Shoot, Don't Shoot

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Authors: J. A. Jance
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complaint—that Joanna found herself wondering if it was the same woman. Once, when Eleanor was laughing gaily—almost flirtatiously—at one of Jim Bob’s folksy, time-worn quips, Joanna found herself speculating for just the smallest fraction of a moment if there was a chance Eva Lou was right after all. Maybe there was a new man in Eleanor Lathrop’s life.
    In the end, though, Joanna attributed her mother’s lighthearted mood to the fact that there were nonfamily guests at dinner. She reasoned that Jeff and Marianne’s presence must have been enough to force Eleanor Lathrop to don her company manners. Whatever the cause of her mother’s sudden transformation, Joanna welcomed it.
    The festive dinner with its good food and untroubled conversation helped ease Joanna past her earlier misapprehensions about being away at school. Jenny and the ranch would be in good hands while Joanna was gone. There was no need for her to worry. She said her flurry of good-byes, to everyone else in the house; then Jenny alone walked Joanna out to the loaded Blazer.
    “Ceci and I are almost alike, aren’t we,” Jenny said thoughtfully.
    “What do you mean?”
    “Well, my daddy’s dead, and her mom is. She’s staying with her grandparents. While you’re away, I’ll be staying with mine.”
    The situations of the two girls weren’t exactly mirror images. Joanna was on her way to take a course that would help her be a better police officer, Jorge Grijalva was in jail, charged with murdering his former wife. Jenny’s surviving grandparents had just enjoyed a companionable meal with one another. Ceci Grijalva’s maternal grandparents had refused to allow Juanita Grijalva to attend her own daughter-in-law’s funeral. But Joanna didn’t mention any of that to Jenny.
    “You’re right,” she said simply. “You have a lot in common.”
    “Could we go see her?”
    “Who?”
    “Ceci. Next weekend when I come up for Thanksgiving?”
    Joanna was carrying her purse and keys. Jenny was carrying Juanita Grijalva’s envelope. As far as Joanna could see, it hadn’t been opened. Joanna found herself wondering if Jenny had been hanging around the living room eavesdropping while Joanna had been talking to Juanita.
    “Why would you want to do that?” Joanna asked guardedly.
    Jenny shrugged. “Almost everyone else in Mrs. Lassiter’s class has two parents. There are two kids whose parents are divorced. I’m the only one whose dad is dead.”
    “So?”
    “At Daddy’s funeral, everybody said how sorry they were and that they knew how I felt. But they didn’t, not really. They weren’t nine years old when their fathers died. If I tell Ceci I know how she feels, it’ll be for real, ‘cause she’s nine years old and so am I. Maybe if I tell her that, it’ll make her feel better.”
    They had reached the truck by then. Joanna wrenched open the door and tossed both her purse and Juanita’s envelope into the car. Now she leaned down and pulled Jenny toward her, grasping her in a tight hug while a sudden gust of wind blew a whisp of Jenny’s long, smooth hair across Joanna’s cheek.
    “Did anyone ever tell you that you’re one special kid?” Joanna asked, holding Jenny at arm’s length so she could look the child in the eye.
    “Daddy did sometimes,” Jenny answered wistfully.
    “He was right,” Joanna said. “You’re right to be concerned about Ceci. And I’ll see what I can do. If I can find out where she’s staying, maybe we could take her out to do something with us while you’re there.”
    “Like going to Baskin-Robbins?” Jenny asked.
    “Just like,” Joanna said with a fond smile. Joanna had spent days and nights agonizing in advance about this leave-taking. Now the moment came and went with unexpected ease and without a single tear. “I’ll miss you, Mommy,” Jenny said hugging Joanna one last time. “I’ll miss you, but I’ll be good. I promise. Girl Scout’s honor.”
    “I’ll be good, too,”

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