Scrapes
The thing about time is that it’s evil. While I was wretched with grief and self-loathing, the minutes of every day stretched into eternity. Time dragged in endless, unchanging cycles of torture and regret. Not long ago, I woke up and the pain eased for five minutes. I became blissfully happy and time lurched forward, slipping through my fingers faster than I could hold on. I ached for more time, but there wasn’t more.
I held the door to White Water Coffee open for Pru. She blinked at the blazing sunlight and pumped her straw through the thick, ice-blended coffee. “I can’t believe summer’s almost over. It just started.”
“Not really. You have another month.” If only Cross had another month. I examined my henna-covered palm. The delicate lines lightened more every day. I wouldn’t miss hiding one hand from my new work-from-home dad, but they represented my time with Cross. Proof he was real. Soon enough, I’d wonder if I imagined him. I missed Cross already.
Dad and his posse were at our house, plotting impenetrable plans in which the Lovells and other shows like theirs could never sully this fine town again.
Pru pressed her ice-cold cup against my bare arm. “Why are you smiling?”
“Hey!” I jumped. “Dork.”
“Nerd.”
A group of locals watched as we moseyed toward home. I pressed my arms to my sides, hoping my scars didn’t offend them. My fingers tugged the hem of my shorts. The few cuts I’d made on my thighs were light. Even with a tan, they were nearly invisible. “Are they looking at us?”
Pru spun and stared. “I don’t know. Maybe. We are hot.”
I laughed. “I’m not convinced that’s why they’re looking.”
She shook her cup and tried the straw again. “Who cares?”
I cared. Nothing good started with a group of gawking people.
My mind wandered to Cross. Memories of his touch warmed my skin. He wanted me. Scars and all. Since that night, I’d braved my old wardrobe. Wearing shorts and T-shirts on sweltering days was liberating. I’d never appreciated temperature-appropriate attire before. Even with my scars unmasked, people mostly looked at my hair.
A few girls gasped.
Mark Dobbs jogged onto the sidewalk and froze. He cursed under his breath and his eyes narrowed on me. “I can’t seem to get away from you these days.” Red basketball shorts hung to his calves. His high-tops were unlaced. Everything about him was overconfident and assuming, like his T-shirt. White letters dared “Bring it.”
I frowned but kept my mouth shut. Pru stepped off the sidewalk and into the street, I followed. No need to stand outside Red’s and argue about nothing.
Mark called our names until we stupidly turned back. He widened his stance and pressed giant palms over his hips. A few people drifted into earshot, hoping for a showdown on Main Street, no doubt. Golden Boy Jr. verses the pastor’s daughters. Who would win? It was anyone’s fight.
I sighed. “It was such a gorgeous day three seconds ago.”
Mark shook his angry face. “Jesus, Mercy. I taunt you for being like your sister and instead of proving me wrong, you keep upping the game. You cut your hair now? Put on some short-shorts? Stupid.” He smacked his head. “So unbelievably stupid. Worse, you’re screwing the circus freak.”
Pru snorted.
I blanched.
Mark scanned the crowd, steadily growing more frustrated and angry.
Pru’s snort was poorly timed.
“That’s right, Prudence. You come from a long line of loose-legged ladies. I’d tell you to learn a lesson from them, but I heard about you and Jason already.” He tipped his head and shrugged. “Hey, at least he’s not a freak.”
Pru stumbled back as if Mark had gutted her. She wasn’t made for confrontation. She smiled through schoolyard teasing and won people over with her charm. Mark wasn’t like the others, and he was way too old for a schoolyard. Mark was devious and enraged.
I stepped in front of her. “Knock it off, Mark.”
Shock registered in his cocky expression. He’d expected me to run. I would’ve if he’d left Pru out of it.
“You were a nice girl once. What happened? What is it about those freaks?” He moved closer. “You’re all dressed up. No more hoodies and baggy jeans? Are you meeting your boyfriend?” He glanced over his shoulder at the little crowd of onlookers outside Red’s. “He’s kind of old for you, isn’t he? What do you see in him?” A flurry of emotions flashed through his eyes. “I don’t understand you. First you curl up and disappear. Disengage. Leave. Then the circus comes back to town and you’re out every day. You’re making house calls to anyone willing to talk with you about the most horrible thing that’s ever happened to St. Mary’s. You’re stirring up trouble, and you’re walking around like you have no effing clue. What is wrong with you?”
I gaped. “My sister died.” I stood straighter, pressing back seething words. “Her death didn’t happen to St. Mary’s. It happened to me. I grieved and I’m healing. What I don’t understand is what any of it has to do with you. What’s your problem? Huh?”
His eyes slid over me like I was naked. Could he tell what I’d done with Cross? Did someone know and tell him? I was different and somehow he could see it.
I hadn’t told anyone, not even Pru.
I wetted my lips and lowered my voice. “I don’t know why you hate me, and I’m sorry that you do, but you need to leave Pru alone.” Pru was stuck here with this lunatic for two more years. She shouldn’t have to navigate his wrath. “She’s never done anything to you.”
He scoffed. “That’s right. You get to leave.”
My forehead pinched. No one was stopping him, were they?
A rumble inside Red’s drew my attention. Mark headed for the door, overcome immediately by a giant shadow with an awkward gait.
Brady burst past him onto the sidewalk, slurring and staggering. “There you are.”
Pru grabbed my elbow. “Uh-oh. Drunk before lunch again?”
I couldn’t speak or move. Brady’s glassy eyes roamed over my bare limbs. Skin I hadn’t exposed in years ached for cover.
He stumbled off the curb and nearly fell on me. “I loved her.” He lifted a finger to my hair and I stepped away. “You cut it just like her. Why?”
I gathered my courage and ignored the blatant onlookers. “Time for a change.”
Mark grabbed Brady’s arm. “Come on, man. People are staring.”
I guffawed. “You didn’t mind them staring at me while you called Pru and me names.”
Brady slapped Mark’s hands away. “You called her names?”
“Nah. I just... I wanted her to go away. She’s freaking everywhere.”
Brady’s long arms snapped out and grabbed my wrists. “Tell her I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make her sad. I didn’t mean for her to go. She didn’t believe me, but you believe me, don’t you?”
His speed had caught me off guard. I wobbled into Pru, and she fell with a screech.
Anton dashed out of Red’s and into the street. His hands clamped down on Brady’s shoulders. “Let her go.”
Mark grabbed Anton and was deflected without comment, like a bug. Mark swore. Loudly.
Brady’s head swung in a lazy arc, looking for the problem. His eyes widened. “You!” He growled. “You no good piece of… You ruined my life!”
The door to Red’s swung open again. This time Cross appeared. Confusion turned to rage as he took in the scene. Pru sat on the ground, screaming for Brady to let me go. Brady’s huge hands formed shackles around my wrists, tugging and pushing me in time with his movements. Cross’s expression turned feral. He rushed into the mix, eyes blazing.
Anton shoved Mark onto the pavement and focused on Brady. “Get your hands off her. Now.”
Mark scrambled to his feet and went for Cross’s legs. His favorite football tackle. Except Cross lifted a knee into his mouth and Mark crumpled onto the pavement. Again.
Pru jumped into the action, digging her nails into Brady’s fingers and my wrists. “Let her go!”
Cross’s arm snapped back and rocketed forward, connecting with Brady’s chin, sending his weight into me.
Pru landed on the ground a third time. Brady and I crashed over her like dominoes. The sick thud and crunch of bone meeting asphalt sent ice fingers over my neck.
Tears sprang forward. “Pru?”
Brady crawled onto his knees.
I cradled Pru’s body in my arms as she cried.
The four guys wrestled over the dotted yellow line and onto the sidewalk. Brady couldn’t walk a straight line, but he kept the punches coming. Cross took several hits, preoccupied with my safety.
“Are you okay?”
I rocked Pru and held her close. “Look out!”
These were not the memories I wanted to share with my sister. What had happened to our lives?
The sharp bark of a police siren split the air, rousing and directing more onlookers to the scene. The increasing crowd closed in on us, snapping pictures and recording the humiliation with their phones. Chaos filled the street.
I pulled Pru to her feet and checked for cuts. She was dirty, embarrassed, and sore, but she’d live. Cross wrangled Mark’s arms behind his back and Anton blocked Brady’s sloppy punches with ease.
Brady didn’t slow down when the police arrived. “She loved me. You should’ve left her alone. Why didn’t you leave her alone?”
Anton grimaced. “I’m sorry, man. Calm down.”
A deputy shoved his way into the mess and latched onto Cross’s arm with one hand. He pressed his free hand against his sidearm. “Let Mark go and step away, son.”
Cross dropped Mark’s arms and stepped back, palms up, as if he’d done something wrong. As if he wasn’t defending two girls from two complete ogres.
The deputy motioned to his cruiser. “Over there, son. I need your identification.” He turned to Brady with exasperation before raising his eyes to Anton. “Let him go.”
At some point, Anton had twisted Brady into a sleeper hold.
Brady fought with his words. “Arrest him,” he screamed. Fatigue decreased his struggle, but not his passion. “Arrest him. This son of a bitch ruined my life. Make him pay!”
The deputy slipped between Anton and Brady. He instructed Anton to wait with Cross and then he turned to Pru and me. “You ladies okay?”
We nodded.
The deputy ran a hand through his hair. “Did Brady touch you?”
Adrenaline spiked in my brain. I nodded. “Yeah.”
“Did he hurt you?”
I rubbed my aching wrists, unable to respond. A man had attacked me. Someone I knew. Devastation rolled through me. I never wanted to see the Dobbs boys again. Ever. I’d go ten blocks out of my way to avoid them.
I wrapped an arm around Pru’s shoulders, wishing I could take her to college with me. Leaving her in town with them seemed stupid. Something was dangerously wrong with that family.
The deputy approached me with a cocked eyebrow. “Do you want to press charges?”
“What? No. I just want to go home.”
He nodded. Something in his posture said this wasn’t the first time Brady had needed an intervention. The deputy lifted a phone to his lips. “Sheriff Dobbs?” The exchange between sheriff and deputy was dry and routine. “We’ve got a problem.”
No question. Just, “Brady?” Yeah. Brady had lost as much as I had and my heart ached for him.
