North Country(85)

“Anyway,” Sarah says, rolling her eyes, “we have more orders than normal, and Mom’s stuck here, in the kitchen. Can you drive?” She dangles the set of truck keys in the air like they’re a treat.

I hesitate. “Can’t Jon go with you?”

She shakes her head. “He’s got Egan and there’s an issue with the tractor. He’s trying to get the mechanic in.”

Hell, I’d rather babysit a toddler and wait for the mechanic, but something tells me I’m not going to get out of this easily. My mother has dialed up her mission to get me off the property. “Just driving?”

“And shoveling a path so I can get to their doors.”

I sigh heavily. “Yeah, fine. As long as you’re dealing with these people.” Because there’s no way I’m delivering muffins with a fucking smile.

My mother holds out the shovel, beaming. “This is a good thing you’re doing, helping the seniors. It goes a long way in the community, especially around Christmas.”

She sounds eerily similar to Glen. I wouldn’t be shocked if she paid him a visit while dropping off that newspaper article. “How many houses are we talking here?”

Mom flashes a toothy, nervous grin.





“No, I can’t drop everything and get him. It’s Thursday … delivery day? … No, Logan’s helping me … Why? Seriously? How about because I’m pregnant with your twins and the roads are barely plowed. Turn right up here.” Sarah pauses her fight with Jon to give me directions to the gas station, though I remember where it is.

She’s been directing me all morning. According to Sarah, they normally have five or six stops, but this week the entire back seat of the truck is packed with brown paper bags, and two coolers in the truck bed hold the overflow.

We’ve already made nine stops. Four houses had visits from kind neighbors with snowblowers, leaving me to shovel paths to five front doors so Sarah could politely chat with the local elderly before handing off their meals. They’ve all greeted her with a smile and me with wary curiosity.

Every one of them has mentioned that Cold River Post article.

“No, this is going to take until well after lunch.” Sarah’s still arguing with Jon while I crank up the heat. “Are you nuts? I am not bringing Carson with us!”

I shake my head to second that idea before turning into the gas station.

She doesn’t acknowledge me, too busy glowering at the dashboard. “So, ask my mother to watch Egan for an hour. Or, hey, crazy idea, take him with you. You can handle it. I have complete faith in you.” She ends the call. “I swear to God, if I didn’t love him so much, I would murder him!” She smooths her palm over her rapidly growing belly. “And of course, Jon won’t get any details from the principal. He’ll just nod and agree and expect me to figure it all out later. ”

“Take a breath or two. You need to keep those things cookin’ inside you till spring.”

She follows my advice, inhaling deeply.

I pull up to a pump and cut the engine. “What’s going on with Carson?”

“They’ve suspended him for throwing a snowball.”

My eyebrows pop as I give my sister an “Are you kidding me?” look. “For a snowball?”

“Tightly packed, at another boy’s face, close range. There was blood,” she elaborates.

“Well, that changes things,” I concede.

“It’s not the first time. There’s usually a reason. I’ll bet it was that little shit, Alex Tippins. He’s always saying things about our family to rile Carson up.”

A memory strikes me then. “Remember when Jay made snowballs and sprayed water on them so they’d harden?” A few fine layers of mist, patience, and freezing temperatures made those things deadly.

“And then he threw one at the Shepherds’ truck as they were driving by? Dented the hell out of it. Vince was so startled, he almost went into the ditch. Yeah, I remember. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Dad so angry.” She shakes her head. “Sometimes Carson reminds me of how Jay was at this age. He doesn’t think or care about consequences.”

I sense Sarah’s mood darkening as her worry grows. “Do you want to go to the school after we’ve filled up?” She’s not going to be able to focus on much of anything else.

She considers it a beat. “It’s too far to drive him all the way home and then come back. We’d have to bring him with us.”

“He can squeeze up here. And I’ve got rope and a gag to keep him quiet.”

She bursts with laughter. “God, why did I think this was a good idea?” She gestures at her stomach. “I’m forty years old, I’m exhausted, and my husband is useless when it comes to raising the five children we already have.”

“He knows his bison, though.”

“They can have his offspring from now on.” She hands me the Landry corporate credit card before reaching for her phone, I assume, to tell Jon to stay put.

I slide out of the driver’s side and set to filling the tank, the cold metal of the pump biting into my bare hands. This is the most time Sarah and I have spent together since I was released, and the first time it’s been just the two of us. We’re not much closer than strangers anymore, even though we share so much.