns on stones. Bailey Rae clenched her fist around the treasure.
Winnie was a collector of rocks, each one representing a memory. Once the Mason jars on her kitchen windowsill were filled, Winniepainted a few and shared them with others to make space for new rocks. New memories. While passing Bailey Rae a palette of oils and a brush, Winnie allowed silences to stretch between them as they looked for the latest, smoothest stones to decorate. A patient woman, proving she wasn’t going anywhere, she’d given Bailey Rae as much quiet space as she needed. After a few art sessions, Winnie commented how the overflowing rocks were like stockpiled emotions, and when they overflowed, sometimes a person had to find a way to showcase the most important ones.
June tapped the edge of the market table with her knuckle. “Bailey Rae? Earth calling Bailey Rae?”
“Oh, sorry.” Bailey Rae jolted, shifting her focus to June and tucking the rock into the pocket of her jean shorts. “What were you saying?”
“I was chatting up Officer Underwood earlier, the fella who took your statement by the river.” June leaned closer. “I slid in some questions about Gia—an easy-enough segue since she’s the drowned man’s sister-in-law. Anyway, I’m sad to say she never did file a report for an order of protection against her husband.”
“That’s disappointing.” To say the least. She was keenly aware that Aunt Winnie wouldn’t have failed. “I’m worried about her but running out of ideas to help.”
Bailey Rae wanted to race down to the police station and shout for justice. Except Winnie had lectured her more than once about catching more flies with honey. All a part of Winnie’s ongoing crusade to teach Bailey Rae about overcoming her anger-management problem.
She slammed the tailgate closed just as Libby’s voice carried on the wind. Keith pushed her wheelchair while Thea and her husband walked arm in arm alongside. Bailey Rae wanted to climb into the cab of her truck with her dog, go home, and crawl under the covers until the grief and frustration eased inside her.
No sooner had the thought formed than a memory blindsided her of hiding under a blanket in the back of her mother’s old station wagon, with the paneled siding and squealing brakes.
Bailey Rae dug deep and plastered a smile on her face, waving to her approaching friends. “I’m all out of the peaches. Sorry.”
Thea tucked her gloved hand deeper in the crook of her husband’s arm. “Looks like you sold mosteverything. Congratulations, dear.”
“One step closer to moving.” Why did she feel like there was unfinished business for her here, no matter how much of the old barn she cleared out?
“In the meantime, you know you’re welcome to stay with us. We have all those empty rooms since the kids moved away.”
Smiling, Bailey Rae shook her head. “Mr. Councilman, do you offer those spare rooms to everyone in town?”
“Only family,” Howard Tyler said, ever the politician. Polished and affable. The winning combination. Along with his family’s money from their paper mill.
Bailey Rae scratched her tightening throat. “Maybe I’ll take y’all up on that when I come to visit.”
Thea rubbed her elbow. “I’m going to hold you to that—”
Libby interrupted, waggling her cane from the wheelchair. “Thea, see that young lady over there? Doesn’t she look just like that teenager Winnie and I helped from North Carolina? She wouldn’t leave her dog behind, because how could she abandon her to the hands of—”
“Howard, honey,” Thea interrupted, hugging her hubby’s arm tighter. “If we hurry, we can get some fresh fruit before that last truck pulls away. Libby, would you like some too?”
“Oh yes, I’ve got a hankering for blueberry pancakes.” Libby grabbed the arms of her wheelchair and began to push upward, only to sag back. “I seem to be feeling a little weak today. I must have put in too much overtime at the paper mill. The assembly line is easier than when I worked custodial. But still. Maybe I’ll just sit here for a spell. Where’s Keith?”
Their close group went silent, the sorrow heavy as Libby inched even further away, retreating to a time when she and her friend had been able to help others. It hurt Bailey Rae to see, so she could only imagine how the woman’s decline pained the friends who’d known her for decades.
June squeezed Bailey Rae’s elbow, whispering, “I should help Keith. When Libby starts like this, she goes downhill fast. Are you okay with loading the rest?”
“I’ve got everything under control,” Bailey Rae said, understanding how much June would want to be with her friend right now. “Keith needs you far more than I do right now.”
When she was a kid, she’d thought that Keith and June were a couple. After all, they were about the same age. Later, as Keith married and divorced again and again, Bailey Rae realized they weren’t an item. Their connection was more of a brother and sister sort. They were a part of this strange family that went out of its way to help each other and just about anyone else who blew through town.
What would it have been like to add Gia and Cricket to the community? They would have fit right in. And she really didn’t want to think about how the only thing she looked forward to involved time spent with Martin. Because she tried so hard not to be like Yvonne.
Sure, Martin wasn’t like the men her mother had chosen, but that didn’t stop the fear of lowering her guard and losing control of her life. Better to focus on things she could fix, like checking in on Gia and readying for her final market on the Fourth of July.
