“I got mad new skills,” I purred, only half kidding. “You’d be astonished.”
“Is that right?” he said slowly. Kyle tilted his head and studied me through narrowed eyes. “What other talents have you been hiding from me?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” I fluttered my eyelashes.
“Sunny,” he said in the exact same reproachful tone he and Jake used when I was fifteen and said something that scandalized them.
It was past time for Kyle Chamberlain to figure out that I wasn’t a kid anymore. I stepped close and laid my palms on his chest. “Ask yourself, after all these years, why are you just now wondering about my hidden talents?”
He blinked and his Adam’s apple bobbed. Good. I’d confounded him. It was a start.
Whirling around, I started toward the side yard. Kyle caught up and led the way through a gate in the fence. His walk had changed during the past months, his stride purposeful as he stalked toward the back porch. Were his shoulders wider, too? I mentally fanned myself.
We walked around an overgrown flower bed until we came to a small patio. A single step led to a wooden back door. Four glass windowpanes filled the top half of the door. The interior shades were drawn, blocking our view into the house.
“If we can’t jimmy the lock, we can break the glass,” Kyle said. He tried the knob and when it didn’t turn, I handed him the crowbar. He took a credit card from his wallet, pried open the door with the crowbar, and slid the card through the latch.
“Talk about mad new skills,” I muttered. The old Kyle would never have used a credit card to break into a locked house.
He flashed a self-satisfied grin, one that made my toes curl. “You’re not the only one with hidden talents, Sunshine.” Triumph turned to aggravation when he tried to push the door open. “Something is jammed under the knob.” He grunted, shoving hard against the wood. After a minute, whatever it was gave way, and the door swung open. We stepped inside and found a kitchen chair lying on its side on the linoleum.
“Somebody blocked the door from the inside,” I observed. If the homeowners had barricaded the house before succumbing to the flu, the place would have reeked of death. I sniffed. The air smelled musty, not putrid. I scanned the room. Mason jars filled with canned fruits and vegetables covered the counter. A spoon protruded from an open jar half full of peaches.
We weren’t alone.
Catching Kyle’s eye, I angled my head toward the counter. He reached for his gun.
“Ahhh!”
A small figure brandishing a baseball bat burst through the arched opening to the hallway. Matted reddish-blond hair tumbled around the shoulders of a little girl who rushed straight for Kyle, wielding the bat like a war club.
Kyle pivoted toward her, raising his weapon.
Oh, crap.
SIX
Kyle
“No,” Sunny shrieked, launching herself between the girl and me. She grabbed the bat, wresting it out of the girl’s hands and tossing it onto the floor.
I shoved the Glock into the holster. Oh, man, that was close. All my lessons with Ripper—all his reminders about keeping my finger off the trigger and making sure of my target before I fired—really paid off big-time. I’d come this close to shooting a kid.
I leaped forward and grappled with the girl, locking her arms against her sides in a bear hug. Hissing and spitting, she flailed against me.
“Nobody is going to hurt you,” I gritted out. “I promise.”
“Lemme go.” The little spitfire writhed in my grip. Hard to believe that a kid who barely reached my chest could put up such a fight. I tightened my hold, careful not to squeeze too hard. The last thing I wanted to do was to hurt her or let her hurt herself while she fought against me.
“I’ll let you go as soon as you calm down,” I said.
She stomped on my foot.
“Sweetheart,” Sunny said in a soothing tone. “It’s all right. We don’t mean you any harm.”
Ignoring Sunny’s comforting words, the girl continued to struggle. She banged her head against my chest and kicked at my shins. “Cut it out,” I grunted.
Sunny stepped forward and caught the child’s face between her palms. “Hey. Look at me.” When the kid stopped thrashing, Sunny offered a reassuring smile. “You’re okay. We’re nice people. We want to help.”
“Don’t need help,” the girl muttered, her brows drawn down in a scowl. “I can take care of myself.” Her grubby appearance gave the lie to that assertion. Dirty, tangled hair hung past her shoulders. Her clothes could use a wash. Shoot, she could use a wash. The kid positively reeked.
“My name is Sunny, and this is my friend Kyle. Do you promise to hold still if Kyle lets you go?”
