Susan was on a tear. It had been a long time since Jada had seen her mother’s simmering resentment explode into outright anger, but she was going to be late opening the store today, and even that didn’t seem to matter. Learning that Tobias had confronted Atticus at the Blue Suede Shoe Saturday night had pushed her over the edge.
“He’s back? In Silver Springs?” She stopped doing dishes to shift her attention from Atticus, who was sitting at the breakfast table, to Jada, who was standing at the toaster.
“Don’t look at me,” Jada said. “I didn’t invite him to town.”
Her eyes narrowed as if Jada was somehow responsible. “But you probably don’t mind that he’s back, just like you don’t mind that his handsome brother is back.”
“Let’s leave Maddox out of this.” Jada had just dropped Maya off at a swim party one of the boys she’d met at school last spring was throwing. She was glad her daughter wasn’t around to hear this. Had Maddox told their mother yesterday, she would’ve been. Jada wasn’t sure why he’d waited. Maybe he’d been wrestling with himself.
“You want to continue to pretend that his presence in this town isn’t a problem?” Susan cried. “That it doesn’t risk the one thing you love more than anything else—your own daughter?”
Problem was...her daughter also happened to be his daughter. That should matter. In any other situation, it would matter a great deal, even to her mother. But it almost seemed as though her mother was getting some form of enjoyment from withholding something so precious, something he would want, if only he knew. Jada hated that as much as everything else about her predicament. “He hasn’t caused any trouble.”
“He could—that’s the point. And now his no-good, lousy brother is back, too!”
Jada was tempted to reassure her that Tobias was in town only temporarily, that Maddox was working on trying to help him get a job as well as a place to stay in LA, but that would reveal that she knew far more about the Richardson brothers than she should, and she’d already heard the accusation in her mother’s voice. Her mother could tell that, deep down, she still cared about Maddox. “Tobias was trying to apologize,” she said. “He didn’t mean any harm.”
“Don’t make it sound as though he was being nice.” She wagged a wet, soapy finger at Jada. “He was relieving his own conscience, trying to get Atticus to forgive him so that everyone else will do the same. Maybe it’s because he plans to stay here, and he thinks it will make things easier for him. Regardless, he can’t simply say he’s sorry for what he did. Atticus has to live with the consequences of that night. It doesn’t just go away.”
“I’m sure Tobias understands that. I don’t think he expects to be forgiven—”
“Don’t stand up for him!” she broke in. “Where’s your loyalty to your own family, for God’s sake?”
That was exactly what she’d said thirteen years ago when Jada had wanted to tell Maddox she was pregnant. Here she was, in the middle again, wanting to try to convince her family not to hate Maddox, regardless of what they thought of his brother. But she knew it was a waste of breath. They saw him as an integral part of what happened, and she couldn’t say he wasn’t.
“I’ve been doing everything I can to support the family,” she said as her toast popped up. Didn’t she get any credit for what she’d contributed recently? For how hard she’d tried to relieve her mother’s workload since her father died, help with the bills, make sure the store remained afloat?
“What, exactly, did he say to you?” Jada asked, turning to Atticus. After Tobias had walked out of the bar, Atticus had demanded they leave, too. He hadn’t been willing to repeat what Tobias had said to him, even though Jada had asked about it, over and over, while they drove home and several times yesterday, as well.
Atticus dropped his head in his hands and kneaded his forehead as if he was feeling more than a little regret for starting this. “You heard what I said to Mom. He told me he was sorry.”
“He was there a bit longer than ‘I’m sorry.’”
“That was the gist of it.”
Obviously, her brother was conflicted. Right when he’d been celebrating a major victory, he’d been confronted by the man who’d shot him. Tobias’s sudden appearance had come as a complete surprise. Besides that, Atticus probably felt terrible for the hate and anger that lived inside him still. He didn’t want to forgive, just wanted to move on and forget, as much as possible, that there was this person in the world who’d senselessly caused him so much pain and hardship, living and breathing and trying to fulfill his own needs.
“Now that he’s had his say, maybe that’ll be the end of it.” As upset as she was inside, Jada was trying to calm everyone down so that things wouldn’t get any worse. “Maybe we can all try to put the past behind us and...and begin to heal.”
“This again?” Susan snapped.
Jada widened her eyes. “What else can we do?”
“It’s just awfully convenient that you keep suggesting we move on, since you aren’t the one in the wheelchair.”
“You think it’s been easy on me?”
“I don’t care, since you’re the reason we’re in this situation to begin with!”
Something snapped inside of Jada. Stunned by the vitriol behind those words, she dropped her toast on the plate where she’d just buttered it.
Susan seemed to realize that perhaps she’d gone too far because she suddenly looked uncertain, on the brink of tears, but Jada knew she’d meant what she said. It was how her mother had felt all along.
Jada looked from Susan to Atticus, who flinched. “She’s just upset, Jada,” he said.
“So am I,” she responded.
“Where are you going?” Susan asked as Jada tossed her uneaten toast in the trash.
“If there is no forgiveness, if I, Maddox and Tobias are terrible people forever because of the unfortunate and stupid decisions we made one night—when we weren’t even eighteen—then what am I doing here?”
