Killmore Page 6

  Marcus has the look of freight suddenly appear in his eyes.

  “What?” I ask calmly.

  “It’s freaky to know you know that,” he says. “How do you know that?”

  “Let’s just say…I don’t ever want to have to use any of them like that, but I know just in case for self defense and don’t have a gun or knife close by,” I comment.

  Marcus stays quiet, seeming more unsure and nervous.

  “This isn’t meant to scare you,” I mention.

  “I’m not scared,” Marcus challenges with a crack in his voice.

  “It’s okay,” I soothe. “I was scared the first few times too. This isn’t about really using a gun or any kind of weapon.”

  “It isn’t?” Marcus checks.

  “No,” I confirm. “All of this, any of this, is meant to inform you…educate you. The key concept of any of this is awareness. Awareness of your environment, which includes the people and objects that are around you just as much as the location…and, even more importantly, self-awareness and self-control.”

  Marcus’ shoulders visibly relax a little as the purpose for our visit starts to sink in.

  After a few more moments of letting him process everything I’ve said, I go through a few more small bits of information about the gun, pinpointing the names and location of the handle, trigger, barrel, and most importantly, the safety switch along with a few other descriptions and explanations. Placing the gun back down on the table, I say, “Pick it up.”

  “What?” Marcus asks nervously.

  “Just pick it up,” I repeat. “It’s empty. You know it is. I just want to see how you handle it knowing it’s empty and after everything we went through.”

  Marcus’ hand shakes as it reaches forward. I smile and reassure him as I get him to take some deep breaths.

  “Good,” I praise. “Perfect. You remembered to point it toward the ground.”

  Marcus timidly smiles.

  “Now,” I say. “I want you to turn, face the target and pretend that you’re going to shoot it.”

  “What?” Marcus gulps.

  “Pretend like it’s one of your video games,” I coax. “The zombie is at the other end of the range and is coming for you. Lift the gun, point it at him, the zombie aka the target, and pretend to shoot him.”

  Marcus follows my instructions tentatively and jumps a little when his finger presses hard enough on the trigger, causing it to make a clicking sound.

  “Good,” I praise. “Not bad. Now. See how you’re holding the gun?”

  “Yeah?” his voice shakes.

  My hand reaches to direct him to turn his hand and the gun. “Hold it like this,” I inform, talking calmly and moving slowly so I don’t spook him. “Good. Now, use your other hand to support this hand. Good. Never hold it like this,” I say, turning his hand sideways. “You’ll never get an accurate shot and the kickback of the gun could hurt you.”

  “Kickback?” Marcus checks.

  “When the gun fires, the kickback is what happens from the force of it propelling the bullet,” I share, taking a hold of his arm and jutting it back to emulate the sensation. “When you don’t have a proper hold of the gun, you could injury yourself. You know how some movies show people being thrown back?”

  “Yeah.”

  “That’s a kickback,” I explain. “And, it’s possible.”

  “Oh, okay.”

  I take the gun and place it back down on the table.

  Right as I’m about to instruct him to repeat what we just did, Marcus says, “Hey, Laurie?”

  “Hey what?”

  “Can I ask you something?” he inspects.

  “Sure,” I say.

  “How are you so comfortable with guns? Were you like this right away?”

  “No,” I admit. “I hated them for a long time.”

  Marcus nods and doesn’t ask anything else as if he senses that there’s more to my statement.

  “You ready to repeat what we just did?” I say, moving us forward.

  “Yeah.” he replies a little more confidently.

  Marcus takes the same stance as before and I barely have to correct his posture, but I do need to point out his stance and where to place his feet for support and balance.

  An hour later, Marcus is more comfortable with a handgun. He’s reloading it himself for another round. Once he empties the magazine, we call it quits for the day, wanting to stop while we’re ahead. I offer to drive back, seeing how the adrenaline of today’s events have him jacked.

