Source: Pixabay
Willow Springs
Amy covered her mouth with her hand, green eyes widening in horror as she turned to Clay instinctively for comfort.
Her brother Luke scrubbed a palm over his stubble, stared into his cup of coffee and drained it in one gulp. He grimaced. “You should have let me enjoyed my first coffee this morning before making that announcement.”
Clay raked a hand through his dark brown hair. His gray eyes darkened and his jaw worked. Amy stared at him with a frown. He seemed more affected than usual unless it was something else.
Luke tipped his empty cup towards her. Without thinking, she groped behind her for the kettle. Amy knew the kitchen like the back of her hand. As the cook for their bed and breakfast, she practically slept and woke in the kitchen heat.
As she refilled her brother’s cup, Amy sought Clay’s eyes, trying to read his troubled gaze. He turned away from her. A shiver of apprehension trickled down her spine. Perhaps it was nothing, but her instincts were always so spot on, her brother sometimes called her a witch.
“Will you stop mooning over him and watch what you’re doing?” Luke asked in a disgruntled tone.
Without his first coffee, Luke was always grumpy. Everyone knew to stay away. Amy replaced the kettle and rested her shaky hands against her forehead, fear, and shock at the series of murders that had wracked their small town running through her.
She heard a chair scrape back. Seconds later, Clay’s warm hand ran up and down her back in soothing motions. Amy let out a sigh and relaxed under his caresses. She tipped her head back to study his handsome features. With his dark slash of eyebrows, thin lips, and swarthy skin, her man was beautiful. Amy couldn’t recall a time she didn’t love him. Everyone in Willow Spring knew Clay was hers and she was his.
As she studied his strained features, Amy knew something was wrong.
“Are you alright?” she asked in a whisper.
One of his eyebrows hiked up and he forced a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “I came to ask if you were alright, you were looking--”
Luke groaned and threw up his hands. “Can I enjoy my coffee without being harassed by your sickening display?”
Amy’s eyes sparkled and she patted Clay’s chest once. “I will get to you later.” He eyed her in amusement. She placed her hand on her hips and gave her brother a mock scowl. “You’re just jealous.”
Luke glowered. “You’re damn right I am. If Clay steals you away, and I mean IF because he’s slower than a snail with women--”
“With me.” Amy huffed in indignation.
“No one would cook for me.”
“Then get your own girlfriend,” Clay retorted.
Luke’s gaze sharpened. “Why are you taking your time with Amy? You’ve been dating for how long?” He wagged his brows. “Forever?”
Amy gave an awkward laugh. Why had the tension in the room suddenly spiked? Clay smiled tightly.
She cleared her throat. “We became official when he returned from the city.” Amy paused. “Seven years ago,” she added quietly.
Luke sipped his coffee and eyed his friend over the rim. “You went to enjoy the college women eh, and returned to wife my sister.” He tipped his cup in salute. “Smart man.”
Clay stiffened. “Forgive me if I’ve been too busy with the ranch and the murders--”
Luke raised an eyebrow. “Are you the Sheriff?”
Clay gritted his teeth until a muscle visibly jumped along his jaw. “They’ve been seven murders in this town in the past two years.”
Luke gave him a droll look. “Still doesn’t answer why you haven’t made an honorable,” his brow furrowed, “or is it respectable woman out of my sister.”
Clay raised an eyebrow. “It’s none of your damn business.”
With slow, deliberate motions, Luke placed his cup carefully on the table. “She’s my sister and--”
“Stop, stop,” Amy pressed a trembling hand to her forehead, “you both are giving me a headache.” She turned tortured eyes to Clay. “I’m sorry but I’ve also wondered why and if you would pop the question.”
Clay reached for her. “Babe, you should know--”
Amy glared at him. “That’s the thing. I’m not clairvoyant. If you don’t tell me what’s in your heart, how will I know?” She turned to her smug looking brother and sighed. “Clay’s right. Everyone is on tentacles, the tension in town is too high, no one, not even me will stomach a wedding.” She shook her head. “Not after seven unsolved murders.”
