Sticks and Stone by David James Warren

Author:David James Warren
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Tristone Media Group

11

Before we leave the farmhouse, my mother loads up a baggie with fresh muffins and it’s blindingly clear Eve is their new favorite.

Last time around, I didn’t introduce them to Eve until after we’d eloped, so this is new. I know what you’re thinking, but I did mention that things were rough between my parents and me during our original go-round.

I’m trying to do better this circle through time.

Shelby is in my thoughts as we drive in on the snowy, salty roads. I need to call her and update her on the translation of Yasir’s note.

I still have a hard time wrapping my brain around the idea that Shelby Ruthers is my partner.

I have a clear memory of her pushing me up against the wall and kissing me.

Almost like she can read my mind, my cell phone rings just outside the city, her name flashing on my screen.

“Where are you?” she asks without preamble. “I’m at your house. I thought you’d need a ride.”

Right. “I went out to Waconia to pick up my Jeep. But I got the translation of Yasir’s note.”

I don’t mention where I spent the night, but I’m guessing she’ll figure it out.

Choices. My father’s words hang in my head. Your choices are the only thing you can control.

I don’t know what fate will do with my choices of last night, but at least I can live with myself.

“What does it say?” Shelby asks.

“That Talib, Fadima’s husband, is in the United States, and my guess is that means Minnesota. And that she’s not safe at their house. If Fadima followed his instructions, then it’s true that Maryam didn’t know where her sister was staying.”

“Now what?”

“I’m going to Maryam’s house to have another chat with her.”

“I’ll meet you there. She’s not going to talk to you, Rembrandt.”

Right. “Okay.”

I follow Eve all the way until we get to Uptown, then she heads toward the city.

I take Longfellow down to the Standish neighborhood.

The banks are piled high with snow, the plows out in force. It’s probably a snow day, the kids gloriously thrilled about staying home. A few bundled children are building tunnels in the berms along the sidewalks. The snow lays heavy on the trees, a few limbs are down, and wind whisks the top layer of snow off the drifts and tosses it against the sun in tiny. chilly sparkles.

There is no evidence of yesterday’s tragedy as I pull up to Maryam’s white and green bungalow with the front porch. No car in the drive either, so probably Yasir isn’t here. I wait for Shelby in the car, and listen to the Steve Miller Band urge me to take the money and run. Maybe. I like how this timeline is going, and I’m feeling grace in my bones.

Like maybe this time, I’m doing something right.

But not if these two kids are already frozen.

Shelby’s car pulls up behind mine and she gets out, wearing her down jacket, her badge around her neck. I feel like a bum in yesterday’s clothes.

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