Nothing but Trouble (21 page)

No, she never let expectations get in the way, because, well, why bother?

But she did know she didn’t want to be the girl hiding in the storage closet under the cover of darkness, waiting to be discovered, forever labeled trouble.

No more supersleuthing for her.

Her mother wore a strange look. “PJ? Did you hear what I said?”

“Hah.”

“It’s not a joke, PJ. I’m serious. I don’t think she’s going to want to see a goat in her backyard. And it’s a good thing it’s Saturday, or Davy would be missing school.”

Davy looked up and, before PJ could stop him, spilled the beans . . . or muffin, as it were. “I don’t go to school. I stay home with Baba!” He slid off PJ’s lap, and it took everything inside PJ not to run away with him. She swallowed and looked down at the last of her muffin.

“He doesn’t go to school?”

“Listen, Mom, don’t you think it’s a little
stressful
for a four-year-old to go to summer preschool?”

“Not if he wants to get into
 
—”

“The best colleges, I know.”

“I was going to say private kindergarten, but yes, Connie intends for him to have the best start he can under the circumstances.” She sighed and shook her head. “Oh, PJ
 
—”

“What have I done, I know.” She stood. “I’m sorry, Mom. I didn’t mean to make a mess of things. It just happened. I think Connie can probably get him back into Fellows
 
—at least I hope so. Until then, Davy and I have an appointment at the beach.”

She moved to follow him from the room, turned back, and tapped the crossword. “
Hah.
A three-letter word for an expression of surprise.”

Her mother looked down. “I thought it was
aha
.”

PJ shook her head. “No, that would be a three-letter word for ‘I knew you’d mess this up.’”

Her mother said nothing as she left the room.

* * *

They didn’t end up at the beach. PJ wasn’t sure why, but she couldn’t go there, despite the sun trumpeting above, announcing a day created for swimming and sand castles.

Instead she and Davy drove into the city to the Mall of America, parking in the cool cement structure, aware that she had about seven dollars to her name. But she didn’t have to buy anything
 
—just wander.

Davy slid out of the backseat. “LEGO land!”

So he’d been here before. They found the entrance, and the cool air whisked off the morning’s heat. She realized as she watched neatly attired, buggy-pushing mothers that she’d come dressed in her yoga pants, a T-shirt, and flip-flops, but with Davy pulling her toward the sound of waterfalls and rides and the lure of ice cream and chocolate cookies, she didn’t have to watch their expressions.

Not that she thought she might live up to any expectations anyway.

Davy ran to the edge of the second-floor balcony and stood on tiptoe, poking his nose over the rail. “Wow. It’s big.”

She wasn’t sure if he meant the park or the Ferris wheel or the roller coaster, all contained in the center of a three-story mall, but she came up behind him and lifted him for a better view. “Yep.”

“Can I get a cookie?”

They both needed a cookie.

PJ fished around in her purse and discovered two extra dollars in change. She bought them a chocolate chip cookie each and a carton of milk for Davy, cutting her dollar supply down
to change. They sat and watched moms and dads load their children onto kiddie rides.

“I’m sorry I don’t have enough money to put you on a ride, kiddo.”

Chocolate piled in the corners of Davy’s mouth and he wore a milk mustache. “That’s okay. I got sick last time.” He grinned at her, and she resisted the urge to wipe his face.

“PJ!”

She heard her name but couldn’t believe it when she turned and spied Maxine Hudson, gripping tight to a twin with each hand as they dragged her toward their bench. She finally let them go, and Daniel and Felicia scampered to Davy.

“So you decided to join us. How are you doing?” Maxine sat down next to PJ on the bench.

Maxine didn’t really want an answer to that, did she?

How PJ wanted to figure out how to help Jack or sort out anything on her list of messes, but she’d run out of ideas. And time.

Davy had finished his cookie, so PJ grabbed a napkin and wrestled him clean.

Maxine pulled out a ride ticket. “Do you guys want to ride the kiddie coaster?”

Davy began to jump, clapping along with Daniel and Felicia.

“Oh, Maxine, we don’t have a ticket
 
—”

“I have plenty of ride points.”

PJ glanced at Davy, remembering his comment about getting sick. Maybe he’d been exaggerating. “How fast does the coaster go?”

Maxine was already halfway there, her children streaking ahead. “Not fast. It’s for kids.”