  “Hey, Laurie?” Marcus asks fifteen minutes into our drive home after nothing but silence.

  “Hey,” I answer.

  “Never mind,” he deflects.

  “What is it?” I press gently.

  “Thank you,” he says. “Thanks for trusting me and thanks for getting mama to trust me too.”

  “You’re welcome,” I return. “Guns are only dangerous when you don’t understand them or how to use them. They’re like an extension of your body. When you have enough self awareness and confidence with one, you’re able to think more clearly in situations.”

  “Yeah,” he sighs, but his face shows he doesn’t quite understand.

  “Remember what it was like learning to drive at first?” I search.

  Marcus lets out a nervous laugh. “Yeah.”

  “Learning to handle and shoot a gun or any new task is the same,” I explain. “It’s weird and awkward at first, but the more you get used to it, the more you get comfortable with it.”

  “That makes sense,” he agrees.

  “Like I said,” I continue. “It’s better for you to know and not need this skill, than need it and not know it.”

  “Is that what happened to you?” Marcus asks suddenly.

  I’m left speechless as my hands tighten on the steering wheel.

  “I’ve seen the scar on your shoulder,” he reveals. “I know you’ve tried to hide it with the tattoo, which you have. Most people don’t see it. I’ve just seen it because of studying the lines of your tattoo over the years when you don’t wear sleeves.”

  “Just between you and me?” I check.

  “Just between us,” Marcus confirms.

  I take a breath, readying myself to answer, knowing that when Marcus and I do exchange the words just between us, we know that’s exactly what we mean from a few times prior. “Yes,” I say lowly.

  “Is that a gunshot wound?” he explores.

  My head nods confirmation.

  “What’s it feel like?” he searches. “You know, to be shot?”

  Not expecting his question, I let out a controlled breath while trying to also figure out how I want to answer. “Scary,” I mumble. “It’s a sharp, burning pain that spreads deep into your soul.”

  “Did you think you were going to die?” he asks.

  “Part of me did,” I answer truthfully in a low tone, keeping my eyes on the road.

  Ten - Laurie

  “Looks like you’re getting new neighbors again,” Marcus announces as we approach the previously empty cabin on our right.

  My eyes stay focused on the large moving truck that is parked in the driveway, avoiding the temptation to look at the people around it. “Looks like it.”

  “Do you think they’re just here for the summer?” he inquires.

  “I hope so,” I return. “That’s part of the reason why I bought my house. I like the peace and quiet of this end of the lake.”

  Willow River Lake is a big lake with the main part of town on the Westside. My house is practically on the opposite end, on the Northeast side of the body of water, purposefully chosen for a variety of reasons; less people, quieter and more room. The main activities for our town primarily occur over on the west side and that even includes the majority of boaters.

  As I pull into my driveway, Marcus texts his mom that we’re back. Jacob and her will be joining us for lunch along with the Lenards as part of our usual once a month weekend luncheons. During the warmer month
s, we’ll have our weekend gathering more often and bounce between the three houses. Often, they spill over into the night where we have dinner together as well.

  Mr. Lenard takes grilling duty while Esther casually strolls through the walkways around my raised garden beds that line the different pathways of the upper and lower levels of the back deck. Jacob and Marcus play with the dogs, eventually heading along the dock and in the water. Once the food is ready, Trudy and I finish bringing it out onto the patio and set the table.

  Esther is in good spirits today, showing better signs of healing with the diet she’s been on. Aside from high blood pressure, she’s had some challenges with eczema and arthritis that escalated from a fall she had, but thanks to her change in diet, she’s been able to heal from the inside over the past two months. Her doctor, Dr. Derek Johnsen, Codie’s brother, didn’t like the fact that I intervened a little, trying to get her off of the drugs. Three weeks into getting the medications, Dr. Johnsen reduced her prescription by half, now it’s even less. Dr. Derek doesn’t like how I’m not a doctor and am giving advise to his patient. I told him that I’m allowed to make suggestions, and since I don’t charge for them, I can’t be sued or anything.

