The Wife Who Knew Too Much - Michele Campbell Page 0,3

she rolled. So, I was surprised that Connor even knew my name, let alone that he’d use it. I put the dishes down and walked over to him.

“It’s Tabitha. Nobody calls me Tabby.”

“I do.”

I nodded, trying to play it cool, when really I wanted to whoop and turn a cartwheel because Connor Ford had a pet name for me.

“So, listen. My cousin Robbie and I have this band. We’re playing in the clubhouse at nine tonight, in the TV room off the dining hall. You should come.”

“You want me to come hear your band?”

“Why not? You got someplace better to go?”

“Staff isn’t allowed at club events. There’s a policy against it.”

“Well, look, this isn’t an actual club event. It’s just some kids jamming. So, that rule doesn’t apply.”

“I don’t know.”

“Just say I invited you. It’s a stupid rule, anyway. Nobody’s gonna care.”

Nobody except your grandmother, I wanted to say.

“I can’t. Thanks for asking, though. That’s nice of you.”

He looked at me steadily. I felt dizzy, staring into those eyes.

“Well, if you change your mind, no tickets required. I’ll even dedicate a song to you.”

I laughed. “I’ll think about it.”

“You do that.”

I walked away, beaming. For the rest of that day, I floated through my chores, slowly convincing myself not only that I could pull it off, but that I had to. A guy I had an awful crush on had asked me to come hear his band play. Why shouldn’t I go? He was right. The rule was stupid. Yet, sneaking out wouldn’t be easy. My grandparents’ house was tiny, and if Grandma Jean caught me, she’d be upset.

I’d been living with my grandparents for years at that point, and though I loved them to pieces, I longed to escape. I’d grown up an army brat, moving every year. When I was ten, my mom died. At the funeral, her parents, Grandma Jean and Grandpa Ray, convinced my dad to let me spend the summer with them. When summer ended, everyone agreed I should stay on. Everyone but me. Nobody asked me what I wanted. My grandparents became my legal guardians. To this day, I don’t know which was harder—my mother dying, or my father letting me go so easily. At least Mom wanted me. Dad eventually remarried and moved to Texas with his new wife and kids. I was not invited to join them.

Every time I went near the pool that afternoon, Connor made an excuse to talk to me. He ordered a milkshake and three Cokes in a three-hour period, brushing his fingers against mine when I handed him something, making me flush and stutter.

The pool closed at six. At ten of, I was collecting ketchup squeeze bottles from the grill area when Connor came up behind me. He put his hands on my waist and spun me around to face him. He was so tall. I could smell the suntan lotion, warm on his skin.

“Tell me I’m gonna see you later, Tabby. Please?” he said.

“I want to.”

“Then, what’s the problem?”

“Besides that I could get fired? I’d have to sneak out.”

“I sneak out all the time. And it’s just a job, right?”

Connor could afford to think that way. I couldn’t. But his smile sent a thrill right through me.

“All right. I’ll be there.”

“That’s my girl,” he said, and I loved the sound of that.

That night at supper in the cramped kitchen, things seemed particularly grim. Grandpa Ray was suffering from his emphysema, and Grandma Jean had had a bad day at work.

“This damn recession,” she said, her face gaunt, her eyes tired behind her glasses. “They’re talking layoffs.”

“Not you, Grandma Jean. They couldn’t get along without you.”

“You’re sweet, honey.”

“You guys go watch TV. I’ll clean up.”

I washed the dishes by hand, since the dishwasher had broken last year and never been fixed. We sat on the sofa for a while and watched the History Channel. Time dragged. I could feel life happening outside the walls without me. I wondered what Connor was doing right then.

By eight-thirty, Grandpa was snoring loudly, and Grandma was nodding. A loud commercial came on, and her head jerked up.

“I think maybe we’ll turn in. Help me get Grandpa to bed, Tabitha.”

My grandfather leaned on my arm, wheezing, as we walked down the narrow hallway, Grandma Jean wheeling his oxygen tank alongside us. He hadn’t worked in years because of his condition, so money was always tight. We lived in a tiny ranch-style house in Baldwin, one town over from Lakeside, where the country