The Hollow Inside

by Brooke Lauren Davis

  I look up at the window and see a pale face with dark eyes peering through the glass.

  I scramble to slide it open, and I reach for her, but Mom steps just out of my grasp to stand to the side of the window. “In case anyone comes in,” she whispers.

  The humidity has made her hair tangle and curl like vines around her face. She claws the mosquito bites running up and down her arms when she says, “Tell me everything.”

  I don’t want to admit that I haven’t found out much in the past few days, so I focus on the church service. “Ellis brought me up in front of everyone to brag about how he’s letting me stay with him. Good PR after the accident.”

  She nods, grim. “Sounds like Ellis.”

  I hesitate before I tell her the next part. “I met Pastor Holland.”

  She’s stuck in a thoughtful silence for a few moments after I mention him. “How did he look?” she asks.

  I pause to think over my answer, but her gaze sharpens on me, cutting out the truth. “Like he’s trying to look strong. But after the service, he was tired. Like he’d run a mile.”

  She nods. I expect her to ask me more about him, but she moves on quickly. “Does Ellis still play piano at the church services?”

  I shake my head. “His son does now.”

  “Interesting,” she whispers.

  I wait for her to share what’s so interesting about it. But instead, she gets lost in thought, muttering to herself. As she starts to turn away from me, I grab her wrist.

  “What are we going to do?”

  She stares down at my hand gripping her arm until I let go.

  “You are going to wait,” she says. “Let me worry about the rest.”

  “But I can help—”

  “You need to be patient,” she says, her tone hovering at the edge of her own patience.

  “Is this because I got caught in the woods?” I say. “You don’t trust me anymore.”

  Mom closes her eyes. Takes a deep breath, in and out through her nose.

  “Fine,” she says. “If you want a job, then you can look for something that might remind Ellis of me. Something no one else will recognize but him. Something we can plant to scare him.”

  A pleased smile flushes my face when I remember. “I already have something.”

  I reach under my mattress and come back to the window with the blue velvet bow I found in Ellis’s office.

  She stares at it in my hand for a long time, her face wiped blank, and for a moment I worry that maybe it isn’t the same bow she told me about. Then, slowly, she takes it from me. And with shaking hands, she pins it in her tangled hair.

  I wonder if I shouldn’t have given it to her. If I’ve pushed her even further back in time, further away from me. But then she reaches through the window and gives me a tight hug.

  “Thank you,” she whispers.

  I bury my face in her hair.

  “Keep looking for more,” she says. “Just like—”

  Both of us freeze at the knock on my bedroom door.

  I hurry to slide the window shut and dive into bed, and by the time I look back at the window, Mom is gone.

  “Yeah?” I say.

  Melody takes that as an invitation to come in. The room is dark, but the light from the hallway shines in her hair. “I thought I heard voices,” she says.

  “I talk in my sleep sometimes.”

  As soon as it’s out of my mouth, I realize that there’s no way I look like I was just sleeping. My cheeks are hot, every muscle tense.

  She stares at me for a minute. My heart pounds so fast from almost getting caught that I can hardly breathe, so I say, “What?” with a little more venom than I mean to.

  “I—” she says.

  She pauses. Tries again.

  “Well, I’m here because I’m just—”

  For a moment, she looks like she’s about to bolt, taking a step away from me.

  Then, resolute, she comes all the way into the room and blurts, “I’m sorry.”

  The apology tumbles out of her so quickly, I almost don’t catch it. Like holding it in her mouth burnt her tongue, so she needed to get it out as fast as she could.

  “For being a bitch to you,” she goes on. “I was tired. I’m so tired, I can barely think.”

  “Hmm.” I nod. I should say more, but I have to take a deep breath to slow everything down in my head—to remind myself that even though we were half a second from disaster, it wasn’t a disaster.

  But Melody must think I’m still mad at her, because she sighs, shutting the door softly behind her. “Okay, so it’s not just about tonight. I’ve been an asshole since you got here. I know. And I’m sorry about all of that, too.”