Luke snorted. “And if the murderer is never caught? You’ll remain single?”
Clay raked his hand through his hair. “Luke, stop.”
Luke sighed and covered his face with his hands. “I still can’t believe there’s a serial murderer on the loose in our tiny town.”
Amy drew in a shaky breath. “They were stabbed seven times dammit.”
Luke ran a weary hand down his face. “I’m sorry,” he shrugged, “my only excuse is--”
“You got your coffee time interrupted,” Amy said with raised eyebrows.
Anxious to take that bailout, Luke nodded. He walked around the table to press a kiss to her forehead. “Thank you. Now, I’m off.” He wagged a finger at them. “I know you’re secretly praying and waiting for me to go so you can continue your--” He made kissing motions with his face and Amy laughed.
Clay grinned. “How did you know?”
Source: Pixabay
Amy swiveled to face her prepared dishes. A glance at the clock showed they were set to begin business in thirty minutes. It was a Wednesday, a day she served her popular apple pie for dessert. It meant a sizable crowd would soon come in demanding their dessert and all she could think of was Clay and their vague relationship.
Rage, hot and roiling swept through her. She turned to face him and jerked when she found him in front of her. She searched his eyes. “Did you ever plan on living happily ever after, with me?”
The corner of his lips quirked upward in a wry smile. “Does that mean you aren’t happy with me?”
Amy gave him a slight shove and turned away, raking a hand through her blond hair. She shook her head, heartbreaking at what she had to say next. She swallowed hard. “I-I-I don’t think I can do this any longer.”
Clay gripped her shoulders and turned her around. “Do what?”
Amy bit her lip. “This,” she said, waving her hand between them.
Clay visibly shuddered. “I love you too much to watch you break off a relationship of seven years over nothing.”
Her eyes widened. “It’s not nothing, not to me.”
He dropped his hands from her shoulders. “You wanted to know what’s wrong.”
Amy flushed. “Jeez, I totally forgot about that.”
He smiled grimly. “Sit down.”
She gave a shaky laugh. “That bad?”
He shook his head. “Just sit.”
Amy untied her apron. But her shaky fingers tightened the ropes. She groaned in frustration.
“Here.” Clay stepped forward. He caught her fingers and pulled her into his arms. For a minute he just held her. Amy let out a deep breath. Clay stepped back to study her. “OK?”
She nodded. He untied the apron and pulled out a chair for her. Amy sat with her hands folded on her laps and waited anxiously. He took the chair opposite hers.
Clay ran a hand through his hair, leaving the end standing. “Yanick was…my friend.”
Amy frowned. “OK?”
He exhaled. “We met in college and we were very, very close.”
Amy reached for his hand and squeezed. “His death must have been quite painful for you. I’m so sorry.”
“He was gay,” Clay said harshly.
She frowned. “I know, everyone knew.”
“The six murders…” Clay clenched his fists, “they were all homosexuals.”
Amy stopped breathing. She pressed a hand to her chest as she struggled to take it in. “Are you saying…”
Clay nodded. “That’s what I’m saying. The Sheriff just pieced it together and his deputy’s wife came by the farm for some eggs…” he trailed off.
Amy leaned forward. “You’re saying he’s targeting homosexuals?”
Clay nodded. “All seven victims were homosexuals.”
She shuddered. “Christ.”
The news of the first murder had spread like wildfire. Willow Spring was a rural town with a population of less than one thousand two hundred. Life was sedate, quiet and peaceful. The most excitement they had was prom night for the teenagers. Young people were eager to escape to the city but most returned when older. Murder and Willow Springs didn’t belong in the same sentence. Until Gary Landers was found butchered in his bedroom. Goose pimples popped out over Amy’s skin as she recalled how he’d died. Seven horizontal slashes across his stomach and the murder weapon, a kitchen knife buried to the hilt inside him just below his chest.
Barely three months later, another followed, then four more spaced five months apart. Then, Yanick last night. If the town was peaceful before, now it was a graveyard. Fear held everyone captive, the locksmith business suddenly experienced a boom and the usual hot spots became empty. It was a wonder she could still keep the bed and breakfast going.
