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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

The Pendleton Omens - 7. Chapter 7

Lying to Sharon was a mistake. Jamie’s bright. And Scoot and I aren’t stupid. But Sharon’s always been brighter than us all.

“Jamie’s trying to distract me,” she said in her first call Saturday.

I was still at Noah’s. He’d gone in to work a half-day, trying to make up some of his missed appointments. I was lying on the couch, reading, and his dog was begging food. Though she knows she gets nothing from me.

“What’s Jamie saying?” I asked Sharon, trying to sound innocent. I hadn’t checked my e-mail or texts.

“She’s reminding me of all the other strange things Scoot’s done. And all the other times I’ve worried without reason. And she’s trying to make me think I’m doing it again.”

So far Jamie was on course.

“And she’s kind of hinting that Scoot’s off into something mystical. Something he knows I won’t approve of. Something harmless but Zen.”

I wondered what kind of papers Jamie was writing. That she’d hit on that.

“Well, Scoot’s always had his private side,” I hedged. “And since we raised him to respect all religions...”

“We raised him that way because we didn’t believe in any of it ourselves.”

“You could say that.”

“I am saying that. And it’s not that I worry that he’s suddenly gone off trying to find Buddha. If he’s in Nepal or India, I’m all for it...”

“Since when?”

“Well, I could be all for it if I had a chance to talk him out of it first. But if it’s something he really wanted to do...”

I laughed. “You’d be absolutely thrilled if Scoot came home, changed his name back to Scott, married some nice, conservative woman, and gave you three grandkids.”

Sharon laughed, too. “There is that,” she admitted.

And I wondered if I was better at distracting her than Jamie.

“But would you have wanted to do what your parents asked?” I went on.

“I did,” she reminded me.

“Except for the pregnancy.”

“That worked out fine.”

“And our marriage?”

“That almost worked out.”

We both laughed.

“Is Noah around?” she suddenly asked.

“No, he’s working.”

“You want to have lunch?”

“I would if the roads were safe.”

“If I really needed you to?”

“If you really needed me to, I’d probably do anything. You know that.”

“I do,” she told me. “It’s the one thing I’ve always been thankful for.”

Then she said nothing. But there was something in her silence that worried me.

“What you gonna do today?” I asked.

She hesitated. “I have no idea.”

“You always have a list.”

“Well, I’ve lost it. Or tore it up. Or don’t want to think about it.”

Now Sharon doesn’t manipulate people. She’s no good at it. And she’s never tried to manipulate me. She’ll argue, yeah. And she’ll try to use logic out her ass. But when she started sounding lost, all I could ask is, “Where do you want to have lunch?”

“Northampton,” she said. “You know the restaurants are better. I’ll meet you at our usual place.”

That was an upscale college bar down Main Street from Smith.

“How about the Japanese place instead?” I suggested.

“Sure,” she said, evidently eager to get out of the house.

“I’m going to Northampton,” I asked Lleeya to tell Noah. He never checked his messages while he was working. “He can reach me on my cell.”

“Be careful,” she warned. “It’s bad out there.”

I knew that. I nearly fell twice in Noah’s driveway. But the roads were sanded. And in those conditions, I drive like an old guy. I reached the restaurant intact.

“Why Japanese?” was the first thing Sharon wanted to know after she kissed me.

“I thought you might like it.”

She smiled. “I always have.”

“Always? Fifteen years ago, neither of us knew what yellow tail collar was.”

We laughed. Then we got down to business.

“I found Carla,” she started. “It wasn’t hard. I remembered her father’s name.”

“And?”

“And I talked with her. She isn’t good. Nothing’s quite working out, and she’s thinking about going to grad school.”

“She’s been to grad school. That’s where she was when Scoot was an undergrad.”

“This time in psychology. She’s tired of being an actress.”

“She has the looks for it.”

“And the talent – no one’s ever doubted that. But maybe not the patience.”

I grinned. “It sounds like you had a nice talk.”

“Yeah.” Sharon smiled again. “And maybe I like Carla more when she isn’t so sure of herself.”

That didn’t say much about Sharon. But I let it go.

“I take it she hasn’t heard from Scoot,” I went on.

“Not for three or four months.”

“So her suddenly being more stable isn’t a lure?”

“It might be,” Sharon admitted. “Once he finds out. But Carla isn’t telling him till she’s in a program.”

“Suddenly, I feel sorry for Amy.”

“Why?”

“Carla always was competition.”

“I guess.”

“Though she seems a dead end as far as finding Scoot.”

Sharon agreed. “I don’t know what to do next.”

“Wait.”

“I can’t. I have worst feeling about this.”

“How?”

“I don’t know. But you know me.”

I had to laugh. Sharon had one huge superstition. “You not gonna bring up Bryan Pendleton again?” I asked.

Even she looked a little embarrassed. But she admitted, “Yes. This is exactly the way he always made me think.”

I waited. She recited.

“When everything points in your direction but turns out completely wrong.”

“The dreaded Pendleton omens.”

“You’ve always made fun of them,” she said.

“I don’t believe in fate.”

“Sometimes, you do.”

“Well, sometimes it’s too superstitious not to.”