  “You’re just saying that because you want my help with the cookies.”

  She takes a minute to answer, her lower lip caught between her teeth. “Maybe that’s part of it,” she admits. She looks down at the floor, the heel of her sock grinding against the wood. “The other part is that I’ve been thinking about the way Pastor Holland treated you at church the other day.”

  She clears her throat before she sits down on the edge of the bed, as far away from me as she can be without falling off. But she meets my eyes in the dark when she says, “He’s a sad, hateful bastard. I probably shouldn’t say that about a sick person, but it’s true. My dad says that he’s got nobody anymore, so he’s used to doing things his own way. But that doesn’t mean he’s allowed to treat you like shit, and I don’t want to be a sad, hateful bastard like him. So maybe I shouldn’t have decided you were up to something the minute you got here. Because that’s exactly what Pastor Holland did when he found out about you, and now I just feel—sorry.”

  If I were really a lost girl the Bowmans took in, the girl they think I am, this would be some kind of defining moment. Like I’d finally been accepted into the family.

  I’m not lost, and I’m not interested in being a Bowman. But she does look exhausted, her voice thin and shaky with it. So I take pity on her.

  I get out of bed and walk past her, toward the kitchen. “You’re lucky I have a soft spot for girls with bad attitudes.”

  She snorts but doesn’t try to argue with me.

  “Does this mean we’re friends now?” I ask over my shoulder.

  This is when somebody like Neil would say, I’d like that.

  Melody answers with just enough bite. “I never said that.”

  I can’t stop myself from laughing. I bark so loud that she hisses at me to shut up or I’ll wake the whole house. Which makes me laugh even harder.

  After Ellis decided he didn’t want her anymore, Nina cried for weeks in her locked bedroom and in the bathroom at school. She sniffled at the dinner table and wouldn’t touch any food. And despite her father’s numerous attempts to discern exactly what the problem was, he still had absolutely no idea.

  Then one night, when she refused to eat her spaghetti after the third time he’d asked her what was wrong, he slammed his fist down on the table and told her, “That’s enough.”

  She looked up at him through her wet lashes.

  “I’m going to guess this is about that Bowman boy.”

  Her throat felt like it had been squeezed shut. He knows he knows he knows.

  “You should have listened to me. You should have stayed away from dating just a little while longer. This is the kind of hurt I was trying to protect you from, you know.”

  No, she realized. There was no way he knew. Not about how far she’d gone or who she’d gone there with. Because if he did, he wouldn’t be giving her the soft look he was giving her now. He thought she was upset over Jameson.

  He took her hand across the table, and that made her cry harder. So he went to her and put his big arms around her, and she squeezed him back and said, “I’m sorry, Daddy.”

  “We’ve all done things we aren’t proud of, sweetheart. Just be thankful this wasn’t a mistake you can’t come back from.”

  “I’m sorry,” she sobbed again into h
is shoulder.

  “Stop that. Stop that right now.”

  He held her for a long time, until he finally coaxed her into eating her dinner. Afterward, he talked her into leaving the house, and he even managed to make her laugh once on the way to Annie’s Market to get a tub of mint chocolate chip ice cream. They ate at a picnic table in the Circle, nestled safely between the mountains and the warm night, watching the stars that watched over them.

  Her father took her out for ice cream once a week after that, even after the weather turned cold. He would stay up late in the living room with her every evening so they could watch TV or read or talk. When she asked him about it, he said, “I’ve heard that it’s a bad idea to leave someone alone when—when they’re having a hard time.”

  She smiled at that. She liked his company.

  Finally, she began to see it—she didn’t really want Ellis. It became so clear to her, now that he held her at a distance. He’d never been the man she thought he was, the man everyone thought he was. He’d lied to his wife about where he’d gone on the nights he was with Nina. He’d lied to Nina when he told her he loved her. He lied to the whole town every time he walked into church with his beautiful little family, everyone admiring the perfect life he’d built.

