Buried [Completed]

Chapter eight

When Dougal and Jamie were kids, they spent a lot of time at Stella and Ward Amos's house. Stella had been his mom's partner and best friend, and the Amos's were like family.

Now, standing by their front door, Dougal was struck by how small the three-bedroom bungalow seemed. He knocked, and heard a shuffling sound from inside. After what seemed like a long time, Stella opened the door. She looked older, grayer, and she peered at him with first suspicion, and then dread.

"Ed?" 

Hearing his father's name hit Dougal like a slap. Involuntarily he took a step backward, but Stella was already correcting herself.

"Oh for heaven's sake, you must think I'm losing my mind. Of course your father must be in his sixties by now. You've just grown to look so much like him. Come in Dougal, come in. It's so nice to see you."

"Hi, Stella. How are you?" He hated that he sounded stiff and polite, like a stranger. But her reference to his father had really unnerved him.

"I'm just great, Dougal. Though my arthritis is slowing me down, I can't deny. And how about you? I see your books every time I go shopping in the city. Bestsellers now, aren't they?"

She'd been leading him to the kitchen as they talked, every now and then throwing him curious looks.

"I've had some good luck with my writing," he allowed. 

She chuckled. "Your humility is not something you inherited from your father. Tell me, are you hungry? I was just about to make an egg and some toast."

"You go ahead. I'm eating later." As Stella puttered around the kitchen, Dougal checked out the view to the backyard.

"You still have the tree house." 

She smiled, opened the fridge, pulled out two beers and handed him one. "Amos keeps saying he's going to tear it down, but he never does."

Amos had often played with them out in that yard. He'd been the one to show Dougal how to throw a football, properly. How to fish and ride a bike. Dougal remembered his mom telling them that Stella and Amos had been unable to have children of their own. It was too bad. They would have made great parents.

"I suppose you're in town for Jamie's wedding?"

He avoided the question by countering it. "What do you think of Kyle?"

"I clean his house every second week, but I don't see that much of him. I come when he's at work and the kids are at school. I have a key."

"Mom used to clean for Mr. and Mrs. Quinpool when I was a kid. She didn't care for them much. Not like the Hammonds, she used to tell me. Now those people have class." He straddled a chair and folded his arms on the table.

"I don't think she'd be happy about Jamie marrying Kyle."

"A lot of people around here would say he's a great catch. Myself, I share your reservations. But, like your mother, Jamie has a stubborn streak. If she thinks she loves Kyle, then that's it."

"You're smarter than I am, Stella. I've been in town about twenty-four hours and already I've managed to have two fights with my sister."

"You better patch things up. She's your only family now." He looked down at the table.

"Did Mom suffer a lot?"

"The doctors did as much as they could for her pain. And she was never alone. Jamie and I kept a twenty-four hour watch for the last few days."

He should have been there. Stella didn't say it, but of course she was thinking it.

"I still have trouble believing she's gone, sometimes. Your mother was so vibrant. I have to say, I miss her terribly." Dougal's gaze was still on the table.