Page 4 of Hiss and Make Up
"I can't put on my sock, Uncle Marc," whined Hannah, the oldest, and the only one dressed to leave the house.
"Okay, sit still," he told her, squatting to stretch the socks over her feet. "There. Now, where's my hug?"
Hannah wrapped her arms around his neck, then skipped off to find her backpack. A few moments later, the two younger girls returned with long shirts and leggings instead of pajamas. Marc hugged each as they rushed to wait by the door.
Since he lived across the empty lot, he came over as often as he could. He’d play with his nieces or help Denise when her husband was out of town. No matter how many times he came over though, he still wasn’t used to this scene when they had to leave the house.
Denise homeschooled all three of the older kids, even with a new baby, so the house was in a permanent state of organized chaos. He’d mucked up Denise’s systems enough times to learn that he wasn’t very good at helping out. His main contribution was listening to the girls ramble on about whatever they were growing or collecting that week—rocks, butterflies, old maps, germs.
Still, something about this tornado of children soothed him. Every time he visited, the girls would squeal and spin around him as they asked his favorite color or what kind of pretend soup he’d like them to make. They wrapped him in their playtime like a cozy old quilt.
He took the baby from Denise and placed her in the car seat. "Where's Josh again?"
"Houston." Denise shoved a long sleeve T-shirt over little Alexi's head, only to struggle even more matching arms with sleeves.
"Again? Didn't he just get back from there last week?"
Sure, his brother-in-law worked for an oil company. Sure, Josh had long hours. Sure, he had to travel a lot. Lots of people around here did. But even when the guy was home and off work he never seemed to be around. Marc could never shake the feeling that something wasn’t right with the whole situation. Something Marc swore to figure out one day.
"Not now.” Denise brought Alexi to Hannah and Carly who were waiting to help with their little sister's sandals. "Does it look like I'm in the mood to have that argument this morning?"
Marc let out a slow whistle and rolled his eyes. It was a dangerous move, but Denise was far too busy to deal with him. He double-checked the baby’s carrier straps and made silly faces at her.
"Fine. Change of subject,” he said. There would be plenty of time to discuss his brother-in-law’s absence later. “Guess who I spoke to this morning and who’s coming out to see about the s-n-a—"
Denise waved her arms, desperately signaling for him to stop. "Hannah can s-p-e-l-l now."
"Spell! Mommy spelled 'spell’." Hannah giggled.
"Very good!" Marc high-fived his niece. "Anyway, guess who."
"Do I look like I have time to guess?” She opened the door and directed the three girls to the van.
Marc took a deep breath and steadied his voice. "Sierra."
"Sierra?" Denise froze halfway through the door. "Sierra Menard? That little troublemaker from down the street? The one who could never keep herself out of a muddy ditch or a brawl with some boy twice her size? The one who somehow always blamed everything on you? That Sierra?"
"She never blamed anything on me.” It had been fifteen years since Sierra moved from the house down the road. Marc couldn’t believe he was still having to defend her, or why Denise still felt the urge to protect him from Sierra. He was the one who was supposed to be protecting Denise here. Not the other way around.
Denise frowned and returned her attention to getting her crew into the van. "How’d she get the luxurious task of coming out to see the you-know-what?"
"I don't know. Short straw? I guess she works for the Nature Station. She called this morning after they got my email."
They walked past the shed where the snake lay dead on the other side of the thick door. Even knowing its head was smashed to pieces, Marc swore he could feel it glaring at him. Like it might call its snake buddies to come out and finish the job. Like some serpentine mafia. For all he knew, they traveled in packs like wolves. Or baboons. Baboons were even worse. Didn't they travel in groups of like a hundred or something? Troops. His middle school animal science notes were coming in handy for once. If only they had told him in sixth grade if the animal kingdom included a serpentine mafia.
“Are you sure it was her?”
“How many women do you know around here named Sierra who would make a career out of woods and snakes?”
"Point,” she said. “Did she know it was you?"
"I don't think so.” The real question was why it had disappointed him that she hadn’t recognized his voice. Not that he’d expected her to. But now he was wondering if she would remember him at all, and that opened a giant, unwelcome pit in his stomach.
Denise picked up the baby carrier and shook her head. "Don't even think about it."
“Don’t think about what?”
She smacked him on the arm with her free hand and followed the girls to the van. "Shall we examine your pitiful track record in this department?”