  Nina had fallen in love with the man Ellis Bowman pretended to be. But that man had never existed, or he never would have been with her in the first place.

  Once she understood that, moving on was easier. She went back to her old life, to listening to her father practice his sermons, and writing essays that her English teacher told her would make her shine at whatever college she chose, and drawing mythical birds that were too magnificent to be real.

  She’d been heartbroken for a little while, but the world had not quite ended. Her father still loved her, and her life was still waiting to unfold in front of her, and she was going to be just fine.

  Until the day it occurred to her that maybe she wasn’t.

  That something was different.

  Off.

  That night, she told her father she had a headache and went to bed early. Then, when she was certain he’d gone to his own room, she snuck out her window and walked to Annie’s Market just before it closed.

  She went directly to what she needed. And then she hid the little box behind her back when she went to the register. Annie gave her a familiar smile, and when Nina leaned in to whisper something to her, Annie leaned in, too.

  “You can’t tell my dad what I’m buying.”

  Annie laughed, but Nina didn’t.

  Annie asked, “Why not?”

  Nina put the pregnancy test on the counter, and Annie’s hand went over her mouth, muffling a strangled sound that made Nina’s stomach turn.

  “It’s not for me,” Nina said quickly. “Do you remember my cousin? The one who came with me to church last week? She begged me to get this for her. She was too embarrassed to get it herself.”

  “But she couldn’t be older than—”

  “She’s seventeen. And she wants to keep it a secret until she’s sure. If my dad finds out, he’ll tell her parents, and she’ll never forgive me. Can you promise me you won’t say anything?”

  “She should really talk to her parents.”

  “She will. When she’s sure. Do you promise?”

  Annie hesitated before she nodded.

  Nina went home with the box shoved down the front of her jeans. Her father was already in bed, but she didn’t take it out until she was in the bathroom.

  She stayed there for an hour afterward, crying quietly and pulling her hair and biting at her knuckles until they bled. She threw up only once, and it settled her stomach just enough for her to gather the box and the stick and sneak out into the woods. She buried them far away from the house.

  Chapter 20

  MELODY AND I BAKE until three in the morning, and it feels like my head has just touched the pillow when there’s a soft knock at my door. Apparently, the Dawn Festival really starts before dawn.

  Neil pokes his head through the door with his customary smile and a soft greeting. “Hey, there,” he says, like he’s waking an infant from a nap.

  I press my bare feet to the cold wood floor. “Give me five minutes.”

  We’re on the road in ten, brown sugar still crusted under my fingernails. Everyone is quiet in the car, all of us muffled by the thick fog of sleep. But some silences are more content than others. Melody sits beside me with her tangled curls scraped up into a ponytail, scowling out the window at all the shadowed trees that zip past.

  Neil gives me a whispered rundown of how the Dawn Festival works. First, everyone sits in church to listen to the story of the founding of Jasper Hollow. It’s usually Pastor Holland’s job, but it’s one of the few duties that he’s begrudgingly passed on to Pastor Matthew, his trainee. Then everyone goes outside to watch the sun rise over Mattie Mountain, just as Will Jasper supposedly saw it when he decided to build his church. The festival part starts later, down in the Circle, with a Ferris wheel and booths for food, games, and crafts.

  Even with the building’s expansion, the church is still only big enough to cram less than half the people inside. The ones left on the church lawn don’t seem too put out, though. Their folding chairs and picnic blankets dot the hillside in the dark, lit just enough by string lights draped between the trees. They all chatter and laugh and shout hello to their friends, louder than anyone ought to this early in the morning.

  I expect to join them on the grass because we’re one of the last families here, but Ellis walks us right up to the door, where Pastor Matthew clasps his hand and leads us to reserved seats. I should have known Jasper Hollow would make sure its favorite citizen had an honorary place in the front row.

