“I’m reading the new introduction,” she said, her voice far away.
She hunched her shoulders around the book so I couldn’t see it. So I waited, hovering over her, locking eyes with the nosy stock boy who was watching us. It was enough to cow him into looking away, for the moment.
Mom was icy stillness, lips parted, wide eyes scanning the pages. And then, all at once, she snapped into motion, tearing the book apart in a fevered frenzy.
I had to drag her from the store, everyone staring, but no one followed us, even though we hadn’t paid for the book she destroyed, even though there were stolen crackers peeking out from the neckline of my shirt—they were probably just relieved to be rid of us. Relieved that the woman with the red, watering eyes spitting obscenities while she threw ripped pages like confetti was solely my responsibility and no one else’s.
I got her back into the van and convinced her to lie down on the mattress. Her body heaved with sobs while I held her head in my lap until the parking lot outside the windows faded into night and she fell into a restless sleep.
Then I carefully pried the book from her hands. I looked at the ripped pieces of Ellis’s author photo on the back of the book, and it was so easy to be hypnotized by that earnest smile. To believe he wanted a happy ending for all of us, too.
Mom had done a thorough job of tearing the book apart, but there was just enough left for me to get the gist of the new introduction—what had sent Mom over the edge so quickly.
It was about one of Ellis’s mentors who was featured prominently in the original book. Pastor Mason Holland. He also happened to be Mom’s dad.
And according to this new introduction, he’d just been diagnosed with stage four lung cancer.
I was sitting at Pastor Holland’s kitchen table when he told me, Ellis wrote. The way he said it, it was like he was telling me that the Browns had, yet again, not made it to the playoffs. Something disappointing but inevitable and not worth dwelling over. “It is what it is.”
Ellis went on about how Pastor Holland’s bravery through his treatments has been such an inspiration to him. How he admired his unwavering faith and dedication to serving his community.
And he ended by sharing Pastor Holland’s recent decision to refuse any further treatment.
I’ve tried talking him out of it, of course. I’ve begged and pleaded. But the man is as stubborn as a brick wall. And he’s made his choice. So I’d like to dedicate this anniversary edition to him. To the man who lives on his own terms. Until the end.
I put the book down. And I let Mom sleep.
When she woke a few hours later, darkness pressing against the van’s windows, she said, “My father is dying.”
I could see the hopelessness pressing down on her shoulders. Her powerful fury of a few hours ago had dissolved into tears slipping meekly down her pale cheeks. “I haven’t spoken to him in years. Not since I left Jasper Hollow. Not since Ellis turned him against me. He told my father all those lies about me.”
She buried her face in a pillow, pushing herself down deep in her sadness, where I wouldn’t be able to reach her.
“I’ve almost gone back so many times to confront Ellis,” she said. “Make him tell my father the truth about what really happened. But I’ve never had the courage to face him. The last time I saw him—it was so awful, Phoenix. The worst day of my life. I still have nightmares about it. But now I’ve waited too long. My father is going to die thinking that I’m all the horrible things Ellis said I was.”
I’d seen her upset before, her emotions surging so intensely that she’d scream or break things. And afterward, all her energy spent, she’d go numb. Or at least, that’s how she’d look on the outside. Maybe she was just hardening against the rest of the world, against me, and retreating into herself.
Sometimes it would last for days. Other times, weeks. But at that moment—I’d never seen her this devastated. Never felt her shake so hard.
I leaned over her as if she were a child. I had realized long before that day that sometimes daughters have to take care of their mothers, even when they’re not sure how. So I grabbed her narrow wrists firmly, and I said, “Stop.” It must have been the way I said it, like an order. She was so startled, I think she stopped breathing. I put my hands on both sides of her damp face, and I told her, in that capable, steady voice that she sometimes used on me, the one that always made me feel safe, “Crying is not going to help us. Stop it.”
Wide-eyed, she blinked until the tears quit running. And then, she seemed to snap out of it, shaking her head.