The sheriff’s cruiser rolled into place beside the deputy’s. People had scattered, probably finding more discreet locations for eavesdropping. Sheriff Dobbs exited his vehicle and moved to the rear. He opened the back door and glared at his boys. “Get in. I’m taking you home.” Mark and Brady climbed inside without a word. Sheriff Dobbs slammed the door.
The deputy followed suit, opening his back door for Cross and Anton. Anton slid inside.
Cross hesitated. “Where are we going?”
The deputy placed a hand on Cross’s head, and tucked him into the backseat with Anton. “To the station.”
I choked back a sob. “They didn’t do anything wrong!” Anger blinded me. All pretenses of the pastor’s daughter were gone. I didn’t care who heard me or what they thought. “They defended us. Mark and Brady Dobbs attacked us. Arrest them!”
The deputy tipped his hat and maneuvered the cruiser into a three-point turn before driving away from us. My phone buzzed.
Cross’s face lit the screen. “Don’t come. We’re fine.”
Hot tears rolled over my cheeks. “Be careful.”
I had no idea what the sheriff might do to get the Lovells out of town. Having two of their performers in custody was a good start to nothing good.
Pru hugged me tighter. “Let’s go home.”
We stepped over her spilled coffee and left the crushed cup in the street. Maybe a gawker would throw it away for us. I couldn’t be sure, but I assumed someone would. We’d given them a show. It was the least they could do in return.
I shuffled home with Pru on my arm and a prayer in my heart. Let Cross be okay.
The Song
Dad met us at the door, keys in hand. The set of his jaw said he’d heard the news and was probably on his way to find us. He didn’t speak until we were inside. “Kitchen.”
Pru went to the sink for a wet paper towel and pressed it to her skinned elbows.
The relief in Dad’s eyes outweighed the anger and frustration. He pulled out a chair and sat. “So, girls, how was your coffee?” He’d reluctantly granted Pru permission to visit Mom and Faith with me, but we were to go straight there and come straight home. She’d negotiated coffee into the deal since it was on our way. He’d looked into Pru’s eyes and told her, “Nothing else. No shenanigans.”
Any event resulting in a call from the sheriff counted as shenanigans. So we were screwed.
Pru took her seat, wiping dirt from her arms and legs. “I dropped my coffee.”
Dad nodded. “Mm-hmm. How’s your arm?”
She removed the towel. Tiny dots of blood rose to the surface. “I’ve had worse.”
Dad cringed. “Someday when the sheriff calls you to say your daughters were involved in a street fight…” He exhaled deeply and lifted a hand, canceling his lecture. Pleading eyes searched Pru. “What happened? You asked to go for coffee.”
I moved behind her chair. “We were on our way home with coffee when Mark came around the corner and picked a fight with us.”
“Why?”
Pru scoffed. “We didn’t say or do anything, if that’s what you mean. He’s a freaking psychopath, like his brother.” She rubbed her elbow and swiped a tear off her cheek. “We get verbally and physically attacked by a guy and you ask us what we did? What did we do to instigate it? Why can’t he just be a lunatic? No provocation required.”
Dad stiffened. “I didn’t mean to insinuate.”
Pru shoved her chair into me. “Well, you did. I don’t want to talk anymore.” She stormed upstairs and slammed her closet door half a dozen times. Her sobs drifted into the kitchen.
Dad rubbed his eyes. “The irony is how hard I’m trying and I still screw up.”
I slid into Pru’s empty seat. Time for a reality check. Sheriff Dobbs and Dad were close, but today was the last day I’d put up with the abuse. I wouldn’t let Mark continue the tradition with Pru. “Mark Dobbs has bullied and verbally battered me for three years. He slanders Faith’s and our entire family’s name every time he sees me, and I don’t know why. I think he blames us for the impact her death had on his family.”
Dad’s gaze drifted to my scars. “You never told me.”
I rolled my arm over so he could see the cuts, and I braced for his touch. I hid the other hand beneath the table. “I didn’t tell you a lot of things because I wanted to be miserable. I lived for the despair.”
Dad put his hands in his lap. “Mercy.”
“Don’t. It’s over. I finally accept that they’re gone, that it wasn’t my fault and none of it can be changed, but starting over is tougher than I expected.”
His lips raised in a cautious half smile. “And the hair?”
“Fresh start. Time for a change.”
I tucked my scarred arm under the table with the henna hand. “I think Pru’s humiliated more than hurt. It was scary. Mark and Brady have problems. Sheriff Dobbs took them home.”
Dad leaned his elbows on the table. “Are you hurt?”
My wrists burned from Brady’s angry touch. I rubbed the swollen skin under the table. “I’m fine.”
“Do you know the other two boys? The ones the Dobbs boys fought with?”
My gaze dropped to the table. “Yes, sir.” Worry for Cross tightened my tummy. “Anton Lovell and Cr—Will Morris.”
“They’re with the sideshow. Is that why the Dobbs boys laid into them? I’m still unclear how the Lovells got involved.”
“They were inside Red’s. I guess they heard Brady screaming at me. They tried to stop Brady, but Mark jumped in. Pru and I fell down and the guys fought until the police came.”
Dad frowned. “Does everyone drink before lunch in this town?” He hung his head in defeat. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there when you needed me. Again.”
Goose bumps rose on my skin. “Dad. You’re trying now. That’s what counts. You know who told me that?”
He raised a weary brow.
“Pru.” I smiled.
Dad laughed. “She’s surely something.” He stretched to his feet. “I owe her an apology. Those Lovells look like knights in white armor to you right now, but the rules remain. No contact with any of them. Stay away from the campgrounds, the river, and the festival next weekend.”
I blinked through tears. “They weren’t inside the bar getting drunk, Dad. Why do you assume the worst about an entire group of people? You base your judgment on your unfounded suspicions.”
His face turned red. “I know what I’m talking about.”
“No, you don’t. You taught me not to judge and look at what you’re doing. Look at us, Dad. Look how messed up we are. How can we say anything about anyone else?”
“This conversation is over. You don’t have to agree with me, but you do have to obey the rules.”
I slammed my hands onto the table. “The younger one, Will, is a songwriter. He was meeting with Red’s owner about an event Saturday night. He’s talented and has a future. He’s not even a Lovell. Not everyone in their show is related, you know? Wait. You don’t know because you don’t care. It’s easier if you classify them as one big evil group.”
Dad huffed and shoved his hands into his pockets. “Mercy, I don’t know how you know so much about them, but I’m telling you now, you’ll regret any time you invest in those people. They’re dangerous. You’re too young and naive to see through it, but I’m not. It’s no coincidence that girl was attacked a hundred yards from their campsite. Don’t be a fool.”
He took two steps toward the stairs and stopped, without looking back. “If you want to survive long enough to attend college, you’ll obey me on this.”
The venom in his tone burned through me like poison. How could I rebuild a relationship with him when he kept pushing me away?
* * * *
Thanks to a town on high alert, I hadn’t seen Cross for days. After a public fight with the sheriff’s sons, the Lovells were in the spotlight and Dad had refused to back off.
While Pru and I were lectured on avoidance and other precautionary behaviors to thwart Lovell attacks, Cross had sat in an empty room at the police station for three hours. No one questioned them. No one spoke to them. He and Anton were basically given big-boy timeouts as a reminder of which way power flowed in our town until Cross demanded to be arrested or released. If they’d underestimated the town’s hostility toward them before, they understood now.
Lucky for me, the carnival had arrived on Friday. The River Festival ran from Monday to Sunday. Workers had set up the festival perimeter all afternoon on Saturday, erecting stages and placing ride trucks. Dad and his posse were on duty. The men had set up a schedule for staking out the perimeter between St. Mary’s Campground and the River Festival site in case of hooligans and troublemakers. When he’d left at dark, Dad had a giant black flashlight hooked in the loops of his outdated painter pants, courtesy of Sheriff Dobbs.
Pru slid a flat iron through my silky hair and smiled. “Maybe I should go to beauty school.” She set the iron aside and admired her work.
My phone buzzed with a text from Anton.
“Get here soon or I’m coming for you.”
Pru swiped the phone from my palm. “Can’t rush perfection — P”
“Fine, but you won’t want to miss this.”
I braided a band around the crown of my head and tucked long bangs behind my ear, while Pru beamed. She’d painted tiny crosses on my thumbnails and layered on the makeup until I looked like an after picture, minus the Photoshop. The soft material of my sundress danced across my thighs when I spun to check the laces in the back. Brown leather boots completed the ultra-cute look. A sudden thought inflated my smile. “You’re an artist.”
Pru swiped lip gloss across her lips and smacked them together. “Uh-uh.”
“Yeah. You are. Look at me tonight. Look at you always. You treat people like Faith treated sketch paper. You’re really good at it, Pru. Why stop at beauty school? You can create makeup, invent your own line of nail polish. You can design clothes or work in the wardrobe department at a Hollywood studio.”
She made a crazy face. “What have you done with my sister? You remember, the girl who refused to wear nice jeans like two weeks ago?”
I smiled until both cheeks hurt. “That was a mistake. I had no idea what I was missing.”
Pru locked arms with me and looked at our reflections in the mirror. “Well, if we don’t get to Red’s soon, you’re going to miss a whole lot more than good jeans.”
We speed walked to Red’s, sticking to the shadows as much as possible until Main Street and then made a dash for the door. Nerves roiled in me. This was it. Cross’s last competition. The carnival was setting up. In a few days, the Lovells would perform, pack up, and head out of town.
I didn’t know any more about the night of Faith’s death than I had when they arrived three weeks ago.
Pru worked her way through the crowded room to a table beside the stage. Cross, Anton, and the other Lovell siblings—Rose, Beau, and Tom—filled the chairs. Dozens of empty glasses and bottles cluttered the table.
Cross was laughing when his eyes landed on me. He didn’t stop talking to say hi or even acknowledge me. My hopes fell.
A half beat later, his face whipped back in my direction and his lips formed a kiss. A long wolf whistle zipped loose. He climbed over chairs and people to get to me. I laughed as strong arms swooped me up in an embrace. He pressed his lips to mine before setting me down. “Wow. Look at you. You pulled out all the tricks tonight.”
A smattering of stubble across his cheeks changed the look of his face. Dark bangs drifted into his eyes, longer than the first time I saw him sing. A crisp white button-down was rolled up to his elbows and stretched over his lean chest. He locked his hands behind my back and stared down at me. “How am I supposed to sing tonight with you out here looking like this?”
