Wakefield, Wyoming. Chapter 6

“Fourteen bottles of beer on the wall, fourteen bottles of beer!” Lucinda sang loudly. Riverton was just thirty more minutes away, but Frank might just serve the car off the road if she kept going. Riverton was a hundred miles from Wakefield. It was her fourth round of 99 bottles of beer. “Take one down, pass it ‘round! Thirteen bottles of beer on the wall!” Frank gripped the steering wheel so tightly he might as well break it off.

She kept going, and going, and going. Frank was just about at his breaking point.

“One bottle of beer on the wall, one bottle of beer! Take one down, pass it ‘round, no more bottles of beer on the wall!” Lucy finished with a big grin on her face. 

“Okay, perfect,” Frank said through gritted teeth, “That was good. No more.”

Lucy looked at him with a puzzled expression. “Why not? It’s really fun! See, watch! Ninety-nine–”

“Shut it before I crash this car into those trees.”

Lucy quickly sank back into her seat. The drive from then on was silent. The vampire was quick to learn that Frank was very on edge in the car. Specifically when he wasn’t in Wakefield. Roads and people he didn’t know put him on edge. Dinah Shore had already been banned, and the Andrew Sisters were coming close to that line. So, a nondescript baseball game was in the background. Lucy tried focusing on it, but the fast moving treeline was much more exciting. Then, just as she got bored of that, a little idea came to mind.

“Do you like baseball?”  she asked.

Frank glanced at her briefly. “What God-fearin’ American don’t?”

Lucy left her position of slumping on the window and leaned towards him. “Yeah, but you listen to it a lot. Did you used to play?”

“Little league when I was a kid. Really loved it, actually,” Frank explained, the ghost of a smile on his face. 

“So why’d ya quit?” Lucy scratched the top of her scalp, confused.

Frank shrugged. “Had a passion for helping people more than entertaining them. Plus, I had to help my pops on the ranch.”

Lucy hummed, and that was the end of that. For once, Frank was next to start the conversation. “What do you wanna do when you meet your sister?”

Lucinda shrugged. Every day, it seemed her mannerisms were becoming more similar to his. “What’cha mean?”

“You said she got a husband, yeah? I just thought you’d want to be with your family.” Frank’s words felt like a silver bullet in Lucy’s chest. It just didn’t feel right. Sure, she longed for someone like her, but to leave Frank behind because of that?

“Sorry, sir. I think you’re straddled with me,” she said with a confident smirk. “It’s a two for one deal. Either we both move or we both don’t.” She scanned his face for some sort of conflict or disdain, only to be met with a soft smile.

He whispered, “Alright.”

Lucy couldn’t think of anything to say after that.

—

To Lucy, Riverton was such a different place compared to Wakefield. In reality, everywhere that wasn't full of mountains was shocking. Not everyone lived off a cliffside? What insane witchcraft was that?! To Frank, however, it was quite the opposite. Riverton was the only settlement that wasn't more than six hours away, so their law and crime departments collaborated frequently. 

Lucy's eyes were wide with lights in them. "It's so big!" she said, skipping around in circles to truly take in the surroundings. Frank lazily watched the women and children walk about town. It really wasn't all that Lucy thought it was, but a change of scenery was always nice. "Look! Look! It's the mountain! Our house is on the mountain!" Lucy pointed up to the forest-ridden hills. Their house wasn't actually up there, but on the left hill with even worse thicket. 

"Lucinda, what'd ya say the bakery's name was?" Frank yawned, sitting down on one of the nearby benches. 

Lucy slowly stopped hopping all over the place, ending awkwardly with her arms in the air. "Uh… Sir, I don't even know my sister's name," she explained. 

With that, Frank let out a long sigh. Of course she wouldn't know. Of course! Well, at least he was a detective. He was bred for this type of mystery. Frank leaned on his knees, his brows knit from deep thought. "You said your family is European, correct?"

Lucy, bored already, played hopscotch on the cracked sidewalk. "Yes, sir. Russian on my mama's, English on my dad's."

"Then let's look for some uncommon names. You're the only Lucinda Rainilda I've ever met," Frank said. He was actually a bit proud of himself for making the deduction. 

Then, Lucy shrugged. "Or we could just ask around, like–" Lucy ran to the first person she saw. The man she grabbed by the sleeve was a pale, blonde man with glasses and a tight blue sweater-vest. He looked to be in a rush, his short hair thrown into a frenzy. " 'scuse me, sir! Do you know any good bakeries around here? We're from outta town!"

The man looked down at Lucy with panic in his eyes. He yelped when he noticed Lucy tugging on his sleeve. "Oh! Oh." He scanned the area, before a breathy chuckle left him. "Yes, of course. Sorry, little missy," the man said, "There's a few. Rusty Barrel, New Bloom… Uhm, my personal favorite is Bel's Bakery. Run by a lovely couple, Alex and Isabel– Oh! They just had a baby, too. Those girls are just dolls."

"Thanks, good sir," Frank cut the blonde man off, fearing he'd go on forever. "Could you point us in the right direction?" 

"Oh, of course! Down Buck Street, and to the right!" he said.

"Thanks again, Mr…"

"Eugene! Uh, I'm Eugene. You're Frank, aren't you?" the man chuckled again and slicked back his hair, "Wakefield born and raised here, ha. Nice to see you."