“You’re right,” she said. Her lips curled unsteadily into something resembling a smile. “Being sad doesn’t do a damn thing for us, does it? We need to get angry. We need to fight back.”
That wasn’t exactly what I’d said, but I was pleased to take credit for it. Even more pleased to hear the strength returning to her voice. “Yes,” I agreed. “We’ll fight back.”
“We’re going to make sure my father knows the truth before—before it’s too late,” she said.
From that day on, the idea took root in her head like a weed, choking out all other thoughts and feelings and desires.
And maybe it did pull her away from me a bit more, her all-consuming obsession with the plan to make Ellis confess. More frequently, she started to lose herself for long stretches in her head, sometimes hardly uttering a handful of words to me for a week at a time. When I spoke, she didn’t seem to hear, and when I touched her hands, she’d irritably wave mine away.
But I knew that if I could just ride it out, if I could just get to Jasper Hollow and give her back her life, I’d get her back.
On the nights she did talk to me, there was this light in her eyes that I’d never seen before. And when someone looks at you like that, like they’ve just handed you their last little bit of hope, you don’t put it in your pocket like a river stone, taking it out every once in a while to run your thumb over when you remember it. You chain it around your neck so you can feel it beat in time with your heart, always.
Chapter 10
WHEN I SIT DOWN at the big, wooden table in the Bowmans’ kitchen, Neil sets a bowl of steaming beef-and-mushroom stew in front of me. Nausea still rolls deep in my stomach, but I need more time to think over my story, so I thank him and shovel it down.
The first few spoonfuls sear my throat. It’s not until the third or fourth bite that I really notice the taste. I’m used to eating from cans that have been wasting away in people’s pantries for God knows how many years. But this is definitely not from a can.
I slow down. I feel the thickness of it on my tongue. It’s been a long time since I’ve had anything homemade, and I have to close my eyes for a few seconds.
When I open them, they’re all staring at me, Neil watching the closest. He’s in the chair beside me with his elbows up on the table, looking pleased with his handiwork. Jill is on my other side, and Ellis settles in across from me.
Melody won’t come to the table. She leans against the counter with her arms crossed over her chest.
“Neil would be the head cook at the restaurant, if he had that kind of time,” Jill says.
“Restaurant?” I say. Of course, I already know all about it. Ellis’s books have made it famous enough that it wouldn’t be unusual to say I’d heard of it. But I don’t want them thinking that I’m some kind of crazed fan, like Melody suggested, so I think my best bet is to feign complete ignorance.
“The Watering Hole,” Jill says, a proud smile spreading on her face. “It’s a restaurant we own on the Circle.”
I nod, like I’m chewing on that new information.
The kitchen falls silent again. They’re all waiting for me to speak.
“The stew is great,” I say.
“Thank you,” Neil says.
“And your house is so lovely.”
Jill and Ellis glance at each other contentedly. “It’s home,” Ellis says.
Then they wait for more.
; So I put my spoon down, push the bowl aside, and I open with something true. “I told Neil that I was in town because I’m a photography student. But I lied.”
I glance at Neil, trying to gauge how he feels about my deception. His lips are pressed together, his eyes big, like he’s eager for me to give him a good reason. Eager to trust me. I wonder if it’s got something to do with his comment from earlier. She’s a little better than normal-looking.
I breathe in deep, like I need to collect myself. But really, it’s to cover the fact that I’m pulling all of this out of my ass as I go.
Mom has had to teach me a lot about lying over the years. It didn’t come naturally to me—she said I had too much trouble keeping my feelings off my face, so she used to coach me. I can hear her voice in my head now. Pause. Press your lips together. Look down.
“I never knew my parents,” I say. “They died in a car accident when I was very young.”
The same way Ellis lost his parents, I know from reading his books. I don’t dare look right at him, or it will all feel too contrived. But from the corner of my vision, I see him nod with a very serious frown.
