Page 24 of Snow River

“Why not?I got it for you.Christmas bonus, if you want to think of it that way.”He opened the mini-fridge behind the bar and pulled out a gallon of milk.“Mocha latte with sprinkles, how does that sound?”

“You got sprinkles too?”

“They’re still in the truck.But yeah.I got sprinkles.I didn’t know if you wanted the basic chocolate or the ones with all the colors, so I got both.”

“Bear.”Overcome, she could barely get his name out without tears coming to her eyes.“This is the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me.And that’s including all my boyfriends.”

His expression closed down at her mention of boyfriends.She kicked herself.Way to ruin the moment.

“Not that there’s been many of those, because there hasn’t.I’ve always been a little too weird for most guys.They think I’m going to be a pet kitten but then they don’t like it when I can’t sleep so I work all night on refinishing a dresser or something.Or I let slip some little comment about how they’re going to get promoted, and then their boss has a heart attack and he thinksImade it happen.And yes, those are real examples.I’m not a very good girlfriend at all.I’ve never had what you would call a successful relationship.”

Sweet heavens, could she stop talking?How embarrassing, especially after he’d been so thoughtful.Maybe it wasbecausehe’d been so thoughtful.She needed him to know exactly who he was being so nice to.Hopefully Bear would do his usual thing and grunt and end the conversation and go chop wood or something.

No such luck.

“What’s successful?”he asked.

“Well…good question.Lasts a long time?Involves marriage?”

“Eve Dotterkind and Bennie Thomas never got married.Happiest couple in town.”

“Commitment, then.When you both know that you’re in it for good, flaws and all.A safe space that also sets you free.”

He looked at her for a long moment, during which she lost track of where they were and even what day it was.Time drifted sideways under his dark gaze.Winter?Summer?Who knew?“Huh,” he finally said.

The grunt.There it was.

It brought her back to earth like a pin bursting a balloon.Sometimes the things she said made sense to her, but not to anyone else.How could something keep you safe yet also set you free?Total contradiction.Maybe that was her fantasy wishful thinking about relationships.

She jumped at the sound of The Fang’s front door squeaking open.So did Bear.

“Gotta oil that damn hinge,” he grumbled.He dragged a hand through his hair.He seemed rattled.Was there something she’d said that unnerved him?She should know better than to talk about relationships with Bear.He never spoke of such things.

Sure, she’d heard rumors about women he’d been involved with.Someone had mentioned a dispatcher in Blackbear who she was very curious about.

“Morning, fellow humans.”The scratchy voice of their first customer of the day belonged to Oil Can Jones, so called because he drove an ancient Mercedes that he’d converted to run on vegetable oil, and would show up anywhere, anytime to collect anyone’s used cooking oil.He always had an entourage of sorts, fellow members of a loose hippie-like group they called the Community.Today two women were with him, a freckle-faced young woman holding a hula hoop, and an older woman, probably in her sixties, who wore a cowboy hat and a brightly colored poncho.

The two women sat down at a table and set up a travel Scrabble set.Were they planning to be here for a while?Lila had seen the younger woman at the swimming hole this past summer, but she didn’t recognize the older woman.Maybe she generally stayed at the Community instead of coming into town.

Oil Can approached the bar.“What’s the haps?Or should I say ‘hops’?”He caught sight of the espresso machine.“Would you look at that beauty!I call dibs on your used coffee grounds.Our wild roses will love them.”

Usually, Lila found Oil Can entertaining, but right now, she wished it was still just her and Bear talking.It felt like being interrupted in a story right when things were getting interesting.But, since it was her job and her boss was standing right next to her, she made an effort and summoned a smile.“What can I get you, Oil Can?”

“Something for the nerves.Woke up to a traumatic event at the Community.”

The Community was located in the former train station that had been the hub for the copper transported from the old mine to Blackbear.Oil Can and a rotating cast of musicians, cannabis growers, fire dancers and other wanderers had transformed it into a mostly livable space.They’d added extra boards for insulation and built a rocket stove for heat.The place generally emptied out by December, when it got too cold for most normal people, but sometimes Oil Can stuck around.

“What are you talking about?”Bear asked.He sounded just as irritated as Lila felt at the interruption.

“Someone broke in and made a mess.Poured blood all over the floor.Not real blood.Fake blood.Corn syrup, that’s what we deduced at our group meeting.”He stroked the braids in his blond beard.To add to his hippie vibe, he wore a striped knit hat in reggae colors.“Weird shit, man.Whoever did it wrote something with the syrup, but by the time we saw it, it was hard to tell what it said.”

“Did you take a picture?”Bear asked, sounding more intrigued than Lila had expected.All kinds of strange things happened at the Community.This was probably not even on the top ten list.

“Yeah, I posed with it.Do you think it says ‘rawhide’?That’s what I think.Candy Apple, she’s our new trimmer, she thinks it says ‘can’t hide.’”He dug out his phone, which was in a thick Otter neon-orange case, and handed it to Bear.

Bear squinted at it, then angled it toward Lila so she could see too.

The shot showed the interior of the old waiting room of the train station, which was now a communal space with cushions lined up against the walls.In the center of the floor was a pool of blood—or syrup—that had pooled on the floor and soaked into the weathered planks.Oil Can crouched next to it pretending to throw up.

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