Don’t ignore your fears or you run the risk of letting them control you
during a survival situation.
My words stick in my throat. “What do you mean, you don’t know?”
Before I can answer, the phone rings.
Birdee picks it up and after a few words, smiles weakly. She holds out the phone, “It’s for you. It’s Mo.”
I can’t stand quick enough. But I refrain from jumping up and scaring the panther. Instead, I gently lay its head on the towel and fast-walk into Birdee’s office. “I’ll get it in here.”
My hand shakes as I pick up the phone. “Mo?”
“Hey blossom,” He says softly. “How are you?”
“Hey!” Hearing his voice makes my heart sing. I can’t hold back my smile. Though I don’t let Mo catch on to any of this. Ever since Mom and I came down here to live with Birdee, our relationship has been strained from the distance and stress. And I’m not sure how to fix that, considering this move is semi-permanent. But I don’t need to add to it by drilling him about it every time we talk. “Birdee says you found Al?”
He pauses for a second too long for my taste. It means he’s unsure of his answer. “Yes.”
“If he’s not in North Carolina, where is he?”
Mo clears his throat but it doesn’t wipe away his thick English accent. “He was spotted near Tallahassee.”
“Tallahassee?” My throat dries and I grip the edge of the table to keep me from tilting. “So he’s in Florida?” The thought of Al in the same state gives me the creeps.
He tries to make his voice sound upbeat but I can tell it’s strained. “Don’t worry. He doesn’t know anything about you and Birdee. We’ve seen to that.” Not only is Birdee’s house in her mother’s maiden name, but the FBI has performed tricks to eliminate any trace of me.
“O...kay. But what if he figures it out?” I say slowly, trying not to sound worried. I don’t know what I’ll do if Al shows up. The thought of seeing his face again makes me cringe.
“He won’t,” Mo says. “Trust me.”
I swallow the lump in my throat. I do trust him. It’s Al I don’t trust.
Both of us go silent. Not much to talk about when a mad man is on the loose and 800 miles keep us apart. It’s funny how distance changes a relationship so fast. Not because feelings change, but because you aren’t there for the little moments anymore. You don’t get time to share the random thoughts that spring through your mind at crazy times. There’s pressure to deliver great and happy conversation each time you talk on the phone. But in my mind, most good relationships are built on a string of small moments, not a tapestry of big ones.
I decide to change the subject. Our relationship feels strained as it is. Maybe we need to lighten up some.
“So, how are you? Sweeney working you hard?”
Mo laughs a little but I still hear the tension. Like a chain on a butterfly. But then he says, “Abso-bloodly-lutely”, and I can tell he’s smiling.
Then I hear him suck in a breath. My heart sinks. He’s probably as uncomfortable and as sad and as frustrated as I am. Knowing that the thing keeping us apart isn’t going away any time soon. And until it does, Sweeney wants us to stay away from each other so there’s no chance Al can find me. At least not before they find him first.
I’m not 100% convinced he won’t. My luck hasn’t been too great this last year.
“I miss you,” Mo blurts out.
And there it is.
As always, Mo is the first to crack through the wall that I’ve spend so much time building and repairing and patching.
I clear my throat as tears prick my eyes. “Me too.”
He waits as if to let my response sink in. “I mean... a lot.”
I smile and wipe one lone tear that has snuck out of hiding. “Ditto.”
I want to say more but I don’t know what to say. I’m lost without you. Will we ever be together again? Do you still love me? Will I ever be safe again? Instead, I remain still. Quiet. Guarded. Afraid. That’s what my life as turned into since meeting Al last fall. Since losing my dad and Seth. Since moving here.
A whole mess of fear.
“Are you okay?” he asks.
I force myself to connect, to say anything that will mean something. “I’d feel much better if I had a strong, young, handsome agent by my side. Probably safer too.”
“I’m not an agent yet.”
“If you keep working this hard, it’s only a matter of time.”
This backfires and makes Mo exhale in frustration. “Not sure I want to anymore. It keeps me away from you.”
This melts my heart so I step out a little and throw a lifeline. “I love you, Mo.”
