Chapter Twenty Four

Pulling the door open, she tried to smile in greeting as she wrapped the rag tighter around her hand and resisted the urge to rub her shin. In front of her stood a man covered in what seemed to be oil. "Eddie? Were you on an oil rig?"

"No, I was helping a friend and a damn hydraulic hose broke. I got the most of it, saved the floor though." He smiled and Kelleigh forgot her hand, her shin, and his messy appearance. Underneath the mess, he had the kindest brown eyes and a gentle smile that immediately warmed her heart.

She stepped back to let him in, stumbling of course, over something in the process. Eddie immediately shot out a hand to steady her then noticed the rag around her hand. "Now, what have you done to yourself here?" He took her hand, saw the blood seeping through the cloth then unwrapped the rag. Kelleigh was momentarily struck speechless at his immediate concern and gentle touch. Shaking her head as if to clear it, she began to explain, "I was trying to turn on the light and slid my hand against a piece of sheet metal. Then you knocked so I just wrapped a rag around it."

"Well, let's see what we've got here." He led her over to the utility sink by her injured hand. Dumbstruck, she followed him without protest. Turning on the water, he released her hand. "I've got to wash my hands again. If I get hydraulic fluid in that cut, it will hurt like a buggar." Kelleigh smiled in response. She hadn't realized that he was Canadian. The colloquialisms were something that was going to provide entertainment for her, she was sure.

"Now then, let's see." He pulled her closer and put her hand into the stream of water. It stung and she instinctively pulled her hand away. "I'm sorry. 'Tis a bad cut. We've got to rinse it out, see if you need stitches." Even more gentle than before he took her hand and brought it back under the water. Kelleigh sucked in her breath and closed her eyes in response to the sting of the water. It wasn't as bad this time. "Aye, you'll be alright. It's done bleeding now. Seems like a clean cut. We'll just wrap it, shall we?"

Kelleigh opened her eyes to find Eddie looking at her. He had deep brown eyes, shining nothing but kindness back at her. She hadn't felt that kind of feeling from a man in so long that it became mesmerizing. She found herself simply gazing back at him, wordless.

Seeming to catch himself, Eddie blinked then turned toward the workbench. Grabbing the stool, he slid it over to her and guided her onto it. "Where do you keep your first aid kit?"

"First aid kit?" she dumbly repeated. It was as if his eyes had stolen all intelligence from her.
He smiled in response "Did you hit your head too? First aid kit. We need to bandage your hand."

"Oh, um. Yeah. I don't have one out here, it's, there's one upstairs under the sink." Realizing that he'd never been to her house before, she rose to go get it. "I'll go get it." As she rose, she used her injured hand for leverage, winced, and then wavered just a bit. She didn't think that he even noticed but he did. With a hand on her shoulder, he pressed her back onto the stool. "Just stay where you are. I'm sure I can figure it out."

Feeling like a foolish and weak woman, she could only gesture toward the door into the house. "Through that door, turn right, up the stairs, turn left. Door at the end of the hall. Under the sink." She hadn't gotten all of the words out and he was already through the door.

Giving into her feeling foolish, she rested her head on her good hand and closed her eyes. Here I sit, she silently grumbled, trying to sound competent and knowledgeable and I cut myself then get lightheaded like a swooning debutante.

Chapter Twenty Three

In response to the soft spoken voice, Kelleigh laughed a short laugh. "I'm sorry, it's been a bad day or couple of days, rather."

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that. How can I help you?"

A litany of items scrolled through her head: resurrect Steve and kill him again being the first item. She actually smiled at her own sarcasm then quickly focused on the caller.

"I have a racecar that's unfinished and I need recommendations as to what to do next and references for who should do the work. I was given your name as a starting point."

"Right on. Well, first I'd need to see the car eh?"

Kelleigh stifled the urge to laugh again. She hadn't realized that Eddie was Canadian. "When can you come by?"

"Well, I'm in town today. I could come by later this afternoon if that's okay with you."

"That would be great. I promise that I won't verbally abuse you when you come."

Eddie laughed with a deep rumble. "Aye, that would be good. How do I find you?"

Kelleigh gave him directions to the house and they hung up. She was intrigued at the prospect of meeting Eddie. There was something about the sound of his voice, as if there were constantly laughter underneath his words that caught her attention.

