Storm Lines

by Jessica L. Webb

  Mace shook her head. “No one listens. No one hears what’s underneath. My mind is huge, you know.”

  “Yes,” Devon said.

  “I know how humans operate. Everyone but me. I know they won’t risk four hundred people for one. One kid. One stupid kid.”

  A gust of wind shook the house and lightning lit the room in a quick flash, thunder rising as the light disappeared.

  “One. Stupid. Kid,” Mace repeated.

  Devon saw Aimee first. She had silently opened the door to the kitchen and stood very still. Maybe Mace wouldn’t notice, Devon thought, but it was a wild, useless hope as Mace and Marley both turned their heads.

  “Aimee West,” Mace said.

  “Not stupid,” Aimee said, her voice raspy, head held high.

  Aimee, no.

  “We were friends for a while, weren’t we?” Mace said. “I was the only one who listened to you, talked to you about school, told you how smart you were.”

  Aimee hadn’t moved, her expression scared and determined.

  “Aimee,” Marley said quietly. “Come here.”

  Aimee glanced at Marley, then back to Mace. She shuffled sideways, keeping her eyes on Mace.

  This brought Aimee closer to Mace, but now she stood between Devon and Marley. Devon put her hand around Aimee’s shoulder, providing comfort and preparing to grab the girl and run. A quick glance at Marley told her that was also what she had in mind.

  “Do you remember the time you stubbed your toe on the dresser?” Mace said. “We thought it was broken. So we looked up all the bones in the feet. You loved the word ‘phalanges’.”

  Aimee’s small frame shook, but she stayed silent.

  “And your arm,” Mace said softly. Devon found the tone threatening, not soothing. “How many times did your arm hurt? And you were so brave.” Mace stroked the inside of her own arm. “So brave,” Mace repeated. “Especially when we linked your arm,” Mace drew a line all the way up her arm, “to your throat.” Mace’s finger ended in a line across her neck.

  Aimee stared as her body shook. The lights flickered, rolling thunder the only sound in the room.

  Mace smiled. “See? You’re a smart kid after all.”

  “You hurt me,” Aimee said.

  “No, that’s not how we remember it.”

  Aimee leaned into Devon. Devon held her close to her side as Aimee found her voice. “You hurt me. Needles in my arm. Scratches over and over. It itched, and you told my dad it was allergies. He told the school. But I’m not allergic.”

  Mace looked furious and shocked. But Aimee wasn’t done.

  “You took my blood and my skin. You told me the names of the tests. But you said they were secret tests, I couldn’t tell. Special medical tests. Chicken pox, varicella zoster virus, you taught me that.” The medical words and Aimee’s hurt rolled off her tongue. “I listened. I’m smart. My dad made drugs. You were supposed to make the body want the drugs. Always and forever.” Aimee swallowed. “I know what you did. No more bad secrets.”

  Aimee clung to Devon’s side, and Devon kept a tight hold on the girl’s shoulders, even as her heart broke and hurt. Marley hadn’t moved, nor had her expression changed. Devon wondered if she’d even heard what Aimee had said. But Marley was staring at Mace, her body on alert. She was waiting for the fallout.

  “Let’s end this, Mace,” Marley said, the reasonable tone she’d been using edged with tension. “Put your phone down on the table, then turn around with your hands on your head.”

  Mace was pale, her eyes wide. She seemed incapable of movement, of processing anything, as the night got away from her entirely. She’d come to ensure Aimee’s silence, but she’d been served Aimee’s bravery.

  Marley glanced at Devon and made the smallest movement with her head. Get away. Devon began edging Aimee away, moving the scared kid away from her tormentor, away from the unpredictable scene unfolding in front of them.

  “She’s lying,” Mace breathed out, voice shaky.

  “We don’t have your side of the story,” Marley said. “I think it’s time to tell it. Put your phone down. Let us hear what’s in your head.”

  Devon heard the wrongness of the words even before Mace whipped her head around to look at Marley. Marley couldn’t have known it was a trigger, some unhappy history with psychiatry.

  “You don’t get the privilege of being inside my head, Constable Marlowe. I’m going to walk out of here and disappear.” She held her phone up between them. Her last bargaining chip. “Tell the four officers on the street to stand down. Tell the units at the top of the block to back off. Two minutes and I—”

  The front door banged open at the same time as the basement door crashed. Police shouted instructions over the rain and wind as uniforms swarmed into Devon’s living room. Devon scooped Aimee up and backed against a wall. She watched, horrified, as Marley and at least six armed police officers yelled at Mace to put down her phone.

