I promised Stella I’d pick up more diapers on my way home from the hospital, hoping Tish would be okay with stopping by the store. I had $38 to my name, money I’d stashed away a dollar at a time. It had taken almost a year to collect that much—Marek kept track of every penny that came through our tip baskets, but these dollars had come from services I’d provided off stage, like stitching up a torn bodice, babysitting an hour here or there, and covering a booth for a vendor every now and then. Marek had given me a ten-dollar-a-week diaper budget, but Killian went through that in about five days, so I spent a lot of my side earnings to make up the difference. Another good reason to potty train him, I knew.
“LB is starting to use the big-boy potty, so if you’d like, I can have Killian join us when we try,” Stella had offered. I’d balked for a moment, ever subconsciously wary about predators and sexual offenders, and then almost laughed at my hyped-up protective instincts. I was going to leave my child with this woman all day, have her change his diapers every couple of hours, but I didn’t trust her enough to have her initiate his potty training? What was wrong with me? Sometimes, I was sure I was going crazy.
“That would be awesome, Stella.”
“Well, let me tell you, boys tend to catch on much quicker when they’re competing or measuring up. By the time Jordan came along, he had to catch up to three boys before him. His older brothers broke him in—I was completely hands off with him.”
“Thanks, Mom. Nice visual, there,” Jordan said from behind me. I loved the way this family treated each other. Teasing and ribbing, but smoothing all the rough edges over with affection and loyalty.
The ride to the hospital wasn’t nearly as uncomfortable as I thought it would be after I ran from the kitchen and Jordan’s proposition. He turned on the radio and sang along with the music in a slightly off-key voice. He tried to get me to join in, but I shook my head. I felt an odd sense of detachment without Killian; the only time I spent apart from him was during my performances, and even then, half the time, I could see him running around at the back of the crowd with Pella in tow. The thought of him being a car’s drive away made my palms damp, and I kept rubbing my hands down my thighs.
“You all right?” Jordan finally asked. “You worried about that phone call?”
“A little,” I said. “And I’m not used to going anywhere without Killian.”
“He’ll be fine with Mom. You know that, right?”
I nodded, but before he could call me on it, I added, “I know that. He’ll be fine without me, but I don’t know how fine I’ll be without him.”
Jordan reached over and covered my hand where it rested on my lap. “You’ve got some catching up to do with your folks today. The time will fly by. Tish will come too soon, you’ll see.” He glanced over at me, and I smiled in agreement. He was probably right. “And the phone call? It might not have been him, you know. Your dad had just called and maybe he butt-dialed you by mistake.”
“He called from my mom’s room phone. No cell phones allowed up there…” I let the words trail off.
“Whoever it was didn’t say anything, right? Does that sound like something Marek would do? Call to talk to you and then say nothing at all?”
“Actually, I don’t really know. That’s what makes Marek… well, scary. He’s unpredictable. He purposely keeps me guessing. Half the time, I’m in trouble with him because I can’t figure out what he wants or what he’s going to do next, and even if I guess right, he’ll change directions just to mess with my head. So yeah, it makes perfect sense that it was him.” I resisted the urge to look over my shoulder. I never talked bad about Marek to anyone—he’d always warned me that he wouldn’t put up with me disrespecting him, that he had eyes and ears everywhere. “It was him, Jordan. We rarely perform on Mondays, so he’s got nothing better to do than torment me today. At least, that’s been his MO for the last year or so.” I let out a derisive snort. “He’s been pretty predictable about that, come to think of it.”
Jordan didn’t respond. When I looked over at him, his eyes were narrowed and his mouth drawn in a hard line. “I don’t want you answering that phone, Savannah. No matter what, okay? For now, as long as you’re not home alone, you’ll be safe. But we need to make some decisions about what you’re going to do soon, okay? Maybe even tonight? And that means you need to talk to your parents—or at least your dad—today while you’re there. He deserves to know what’s going on.”
“I know.” The thought of telling my parents everything still made me feel like a band was tightening around my throat—I didn’t know if I would be able to bear the hurt and disappointment in their eyes—but after the reception I’d had from them, from everyone, I knew I could do it.
