The Pineview Incident (4 page)

“You’re not helping.” Donna blew so hard on her latte that foam shot across the table. “I'm. Fine.”

“Sure you are. I’m just concerned for the welfare of all our napkins.” Hannah pointed to the tiny pieces of what had once been a napkin now floating around Donna like snow.

Donna looked at the table and tried to sweep the white fluff into a pile, only to have it drift away and scatter over the floor. She moaned and put her head in her hands. The table shuddered, and she looked up to see Hannah perched on the seat across from her.

“You look worried about me,” Donna mumbled and then took a burning mouthful of coffee.

“I'm not used to you showing emotions, so, yeah, I'm worried,” said Hannah. “Now spill it.”

“I’m just frustrated, that’s all.”

“So I'd gathered. What’s got you so frustrated?”

“Mark.”

Hannah chuckled. “You two have been at it since you were kids. What’d he do now?”

“He's trying to save the town.”

“No one can do that.”

“I know, but he's going to try. They're gonna dissect him for it, too.”

Hannah looked at Donna for a long while. “I won't ask you to explain that last remark because it's kinda creepy. This town could use some shaking up, though. Who knew farmers could get so crazy over a long haired guy?”

“It was the vans. I'm sure it was the vans. If they hadn't been black, nothing would have happened.”

“You may be right about that.” Hannah gave Donna a hard look. “I think it's high time you and Mark came to terms with being adults. He hasn't done anything to hurt you and you haven't done anything to offend him, so maybe you two could try to be friends.”

“He made me go into his shop and then made fun of me,” Donna said. It sounded childish even to her. She hoped to see sympathy in her friend's eyes, but instead saw curiosity.

“Really? You went in there? What’s it like?” Hannah leaned over the table.

“It's clean. Really clean, like you could eat on the floor. Everything has a place there and there's a sense of order to it.”

“You're kidding! I've always thought the place would look like my Julio's workshop. Cluttered and greasy.”

“Oh, I did too,” said Donna, glad for the distraction. “I was shocked to see it so orderly. Of course, Mark doesn't have a family, so he has time to keep it up.”

“I've never understood that about him,” sighed Hannah. “He was a good catch.”

Donna snorted and took another sip. “He's been a menace all his life.”

“He was also a good friend and uncle to your children. Has he seen the pictures of your newest arrival yet?”

Rather than answer, Donna decided to drown her frustration in her coffee cup.

“Donna,” Hannah pushed. “Mark has been a part of the best days of your life. Maybe it’s time to give him the benefit of the doubt. Maybe he wants to help the town. Maybe he simply wants to make sure people aren't hurt.”

“And maybe he's just being obstinate because he hates change.”

“Well, yes, that's a given. Now, back to my question. Have you shown him your new granddaughter or not?”

Donna thought about the handful of pictures she carried with her. With a daughter in Seattle and a son in Billings, those pictures were her lifelines. Guilt prickled her spine as she remembered the years Mark and her husband had taken her children on outings and fishing expeditions. Her children were the only ones Mark would ever be able to claim as his own.

“I thought not.” Hannah looked like a mother scolding her child. “Next time you see him, you need to let him have a look at those grandkids. He misses them too, and he misses John.”

Donna looked at Hannah and knew she was right. She hated that fact.

Mark had always been her scapegoat, and life was much easier with a scapegoat. However, the truth remained that Mark had been an important part of her life and she had refused to acknowledge it. She knew a series of small childhood trifles shouldn't result in a life-long hatred, but the hatred felt so good. It felt comfortable.

But now, for the first time in her life, hating Mark felt wrong.

She looked out the window just in time to see Mark step out of his shop and begin sweeping the sidewalk with a murderous vengeance.

He shoved the broom back into his shop, locked his door, and began to walk away when he noticed Donna and Hannah looking at him from a booth in the coffee shop.

He glared at Donna, and she gave him a heated stare right back.

Fixing his eyes on Donna's, Mark stuck out his tongue.

Donna gasped. She knew it! She knew he wasn't worth her pity. She scooted as close to the window as she could and then forced her tongue out with all her strength.

Mark turned on his heel and stomped down the sidewalk, and Donna let out a loud harrumph before slamming herself back in her booth.

“Oh, Lordy,” said Hannah with a heavy sigh. “
That
was mature. Never mind, you two deserve being alone.” She stood and returned to the coffee bar.

Donna sulked into her coffee cup, wondering why being alone sounded so wrong right now.

Chapter 6

Mark stomped back and forth on the sidewalk in front of Donna's house. His feet pounded so hard his heels began to hurt from the impact.

That woman refused to help him and it was out of spite, pure and simple. She hated him and everything he was for some unfathomable reason.

He had even let her in his shop, his own private space, and she wouldn't listen to reason. She never listened. The wily hag had ruined his life from the get go.

His feet abruptly halted at that thought. “That's a damn lie,” he growled to himself. “You did it to yourself, you fool.”

He sucked in the cool autumn air and looked at the dim sunset. Donna had certainly done her part to keep the feud going, but Mark had been the catalyst more often than not.