I teased. “It’s the boots, isn’t it? I had a feeling you’d go for a country girl.”
Cross chuckled low and deep, pressing me to him. “Baby, I’m in love with a country girl.”
My toes curled inside my boots. “Prove it.”
He lowered his mouth to mine. I arched against his chest, rising to my tiptoes. For a moment, the world was still, silent, void of everything outside our kiss.
The microphone screeched with feedback. “Uh, Will Morris?”
The crowd laughed and applauded. Cross took his time letting me go. I swayed a moment, watching him take his place on stage. Anton carried his guitar onto the stage, while I stumbled to the crowded table of Lovells.
Pru had taken Cross’s empty seat. “Nice hello you had over there.”
I pressed my lips together, enjoying the tingle left from his kisses. “No doubt.”
Anton motioned to his seat. “Here. You sit. I’m good.”
I collapsed into the chair, euphoria swimming in my brain. Rose and Tom watched me, but my eyes trained on Cross. Tonight was about him.
Cross settled the guitar strap over his head and strummed a happy melody. So much for the power ballad he’d wanted. My foot tapped in rhythm.
He hummed with the melody for a few bars before slowing the pace and piercing me with his unfathomable dark eyes. “She was a woman on a mission…learning about forgiveness…”
Breath caught in my throat. Was this about me? Had he written a song about me?
“She was planning to make a difference...”
My heart welled, filling every inch of space inside me. Pru bumped my elbow. I clasped my hands to quell the trembling and focused on his angelic voice.
“But sometimes things don’t always go as planned.”
The crowd stilled around me, equally intoxicated with his presence, collectively yearning for his next words. What didn’t go as planned?
“Some say her heart was broken, but they didn’t even know her. She was stronger than the world dared to see.”
I blinked wet eyes. It wasn’t about me.
Pru gripped my hand in hers. The word barely lifted from her lips. “Faith.”
“Her beauty never tired, she was hope, Faith inspired. No one ever loved her more than me. Now I’m living out her message and I’m reaching for the next page and I’m proof she can go on. That’s her way.”
Cross strummed harder and hoisted his body off the stool, where he crooned into the microphone.
“No, we don’t have forever, so I’m throwing out the never.
“I will find my truth. I will conquer and divide. I fight for what is right. I will challenge all the lies.
“My love will make a difference in the world of unforgiveness. I’m shining up the pages in a life with too much grayness. In your smile and your faith, I’m alive.
“We’ll turn the darkness into light. We won’t give up without a fight. We’ll be the change we prayed so long to see.”
Tears streamed over my cheeks. Those were Faith’s words. Rearranged and set to music, no longer hidden on a blog no one read. Cross had yanked them from cyberspace and made them real. Made her real. Her words were alive with us, changing faces in the room, changing hearts, changing me. Pride and joy burst through me.
The chair rattled as I stood, breathing in the moment. I opened my arms to suck it all in.
Pru and the Lovells joined me, nodding and swaying to the words.
“There’s no place for never in a world so blessed by heaven. No time to sit and wish you’d done things right.
“No, we don’t have forever, so I’m throwing out the never.
“Set aside the unforgiveness. Decide to make a difference. Vow that you and I will live today. Let’s live today.”
The crowd went insane. Dozens of girls rushed the stage, drowning the emcee’s recap of competitors in endless applause. I craned my neck for a glimpse of Cross, but he was swallowed in the crowd.
Anton moved into view. “May I?”
I shrugged. He could do anything he wanted. I was high on endorphins.
Anton’s hands wrapped around my waist and he lifted my feet off the ground. Pru took my fingers, guiding me onto the table. From the added height advantage, I pinpointed Cross in the knot of frenzied patrons.
Pru scrambled onto the table beside me, squeezed me against her side and screamed over the noise. “Best. Night. Ever.”
Anton clapped over his head, calling for an encore and chanting, “Will, Will, Will, Will.”
The crowd joined in.
Cross emerged with a look of concern. His eyes met mine and he made a straight line to my feet on the table. He wrapped one arm around my back and I jumped into his arms. My legs wrapped around his middle on instinct. The material of my skirt fell over my thighs. His free arm supported my weight. People cheered. His dimple caved in. “You liked it?”
There weren’t words to show how much, so I kissed him.
Pru hooted and hollered from the tabletop.
Feedback from the microphone stopped our kiss, but he didn’t let me go. “I don’t know about you guys,” the emcee snarked, “but I think we have another unanimous winner tonight. Ladies and gentlemen, let’s give it up for Will Morris!”
Cross spun around, pressing his lips to mine and smiling in between kisses.
The emcee beckoned. “Come on up here, Will. We’ve got a big fat check with your name on it and a personal invitation to dinner with music execs in Memphis, Tennessee.”
I untangled my ankles and stretched for the ground.
Cross cupped my face in his hands. “I love you.” He kissed my forehead and turned for the stage.
“I love you, too.”
The crowd settled into their seats, save one fortysomething pastor standing shell-shocked five feet away.
“Daddy.”
Revelations
As Cross climbed onto the stage in victory, I schlepped through the crowd in shame. I’d blatantly defied my dad, betrayed him and horrified us both by jumping on my forbidden boyfriend in public. Not exactly appropriate behavior for the preacher’s daughter or a future theology student.
I bypassed Dad, opting to gather my thoughts and prepare a proper explanation before he confronted me. Cool night air slapped my burning cheeks as my feet hit the sidewalk outside Red’s. Having a rational discussion with him was hard enough. Having that discussion in a bar wasn’t happening.
He didn’t stop me. I assumed he waited to collect his other daughter before storming home. I arrived first, put on a pot of coffee, and took my seat at the table, anticipating the inevitable and plotting to avoid an ugly battle.
Pru texted twice.
“You okay?”
Followed by:
“I’m with Dad. I said good-bye for you.”
Ahead of her texts were four I’d missed. The music and crowd inside Red’s had been louder than I’d realized. Dad had texted me every ten minutes from ten until ten forty. My heart sank for him. He must’ve been so worried when we didn’t answer.
Tendrils of rich steam rose from the coffeemaker, filling our little kitchen. I tapped the screen of my phone and responded to Pru’s text. What was taking them so long? “Where’s Dad?”
The back door swung open and I jumped. Dad stopped cold, apparently stunned by my presence. He probably expected me to be in my room, not waiting at the table.
Pru’s response text arrived as she passed through the threshold behind Dad.
“Home.”
I steadied my nerves. “Can we talk? I’m making coffee.”
Dad grimaced. “You can’t do that, Mercy. You can’t expect me to treat you like an adult when I just saw you wrapped around some stranger at a bar like an out-of-control child.”
I poured two cups from the still-brewing pot. “I haven’t been a child in a long time.” Steam from the coffee warmed my face and eased my mind. I placed the mugs on the table. “Let’s talk.”
Pru gestured wildly enough to land a Cessna behind him.
Dad knew without seeing. “Go on up to your room, Prudence.”
She turned on her heels and left the room, though she likely stopped to listen from the stairs.
I sat.
Dad stood behind his chair, clamping bloodless fingertips over the backrest. “I prayed for years that you’d snap out of your grief and come back to me. Now I’m not sure you’re any better off. What’s gotten into you? At least you were safe in your room.”
I choked. “Better off? You think I was better off wrapped in my blankets, locked in my head, punishing myself with every thought and action? You have no idea. None.” I rolled my arms over to show the scars on both arms. “This stopped my pain. Not you. You were busy praying for God to intervene.”
Dad slammed his palm on the table.
I shot to my feet. “You hid behind your faith. Yes. God intervened. He answered your prayers, three years later. He brought me back to life, but He gave you three years to get in the game. Three. I didn’t need to suffer alone all that time.”
“Dammit, Faith!” He slapped a hand over his mouth. “Mercy.” He blinked wide eyes. “I didn’t mean that.”
“To yell, swear, or call me Faith?”
He gasped. “None of it. I know you’re not Faith.” He scrubbed the back of his neck with one hand. “I didn’t mean to lose my temper.” He groaned into both palms. “There’s so much at stake and it’s slipping away. I know you don’t understand now, but one day you will.”
I shook my head. He was such a parenting cliché. Did he even try to write his own material? Did he just deliver everything every parent ever said in sound bites as needed?
Someone had to be the sensible one. “I’m sorry for breaking your rules. That was disrespectful.”
“You’re sorry for breaking which rule? For going to a bar?”
“No. I didn’t do anything wrong. I was there with friends, supporting someone I care about. It wasn’t late, and I wasn’t drinking.”
Dad paced the kitchen floor. “We’re called to avoid the perceptions of sin, and you know that.”
“Dad.”
“No. Put yourself in my position for a change. Imagine my terror when I came home and both my daughters were missing. Do you have any idea what that feels like? The answer is no. You don’t. You can’t.
“I went to White Water Coffee first, planning to complain, but share your table and ask how your day went. Didn’t matter. You weren’t there either. I considered you’d gone to see your mom and Faith, but it was dark. I prayed you hadn’t disobeyed and gone near the river or the campgrounds. I prayed for peace because panic spread through me, and I imagined you and Pru in the river.” He stopped speaking and stared at the ceiling.
“Walking past the bar, I thought I recognized the lyrics to a song. The words were so familiar, I stepped inside, not yet remembering you’d told me the Lovells were here for the song writing competition. I saw Pru first, standing on a table. I barely recognized you spinning in that boy’s arms. Your hairstyle is still new to me. All of it. The clothes. Makeup. The setting was all wrong, but that was Pru. So, I knew my eyes weren’t deceiving me. You were kissing that boy from the sideshow, the one who brought your wallet back, in a room full of people. His hands were all over you. What were you thinking?” His voice ratcheted up.
“I was thinking I love him.”
Dad’s eyes closed and reopened in slow motion. He turned his face from me and walked away. I guess he thought there was nothing left to say.
He’d won one battle. His bitter words had robbed me of my celebration with Cross. We’d planned to meet on the roof at midnight, but I couldn’t celebrate in the aftermath of Dad’s anger. I needed time to process all the accusations.
Had I gotten so confused this month that I couldn’t see how much I was screwing up? Was loving Cross worth losing my dad?