Having been cajoled out of her violent mood, Kelleigh ignored the garage and went into the house. Seeing the textbooks on the table, she took the workbook then sat on the couch to study. Her test was first thing tomorrow morning and she wanted to study some more, even though she felt pretty confident. However, she certainly didn't want to be cocky. Being a woman, she knew to expect difficulties when she took the test. She was daring to enter a man's world. As much as feminism declared their movement a success, there were still areas were women dared not tread. However, Kelleigh wasn't taking this test to prove anything other than she could do it. She was taking this test to improve her life. This was something she had always wanted; Steve's death had shown her that.

She found herself stretched out on the couch hours later as she closed the workbook. She'd reread the entire book and felt confident that she could and would indeed pass tomorrow. Feeling satisfied, she looked up at the clock. "Oh no!" It was nearly time for Eddie to arrive.

Hurrying out to the garage, she flipped the light on. It blinked once then went out. Cursing under her breath, she tried to make her way to the workbench to flip on another overhead light. She had been after Steve for months to fix the lighting in here and he never got around to it. Now she would have to add it to the list of things she would need to figure out.

Reaching the worktable, she leaned against it and reached out to the switch. As she did so, she grazed her hand against a piece of sheet metal that Steve had left there. "Son of a …" Kelleigh let out with a few curses as she felt her hand warm with blood. Turning on the light, she saw a large gash across the side of her hand. At the same time, a knock on the garage door let her know that Eddie had arrived. "Great timing,” she muttered as she grabbed a rag and wrapped it around her hand. Making her way around the racecar, she called out "Just a minute, I'm trying to get to the door."

She no sooner got the words out when her shin caught the jack handle that was sticking out from underneath the car. "Oh for the love of God." She was a wreck, bleeding and bruised as she finally reached the door.

Chapter Twenty Two

The blonde walked around to the passenger side and opened the door. Inside was a car seat that she began to unbuckle. Kelleigh could see a little sneaker kicking in excitement. In a flash, a little red-haired boy was out of the car seat and running across the yard. The sight of the red hair made Kelleigh suck in her breath. She expelled it in one quick rush when she heard the woman turn and call "STEVIE! Come back here!"



Kelleigh was struck dumb. The familiar car, the red hair like Steve's, the little boy's name. She waited while the woman scooped up her rambunctious toddler and went into the house. She sat, still and mute for a few more minutes trying to comprehend what she just witnessed.



Finally, she shook her head as if to clear it, put the truck into gear and pulled back onto the street. As she pulled slowly past the house, she noticed the numbers above the door. Indeed, this was Becky's house. For the first time since hearing of Steve's death, a sob escaped from Kelleigh.



Kelleigh had one of those out-of-body experiences. She didn't know how she got home but she did. She found herself sitting in her driveway, tears finished but still on her cheeks. The initial shock had subsided and now she was experiencing a collision of feelings: anger, hurt, frustration, and betrayal. She felt the pressing need to do something, she just didn't know what, something to help her cull through her feelings.



She jumped down from the truck and headed toward the garage. She had the need to hit something and visualized taking a hammer to the damn racecar. As she unlocked the door, her cell phone rang. Hoping it was Delly, she answered it on the first ring. "Hi. Where the hell have you been?"



There was a moment of silence on the other end before she heard a small cough and then
"Is Kelleigh available? This is Eddie, calling in response to a message left at the racetrack."



At least three bad words rang through her head and nearly out of her mouth while she tried to gain composure. "I'm so sorry, I thought you were someone else."



"I should hope so."

Chapter Twenty One

Frustrated with herself, she looked at the numbers and address she had written.

With a most unladylike oath, she picked up the telephone and dialed the number that Steve had written in the address book. After one ring, the familiar tone of a disconnected number sounded through the earpiece. Kelleigh pushed down the disconnect button then dialed the next number.

She held her breath as the telephone rang. It was an odd and intuitive habit that she did when she was feeling defensive. Catching herself, she blew it out in a long, slow breath. The telephone clicked and she heard an answering machine begin to speak. Unfortunately, it was an automated voicemail system with no identifying voices or names. With another oath, she put the receiver down again.

This only left the address. Kelleigh drummed her fingers on the table again. This was a habit that her father hated and often yelled at her about. As an adult, she found that she did it almost out of spite, not necessarily out of habit.