Memories of pranks played at Donna's expense, of cruel words and harsh jokes, filled his mind. In his attempt at keeping her away from him, he'd made a point of hurting her at every turn.

The honest part of his mind wouldn't buy it.
Who are you kidding, Lewis?
Your whole life has been wrapped around Donna's, and you wanted it that way
.

It was high time he grew up and made up for his past behavior. Or at least, made a semblance of peace between the two of them.

He sucked in one more lungful of air and marched up Donna's walkway and onto her porch. He raised his tight fist to knock on her door.

A floorboard squeaked, and the door flew open. Donna stood in her doorway brandishing a baseball bat. She pointed it at Mark's chest. “What.”

It wasn't even a question.

Damn, she must have seen me
. Mark shoved his hands in his pockets to hide how tightly he had them clenched.

It had been five years since he'd been to this home, and without John here to create a buffer between the two of them, this could go very badly indeed. He eyed the baseball bat and cleared his throat.

“I know you don't want to help me, but the town wants us to work together.” He'd wanted his voice to be smooth and calm, but it squeaked at the end.

“The town?” asked Donna with a raised eyebrow.

“Well, mostly just Chief Michaels and Cory.”

“Because you and I are the most likely to withstand mind control devices?” Donna's voice dripped with sarcasm.

Mark looked at her and his mouth twitched into a grin. “Yeah, because of that.”

“Sure. Makes perfect sense.”

Donna didn't move for a moment, and Mark realized he'd made a terrible mistake in coming here. He should have known better. The last time he tried to be nice to her, it backfired. Everything backfired when it came to Donna.

Then, Donna put the baseball bat down and her mouth twitched into a smile, too. “Well, if I could withstand you, I can handle anything.” She leaned against the doorframe. “So, to end this insanity, we need to join it?”

“Yeah.” Mark said with a shrug. He hoped it came off as nonchalant. “They want us to find out if sheep or aliens or maybe even supremacists are involved.”

“Ah.” Donna rubbed her temple.

“They just want to know what's really happening at the Gilbertson's place. Well, technically, they'd like to know if any of the Gilbertsons are sleeping with each other—like one of them polygamist things—or if livestock or aliens are involved in any way, especially with the sex thing. I figure the best way to do that is for us to go up and ask the Gilbertsons.”

Donna stood there blinking at him, so he quickly continued. “My money's on one of them cable television programs. Either way, this town won't go back to normal until it knows what's up at that ranch. They'll only believe me if I take you. Otherwise, I might be dissected, just like you said.”

“Do you know how crazy you sound right now?”

Mark grimaced. He knew exactly how insane his plan was, but he had no other options. “I figure the best thing we can do is just go talk to the family and get things out in the open. I'm tired of all these rumors. It's awkward.”

“And asking a sweet farming family if they're having alien sex or plotting the end of civilization by using sheep is less awkward?” Donna asked incredulously.

“That's why I need you to help,” said Mark as he pulled his coat closed to keep out the wind. “They aren't doing any of those things, and it will take both of us to convince the town that nothing is going on. Well, that and the mind control thing.” He chuckled despite himself.

Donna eyed him warily for a moment and then shrugged her shoulders and opened the door wide to let him in.

Mark stood there, his knees frozen and locked in place, just as they were when he was a teen.

“I'm not holding this door all day,” said Donna.

Mark tried to convince his legs to move into her house, but he only managed to lurch forward a step.

“If you want to talk to me, you need to do it inside my house. I'm getting cold.” A smile played on her lips.

Mark swallowed and forced his knees to unlock. He wasn't a teen any longer, and her house wasn't a forbidden zone. He nodded to Donna and walked in with all the finesse of an uncoordinated zombie.

The home brought back a flood of memories. Nothing much had changed at first glance, other than the addition of several burgundy floral arrangements scattered around the room. It remained the home of a small-town pastor, threadbare but well kept, though it did smell different, like sweet spices.

No, it felt different. The memories belonged here, but John's influence no longer lingered in the room.

“It's changed,” he said.

This was Donna's home now, and that realization excited him.
Weird.

“Only a little,” Donna said.

He nodded and for a long moment neither of them moved.

“I, uh, have coffee going. Decaf,” said Donna with an apologetic shrug. She reached out her hand. “Can I take your coat?”

Mark pulled off his jacket, feeling a bit naked without it.

“Coffee's good,” he said. He'd been in this home a thousand times as John and Donna raised their little family. The kids called him Uncle Mark. Why should he feel so uncomfortable here?

But the feeling of a boy trapped in a girl's bathroom remained. He looked around for something, anything, to occupy his time. Finally, his eyes caught the family pictures that lined the old bookcase where John had kept his theology books. The photos, each one in its own frame, cluttered every shelf. The top two shelves were lined with pictures he hadn't seen yet.

“When did this all happen?” he asked. The faces in front of him were of young men and women, weddings, and babies. The children he'd once played with were nowhere to be seen.

“While I was busy grieving,” answered Donna. She handed him a cup and motioned for him to sit on the old sofa.

“You didn't get rid of it?” Mark asked with a chuckle as he sat down to the familiar tune of squeaking springs.