Right. PJ followed behind, watching the crew climb aboard. Davy strapped in and waved, beaming.

Thankfully, Felicia and Daniel were sitting behind him.

Or maybe that was worse.

“Keep your mouth closed!” she hollered and then saw parents glance at her. She shrugged. “He . . . screams pretty loud.”

Maxine came over to join her. “Trudi and Jack were in court yesterday for his arraignment.”

“I know.” She’d called Trudi this morning before the flogging at her mother’s house and gotten a speedy, tense update.

“Jack didn’t confess, did he?” Maxine asked.

“No. But they can’t get the process of not guilty going until they indict him.”

“What would make Jack kill someone?”

PJ gave her a sharp look. Maxine was shaking her head, looking at the kids, waving at them as the ride swished past. “You don’t think it’s true, do you?” PJ asked.

“I don’t know. But they don’t have anyone else in custody.”

PJ leaned her hip against the rough-hewn wooden rail, arms folded. “I’ve hunted down a few leads, but they all seem to dead-end.” She didn’t mention that she’d gone so far as to break the law. “But I can’t escape the voice inside that tells me he’s innocent.”

“Not every voice is one you should listen to
 
—uh-oh!”

PJ turned. “Oh! Davy, no!”

The crowd around her moaned as Davy unloaded his snack on the floor of the ride.

Maybe there were some voices she
should
listen to.

Maxine was a trouper, and they camped out in the ladies’ bathroom while PJ washed Davy’s shorts and top in the sink
with some sanitizer gel she had in her purse, then blew them dry. Maxine even bought Davy a 7UP to calm his stomach.

PJ ducked her head when a couple fellow mothers came in and cast them a dark look.

Maxine held up her hands in a sort of surrender. “Cookies, ladies. The kid tossed his cookies.”

PJ laughed.

“So, how did you like our church?” Maxine held Felicia on her lap and they paged through a picture book she’d dug out of her purse. PJ made a mental note to add Horton to her wannabe mommy bag.

Except she wasn’t going to be “Mommy” for much longer. She looked at Davy, and something inside her weighed heavy.

“I liked the praise and worship, and your pastor seems down-to-earth. Gotta like a guy who preaches in jeans and a polo shirt.”

Maxine turned the page, leaning over to read, glancing up at PJ to nod. “We’ve been going there for about five years.”

PJ tested the shirt
 
—it felt dry enough. She wiggled it over Davy’s head. He was already wearing his dry shorts. “I liked the sermon. I can relate to Peter. He was a mess, had more passion than brains, and still managed to become something with God.”

Maxine finished the story, letting her daughter page through the book. “He had brains, just needed direction. I think that’s one reason Christ gave him a different name. We’ll be studying Peter all summer long. Come back to tomorrow’s services
 
—Davy can come home with us for that playdate after church, and maybe we can even make it an overnighter.”

PJ washed her hands one more time, touched by Maxine’s offer, and followed her out of the bathroom. Maxine’s kids begged for another round of rides, but PJ gave Davy a quick shake of her head before he could suggest anything. Fat tears rimmed his eyes.

PJ crouched next to him. “I’m sorry, pal. That’s just the way it is. You’ll get sick.”

Maxine took out her ride card, looked at the points, then leaned down, putting her hands on her knees. “Your auntie loves you. You need to trust that when she says no, it’s for your good, Davy. Not everyone can ride the roller coaster. But I’ll bet you could ride that Ferris wheel.” She handed PJ her ticket. “Finish this one off. We’ll get another.”

“No
 
—really.” PJ made to hand it back, still hearing Maxine’s words:
“Your auntie loves you.”

She did love Davy. It took her breath away, really, how much she wanted him to be whole and happy and at peace. To shake free of his fears and nightmares, the terror inside that had made him kick her instead of accept her hug.

“No, really,” Maxine said, closing PJ’s hand around it. “Being a good parent
 
—or aunt
 
—isn’t about being perfect. It’s about making him know you love him, protecting him, and seeing in him more than what he sees.”

PJ looked at Davy now, rumpled in his bathroom-dried clothes, climbing a bench, jumping from it. Reckless, headstrong, sometimes afraid. Armed with his own dreams and now ready to love her back if she just opened her arms.

Maybe she already knew this child. Maybe she saw him in the mirror every day.