  But then I see who’s saving the seats, and I understand why everyone else steered clear.

  Pastor Holland shakes Ellis and Neil’s hands, hugs Jill and Melody, and pretends that I don’t exist. He sits at one end of the family, and I sit at the other. Which suits me fine.

  Just a minute later, Neil trots onstage to take his place at the piano, and the whole room quiets when he brushes his deft fingers over the keys. Pastor Matthew takes the microphone and says, “Good MORNING!” so bright and loud that I grit my teeth.

  Neil sets the tone with a hopeful melody while Pastor Matthew tells us about the day Will Jasper first came here with his family in 1851, not a possession to speak of besides his tool chest and a dream to build his own church. He was scouting out the perfect spot when he crested Clara Mountain—right where you sit today!—and saw the sun rising over Mattie.

  “Rumor has it, he threw down his hat, dropped to his knees, and didn’t rise again for an hour.” Pastor Matthew points to the slab of wood hanging over the piano and adds, “The very next thing he did was carve out this sign.”

  I feel Melody’s head nod against my shoulder, her breathing slow and her hair tickling my neck.

  I shrug her off. “If I have to stay awake through this, so do you.”

  She stifles a yawn and rolls her head back against the pew. “I’ve heard this story before. Seventeen times, to be exact.”

  Then she leans toward me and adds in a whisper, her hot breath grazing my ear, “They never tell the whole thing, anyway. I did a research report about it once. See, I read Will Jasper came here because he owed some money to people in Virginia. He did build the church, but the strangers who passed through for a visit said his sermons were . . . ​unusual. He’d roll his eyes up in the back of his head and say God was talking through him. And once, God told him to walk right up to a man, put his hands around his throat, and tell him to leave town before the next sunrise or be damned.”

  I gasp, like we’re gossiping about someone we know.

  “The man skipped town that night. And Will’s sweet little wife, Harriet, hung herself from the oak tree in the Circle the very next day. He was her lover.”

  “Jesus. Really?”

  “It gets crazier,” she says. “Some men
came from North Carolina not long after, claiming Jasper robbed a bank. He ran away before they could get their hands on him. No one ever heard from him again.”

  Pastor Matthew is still going on in the background of our conversation, talking about how Ulysses S. Grant may or may not have stayed at the Dusty Rose Inn on the Circle. (The messy signature scrawled in the guest book makes it hard to say for certain.)

  “Maybe you should tell everyone the rest of the story,” I whisper back to Melody. “It’s a lot more interesting.”

  “People around here don’t care much for the truth.”

  Matthew goes on cheerfully, “The town’s construction was all planned around the favorite tree of Mr. Jasper’s beloved wife, Harriet. And that’s how we got our Circle. They started with a general store.” He points to Annie, who grins and waves her hand high. “The same building where Miss Annie’s grocery store is now. Then the blacksmith’s, where Sonny sells his baskets today. And the schoolhouse—”

  Suddenly, Melody surges to her feet beside me, hissing in a breath between her teeth.

  Someone else screams.

  And the sign Will Jasper carved falls from its cables and makes a bone-shaking crash when it splits the piano down the middle.

  The discordant, high-pitched ring of the snapped piano wires keeps sounding long after the crash, the background noise to hundreds of people swarming, screaming, running for the door like they’re afraid the whole roof is caving in.

  Melody, Jill, and Ellis have already rushed the stage before I’ve stood around blinking long enough to understand what just happened. Through breaks in the crowd, I see Neil lying flat on his back on the stage, his father kneeling over him, cupping his son’s face in his hands.

  But then, Ellis laughs. Nervous and unsteady, but a laugh. And he helps Neil to his feet, slowly, clapping his shoulder. Neil brushes off wood splinters before he waves his hands at the crowd to let them know he’s okay. The whole room breaks into applause.

  I remember last night. Mom at my window—when she asked me if Ellis still played piano at the church. I told her it would be Neil this time.