"Oh, what the hell." Kelleigh rose, grabbed her keys and cell phone then went out to the truck. Delly hadn't called and she didn't feel like waiting for her anymore. She laughed as she glanced the time on the clock in her truck. It had been a whole twenty minutes that she had been waiting. Patience was usually not a strong suit for Kelleigh. Sometimes it boded well. Sometimes it created problems. She hoped, as she slipped the truck into reverse that this time it would help her.

The town listed was about fifteen minutes away. She had to take the highway to get there and was well on her way before she fully realized that this was the highway that Steve had his accident.

No sooner did she realize it than she saw the skid marks and the paint markings from the State Patrol, marking the accident. The ditch was roughed up and the telephone pulled scarred from the impact. Kelleigh felt a chill slide down her spine as she passed the site. Self-consciously, she pulled her seatbelt tight as she drove by. The shudder she felt was more out of the fear of stepping on a grave than one of grief.

It still concerned her that she hadn't grieved "properly." It seemed as if she were stuck in the anger portion of grieving and unable to pull herself out. She knew it would hit her some day and she wasn't looking forward to it.

Before she knew it, she pulled into town. She was familiar with this town nearly as much as her own. Looking at the address, she knew that she was close to the house. How convenient, right inside city limits, she grumbled to herself.

She turned right, then left then right again, watching the street signs as she drove. She slowed at the next intersection, trying to remember if she should turn right or left. An oncoming car pulled up to the stop sign with its right turn signal blinking. Kelleigh let the car turn and watched it as it went. It was an older Camaro and looked slightly familiar.

She stayed put, measuring her thoughts. The car looked familiar and she was sitting near the address. What were the odds that this was the mysterious Becky?

Why was her car, if it is indeed her, familiar? Had Steve been audacious enough to actually bring it to the house?

A car approached her from behind, breaking her from her musings and forcing her to make a choice. She flipped on the turn signal and followed the Camaro. It was about a block away and Kelleigh sped up a little to try to shorten the distance separating them. Suddenly hot, she rolled down the window to let in some fresh air. She was sure that her face had reddened in frustration, anger, and hurt.

Her Irish coloring was betraying her feelings.

The car slowed and turned into a driveway. Kelleigh slowed and managed to park the truck without being noticed just one house down from where the Camaro stopped. She watched as a bleach blonde-haired woman stepped from the car. Trashy immediately came to mind but Kelleigh tried to push it away as judgmental. She knew nothing about this girl. She didn’t know if this was Becky or not. She was too far away to see for sure. The hair color was different but that can be easily changed. She couldn't quite see the address on the house but it seemed close enough to be the one she found.

Psst...

I'm still here. Left y'all hanging in the middle, my apologies.

I mangled the Auto Post feature, totally my bad. Must. Figure. This. Out.

Here's a whole whack of chapters:

Chapter Twenty

As she walked to her truck, her temper began to simmer hotter and hotter. She pulled her cell phone out of her pocket and dialed Delly's number. It rang then went directly to her voicemail. As Delly was a beautician, she was probably with a client. Kelleigh left a message: "Delly, you wont' believe this or maybe you will. I can't get the money out of the bank. He listed another woman as the next of kin. Do you recognize the name Becky Garver? Let me know. If Steve were alive right now, I'd kill him. Talk to you soon."



She flipped the phone shut in frustration. It wasn't the fact that she couldn't get the money. It was the existence of it and of Becky Garver. She didn't need Steve's money, actually now she didn't want it. Nevertheless, she did want to find out who this Becky is. Kelleigh started the truck and headed home. She would search on the Internet and if that didn't glean anything, unfortunately she would have to ask Sid.



Kelleigh returned home, parking the truck tight against the garage again. She just didn't trust Sid. Her tempered was still simmering hot and she wished for the first time in a long time that she had a cigarette. She'd quit years ago and had urged Steve to quit as well but he refused. If he were here, she would sneak a cigarette. The irony being that because he wasn't here, she wanted to smoke.
Instead, she poured herself a cup of coffee, slid it into the microwave, and slammed the door shut. Stabbing at the buttons on the panel, she fought the urge to throw things. Much like when she tipped the dresser out of the upstairs window. If she didn't want to keep the racecar so badly, she would take a baseball bat to it right now.