Amy ran a shaky hand over her forehead. “At least Dad’s no longer here.”
Clay’s head jerked up. “I thought you hated him.”
Amy shook her head. “I’m still angry.” She smiled softly. “I will always be angry with him for what he did to us, but he’s still my only surviving parent.”
Clay leaned forward. "Amy, I'm so sorry."
Amy reached out to caress his square jaw. “What? He left a long time ago. I'm past that.”
A tortured sob tore out from him. Her eyes widened in surprise. Clay was the most collected person she knew. It was a longstanding joke. Luke the one who wore his emotions on his sleeve while Clay was almost always so controlled. Except with her. And she was grateful he trusted her enough to let his guard down around her.
“Clay? I know Yanick was your friend--”
He pulled away from her sharply and clenched his fists. “We dated…Yanick and I--” he swallowed hard, his gray eyes burning with emotion, “during college.”
A buzzing sound began somewhere in her ears, drowning out her thoughts and his painful words. Yet they landed like well-struck blows in her most vulnerable places. If he wanted to hurt her, he couldn’t have chosen a better way.
She laughed, the sound mirthless, rusty and painful. “For how long?”
Clay rose. The lines of his face stark with pain and fear. “Please, Amy--”
She drew in a shuddering breath. “For how fucking long?”
Clay released his clenched fists. “Just three months in college and--”
“And you fucking think that makes it any less painful,” she screamed. Her chest grew so tight and she nearly went lightheaded with the pain. When she tried to speak again the words stuck somewhere in her throat but she had to say something. She had to hurt him the way he’d hurt her. “After everything you know about me,” she said hoarsely, “you turned around and used those same things against me?”
Clay spread his hands. “That was why I didn’t tell you then--” he broke off, hands fisting and releasing by his sides, he stared down at her shivering form and closed his eyes. “We weren’t together then and when I returned and we began dating I didn’t want to--”
Amy leaped to her feet. “I swear, if you fucking tell me you did it for me I will gut you so hard you’ll wish--” she stopped abruptly, panting and gasping for breath. Her eyes filled with tears and her lips trembled with the force of her emotions. “Answer me this.”
His expression frantic, Clay nodded. “Anything.”
“Are you…gay?”
He gritted his teeth. “I’m not. I have you.”
Her eyes widened to their fullest extent. “And when you had Yanick?”
Clay cursed. He turned and walked to the door. “For the record, there’s nothing wrong with choosing a particular lifestyle. I understand your,” his lips twisted sadly, “prejudice. But you and Luke need to grow up. Did I cheat on you? No. I only fucked up by not telling you about this earlier so we can get past it.” His eyes glittered. “But I will be damned if I will stand by while you malign the name of a good man because of your hangups.”
He opened the door.
Amy wrapped her arms around her shivering form. She didn’t know where the cold was coming from, deep inside her or outside?
She forced her lips to move even though all she wanted to do was curl up somewhere and lick her wounds. “Clay?”
He stopped, aching for her understanding, her forgiveness. Even a scrap of it would be enough for him at this point.
He turned.
“Why did you tell me now?”
Clay exhaled harshly. “Because last night reminded me life’s too short and if I want forever, with you, I better start taking it now.”
She bit her lips, her pain a living, writhing thing inside her.
“Amy?”
She looked up.
Clay’s hand tightened on the doorknob. “Is that all you want from me?” he asked harshly.
Amy jerked her head up. Here was her chance to hurt him. She could see in the tense line of his shoulders and the pleading look on his face that he wanted her forgiveness. She gritted her teeth. “Yes.”
His jaw went hard and a muscle jumped in his cheek. “I will be at the farm.”
For over an hour, Amy remained rooted to the spot as images of Clay and Yanick rolled like an endless reel through her mind. She passed shaky fingers over her forehead. A memory of her late mother running feathery caresses over her face, arm, forehead in goodbye, in hello and goodnight replaced that of Clay and Yanick. How she missed her. Mother wouldn't approve of this standoff they had with father.
