Page 7 of Keep

“Dalton,” she sputtered. “WHAT are you doing?”

“Uh, well,” I started to explain when the side door to the house banged shut and the angry voice of Cord Gentry boomed in the darkness.

“Who the fuck is back there?”

“It’s me,” I said, waving my hand and feeling like a first class idiot. “It’s Dalton.”

I couldn’t see the expression on the face of Cami’s father. That was probably a good thing.

The door opened again and a woman emerged.

“What’s going on?” asked Saylor Gentry, Cami’s mother.

“Dalton’s here,” her husband grumbled.

“Where?”

“In the backyard.”

“Why?” Saylor asked.

“Hell if I know.”

I cleared my throat. “I just stopped by to say good night to Cami.”

“Most people ring the doorbell when they stop by,” Cord pointed out.

“Ah, yeah. I was trying not to disturb everyone.”

“Really? You failed.”

Cami and Cassie issued identical snorts of laughter. They were fraternal twins, differing in both looks and temperament. But their laughter always sounded the same.

“I’m really sorry,” I said, thinking I could hear the whistling sound of my stock plummeting by the second.

“Never mind,” laughed Saylor, pushing her husband back into the house. “We’ll see you tomorrow, Dalton. Oh, but watch out for my pots. They’re stacked up beside the gate.”

The door to the house closed.

“You didn’t watch out for the pots,” Cami sighed, observing the ceramic fragments.

“That’s too bad,” Cassie added. “You know, every few months she visits the plant nursery down the road and buys a batch of succulent cacti to fill them.”

“And they always die within a month,” Cami said.

Her sister sighed. “I’ve always been mystified how someone can manage to kill so much cactus here in the desert.”

Cami agreed. “If there’s a record for cactus slaughter I’m sure our darling mother has broken it.” She turned to me. “Dalton, why didn’t you just text to let me know you were here?”

I nudged the largest fragments aside with my shoe. “Call it a failed attempt at romantic spontaneity.”

“I wouldn’t say that.” Cami swung her legs around so they dangled from the low window ledge. “Come here.”

“If this is going to get mushy I’m closing the window,” Cassie warned.

Cami jumped from the window ledge and onto the patio. “It’s going to get mushy,” she told her sister. “And possibly pornographic.”

Cassie shut the window and closed the blinds while I stepped away from the mess I’d made of Saylor’s pottery.

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