The microwave dinged when it finished heating and Kelleigh giggled at the image that popped into her head: the starting bell of a boxing match. She was the star, pummeling the snot out of Steve. Visualizing the absurd little scene bled off some of her anger. She took out the coffee cup and went to the table where her laptop was pushed off to the side by the textbooks she studied yesterday.
Her stomach did a little flip at the sight of them, a visual reminder of tomorrow's test. Tests made her nervous, especially tests that were taken by and given by men. As she stacked them up and set them on the coffee table, she promised herself that she would study tonight. First, she wanted to find out who in the hell Becky Garver was.



A quick Internet search gave her an address and telephone number. Becky lived in the next town, just about 10 miles away. That was all she gained from the search, no mentions in the local police blotter or community news, no wedding announcements, nothing. Kelleigh wrote down the address and number then slid the paper to the side. She didn't know what to do next. Surely, the bank would have notified her by now of Steve's money. It was nearly lunchtime. For a quick second, Kelleigh considered going back to the bank and waiting to see if she could spot Becky coming to get the money. She discarded the thought as soon as it flitted through her mind; she had no idea what she looked like. She could only assume that she was the girl in the picture they found.
She would just have to wait for Delly to call her back. Delly knew practically everyone, perhaps she would know her, or at least of her.



Frustrated and bored, Kelleigh went into the kitchen and made herself a sandwich. She wasn't really hungry; it was more of a habit. She quickly slapped together a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. As she leaned against the kitchen counter, it occurred to her that she forgot, again, to call the racetrack. Sighing with frustration, she went back to the table and flipped open the address book.
Doing so jarred something in her mind. She flipped to the G section and scanned the names and numbers for anything resembling Becky Garver. Nothing.



She flipped back to the B section and scanned it. At first, she didn't find anything then something struck her as strange. An entry that Steve made "BG" was listed at the bottom. Kelleigh at first assumed that it was a manufacturer that Steve often called with tech questions about the car but she realized that the prefix was the same as the telephone number she'd written on the pad of paper. The remaining numbers were different but the prefix the same. As the manufacturer wasn't local, she knew it wasn't them. Could it be? Would he be that bold? Then Kelleigh rolled her eyes at her own naivete. He'd been bold enough, or rather stupid enough, to keep her picture and money in their bedroom. Why wouldn't he have written the number down too?
Kelleigh added the number to the address and number written on the pad. One more clue to give Delly when she called.



She sat doodling on the notepad with her chin resting in her hand. She suddenly felt as if nothing was real or right. Nothing in her life was as it seemed. With one argument, her entire life changed. She was no longer married, now a widow actually. Her marriage was a sham; not that she carried any delusions about it before Steve's death. With Steve's life insurance, she didn't have to worry about bills for a while. She could do as she wished, with him gone.



Everything was changed. It was as if she were dropped into an alternate universe. Kelleigh felt powerless. It was a feeling that wasn't unfamiliar to her and she hated it. She had kept it at bay during her adult life. First by marrying Steve, which turned out to be a horrible mistake, then by working and earning her own money. She also made a point of learning about anything and everything that ever interested her. This thirst for knowledge kept her entertained and distracted from the problems in her life. Now, there was nothing to distract her. Everything that was wrong was highlighted in garish light.

Chapter Nineteen

Kelleigh continued to the bank, feeling more excited as she came closer. She questioned herself, much like questioning her lack of grief. One would think that she would be bitter over these hidden dollars. Instead, she saw it as an unexpected gift. Sad as it was, her life had been nothing but improved with Steve's death.

Upon entering the bank, she inquired at the reception as to whom to speak with about Steve's account. She was given the manager's name and asked to wait. As she sat, she noticed the receptionist point her out to a teller. Hmm, she thought, trying not to feel scrutinized, I wonder what that's all about. Deciding to shrug it off, she picked up a magazine and flipped through the pages.

A few minutes later, a small tight-lipped and buttoned-up woman appeared in front of her. She looked to be only in her forties when you looked closely but at first glance appeared much older.

"Hello, Mrs. Lucky. I am Mrs. Applewhite, the bank manager. I understand that there is an issue with an account here. I'll be happy to discuss it with you, just follow me." She turned on her heel without waiting for an answer.

Kelleigh frowned, tossed the magazine back onto the table, and followed her. She wasn't sure what to make of Mrs. Applewhite. She also had a feeling of trepidation that her reason for being there was described as an "issue with an account."