Amy closed her eyes. Clay was right about one thing. She needed to grow up, put the past behind her and be the woman her mother would have wanted. Regardless of what he’d done, their father had been a good Dad. After six years, perhaps the time had come to confront him, ask him why he’d left.
Amy tried to move and grimaced. Her muscles seemed locked in place. Every movement towards the phone propped at the corner of the table was infused with reluctance and pain. She was about to open a six-year-old can of worms.
Amy picked the phone.
“Who are you calling?” Luke walked into the room. Amy blinked at his all black attire.
“You hate black,” she blurted.
Luke frowned. “You hate pink but you’re wearing pink.”
She shook her head. “It’s my cooking cloth, it doesn’t count.”
Luke grunted and pulled back the sleeves of his shirt. “Who are you calling?" he asked absently and reached for the kettle and a cup.
Amy nearly smiled. Coffee again. Her brother was so predictable. “You shouldn’t drink too much coffee.”
He poured, took a sip and smacked his lips. “Then you shouldn’t have a kettle waiting for me. If that isn’t encouragement, I don’t know what is.” He took another sip, closing his eyes in enjoyment. “Clay gone?”
Amy licked dry lips, dreading telling him who she was about to call. “Ermm, yeah.”
His eyes sharpened. “Why are you jumpy? Where did he go?”
Amy tucked her hair behind an ear. “The farm.”
He smiled. “Good. Now tell me who you’re calling?” Luke frowned. “You cheating on Clay?”
Amy gasped in outrage. “Of course not!”
He shrugged. “Then who?”
Her shoulders dropped in resignation. “Father.”
Luke paused. He gently replaced the cup and eyed her. “You’re joking right?”
She shook her head, misery rising in a tide inside her. “I thought we needed--”
Luke leaned forward, lips tight in anger. “Don’t. Don’t think. Don’t make the fucking call. Cook, run our business and focus on your fucking self.”
She raised her chin. “You don’t tell me who to call or--”
He gave a short laugh, ran a hand down his face and peered down at her. “Then get out of my fucking way.”
Amy jumped, staring at her brother in shock. No, not shock. She was dismayed. She’d opened a can of worms, she should expect this.
“Luke, please.”
He stopped at the door, the same spot as Clay, minutes ago. “When you talk to your loving father, tell him if he makes the mistake of returning to Willow Springs, he’s a dead man.”
Amy rushed forward. “Don’t say things you might regret.”
Luke took a deep breath. “OK.”
After he left, Amy stared at the phone like it would bite. Call or not? No, Clay was right. She needed to let go. And she needed to apologize to Clay. She’d reacted like a self-righteous, prejudiced bastard. And she had no excuse. A six-year-old one didn’t count.
Amy dialed the number she already knew by heart.
The call was picked immediately. “Amy?”
She closed her eyes. “D-dad?”
A rustle of clothes, a sniff, reached her ears. “Oh, my baby girl,” her father said in a choked voice.
Amy’s eyes popped open. “You’re crying.”
He laughed. The sound, old and familiar like a favorite blanket, wrapped around her heart and squeezed. At that moment, Amy knew she’d done the right thing.
“Of course, I’m crying. You called me. I’m hearing my daughter’s voice for the first time after six years.”
Amy swallowed. “I’m, ah, sorry, I didn’t pick your calls.”
Another rustle and the sound of her father calling to someone reached her ears. “Richard, it’s Amy.”
Richard. The man her father left their mother and his children for six years ago.
“Baby, how are you and Luke?”
She smiled. “We are fine. I-I just wanted to say hi.”
His breath caught and despite herself, tears prickled her eyelids. “No, the pleasure is all mine. I’m honored baby girl. And I’m so sorry for everything. I-I should have handled things better.”
Amy shook her head. With the benefit of hindsight, she understood. She cleared her throat. “Is there a better way to deliver such news?”
He exhaled loudly. “You’re right. Baby girl? Do you think I-I could come visit, maybe sometime? No, anytime you want," he added in a rush.
