Page 56 of Love & Other Disasters

“Are you all right?” he asked, when she came closer, her eyes were red-rimmed and puffy from crying. He wrapped his arms around her and kissed the top of her head, dirt flakes fluttered to the ground.

“Yes,” she whispered. “Thanks for coming to get us.” She stepped back.

“Of course.” He reached over and rubbed her arm, more mud flaked off at his touch. “What happened?”

Violet turned as Jill walked into the lobby, smiling. She too had a layer of mud covering her front, not her entire body, but she didn’t appear as haggard as Violet. When Violet turned her hair was a knotted mass hanging off the back of her head with leaves and a stick stuck in it. Violet had gotten the worst of it. And concern rose for his car upholstery.

“Good morning, cutie,” Jill said to Officer Young, who handed over her purse.

“Jill happened,” Violet grumbled, taking the plastic bag containing her cell phone, keys, and lip balm that Officer Young held out. Then, he handed over a laptop.

“The impound lot isn’t open yet,” Officer Young told Jill. “Here’s their address and number.”

“You impounded my car?” Jill asked, incredulous.

“I’ll help her arrange to get it later,” J.P. said, taking the information.

“You’re all set,” Officer Young said.

“Thanks,” J.P. replied. “Do you have plastic or a towel…something I can use to cover the car seat?”

Jill laughed, but Violet growled something about men, grabbed the key fob from his hand, and stomped out the door, dirt confetti following her. Like that old Peanuts character with a cloud of dirt surrounding him when he walked.

“She doesn’t have a sense of humor,” Jill said, strolling out after Violet. But that wasn’t true.

Officer Young laughed and shook his head. “Good luck, man. The reason we kept them this long was because I was afraid they’d kill each other.”

“Well, then I better find them.”

Jill was pulling on the door handle of his Mustang. “If you don’t open up,” she yelled. Violet had parked herself in the passenger’s seat and refused to let Jill inside.

“She’s being a brat,” Jill yelled and kept finagling the door handle, as he approached.

“Stop,” J.P. barked, and she stepped back from the car. He tapped on the glass, the doors unlocked, and he opened it. “No fighting,” he said, pointing at both of them. Jill huffed, but climbed into his backseat without a word.

He asked Jill for her address and plugged it into the GPS. Before he got to the interstate, he pulled into a drive-through and ordered breakfast, and more important, coffee. If the two of them ate and fell asleep, maybe he could get Jill home without all hell breaking loose in the car. Why did they looked like they’d been mud wrestling, and then picked up by the police for questioning in McEwen of all places? But from the officer’s warning about them being at each other’s throats, he wouldn’t bring it up.

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