Our family rode to church in silence the next morning, where Pru and I warmed the front pew, as expected. We looked appropriately demur and content to be out of bed, dressed, and playing hostesses at nine on Sunday morning. We were perfect. Cue the doves and light the halos. Okay, my attitude wasn’t perfect.
Dad approached the pulpit and opened his Bible. We bowed our heads in collective prayer. The church doors opened and shut as last-minute arrivals shuffled into their seats. I started when someone sat beside me.
Dad ended the prayer. “Amen.”
I donned my well-practiced smile, ready to welcome the visitors. Only visitors would sit in the front pew. Regulars sat near the rear, either for a quick post-service escape or to lead the reception-hall doughnut line.
Whispers drifted over the congregation.
I opened my eyes. Cross closed his hand over mine. Beside him, Anton and Rose looked as uncomfortable as possible in their severe vintage attire. Anton looked like an old-fashioned mortician again. Rose had pulled tidy raven curls over her neck tattoos. Her black pinafore dress and pumps were perfect for a funeral. The small pillbox hat and veil reinforced the look.
Pru’s hand curled over my forearm. She vibrated with enthusiasm.
Dad’s blank stare worried me. Would he make a scene? Or stroke out after all? In church? The irony. His gaze slid over the trio on my right and stopped at Cross’s hand on mine.
Cross kept his chin level and his eyes on Dad. Cross’s gunmetal-gray dress shirt emphasized the depth of his eyes and the shine of his lip piercing.
“Well.” Dad coughed into his fist. “I had a sermon prepared on the importance of virtue and obedience to God’s will. It seems He had other plans.” He looked into my eyes.
The crowd chuckled. Awkward tension zinged through the air. My chest rose and fell in subdued gasps. Cross squeezed my hand. He turned our palms against one another to entwine our fingers.
Dad changed pages in his Bible. “I think today’s sermon might be meant for me. Given the month’s events in this community and in my household, I think it best to talk about two powerful acts of love. Two of the most difficult things for us as emotional, imperfect humans to do, are often the most freeing. First, is a discipline I’m working on, personally. Withholding judgment. Secondly…forgiveness.”
I wrapped my arm around Pru’s shoulders and pulled her against my side, and then I leaned into Cross’s solid frame and smiled. Hope had first found me, three weeks ago, alone at my sister’s grave. Today, it found me surrounded by people I loved and who loved me back. Proof that hope was everywhere.
* * * *
Dad went back to church for evening service. I ordered pizza. Pru sorted Faith’s clothes into three piles. Stuff she wanted. Stuff she thought I needed and stuff she’d always hated. The last box was a donation box. I organized Faith’s art into keep and donate piles. The process was delicious and messy, thanks to the pizza and chips set in the center of our workspace.
I licked my fingers and wiped them on a napkin. “Can you believe Dad introduced himself to Cross and the Lovells after the service?”
She folded a pair of jeans with paint stains on the legs. “After the message he gave on forgiveness and not judging? I was ready for anything.”
“I’m proud of him.”
“Yeah. That was all for you. Dad was satisfied hating all Lovells equally. You wrecked everything.” She tossed a pair of socks at me.
I dodged the hit and carried another full box of art into the hallway. The overall dismantling of Faith’s room-shrine went faster than expected. After only an hour, we were down to the last few piles.
My thoughts wandered. “Can you believe Cross won again last night?”
“Oh!” Pru waved her arms and chewed frantically before swallowing. “He used Faith’s poem.” Her eyes were soft and dreamy. “How freaking amazing was that?”
I smiled. “He’s unbelievable. I wish they didn’t have to leave so fast after church for practices. I hope he comes over tonight.”
“He will.” She carried her box into the hall and balanced it on the stack. “Okay. What’s left?”
“Books.” Faith had a six-foot bookcase stuffed full of art books and literature. “The school will probably take any of these we don’t want.”
Pru ran her fingertips along the dusty shelves. “I think we should do this for Mom too. Dad left all her things exactly the same way as Faith’s.”
“Sure.” I smiled. “She’d like that.”
Pru wiped tears off her cheeks. “Do you think you’ll ever forgive Mom?”
I pressed my lips together. “It was selfish of me to blame her. Dad nailed it today, right? Forgiveness.”
“So, yeah?”
“Yeah. I don’t blame her anymore, but I’m still a little pissed. She’s free of things I still cry about sometimes. You know?” I shook my head. It didn’t matter. “I forgive her. One day last fall, I realized I hadn’t obsessed over her death in a while. I guess while I was praying all that time for rest and peace, I’d started healing.”
Her eyes glossed with tears. “Yeah. Okay. Good.” She nodded and sniffed. “So, how do we do this? Box everything or look for hidden notes and pictures first?”
“What?” I laughed. “I’m sorry. Are we in a James Bond movie?”
Pru frowned. “Where do you hide your stuff? In a sock drawer?”
Huh. I didn’t have anything to hide. Except, maybe Cross, but he didn’t fit inside a book. He barely fit on the floor beside my bed when Dad ventured to the third floor. “I don’t know.”
Pru opened a paperback and shook a few snapshots from between the pages. “See.”
I turned the pictures in my fingertips. Selfies of Faith and her friends. Senior pictures of boys that weren’t Brady. Interesting.
I gathered an armload of art books and stacked them on the floor for closer inspection. A pamphlet fluttered to the ground. “God’s Will and Teen Pregnancy.”
“What?” Pru snatched it off the carpet.
I blinked, mentally caught up with what Pru had in her hands and thumbed through the other books as fast as possible. What else did she have in there? Oh, no.
“Pru.” I lifted a thin paperback between us. “Spiritual Healing After Miscarriage.”
She flopped onto the carpet. “No wonder she told you to wait for sex. Do you think those were for her?”
I skimmed the paperback. “I don’t know. She could’ve been worried about a friend.”
We opened book after book, filling boxes with dusty tomes and tattered college brochures, looking for something that might answer our questions.
Pru handed me a tiny slip of paper, removed from the pages of a Bible. A pencil sketch of an angel carrying an infant. “No. I think all these things are hers.”
Air burned through my shrinking windpipe.
Pru took the paper back. “The angel is so beautiful. The baby has no detail, just an outline.”
I rolled back against the carpet. “She couldn’t have been far along. Maybe she never had the chance to think about the baby until it was gone. I can’t imagine what that was like.” My losses were all tangible ones. Memories ate me alive, knowing there’d never be more, but to lose something…someone she never knew… How did anyone process that kind of loss? “I had no idea. She was hurting so much and I had no idea. How is that possible?”
“You think that’s why she broke up with Brady?”
Ugh. I turned my head for a better look at Pru. “When I told Sara over the phone that Brady was pushing Faith for sex, she laughed. I bet Sara knew they were having sex. That means Faith lied to Anton about why she and Brady broke up.”
Pru lay down beside me. “Understandable. I’m not sure I’d tell a guy I just met about something so personal.”
I crossed my arms over my middle. “She didn’t even tell me.”
Pru turned her head. Her sincere blue eyes were inches from mine. “You were fourteen. What could you do to help her or even understand?”
“I didn’t feel fourteen. I felt like one of her confidants.”
“And that was the magic of Faith. She made everyone feel special…even when she was hurting.”
I rolled onto my tummy and pressed my forehead to the ground. “Maybe Brady was pushing her for sex afterward, like nothing happened, or maybe she never told him about the miscarriage. If I got pregnant and lost the baby, I’d think I was being punished.”
Pru blew out a deep breath. “Me too. I bet the poems on her blog were about losing the baby, not Brady.”
“So she really was trying to start over, not check out.”
Pru sat up and flipped through more books. “Do you think the miscarriage was the death Nadya saw when she read Faith’s palm?”
I pushed into a seated position. “You said you didn’t believe in that stuff.”
She shrugged. “You said Nadya saw death and loss in Faith’s life, plus no future. That’s a big coincidence. She’d just lost a life literally growing inside her and then she lost hers too.”
A shiver crept over my skin. “Maybe I should wear the necklace Nadya gave me.”
“Couldn’t hurt. No way!” Pru cracked up. “Look.” She held a pencil sketch of Anton in front of her face and tipped it left and right like a goofy mask. “Faith drew him. How cool is that? He had a hundred earrings.”
A line of hoops stretched up Anton’s left ear in the drawing. Aside from that, he hadn’t changed at all, and Faith had nailed his likeness.
I grabbed my phone. “I think we should take it to him. Dad’s on stake-out duty for another hour. We can get there and get back before he comes home.”
Pru beamed. “Can I give it to him?”
“Sure.” I snapped a picture of the drawing with my phone and texted it to Cross.
“We have a present from Faith for Anton. On our way. Watch for us.”
We made excellent time on the way to the campgrounds. Pru led the way across the field along the river toward the campsite, an out-of-our-way route designed to avoid the patrols Sheriff Dobbs had warned me about and anyone guarding the festival site. Night sounds were swallowed by the roar of our river, swollen from a month of excess.
Pru looked over her shoulder toward the festival site. “Hard to believe the festival’s set up already and in a few days it’s over.” Shadows of motionless rides stretched into the sky like healing bruises.
The River Festival would end and Cross would leave. “Yeah.”
My mind circled the unbelievable possibility Faith had had a miscarriage. Yet another factor that changed everything. If she hadn’t lost her pregnancy, she wouldn’t have snuck out to party that night. She’d be here. She’d be twenty. She’d be a mother. A mother. The word bounced, surreal, impossible. Pru and I would be aunts. Dad and Mom… Mom might still be here and she’d be a grandma. To a three-year-old.
Images of Faith’s baby pictures rushed through my thoughts. Would the preschooler have looked like her? Would I have babysat and taught my niece or nephew to swim one day, something Pru never had the chance to learn? If things were different, Pru would’ve spent hours at lessons like Faith and me. We’d teach Faith’s baby all sorts of things.
A tall, narrow figure stepped in our path up ahead. A shadow stretched over his features.
I sucked air, then laughed. “Good grief.”
Pru groaned. “You scared the crap out of us, Cross.”
Brady took several long strides in our direction. “I’m not your boyfriend.”
Faith
Brady moved in a slow, deliberate arc, herding us to the river side of the field. His demeanor was strange and predatory, though, for the first time in a while, his speech and eyes were clear. Sharp. “What are you two doing out here after dark? Haven’t you heard there’s a criminal on the loose?”
Pru made a strangled sound and stepped closer to the riverbank.
I grabbed her arm. “Careful.”
