For You (The ‘Burg #1)(137)
Author: Kristen Ashley

Then she said, “I been hearin’ some things.”

“Yeah?” Colt asked, even though this was a prompt, the way he said it communicated that he didn’t particularly want a response nor did he care what that would be.

She looked at me then tipped her head back to look at Colt and I noticed she’d shrunk, significantly. Both Ted and Mary had been tall, which was why Colt was tall. I stared at her, trying to see some beauty in her, racking my brain to remember her when she was younger, to remember Colt’s Dad, trying to figure out how this person and her husband made a man like Colt and I couldn’t see it.

“I heard you sorted things with Feb,” she said.

“I did,” Colt replied, his answer short, not initiating further discussion.

“I’m glad,” she told him but he didn’t respond so she looked at me and said, “For both of you.”

I didn’t know what to say but I thought I should say something so I muttered, “Thank you, Mrs. Colton.”

She nodded, I went quiet and Colt stayed silent.

“I heard other things too,” she went on, looking back to Colt.

“Don’t believe everything you hear,” Colt told her and her brows twitched.

“You safe?” she asked.

“Yes,” Colt lied instantly.

Her head moved to the side, almost like Dad’s had done, her neck slowly twisting and extending. She knew he was lying.

Then she straightened her neck, took in a breath and announced, “Your father’s gettin’ outta prison.”

“Good for him,” Colt said but he didn’t sound pleased, he sounded courteous in that way people were courteous when they were in a position where they were forced to be polite but they really couldn’t care less.

“He’s dried out, Alec. We both have. For good this time. We found the church,” she told him.

“Good for you too,” Colt’s tone hadn’t changed.

She bit her bottom lip, exposing her teeth, not like Colt did when he was angry. She was anxious and Colt wasn’t giving her anything to go on.

Then she said, “I thought you might like to know, maybe you might like to –”

Mom cut her off by saying, “He wouldn’t.”

Mary turned to Mom, moving slowly still, cautious, uncertain and maybe even scared or perhaps shy and she said quietly, “Jackie.”

“You got a helluva nerve walkin’ in here, Mary Colton,” Mom told her and Dad moved closer to Mom.

“I’m tryin’ to do right,” Mary said to Mom.

Mom let out a short, breathy, angry laugh before she asked, “Do right?”

“Jackie,” Colt murmured.

But Mary said over him, “Yeah, Jackie, do right.”

“Well, you’re forty-four years too late,” Mom snapped.

“Jackie, darlin’, let’s you and me go to the office,” Dad said.

“Not leavin’ Colt in here with her,” Mom said back.

“Jackie, he’s –” Dad stopped talking because Mom gave him a look and it was the kind of look that would make anyone stop talking, even Dad. Then Dad’s gaze shifted to Colt and Mom’s shifted back to Mary.

I decided to wade in before Mom really let loose and I took a small step forward but didn’t let go of Colt’s hand.

“Mrs. Colton,” I called and she turned back to look at me, “it was nice of you to come by today and let us know about Mr. Colton. But how ‘bout you go on home and you give Colt a chance to think about all this. You want, you can come with me to the office, I’ll get your number. He wants to call, he’ll get in touch. That sound okay?”

Colt’s hand squeezed mine and I squeezed back. Through this Mary looked back and forth between Colt and me.

Then she said, “All right, Feb. That sounds fine.”

I gestured behind me with my head and said, “Let’s go.”

I released Colt’s hand but my eyes moved to his as I turned to the office. His face was still blank and stony, nothing there to read, giving nothing away. If he looked at his mother like that, it was a wonder she didn’t run out the door.

I walked to the office and Mary followed me. Standing by the desk, looking awkward and out of place, her hand clamped around her purse strap and clenching it convulsively, she gave me her phone number while I wrote it on a pad on the desk.

When I was done writing the number, I straightened but saw she was looking at the closed door.

Then she turned back to me and, hand still clenching and unclenching her purse strap, she said in a rush, “I heard you were interviewed by the FBI. I heard your ex-husband was killed in St. Louis. I heard the police were at your apartment. I heard Chip Judd’s been workin’ at Alec’s place, puttin’ in a system. I heard a lotta things, February.” Her eyes were getting bright and I could see the whites of her knuckles, she was clenching her purse strap so tight. “He lied to me out there, Alec did. You’re not safe.”

“We’re fine, Mrs. Colton.”

“You’re not safe.”

“We’re fine.”

She shook her head, the movements quick and erratic, then she stopped and said, “I done him wrong.”

She was right about that so I kept quiet.

“I know I did. I know. My boy,” she whispered the last two words, did those head shakes again and her eyes got brighter, “he always…” she started then stopped then started again. “You were… you meant the world to… he and you…” more head shakes and then she said, “he got you back and you’re not safe.”

“We’re just fine, Mrs. Colton.”

The tears hit her eyes but didn’t spill over, just shuddered at her lower lids, the overhead lights illuminating them so much they shone, and she stared at me, her eyes never leaving mine.

Then she whispered, “You’re lyin’ too.”

I had no response because she was already turned and walking to the door. I followed her out and she walked to Colt. She didn’t do it quickly, she did it hesitantly, guarded, like she was ready to bolt if he made a lunge.

“I hope you call, Alec,” she told him and quickly looked at Mom, not wanting to give Colt the chance to respond, knowing if he did what he’d say she wouldn’t like then she said softly, “I’m sorry, Jackie. You’re right, I know, I have a nerve and I know you won’t believe this but I was just worried about your girl and my boy.” Then before Mom could speak, she scurried quickly out the door, still clutching her purse.