Lucy was completely confused by the conversation. To be fair, she didn't actually know most people in Wakefield. She said her thanks, as ordered by Frank, but she still felt off put.

"You wouldn't happen to know where Maggie is? A bit shorter than me, long curls, probably in trousers? She's my little sister. That girl is always getting into trouble," Eugene said, searching both sides of him. Frank shook his head. "Ah, well don't worry about it. You'll probably find her at the station by now, anyway. She's always got something shiny in her pocket," he laughed, "I'm pretty sure we should call her Magpie by now."

Frank shrugged, as did Lucy, and Eugene deflated. “Well, I’m sure someone’s outta catch her eventually. Thanks, anywhos.” He promptly ran off. 

Lucy looked up at Frank. “What a weirdo, huh? And you know him?”

“He’s from Wakefield. Soon enough, you’ll get to know everyone in that town. And they’re all weirdos,” he responded. She doubted that, but it's not like she was very normal either. "Now," he took hold of her hand, "Bel's Bakery seems to be our best choice."

So, their walk began. Lucy idly skipped across the concrete, though knots squeezed the butterflies in her stomach. Was she really going to meet her sister? Her family? Someone like her? She didn’t know someone like that existed. Sure, her mom and dad and brothers and sisters existed, but they didn’t like her. Isabel would like her, if she was even real. They were both ousted…

Frank opened the door to Bel's Bakery and helped little Lucy inside. It was fairly quiet inside the small place, maybe six or seven tables. The tiles were pink and cutesy. Ladies sipped on teas and ate quaint servings of cupcakes, and a few of the more rambunctious children had their faces pressed against the glass displays. Despite the lack of sun, the bakery was filled with the warm aroma of bread and welcoming attitudes. Something about the place screamed that nothing would hurt them here. No Mrs. Baker, no Chief Jenkins, and no Dr. Beckwith. 

A single man stood at the register. He had shaggy brown hair and a scar across his lips, but had an oddly fond smile despite it. It wasn't a grin or anything, but it was a noticeable little curve on his lips. He only moved his left arm when handing people their food. When Lucy leaned a bit to sneak a look behind the counter, she noticed his digits were made of wood.

 “‘scuse me, sir,” Frank said, tapping the wooden counter idly, “Can we get something? Preferably something for the little lady.” His head tilted to Lucy.

The man didn’t even glance at her, “Of course. We’ve got donuts, petite cakes, muffins, bagels… The likes,” he mumbled. Despite his bulky appearance and missing limb, he seemed reclusive for a clerk.

“Perfect. Lucy? Go and snatch a seat. We’ll have two donuts,” he said as Lucinda scampered off, “One plain, one chocolate with sprinkles.” 

Lucinda wandered off, trudging through the waves of perfumed women and ravenous children. She even saw one little girl wearing overalls being scolded by her grandma for wearing such. Lucy scoffed. She never understood the big deal and wore trousers often, even if she did prefer dresses on some occasions. When cleaning the house or going out for chores, jeans were so much more comfortable. Especially when winter was fast approaching and tights were nothing. Still, back in Wakefield, Granny Lisa and Mrs. Baker insisted on being dressed like a proper little girl in camisoles and petticoats. The little girl seemed to think the same, completely ignoring the shrill old woman.

Lucinda took a seat at the window. The sun was starting to peek through the clouds. It was hard to imagine a world where Wyoming wasn’t covered in gray clouds, but it seemed that Wakefield was the only land in such gloom. By March, it would be back to normal and Lucy would be back to wearing big straw hats and gloves and tights to avoid the sunburn and rashes, occasionally hives. The weatherman said it might be sunny back in Wakefield, too. Lucinda sighed and ran back to Frank’s side, leaving her wool coat as a marker.

“Sir,” she called as she rushed to his side. He stood next to an open counter, waiting for a pastel box to arrive. “Can we close the curtains over there? It’s real bright.” 

“Sure, Lucy.” Frank nodded and turned to the man behind the counter. “Hey, buddy. We allowed to close those curtains over there? Sun’s hurting my niece’s eyes.”

A different voice emerged from behind a thin curtain. Behind it, the smell of rising yeast and sweet cream was stronger than anything. Though, just underneath it all, Lucy had an iron taste teasing her tongue. Not as strong as the Beckwith house, but definitely noticeable to the trained bloodhound. Perhaps it was just the man. His arm was entirely gone, including the shoulder socket, or maybe someone had cut themselves, or a young child had a band-aid. It was so faint she couldn’t really decipher anything from it. “Oh! Lemme get that for you!” 

The voice rushed out from behind the curtain with a box in one hand and an infant at her other hip, chewing on its own fist and babbling. Despite such a young looking baby, she moved and weaved through the kitchen just fine. “Alex, do you mind taking Cindy upstairs? I can handle it from here,” she said to her partner. He grinned and easily took the baby into his functional arm. 

Lucinda stopped breathing for almost a minute. There she was. With velvet black hair tied into a messy bun that curled up the back of her head, pale skin, and eyes like a blood moon. Isabell Rainilda. Frank’s eyes went wide. He couldn’t believe it was true that another one existed. Sure, there was a mansion full, but out in public? It was unheard of. Lucy could feel tears bubbling in behind her eyes.

“Now, what did ya need help with again?” Isabell said, leaning over the counter to see who was there.

She glanced over Frank, confused at his shocked expression. Then came Lucy. 

The box of donuts hit the floor in seconds.