Brady took another step. “You didn’t answer my question.”
“We’re on patrol.” My steady voice surprised me. Lies were easier in the face of potential danger. “Pru and I are helping Dad with his shift. We’re riding home with him soon, so we should get going.”
Brady stepped into my path, shaking his head. “You’re more like Faith than I knew. She was a liar too.”
“I don’t know what you mean.” I sidestepped Brady, tugging Pru behind me, along the jagged river’s edge. One wrong step would drop us over the slick grassy ledge and land us in the rapids. Scents of mud and river water peppered the night air. Fireflies lifted off the ground behind him. They didn’t know we were in trouble. No one did.
Brady raised a giant black flashlight, like the one Sheriff Dobbs had given my dad, and slapped it against his palm. “Your dad left with my dad twenty minutes ago. The festival site’s deserted. The campers are quiet. It’s just me, you, and the river.”
Pru’s feet slipped over the grass. She latched onto my arm with a whimper.
Brady moved closer. “You still haven’t told me why you’re here. Did you come for the sideshow again? Bring Pru to initiate her into your family’s sick tradition? Yeah. Faith liked them too.”
Fear coursed through me. I couldn’t afford any wrong moves. I had Pru to think about.
A monumental epiphany cleared my addled brain. Brady couldn’t swim. Faith had teased him mercilessly. Brady Dobbs could do anything—pushups with her on his back, hit a homerun out of the ballpark, ace the SATs—but he couldn’t manage a decent doggie paddle. “Were you with Faith at the river that night? Is that why you drink so much? You feel guilty because you couldn’t save her.”
His face twisted in anger. Tears glossed his crazy eyes. He barked a short, humorless laugh. “You mean you haven’t figured it out yet? You’ve been asking questions all over town. Interviewing our old friends and teachers. Sneaking the freak into your bedroom. Yeah. I saw all that. I see everything and no one notices because I’m invisible. I’m a bruise on the town’s ego, the kid who should’ve put this place on the map.”
My mouth went dry. “You’re the one who’s been following me.”
He sniffed and wiped his nose across the back of his thick, muscular arm. “I didn’t believe you’d do it. Didn’t think you’d keep pushing. I thought you’d let it go. She’s dead!” He screamed the final word. Spittle flew from his lips. “She’s not coming back, so let it go!” He marched forward, flashlight raised at his side, poised to swing. Like a baseball bat. I’d seen Brady hit a ball into tomorrow. I wouldn’t survive.
A quiver rocked Pru’s voice. “You were the one who hit that girl at the campgrounds.”
His steps stuttered. His gaze jumped to Pru, as if he’d forgotten she was there. “I thought she was Mercy.”
I blocked Pru with an outstretched arm. “This is between you and me. Let Pru go, and we can talk as long as you want. You can tell me what happened that night, and we can both move on. There’s no need for anyone else to get hurt.”
He shook his head. “Uh-uh. Nope.” The flashlight circled in his grip.
Pru’s feet slipped and fumbled along the ledge above the raging river. Desperation crushed my lungs. “It’s not your fault she drowned. Look at that water. No one can manage that. You can’t swim. You couldn’t have saved her.”
Ugly cries lifted behind me as Pru clutched my waist.
Shock danced over Brady’s face. A grinchy smile lifted one side of his mouth. “Faith didn’t drown. I hit her. She didn’t get back up.”
Sobs welled in my throat. “What?”
“We fought about the baby. College. Our futures. Everything. I wanted to make our relationship work, but she wanted to jump in bed with some disgusting giant from the sideshow. The sideshow! She had me right here, and she wouldn’t let me love her. What the hell was wrong with her?”
“You hit her.” The words were steam on my tongue. “You hit my sister.”
His head bobbed. “Yep. One little mistake. The only thing I’d ever done wrong and look where it got me? She ruined my life!”
I inched away, towing Pru behind me, one baby step at a time. “You knew about the pregnancy?”
“She said she couldn’t be with me after she lost it. She said God punished her for having sex with me before we were married. What kind of God do you serve?”
“Not that kind,” I whispered. “She was sad, Brady. She was hurting and she wasn’t thinking clearly. No one punished her. Miscarriages happen.”
His Adam’s apple bobbed and his eyes trained on the river behind Pru and me.
“Hey, look at me. You didn’t kill her. She drowned.”
Rage burned a path across his face. He took two giant steps forward, flashlight in the air. “Stop. Lying!”
I spun on Pru, arms high to block the flashlight’s blow over my head. Heavy metal crashed into my skin and fireworks of pain burst through my vision. My feet tangled in Pru’s and we tumbled over the bank. Into the river.
Icy water sliced my skin. The sickening crunch of his flashlight against my arm echoed inside my head. Frigid fingers shoved me downstream at a fast clip. I waved my good arm in front of me, gauging for rocks, blind from the darkness. “Pru!”
My back hit a protruding rock, yanking my head to one side and cracking it hard. Fresh pain jolted through my limbs. “Pru!”
A strangled cry lifted and fell so fast, I might have imagined it.
“Pru!” The word hung on my tongue, dragging out for beats until I had no more breath.
Something moved up ahead.
“Pru!”
The animalistic motion shot hope and adrenaline into my muscles.
As the water threw me closer, I recognized her, not from sight, but from instinct. “Pru!” Every fiber of my being knew her and fought to reach her. Her thin arms clung to a rock while her legs were tossed and thrown on the current. I paddled through the frigid mountain water with one surely broken arm and two numbed legs. A moment later, the current caught me and crushed me against Pru on the stone.
She gasped for air. “I can’t swim.”
Her sobs broke my heart. “Yes, you can. I’ve seen you.”
Soaking wet hair clung to her face. “In a pool and not well. Not here. Not in this.”
I wasn’t losing another sister to the river. Anger welled in me. “You can swim. I’ve seen you swim. Fight, dammit! I can’t save you. He broke my arm.”
Her eyes stretched. “You’re hurt?”
“Yes.” And the odds of us getting out of the river weren’t good. Even with two strong arms and no one to carry, this section of the river, without a raft, was suicide. “But we’re going to be fine. Understand?”
I closed my eyes and prayed. Please get us out of this water alive. Don’t take us from Dad like this.
A silhouette loomed along the riverbank, hunched and cautious.
“He’s looking for us.”
Pru squeaked and flailed, repositioning her hands for better purchase.
“Shhh.”
The beam of his light raced over the water’s surface fifty yards upstream.
“We’ve got to go. Trust me.” I wrapped my good arm around Pru’s chest and the current pulled her loose. I clamped my free hand over her mouth and stifled a scream of pain. I pressed our heads together. I managed two words before the water pulled us under. “Help me.”
Blackness enveloped us. We were caught in the undertow. People didn’t survive that, especially not us. We swam hard against the current, pumping our legs, banging into each other and working overtime to fight the powerful water.
And then there was air.
I gulped oxygen and scanned for light before the water turned us around. Pru’s expression had changed from fear to fierce determination. Her arms looped under mine and her legs fought valiantly, somehow winning the battle over Mother Nature. Our feet slammed into a raised portion of riverbed, and we gained momentary footing, enough to redirect us. Three heartbeats later, the shore came into reach.
Pru scrambled onto the sandbar, dragging me behind her. We climbed on exhausted legs, through muck, mud, and cattails into the field outside the festival. “My phone.”
I nodded. “Mine too.”
Behind us, the beam of light continued a zigzag across the water.
Pru pulled in shaky breaths of night air. “He’s coming. Can you make it home?”
My arm blazed and throbbed with pain at my side. I cradled it with my opposite hand; every breath seemed to intensify the pain. I looked at the death sentence behind us. We’d survived the impossible. “Yeah.” I could get home if I had to crawl there on my belly.
Headlights flashed in the distance, washing us in light and temporarily blinding me. Relief washed through me. Hot tears of joy scalded my frozen cheeks. We were saved. The blessed crunch of tires over gravel delivered the vehicle to our feet.
Pru raised an arm to shield her eyes from the headlights. “Help!”
The lights dimmed and Sheriff Dobbs stood akimbo, staring angrily. “What’s going on here?”
Brady jogged into sight.
I bumped into Pru, moving us away from him. “Brady attacked us. He told us he hit Faith that night. I told him he didn’t kill her, that she drowned, but he didn’t believe me, and he hit me with that flashlight.” I winced at the memory. “I think he broke my arm.”
Sheriff Dobbs turned to Brady. “What do you have to say about this?”
I scoffed. Would he talk his way out of it? Was the sheriff so blind and damaged that he’d try to smooth this over for his son’s sake? My lip trembled. Maybe.
Brady huffed, somewhat out of breath from chasing his prey. “Thanks for coming.”
He’d called him?
Pru curled her fingers in the hem of my shirt. “Oh, no.” She stepped toward the shadows with me beside her.
They turned toward us, and we froze.
Brady pointed his light at me. “She said Faith drowned.”
“She did.” I’d hoped to defuse the situation. If Brady knew he didn’t kill her, maybe he could get some help, some closure and move on. Maybe he could get anger management. Fury bubbled in me. He’d hit my sister. A woman who’d carried his child. First, he needed to be punished.
Sheriff Dobbs heaved a tired sigh. “That’s right.”
Brady dropped the light. “She drowned?”
“Yes.” The look on Sheriff Dobbs’s face sent prickles over my neck and arms. Something else was going on here.
I glanced to Pru. Her furrowed brows said she noticed, too.
Fury raged in Brady’s trembling limbs. “You told me I killed her.”
“What?” I looked to Pru in confusion. She shook her head and pulled me another step away.
Brady paced before his dad. “I told you I hit her and you said I killed her.”
“No, no, no, no,” Sheriff Dobbs cooed to his loony son. “Come now.” He pulled Brady away from us and planted his hands on Brady’s cheeks, forcing his attention off of Pru and me. “Shhhh. Listen to me. The autopsy showed a dozen bruises and traumas from crossing the rapids. Whatever else happened that night, she drowned. It doesn’t make any sense to harp on extraneous details. They won’t bring her back.”
Brady sobbed. He crouched to the ground by his flashlight. “She was alive when I shoved her in the river. I thought I killed her.” He tipped his head back and roared into the sky like something feral. “I did kill her. I rolled her into the river. I drowned her!”
