The Painting

#78 Intertwined - Fite Fuaite

Packing took us less than an longer than usual considering we owned very few things. Before leaving we stopped at the B&B to let Grace know we were going. She had returned to her bubbly self – the broom tucked back away in the closet – she gave us both a tight hug.

"Now I expect you both back in July. And don't let this vacation time get to your head, I don't want you two to come back here and be on that California time."

We made our way on foot to the train station, walking on the side of the road then meandering onto the forested path. It was after dinner and the summer sun was sinking into the tree line as the birds called overhead. This time of day was my favorite, second only to a full moon at midnight.

The world seemed to slow down as the temperatures shifted and the wildlife settled in for the night. Evenings were a liminal space, between dawn and dark. They were paradoxical, uncertain, yet constant. I could never predict the color of the sunset of the scale of warmth the sun would cast on the blades of grass. But I knew it would always be there, and that I would feel safe.

"It reminds me of you." I turned to Lyle before realizing that all had been said in my head.

Patiently she waited for me to explain as the crunch of sticks tracked our progress through the woods.

"You're constant. I didn't understand at first why, I didn't know how someone could stick around through the knowing and not knowing – and maybe I still don't completely. But I'm thankful for it." I raised our intertwined fists. "It's like we kept meeting and loosing each other and then meeting again."

"We've been through a lot."

"But we're still here."

"We are." She smiled at me then stopped.

Cupping my face in her hands we kissed. The fading sunlight pin pointing the freckles in her eyes as we pulled away.

We walked a few more minutes in silence. As we did, I caught her looking over her shoulder a few times. She tried to hide it, faking as though she was brushing her hair or a bug off her backpack strap but I knew exactly what she was looking for. The question was if she thought she'd find it.

The third time I caught her I asked, "Do you think they have Smith and Jones in custody too?"

She froze and gave me a sheepish look. "I hope so."

"Would they come after us?"

She ran her free hand through her hair. "Not with what the police know."

I bit at my lip recalling the day of Monroe's arrest. Frankie drove us to the police station where he had already set up a meeting with his friend on the force. Beth and Ivy met us there. At first we met only with Frankie's connection, refusing to speak to any other officer for fear that they were on Monroe's bankroll.

Lyle and I testified to Monroe's actions at the pond, and his ordered attack at Beth and Ivy's. We each filled in the details trying as best we could to recall the exact date and times of his threatening phone call and visits to X-Enterprises. Beth and Ivy did the same providing access to their home which was untouched since the day of the attack, and described the officer to a sketch artist.

Frankie covered Monroe's fraudulent business dealings hinting at components of Monroe's finances that necessitated a closer look.

It'd only been three days but we hadn't heard anything more. I assumed updates would be hitting the majors news publications and tabloids – if they hadn't already. Since we'd unplugged the television and avoided the newspapers that got delivered to the B&B Lyle and I were not up to date.