Part 2: 9 - Locked

No easy way through for Maeve and Todd

Things That Can’t Be Broken is a novel presented as a live draft, one chapter every week.

Last week: Part 2: Chapter 8 - Nova • It goes for a while until it doesn't

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Part 2 | History is a Pile of Debris

9 - Locked

Unsplash photo credit: the blowup

Maeve Allen

July 13, 1988

Dehesa Valley, California

Maeve slunk through the grocery aisles like a fugitive, wearing her best mental blinders in the hope of avoiding recognition. Yet she became aware of a young couple exchanging glances in her direction. She concentrated on the mission at hand, selecting a chicken to roast for dinner. The couple moved on in the periphery.

It had been a month since she and Todd were forced to lock the front gate. She never could have imagined such a thing would be necessary. The attention they received that first week after Dani Cartwright’s abduction, the cameras, the posters, and the angry voices at the gate had dwindled. But coming and going through the locked gate was more akin to incarceration than any feeling of security.

Groups, most likely high school kids, were still showing up late at night, some were just curious, others were more destructive. The dawn walk to the front gate to remove any derogatory posters from the night before, had become part of their daily routine. And Todd had already painted over red paint splattered onto the front gate twice. Ginger and Merrylegs had pushed their way out of the house a few times, hackles bristling, to run barking down the drive. She was less worried they would hurt anyone, big softies that they were, and more concerned that someone out there might hurt them.

Todd had not slept well since the news crew and subsequent visitors began to haunt the drive. There was no escape. The one night she convinced him that they should take her sister Genny up on her offer to stay at her place, the dogs were quiet and Todd did sleep a little. But when they came home, they noticed the skid of tracks coming down the hill behind the house where someone had hopped the back fence. They didn’t find anything missing except their best laying hen, and there were footprints leading to and from the coop. Who knows what else could happen. They stayed home at night now, and the gate remained locked at all times.

On her way to gather Todd’s oatmeal, Maeve passed several yards of bright cereal boxes. Count Chocula and Tony the Tiger were holding up sugary bowls, beaconing children. Her mind went to the growing descanso under the pepper tree outside their front gate, where someone had erected a white cross. Framed photos, stuffed bears, shiny balloons, plastic flowers, and small kites continued to collect at the base of the tree. She and Todd left the memorial alone, but they could not pass by without feeling its sad presence.

Not a week after her own cousin publicly insinuated that her husband was the child’s murderer, the actual killer, a truck driver from El Centro, named Jack Estes, was found dead. They say he took a two-hundred-foot dive off a narrow fire road in a green Nova that looked a lot like Todd’s GTO. There was evidence the car had been chased by another vehicle. The police believed Estes had been running errands for the Tijuana Cartel. Supposedly, Dani Cartwright’s abduction was one of those errands. But why Estes killed the child and then chose to bury her body just beyond their front gate was impossible to comprehend. Dani had been Barb’s neighbor, and Barb had told her about their horsemanship program, but what did that have to do with the kidnapper’s decision to bury the poor child where he did? Maeve shook her head. She was only creating more anxiety for herself. She pulled out her list and crossed off the oatmeal.

Todd was cleared entirely, of course, but the shocking story had already done its damage. Who wouldn’t be interested when a man, known throughout the community for his work with youth, came into view as a suspect in the murder of a child? Pinned to Todd, the story was impossible to ignore. Everyone was watching the news that first week, but when the actual killer was discovered, the news coverage was less than spectacular.

It was less intriguing to the public when the murder was attached to a drug cartel, a familiar, though mostly faceless and unspoken, evil. Suspicion continued to lurk under the surface toward Todd. And there were no apologies, public or private, not from Veronica, her employer, or any other news station for that matter.

People still wanted to tie Todd to the murder. Her sister, Genny said she had overheard one of her seventh-grade students tell another student that Todd Allen was probably connected with the cartel and in on the kidnapping. She had pulled the boy aside and quietly set him straight. There was no way of knowing where these rumors began, but Genny said the next day she had given every class a short lesson about the damage rumors can cause.

Grabbing her last item, a giant bag of horse carrots, Maeve pushed her cart to the checkout line. Blinders still activated, she barely noticed two blonde heads in front of her in the line. When the grocery clerk looked back curiously at Maeve for a moment, Maeve recognized the two blondes, Veronica and Vera. Damn. Vera was popping gum and sifting through magazines while Veronica was fishing in her purse to pay. They hadn’t noticed Maeve yet. She looked around for another line, but this appeared to be the only one open. The man behind her looked bored. Maybe she would be able to get through this without a scene.

Watching her cousin banter cheerfully with the clerk, Maeve’s long-unacknowledged anger began to prickle behind her ears. It ran down the back of her neck. Veronica was going on peacefully with her life. Nothing had changed for her, but she was well aware of what she had done. She knew she had turned the community against her and Todd.