“I’ve lived with my grandmother in Indiana for most of my life. We were really close. Until I came home last week from my part-time job at the grocery store, and she was asleep in her reading chair. I tried to wake her up to tell her she needed to nap in her bed. Her neck always got so sore when she slept in the chair. But when I shook her, she wouldn’t—”
I pretend that the words are too horrible to say, like they’ve lodged in my throat.
“Oh, honey,” Jill says, reaching out and covering my hand with hers.
It’s jarring to me, the easy touch. Sometimes, I think Mom withholds her affection like it’s a bargaining chip, and this woman gives it away to a stranger in a second. It takes me a moment to find my train of thought again.
“When I lost Grandma,” I continue, “I had nowhere else to go. I had no one. I knew I couldn’t afford our apartment on my own, and I just—I had to get out. Get away. So I packed a bag and took my camera. I knew it wasn’t really practical, but I wanted it so bad for Christmas last year that Grandma pawned half her jewelry for it. I couldn’t bear to leave it behind.”
Mom knows how to cry on command. The few times we’ve gotten caught stealing, I’ve seen her sob through her apologies when I knew with absolute certainty that she wasn’t sorry.
It’s a skill that I’ve never quite mastered, though I try hard to make it happen now. I scrub my hands vigorously over my face to bring out the red in my skin, and I bite down on my tongue so hard I draw blood. I’m satisfied that I at least get my eyes to water.
“God, she was the only person on the planet who cared about me. I didn’t really understand that until I was all on my own. Grandma and I didn’t have a car, so I just started walking. I hitched a ride from a nice-looking lady, and she took me over the state line before she stopped in the middle of nowhere and held a knife to my neck until I handed over all my stuff. But I wouldn’t give up the camera—it was the last thing my grandmother ever gave me. So I jumped out of the car and ran into the trees beside the highway before she could hurt me.”
I dart a quick glance around the table. The second I said the word knife, I sounded too melodramatic to my own ears, but thankfully, they seem to believe it. Jill has a shocked hand over her mouth, Neil’s head is tilted and his brow knitted with concern, and Ellis is still frowning and nodding gravely.
I peak at Melody still standing across the room, leaning against the counter, staring at me. And the flare of her nostrils says, Bullshit. Maybe she’s suspicious of everyone she meets, or maybe she’s just smarter than the rest of her family. Either way, three out of four is good enough for me.
“After that,” I go on, “I walked. I stuck close to the highway, but I stayed hidden in the trees, and I followed that path until I saw the sign for Jasper Hollow. And—”
I look up at the ceiling, like I’m trying hard to keep the tears from leaking out of my eyes.
“And do you know what it says on that sign?”
Jill and Ellis clasp hands on the table, Neil looks about ready to burst from smiling, and Melody rolls her eyes so hard, it looks painful.
“Welcome weary travelers,” Ellis says in a reverent whisper.
I nod, pressing my lips together and blinking hard a few times. And to my absolute delight, I manage to squeeze out a single tear that streams delicately down my cheek. “Welcome weary travelers,” I repeat. “And I was so weary. So tired. And hungry. When I walked across the bridge and into town, I smelled the bakery right away, and I was starving. I thought maybe I could get something with the change left in my pocket, but of course it wasn’t enough.”
I turn a warm, grateful smile on Neil. “That’s when your son stepped in to save me. You have no idea what that cinnamon roll and cup of coffee meant to me, Neil. It was the first time anyone has shown me kindness since I left home. The first time I’ve felt hope since—”
My breath hitches, and I briefly squeeze my eyes shut, taking a moment to collect myself.
“Since Grandma died,” I finish.
“Sweetie,” Jill says softly, “is there any family we can contact for you? Someone you can stay with?”
“No one.”
Ellis rubs at the stubble on his chin. “Well. I suppose we should get a social worker involved.”
“I’m eighteen,” I lie. “And I’ve got nobody.”
The Bowmans meet the weight of that statement with somber silence.