I wasn’t so sure that I trusted any promise the kid made, but I didn’t want to contradict Sunny after she got the girl to stop squirming.
“Okay,” the girl said, her tone begrudging.
“Kyle.” Sunny shot me a pointed look.
I released the little girl but braced myself to grab her if she struck out again or tried to run. She backed up against a cabinet.
“What’s your name?” Sunny asked gently.
A long pause. The kid’s inner struggle showed on her face, and her gaze darted between Sunny and me. “Ever,” she finally said.
“Ever,” Sunny repeated. “That’s a pretty name.”
The girl nodded, agreeing with Sunny. “Mom said they named me Ever because I’m the best girl ever.”
The best girl ever had just tried to bean me with a baseball bat. She blinked and shifted from foot to foot, like a jackrabbit ready to bolt. Crap. I could only imagine what had happened in the past few months to make the kid so skittish.
I dropped down on my haunches so I wouldn’t tower over her. “Where’s your mom now, Ever?” I asked.
Wrong question. Her face flushed, then crumpled. Tears welled in her eyes. She bent forward, hugging her stomach while she gasped for breath.
Sunny rushed to her side. She stretched out a hand, as if she wanted to comfort the girl, but hesitated before touching her. “I’m sorry, sweetie.”
Ever lifted her head and studied my friend’s face. Maybe the girl recognized genuine kindness and concern. Maybe she was worn down by loneliness and deprivation. Whatever the reason, with a sob, she flung herself into Sunny’s embrace. Sunny dropped to the floor and wrapped her arms around the weeping child. Rocking back and forth, Sunny murmured soothing words to the little girl.
Sunny had a big heart. She was the girl who sat by an unpopular kid on the school bus, or who smiled and patted a chair, welcoming a new student to join her table in the cafeteria. The end of the world brought out the worst in some people—hardened folks and turned them against each other—but it hadn’t changed Sunny. Not entirely sure that was a good thing. I’d witnessed some crazy shit during the past four months, seen good people victimized by predators. How long until my kindhearted friend found herself face-to-face with the wrong person? Protectiveness roared through me. If somebody hurt her… if she had to carry the memories of the kind of violence that kept me awake at night…
Valhalla called me home. I’d head back today if I could, but leaving Sunny behind in Boise was impossible.
Ever finally cried herself out. She wiped her nose on the sleeve of Sunny’s shirt, then looked at me, her red-rimmed eyelids puffy.
“Have you been living here all by yourself?” I asked, trying again to connect with the girl.
Ever sniffed and bobbed her head “This is my grandma’s house. She came to stay with us when she got sick. She died, and then mom and dad died.” Her eyes filled with tears again, and she trembled. Sunny rubbed the girl’s shoulders.
What a freaking nightmare for the kid. Alone with three bodies. No wonder she fled her home. “And you decided to come back to Grandma’s house,” I guessed.
“I couldn’t stay there,” she said in a low voice. “I found Grandma’s keys in her purse. My red wagon—the one I played with when I wa
s little—was in the garage. So, I filled it up with food and clothes and stuff. I got my softball bat, and I pulled my wagon to Grandma’s house.”
My blood chilled at the thought of the girl pulling a wagon full of food through a dying city with nothing but a softball bat to defend herself.
Sunny’s eyes met mine, her expression revealing the same horror I felt. “And you’ve been living alone at Grandma’s house ever since?” she asked.
“Uh-huh.”
“You’re a brave little girl,” I said.
“I’m not a little girl,” she said, indignation stamped across her face. “I’m nine.”
I dipped my head apologetically. “I beg your pardon.”
“What about food?” Sunny asked. “What did you do when you ran out of food?”
“I used to help Grandma can fruits and vegetables and meat,” Ever said. “Grandma wouldn’t let me touch the pressure canner, but I’d fill the jars and wipe the rims. There’s lots and lots of jars of food and juice in the basement. Peaches are my favorite.”
“You’ve done an amazing job taking care of yourself,” Sunny said.
“The way you used a chair to block the door was really smart,” I added.
Ever’s gaze moved from Sunny to me. “Is Sunny your girlfriend?”
