Page 22 of Third Time's the Charm

Jack tucked her arm into his elbow and they strolled from one shop to the next, oblivious to my hiding place on the patio behind the potted palmettos.

“I’m so glad you came early this year. I don’t think you’ve ever done that before.” She looked up at her son.

Jack paused. A sadness seemed to possess him. “I can’t promise this every year, but I promise to try every year. I didn’t realize how much I was missing. I thought it was just a day.”

She cupped his face and patted his cheek. “You’ve grown so much these last couple of years. I know we gave you a hard time at first, but we see how hard you’re working and how sad you are when you’re alone. We don’t want your regrets. Only your best from here on out.”

“Ma…”

Grown so much. How hard you’re working. How sad you are…Damnit. That made me feel...things.

“It’s true. And I hope you’re ready. The house is going to be fuller than ever.”

I got a little jealous. I missed all of them. For a long time they were my family too. That’s the thing no one warned me about. Sure, you divorce the guy breaking your heart, but what happens with the family and friends you share? Sometimes you can keep side relationships. Most of the time people pick a side.

I lost all the Cassidys. And Jack lost all the Andersons.

Divorce sucks.

“Is Jane making the plantains?” Jack asked.

Oh…plantains…I really, really missed the Cuban meals at the Cassidy house. And now my stomach was growling again. I should probably check on my food, and Jack was moving out of earshot anyway.

Besides, I didn’t think I could stand to hear more about how much Jack changed. Oh sure, people kept saying it, but to hear it right from his mother’s mouth? To see it on his face?

I felt like crap. Mostly because what I wanted back then was what existed now. Everything was all mixed up!

I opened the door. “Hey Monica, is it ready yet?”

She ducked back into the kitchen and emerged with a white bag. “All set. Have a merry Christmas!”

“Thanks. You too.”

When I stepped out onto the sidewalk I made sure to stick to the shadows and move quickly away from the shops (and all my confused feelings.)

* * *

Mrs. Townsend really liked gin.Which was pretty normal, actually, for the mid-nineteenth century, especially a frontier town like Mistletoe Key. There were all kinds of drugs in pretty glass bottles. These “medicinals” were laced with generous amounts of alcohol, cocaine, and opium. Some even had heroin.

Anyway, as I extracted another damn near perfect Udolpho Wolfe’s Schnapps bottle from Mrs. Townsend’s refuse pit, I was as amazed at how perfect each bottle was as I washow muchalcohol she was ingesting.

“These are going to make for a beautiful display at the historical society,” Cynthia said, bagging the bottle.

“I’m more excited about the paper I’m going to write.”

“Of course you are. Man, Mrs. Townsend was high. A lot.”

“Half the island was.” This excavation was going to weave perfectly into my study of nutrition and consumption on the island from prehistory through today.

“You’re thinking about your paper again,” Cynthia chided.

“How do you know? I could be thinking about my sister, or Ryker, or whether we should use the new laser level.”

She pointed at the ground. “You just nicked the sidewall with your trowel and didn’t even notice.”

Oh dang. I pulled my hand away so I wouldn’t do something else careless. “Well, Ryker should be here soon.”

“I’m right here.”

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