“WE’RE HERE.” DECLAN said, startling Lydia from her near slumber.
The large green sign on the side of the highway said, Welcome to Rapid Falls, Minnesota, population…only a handful. Or that’s what she thought it should have said as they drove through the small town.
“How did we get to Minnesota so fast? And weren’t we headed south?” she asked, completely baffled and turned around.
“If you drive fast, you get places fast. And we were only going south for a while. We zig zagged our way west, just to be safe.”
Lydia was a big city kind of girl but found the small-town charming, even under the dimly lit night sky. It had rows of shops, likely mom and pop types, and an old traditional feel from the old brick buildings flanking both sides of what had to be main street. There wasn’t a single person out or car passing by. It was the type of town that rolls up the streets at dark, and nobody comes out until morning. This could get interesting – and boring.
At the far end of town, where the buildings became fewer, and houses took over every block or so, they turned down a road that Lydia hadn’t even seen. He’d been here before, or he wouldn’t have noticed the dark narrow road, lined with overgrown trees, either. The only light was from the headlights of their vehicle. They passed a single small house before finally passing into a clearing where one little cottage sat, porch light on, waiting.
As they got closer, more lights became obvious, and Lydia could see the open expansive landscape that it sat on. Upon their approach, still from the road, she could see that a large deck rested behind the house and was surrounded with decorative lighting. The full moon, and more stars than she had ever seen, shone bright in the clear night’s sky, right off what had to be some sort of body of water just beyond the deck. It all had a very enchanting feel, and they hadn’t even stepped outside of the car yet.
The long drive from the main road ended in a circular drive just at the front of the house. Declan grabbed their two duffle-like bags from the rear of the SUV and made his way to the front door. Lydia followed, taking in what she could in the dark as she walked the front walkway, ending on the large craftsman style porch. An inviting red bench sat in contrast against the creamy yellow cottage, begging her to have a seat. She thought it a great place for morning coffee and a good book. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad?
A key pad, not an actual key and lock, let them in the front door where the delightful craftsman charm carried on throughout. It was small, a far cry from her multi-million-dollar mansion on a sprawling estate, but it felt homey and cozy, and she was tired. She wouldn’t complain, not this night, anyway.
“Is this your place?” she asked.
“Not really.” Short and to the point, Declan was a creature of habit.
“How long are we here? Long term? Short term? I’m new to this whole running from creepy bad guys that happen to be your husband, thing.”
He sensed the irritation in her tone, and knew it wasn’t directed toward him, but decided to tread carefully anyway. “Just one day at a time.”
They’d had just enough tears in 48 or so hours to last them a while, but he needed to be clear with her on what to do and what not to do. “We need to blend in here – only go to town for what we need. It’s big enough that people won’t notice the new people, but small enough we’ll see our enemies coming. It’s a nice place to call home for now.”
She shrugged and tossed an eye roll. “Until we have to move again, right?”
Declan grabbed two beers from the already stocked fridge, something she found interesting, and motioned for her to follow him to the rear of the house. The kitchen sat near the entry at the front of the house and flowed into the living room – both overlooked the deck and pond through the wall of large picture windows.
He sat in a brown wicker chair and offered her the one next to him, setting an opened bottle of beer on the table between them. “That’s for you.”
“Beer? I usually just drink wine…sulfate free of course. Oh, and sometimes champagne.”
“Well, we have beer. Watered down piss we call it. Hits the spot. Drink up.” He raised his beer in salute before tossing it back and taking a long refreshing pull.
With her pinky out, she tipped her bottle for a little sip, making a sour face and letting out a dissatisfied grumble before saying, “So how do we act anonymous. You know, blend in.”
He grinned when she took another sip, then a large gulp – it was growing on her – or she was a lightweight; either worked for him. “Avoid small talk, don’t get too comfortable with locals, and stay here.”
She raised her beer, saluting him this time, and took a big long pull herself, but not before she toasted, “Welcome to my new exciting life.”
Though she seemed compliant and willing to follow the rules, he couldn’t help but feel a little guilty. “You can do this, Lydee.”
“I’m not sure about that. Not without a lot of these.” She raised her beer again, insinuating beer was to be her salvation through the ordeal, then let out a roaring belch that startled her. “How embarrassing! I’ve never so much as hiccupped out loud, much less burp like that! We’ll definitely need more of these.”
He chuckled, something he didn’t do often, and said, “Guess you were right about not being a beer drinker.”
“Who are we fooling? I’m just not cut out for…this.” She held up her beer, but her heavy heart and painful expression was not about the beer at all.
“I’ll let you in on something. No one is cut out for this. But you…you will figure it out. You’ll do it for Trinity and Jax. You’ll do it; I know you will. You aren’t a quitter; you’re a doer.”
“A doer? Haven’t heard that before. I suppose you are right though. I don’t really have any alternatives, or even choice in any of this. It was all decided for me the day I married a murderer.”
Her beer was gone, but he couldn’t imagine her nonchalant statement being beer induced already. It was how she really felt. Regret was setting in, and that had him worried because it usually came with its own rally of emotions that he simply wasn’t cut out to deal with.
“It isn’t forever. Just keep reminding yourself of that. I will remind you, too. This will be over before you know it.”
“Only if I keep drinking these beers.” She picked up his half full bottle and tossed it back, finishing it for him, letting out a satisfied sigh when she was done. “Because it already feels like a life sentence.”
“I won’t take that personal – stealing my beer or the life sentence thing.”
Smiling for the first time in days, she tilted her head and tossed him a wink. “So what’s the plan, besides sleep? You have got to be exhausted.”
“We hit the hay and get a good night’s sleep in real beds for starters. Then, we lay low, react when and if we need to,” he finished.
Taking to her feet, she stretched, then grabbed the two empty beer bottles and headed for the rear door to the house. “I don’t know how you’re even upright. I’m headed to bed. Maybe tomorrow things will seem…easier.”
“It will, each day. Keep your bag packed and in the trunk of the car in the garage,” he said over his shoulder, halting her in her tracks.
“Excuse me? Car in the garage? Why is there another car in the garage, and why are we keeping our bags in it instead of the house?”
He stood, turning to follow her inside. “If we have to leave, it’ll be in a hurry. We never leave in the same car we arrived in. People won’t notice us leaving if we’re not in the car they expect to see us in. Oh…and no time to pack, so we stay packed or go without.”
After a brief moment, she met his stare and replied with a bob of her head, then went inside for the night.
Watching her leave, he got lost in thought – about her, who she was, who she was yet to become. She wouldn’t come out the other end of this the same person she was when it started. They needed to grieve their losses and the loss they were about to endure when tomorrow’s events played out, and she was declared dead. That would be her hardest day yet, the hardest to accept and the hardest to get through because she would be grieving her son and sister, too.
Tomorrow was the kind of day he needed to take special care. He wasn’t entirely sure what that meant, but somehow it sounded right in his head. Hanging out in town wasn’t the best idea and certainly didn’t contribute to laying low, but getting her out may be the right move.
They may not be able to enjoy all that the town offered, but getting familiar with all that it was and had to offer was appropriate. There was a Friday Farmers Market; she might enjoy that. It wasn’t personal – large crowd, easy to blend in. Then maybe he could gather things for a nice dinner that didn’t include eating animals of any kind.
He was feeling a bit sensitive, and emotionally aware – not him at all. All he could feel in that moment, when thoughts of vegan cooking and emotions raced through his head, was that he was becoming a giant pussy and he didn’t hate it. He even laughed at himself over that one.