The Grove by John Rector Page A

wouldn’t believe me.
    Again, the desire to turn around and disappear hit me in the center of the chest. I felt myself reach for the gearshift and move the lever to reverse.
    I stopped.
    I wasn’t going to leave her.
    I pulled the rest of the way up the driveway and parked next to the cruiser. I opened the door, then reached for the grocery bags next to me. As I got out, I heard Greg’s voice.
    “Thought you were going to sit there all morning.” He was standing on the porch, leaning against the railing, smoking a cigarette. “You surprised to see me?”
    “Nope,” I said. “Not at all.”
    He tossed the butt into the driveway and said, “You need some help with those?”
    “I got ’em,” I said, walking up the steps to the porch. “But you can get the door.”
    Greg pushed it open and I walked past him into the house.
    “You’ll be happy to know I didn’t go inside.”
    I set the bags on the kitchen table and said, “Why would I care about that?”
    “You mentioned it last time.”
    I nodded. “Right. When you stole my clip.”
    “Temporarily confiscated,” he said. “Protecting you and the community.”
    “It’s a .22, Greg. How much damage did you think I’d do?”
    “You don’t think a .22 can do damage?”
    I had a feeling I knew where this was going, and the last thing I needed was a lecture on gun safety.
    What I wanted was to get this over with.
    “Did you come by to return my clip?”
    “No, I told you to pick it up at dinner on Saturday, and that still stands. Have you decided if you’re coming?”
    “You’re here to ask me about Saturday?”
    “That’s right.”
    For a moment I didn’t know what to say.
    “You drove out here for that?”
    “And to see how you were holding up, yeah.”
    I started unpacking the groceries onto the table.
    “What the hell’s so funny?”
    “What?”
    “Why are you smiling like that?”
    I hadn’t realized I was, and forced myself to stop.
    Greg came up next to me and pawed through the boxes of macaroni and the frozen dinners. He stopped at a bigger box and held it up.
    “Fly paper?” He looked around the room. “You got a fly problem?”
    I took the box. “You know how it goes.”
    “That’s a big box. Could’ve just bought a swatter.”
    I ignored him and kept unpacking.
    Greg paced around behind me. “Should I tell Julie to expect you then?”
    “I don’t know.”
    “It’ll be good for you. Might be nice to be around people for a change.”
    “I don’t know if I’m up for it right now.”
    Greg was quiet for a moment. When I turned I saw him standing at the sink, staring out the window at the field and the grove in the distance.
    “What’s wrong?”
    “Why didn’t you tell me, Dex?”
    I felt my stomach lurch back against my spine.
    Right then, I almost told him everything. That I’d been afraid he would’ve thought I killed her, gone crazy that night, when I knew I had nothing to do with her death. About Megan and Jessica’s boyfriend and how I was convinced they had something to do with what had happened out there.
    But I didn’t.
    Instead I said, “Tell you what?”
    Greg held up a small amber bottle. At first I didn’t know what it was.
    “You’re back on your pills?”
    I managed to pull a chair away from the table and sit before my legs gave out on their own.
    “Were you embarrassed to tell me?”
    I nodded, not sure why.
    Greg put the bottle back on the windowsill then sat at the table with me. “You made the right choice. No shame in that.”
    I nodded again, and both of us were silent for a while. Even if I had been taking those pills, I wouldn’t have been embarrassed to tell Greg. We didn’t say anything else about it.
    Greg looked at his watch and stood. “Got to head out,” he said. “I’m going to tell Julie to expect you on Saturday.”
    “I didn’t say I was—”
    “Just show up,” he said. “It’s been too long since you’ve been over.” He paused. “I want you to come.”
    I