“Jada...” Atticus started to wheel closer to her, but she thrust out a hand to stop him.
“I’m sorry, Atticus. I would apologize every day if I thought it would help. But, as you say, nothing can change what happened that night, or the blame Maddox, Tobias and I bear because of it. You shouldn’t have to put up with any of us. So Maya and I are moving out.”
Susan gaped at her. “But where will you go?”
“If I had my way, we’d go back to LA.”
“You’d take your daughter away from a loving grandmother? Away from her uncle and...and her best friend, right before school is about to start?”
“You didn’t want her in the first place, remember?” Jada said. “Anyway, I’ll do what’s best for Maya, because no one loves her more than I do. But I deserve some consideration, too. Good luck at the store today. If you need help, Atticus will have to step up for a change, because I won’t be there. I’ve fallen so far behind on my own work, trying to help you, that I doubt I’ll ever catch up.”
“Jada, don’t do this.” A pained expression contorted Atticus’s handsome face, but Jada had no choice. She was beginning to wonder how she’d survived living with her mother for the past six months. She’d been trying so hard to atone for her past mistakes, she hadn’t realized that her mother’s disapproval and refusal to forgive was sucking all the joy out of life.
“I can’t continue to live with Mom, even if you can. You’re her favorite, after all. She coddles you like a child, which I think is ridiculous and the last thing you need. So I won’t stick around and watch it any longer,” she said and went to her room to pack.
When Mrs. Coates picked up Maya and Annie from the swim party, she said she had to stop by New Horizons to check on a delivery for the music department, since the music teacher was stuck at home with a sick baby, which was fine by Maya. Especially because Annie’s mom said that, while she was busy, they could walk around campus and find their classes. Although Maya had decided she’d have to wait until school started to talk to Mrs. Turner about her father, it looked like she might have the opportunity sooner than that.
As soon as Mrs. Coates went into the building, Maya and Annie headed straight for the boys’ side.
There weren’t a lot of students on that campus right now, not as many as during the winter, but it was a year-round school for some, so it wasn’t empty, either. Not like the girls’ side.
A fence separated the two schools, or halves of one school, which made Maya fear they’d have to walk back the way Mrs. Coates had driven and circle around—until she spotted a gate. Because the girls’ side wasn’t yet in session, it stood open to make it easier for Mr. Richardson and his faculty to get back and forth whenever they needed to.
Maya glanced at Annie as she slipped through first. “Mrs. Turner’s office has to be in that building over there, don’t you think?” She pointed at what looked like a small but important building next to a large parking lot.
“I think so, too, since that’s where it would be at any other school,” Annie replied, but her steps were slowing.
“What’s wrong?” Maya asked.
Annie bit her lip. “I’m afraid we’ll get caught on the wrong side of the fence when my mom comes out.”
“She didn’t say we couldn’t go over to the boys’ side. It’s not like we’re going to talk to any of the students.”
“I know, but...”
Maya gave her a pleading look. “I only need five minutes of Mrs. Turner’s time. We’ll be back before your mother knows we’re gone.”
“I hope so. I don’t want my mom to ground me from the first dance or something, especially because we don’t know that Mrs. Turner will be able to tell us anything. No one else has been able to.”
“If anyone can help us it’s her.” Maya spoke with more confidence than she felt, but Mrs. Turner did seem to know a lot of people.
Although Annie fell silent, she allowed Maya to drag her along; Maya was relieved for that.
A gray-haired receptionist—the sign on her desk read Betty May—looked up as soon as they entered the administration building. Maya felt so self-conscious in that moment that she almost grabbed Annie’s arm and dragged her right back out. She would have, except she knew she might never have a better opportunity to speak to Mrs. Turner. Once school started, the gate they’d used would be closed and probably locked, which would at the very least make it harder instead of easier.
“How can I help you?” Mrs. May was obviously surprised to see two young women walk in without an adult.
Maya rested her hands on the partition that separated the receptionist area from the waiting area. “I was hoping I could speak to Mrs. Turner.”
Mrs. May moved her coffee cup to one side so she wouldn’t knock it over when she stood up. “Can I tell her what this is about?”
Maya glanced at Annie with a silent question—Should I go through with it?
Annie gave her a “this was your idea” look and shrugged.
Feeling somewhat caught, anyway, Maya drew a deep breath. “Do we have to say?”
The woman’s eyebrows, which had been drawn on with a brown pencil, rose almost to her hairline. “Um, I’m not sure, to be honest. I’ve never had anyone ask me that question. Can I get your names?”
“Maya Brooks.” Although Maya had met Aiyana at the cookie store, she doubted her name would mean much to such an important person. She didn’t want to say Annie’s name—especially her last name. Mrs. Turner would immediately recognize it since Annie’s mother did so much volunteering at the school, and Maya didn’t want to get her friend in trouble.
“Just a minute.”
Betty May plodded to the back of the central area and knocked on a door.
Maya couldn’t hear everything that was said, but she thought she made out her name. She held her breath, hoping Mrs. Turner would agree and have time to see her, and sagged in relief as the receptionist returned. “Right this way,” she said, beckoning them toward her.
