Jaxson's Song by Angie West Page B

cutting loose,
making plans and traveling, rooming in dormitories, she was raising
a grieving fifteen-year-old who was angry at the world.
    If it hadn’t been for
Lindsey opting to do the first two years of her business degree at
a local university, Kate wasn’t sure she and Lilly would have made
it through that first year. Lindsey’s constant presence in their
household had been a godsend.
    Her friend’s daily habit
of dropping in to “hang out” with Lilly every day from thee to five
in the afternoon until Kate got home from classes and work, rain or
shine, had helped give a young girl a home base…and had went a long
way toward rebuilding a foundation that had been badly shaken.
Lindsey’s watchful eye had also probably kept Lilly out of
heaven-only-knew what trouble.
    Kate turned, bags in hand,
and stumbled over her new pet. The bag with the screwdrivers landed
on the top of her foot. She managed to keep hold of the much
lighter bag that contained the trash—of course—and, with a muffled
curse, bent down to rub at her toes. Blood welled from a small cut
at the base of her big toe. Kate lifted the bag and noticed a
good-sized tear at the bottom, sharp plastic packaging from the
screwdriver set sticking out like a mini fin.
    “ Son of a…” she muttered. A sudden rustling sound brought her
head up. “What…” she trailed off, reaching out to grip the edge of
the door and haul herself to her feet. What was that ?
    The noise sounded again,
louder this time, and closer. Mice, maybe? The cat hissed, but
didn’t relinquish his position of relative safely behind Kate’s
legs.
    She laughed nervously.
“Hey, if that’s a mouse, aren’t you supposed to go check it out?”
She smiled down at the cat, then glanced back to the open doorway
in time to catch a ripple of movement at the bottom of the white
linen cloth draped over the wooden secretary in the entryway.
Remembering the chewed cable cord Olivia had found the other day,
Kate let out the breath she’d been holding, gathered her bags,
straightened, and walked into the house.
    Dropping to one knee, she
reached with her free hand and swept the cloth aside to
reveal…nothing.
    She swiftly scanned the
area around the heavy piece of furniture, frowning when nothing
stirred in the entryway. In fact, the whole house seemed
motionless, eerie. The silence was an oppressive, vivid…thing.
Beside her, the cat bristled.
    Kate climbed to her feet,
an uneasy feeling pooling in her stomach. “It’s okay, those things
are fast. We—we’ll get a service out, first thing,” she chattered,
flipping the catch at the top of the front door and pulling it shut
behind her.
    A cold, drafty chill swept
across her bare arms and she shivered, switched the air completely
off, and meandered into the kitchen. Hunching her shoulders and
folding her arms across her chest, she contemplated the open, airy
space in silence.
    This room, too, was much
the same as she remembered it. Rows and rows of maple brown
cabinets with bronze hardware. She advanced further into the room
and opened the cabinet closest to the extra-wide single white
porcelain sink; her fingers lingered over the cool metallic handle,
worn smooth by years of use. Aunt Viola had loved this kitchen. She
herself had loved this kitchen—once.
    Kate went through the
motions of brewing coffee with the only small appliance she and
Lilly had brought down from Georgia, save for a three-speed blow
dryer. Memories long past shadowed Kate’s motions as she took cream
and sugar dishes from the fridge and set them on the long, wide
counter alongside a clean blue ceramic mug.
    Viola combining flour and
sugar in an enormous chrome bowl. The scent of roast turkey filling
the air while she perched precariously on a chair and accepted fat
brown eggs from Lilly, who sat on the counter top and stirred a
bowl of butter while Kate cracked eggs and Aunt Viola looked on
approvingly…
    Kate tore off a paper
towel from the holder that