At the innocent question, my shoulders stiffened. Before today, I’d never considered it, never wondered what it would be like if Sunny were mine.
“Kyle and I are friends,” Sunny said quickly. “We’ve known each other since we were your age.”
“Yeah, but is he your boyfriend?” Ever persisted.
“No, he’s not my boyfriend,” Sunny said. “But he’s one of the people I love best in the whole wide world.”
I cast a sideways glance at Sunny. The McAllisters were unabashedly demonstrative. Jake had ended every conversation with his parents with an “I love you.” I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that Sunny declared her love for an old friend.
Still, illogical disappointment punched me in the gut. When she laid her hands on my chest and talked about hidden talents, I thought—shit—I wondered if maybe Sunny was flirting with me. I must have read that exchange entirely wrong. Not her boyfriend, but one of the people she loved best in the entire world. Friendzoned before it ever occurred to me to make a move.
“Okay.” Ever shrugged, accepting the answer at face value.
“Now that we’ve found you, Ever, we don’t want to leave you here all alone,” Sunny said.
“Do you want me to go home with you?” Ever asked, a hopeful expression on her face.
“No, sweetie, that wouldn’t work. I have a better idea,” Sunny answered. “Let’s pack up your clothes and a box of your grandma’s canned food, then we’ll take you to meet a very nice friend of mine.”
Twenty minutes later, Sunny steered the van onto a dead-end residential street. She parked Daisy in the driveway of a single-story, slate-colored house with garish pink shutters. “Grab your backpack,” she told Ever with a smile. “Kyle and I will carry the boxes.”
We climbed out of the van and walked to the front door. In a window, a lace curtain twitched, and someone peeked out at us. The front door flew open, and an elderly woman stood in the doorway, a huge smile wreathing her face. An enormous cat rubbed against her leg.
“Sunny, you brought me company!” she exclaimed. She clasped her hands together and beamed at Ever. “Who is this young lady?”
I suspected that after months alone, Ever might turn shy and hide her face against Sunny’s side. Instead, the girl stepped forward, extending her hand for a formal handshake. Somebody had drilled manners into the kid. “Hello. My name is Ever van der Linden.”
The elderly woman seized the child’s hand. “Pleased to meet you, Ever van der Linden. Sunny calls me Mrs. B. Why don’t you call me that, too? Now come inside and have a biscuit.”
“Okay.” Without a backward glance, Ever tagged along behind Mrs. B. Sunny and I deposited the boxes in the foyer, then followed the pair into the living room.
Yowza. The old lady loved pink, didn’t she? Pink shutters on the house, a pink front door, pink curtains covering the living room window, and so many pink pillows on the sofa that you’d have a hard time finding a place to park your butt. Ceramic figurines—each one sitting on a fancy doily—crowded the tabletops and dotted the many bookshelves that lined the room.
Ever’s legs dangled from a wicker rocking chair that she’d set in motion by throwing her weight back and forth. Sunny parked her adorable butt on a needlepoint-covered hearth bench. Mrs. B. perched on the edge of a sofa. The tiny woman patted the cushion next to her. “Come sit by me, young man. It’s been too long since I last had a handsome fella to keep me company.”
I shoved a frilly pillow out of the way and dropped down next to Mrs. B. The fluffy cat hopped onto the coffee table, extended a hind leg, and began to groom itself, keeping one eye firmly on me.
“My name’s Kyle,” I said, remembering my manners. “Nice to meet you, Mrs. B.”
She turned to Sunny, her eyes wide. “This is the Kyle?”
The Kyle.
Sunny’s cheeks flushed a bright pink that rivaled the curtains. “Yes,” she said quickly. “You remember, I told you that Kyle was my brother’s best friend.”
“Oh, I remember everything you told me about Kyle, dear.” Mrs. B. picked up a box of shortbread cookies from the coffee table and offered me one. “Biscuit?”
“Thank you, ma’am.” I took a cookie and glanced at Sunny, who was studiously picking at a loose thread on the needlepoint bench. Wheels turned in my head. Sunny had talked to Mrs. B. about me, and whatever she had said made her turn a beautiful shade of pink. Maybe she had been flirting after all.