Annie chickened out at the last second. “I’ll wait for you here,” she said and sat in one of the plastic chairs lining the wall.
Maya didn’t have a chance to try to persuade her. She was too interested in seeing if she could find out more about her father to risk missing this opportunity. So she threw back her shoulders and followed Mrs. May into the corner office.
Mrs. Turner was coming around the desk as Maya entered. “Maya. How are you?”
Maya nearly missed a step. She hadn’t expected such a friendly reception, but she was glad for it. It gave her courage. “Good.”
“Are you looking forward to coming to New Horizons?”
“I am.”
“How’s everything at home?”
“Fine.”
“I hear your grandmother is now serving ice cream sandwiches made with her famous cookies.”
“She is.”
“I bet those are good. What a brilliant idea!”
“I’m the one who thought of it.” Maya felt herself blush after she said that. It sounded like she was bragging, but she was just excited her idea had worked out.
Fortunately, Mrs. Turner didn’t seem to disapprove. If anything, her smile grew wider. “Then your grandmother was smart to listen to you.”
Maya shifted from one foot to the other but couldn’t decide how to get started on what she’d come to say. “We were hoping we’d be able to sell more cookies that way.”
“And? Have you?”
She nodded.
“There you go. Wonderful all the way around.” Mrs. Turner waved to a chair. “Would you like to sit down?”
“No, thanks. I just...” She curled her fingernails into her palms. “I wanted to ask you something real quick.”
Mrs. Turner leaned against her desk. “What is it?”
“I hope it’s okay that I’m here.”
“Of course it is. What did you want to ask me?”
“I was wondering if...if you knew my father.”
Mrs. Turner blinked several times. “Excuse me?”
“You’ve lived in this town a long time, so I thought you might have met him.”
She straightened. “But your father isn’t from here. Your mother married him after she moved to LA.”
“That was Eric. He wasn’t my father—just my stepdad. I never got to meet my real dad. My mother said he died in a motorcycle accident before I was born.”
“In LA?”
“No, right here in Silver Springs.”
Looking confused, Mrs. Turner scratched her arm. “I thought... Well, I assumed that Eric was your father.”
“So you don’t know anything about my real dad...”
“I don’t think so. What was his name?”
“Madsen something.” Maya felt her face heat when she had to add, “My mother doesn’t remember his last name.”
Mrs. Turner stared at her for several seconds. Then she smoothed her skirt, and the way she did it, so carefully, gave Maya the impression she was stalling for time, trying to think it over. “And your grandmother? What does she say?”
“What do you mean?”
“Does she also say that your father died in a motorcycle accident?”
Maya racked her brain, trying to remember what her grandmother had said over the years. It wasn’t a lot; she didn’t seem to care for the subject. “I guess. She’s never said he didn’t.”
“And your uncle Atticus?”
“He doesn’t act like he ever knew him, but he took me to the library so I could look for some information on him not too long ago. I wanted to see if there was a list of people who lived in the area way back then so I could get his last name, but there wasn’t such a thing.”
“I see.” She peered at Maya a little closer. “When were you born, dear?”
“August 26. I’ll be turning thirteen right after school starts.”
Mrs. Turner used her fingers to count back nine months. “That means your mother got pregnant in...” Suddenly, her voice dropped off and she didn’t complete her sentence.
“November,” Maya supplied. “I’ve done the math. My father would’ve had to be living here in November the year before I was born.” She felt a bubble of excitement. This was the first time she hadn’t received an immediate no. Maybe coming here wouldn’t be a waste; maybe Mrs. Turner had just needed a few details to jog her memory.
“Oh dear,” she said.
Eager to understand what the shocked look on her face meant, Maya stepped closer. “You remember a Madsen?”
The warm smile Mrs. Turner had worn when Maya first arrived reappeared. “No. Actually, I don’t.”
Maya felt her shoulders slump. “Really? But... I thought...”
“I’m sorry,” she said. “It took me a moment, but I realize now that I was remembering someone else.”
“Not a Madsen.”
“Definitely not a Madsen.”
Something strange was going on, but Maya couldn’t figure out what. “You never heard of a young man dying on a motorcycle that year?”
“No,” she replied firmly.
“Do you know anyone else who lived here back then I could ask?”
“Not off the top of my head, but...I’ll call if I happen to think of anyone.”
There was nothing Maya could do except leave, even though she felt Aiyana knew something she wasn’t saying. “Thanks for letting me ask.”
She was walking out when Mrs. Turner spoke again. “I wish I could’ve been more help, Maya.”
“It’s okay,” she muttered. “I guess if he’s dead I should try to forget about him. It’s just that...well, everyone else knows more about their dad than I do mine. I want to know what he looked like at least. Or if he had any family. If so, maybe I could meet them someday.”
“I hope you find your answers,” she said, her voice so soft and caring that it made Maya wonder if she’d imagined Mrs. Turner’s odd reaction a moment before. “Something tells me he is—was—a man worth knowing.”
“Thank you,” she said.