Page 8 of Lightning in a Mason Jar
“Yes, ma’am.” Bailey Rae nodded. “But since she’s passed away ...”
“Oh no. No, no, no, no ...” Gia gasped, fidgeting and looking every which way like a bird about to take flight. Her agitation grew along with the rise of her voice.
Even Skeeter lifted his head with a whimper.
Gia clutched her daughter’s hand and sagged back against the table, her breaths hitching faster and faster. One tear streamed down her face, then another.
The woman was fast on her way to a full-blown panic attack.
Libby stabbed her cane into the ground and pushed out of her wheelchair, grasping the edge of the table for extra balance as she made her way around the edge to Gia. “Breathe in, breathe out ... slower.That’s it. Smell the flowers. Blow out the candle. Smell the flowers. Blow out the candle.”
Aunt Winnie used to say the same when Yvonne would show up unannounced. Even at the memory, Bailey Rae’s chest went tight all over again. Like a beast was parked on her rib cage. And the beast had a name. Fear. Fear that she would be hauled off in her mom’s station wagon with everything they owned, headed to heaven only knew where. Sometimes sleeping in the back. Wasn’t “camping” fun?
She breathed in the equivalent of a bouquet herself and blew out a few more candles, grounding herself in the present. Gia’s fear mattered most now. Bailey Rae’s was in the past.
Gia pressed her fingers against the center of her rib cage. “I have nowhere to go, and if Ian finds me ... I’m scared of what he’ll do.”
Bailey Rae carried her chair around to the woman. Skeeter loped behind until he reached the end of his tether. “Take a moment to sit and catch your breath. Have you filed a police report?”
Libby snorted. “If you can get one of them over here. They’re in Keystone Cops mode directing traffic after that wild pig incident. Thea still hasn’t managed to convince her husband to put in another traffic light on Main Street.”
What a time for Libby’s memory to kick into overdrive.
Gia backed away a step, hitching her bag on her shoulder. “Never mind. I, um, shouldn’t have bothered you.”
“Hold your horses,” Bailey Rae called, desperate for some Winnie-wisdom in navigating the woman’s situation. “I’m sure I can figure something out.”
Libby snorted again.Cane stamp. Stamp.“You’re a short-order cook, not a superhero.”
Bailey Rae bit back a smile and returned her attention to Gia. “Please wait. Let me text Officer Underwood and see if he can break free. He should be able to steer you toward available resources. And I’ll give you my number as well.”
It felt good to help in some way. Maybe not at a Winnie level, but assisting all the same. Bailey Rae scrolled through her cell phone until she found the contact info and tapped out a text. Then she grabbed a pen from a Mason jar and jotted her name and number on the back of a market map.
Her phone lit with a response from Officer Underwood that he was sending the game warden—Officer Martin Perez—her way.
Great. Maybe he could write her another ticket.
Sighing, she grabbed a rag doll for the child, channeling Winnie after all in doling out something from the pack-rat collection. The bright-orange yarn hair was rough against her fingertips, simultaneously soothing and abrasive. Like her memories of playing with one so similar, crafted by Libby from a basket of clothes that couldn’t be mended.
Everywhere she turned, those phantoms from the past blocked her path forward.
Kneeling, Bailey Rae passed over the doll, yarn hair trailing. “Here you go, sweetie. A new friend to keep you company.”
Wide eyes swept upward to her mom. Silent.
Perfectly normal to ask permission from her mother. But the lack of excitement on that wan little face? Far from normal.
The woman dragged in a ragged breath and nodded to her child. “Cricket, be sure to say thank you to the nice lady.”
Bailey Rae stood, feeling helpless—a bit like that gum on a bootheel. She’d done everything she could for the woman. Yeah, Aunt Winnie probably would have done more, but Bailey Rae wasn’t like her aunt.
The metaphorical beast on her chest turned into an elephant.
She was right to leave, to put this town and all the elephants behind her. Only then would she be free—able—to become a person worthy of Winnie’s second chance. Because right now, Bailey Rae fell way short of the mark.
Martin Perez’s favorite days on the job involved no people. Only animals, because animals didn’t lie. Today had been flush with people and only one wild pig. And the “people time” wasn’t close to an end.
Martin jogged past booths, weaving through the crowd, eyes locked on the cluster of folks around Bailey Rae Rigby’s spot. He had hoped his job as a game warden in this sleepy little town would be low key and peaceful, the perfect place to recover from the nightmares spawned by his military career. No such luck.
