Rays of burnt-yellow sunlight were glinting on the cottonwood leaves. The pond rippled like tussled sheets of gold and blue as its surface reflected the sky.
Sitting on the back deck, April was swatting away gnats while Drew told funny stories, spitting as he talked, because he spoke so fast. His penny-colored eyes shone with his exuberance. Jo envied him for his ability to be so effortlessly funny. Ben sat beside him emitting a snuffling sound, his trademark laugh. His round cheeks poked out when he grinned. He habitually ran a finger and thumb over his chevron-styled mustache. He had removed his shoes and socks and his pudgy, white feet were turning hot-pink.
Mike sat beside April on the deck benching. His left arm was stretched out behind her. Jo’s heart fluttered at this sight. The posture implied ownership, protection, affection, though in this instance it was just friendship. She imagined that arm resting behind her. Along with the fluttering, there was a twinge of envy.
Dove was sitting across from her, next to Lary, of course. Jo sat by herself on a small bench by back door. What was that song her aunt used to sing to her? Oh yeah, the cheese stands alone. She tried not to look at Mike—too much.
Galen was on the boards encircling the spruce tree. His arms were folded across his chest. His long legs stretched out in front of him, ankles crossed, heels resting up on the deck rail. His lips never broke a smile. He stared out at the valley and seemed to be lost in thought as if he were millions of miles away. As the sun’s rays slid under the spruce’s boughs, they gleamed on his raven-black hair. The side of his face was tinted gold and his left eye glimmered like silvery ice.
There was a lull in the conversation and Jo was surprised when Lary spoke to him. “So, Galen, how’s work?”
Her eyes widened. She stopped in mid-swallow of her iced tea.
Galen pulled his legs down from the rail and sat up, pressing the palms of his hands onto his knees. He tossed his head back, causing thick black hair to slide away from his face. “It’s slow…and not very interesting,” he answered sullenly.
“So, what is it that you do?” Lary persisted.
Everyone perked up because he had never answered the question. Jo lowered her cup and waited with expectation.
Galen pressed his lips together and rolled them inward. His eyes slid over to Jo and quickly skated over her. “Well, presently, not much.” He looked back at Lary.
Silence.
Jo met Dove’s eyes across the deck. She mouthed the word ‘murder’. Dove mouthed the word ‘no’, shaking her head.
“Excuse me,” Galen said. He stood up and jumped over the deck railing to the ground a few feet below. The puzzled group watched him walk to the pond.
“Hey, I tried,” Lary said quietly.
“That’s a hard nut to crack,” Drew commented.
“Shhh—he’ll hear you,” April warned them, her face colored with concern. She turned to the group. “He’s going through a rough time,” she offered in his defense. “He wouldn’t say exactly, but something happened recently. He’s just trying to get his life right.”
Jo’s eyes stayed on him as he ambled down to the dark water. At its grassy edge, he picked up a couple of rocks and skipped them across the surface. Her friends were chatting again, but Jo kept watching him.
He looked back towards the deck, his hair tumbling over one eye. His hands rose slowly and sat on his hips. He smirked, looking right at her. Jo’s eye’s widened. She popped up from her seat. “Anyone need a refill?” She jiggled the ice in her cup. There were no takers.
She slipped through the door and went to the kitchen. Amber light soaked through the white curtain on the window above the sink illuminating the small, square room with a warm, golden hue.
She poured her tea, listening to the muffled voices outside. The conversations were sprinkled with laughs, guffaws from Drew and snuffles from Ben. She wrapped her hand around the wet plastic cup and headed to the door. Her fingers touched the metal knob, but she hesitated to turn it. Hidden behind the curtain’s veil, she was able to observe the breathtaking picture of her friends.
Immersed in the tangerine glow of the setting sun, Lary’s auburn hair was on fire and Dove’s coffee-colored tresses were streaked with red.
Her eyes skimmed over the others to Mike. She had been dying to look at him. Now her eyes feasted. He had removed the denim shirt a while ago. His white T-shirt wrapped his body snuggly. The muscles in his arms swelled below the short sleeves. She smiled unconsciously as he laughed. She loved the way his sun-bleached bangs fell onto his forehead in silky yellow wisps. He had a little cleft in his chin that Jo adored. And his eyes—oh, those eyes—they were able see so deeply inside you. In the pink and orange hues of the dwindling day, they sparkled like turquoise water. He was so beautiful. She took in a deep breath and slowly let it out.
Her friends talked and laughed and no one seemed to care about the empty spot where she had sat. Mike doesn’t even know I left. She sighed. “You’re so self-centered, Jo,” she scolded herself in a whisper.
“Hey!” The deep voice cracked like a whip.
Jo jumped. The cup leapt from her hand and crashed to the floor. Cold tea splashed her bare feet. She gasped and turned quickly. Her eyes were huge, but in the next two seconds they constricted.
Galen flipped his hair from his face. “Sorry about that. I didn’t know you were spying.”
Jo mashed her lips together, fuming. She bent down to pick up ice cubes, flinging the them at the bottom of her cup. She walked briskly to the kitchen, threw the cup in the sink, and ripped paper towels off a roll. Galen was headed that way. She scolded him with her eyes.
She stopped at the puddle and faced him, her arms stiff at her sides, her hands clenched around the towels. “You did that on purpose.” She got down on her knees to mop up the tea. “And I wasn’t spying,” she huffed. “Why are you sneaking around?” In her anger, she forgot she was confronting a killer.
He raised his hands in surrender. “Uh, the door was open.” He glanced back at the front door.
Jo’s irritation subsided. She had been watching her friends, but still—
He walked over with more paper towels.
“I can take care of it,” she told him.
“I’m aware of that.” He was down on one knee soaking up a stream of tea rolling into the living room. Layers of hair hid his face.
“Thanks,” she said, but spitefully.
He stood up and tossed the wet paper towels into a trash bag. She felt his eyes on her, but kept staring at the grains in the hardwood floor.
“You’re right,” he said.
She raised her head, sitting back on her heels. “Huh?”
“I did do it on purpose,” he spoke flippantly. One of his lustrous grey eyes twinkled.
She bit down on the inside of her bottom lip and cocked her head. One eye narrowed as she studied his face: chiseled, velvety, expressionless.
The back door opened.
“Whoa…what happened here?” Drew skirted the damp sheen on the floor.
“I spilled my tea,” Jo said. The rest of the gang filed in behind Drew, walking carefully around Jo and her cleaning efforts.
“Can I help you?” Dove offered, kneeling beside her, examining Jo’s face.
“Thanks. I got it.”
“That’s an angry shade of red you got going. What happened?” She looked in Galen’s direction.
“Nothing.” Jo grinned and did her best to be calm in front of the group. She couldn’t wait to get Dove alone and tell her about this latest offense.
When she finished cleaning the floor, she searched the living room for Galen. He was gazing out the window. She made sure no one was looking and stuck her tongue out at him.
Chapter 6