Sweet Jiminy by Kristin Gore Read Free Book Online Page A

got more dogs and cats than people who want them,” Willa protested.
    It was true. Puppies and kittens were regularly deposited at the large collection of Dumpsters near the interstate to fend for themselves, or dropped from the bridge into the river to end things more quickly. This wasn’t a town that was sentimental about such things.
    â€œThose are all mutts,” the HushMart minion said dismissively. “We’ll sell purebreds here.”
    Willa absorbed this as she glanced around at the floor-to-ceiling shelves that seemed to stretch for miles.
    â€œCan you point me toward the silver polish?” she asked. “I get so turned around in here.”
    â€œStraight that way, past the photo zone, third left into Household Care,” the employee replied obligingly, before turning to thrust the chew toys in front of another shopper.
    Willa made her ambling way through the photo zone, marveling at the variety of cameras and camera accessories she passed. Her husband Henry had been a photography aficionado, and Jiminy clearly enjoyed her Polaroids, but Willa herself had never had much interest. She appeared in photos if another pointed a camera at her, but she’d never played an active role in capturing images. When it came down to it, she was a fundamentally passive person—someone whom things happened to, rather than someone who made things happen. Though she and her granddaughter had never been close, until recently, she’d felt they shared this characteristic. But lately, Jiminy had seemed almost intent on shaking things up. It went beyond the Polaroids—there was a new restless questing to her that surprised and unsettled Willa. Willa didn’t feel up to any fresh challenges. She felt weary and nervous.
    â€œNow, what was it I was looking for?” she said aloud as she turned away from an aisle filled with albums.
    What she wouldn’t give to have someone sure and trustworthy beside her, whispering the answer in her ear.
    Don’t be a coward, don’t be a coward, Jiminy repeated in her head, waiting for it to seep in and give her strength. She’d climbed over the fence and taken a long walk down the hill toward the river, in search of fresh views and solitude to think and plan. But now she was trapped and terrified, looking around for weapons.
    The rock in her hand wasn’t large enough, and the only other things she could spot around her were twigs. Why didn’t her grandmother have a dog? Some vicious, snarling, loyal dog who’d never let her go on walks by herself? If she got out of this alive, she swore she was going to get one.
    â€œGO AWAY! GO! LEAVE ME ALONE!” she shouted at the top of her lungs.
    They moved closer, and she backed away farther, trembling.
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    â€œI guess she’s really scared of them.” Willa sighed as she stared out the dining room window. “That must’ve been why she was asking me how often they maul people. I thought she was joking. Who’s scared of cows?”
    Beside Willa, Lyn chuckled harder.
    Willa was aware that this was the first time Lyn had smiled in her presence since their uncomfortable phone call. Even the yellowcake had only elicited an expressionless “Thanks.” Willa beamed, grateful that her granddaughter’s cowardice could bridge this divide.
    â€œShould we draw straws to see who has to go rescue her?” she asked.
    Lyn looked at her, eyes sparkling.
    â€œShe ain’t my blood,” Lyn replied. “So you can go draw your own straw.”
    Willa blinked in surprise, then burst out laughing, just as Lyn clutched her sleeve and pointed out the window.
    â€œWhat’s she doing? Did she just drop to the ground?”
    They both stared in disbelief.
    â€œSweet Jesus, she’s playing dead!” Lyn exclaimed.
    Now they were both laughing uncontrollably, gasping for breath.
    When Bo stuck his head into the room a moment later, Willa and Lyn were doubled