Sheriff Dobbs squatted with him. His voice was soft and low. I strained to make out the words. “You need to calm down and stop talking. Do you understand me?” He patted Brady’s back. “Let’s get you home. I’ll take care of the girls.”
Bile rose in my throat. Pru dragged me deeper into the shadows, farther from the sheriff and farther from home. I couldn’t find a full breath. My lungs were frozen in shock and horror. Sheriff Dobbs had known all along. He knew Brady hit my sister, and he’d done nothing. He knew Brady rolled her into the river and he’d coddled and comforted him all these years while Brady squandered his life and drank himself into nothingness. He’d comforted Brady. The emotional strain nearly split my psyche down the middle. I needed to stay. I wanted to hear every morbid detail of their horrific cover-up. I also needed to run before either man decided to get rid of any more Porter women. Maybe I could protect Pru in a way I’d never had the chance to protect Faith.
They stood and walked to the car. Sheriff Dobbs opened the passenger door to let Brady inside.
And we ran.
For some reason, I was like a newborn deer on wobbly legs, cringing with every awkward step. The pain in my arm spread to my brain.
Pru led the way through the darkness. She stopped at the ticket booth for the festival. “Maybe there’s a phone.” She ducked inside.
Two flashlight beams ran over the ground.
She hopped out, spotted the beams, and pointed at the two streams of light I couldn’t take my eyes off. “They’re coming.”
We scurried like mice from hawks, at a complete disadvantage. Weak. Fear-driven. Panicked.
The chain link gates beyond the booth were locked, but Pru and I fit between them with a little effort. The men never would.
We dipped into the first game booth and sat on the ground. Stuffed animals swung overhead. Security lighting cast eerie shadows over the deserted festival. I gritted my teeth through unending pain. “We need a plan.”
Pru nodded. “They can’t get through the fence, but there might be another way for them to get inside. We can’t stay here.”
I sat up on my knees and peered over the counter, where men in striped aprons would taunt passersby tomorrow night. Unless we didn’t get out and this place was a crime scene by then.
The control booth at the arena caught my eye. “If we can get inside the control booth, we can use the loudspeaker. That thing’s loud when the festival’s in full swing. I bet it would wake the town if we use it tonight.”
Relief washed over Pru’s face. She moved into a crouch and looked at the control booth.
The gate rattled open and something thunked against the ground.
We hadn’t survived the river to die inside a ring toss game. I took Pru’s hand and we ducked through the back of our game booth, onto game row. A line of booths stretched before us and I swallowed bile. All my favorite festival sights were distorted and frightening in a bath of shadows and silence.
Whistling began nearby.
We ran, full speed and tipped forward at the waist to keep low. I stumbled repeatedly on leaden feet, begging them to keep up.
A familiar voice taunted, much closer than the whistling. “Come out, come out, wherever you are.” Sheriff Dobbs’s singsong cadence coiled ice fingers in my gut. He’d come to make sure we kept his secret, but that wasn’t going to happen. I’d make sure he and Brady faced a jury for what they’d done. First, I needed to get Pru somewhere safe.
I squeezed Pru’s hand and cut between Balloon Pop! and a dunk tank, putting us farther from our destination. We’d reached the outskirts of the festival grounds.
Pru trembled at my side. “What do we do? We can’t go back. They’ve probably split up.”
We stared at the chain link fence separating us from safety. The river roared through the darkness beyond the fence.
“I can’t climb the fence like this.” My arm screamed for me to give up and die. Black dots swarmed in my vision. “I might black out.”
Pru grabbed my shoulders. “No, you won’t. You’re going to do what you made me do in the water. You’re going to fight.”
The whistling drew nearer.
She jerked me to the side and pressed my back against a red corrugated wall. “Come on.” Pru climbed two steps to a door in the wall I recognized as a semitruck. Some of the games and attractions drove in like that and parked. In the morning, workers rolled up the outside wall to reveal the attraction. I slipped inside behind her and pulled the door shut with a click.
Our every step echoed.
I leaned against the wall and caught my breath. “Where are we?”
“Fun house, I think.”
I inched along the wall, thankful for narrow halls I could press my back against and ease the tremor in my legs. I bumped into Pru.
She’d stopped short. “Do you hear that?”
My senses went on high alert. “Voices?”
“Yeah. Lots.”
We shuffled down the black hallway and spilled into a large room filled with padded bumpers shaped like arms and legs jutting out from the floor and walls. We navigated through the obstacles and into a hall of mirrors. A measure of dim light filtered in through scratched up Plexiglas on the opposite wall. Our dad stood outside, hands cupped around his lips.
“Dad!” I screamed.
Pru jumped. She gasped and pressed her face to the window, screaming for help.
Behind him, Sheriff Dobbs looked our way. He wrapped an arm over Dad’s shoulders and steered him in the opposite direction. Brady arrived next, spoke to Dad, and shuffled back toward game row at his side. Sheriff Dobbs headed for the funhouse.
Pru changed her screams. “Anton!”
What? Above the darkened food carts and merchandise stands, Anton’s head bobbed a path toward us.
Pru pounded her fists against the glass as I fought a tidal wave of nausea and blackness.
My back slid down the wall to the cool metal floor.
Pru kept pounding.
My cheek pressed against the ground.
Pounding.
Screaming.
Darkness.
Pain racked my sides. Two black boots stopped before me. “Get up, or I kill her here.”
I didn’t want anyone to die, but focusing through the pain was impossible.
Pru’s voice wobbled. “Mercy.”
My eyes peeled open. Sheriff Dobbs had one leather gloved hand pressed over Pru’s face. The other wound around her middle like a vise. “Get up.”
I forced my weighted limbs into cooperation.
“Move.” He motioned down the dark hall where we’d entered. Away from the window. Away from Dad. One last look over my shoulder revealed no one. Anton was gone. Dad was gone.
I bent forward and threw up.
The sheriff swore. “Now your DNA’s in here. Stop.”
I pressed my back to the wall and focused my eyes on Pru’s terrified face. Unlike the raging river that had washed every fiber of evidence from Faith’s body, my DNA was here to stay. He wouldn’t get away with hurting us or anyone else again.
I gritted my teeth against the pain. Beads of sweat lined my forehead. “I think I have a concussion. I hit my head in the river.”
“Shut up.” Sheriff Dobbs dropped Pru. “Stay down.” He turned in a circle. “I don’t have any rope or anywhere to keep you until I get back. His hand hovered over his sidearm. “Shit. I have to meet your father and let him know the grounds are clear.” He growled and groaned.
We’d put him in an awful position. Dread chilled my heart. He’d have to kill us with his bare hands or let us go. He wouldn’t let us go.
The sound of my name broke through the silent truck. Voices outside yelled for Pru and me. “Dad wasn’t alone.”
Sheriff Dobbs gritted his teeth and unlatched his giant metal flashlight. “Lord, forgive me.” He hoisted it over his head.
The scream that ripped free from Pru jolted me into action. I lunged for his knees and sent him flying backward, into the wall and onto the floor. The impact echoed around us. Pru screamed again. I launched myself across the space between Sheriff Dobbs and his fallen light. He grabbed it and shined it in my eyes. Pain ripped through my face and I toppled onto my backside.
Pru dove at him like a feral animal, but he deflected her with a backhand.
Had he hit me too? Confusion and pain tore my skull apart.
Sheriff Dobbs raised his light again and took aim at me.
My unfocused eyes created two of him. And one fell.
The truck rattled and wobbled around us. Footfalls pounded over the metal.
Someone yelled, “They’re in here!”
The small space filled with bodies and voices. The door opened and closed several times. Metal pinged and pounded around us.
I forced a word from my lips. The most important word in the world. “Pru.”
Strong arms lifted and moved me through the crowd.
“Shh. She’s right behind us.” Tom Lovell set me on my feet outside the trailer.
Anton’s voice burst through the now-open doorway. “It’s Sheriff Dobbs.”
Cross and my dad ran to my side.
Pru dashed through the little cluster of people and clutched me to her chest. “We need an ambulance. Mercy broke her arm and has a concussion.”
Cross lifted his phone from his pocket and dialed. Beside him, the acrobats hugged one another. Nadya and Nicolae watched with furrowed brows. Dad wrapped his arms around Pru and me until I screeched.
“Sorry.” He tested the skin of my arm with warm fingertips and asked me how many fingers he held up.
I had no idea.
My teeth chattered recklessly. “How…did you…find us?”
Cross moved closer. “Your dad went home and you were gone, so he came looking for me. I told him we were going to meet but you never arrived. We were worried, so I gathered the others and we spread out. Nicolae and Nadya saw the sheriff’s car outside the open gate. We thought…” Cross scrubbed a hand through his hair and looked at Dad. “We thought he was inside looking for you, and when we found him, he said he was. He said he got a distress call about two unidentified girls chased inside by a man in a hoodie.”
Anton shoved Sheriff Dobbs off the truck and into the dirt, restrained in his own handcuffs. “Citizen’s arrest.”
The bark of sirens in the distance closed in on us. Two ambulances, two deputies and a fire truck stopped several feet away.
My cry of relief burst through chattering lips. “Dad, Brady killed Faith. He told us.”
Shock registered on everyone’s faces as my words settled. The deputies took in Sheriff Dobbs’s condition and nodded. Maybe they already suspected. Maybe they were afraid to pursue their suspicions. Whatever the reason, a deputy started reciting the sheriff his Miranda rights without any questions.
Dad scanned the little crowd.
EMTs led Pru and me to the ambulances. They put me on a stretcher. I struggled to sit up. “What about Brady?”
The second deputy removed his hat. “I’ll find Brady Dobbs. That’s a promise.”
My eyes blurred with tears. I nodded and an EMT snapped an oxygen mask over my face. They loaded my stretcher onto the ambulance.
Cross climbed into the ambulance with me. “Your dad asked me to ride with you. He’s riding with Pru. I hope that’s okay.”
The ambulance door smacked shut and the engine rumbled to life. Moments later an IV dripped something cold into my veins. The pain in my arm subsided.
Cross gripped my good hand in his. “You’re soaking wet.”
I blinked. Fatigue tugged and pulled at my consciousness.
“He put you in the river, didn’t he?”
My hand lost its grip on his. I whimpered.
He pressed his lips to my temple. The intimacy of his whisper on my skin warmed my impossibly cold body. “Rest and you’ll feel better. You’re a fighter, Mercy Porter. An unstoppable force of nature. You taught my damaged heart to love. Healing a broken arm is nothing for you.” He kissed my head good night.