It was not only she and Todd’s lives Veronica had messed with, but it was also the lives of all their students. As of yet, not one of the approved first year students had turned in their acceptance paperwork for the horsemanship program. Most of the other students’ yearly contracts were also still pending, with only two weeks until the deadline. Yesterday, she took it upon herself to call a few she hadn’t heard from. She had never had to remind anyone before. The students had always been excited to be there and quick to return their paperwork. But she and Todd, and therefore the horsemanship program, had become controversial; even the teens and parents who knew them had to be feeling pressure from family and friends to disassociate.

Maeve’s ire traveled all the way down her spine. By the time she reached the register, her jaw was clenched. Her hands trembled as she pulled out her wallet to give cash to the clerk. When he handed back the change, a few coins clattered onto the floor, attracting far more attention than she desired. As Maeve ducked to pick them up, she saw Vera look back at her with a sneer, ponytail waving as she followed Veronica outside.

Maeve rolled her cart through the automatic doors. The click of Veronica’s shiny red heels on the pavement became a swarm in her mind. A warm breeze blew. Sunglasses on, Veronica looked smug behind her shopping cart in the brightness of the summer day. The woman had no remorse about the damage done by her tilted news broadcast. And why would she? The attention it received was a boon to her success as a reporter. But it was more than a career move. Maeve knew Veronica had intentionally set out to injure her through insinuating the guilt of her innocent husband. Before Maeve realized what she was doing, she had lunged across the parking aisle and caught Veronica by the arm. Veronica looked back at her, startled for a moment.

As if they had already been having the conversation running in her head, Maeve heard herself say, “Really, Veronica? Aren’t we family? Didn’t I tutor you in English through high school? You might not even have that career . . .” Maeve caught herself and stopped, watching her cousin’s eyes narrow behind the shadow of her sunglasses, and glancing at the people in the parking lot who had stopped in their tracks to stare.

She tried to soften her tone, speaking slowly though not quietly, “You knew Todd was not remotely responsible for the death of Dani Cartwright. And who told those people to make posters and show up at our front gate?”

Veronica turned her head sideways, her lipsticked mouth was drawn tight. She said nothing for a moment, then blurted out, “Maeve Allen. I don’t know what you’re talking about. The posters were there before I . . . ,” said Veronica.

Maeve interrupted, “That’s right. They were. They were there before anyone knew anything, before you and your camera crew even arrived. I thought I was missing something in you, Veronica. I thought there was some good under the surface. But you never got over our grandfather’s choice to single me out . . .” Vera gave her the bird from the BMW’s passenger seat. “The example you set for your daughter—you have no honor as a human being. I used to think we would make amends at some point, but I’ve had enough of you in my life.”

Veronica scanned the scattered audience in the parking lot for a moment and backed away, lowering herself into her seat and slamming the car door.

Maeve had made the scene she planned to avoid. Maybe she had just added a nice dry log to the already blazing rumor inferno, but she felt little shame as she pulled in a deep breath, releasing it slowly. She had to admit it felt good to get some truth out there.

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Todd wasn’t in the house when she brought in the groceries. She took a few fresh carrots to the barn, Ginger trailing closely behind with keen interest. She found Todd in Lacey’s stall, brushing the horse to a high sheen. She snapped a carrot in half and he looked up from his work. She handed one half to the sweet mare, the other to the plump, tail-wagging Ginger, who ran to a corner and lay gnawing her prize as if it were a steak bone.

“Hello, mo ghràdh, brave messages gatherer. How did it go?”

Getting the messages, thought Maeve. It might be Scottish slang for a grocery run, but it was more than apropos in this case. “I ran into Veronica,” she said.

He waited.

Why not confess? “I made a scene,” she told him, “But I got some truth out in the open, and some anger off my chest.”

“I’m sorry to hear aboot the scene.” He patted the gleaming horse on the shoulder and ducked under the chain that blocked the open stall door. “Well, I had a run in with Bill at Palm Feed myself, so I guess we are even.”

“Oh?” Maeve asked, feeding Lacey another carrot.

“Aye, when I called to check on our regular month’s order, which was almost a week late, ye ken. He said he could’na deliver it. He had no drivers available. ‘Well, I said, I need that hay.’ I thought aboot it for a while. We’re doon to the last bale of the timothy and only a few alfalfa bales left. I was’na doing anything, so I went to pick it up myself in the old lorry.”

The look on Todd’s face told her a lot, but she asked, “What happened?”

“Pete refused to sell anything to me. The liar told me the entire lot they had on hand was already reserved.”

Maeve’s face pinched and she felt her ears redden. “What?!”

Todd nodded, picking up a rake and pulling at a stray pile of shavings. “So, I drove oot to Dell’s Feed in Bonita. I guess we’ll be going there now. A bit out of our way . . . and they do’na deliver. . .”

“I’m so sorry, my love.”

Todd put down the rake and closed Lacey’s stall door. “I was angry at first, but it was nothing a brush and a horse could’na set right.”

“It isn’t right, though,” said Maeve, embracing her husband. They walked in silence back up to the house, hands clasped in solidarity, each with jaws clenched in annoyance at how the other had been treated.

Inside, Maeve went to the answering machine while Todd poured himself a glass of water from the faucet. The first recorded voice said, “Mrs. Allen, this is Tanya Brown. I’m sorry I missed you. I just wanted to tell you, regarding your call about the contract for your horsemanship program. . . Beryl-ann has decided not to attend. Thank you.”