Her eyes filled with tears and her throat clogged with emotion. "You can visit us anytime--oh wait, Dad there's something--" Amy took a deep breath, "Willow isn't safe."
Her father chuckled. "That slow town--"
"Dad I'm serious. They've been seven murders and Clay thinks he's targeting homosexuals." The hair on her nape stood on end and Amy shivered. Could Clay be in danger too? Perhaps no one in Willow knew about his past relationship with Yanick.
Amy glanced at the clock. She needed to give the waitress instructions before heading over to Clay’s.
“Dad? I would really love to talk all day.” She was startled to realize it was true. “But--”
“It’s alright. I love you.” He hesitated. “Can you tell Luke I love him?”
Amy closed her eyes. “I will. And Dad?”
“Yes?”
“Everything will be alright?”
Source: Pixabay
Amy stopped before Clay’s land, generations old, it was passed down from father to son in the Matthews lineage. The fields were stretched out as far as the eyes could see. If she didn’t call to know the part of the farm he was working in, her feet would suffer for it.
The phone rang three times but wasn’t picked.
Amy frowned. Damn it, she wasn’t looking forward to walking around the farm all day searching for Clay. But since she was here already, she better get on with it. Amy got out the car and began the endless trek in search of Clay.
A hundred feet later, she stumbled on Clay’s phone on the ground. Amy picked it with a frown. It was unlike Clay to carelessly drop his phone. To her left lay the outbuildings for the horses. She decided to check there first.
Amy entered and turned left to one of the stables that housed Clay’s favorite horse. She heard voices and laughter.
“--Yanick.”
“It happened a long time ago,” Clay was saying, “and I apologized.”
Someone laughed. Amy’s eyes widened. She knew that laugh. Luke.
"I thought I had killed every last one of those sonofabitches, never knew you were hiding right under my nose, my friend."
"Think of Amy--"
“You only convinced her to open a can of worms I will crush soon.”
“I can’t believe you killed all those people,” Clay said. “We grew up with them.”
Luke chuckled. “Doesn't mean I have to die with them in their sins. They were unclean.”
“So is your father,” Clay said.
A loud smack followed. Then Luke screamed, “Just shut up. I’ve already told Amy, he comes here, he will join the dead men’s club.”
Amy took a step forward. Her brother stood with his back to her, a kitchen knife in his hand. Clay was tied and laid out before him like a willing sacrifice. A burning filled her chest and Amy found it difficult to breathe. Luke a serial killer? She gave her head a disbelieving shake but the scene before her didn’t change, neither did the words resounding in her head.
When you talk to your loving father, tell him if he makes the mistake of returning to Willow Springs, he’s a dead man. Luke’s words to her that morning. With sudden clarity, Amy knew Luke would kill Clay. She glanced around for a weapon, spied a shovel propped against the door beside her.
Amy took a step forward on shaky feet. With a loud growl that had both men turning towards her, she tightened her grip on the shovel and swung with all her might. For a second, her eyes met Luke’s shocked ones. The shovel caught him at the side of the head and he fell. She leaned on the shovel, panting. The mist finally lifted from her eyes and she blinked.
“Amy?”
She let the shovel slip from her hand and ran to Clay. “I’m so, so sorry.”
He pressed his face into her hair and inhaled. “No, I am sorry.”
Amy drew back to glance at her brother’s sprawled form. She placed her hand over her heart. “Think--” she licked her lips, “I killed him?”
“No,” Clay said. “He’s just stunned. Did you see my phone?”
Amy nodded absently, eyes glued to her brother as she prayed for him to move.
“Amy, call the Sheriff now, then get his knife to untie these.” He held up his bound hands.
"He's in big trouble, isn't he?" she asked in a dazed whisper. “I can’t believe he- he. Oh, God, you were right. We never did grow up--”
“Look at me,” Clay ordered.
She did.
He looked into her eyes. “I love you.”
Amy drew in a shuddering breath. “Me too, Luke--”
“It's alright. Now call the Sheriff and get the knife.”
Her expression turned wry. “In that order?”
Clay quirked his lips upward. “Not necessarily.”