  “We saw the moving truck on our way over,” comments Mr. Lenard as I place a second round of food on the table.

  “Marcus and I saw it this morning too,” I confirm, taking a swig of my beer.

  “Did you get a look at who’s moving in?” asks Mrs. Lenard.

  “No,” I say. “I just hope they’re quiet and stay on their side.”

  “Maybe there’s a cute, single guy,” Trudy muses.

  “Should I push you into the lake so you can fake drowning and see if anyone comes to your rescue as your way of checking?” I tease.

  “What?!” she gasps.

  Esther, Gerald, and I laugh.

  “Why don’t I push you into the water and see what happens?” Trudy challenges.

  “Yeah, like you could push me in,” I play.

  “Have you started seeing anyone?” Esther inquires.

  “No,” Trudy huffs. “But, I think I might actually be ready, you know?”

  “Sure,” Esther agrees. “The boys are getting older. Marcus will be going to college next year and Jacob only has a few years left. You deserve to take care of you.”

  “I guess,” Trudy sighs with trepidation.

  “Oh, please,” I scoff. “She’s been eyeing Dr. Codie.”

  “I thought he was yours,” Esther replies.

  “He’s not mine,” I state. “I’ve offered for her to take him for a ride.”

  “Shhh,” Trudy shushes.

  “Please,” I laugh. “They’re in the water with the dogs, they can’t hear us.”

  “What about his brother, Derek?” Esther checks. “Didn’t he and his girlfriend break up recently?”

  “Yep,” Gerald confirms.

  Esther, Trudy, and I all look to Gerald in shock.

  “How do you know that?” Esther inquires.

  “Men talk,” Gerald says. “It was a bad breakup too. I’d give him a few weeks to heal.”

  “It’s the perfect time to swoop in,” Esther argues. “Even men need help mending a broken heart, and you, Trudy, just might be the gal to give him what he needs.”

  Gerald shakes his head in amusement at his wife’s scheming. Who can blame her? She just wants everyone to be as happy and in love as she is with Gerald.

  After lunch, Gerald takes the boys out for a boat ride on the lake while Esther, Trudy, and I finish cleaning the dishes and put the food away as Esther takes a nap in the shade. With the boys away from earshot, I’m able to share with Trudy how the time at the range went and the need for her to start talking to Marcus about the guns in the house. She’s hesitant at first, but eventually agrees with my logic.

  Right as the boys and Gerald get the boat docked, I hear Esther greet someone and my head snaps to see who's here. I didn't invite anyone.

  What the fuck?

  “Codie. Derek,” Esther greets warmly. “So glad you boys could drop by to join us. Sorry you missed lunch, but there’s plenty of time to have a few drinks since we haven’t had desert yet.”

  My eye twitches and the urge to grab a gun pops into my head — not to kill Esther, but to kill myself.

  “Thanks for having us,” Codie returns excitedly. He goes in for a kiss-hug kind of thing, but it becomes weird and awkward as I try to avoid it.

  Codie manages to get his arms around me and I give the evil eye to Esther. “You’re welcome,” I eek out. “Good to have you guys.”

  “We figured you boys could add some life to our little party,” Esther states excitedly, obviously ignoring my unpleased expressions.

  “I’m not sure how much life Derek has in him,” Codie says quietly.

  “We know,” Esther confirms. “That’s why we invited the two of you.”

  Since when did we invite them?

  Conversations are a little shaky at first, but Esther and Gerald manage much better than me at being good hosts, and I gratefully accept their lead. Codie and Derek even change into their bathing suits, something Esther managed to convince them to bring, and jump into the lake with the boys. Good thing I have an exterior shower for rinsing off after being in the lake when the dogs are muddy, it allows me to keep the doctors out of my house. I even have an exterior bathroom. After Codie tries to sneak a peak into my home through a window or two, he and his brother make their way down to the lake, playing a game of catch with Marcus and Jacob.