She didn’t laugh. Just plowed on.

“Well, that’s how I’ve been feeling all week,” she said. “Since Amy called. I keep looking for signs. And they’re all good. Everything’s fine. So I shouldn’t be worrying about Scoot.”

“Then don’t.”

“Will that help us find him?”

I let the question be rhetorical.

“And you remember how things were with Bryan,” she went on. “No matter what I wanted him to do – or what I wanted to happen... And no matter how many small things would go right every day – pointing toward the answers I wanted. Bryan never loved me.”

“He loved you. You just couldn’t make him change his plans.”

She shrugged.

“So you married me,” I pointed out. Smiling.

“Don’t make me lose my point.”

“Sorry.”

“Because it’s important. It’s how I feel. That everything’s going right. But secretly everything’s wrong.”

I tried to sort this out. “Wait a minute. Isn’t Scoot’s disappearing a bad sign?”

“No, it’s not a sign. It’s a fact. Like the morning Bryan left. A week before our wedding. Just like that. Well, Scoot’s gone. Something bad’s happened while everyone’s smiling.”

“The weather’s been terrible.”

“Be serious.”

“Why? What good would it do?”

“I want you to find him.”

“We’ve been trying.”

“No, I mean go to California.”

I was stunned. All I could do was repeat, “Be serious.”

“It’s what you do,” she said.

“What?”

“Find people.”

“What?”

“It’s what you’ve been doing for over twenty years.”

I had to laugh. “You can’t call what I do hardcore detective work. I do accident reports. I find out who’s responsible for insurance. I figure out which kid got a new BB gun and is shooting out his neighbor’s windows. And I do it in a very small town. You can’t expect me to go all the way across the country, to a city I’ve never seen, and find someone I don’t even think is missing.”

“If he isn’t missing, you should be able to find him.”

“If he isn’t missing, he’ll be back in a very short time.”

“He is missing. I know it. Because all the signs say no.”

I had to think about that. A reverse Pendleton omen. I was never good with those.

“I still think you’ve got this backwards,” I told her. “You’ve always said things were going well, then Bryan left. Lights would turn green. Flowers would grow unexpectedly. You’d find something you’d given up as hopelessly lost. But now, Scoot might be missing – which could be a terrible sign. So if the reverse is true, everything’s okay.”

“That’s not how it works, and I should know. I made it up.”

We laughed, but she had me there, and I had to admit it.

“And you’re trying to weasel out of this,” she went on. “You don’t want to go.”

“You got that right.”

“Why not?”

Where to begin? Or begin again? It seemed like I’d been saying the same thing all week. “You said you’d do anything,” Sharon quickly reminded me, before I could even start my list. “Well, if that’s true, find Scoot.”

I was trapped again. Twice. In five seconds. But the truth was I really didn’t know where to start.

“He could be anywhere in the world,” I said.

“I’m sure he’s in LA.”

“Why?”

“Because if he left, he would’ve told us. You’ve got to trust me on that.”

“But why do you think something bad’s happened?”

“I don’t know. I just do.”

That’s what Jamie had said. All I said was, “Sharon, be real.”

“I’m trying to be. I’m trying to get you to believe me.”

I just couldn’t accept that Scoot might be dead in some alley. Couldn’t even imagine it. I could imagine Scoot having fun. I could always see that. But Sharon wasn’t convinced.

“I’ll see what I can do,” I told her.

“You mean that?”

“Yes.”

“Promise?”

“I don’t have to. You know that.”

“Do you?”

“Yes. Of course.”

“Good. Thanks. It’s why I’ll always love you.”

Copyright 2006 Richard Eisbrouch; All Rights Reserved
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
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Okay. This chapter was less confusing to me. In some chapters, I couldn't figure out who was speaking, much less who the people were. Maybe it's because I'm not a big mystery reader – I've read a few including a now very dated series about a Gay detective based in LA named Dave, I think, and a Lesbian mystery or two.

 

But I'm interested enough to keep going even through my confusion… ;-)

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On 09/12/2016 04:17 AM, droughtquake said:

Okay. This chapter was less confusing to me. In some chapters, I couldn't figure out who was speaking, much less who the people were. Maybe it's because I'm not a big mystery reader – I've read a few including a now very dated series about a Gay detective based in LA named Dave, I think, and a Lesbian mystery or two.

 

But I'm interested enough to keep going even through my confusion… ;-)

It's good to know you're having trouble following the dialogue. You're not the first person to say that about my writing, so I don't think it has to do with the mystery. Of my dozen books, this is only one of two mysteries I've written.

 

I think I add enough reference points in conversations to let people know who's speaking, but I don't want to overdo it. If it helps, I very rarely put more than two people in a conversation, so the dialogue usually alternates.

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Mother’s always worry about their kids, it doesn’t matter what age you are mum will still worry about you if she hasn’t spoken to you for a few days. Although those women who are not maternal may not show it but I would hope that she does care, or the fundies that kick their kids out because they are LGBTQ

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From what we know of Scoot, he was probably out seeking adventures at an early age.  I doubt he stood still long enough to be kicked out of any place, let alone his home, where he was loved.

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