“By the way
 
—” Maxine snared her twins one by one
 
—
“I hope Jack is innocent. Maybe he just needs someone to believe in him, to keep looking harder and with a different perspective. Someone who won’t give up.” She glanced at Davy, then winked at PJ and pulled her kids over to the bumper cars.

Thwump!

PJ heard her own gasp of pain and doubled over as she clawed her way out of sleep.

Thwump!
“Auntie PJ, wake up!”

She covered her head, then her stomach, not sure which was more vulnerable as she focused on her attacker. Sunlight streamed in like fingers through the shuttered windows, reaching into her day. Davy stood at the edge of the bed, his dark hair sticking straight up from the bath she’d given him last night, hands on his hips, grinning.

Better than an alarm clock.

“Are we going to go to church?”

Church.

She sat up. Glanced at the clock.

A smile found her, despite the early cast of morning as Davy
climbed on the bed and bounced on the covers. “I wanna go to church.”

She scrolled back to last week, wondering at his fascination, and remembered that he’d scored a candy bar from the storehouse in her bag. Yeah, she’d go to church for a candy bar too.

She sank back into the pillow. “Are you sure, little man?”

“Daniel and Felicia will be there.”

Oh yeah. And Maxine. And most importantly, it was probably the one right thing she could do for Davy.

“Get dressed, pal.”

She climbed out of bed and peered out the window, her spirit rising at the sight of Billy on his feet in the yard. However, the smell that drifted toward her watered her eyes.

Connie, and probably all her neighbors, would ban her from the city limits.

Boris moved into her view, bringing the goat a bucket of grain, petting it, cooing. PJ wanted to pump the air with victory. She’d fooled him.

She should probably be ashamed of that, but she couldn’t help it. In fact, maybe she would ride the winning streak and today attempt to fit together the pieces of the puzzle surrounding Ernie’s murder. The truth felt just beyond her fingers.

If only she could get her hands on that list Jeremy had scored from the country club break-in
.
But she hadn’t a clue how to track down Jeremy.

She tossed through her clothes and pulled out a pair of jeans and a pink tee. If the pastor could wear jeans, so could she.

She showered, dabbed on some makeup, and met Davy downstairs.

He wore the suit that Connie had purchased for the wedding. A regular dapper young man. “Want some breakfast?”

“I ate.”

On closer inspection, she spied the trail of chocolate Pop-Tart down his white shirt. She wiped his mouth with a paper towel and raced him out to the Bug.

Music streamed from the open doors of the praise and worship center as they parked. Davy jumped out and charged the doors. She caught Maxine waving from across the parking lot.

“Davy’s sure looking happy today.” Inside, her son intercepted Davy in a headlock and they tussled, scattering conversations in front of the welcome booth. “Recovered from yesterday?”

“Just a little.” Seeing Davy laugh and wrestle nudged PJ’s spirit further upward. She snagged him and grabbed a bulletin from one of the ushers.

“Sit with us, PJ.” Maxine wound her way through the crowd to a dark-skinned man waving to them from a wheelchair near the front. “My husband comes early for prayer,” she said, as if explaining why they weren’t together.

Her husband was in a wheelchair? He seemed older, despite his dark brown hair and obviously strong arms. Suddenly it came back to her
 
—Maxine’s contemplative, even distant, look at the beach. Did she struggle with her husband’s disability? She seemed such a refined, relaxed picture of a put-together woman.

Then again, PJ more than most knew that what you see isn’t always what you get.

“Ethan, this is PJ, Trudi’s friend. PJ, my husband, Ethan.” Maxine held the twins back for PJ to scoot in.

He greeted PJ with a smile and a handshake. “Glad to meet you.” She hid her surprise at his British accent.

She slid into the pew, bookended Davy, the twins, then Maxine and Ethan. Praise songs had already begun and worshipers filtered in, some clapping, others chatting. The fresh music found her frayed ends, and before long, she could sense the not-so-absent PJ, the one she seemed to have forgotten during the last week, rising again to the surface.

Maybe she wasn’t lost. Just buried under a habitual sense of shame.

She raised her arms and sang, almost losing herself in praise, when she noticed someone else ahead of her doing the same. A man with curly dark hair, strong arms, dressed in khakis and a white polo, just a hint of a bright red and blue Celtic tattoo showing, all cleaned up and cultured.