“I love you too, Blossom. I wish so much I could come and visit. But Sweeney doesn’t want me anywhere near you. And I don’t blame him. So far, I haven’t exactly made your life easy. In fact, some may think I’ve made it worse.”
My voice shakes as I force out words. “No. Don’t say that. You’ve made it better.” He has no idea!
“Not sure anyone else agrees with you. Not Birdee. Not Sweeney...” He pauses. “Not even me.”
The words slice through my heart like a knife through flesh. They hit me hard and force me to fall back in the chair. I check over my shoulder to see if Birdee’s listening. Or worse, Petey.
I play off what he said and try to lighten the mood. “Man, you are so drama. I’m fine, and I’m better with you. How about if you sneak away and drive 800 miles for a kiss?”
This time he laughs hard. “On your bike.”
“Nah, a bike would take too long.” I smile at Mo’s silly English phrase, which means absolutely nothing in translation. A poor alternative to America’s popular F off. “A car might be much faster.”
“You’re a silly billy, Grace Wells.” Mo says. I can hear the smile in his voice. My spirits lift again. I can still make him happy, so maybe there’s hope for us yet. “And I love you for it.”
“I hope there’s more than that.”
“So much more,” he whispers. “Look. This will all end soon. Then I promise I’ll take some time and come down. We can go fishing.”
“You mean, I can fish; you can try.” A flashback of when I first met him pops in my head. He was a bait fisherman—the total opposite of my flyfishing—but he was cute. Some things I can overlook.
“Very funny.” His voice sounds a bit hurt but maybe he’s playing. That’s the thing with the phone or email—you can’t tell, so it makes you paranoid. I bet most of the time when my feelings are hurt by something he writes or says, it could have been solved with a face-to-face conversation instead. Still, I can’t help but want to assure him about us. Maybe it will assure me too.
“I love fishing with you, among other things,” I say. “Or we could go alligator wrestling. Dylan’s been teaching me.”
“Don’t let him teach you too much,” Mo grumbles. “Or I’ll have to come down and help him learn a hard lesson.”
“Oh brother.” I giggle at his overprotectiveness. “So that’s what it’s going to take to get you down here? Anyway, he has a girlfriend.”
“What’s she like?”
I decide against mentioning my attendance at the protest with Uncle Bob. No need to worry Mo more than he already is. “She saves animals and he twists alligators in figure 4s so I guess they’re perfect for each other.”
“So are we, Grace.” Mo covers the phone but I can still hear murmuring in the background. “Crumbs, I gotta go. Sweeney’s calling me. He’ll kill me if he knows I’m talking to you. Even if it is from a payphone.”
“They still have those?” My words are light, but they feel heavy on my tongue. I know Sweeney’s only protecting me—like he has been for months now—but he’s starting to get on my nerves. Going days or weeks without talking to Mo is wearing me down. “We’ll talk soon, right?”
“I hope so. I’ll try. You just be safe. Lay low and don’t do anything...impulsive.”
“Me? Never.” I sit up straight and wish I could think of something important to say so he stays on the phone. Something profound. Something that leaves us feeling good about each other. But I got nothing. “If you hear of—”
“—If I hear of anything, I promise, I’ll let you know. Bye Grace.” Then he simply hangs up.
“Bye,” I whisper to dead air and poke the OFF button, severing the only connection Mo and I have right now. All the things I wish I’d told him stream through my head. Why I didn’t tell him about the alligator Dylan attacked? Or the panther we saved? Maybe if we talked about something other than Al and the case, it would do us some good.
My dad always said, what you focus on gets bigger.
And he’s right.
Petey squawks from the corner, “I love you.” Then he makes kissing noises.
I throw a pencil at him and lower my voice so Birdee doesn’t hear me. “Someday, you’ll make a nice pillow, Petey.”
He squawks, “Mayday, mayday.”
Birdee races into the room rubbing a dishtowel between her hands. “Good night, what’s all the racket?”
“Your loud bird. What else?”
Petey flies over my head and lands on her shoulder. She gives him a sunflower seed and eyes me.
I avoid the stare and leave the room. I bend over and crawl up to the panther, still sleeping, and lie next to her.
