The Deerborn Series

Bon Resi was the type of town most folks tried to avoid. We didn’t have the best history of being welcoming either.

A quiet community, Bon Resi only had approximately 1,200 people (counting the rural houses as well) with just barely enough work to keep people around.

The best place to work was an ice cream manufacturer called Copmin’s. Most of the townspeople were either directly related to someone who worked at Copmin’s or they worked there themselves.

We had one school that served as both the middle school and the high school, which often caused a lot of fights between students.

There were no other towns around Bon Resi as we were secluded by the mountainside.

The nearest town was fifty-two miles exactly, so the town was designed to support the needs of its citizens in the case of an emergency.

We were stocked with a grocery store, liquor store, two restaurants (although the second was more of a breakfast bar), a nursing home, a hospital…

two gas stations, a convenience store called Jake’s, and even a Subway fast-food restaurant that was attached to Jake’s.

We had a few little boutiques, a post office, a hardware store, a flower shop, a pharmacy, a radio station, and even a little coffee shop named Susan’s Deli.

I had been working at Susan’s for over three years now and had yet to discover why the owner, Malcolm, named it so.

Malcolm was a sullen old man with a drawn-out face. His eyes pooled with wrinkles, his nose scooped at the tip, and he always smelled of Irish Spring soap.

He wasn’t the best boss in the entire world, but I couldn’t complain because he gave me a paycheck every other week.

Bon Resi was not overly friendly with tourists or new folks mostly because we were “mountain people,” as some would say, and we liked our privacy.

We also had a bad history from the 1930s of a string of unsolved murders, eighteen residents of Bon Resi and three tourists.

The murders remained unsolved to this day, but also a strong part of our history.

Unfortunately, some of the skeptic citizens of Bon Resi believed that some sort of mystical creature came through and slaughtered a good number of our folks and that whatever creature it was still resided on the mountain.

They even had a festival dedicated solely to offering a sacrifice to the Kilarney, the name they gave to the mythical creature.

Nowadays, it has been dulled down to something a little more child friendly that involved lighting candles on the mountainside and leaving candy for the Kilarney.

And a street dance that sort of resembles Moonlight Madness, a festival where stores stayed open late and the streets are closed down for different carnival games and even a performance.

I was raised in this odd, sleepy village and so were many generations of the Deerborns.

My name was Sybil Alexandra Deerborn, daughter of the late mayor Richard Deerborn the Third, who was sadly taken from us two years ago this coming September due to colon cancer.

The only family I had left in the area was my mother Lillian, my sister Patricia, my Uncle Jess, and my twin cousins Michaela and Capri.

Jess’s ex-wife had a nephew named Aaron who would come to visit Jess once in a while, despite them having no direct relation.

He wasn’t visiting to see Jess’s girls either because Aaron was quite a few years older than me, and Michaela and Capri were six years younger than me.

Once in a while, I would see Aaron—not in recent years though.

I remembered asking Jess why Aaron didn’t come up for the summer, and he never quite gave me a straight answer. More or less, he just said that Aaron was going through a “phase.”

I wasn’t fond of Aaron, mostly due to his harsh demeanor toward me.

He seemed to be judging me quietly behind his dark blue eyes, constantly questioning my ethics even though I could assure you I was no different from any other twenty-one-year-old.

He’d often stop by Susan’s to buy some local grape juice as we did have a variety of local items that we sold in the shop on the side of the store, with the coffee shop in the den.

Whenever he’d come into the store, he was determined to call me out on everything I hadn’t done.

Such as why I wasn’t like the other people my age who had left Bon Resi for post-secondary education.

Or why I refused to work at Copmin’s and rather stayed with Susan’s, whether I got enough money to pay room and board to my mom, things like that.

I always tried my best to be patient with Aaron since he seemed to be merely curious, but he came off rather arrogant.

I didn’t enjoy our talks, and I was actually glad that he hadn’t come up for a few years.

I should have knocked on wood, because as I sat at the cash register going over inventory, in walked Aaron for his grape juice.

He looked like an entirely new person.

His usual black short hair was now grown out into a cascading ponytail that nearly passed his shoulders, his face seemed to be more contoured, a sign that his baby fat had basically melted right off.

He even looked like he started hitting the gym because the muscles in his arms seemed to be jutting right out from beneath his dark green jacket.

“Holy shit, I thought you died,” I joked, smiling the best I could.

Aaron simply rolled his eyes, determined to get his juice.

He searched through the shelves on the wall nearest to the door.

I didn’t have the heart to tell him that the McGrath Orchard had to shut down last fall due to lack of finances, ultimately resulting in the eviction of Judy and Harold McGrath.