“I want to. You have no idea how much I want to toss it, but there's always something else I need more.”

Mark knew that. Donna's job as a school lunch lady didn't pay much and her husband's life insurance was a pittance. Money was tight, just as it had always been.

“So what's your plan?” Donna asked, pulling him back into the present.

“I want to call them and see if we can come over and talk. Then, we can approach the farm with caution, maybe wear our hunting camo and do a little spying.”

Donna's eyes narrowed.

“Just in case,” he added again. “Best to be safe.”

“Of course. Because overweight sheep farmers just
might
be aliens.”

Mark cleared his throat and tried to ignore Donna's tone.

“No one is quite sure what's going on up there. I don't think the Gilbertsons are a threat, but we can't be sure until we go look. A little sneakiness is a good thing in this case.”

“I'm not sure I want to know,” said Donna. “And I'm pretty sure I don't want to go sneaking through the woods in hunting gear to find out.”

Mark looked down into his cup. “I want to know,” he admitted. He was more than curious. “We can go and make sure it's safe before we drive up and ask 'em ourselves.”

“You want us to drive over there, knock on the door, and ask the family if they are secretly aliens? Seriously?”

“We could take cookies. That might soften the blow.”

Donna choked on her coffee.

“Look, the Gilbertsons may be odd, but they're honest people, and they'll answer us honestly. Then we can put this whole damn thing behind us. This town is acting like one of those soap operas—not that I've ever seen one, mind you—and I for one am tired of it.”

Mark watched Donna as she sipped her coffee. He'd forgotten how beautiful she was.

Finally, she nodded. “Okay, we can go Saturday afternoon.”

“We might want the cover of darkness.”

“No, we won't. That's creepy,” said Donna. “Besides, I don't like being in the woods at night.”

Mark took a gulp of coffee, not quite believing she'd agreed to go with him. They sat in silence for a few moments as Mark wondered how to tactfully ask the Gilbertsons about the possibility of polygamy and sheep sex. Nothing good came to mind.

His eyes wandered until they came to rest on the picture of a newborn.

“Life does go on, doesn't it?” he said.

Without warning, Donna got up and darted into the small extra bedroom. When she returned, she had a photo album in her hands.

“I keep forgetting to give this to you.” She unceremoniously shoved the book into his hands.

Mark looked at the decorated album and slowly opened it. The pages were filled with memories. From their high school football team to the christening of the last grand baby, each page was filled with pictures, newspaper clippings, and odd memorabilia. Donna's strong handwriting labeled and dated each entry, as well as narrated some of the more interesting pages.

She'd done it for him. His hands shook as he turned the pages.

After a while, he closed the book and looked at her. He needed to say something, but a lump blocked his windpipe, so instead he gulped down his cold coffee in an attempt to rid himself of the lump.

Donna snatched the cup from him and went to the kitchen to refill it.

“Glad you like it.” Her voice shook. She returned and handed him a steaming cup. They sat in silence again, gulping coffee and staring at walls.

“Why'd you hit me?” Donna finally asked.

“What?”

“That day we played together. Why did you hit me?” she asked again. This time she turned and looked right at him with accusing eyes.

“Well, because you kissed me and I was six. I was supposed to hit you.”

“But I was just showing you that I liked you.”

Mark knew enough to proceed with great caution. “I liked you, too, but you kissed me in front of my friends. That's the worst thing you could possibly do to a six year old. I had to hit you. If I didn't, I would've been a sissy in their eyes.”

“Oh.” Donna sipped from her empty cup. “Did you really like me?”

Mark cleared his throat. Twice. This conversation was not one he ever wanted to have. He wondered why he couldn't just leave her alone. But the truth was that he simply couldn't. Not since he'd first hit her and run. From that day on, he'd wanted to be near her, and she'd done everything to stay away.

Then she'd married his best friend.

“I liked you since the first day of kindergarten when we met,” he said, looking intently into his own empty cup. “I never stopped liking you, even when I hated you. You were mean to me, and I never understood why. I finally gave up, and decided to let you go, but then you married my best friend and I couldn't get away from you.” He realized he was sweating in the cool house. He took a few deep breaths to still his racing heart. He slid a glance at Donna, who looked at him with wide eyes.

Well, so long as I feel like I'm in hell
, he thought.

“I never stopped liking you, though. No one ever compared to you. I watched you marry John, raise a family and make a life, and I always thought you were incredible at it. Since I couldn't have you as my own, I just admired you from a distance.” Mark was surprised at the steadiness of his voice.

“I liked you, too. A lot.”

“Okay.”

“I have some apple muffins I made. Would you like one?”

“Yes, please.”

Donna got up and scurried into the kitchen, and Mark gasped for air that seemed to have grown too thin in the room. For the first time in a long time, Mark felt lighthearted.

He looked around the familiar room, and an idea began tugging at him again. He knew exactly how to say thank you for Donna's gift.

Donna came in carrying a tray and he smiled at her. It felt strange.

“So, how are the kids?” Mark asked. He was grasping at conversational straws, but he didn't care.

“Haley just had a little one.” She nodded at the latest photo of the newborn. “And Jack's wife just found out she's pregnant.”