I shrug and say, “I guess that’s why I followed Neil home. Because he’s the only person who’s been nice to me. I don’t want to take advantage of that kindness, and I don’t expect any more. I just—I don’t know what to do now, or which direction to turn next. I’m so sick of feeling invisible and lost and like if I got hit by a car tomorrow, not a single person would give a—” I pause. Swallow. “Would care. I just want to feel like somebody cares.”
I fold my hands on the table in front of me and press my lips together to signal the end of my story.
I don’t have to wait long for a response.
After barely a beat of silence, Neil angles his chair toward his parents like he’s ready to make a case for me. “Listen, you’re always telling us how important it is to help people who need—” he starts.
“I think Dad and I should discuss—” Jill cuts in.
But then Ellis stands, his chair legs scraping against the floor, and the kitchen falls silent, all of us turned toward him and waiting for him to speak.
He looks down at me and says, “You came to the right town. Jasper Hollow is a community. We look out for each other. And now that you’re here, we’re going to look out for you. Now you finish your dinner. We’ll get the guest room ready for you.”
The guest room.
I thought I might guilt him into paying for a hotel room for a few nights. The most I had hoped for was a place where I could take a hot bath, meet with Mom, reconfigure the plan.
But he’s inviting me to stay in his own home.
My brain is scrambling, trying to figure out what this all means. Apparently, so is everyone else in the room. Melody is the first to react, a mixture of anger and incredulity darkening her face.
Jill’s reaction is subtler, but the twist of her mouth is clear. Ellis just went completely over her head, making a decision for the whole family. She won’t argue with him in front of me—it’s too late to uninvite me now—but she gives her husband a look that says, We’ll discuss this later.
But Ellis doesn’t seem cowed in the least, just nods at her with an easy smile when she says, “I’ll get some clean sheets,” and walks out of the room with a sweep of her long skirt.
Neil jumps up from his chair and adds, “Towels. For the guest bathroom.” He exchanges a triumphant glance with me before he disappears down a dark hallway.
Ellis looks pointedly at his daughter, who’s still leaning against the counter. They stare
each other down for a moment. Then her eyes settle on mine, and I silently will her to tell him this is a bad idea.
“Mel,” he says. “Maybe some of your clothes would fit Phoenix?”
With one last scowl at me, she walks out of the kitchen.
And then I’m alone. With him.
He gives my shoulder a firm squeeze with his large hand, his wedding ring glinting gold. “Mellie takes some time to warm up to people,” he says. “Don’t take it personally.”
“I won’t.”
It’s an effort to keep my breathing steady. I grip my chair hard and try not to turn and look out the window, where I’m sure Mom is watching.
“You don’t have to do this, sir. Really. I saw an inn in town. Maybe that would be better. I don’t want to put you out—”
“Nonsense. You’ve been through enough. We’re going to make sure you’re taken care of. That’s what Bowmans do.”
Mom and I have been on the road for almost half of my life. If I’ve learned anything in all that time, it’s that nothing, nothing is free. Especially not for people like me. You either steal it, or you pay for it. And the life of a thief has its own costs. Nobody just gives you anything—you usually just don’t know the price until it’s too late.
Ellis Bowman wants something from me. I simply don’t know what it is yet.
The plan has shifted, but my purpose hasn’t. My job is to learn everything I can about Ellis Bowman and help Mom unravel him until he tells the truth. We won’t leave Jasper Hollow until he admits to everyone what he did to her.
And if we make him feel as much pain and fear as she felt and get a little revenge along the way, then that’s a bonus.
I look up into his face, at a smile sweet enough to end a war, and I know the truth won’t come easy. He’s been hiding what happened for so many years. And things won’t go well for him once it all comes out.
Finally, he lets go of me, walking down the hallway after his family with his hands tucked in his pockets. Over his shoulder, he says, “You can stay as long as you need to, Phoenix.”
-
Just a few minutes later, Jill is fussing over the pillows in the guest room like they’ll be softer if she hits them enough. Ellis leans in the doorway and asks, “Need anything else?”
The Hollow Inside Page 6