After he discovered that the juice was not in its usual place, he looked over his shoulder at me skeptically.

“Since when don’t you sell McGrath’s?” He muttered, and I noticed that he had a toothpick between his cheek and gums.

I guess Uncle Jess wasn’t kidding; Aaron seemed to be going through some sort of phase, seeming more like a mixture of John Travolta from Grease and Jax from ~Sons of Anarchy~.

I shrugged. “Since McGrath’s went out of business. Can’t sell a product that isn’t available.”

Aaron turned to face me, crossing his arms over his chest.

“That sucks. Is there another type of grape that resembles theirs?” he questioned, rolling on his ankles.

He seemed impatient, as if there was somewhere more important he needed to be.

Before I could even respond, he threw a hand up and gestured for me to forget it. “Never mind,” he snapped.

My jaw dropped an inch. He was even more of an asshole than I remembered. He spun around and made his way out of the front door. I raised an eyebrow at his erratic behavior.

“Nice seeing you too…” I mumbled, then continued to do inventory.

After my shift was finished, I made my way home through the practically empty streets.

I couldn’t help but wonder what had made Aaron change so drastically. Surely this was not a sign of maturity, more so it seemed like Aaron was particularly going out of his way to act out.

When I got back to our ranch-style home, which happened to be just on the outskirts of town, I was greeted by my sister’s Shih Tzu, Mannie, who was persistent on me picking her up.

I reluctantly did as she begged, just so that she would quit whining. I couldn’t understand why Patricia even got a dog if she wasn’t able to give it the attention it not only needed but deserved.

I slipped off my tennis shoes, threw my keys on the side table beside the door, and walked through the narrow hallway toward the kitchen at the back of the house.

I could smell some sort of broth cooking and hoped to sweet Jesus that Mom was making minestrone soup.

I walked into the medium-sized kitchen, with an island counter floating in the middle of the room and white cupboards hugging the far wall. I smiled at my mom as she realized I walked in.

“Hey kid, how was work? Did you see Aaron today?” she asked, delighted to tell me the news firsthand.

I nodded, pressing my lips together as I plopped myself down on a barstool at the island.

“Yeah, when did he come back into town?” I responded, examining the bits of flour that still resided on the countertop. It looked like she had cooked biscuits too.

Mom stirred hastily at the pot on the stovetop, picking the label up so that she could take a sip of her concoction. I knew for sure it was minestrone now.

“Jess came by this morning to drop off that part for the sink, said he got a phone call yesterday morning around 3 a.m. from Aaron saying he was on his way. Jess wasn’t really prepared, even asked him what the rush was.

But Aaron just said it was important, then hung up.

When Aaron got to his place today, he kept going on and on about the mountain. Something like has anyone gone up there recently?” Mom announced, seeming quite happy to be in the know.

Why was Aaron so fascinated with the mountain? He was a city boy with a tendency to drink too much—that was his interest.

He never struck me as a person interested in nature and things alike.

“That’s odd. Yeah, he was kinda pissy with me at work because McGrath’s shut down,” I responded, twirling my fingers around the loose bits of flour.

Mom nodded, and just as she did, Patricia strolled through the china doors that led from the kitchen to the living room. Her red curls bounced as she carried the handheld phone in her hands, looking less than pleased.

“Val and Ashley keep calling. They can’t seem to get the hint that you were working today.

I kept telling them you’d call when you got off, that I’m waiting for a call from my boyfriend, but the phone just keeps ringing!” Patricia exclaimed, slamming the phone down on the counter in front of me.

Patricia had a boyfriend from Washington named Matt whom she had met on a field trip. He came to visit every few months, but they mostly kept their relationship thriving through numerous phone and Skype calls.

I couldn’t even begin to imagine Mom’s phone and internet bill.

But regardless of that, Patricia seemed pretty happy with Matt. Although I couldn’t say that I was a huge fan of him, Matt seemed to treat my little sister with respect.

That’s all I’d ever ask from any of her suitors.

“Well, did they say what was so urgent?” I pressed, raising an eyebrow at my flustered sister.

Patricia shrugged nonchalantly. “I don’t know.”

Helpful as ever, I thought.

Patricia was often a little selfish—narcissistic even—and I couldn’t quite figure out why she was so pigheaded as both my parents had done their best to raise us as respectable human beings.

I picked up the phone, dialed Val’s number with just my thumb, and made my way through the living room toward my bedroom. I was lucky enough to have one of the larger bedrooms although I was sure I didn’t need it.

There was a silence on the line before Val realized she had answered.

“Hey?” she asked, her voice distracted.

“What’s with all the calls today? Did someone die?” I asked, hoping that wasn’t the case.