“Do you want me to come by the hospital when I get off and talk to him with you? I won’t be finished today until four, so it would mean an extra hour for you, but you know I’ll be there.”
I knew part of his reason for asking was because he wanted to know the whole story, too, but I wasn’t planning on telling Dad everything until Mom was well enough to come home. Then I’d sit down with both of them and tell them everything. Today, I would just fill them in on the kind of person Marek was and my decision—or at least my growing determination—to get away from him. I seriously didn’t know how to legally keep Killian away from him, but now that I had a growing team of support, I was beginning to feel hopeful that there might be a way to at least limit the contact. Although, I couldn’t imagine Marek wanting Killian without me. In fact, I was pretty sure the only reason he claimed Killian was because he could use him to control me.
I knew Dad, being a pastor, had walked people through some crazy things in their lives. Jordan was right. He might have some connections that would be helpful for us. “It’s all right. I’m going to try to get it out of the way early. I feel like the sooner I do, the better we’ll all know how to proceed from here.”
After a brief pause, Jordan offered, “I can call off today if you want me with you.”
“No, don’t do that. I’ll be fine. I—I really do need to talk to my parents alone.” I turned my hand over and wrapped my fingers around his, not caring if he noticed my sweaty palms. “But I’ll call you after I do so you won’t be worried, okay? And maybe we can talk tonight.” I sighed, a little sad. “I wish my fairy boat was still hanging in the sycamore. I wonder what happened to it. We had some good talks in that thing, didn’t we?”
“Yeah, we did.” His voice was tender, remembering.
Jordan insisted on walking me all the way to my mother’s room. I was sure he was late already, but he would have it no other way. “Besides, I haven’t had a chance to see your mom yet.”
Mom looked better rested today, and she gave Jordan a lopsided smile. “Wow, Mrs. Clark. That thing is wicked. Have they let you see yourself yet?”
“They let me,” she croaked, “but I don’t want to look. I’ve seen your faces when you come visit, and I know it must be awful.”
Dad laughed. “Tish stopped by on her way to class about an hour ago, and she called Beatrice steampunk. I had to look it up to see what it meant.”
“Means you’re really hip, Mom.” I chuckled, grateful to see her so much more responsive and alert today.
Jordan left shortly, stopping at the door to make me promise I’d call him if I needed anything. “All you have to do is call, and I’ll come running…” he crooned off key as he walked away, making me giggle.
I returned to the bedside and sat down, resting my hand on Mom’s thigh. Dad reached over and covered my hand with his. Without any attempt at a segue, I whispered, “I don’t even have a picture to show you, Mom. They were all in my phone, and I left it—” My voice broke, and I started to cry, bowing my head in grief, both over the loss of the years with my family, and now the realization that I had no pictures of Killian from that time, either. Nothing to show them—or him one day—of how cute, fat, and dimply he was as a baby. Legally, the phone belonged to Marek, and I was sure I wouldn’t be getting it back. I’d never backed it up or sent those pictures to anyone else. All those photograph memories were gone.
I felt Mom’s hand on my cheek. “Then I guess you’d better start taking some new ones, sweetie.”
I straightened suddenly and swiped at my tears with both hands. “Wait. Dad, do you have your cell with you? I know you can’t use it in here, but I can take it out into the main corridor, right?”
“Absolutely. Once you clear the double doors out there, you’re good to go.” He leaned to one side to dig it out of his back pocket. “What do you have up your sleeve?” He handed it over to me without waiting for my explanation.
“Do you have Mrs. Ransome’s number in here? If not, I can call Jordan and get it.”
“I do. You don’t think we were going to let you date Jordan without having both his parents on speed dial, do you?” Dad winked at me and I stuck my tongue out at him, the way I used to when he teased me.
“Stella is number five,” Mom said. “I programmed it in for him.” Of course she had. Mom was the best unofficial secretary Dad could ever wish for.
“Well, she has Killian. She can take some pictures and send them to your phone!” I jumped up, leaned way over the bed, and kissed Mom very carefully on the chin. Hurrying from the room, I promised to be right back with a phone full of pictures to show Mom.