Page 12 of True Confessions

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“Yes, ma’am.”

“But they were”-she pointed to the glass case- “next to the milk.”

“Not right next,” he assured her. He took the chocolate milk from beneath his arm and gestured toward Hope. “Adam, say hello to Ms. Spencer.”

“Hi. Do you need me to scare any more bats?”

She shook her head as she gazed from one to the other.

“What kind of doughnuts did you get for breakfast?” Dylan asked his son. “Powdered sugar?”

“Nope, chocolate.”

“Well, I guess I can choke down a few chocolate.”

“We’re going fishing for Dolly Varden,” Adam informed her.

Obviously they thought worms in the milk-and-juice case was perfectly normal. “Dolly who?”

Deep laughter rumbled within Dylan’s chest as if he were extremely amused. “Trout,” he answered. “Come on, son. Let’s go catch some Dolly who.”

Adam laughed, a younger, childlike version of his father.

“City girls,” Dylan scoffed as he walked away.

“Yeah,” Adam added, the squeak of his rubber-soled sneakers keeping perfect time with the heavier tread of his father’s worn boots.

Really, who were they to laugh at her? Hope wondered as she watched them move toward the front counter. She wasn’t the crazy one who thought worms belonged next to milk. She was normal. She set the bottle of juice in her basket and made her way to the housewares aisle. Across rows of Comet and boxes of dog food, she watched a large man with a potbelly, a handlebar mustache, and a blood-smeared apron approach from the back. As he rang up Dylan’s purchases, Hope moved up and down the aisles and dumped two pairs of pink rubber gloves, half a gallon of pine cleaner, and a can of Raid into her basket. In the small produce department, she smelled the peaches for freshness.

“See you around, Ms. Spencer.”

She glanced up from her peaches to where Dylan stood holding the door open for A

dam. He looked over at her, one corner of his mouth curved up, and then he was gone.

“Are you ready to be rung up?” the big man behind the counter asked. “ ‘Cause if you’re gonna be a while yet, I’ve got some meat to wrap in the back.”

“I’m ready.” She placed the peaches in a produce baggie and walked to the counter.

“Are you the woman with the car alarm?”

Hope set the basket on the counter, next to a display of cigarettes and lighters. “Yes,” she answered warily.

“Ada called me last night when that thing went off,” he said, his big fingers pecking out the keys on the cash register.

“I’m sorry she disturbed you.”

“She nearly choked to death on a chicken bone, you know.”

Apparently Hope was the only one who found that odd.

He checked the price sticker on the Raid, then rang it up. “Are you going to be in town long?”

“Six months.”

“Oh, yeah?” He looked up. “Are you a tree hugger?”

“No.”


Tags: Rachel Gibson Fiction