Birdee follows me with her hands on her hips. Her bright blue eyes are thin slits, telling me she’s assessing me and my actions. “What happened?”
I shrug, playing down my feelings. Sometimes I get tired of talking about them. Tired of me. “Nothing. I just miss Mom and Mo. Hate being sequestered down here. Away from them.”
Birdee sits on the chair. “Is that how you feel? Sequestered?” Voices from the T.V. hum in the background, but I don’t listen.
The hurt in Birdee’s eyes is obvious. She doesn’t deserve my ungrateful attitude. “You know what I mean. I love being with you. Here. But I miss Mo. I miss Mom. I want to go home. To my home. I know we’d all be together if it wasn’t for the mess I’ve made over the last year.”
She reaches over and strokes my hair. “I fail to see how this mess is all your fault. Katie was bat-shit crazy and Al’s the wackadoo. As far as I’m concerned, you’re the only who’s done anything worth a damn. The only one’s who’s done the right thing. Selfless things. You’ve sacrificed more than anyone...and I’m sorry you’re scared.”
I glance up at her. “I didn’t say I was scared.”
“You didn’t have to, Chicken.”
To avoid showing her what’s really going on inside, I bury my head in the panther’s yellow fur. Birdee’s right. I am scared. All the time. Day or night. I try to pretend like I’m not because it all seems too unreal. Too crazy. People stalking teens doesn’t happen to small-town people like me. Or does it? It always feels so farfetched when I watch a news story on the T.V.—a missing kid or a tragic accident—but somehow, that craziness is now happening to me. Only I can’t turn the channel.
That familiar lump expands in my throat. No use crying. Tears never wash away anything anyway. All they do is make things more real and make you feel weak. Conquered. Vulnerable.
Right now, I need to be strong. Or at least try and act it. Dad always said we gotta fake it ‘til we make it.
I’m just getting tired of faking.
“You think this will ever be over?” I gently stroke the panther’s head. “That Al will ever get locked up for good?”
“I hope so.” Birdee hugs me from behind. “For all of our sakes, but especially for you.”
I rub circles along my forehead. “Why is this happening to me? What did I do wrong?”
“Nothing. But there’s no use feeling all sorry for yourself. Moping about. It doesn’t help you or anyone. Nothing’s happening now anyway, except maybe dinner. Food will cheer you up.”
Pretty sure meatballs and green beans aren’t the key to happiness. “I’m not hungry.”
“Not even for this?” Birdee holds out a Mint Chocolate MoonPie.
I sit up and smile. “Oh, well...I’d never turn down one of those.”
“Didn’t think so.” She hands it to me. “Don’t worry, Chicken. Everything will work out.”
I open the package and take a bite of my favorite treat. “I want to live my life without always looking over my shoulder.”
“For now, you’ll have to live and focus forward. You’re safe here.”
She glances over and the TV and grabs the remote. “What’s this?”
I catch the leftover new story from Sadie’s protest and cringe when I see myself walk up next to her. Almost don’t recognize myself. My hair looks longer.
Birdee listens to the protest and the commenters talking about Sadie’s young age. “That girl is ballsy. I’ll say that. Don’t care how young she is, she has done more in a month for this world than any of the bozos in suits.”
Then it cuts to a couple pictures, of a boy and girl. She holds the remote close to her eyes until she finds the volume button and makes the TV louder.
“This is another reported teen runaway that has gone missing. First there was Joey Miller. He left his parents’ home and lived on the streets for a while before disappearing. Then there was Parker Neill who broke out of rehab and was never seen again. Now, Annie Christopher, a well-known local runaway, is nowhere to be found. More on this story at eleven.”
“Good lord. What is going on with this world these days? I can’t even watch the news anymore. It’s either too depressing or too scary.” Birdee tosses the remote on the table and heads into the kitchen.
Once she’s out of sight, I glance out the window at the dark swamps that lie beyond her borders. An owl hoots in the distance and the crickets chirp. I think about everything she said. I’m sure she’s right. Yet something in my gut tells me that things may not work out the way she wants them too.
Sometimes things get messy before they get clean.