Anything is Possible
It was dawn when we made it home from the hospital. The car settled beneath us in the driveway. Gold and tangerine lines cut paths through the lavender sky. Another new day. My brain struggled to hold thoughts and my arm beat a rhythm inside my cast. Miserable, but crazy as it seemed, I’d follow the same path a thousand times if it meant justice for Faith. According to local media reporters and a couple attorneys who’d shown up at the hospital, Pru and I would probably have to testify about the Dobbs’ confession at Faith’s murder trial and again about what happened to us last night. Someday, we’d have to face Brady and Sheriff Dobbs, but for now, I needed sleep.
Dad opened the driver’s side door and gave me a long, pleading look.
“I’m fine.”
Pru needed his help more than me.
He sighed and climbed out.
Pru whimpered in the backseat. Her fingers twitched and her eyes raced beneath closed lids. She’d come unhinged at the emergency room when the deputy asked for a statement. They’d given her something to calm her down, but she cried in her sleep. She’d have to give that statement eventually. Hopefully, the nightmares would pass.
Dad opened the rear passenger door and gathered her into his arms, the way he had when she was small. They made their way to the house while I shut the car doors with my good arm. Whatever the nurse had put in my IV had dulled the roaring pain.
An overwhelming peace worked through me. I’d have a private breakdown later, but in this moment, I had satisfaction. Faith could rest now. Her killer was in police custody, along with his accomplice. The truth was out, and the details were filling in quickly. Mark and his mom had been taken in for questioning. How much they knew about that night was anyone’s guess, but I had a feeling they knew everything. It would explain why the Dobbs’ marriage fell apart after Faith’s death and why Mark became such a seething ball of hate. He’d directed his anger at me, but who else could he blame? Brady and Sheriff Dobbs were his idols back then, and we were just kids.
I inhaled the morning air and hurried to open the door for Dad and Pru. Her arms tightened around his neck when I passed. He carried her to her room. I don’t remember going to mine.
* * * *
Two days passed. My mind was a blissful smudge of painkillers and brain trauma. In some ways, the concussion was worse than the broken arm. On Wednesday, I stood up without collapsing, so I ventured down the steps to reality.
Dad shoved eggs around a pan and botched the lyrics to a goofy Bible school song. Pru hunched over a cell phone catalog at the table, dog-earing half the pages. A punch of emotion stopped me in my tracks. Tears popped up and flowed over my cheeks, but I wiped them away, determined to focus on the good that had come from our horrific experience and not on what could have been.
“Good morning, family.”
Pru smiled. “Dad’s getting us new phones.” She looked amazing. Happy. Content.
I shuffled forward. “Well, it’s nice to see you too.”
“Oh, we’ve seen you. You haven’t seen us, or you probably don’t remember seeing us since you’re always stoned and your brain’s rattled.”
“I’m not stoned.” I gave her a wink and a thumbs-up. Maybe I was.
She laughed.
Dad wiped his hands on a dish towel and frowned. He looked older than I remembered. “I suppose you want coffee. Is she allowed to have coffee with the concussion and the pills?”
Pru shrugged.
I slid into my seat. “Yes. I think it’s the rules.”
He set plates on the table and filled them with scrambled eggs. A moment later there was a stack of toast and a bowl of strawberries where the centerpiece usually sat.
I blinked. “Wow. Thanks, Dad.”
He stared at me as if I might vanish. “I’ve already said this to Pru, but I want you to know I’m sorry I wasn’t able to protect you.” His hands fluttered uselessly between us. “I want to make this easier somehow.”
“You can’t.”
“That doesn’t mean I don’t want to.”
I stretched my good hand out to clasp his fingers in mine. “We’re okay.”
His eyes brimmed with unshed tears. “I love you, baby girl.”
Pru flattened her catalog. “I thought I was your baby girl.” She shot a teasing look across the table. “Don’t forget, she’s leaving you soon, but I’m not going anywhere.”
Dad made the sign of the cross and laughed. “Just the two of us. What will that be like?” He poured me the promised cup of coffee. “I might need backup.”
She didn’t argue.
I sipped bitter coffee and the fog over my thoughts thinned. “I never got to thank you for rescuing us. I’ve been too zonked out to say it, but you saved our lives.”
Dad slumped into his seat and dropped his head forward. He rolled his eyes up to meet mine. “I had a little help from your friends. Cross and the Lovells whipped into action like the church ladies at a bake sale when I told them you were missing. I never could’ve covered that kind of ground so quickly without them.”
Cross. I set the cup aside. “Have you heard from them?” Without my phone, I was cut off from the world. What if he wanted to talk to me?
Dad forked a bite of eggs. “You mean the persistent young man who comes to check on you every day at lunch?”
I smiled.
“How’s your head?”
“Fuzzy.”
“And your arm? Are the meds keeping the pain to a minimum because the doctor said he can increase the dosage if you need it.”
I examined the monstrous hot-pink cast. “The pain is fine. My arm is obnoxious, but this is my first broken bone, so it’s also historical. How long does it stay on?”
“Eight weeks.” He set his fork down. “You don’t have to leave for college right away. You can take a semester off, or a year. Let this whole ordeal settle before going off on your own. Let us support you while you heal. How will you manage a new life with one good arm and a bruised brain?”
Pru’s eager eyes burned through me.
I looked at Dad and then my sister. “I’m fine and I will be fine. My brain will fully recover in a few weeks and the cast comes off in two months. You don’t have to worry about me. I’ll be home as often as possible, and I’ll e-mail every day.”
Dad looked doubtful.
Pru perked up. “Can I stay with you on holidays and spring break?”
“No.” Dad’s blue eyes bulged. Poor guy. What would they do without me?
“I’ll come home on holidays and spring break.”
Pru stuffed a strawberry between her lips and frowned.
Dad touched the fingers poking out of my cast. “What if you get hurt again? How will I know you’re okay?”
I smiled. “Just trust me to make good decisions and have a little faith.”
He tugged my swollen pointer finger. “When did you get so grown-up and wise?”
“Oh, this family’s full of surprises. Besides, it’s time. This is my new life adventure.”
Four Months Later
Frost dusted the ground outside my dorm room. My roommates stood stubbornly at my sides, determined to meet the guy I never stopped talking about. An enormous black pickup rolled to the curb and the driver’s side door swung open. My friends’ giggles dissipated in the wintery air.
The driver swept me into a hug that sent fireworks through my heart. I hadn’t seen him since move-in day.
“Girls, this is Will Morris. Will, these are my roommates.”
Cross had dropped his nickname the moment he parted ways with the Lovells. He’d returned the necklace Nadya had given me too. I’d survived without the help of her talisman, and I planned to make a habit of it. If anything had intervened to save Pru and me from the Dobbs’ and the river, it was in answer to my desperate prayers, nothing else. In the days since the Lovells left St. Mary’s, I’d added them to my prayer list. The life they chose was tough, isolated, and unfair to the children who worked so hard for Nadya and Nicolae’s approval. I counted my blessings that Dad had a change of heart about Will when he saw how much Will cared for me and how I cared for him.
He’d applied his sixteen thousand dollar summer winnings from Red’s to set up a new life in Memphis. He got a tiny one-bedroom apartment and a giant truck. Priorities, I guessed. The first song he’d sung at Red’s had been picked up by a record label before Halloween. His dreams were coming true.
The girls opened and closed their mouths like fish in a bowl.
I smirked. It wasn’t like them to be at a loss for words. Then again, around Tennessee, college girls knew all the hot new artists and Will was making a name for himself playing the honky-tonk scene across the state. He hadn’t intended to be a country singer, but someone had to sing his songs, and everyone loved when he did. His smoldering voice curled toes, and those dark, soulful eyes gave every girl happy dreams.
I longed to trace the curve of his shoulders and tangle my hands in his sexy raven hair.
Will extended a hand to each of my roommates. “How do you do?”
They mumbled hellos and blushed.
My grades sometimes struggled and I wasn’t the biggest party girl, but clearly I won at boyfriends.
“See you guys in a week.” I gave each of my roomies a squeeze good-bye and climbed into the cab of Will’s truck. He tossed my bags in the back and stopped to look me over before shutting the door.
“Are you sure you don’t want to move in with me? I could drive you to school.”
I laughed. “You live five hours away.”
He kissed my nose. “Say the word and I’ll move closer.”
I wrapped my fingers in the collar of his soft leather jacket. “Why don’t I finish school and you keep being a big rock star. We’ll see what happens in four years. You might not even want me by then. I’ll be a poor, nerdy youth pastor.”
Will braced his hands on the open door frame and leaned into me, heating my skin with his nearness. Cinnamon and aftershave dazed my mind. Why did I tell him no? Memories of his body on mine stole my breath away. He pressed his lips to mine and I sighed. Right there on the street, he kissed me like he was making up for lost time. I melted into the kiss like it was water and I was lost in a desert.
He pulled away with an ornery smile. “I accept your offer. Give me four years to make something of myself.”
My friends gasped and whispered behind him.
A blush burned my cheeks. “Oh, yeah? What do you have in mind?”
“I have big plans in mind. I’m going be the one true love of a poor, nerdy youth pastor.” He kissed my forehead and shut the door.
My friends stared through the steamed window as Will jogged around the hood of his truck and climbed behind the wheel. “Until I can convince you of our seamless compatibility and destined union, how about we visit your family for Thanksgiving dinner as planned?”
I snapped my seat belt into place. “Well, we do have an eight-hour drive. I’m open to hearing more about this destined union of ours.”
His blessed dimple caved in.
The pickup roared to life and Will shifted into drive. I smiled at my hero, the one who’d saved me from myself. The one who’d met me where I was and pulled me out of the blackness. He’d given me hope and freedom when I’d forgotten what either word meant.
The world outside his truck looked like a snow globe, pristine and polka-dotted in white. I wove my fingers with his on the seat between us. It was an anything-is-possible kind of day.
Keep reading for a special sneak peek of Julie Anne Lindsey’s next novel:
A Lyrical e-book on sale June 2016.
Learn more about Julie Anne at http://www.kensingtonbooks.com/author.aspx/31621
What did I have to offer?