  “They’re good looking men, as well as sweethearts,” Esther states suddenly. “I don’t see why you won’t do more than just sleep with Dr. Codie.”

  I choke on my sip of beer as Gerald and Trudy laugh. “I don’t do those kinds of relationships anymore. You know that.”

  “You can’t force something on the heart that the heart doesn't want, dear,” Gerald comments. “Let the woman be. Stop meddling.”

  “I’m not meddling,” she challenges.

  “Yes, you are,” Trudy laughs. “I think it’s funny as hell, though.”

  I roll my eyes in response.

  “Laurie’s heart will open when it finds the right one again,” Gerald says. “She hasn’t found it with Codie.”

  “It was burnt a long time ago,” I inform. “There’s nothing left.”

  “There’s always a small piece that flickers with light, no matter how much darkness has covered it,” Gerald replies.

  “That’s some deep shit,” I point out.

  Trudy and Esther giggle as they take a sip of their drinks.

  “What about you?” Gerald inquires, looking to Trudy. “It looks like you might have breathed a little life back in that flame in Dr. Derek.”

  Trudy shrugs her shoulders as a smile pops onto her face.

  Somehow, Esther managers to invite Codie and Derek to stay with us for dinner. Not wanting them to have that much access to my house, I suggest we all head into town to get a meal and everyone agrees.

  Eleven - Laurie

  By Monday morning after my exercise regimen, I’m in the cafe checking in on last week’s numbers and what’s expected for this week’s deliveries. The restaurant is a little busier with another group of tourists already in from this past weekend. As I finish up in the office, my cell phone rings.

  “How’re you holding up,” the woman’s voice asks on the other line.

  “Good,” I say impassively, closing the door to the office so my conversation isn’t overheard. “Still alive. You?”

  “Good, thanks,” she answers. “Anything you want to talk about?”

  “Nope,” I return.

  “Come on, Laurie,” she coaxes.

  “We do this same routine every year since you dropped me off in this town, Becky,” I state. “You call…we say the same bullshit.”

  “And, I come to visit on occasion,” she reminds.

  “Yep,” I confirm.

  “How’s the cafe going?”
<
br />   “Good,” I say. “You checking in to make sure I’m paying my taxes?”

  “Ha ha, very funny,” she replies.

  “Well, since I’m making so much money, I figured the government would want some of it like they do for everyone else,” I remark.

  “Not paying them was a part of the deal,” she reminds.

  “Just making sure they don’t go back on their deal,” I answer. “You know how wishy-washy the government can be.”

  “I’ll be stopping by in two weeks,” she shares.

  “Why?”

  “Like I always do,” she presents.

  “You’re not bringing any weirdos with you are you?” I check.

  “Just the husband,” she confirms.

  “The real one or the pretend one?”

  “Very funny,” she answers.

  “I’m not a fan of the pretend one,” I share.

  “You’re not a fan of any of them except me,” she accuses.

  “With good reason,” I charge.

  “Just because you had a couple of bad experiences with men, doesn’t mean that all of them are bad,” Becky debates.

  I don’t comment.

  “Want me to bring anything?” she asks.

  “Nah,” I reply. “I’m good.”

  “Okay, then,” she answers. “See you in two weeks.”

  “See you,” I bid.

  “What made you all pissy?” Trudy searches after knocking on the door and opening it when I tell her to come in.

  “Nothing,” I reply.

  “Codie calling again?”

  “No,” I huff.

  “Ah,” Trudy sighs.

  I study her. “Ah? Ah, what?”

  “Nothing,” she giggles.

  “Just say it,” I comment.

  “I think someone needs to get laid, is all,” she says quietly.

  “You’re one to talk,” I goad.

  “I’m working on it,” she replies quietly.

  “Who?” I press.