“Och, that’s nae good news,” said Todd, walking over to the counter where Maeve was standing. “Do ye think it was really Beryl-ann who decided?”

“I don’t know,” said Maeve. “It’s hard to tell by the message, but it could be. She is a teen, and it would have been her first year. She doesn’t know us, and there may be pressure from the other kids.”

Maeve played the next message: “Hi, Mr. Allen and Mrs. Allen, it’s Vik,” He sounded cheerful, but didn’t he always? Maeve and Todd exchanged worried looks. As if in response, the message said, “Don’t worry. I’m going to be there in September. I wouldn’t miss my last year for anything! The contract is in the mail. Sorry it’s late. Namaste!”

“Good news!” said Maeve, smiling at Todd.

“Have you heard from anyone else?” He asked.

Maeve sighed. “I have a list going.” She went to her office and brought out her spiral notebook. They sat down together at the table, sun glinting through the window. She had all the students names for each year listed under the words, “Contracts Pending”. She crossed out Beryl-ann.

4th: Vik, Terry, Joan

3rd: Mary, Stephanie, Trin

2nd: Eric, Maria, Annette

1st: Amy, Travis, Beryl-ann, Melissa

“Och. We may not have any new students,” said Todd.

Maeve turned up one side of her mouth. “I haven’t heard from Amy.”

“Maybe we should shutter for the year,” Todd said quietly, almost to himself.

He knew what her response would be. “No. No, that’s not fair. What about the students who do want to be here? This trouble is going to pass, Todd. You know it will.”

Todd’s lips pushed together. He stared down at the table and sighed.

Maeve said, “Thirteen kids have graduated from our horsemanship program so far. We have given each of those kids an experience they could not get anywhere else, a good positive base for the rest of their lives. This is our dream, my love. We can’t let this trouble stop the good work we’re doing. What about Vik? Maria? They want to come back.”

“Why do you say, we can’a let this ‘trouble’ stop the good work. Why not say, we can’a let this ‘murder’ stop us?” Todd paused before he began again in an even tone, “I hate to have to say this to ye, mo ghràdh . . . My heart is no longer in it.”

Maeve let the space between them fill with a long silence while her heart sank from the sting of his words. She went into herself and drew from the deep well of compassion she held for this man and said without question, “You have done nothing wrong. You have nothing at all to be ashamed of. You know that, don’t you?”

Todd breathed in, straightened, and stared at the floor while he let out a sigh, then he tilted his head and looked at her, “I do ken. I ken I am not to blame . . . But is it nae funny? I ken well that I did’na kill anyone, yet I surely feel as if I did. My heart aches as if I am responsible for that little girl’s death. I see the mistrust in faces everywhere I go. Some of them turn away, others glare outwardly. I ken in my head I did’na kill her, but nae in my heart. The child died trying to come here. It is hard nae to believe that I somehow caused Dani Cartwright’s death. I’m clearly nae the only one who believes that.”

“You can’t believe that,” said Maeve looking up into his eyes. “And I don’t want us to give up our dream. It’s our dream, and it’s a good dream. We do good things, my love.” She saw his eyes were red, his brows downturned. She hesitated only a beat before saying, “But maybe you’re right. Maybe we should put things on hold here for a little while and go to Scotland after all, for a month or two, while things settle here and people forget.”

“It will look like we ran away,” said Todd.

She nodded down at the table before looking back up at him. “That’s something to consider. But we will come back. And we will make sure everyone knows that we will be coming back.”

He squeezed her hand gratefully. “It would be good to see Grace. And Mam.”

“I have a feeling a little time with Grace is just the medicine you need to set you straight.”

“Aye,” he chuckled softly. “She’ll nae hold back, ye can bet on that.”

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Next

Part 2 | History is a Pile of Debris

10 - Drift

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Behind-the-Scenes Extra

It’s been a busy week here in the real world, complete with desert wind, wildfires, birthday parties, and a fender bender (no injuries). This chapter was still nothing but a blank page and an outline until Wednesday—which was a marathon. But it came together. Phew! We’re still not one-hundred percent out of the woods with the latest wildfire, but by the time you read this, I’m sure it will be under control. I hear rain is coming Saturday afternoon.

I have received some feedback that Todd’s Scottish accent can interrupt some readers. I don’t want that, so I am working on creating a balance where you can hear the accent without it knocking you out of the story. These are exactly the kind of things I need to know. Grace has an even heavier accent, so gosh, that may be challenging.

Speaking of accents and having to read them, I recorded a voiceover for Chapter 2. I have to sing a little in Chapter 2, so my ears will be red with embarrassment for a while. Hopefully yours won’t hurt for too long after that. I’d like to post at least a chapter or two of voiceovers every week until I get caught up, but the new chapters themselves are my top priority. The voiceovers will come as soon as possible. I’m super excited that sound engineer, Tyler Darlington, is helping me with the sound edits.

And most of all, thank you for reading! I love comments, and little hearts make me smile. 😊