  Mace was frozen, eyes wide, incomprehension and horror etched in her face. She’d miscalculated, badly.

  “Look,” Marley said, holding her phone out to the side with one hand. Mace tracked the movement. Then Marley swung her other arm in a rapid, violent arc, connecting with Mace’s forearm. She yelled sharply in pain as her phone flew across the room.

  Everything surged as the officers reacted and Mace went down. An officer hustled her phone outside like it was the bomb itself. Devon clung to Aimee who was sobbing now, screaming, her fear unleashed. She could do nothing but hold the girl and watch the end of this horrible scene unfold in her living room.

  Then Marley was there, sliding her hand up Devon’s arm, shaking her lightly.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Yes,” Devon said. “We’re okay. Scared. We’re both scared but okay.”

  Marley put her arms around them both in a tight embrace and squeezed. She’d ended this, Devon thought. They had ended this.

  Devon realized she was saying the words out loud, whispering them to Aimee as Marley rocked them. She opened her eyes as the energy in the room changed. Mace, handcuffed and crying, was being led out of the house.

  “Aimee,” Devon said, ducking her chin down to try and get Aimee to listen, the girl’s face still buried in Devon’s neck. “They’ve arrested Mace, she’s in handcuffs, the police are taking her away. You don’t have to look, but this is happening. The scary stuff is over.”

  Devon could feel Aimee’s tears collecting in her shirt. She held the girl and watched as Mace was taken out of her house.

  “She’s gone, Aimee,” Marley said. “I know it doesn’t feel like it right now. But you’re safe.”

  Marley and Devon looked at each other, silently exchanging their worry as Aimee continued to cry brokenly, the same sound, over and over.

  “What’s that?”

  Devon and Marley both clung tighter to the girl as her words became clear.

  “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

  Tears surfaced in Devon’s eyes. “Mace made this happen, sweetheart. Not you.”

  “It’s not your fault,” Marley said. “None of this was your fault.”

  Devon closed her eyes as Marley squeezed them tighter. A moment later, Carla was there, finding space to wrap her arms around them all. They stayed like that for a long time, trembling and crying and hugging. Devon knew she didn’t have enough words to make this better. She could only be here in the best way she knew how for Aimee and Carla and Marley. For now, that was enough.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Two in the morning, and Marley found it hard not to mark the passage of time. It had been seven hours since she’d walked into Devon’s house to confront Mace. Six since they’d established Mace had lied about a planted incendiary device. Four since Devon and Aimee had given initial statements. Zero hours since Marley had stopped worrying she’d done something wrong. And only ten minutes since Aimee had finally fallen into an exhausted sleep and Devon had carried her to her bedroom, a weary Carla not far
behind.

  Marley sat with her head in her hands at Devon’s kitchen table. The still brightness of the room was odd after the confrontation and chaos of the evening. The storm had reached its peak about an hour ago, shutting down power in neighbourhoods across the city. Devon’s power had flickered on and off as thunder and wind shook the house. Occasionally the sky would light up, flashes of lightning or falling branches taking out a power line. The four of them had watched the storm together in subdued silence, eating bowls of ice cream after midnight. They had already survived their storm. What was happening outside was nothing more than a beautiful and distant display.

  Marley looked up as Devon walked back into the kitchen. She was pale, eyes still red from crying earlier. Her shoulders sagged.

  “Will you come to bed with me?” Devon’s words were so quiet, a hushed request in the brittle morning hours.

  “Yes.”

  They said nothing more as they got ready for bed, sharing space and intimacy in a way they hadn’t yet had time for in their relationship. But even before Marley began taking off her uniform and putting on the pyjamas Devon offered, the night had already stripped them bare. The sheets were cool against Marley’s skin as she got into bed beside Devon, the pillow soft on her cheek. She could just make out Devon’s features in the dim glow from the bathroom nightlight. Devon’s face was leached of colour, her expression tired and sad and pained as she lay on her side and looked at Marley.

  “You’re hurting,” Marley said. She brought her hand between them and placed it on Devon’s chest. She felt Devon’s breath shudder, and Marley got the sense something very tightly bound inside Devon was coming loose.

  “Can I tell you?” she said.

  Marley heard the layers of questions. Can I trust you with my burden? Will you hold my worries with me? Will you sit with me while it hurts?

  “Yes.”

  Marley listened as Devon spoke her pain and worry in broken, whispered words of fear and helplessness and the weight of every decision she’d made to protect Aimee. She didn’t interrupt when Devon shifted unconsciously to talking about how she’d failed at work by allowing herself to get lost in the burdens of others. Marley heard Devon accept how close they’d come to disaster tonight, how they had danced at the edge of heartbreak and loss. And Marley kept her hand pressed close to Devon’s heart as Devon walked herself through to an uneasy acceptance that she had done everything she could, and everything had been enough. To feeling like she could be enough.

