Page 17 of Townshipped
She laughs and finally breaks our eye contact.
My laughter follows hers.
Em covers her face with her hands.
“Sorry,” she says. “I don’t know what made me do that.”
I laugh. “I have to say the last stare down I’ve gotten into was years ago. You’re a worthy opponent.”
7
AIDEN
The sound of crunching snow and pebbles carries into the house as the cars pull up the gravel driveway outside.
“That’s more than likely Hazel, our nurse,” I tell Em. “She’s got Jesse with her. He’s harmless, but … well, you’ll see.”
I walk toward the front door and Em follows behind, moving closer to me than she has since she arrived, seeming fragile and uncertain, not at all like the woman who bantered with me over breakfast.
“You’ll get through this. I’ll be right here,” I say in a quiet voice as I glance through the beveled glass panes on the door.
Jesse cuts ahead of Hazel to make his way up my steps. There he goes, making his presence known. The seriousness he applies to his job would be admirable if we didn’t live in a town where most of us leave our doors unlocked unless we’re going away for a week, and crime consists of hauling Cooter in for drunk and disorderly every once in a blue moon.
We’re a sleepy Ohio farm town. And Jesse acts like he’s a detective onBlue Bloodscracking a case. He’s also mastered the stare. You know the one? It’s the way a television cop crosses his arms to accentuate his pecs and biceps while he cocks one eyebrow and glares at the criminal from under the lowered opposing eyebrow.
The stare.
I picture Jesse standing in his bathroom in his Donald Duck boxers practicing the stance and facial expression until he can bring it up at will.
How do I know he wears Donald Duck boxers?
I wish I didn’t. We live in small-town Ohio. I know things about my fellow townspeople that I could have happily gone my whole lifetime without knowing.
I can only imagine what a real missing person case is going to do to Jesse. He’ll be like a kid on his first trip to Disney World, speaking of Donald Duck.
And I should mention that Jesse is one of the single young men in town. He had his eye on a hairdresser friend of mine named Laura, but she was never interested. Now that she’s engaged to our local YouTube genius, Rob, Jesse is on the hunt for the next potential Mrs. Heinz.
Jesse lifts his burly arm. I open the door as Jesse’s hand moves in for the knock and he tips forward a little, losing his balance. He quickly attempts to regain composure.
“Morning, Aiden,” he says in a far more formal tone than usual.
He’s laying this on thick.
“Jesse,” I say with a nod, waving him in and greeting Hazel as she walks up behind him.
“Ma’am,” Jesse says to Em, bowing lightly as if he’s a guy in that Regency period show,Bridgerton, that all the women in town went gaga over.
Put a man in a ruffled shirt and have him bow while speaking in a British accent and women swoon. That’s a fact. Not that I’ll be trying those tactics anytime soon. And I will neither confirm nor deny watching the show myself.
Em looks at Jesse with a puzzled expression. She levels her features and says, “Hi, I’m Em.”
“Well now,” Jesse says, crossing his arms and looking down at her. “That’s yet to be proven.”
“Jesse,” I say with a warning tone to my voice.
The last thing Em needs is to feel like she’s a guest star onLaw and Order: Podunk Town Unit, about to be put through a reading of her Miranda rights before Jesse throws the book at her.
“You’re right,” Em says. “I’m not really sure what my name is. Em seems to fit, but sometimes it doesn’t feel right.”
