Sanford Crow

CHAPTER 27

Mrs. Potter had put on a courteous smile, but Sanford could see the fear hiding in her sunken eyes. She poured coffee into his mug. Her eyes caught his and she instantly looked away. Beyond the fear, Sanford could see her guilt—guilt for having fear in the first place.

The last time she saw him the blood of his family had been splattered across his face. Now, that same face was in her kitchen again.

"Me too, please," Sadie said, holding her cup out for coffee.

"No, not you too," Sanford laughed. "Milk will be fine for this one if you have any, Mrs. Potter."

She nodded and smiled. Sanford felt his heart pounding in his chest and the anxiety kicking like a baby in the womb.

Why should I care what she thinks? Why should I care what any of them think?

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Potter. We should go." Sanford said as Mrs. Potter turned away to put the coffee back on the counter. His apology left her frozen. Sanford could see her elderly body shuddering. She turned her head towards him, her eyes tearing.

"No," she said, trembling, "I'm the one who's sorry."

She slowly moved towards him. Sanford could hear her hip cracking as she did. When she got next to him she put her arms around his shoulders and hugged him. Sadie wanted to laugh when she saw her father's expression as Mrs. Potter cradled his head in her bosom.

"I'm sorry for being awkward like this, it's just seeing you... was like... reliving it all. But you're the one who's really reliving it, aren't you? Being back here, I can't even imagine what you're going through."

He didn't know what to tell her. The truth would be too upsetting. What would happen if he told her he thought it was all happening again, and how her own daughter's photo was found at a crime scene?

She'd probably go catatonic.

"For me, it's meant to be healing. It was my doctor's idea," he said, surprised with how easily the lie had come. "It's been pretty hard,"

"What has?" Ed asked in between sips of his coffee.

Sanford barely knew these people; all he knew was they were Ava's parents and they'd helped him when he needed it the most. Yet something about them made him calm. The house he was in wasn't only four walls and a roof; it wasn't just his place of refuge for when the bad thing happened. It was a home. He could feel that the moment he walked in. There was love there. It was the home he wished he'd had. Like the home he'd wanted for Sadie.

He figured his own father would've murdered these people.

They talked for several hours, mostly about what the town had become, what was new and what had stayed the same. His house, for one. It stood there, dormant and unused, except for the teenagers that would break in to drink and smoke. Ed told him that the realtors gave up on trying to sell it. Everyone knew what had happened there. They'd tear it down if it didn't create a chasmic hole in the neighborhood. Sadie was curled up in a ball on their flower-patterned couch in the living room, which was more of a museum filled with little trinkets and collectibles, ceramic figurines Sadie had wanted to play with but couldn't touch.

Sanford told the story of the first time he had met Ava, and how she could skip a rock better than he could. He brought her up on purpose, hoping they'd open up about where she was. They didn't. For the first time since they left home, Sanford realized he drove all the way up to Maine without even knowing if she still lived there.

"So, excuse me, but where is Ava?" he bluntly asked. He had tried to make it sound casual, but with his nerves so tightly wound it came off as anything but.

"To be honest, Sanford," Ed said, hesitantly, "we weren't sure if we should tell you."

"Really? May I ask why?"

"It's just... she's had a rough go at it. And we feel like seeing you, might make things worse... no offense."

"None taken, I'm used to causing that reaction," he forced a laugh to try and soften the mood. "Look, I'm not here to cause her any trouble, or even talk about what happened to me. It's just important for me to... see people, you know? To see the good parts of my childhood... instead of the despair. And truthfully, when I try to think about anything good from back then, it's usually Ava."

It was true.

There was a silent moment, lasting for what Sanford felt was an eon.

"It might be good for her, Ed," Mrs. Potter whispered to her husband, who stared back at her and nodded.

"She lives in Kennebunk now," Ed said. "It's important you know, Sanford, she just came out of a bad divorce... a violent one. She moved there to get away from it, to get away from him."

Ed got out of his chair, walked to the kitchen counter, and grabbed a pad and a pen. He began to write.

"Here's her address, number, and the name of the diner she works at. You could find her there most of the time. I suggest you go there first, instead of showing up at her front door."

"Thank you. Thank you for everything you did for me."

"Well, you're welcome, son. But I didn't do anything no one else wouldn't have done. Just don't make me regret giving you this," Ed said and handed Sanford her information.

"I won't," Sanford said with a smile. "I promise, I won't cause her any trouble."

Famous last words, he thought to himself. Even he had trouble believing them.