Jeremy.

Shame ran to her cheeks when she realized by the time the sermon started, she’d practically memorized the back of Jeremy’s head, wondering how long he had before his hair thinned completely. And what his tattoo meant, and if he’d seen hers
 
—how could he, and would she want him to, and wouldn’t that bring up a lot of questions that maybe she didn’t want to discuss
 
—and if he’d surprise her with another pizza today, and most of all, if he still had that list of suspects on him.

She made such a fine Christian. She flipped her Bible open and tried to catch up.

“Where are we?” she mouthed to Maxine.

Maxine smiled and showed her the Bible. “Same one as last week. First Peter.”

She ran her finger down the passage. Oh yes, the bit about being chosen by God and changed by Him. The one that made her believe that she might even be able to help people. Do some
good
in Kellogg.

She wondered if it was safe to listen to the sermon.

The pastor was warming into his preaching. “I always liked Peter, the rough disciple, the one who always got it wrong. The guy who chopped off the soldier’s ear, who panicked and offered to make a tent for Jesus when he saw Him transfigured. I probably would have done the same thing. I relate to his fear when he told Jesus he’d never leave Him, then hours later denied he knew Him. Peter was so desperate for Jesus’ love, His attention. I wonder if it was hard to see it so easily fall upon John, to hear Jesus call him the Beloved One.”

No, not safe at all. The pastor’s words had the power to scour up old wounds. She swallowed the emotions away.

“Peter just had to accept who he was to Jesus. Not the beloved. But the rabble-rouser.”

PJ looked down at her Bible, wishing she could slink out of the pew.

“Yet to Peter, the troublemaker, Jesus gave the responsibility of feeding the sheep, taking care of the people of the church. While John saw visions of glory, Peter fought for the truth at home among his Jewish friends, neighbors, and relatives.”

PJ glanced up just in time to see the pastor come out from behind the pulpit. Was he looking at her?

“He might have denied Christ, but that day when Jesus offered him forgiveness, Peter finally heard the truth
 
—that Jesus loved him despite his flaws. That God would do great things through him, if he was obedient. All Peter had to do
was surrender. He gave everything completely to God
 
—his future and his reputation and his dreams. And that’s when God took over and did amazing things in Peter’s life. And He’ll do that in your life.”

Surrender.
She was never very good at that word. It felt mostly like defeat. Still, she gulped those words in and held them like her breath, hoping they would seep into her soul.

A half hour later, PJ cut through the crowd, dodging blockers like a fullback, zeroing in on Jeremy, who held a cup of coffee while reading the list of activities on the bulletin board. PJ had Davy by the paw; he was working on a lollipop Maxine had passed down the pew during the sermon.

“Are you stalking me?”

Jeremy seemed genuinely surprised to see her. “Why, should I be?”

There he went again, being mysterious. And maybe even impressive
 
—who would have thought Jeremy Kane attended church?

He directed his gaze at Davy. “Hey there, pal. That looks good.”

“Grape.” Davy held up the dripping sucker. His hand was permanently glued to the stick.

“Yum.” Jeremy said, sounding halfway believable. “And to answer your question, PJ, no, I’m not stalking you. I saw the church on one of my deliveries and thought I’d check it out. I’m glad I ran into you. I went by your house yesterday.”

Really? While she was moping at the Mall of America?

“I was relieved to see the goat still lived.”

“Shh!” PJ shot her gaze to Davy, then gave Jeremy the hush-or-I’ll-have-to-hurt-you look.

“The secrets you keep.”

“I’m trying to save lives here.”

“Of course. Well, I checked out our list of suspects and wanted to report in.”

Perhaps she’d forgive him for making her feel like a burglar. Well, maybe not so soon. “So? What did you find out?”

“They all have airtight alibis. Your banker was at a meeting
 
—confirmed. The three others
 
—an accountant, a CEO, and a pharmacist
 
—again, all confirmed alibis.”

“How did you
 
—?”

“I have my ways.”

That was all, accompanied by a sharp tone. Clearly he had no intention of letting her in on his methods. She just hoped that none of them included something dark and sinister. “Well, you’re a regular PI, aren’t you?”

He still didn’t share; instead his eyes twinkled. “I don’t suppose you’d like to go on a picnic with me today, would you? It’d be a great day to swim.” He put a hand on Davy’s head. “We can bring Drippy here with us.”

