Background
Miranda Jessup Buckley is back and in trouble again.
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So far, Miranda Jessup Buckley is raising Waylon, the son of her ex-lover, Dougie. Dougie disappeared without a trace close to two years ago, but has suddenly shown back up. And Miranda is convinced he's back for Waylon.
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I check my watch and see that now is about the time Waylon is getting off the bus. I wonder if Dougie is there, sitting in my living room and drinking my beer. I could kick myself for not changing the locks when he first left, but I had a few other things going on at the time. And, I know he wouldn't hesitate to let himself in, if he could. He probably still thinks it's his place, even though he never once made a payment. His money went to Dougie approved things like his truck and beer and the occasional car show. Now, my money, that went to daily living things, like helping him out with the occasional truck payment, and the rent for the lot and the trailer payment. I shake my head trying to rid the mental picture of the jack-ass on my couch with his feet on my coffee table.
I'm just about rid of the image when in walks the pride and joy of The Patterson Gazette, Colleen Weaver.
"Miss Weaver, long time no see."
"Miranda. How are things?" she says, sitting her over sized leather purse on the counter and digging for her recorder. "Have you heard from the Toblerones?"
"Other than right after the trial, no. Why are you asking?"
She shakes her head. "Just wondering."
I look at her like a parent who knows there are never random questions. "Miss Weaver, I'm pretty sure you're fibbing and you do have a reason for asking. Come on, tell me why you're asking."
"Is that boy still with you?"
"Waylon?"
"Yes. Mr. Wilcox's son. Is he still living with you?"
I feel my body start to tense up. Why is she asking and what does she care? "He is. Is that news worthy, Colleen?"
She smiles and looks down. "You called me Colleen, am I in trouble?"
"You prefer Miss Weaver?"
She looks at the recorder in her hand and tosses it back into the depths of her purse. "It might be a story later on, but honestly, I just wanted to know."
"Why? Why do you want to know, and why might it be a story later?"
Colleen looks towards the door. "I wish I could tell you, but I can't...at least, not yet."
I figure if I go silent on her, she'll break and tell me why she's so interested in Waylon. No such luck. Colleen is a cool one under pressure. So, I give in. If I start asking the questions I might be able to figure out her angle. "Why so interested in Waylon?"
"It's not for a story. That I can promise you."
"What do you want to know?"
"How old is he?"
"Sixteen. A tad young for you, Colleen."
Her cheeks turn the lightest tone of pink, but I'm damn proud that I made her blush. "Does he want to go to college?"
"Yes. I've put a little money aside for him to go to the community college. He's already started applying for scholarships. He's a bright kid. He's going even if I have to take on a second job."
"That's admirable," she says.
I'm wondering if she's talking about me or Waylon, but I don't have the balls to ask her. "Anything else you'd like to know?"
"I heard a rumor that his father is back in town. Is that true?"
And, here it is. "Did you come here to ask about Dougie?"
"No. You're saying it's true then."
I look down at the counter and flick a piece of paper off the counter with my fingernail. "I'm not confirming or denying."
"Miranda, I'm not here on a story."
"You keep saying that, Colleen, but if it's not a story you're after, then why are you here asking me a bunch of questions?"
Colleen lifts her purse off the counter and heaves it up on her shoulder. "You're life is going to change, Miranda. Just know that."
She leaves without another word and I stand there, mouth gaping as my mind starts to catapult out of control.
I pick up the phone behind me and dial my house. It rings eleven times before the answering machine picks up. I slam the phone down and dial Waylon's cell. "Pick up, pick up, pick up," I say as the line goes straight to voice mail.
What if Dougie is just taking him off? I don't get to say goodbye, I don't get to see Waylon one last time? Certainly, Waylon would want to say goodbye to me and my momma. He's crazy about Momma.
My heart is slamming in my chest and as I'm picking up the phone to call Mitch to have him put out an all points bulletin on Dougie, a truck pulls into the lot. I hang the phone back up as Waylon climbs out of the passenger side and heads for the door.
My breath comes in quick bursts and I try to get myself under control before he sees me like this. I throw the best smile I have on my face and lean casually on the counter. "Is that your daddy's new truck?"
"Yeah. He's taking me out to Route 17 to practice driving. It's nice, isn't it?"
"Sure is."
He looks out at his father who is still sitting in the truck.
"Well, I don't want to keep you. Thanks for stopping by to let me know your plans. Any idea what time you'll be home?"
He shifts from foot to foot. "If he was to come in here, you wouldn't get mad would you?"
I wrinkle my nose. "Why would you think that?"
"I said it was fine. He said you'd probably throw something at him. He'll stay outside if it's going to upset you."
Dougie isn't as dumb as I thought, but for Waylon's sake, I control my impulses and shrug. "He's your dad. He can come in if he wants to." I even go as far as to look at the jack-ass and smile and wave.
Then I take a deep breath as the driver's side door opens and Mr. Red Flag himself steps out, all smiles and cockiness. Without missing a beat, he comes straight for me, arms open for a hug. I narrow my eyes and raise my knee. "Y'all have fun," I say as he sidesteps me, when he realizes my intentions.
"You haven't changed a bit," he says, a smirk on his face. But, he's wrong. I have changed. I have changed more than he can ever imagine.