They entered an office, away from the tellers. Kelleigh wasn't certain but she felt as if every teller watched her as she followed the manager. Something was up, she was sure of it.

"Please have a seat and explain to me what brings you here. I have a message from customer service but would like to hear from you." She smiled with the tight-lipped mouth again. The smile did nothing to soothe Kelleigh's now rattled nerves.

"On Friday night, my husband Steve was killed in car accident. While going through his personal affects, I discovered that he has an account here. I am assuming that it was established before we were married. I would like to close that account." She smiled, trying not to show her anxiety.

"Yes, I understand. That is similar to the message I received. First, let me start with my condolences on the loss of your husband. It must have been a great shock."

Kelleigh nearly smiled at her in response but bit it back just in time. She would have to work on being the widow, grieving or not. "Thank you ma'am. I appreciate your thoughts" was the best that she could muster. She really wanted to lean in confidentially and tell her how this was hidden money and how she would found cash and a picture of a woman but somehow, she knew Mrs. Applewhite would not be a sympathetic ear.

"Now, let me double-check the account. You have the account number?"

Kelleigh nodded and gave her the deposit receipt. "Yes, here it is. It seems like a recent deposit. Here, also, are the copies of our marriage certificate and his death certificate. Also, here is my driver's license so you can verify that I am indeed his wife."

Mrs. Applewhite entered the account number into the computer then frowned into the screen. Like the customer service person, she then asked social security numbers, mother's maiden names, etc. Kelleigh rattled these off without a thought. Mrs. Applewhite continued to frown into the screen, without comment.

"Excuse me, would you? I need to pull his file." She rose and left the office without a sound.

I am starting to feel as if I'm in a science fiction movie or a soap opera, either of them. Something is telling me this isn't going to be as easy as the person made it sound. Kelleigh tried to refrain from mumbling aloud. Leave it to Steve to leave complications behind for Kelleigh to clean up. It was the story of their life together.

A few minutes passed and Kelleigh was becoming increasingly uneasy. Something was definitely wrong. Finally, as Kelleigh was considering leaving and forgetting about the money, Mrs. Applewhite returned with a file in hand.

"Okay, Mrs. Lucky. I've looked into the account thoroughly. It is indeed owned by your husband, Steve. However, you are not listed anywhere on the account. As you may or may not know, account-holders are requested to list a next of kin on their applications. You, it seems, are not listed. Normally, this wouldn't be an issue as you are indeed his spouse. However, he has listed another name."

Kelleigh wanted to groan. "Can you tell me which name? Is it Sid Lucky?" she was trying to quickly think of whom else Steve would have possible listed. "Or his mother, Helen Lucky?"

"No, Mrs. Lucky. It is neither of those names. Whereas confidentiality is of utmost importance, I would normally not ever disclose the name listed on an account but under these extraordinary circumstances, I will give you the name listed. Perhaps it's a daughter? Niece?" Mrs. Applewhite slid a small piece of notepaper over to her. Written up on it in impeccable penmanship was the name
"Becky Garver."

Kelleigh sat back against her chair, feeling completely deflated. She didn't know a Becky Garver. As she and Steve married right out of high school, she knew of any ex-girlfriends, friends, or relatives. This was not the name of any of them.

"So, let me understand. Although I am his wife and this is a community property state, I am unable to obtain these funds due to the listing of a next of kin?"

Mrs. Applewhite, to her credit, looked as if she would rather eat a spoonful of castor oil than answer her. "Unfortunately, Mrs.… ah, Kelleigh, that is correct. You will need to contact the Miss Garver with any further questions. The bank, as policy provides, will also notify her of the funds now that we are aware of your husband's passing."

"I can't believe this." Kelleigh muttered under her breath without realizing that she had done so.

In a gesture that Kelleigh would have never predicted, Mrs. Applewhite rose, walked around the desk and laid a gentle hand on her shoulder. "I'm sure that this will all work out, dear. It's surely just a misunderstanding."

Kelleigh accepted the condolence, knowing that it was not a misunderstanding. "Thank you Mrs. Applewhite. I appreciate your help. I can contact you if I have any further questions?"

"Of course. Again, my condolences." She walked Kelleigh to the lobby. Kelleigh felt again as if every eye was upon her. Of course, she would be a hot topic today at the bank: the scorned wife.