Drippy. She would reluctantly admit that was sorta cute. “Actually, Davy is invited to the Hudsons’ for lunch and an afternoon of play.”

Jeremy’s smile was slow and sweet. “That’s perfect.”

Uh-oh. It was?

Her face must have commented, for he followed with “It can just be you and me.”

“You and me?”

He looked over his shoulder
 
—a furtive look by her standards. “The crime-fighting duo.”

She wanted to smile, to laugh, but her recent failures felt too
fresh, tasted too sour. She managed a wry expression. “Yeah. Maybe that’s not a good idea. I’m kind of tired of causing trouble.”

He considered her a long moment. “It’s way too late for that. Come out with me. We’ll keep our conversation limited to murder and mayhem.”

It was the way he cocked his head, raised his eyebrows at her, as if he meant it, as if it wasn’t at all horrible to be causing him a little trouble, that made her say yes. Either that or again her mouth had ventured out on its own, without a care to consequences.

PJ found Maxine standing next to Ethan, one hand on his shoulder as they talked to the pastor.

Maxine broke away from the conversation. “What a great sermon, huh?” She took hold of Davy’s nonsticky hand. “I love the idea of God doing something through me. Despite my flaws.”

Yes. Because more than anything, PJ longed for some sort of hope that at the end of all this, there would be a better, stronger PJ, a registered difference that showed from taking the road less traveled.

“Ready, Davy?”

PJ gave Davy a hug. “Have fun, little man. I’ll pick you up tonight.”

To her shock, Davy popped her a kiss.

“Thanks, Maxine. Don’t forget he’s allergic to peanuts, okay?” Hah! She remembered.

“We’ll be fine. Take your time.”

PJ searched briefly for Jeremy, then headed out to the parking lot. He leaned against her VW, ankles crossed, wearing a
pair of black sunglasses, watching her. She couldn’t place his look, and the fact that he knew what car she drove niggled inside her.

Still, she couldn’t help but appreciate the way he stood out, the sun upon him like a halo. “I’m gathering that you want to take my car.”

“We can take the pizzamobile if you want.”

“Hop in.”

She rolled down the window and headed toward Connie’s so she could change. The grill from Sunsets tempted her as they drove by, and she cast a longing look at Hal’s Pizzeria, to Jeremy’s laughter.

“Let’s pick up some chicken from the deli,” he suggested.

They breezed into the Red Owl Grocery Store and loaded up on fried chicken, potato salad, crusty French bread, and Concord grapes, as well as bottled root beer. PJ picked up some ice while Jeremy loaded the lot into her trunk.

At the house, PJ located a picnic blanket in Connie’s garage, a cooler, and a basket. Nothing like outfitting her own date. While she changed into shorts, Jeremy packed the basket, cooling the root beers.

She couldn’t dismiss the feeling that he’d already moved into her life. Nor the chaser that said maybe she liked it.

They drove through Kellogg, out to the highway, and toward the new park.

Jeremy hung his elbow out the window, the wind running through his short dark hair. “Today’s sermon made me think of you.”

It did? “What part?”

“The alien part.”

“Oh, that’s nice, Jeremy. Are you trying to win friends and influence people?” Never mind that she’d always sort of thought of herself as an alien. She didn’t need Jeremy pointing it out.

“Calm down, Princess
 
—”

“Ixnay on the Princess. Especially when I’m driving.”

“Fine. But I liked what the pastor said about sanctification working out in life what is already true inside us.”

“Which is?”

“That we’re not the same people we were. We’re completely new. But so many of us walk around with the same perspective as we did when we were lost. Wondering where we fit in. What a new creation looks like.”

PJ couldn’t look at him. Somehow, he’d climbed inside her soul and done some poking around. “But how does that remind you of me?”

“I think that’s the reason you keep changing jobs. You said you don’t know what skin you belong in, what identity you are. But maybe it’s a little bit of all of them. One second you’re Lawn Girl; the next you’re Goat Procurer; to me you’re Princess
 
—” Seeing her glare, he quickly added, “Just as an example. To Drippy you’re Auntie PJ. But the thing is, only God knows who you really are and who you’re becoming in Him. Maybe you just need to live on the outside who you are on the inside.”