I’d answered the question dozens of times over the past two years. Colleges around the country all wanted to know. What can I contribute to their campus? The accurate answer was nothing. My bumbling essay answers weren’t much better. I needed what they had and not the other way around. Not that it mattered.
I swiveled in my desk chair, crossing too-long legs under a too-short desk. Sweat ran over my temples, despite the wildly spinning ceiling fan overhead. The brutal summer heat had dried up local creeks and forced Mark, my grandpa, to turn off the air conditioner while he was at work. He couldn’t afford to keep the house livable at these temperatures. He hated the electric bills. Mark hated everything.
I fingered a stack of rejection letters and tossed them at my best friend, Heidi. “I thought this summer would be amazing. So far, it’s just hot. And depressing.”
She flopped back on my bed, scattering pillows and raising the rejections overhead for inspection. “It’s not too late to come with me to Kent State. You have the grades, and they have a great film school.”
“Not this year.”
Mark had conveniently forgotten to apply for my federal student aid or complete any of the other financial aid paperwork I needed to leave town.
“Maybe next.”
Packing boxes lined the far wall, filled with winter clothes, tattered books, and keepsakes from my time at Roosevelt High School. “I’m not applying anywhere else until I’m eighteen. Once I’m on my own, I can do the paperwork.”
Heidi set the letters aside and lifted onto her elbows. Concern lined her freckled face. “Your grandpa didn’t finish the financial aid? He promised.” Her dead tone and sad eyes stung my heart. She still had hope for Mark.
“To be fair, he never promised. He grunted and left the room.”
Mark didn’t make a habit of speaking to me. Despite the fact I was his only family, we shared the century-old farmhouse in deafening silence. Him wishing I hadn’t been born and me in complete agreement.
I hoisted my camera from its bag and plugged it into my laptop.
Heidi rolled onto her front and crawled to my headboard, where I tacked and taped a few of my favorite photos. “Graduation.” She touched a trio of recent shots. “Look at Mr. Rand. He’s crying.”
“He wasn’t the only one. A few teachers were too. I guess they cared.”
“Small towns,” she whispered.
“Yep.” I let the p pop on my lips. “It was a good day.”
She pulled one photo loose and turned back to me. “I’m sorry your grandpa couldn’t make it.”
I wrinkled my nose. “Yeah. Well, Mom didn’t get to graduate.” Stubborn emotion clogged my throat. Everyone knew whose fault that was. Mine.
I turned stinging eyes to the computer screen and added a few new photos to my picture journal. “Did you see the butterfly garden opens this weekend?”
“I love that place. My mom’s taken me every summer since I was in diapers. Hey, you want to come? We can go opening day and get ice cream after.”
“Yes,” I spun to face her, “but guess who gets paid to go this time? Three hundred dollars for enough shots to make a publicity brochure.”
Heidi pounded her feet. “Shut. Up. That’s almost enough for your security deposit.”
“Yep.” I disconnected my camera and stuffed it back into its worn leather bag. The desktop image snapped back in place. New York Film Academy. A place I’d dreamed of attending since I learned of its existence in fourth grade.
I grabbed the packing tape and bounced to my feet. “I already have enough in savings to pay the difference plus first month’s rent. I just need to hurry up and turn eighteen so I can sign that lease agreement.” I dragged a line of tape across the top of one unsealed box.
Heidi squealed. “We’re going to have so much fun in your new apartment this summer. It’ll be even better in the fall, when you go to Kent with me.”
“There won’t be room for another freshman in the dorms by the time I have my birthday and apply. Kent’s too far to commute.” I glanced at my laptop. The flags outside the New York Film Academy billowed in the wind. “Next year, okay?”
She deflated. “At least try.”
“As soon as I move out, I can apply for financial aid based on my income and expenses, but there are no guarantees about space being available, and I’m awful at essay writing.”
“I’ll help.” She shoved the picture from my headboard at me. “Was this taken in town? I don’t think I know this place.”
“It’s in Cedar Creek. I went there to sell some of my old comics.”
“Oh.” She tapped the photo of a young mother and child against her palm. “You want to get out of here?”
“Can’t. I have to make dinner. Mark will be home soon, and he’ll be cranky.”
He worked as many hours as he could to make ends meet; though, it wasn’t clear where the money went. Most of my wardrobe was three years old, and I bought whatever I needed with money from the photography studio. As far as I could tell, he hadn’t bought anything new in eighteen years. More likely, money was another excuse to avoid the replacement daughter he never wanted.
“I’ll help. I mean, I can’t cook, but I can entertain.”
I swung the bedroom door open and cursed the stifling air. “Deal. Whatcha got?”
“How about some juicy gossip?”
Heidi followed me down the steps and through the house, rattling off details from the big bonfire last weekend. A town tradition for graduation night. “And…” She paused for dramatic effect as I lined hamburger patties on aluminum foil. “Guess who’s home for the summer?”
I lifted a shoulder. “Everyone?”
She poked me then pointed a silent finger at my backyard.
“Oh.” I stared through the kitchen window at a yellow cottage in the distance. “No.”
“Mm-hmm.”
Butterflies assaulted my stomach like a hoard of angry bees. “Great.” I lifted the tray and moved toward the back door, hoping she’d take the hint and open it.
She did.
We filed onto the back porch.
“Well?” she asked.
I set the tray on our patio table and lit the gas grill. “Well, that’s good. I’m sure his mother missed him while he was at school.”
Heidi swung her chin left and right. “You’ve had a crush on Dean Wells since eighth grade. He’s the literal boy next door, and you’ve never had a conversation with him. Don’t you think this is finally the time for that? You’re leaving town in a couple months.”
I rolled my eyes. “You’re the only one who thinks I still have a chance at starting college in the fall. Plus, he’s leaving too. He doesn’t live here anymore. He’s only visiting.”
“We’ll see.”
Whatever that means. I went back inside and opened the fridge.
Heidi perched on the counter, swinging bare feet. “Do you have any lemonade?”
“I can make some.” I piled lemons on the American cheese I pulled from the fridge.
“I’ll get the pitcher.”
Heidi rounded the corner to the dining room, her satin baby-doll blouse flowing behind her. “The blue one or the yellow?”
I followed. “Doesn’t matter.”
The china cabinet groaned with mismatched cups, plates, and serving things remnants of another life. “Yellow.”
She hefted one in each hand. Yellow would make the lemonade look more lemony. Blue would create a nice punch of color.
I opened and closed one palm in the universal sign for “gimmee.” “Art majors are the bane of my existence.”
She deliberated several seconds before handing me the yellow pitcher. “We also make the world more beautiful.”
“Uh-huh.” I turned for the kitchen.
Heidi wandered into the living room, where my mom’s senior photo hung over the mantel beside a picture of Mark and Grandma on their wedding day.
Heat rose up the back of my neck. “Don’t say it.”
“It’s just that you look so much like her.”
She always said it.
I kept moving.
Grandma died of breast cancer when Mom was a kid. Mom died of leukemia when I was one. She was seventeen.
Looking like Mom probably added to the list of reasons Mark didn’t look at me. I was a sad reminder of what he’d lost. What she’d sacrificed. I was already older than Mom ever had a chance to be. I got to graduate. If she’d agreed to treatment when they found out about her cancer, she might’ve lived. She’d watched her mom struggle through chemo and radiation. She didn’t think I’d make it. Stupidly, she’d bartered with Mark until he gave in. She’d agreed to any treatment they wanted after I was born. Mom was his world. Now he was stuck with me.
I cut lemons in half and dragged the sugar bowl to the sink.
“It’s not your fault.” Heidi filled the pitcher with water. “I know what you’re thinking. What you’re always thinking. No one knows what would’ve happened if she started treatment sooner. My mom says they didn’t find the cancer until it was already bad.”
The sleek blond hair in Mom’s photo was a wig. Her sunken cheeks and haunted eyes were doctored by the studio, but technology sucked then and the efforts were obvious. “If she hadn’t been hiding a pregnancy, she would’ve gone to the doctor and found out about the cancer in time to do something.”
We’d had this conversation so many times I’d memorized the script. I let it play out because I needed to hear it again.
“Katy.” She placed the pitcher gently beside my lemons. Her voice softened to a reassuring whisper. “It wasn’t your fault. None of this is your fault. Your grandpa’s not a bad guy. He’s just stubborn like you. He’s grieving a seventeen-year-old heartache and missing out on his chance to know an amazing, talented, hysterically funny you.”
I ran the pad of my thumb along the bottom of both eyes. “I’m hilarious.”
“Yep.”
“His loss.”
“Totally.”
My stomach knotted. Totally. “I think the grill’s ready.” I went outside and moved four hamburgers to the heated grill while she finished the lemonade. Heat rose from the lid like an apparition.
“There you are.” Mark’s gravelly voice scared the crap out of me. “Dinner ready?”
I pressed a palm to my chest. “Just a few minutes.”
He stepped onto the porch and the screen door banged shut with a smack. Beside me, he drove a rag around his face and over sweat-slicked hair. The factory where he worked was hotter than anyplace in town. Guilt raced through me for whining about our lack of air-conditioning. I could walk outside and enjoy the breeze or make lemonade with my friend. He had to work over molten steel inside a building that reeked of crude oil and Kerosene. His navy coveralls were lined in grease. The soles of his work boots were worn to the ground, smooth and flat where thick rubber used to be. He’d get them resoled again soon.
He caught me staring and lingered his gaze over me, as if he might say something more. My heart jumped into my throat. Maybe he was sorry he didn’t finish the FASFA papers or was thankful I made dinner.
“Mark?”
He batted bloodshot eyes and turned the corners of his mouth into a sour look. “I’m not hungry. I think I’ll go out to my shed.” He lumbered off the porch and across the lawn, rubbing his arm and occasionally the back of his neck.
Heidi opened the screen door and poked her head out. She scanned the yard where Mark was unlocking the padlock to his shed. “What do you think he does in there all the time?”
“Besides avoid me?” I flipped the burgers and dropped a slice of cheese on each. “I hope you like burgers. I suddenly have plenty.”
She slipped black cat-eye sunglasses over her nose and ferried two glasses of lemonade to the patio table.
I held my breath, praying she didn’t have to leave. Something in Mark’s eyes had unsettled me. Maybe because he seemed to see me for the first time.
Heidi dropped onto an empty seat and smiled, tucking tan legs beneath her. “Make mine a double.”