Page 21 of Make Me Love You

“No. No, I guess not.” There was a note of resignation in her voice that he didn’t understand. Wasn’t this what she wanted?

He couldn’t ask her, because she was already turning away, getting into her truck, slamming the door behind her with a finality that reverberated in his soul.

It wasn’t lost on him that someone else was always doing the leaving.

He was the one left behind.

***

Eli was nearly at North Star Farm when he got the call.

“We got the Naloxone in,” Chrissy Davis said. “You want to swing by the clinic and get it?”

“I’ll be there in twenty,” he said, already making the U-turn. Finally.

Eight years ago, Eli would have said the biggest part of his job was handling disturbances, usually due to meth, and usually ending in an arrest. Now, the biggest part of his job was still disturbances, usually due to opioids, possibly ending in a night at the Hart’s Ridge Free Health Clinic, but usually recuperating at home. He had Chrissy to thank for that.

The Health Clinic was one of the best things that had happened to Hart’s Ridge, but it came at a price. Hart’s Ridge had to make a choice: It could expand the two-bed jail to thirty beds, with a corresponding increase in police officers, or it could build a health clinic. It couldn’t afford both. Hart’s Ridge, in Eli’s opinion, made the right choice, but it meant that technically, the Hart’s Ridge Police Department no longer existed. Eli was an officer for the Colby County Department, contracted to Hart’s Ridge along with two part-time officers.

The change in employer hadn’t changed his job much at all, though. Except he made fewer arrests. It turned out he was much less likely to arrest a person for a non-violent crime when he didn’t have a place to keep them.

Twenty minutes later he pulled into the parking lot. Chrissy was outside waiting for him with a big box and a clipboard.

“Hey, there,” he said. “What have we got?”

“Twenty kits total. Fifteen of the nasal sprays, five of the injections.” She gave him an apologetic look. “I know you said people are kind of squeamish about using the needles, but that was the best we could do.”

“No worries. I’ll take what I can get.”

“Great. I’ll need your signature here.” She handed him the clipboard.

“Sure thing.” He signed his name with a flourish, handed it back to her, and scooped up the box. “Thanks again, Chrissy.”

She shook her head. “You don’t have to thank me. You know we wouldn’t be here without you.”

“You would have found a way.” He believed that. Chrissy put her heart and soul into the health center.

After dropping the box in the passenger seat, he gave her a wave. He couldn’t stand around all afternoon talking when he had deliveries to make.

An hour later he was down seven kits. That was enough, for now. It would be six months before Chrissy ordered another box, so this would have to last.

He turned down Main Street for one last check. His shift was over, but that didn’t mean much since he was always on call. He slowed down, noticing a half-dozen men had congregated outside the credit union. It was probably nothing—he recognized them all as fairly staid community members—but he was curious, all the same. He pulled over and rolled down the window.

“What’s going on?”

Mr. Elwood, the manager of the credit union, leaned down and peered in the window. “That’s a good question, officer, and the truth is, we don’t actually know.”

“Sure, we do,” another voice protested. “Emma Andrews has lost her mind, that’s what’s going on.”

He was out of the car in a flash. “What do you mean?”

“See for yourself.” Mr. Elwood jerked his head to indicate across the street. “She’s scrubbing the damn lamp post. Been doing that all afternoon, in fact, starting at the south end of the street. Now, I wouldn’t go so far as to say she’s lost her mind, but it is peculiar.”

Eli watched as Emma positioned the ladder and climbed up. Steadying herself with one hand braced on the post, she scrubbed hard with a wire brush. After a minute, she paused. Her head rolled in a tired circle and she rubbed the spot where her neck met her shoulder. Then she scrubbed some more.

“Is that what she thinks mayors do? Scrub lamp posts?” someone said, hooting with laughter. “Poor girl is in over her head.”

Eli felt a rush of annoyance. “She’s not just scrubbing them. She’s sanding them. Getting them ready for painting. Then maybe hang some flower baskets. Make them look nice.”

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