Val laughed, and that made her focus her attention.

“Not unless I totally missed something! No, I was wondering if you had seen Aaron.”

I rolled my eyes. Yeah, I get that he had had some sort of big transformation, but why was he such big news?

“Yep, came into the store today,” I replied, sounding a bit sour.

Val took a deep breath. I could hear her draw it in very dramatically.

“Can I just say wow? Like, holy crap, Syb! You gotta get me his phone number…or like, tell him to add me on Facebook.”

“You’re kidding right?”

“Hardly. Oh, come on! You saw him! Can you blame me? Like, talk about total smoldering hotness.”

I could practically hear Val drooling over the phone.

“Can I please remind you of all the times Aaron used to make fun of you? Don’t you remember how you were the leader of the ‘I Hate Aaron Jachtel’ club?” I prodded.

Val laughed; the memory struck a nerve.

“Well, yeah, I remember. But that was so long ago, and Aaron’s obviously a different person now,” she said.

“Different? And you know this how?”

“He talked to me today when I was at Jake’s, said I looked good,” she said with the least amount of modesty I had ever heard.

“I find that hard to believe. Aaron isn’t much of a person to compliment.”

“He complimented me! What’s your deal, Syb? You’re more bitter than usual.”

“Nothing. I’m just not a fan. Listen, I’ll call you later, alright? I gotta give Ash a call too,” I said, chewing at my fingernails.

“She better not be asking for his number…” Val interjected just before I hung up.

Quickly, I punched in Ashley’s number, and it rang almost until the very last when she picked up.

“Please tell me you’re not on the Aaron bandwagon,” I complained, pinching the bridge of my nose.

“Are you kidding? Aaron is possibly one of the cruelest people I have ever met! Do you know what he said to Val today right in the middle of Jake’s?” she snapped.

“I’m guessing it wasn’t about her looking good,” I muttered.

“He flat out said she should learn to shut her fat fucking mouth. Can you believe that ass?” Ash exclaimed.

I raised an eyebrow. “Why did Val tell me he said she looked good? Is she in denial or something?”

“Probably. She hasn’t stopped talking about him. He asked her about the mountain, and she completely threw herself at him saying that she would love to take him up there. Then he just snapped at her!”

“What? Why?”

“I don’t know, I was wondering if you could tell me.”

“I have no idea. But I’m gonna figure it out.”

We talked for a bit longer, mostly about Val and her ways of being a hopeless romantic.

After our conversation ended, I couldn’t help but feel like I had to get to the bottom of this. Aaron wouldn’t just come to Bon Resi after all these years to inquire about the mountain. What was so important about it anyhow?

I didn’t call Val back that night, merely because I wasn’t in the mood to argue with her about Aaron.

Val had a tendency to throw herself at any half-decent-looking guy, and sometimes I wondered if that was merely because she’s insecure.

I hated thinking that my friend was desperate because Val, Ashley, and I had been friends our entire lives. I only hoped the best for them, and to see Val lying just to get attention seemed beyond desperate—it seemed delusional.

I knew that Val dreamed of having the perfect boyfriend, which she was yet to experience even once, but I wished she’d stop looking so hard.

I could remember my grandmother telling me quite clearly that I shouldn’t chase after guys, that the right one will come along when I was least expecting it.

I’d been on a few dates with guys, even had a short-term relationship with Jeremy List, but I’d never really thought of anyone I’d been with as someone I could spend the rest of my life with.

Living in such a small town, where you’d grown up with all of your potential suitors, I’d seen them go from nose-picking, scab-licking, peeing-in-the-sandbox types to guys who actually took care of themselves.

Sometimes I felt that made me a little biased toward the guys in Bon Resi, maybe a little too cautious. But my ever-believing best friend Val saw the best in everyone, and that was something I adored about her.

My other best friend Ashley Moore had been the luckiest of us three. She managed to hook in the only half-decent guy in all of Bon Resi, Colby Watson.

All the girls in town envied her to no end and often tried to convince Colby that Ashley was no good for him.

But after seeing them being together for almost two years, the girls seemed to have calmed down, and Colby seemed fairly committed to the idea of being with Ashley.

Ashley had a magnetic personality; she could have her pick of the litter when it came to men, but she always had a crush on Colby throughout middle school and high school. I was glad when her dream finally came true.

She had the most beautiful face I’d ever seen—even models couldn’t compare.

She was the perfect example of “the girl next door.” I always secretly felt a bit jealous of Ashley’s good looks, but I also reminded myself that I was not too bad looking either.

Val had a hard time throughout high school, especially when most of the other girls lost their baby weight at that point. People opted to tease her rather than use logic and reason.

