Suzanne Cox: One Man To Protect Them

JAYDEN STARED at the breakfast she’d set out before calling the boys. Oatmeal, juice and apple slices—what kind of strange kids were these two? Her mother would have had to sit on her and funnel liquefied oatmeal down Jayden’s throat to get her to eat it when she was ten years old. Thankfully, Evette Miller had been more of a biscuits-and-tomato-gravy cook, likely accounting for Jayden’s elevated cholesterol count. Her sister had managed to train these boys to eat healthier.

Elbows on the counter, she battled the tightness in her chest. When Caitland and Robert had died in a car crash a few months ago, she’d dropped everything to come and raise their children. Her sister hadn’t told her they’d made her legal guardian. But then, who else was there? Their mother couldn’t be expected to be responsible for two young boys, not when she was getting ready to retire. Besides, Caitland had wanted Jayden in Cypress Landing for years. She’d always said she’d get her home if it was the last thing she did.

Jayden blinked rapidly, had to fight to get her breath. At times like this, when the birds sang in the morning air and the light north wind began to make the dimming green leaves wiggle…Her mother would be by soon. She straightened, and prepared to unleash chaos.

“Boys, breakfast!”

She heard squeals from the bedroom, then a thump, followed by the dog barking. The day had officially begun. She spread her feet apart and bent to hug eight-year-old Garrett as he ran into the kitchen. He smiled. It was a start.

“You’re dressed and I only came to get you one time. Wow.”

“I’m great, huh?”

“You and your brother are the best. I didn’t know little boys could be so smart.”

Garrett struggled loose, grinning, and scurried to the table. But there was still no sign of Elliot, who at ten deemed himself the man of the house, a title much too overwhelming for a boy. She strode to his room, and found him carefully tying his sneakers. She often wondered if the older brother had come from the womb sporting a pair of neatly double-knotted tennis shoes.

“Ready for breakfast?”

He bobbed his head in a gesture that meant less than nothing to her.

“Anything wrong?”

He shrugged.

“Hmm,” she said as he followed her to the kitchen. “Is that yes, no, maybe, I don’t know, the dog ate my homework?”

Elliot snorted. “Kasey wouldn’t eat my homework.”

“You’re probably right. So what’s on your mind?”

“We’ve got baseball practice tonight and tomorrow, then they’re going to pick teams.”

“I know. I’ve already made plans to take you.”

“But what if I don’t get picked to be on a good team?”

“Then you’ll be the best player on a not-so-good team.”

He slunk into a chair at the table. “You haven’t seen me play, Aunt J. How do you know I’ll be the best?”

“We’ve been throwing the ball in the yard every evening, and you’re excellent at that. Though I’m mostly going by how the people in the clinic the past few weeks have been asking if you were playing this year and telling me how much they wanted you on their team. I’m guessing you’re an outstanding player.”

He spooned his oatmeal obviously unimpressed. “I like baseball, a lot. My dad and I—” He paused and swallowed hard. Jayden held her breath. “We played all the time.”

“I’ll be glad to practice with you.”

He snorted then took a bite of his apple. “You’re not much help.”

She put her fists on her hips, mustering an offended scowl. This was the first time he’d been able to mention his dad without crying. “Maybe this Saturday we should get your friends together and go to one of the fields for a game. I’ll show you my skills.”

Even Garrett laughed at that.

A knock on the kitchen door preceded her mom by two seconds. Her short steel-gray hair stuck up in various appropriate directions as though she’d just stepped out of the stylist’s chair. Which she had. Evette had owned her own salon for as long as Jayden could remember. She hugged the boys and went to the cabinet to find a bowl.

“I’ll take the kids to school this morning and get them in the afternoon. I’ve got to run to town early then give Helen a perm.” At sixty-three, her mother seemed much younger.

“Thanks, I need to get to the clinic.”

The brothers brought their dishes to the sink, and Jayden rinsed them and stuck them in the dishwasher. Garrett went back to the table to eat his apple while Elliot dug in his backpack, asking, “When’s Mr. Eric coming home?”

Her mother paused with a spoonful of oatmeal inches from her lips, but the spoon Jayden held clattered to the floor, splattering bits of oatmeal on the tile. She peered through the window above the sink at the darkened windows of the guest house across the field.

“They’ll hear it at school,” her mother said in a low voice. “Do you want me to do it?”

Jayden shook her head. Eric had been renting for nearly a year before Caitland and Robert had been killed. The boys knew him well. Three deaths in less than two months was far too much for a kid to deal with.

She slid a chair next to Garrett at the table then hauled another closer for Elliot. The older boy recognized bad news was coming. She could tell by his slumped posture and his reluctance to sit.

“We think Eric’s been hurt and he may not be back.”

Elliot stood again and Garrett’s eyes instantly filled with water.

“Did he go to be an angel in the clouds, too?” A tear trickled down Garrett’s cheek, and Jayden wanted to throw up.

“We don’t know for certain yet, but it looks that way. I want you to know what happened in case you hear about it at school.” She swallowed the choking sob clogging her throat.

“Did he have a car wreck?”

She glanced at her mom who gave a slight nod. If Jayden didn’t tell them the truth now, they’d probably hear part of it or even an exaggerated version later today.

“It wasn’t a car wreck. We believe somebody hurt Eric and he might have died. We don’t know for sure who, but the sheriff will find out.”

“Why would somebody hurt Mr. Eric?” Garrett rubbed his face. She pulled her chair next to his so she could hold him close.

“We don’t know.”

“It was because of that stuff he was writing on the Loyalist people, wasn’t it?” Elliot’s eyes held a hint of anger.

“I said we don’t know who did it or why, Elliot.”

“I know. They’re mean. They’re the ones that call us half-breeds. Eric said they didn’t like him asking questions about their Militia group. He had a dog when he first came, but they killed it. Last year they painted mean stuff on the garage about me and Garrett. I’m going to get them one day, you wait and see.”

His fist was in a knot, nearly as tight as the one in her stomach. “Elliot, no one knows who’s responsible for hurting Eric. You’re angry, very angry, and so am I. But we can’t accuse people. It will only make more trouble.”

She could see him processing the information. “We’ll help the sheriff and the police if we can, won’t we?”

She caught his hand in hers. “Of course we will.”

“I’ve got to get my homework.” Elliot’s chair bumped the table as he wheeled around and left the room. Garrett pulled away and followed him.

“Poor kids can’t catch a break,” her mother said. “But do you think it’s fair to only say he might be dead? They did find his watch on an arm.”

“Until they’ve got DNA confirmation, we don’t know Eric’s dead.”

Evette shook her head. “I think we know. And now when it’s confirmed, you’ll have to do this all over again.”