The Write House by Stuart Fabe

Author:Stuart Fabe
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Stuart A. Fabe

Chapter 12

HEATHER BEE DRIVES her Nash automobile out of the Engels’ driveway and turns east on Walnut Street toward Greencastle. She looks in her rearview mirror at her disheveled hair, then swerves to miss a pothole in the dirt road. She turns north on Indiana Street and drives slowly past the courthouse square. She glances quickly at the real estate office and doesn’t see Rice Foxx’s auto parked in front.

Heather continues heading north on State Route 231 toward the Putnam County fairgrounds and turns right on a little used road which is soggy from a recent flooding of Big Walnut Creek.

“No wonder Rice hasn’t been able to sell this property. Who’d buy a shabby house whose basement gets flooded after every heavy rainfall?”

She approaches an old wooden frame house and pulls behind it and parks next to Rice’s car. She looks in the mirror again at her hair and tries to shape it a bit. She winces as she brushes against the place where she’d been hit in the Engels’ nursery. “For pity sakes, what I do for that man!”

She gets out of the Nash and enters the back door of the rundown house. “Where’s the baby?” she hurls at Rice.

“In the living room. She’s fine.”

Heather slaps Rice hard across the face. “And, that’s what you get for hitting me so hard, you big lummox!”

“Sorry, but I had to make it look convincing.”

“Yeah, well, it felt pretty damn convincing too.” She goes to slap him again, but he deflects her hand. She turns and goes into the living room to check on Aurora. “Ah, there you are, my sweet little one. Your Auntie Heather is here for you.”

“Where’d you put her diapers and baby food, Rice?”

“It’s there on the table. She’s been crying a bunch, and I thought I’d just wait for you to get here and take care of her.”

Heather gently picks Aurora up and sits on a tattered sofa. She places the infant on her lap and coos at her as she spoon feeds her creamed peas and carrots.

“She smells!” Rice laments.

“Well, you’d smell too if someone snatched you and stuffed you in a carpetbag.” Once she’s fed, Heather cleans the child up and changes her diaper. “Oh, you’re such a love! And you, Rice Foxx, are a pain in the ass.”

He dismisses the insult. “I’ve got to make another telephone call.” He retreats to the kitchen, and Heather listens as he muffles his voice.

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