Val’s entire family was on the larger side, and it was simply a case of genetics. In our senior year, Val started getting into fashion and really went out of her way to embrace her beauty.

That’s when she cut all of her hair off and decided she wanted a Victoria Beckham bob, and that she would only wear leggings and long shirts. Either way, Val was beautiful to me.

That night, as I lay in bed, I ran over ideas for Aaron’s strange arrival to our sleepy town. I crossed off him robbing a bank in the city as well as him running away from home.

I didn’t think he was running away from a girl; that just wasn’t his style.

I completely dismissed the idea of him trying to become a Buddhist or even some sort of religious recluse who wanted to live the life of a hermit on the mountain. Again, that just wasn’t Aaron’s style.

He was up to something, and I decided right then and there that I was determined to find out what it was.

When the next morning broke the dawn, I was happy knowing I didn’t have to work because it was Saturday.

I only had three days off a week, which I didn’t mind so much because sometimes I felt like Susan’s Deli got to be a little bit repetitive, and I very much enjoyed my time off.

Malcolm also liked to work the weekends as he spent most of the week working at the lumberyard four miles out of town. Maybe coming into the store was sort of like downtime for him.

So, along with getting the weekends off, I also got Wednesdays off because Malcolm got his niece to come in on Wednesdays to get some experience.

His niece, Andrea Townsend, was studying an online course that required her to clock in at least six hours a day; therefore, she was constantly behind her computer monitor.

Wednesday seemed to be the only day she could pull off working, so they made an agreement that she could work the one day a week.

I hated coming in the next morning after she had worked, mostly because it seemed like she barely cleaned up before closing.

As for anything like sorting receipts, checking inventory, basically any paperwork, those seemed to be too far-fetched for her.

This meant that I usually had to spend the next day not only doing things that were in her job description, but I had to do my own.

I remembered complaining about it once to Malcolm when Andrea first started working at Susan’s, but that was a big mistake.

He yelled at me for what felt like an hour, continuously telling me to mind my own business, that Andrea was simply getting adjusted. I hadn’t had the heart to tell him that she still hadn’t gotten her act together.

I got ready very quickly as I was meeting up with Ashley for our nature walk on the mountain trails, which barely could be considered mountains because the trails kept so close to the ground.

When I got out of the shower, I pulled my hair back into a loose ponytail, threw on a pair of gray sweatpants and a loose Oregon State navy hoodie, and slipped into my black and white Reeboks.

I tried my best to sneak through the house as quietly as I could.

But I would have to venture through the living room and just past the kitchen, where I knew undoubtedly my mom would be, sipping at her dark roast coffee.

I wasn’t much of a morning person, not so much because of how early it was, but more because I didn’t have much to talk about the first thing.

I could never understand how people had so much to say so early, when my brain hadn’t even turned on yet.

As I tried my best to sneak, I could hear the radio quietly whispering in the background.

I peeked over to my mom and saw that she looked horror-stricken. I stopped dead in my tracks, just barely picking up anything legible from the radio.

“Mom? What’s wrong?” I asked, afraid of the answer.

My mom slowly looked at me, her mouth agape and her eyes wide with shock. She ran her hand softly over her face as if she could simply wipe whatever was bothering her from her memory.

“I—I can’t believe it. Harold McGrath is dead,” she mumbled, and I could see the tears swelling in her eyes.

I could feel a chill crawl up my spine, and every hair on my body stood on end.

“What? What happened?” I declared, unsure of whether or not I wanted to know.

It couldn’t have just been simply a heart attack; it had to have been something bad because my mom would not react this way if it was just a natural cause.

She wiped the few loose tears from either of her cheeks, sniffling softly.

“‘Foul play,’ Constable Clarrens said. They said that it looks as if an animal also attacked Harold.

But they haven’t determined whether it was at the time of death or after. However, for precautionary reasons, they’re asking folks to stay away from the mountain,” Mom uttered, now eyeing my attire.

“What’s the mountain got to do with it?” I questioned, coming over to sit myself down on the empty barstool beside her at the island.

Mom sighed. “Apparently Harold decided to take a walk up to it sometime through the night, and that’s where it happened.”

I shook my head in disbelief.

This couldn’t just be a coincidence. All of a sudden, Aaron Jachtel came to town, after not coming for God only knew how long, without prior knowledge to Uncle Jess.

He learned that his favorite grape juice was no longer being produced (which shouldn’t be that big of a deal).

And he had been questioning just about everyone about the mountain. And now, the owner of the orchard that created this stupid juice, Harold McGrath, had suddenly died.

Foul play, animal attack… What on earth was going on in our quiet village of Bon Resi?