Ever stopped rocking. “What’s the kitty’s name?”
“His name is Fitzwilliam.” Mrs. B. extended the box of cookies toward Ever, who stood and helped herself to one before plopping back in the chair. “If you pat your legs, Fitzwilliam might decide to sit on your lap. Or not. Cats are willful creatures, and they don’t always do what they’re told.”
Ever giggled. “I’m a willful creature, too.”
I smiled to myself. Ever and Sunny both.
Mrs. B.’s eyes sparkled. “As am I. I suspect that you and I are going to be great friends, Ever van der Linden.”
“Yup,” Ever agreed. She patted her lap. Fitzwilliam turned his head and studied her for a moment before returning to his ablutions. “Willful creature,” Ever repeated with a grin. She stuffed the cookie in her mouth and recommenced her energetic rocking.
I looked at the books piled next to the cat on the coffee table. Pride and Prejudice. No surprise there. Who else but an Austen fangirl would name her cat after Mr. Darcy? A biography of Napoleon. Huh. The Art of War by Sun Tzu. My brows drew together at that title. Odd choice for a flirtatious little old lady obsessed with pink.
I glanced over at Sunny and imagined her curled up in bed on a pile of pillows. What did Sunny like to read before she fell asleep? Romances, like Kenzie? Biographies? Or something else? Curiosity stirred in me. There was still so much to discover about my old friend.
“Ever has been living by herself for months,” Sunny said. “I’m not at home during the day to keep an eye on her, so she can’t stay with me. I could take her back to the Haven and ask Dr. Russo to find a place for her—”
“Nonsense,” Mrs. B. interrupted. She leaned forward. “Ever, would you like to stay here with Fitzwilliam and me? I have a pretty guest room where you could sleep and lots of books and games. Do you know how to play gin rummy? Or five-card draw?”
Wait. Mrs. B. was offering to teach Ever how to play poker?
Ever stopped rocking and shook her head. “Is that a video game?”
“No, dear. It’s a card game. If you stay, we’ll keep each other company, and we’ll have lots of fun. And I promise to take good care of you.”
Ever turned to Sunny. “Will I still see you sometimes?”
“You’ll see me all the time, I promise,” Sunny said. My heart sank. First, problems with the Nampa Boys and now this. Another commitment binding Sunny to Boise. “I visit Mrs. B. at least twice a week,” Sunny added. “I work for a place called the Haven, and we bring her food and water and anything else she needs.”
“More cookies?” Ever asked hopefully.
Sunny laughed. “I’ll bring cookies whenever I can.”
Fitzwilliam stretched and jumped off the coffee table. He sauntered toward Ever, his tail swishing back and forth like a plume. He leapt onto her lap and head-butted her arm, like he was trying to win her over, to tip the scales in Mrs. B.’s favor.
Ever stroked his fur. “He’s soft like a bunny.” She glanced at Mrs. B. “Okay. I’ll stay.”
Mrs. B. clasped her hands together. “Excellent.”
Sunny and I helped Ever carry her things to her new room. Like Mrs. B. said, it was a pretty room, with rosebud wallpaper and an antique brass bed. We left the two chatting like old friends while Mrs. B. warmed bathwater for the girl.
“Looks like she’ll be in good hands,” I said, as Sunny and I walked toward the van.
“The best,” Sunny concurred.
“I want to get back to Northumberland Heights before sunset,” I said.
“Me, too,” Sunny agreed.
We fastened our seat belts, but instead of starting the van, Sunny turned to me. “You’ll spend the night in Jake’s room again, won’t you? You’ll stay with me?” The vulnerability in her voice cut me to the quick.
“Of course, I will.”
No way I’d sleep at my family home while Sunny stayed at hers. Nowadays, safety in numbers was the rule. And I wanted to stick close to her. Jake, our parents, our neighbors, our friends, they lived again in our shared memories. Sunny was unselfish and kind, endangered qualities in the post-pandemic world. Infuriatingly reckless, too, liable to rush headlong into any situation where she thought she might be of help. The need to protect her, to bask in her inherent warmth and goodness, clutched at me. I’d never abandon her to the crazies who roamed the new world.
Bedlam Page 5