  Devon’s voice faded away, and there was only breath and exhaustion left between them.

  “I love everything about you,” Marley said. “And I am so lucky to have you in my life.”

  Only then were there tears, and Devon cried like Marley guessed she’d needed to cry for some time now. Marley pulled her in closer and kissed Devon’s forehead and stroked her back and tried to infuse every touch with love and understanding. Nothing in her life had ever felt more important than that moment, and as Devon caught her breath and whispered I love you into Marley’s neck, she knew Devon felt it, too.

  * * *

  Sunlight woke Devon only a few hours after she’d fallen asleep, still wrapped in Marley’s arms. Her eyes were gritty from tears and tiredness, but her chest felt light and her thoughts calm. Everyone was safe, and Marley loved her. Devon studied Marley’s face, inches from her own. Her breath was soft and even, her body still as she slept heavily. Devon wanted to wake her up with a kiss, but she held back and disengaged herself from Marley’s arm. Marley didn’t stir as Devon quietly left the room.

  After a stop in the bathroom, Devon followed the sounds of murmuring into the kitchen. In so many ways, it felt like a regular morning, Carla making coffee and Aimee spinning on a barstool. She knew in so many ways it wasn’t.

  “Good morning, everyone.”

  “Morning,” Carla said, scooping grounds into the coffeemaker. “Looks like none of us are good at sleeping in.”

  “Marley’s doing a pretty good job of it,” Devon said, stretching. She wandered over to Aimee and gave the stool an extra spin. Aimee’s answering laugh, an actual laugh, was magic. Devon looked over Aimee’s head to Carla and saw the light in her eyes. A good start to a long road ahead, for both of them.

  “I just asked Aimee what her heart felt up for today.”

  “It’s a good question after a rough night,” Devon said. They had to acknowledge the night before. Silence bred secrecy and shame, and Aimee already carried enough of both.

  Aimee stopped the stool from spinning, looking thoughtful.

  “Donuts,” she finally said. “Big pink donuts.”

  Aimee’s voice was a delight, even with the smallest rasp of disuse. Devon kissed the top of Aimee’s head, not hiding the tears in her eyes.

  “That will be top of the list.”

  The three of them talked as Carla and Aimee made breakfast. Aimee wanted to see the beach after the storm, and Devon offered the car since she and Marley weren’t going anywhere anytime soon. Aimee skipped down the hall to go and change for a beach walk, leaving Carla and Devon alone.

  “She seem okay to you?” Carla said, rinsing out Aimee’s cereal bowl.

  “Today feels like a new start for Aimee. I think it’s going to be a long road, but she’s got you, she’s going to have therapy, and she’s going to be okay.”

  “Yeah,” Carla breathed out, wiping down the counters that didn’t need to be wiped. “We’re going to be okay.”

  “We are.” Devon smiled, feeling the words in her bones.

  Carla gripped Devon’s arm and went to get herself ready. Ten minutes later, with only one whispered argument between Carla and Aimee about whether or not they could turn Devon’s raincoat into a kite, they were off. Devon listened to the garage door close, then the quiet Saturday morning calm descended on the house. She poured and doctored two cups of coffee, then went back to her room.

  Marley was awake, light hair disheveled, blinking sleepily into the light.

  “How did the sun come up?” she said.

  Devon laughed. “It does that pretty consistently,” Devon said, holding out a cup of coffee. Marley sat up against the headboard and moaned out a thank you as she took a sip.

  “Did I hear Carla and the munchkin leaving?” she said as Devon climbed back into bed beside her.

  “They decided on donuts and a beach walk.”

  “How did they seem? After last night.”

  “Good. Solid. And if today’s a high and tomorrow’s a low, that’s okay.”

  Marley sipped her coffee. “For you, too?”

  Devon took a moment with the question. So much goodness and connection and relief had come out of the awfulness of last night. It had been terrible. It had been necessary. And Marley had been there for every thought and every tear. She’d sat with her and made her feel safe.

  Devon leaned over and kissed Marley on the corner of her mouth.

  “Yes, for me, too.”

  Marley put her coffee down and turned on her side. “How do you feel about kissing me with coffee breath and morning breath?”

  Devon laughed and also put down her coffee, then mirrored Marley’s position. Instead of answering Marley’s question, she leaned in and kissed her again, this time full on the lips but still very gently. Not tentative, just unhurried. The lightness of their touch was a beginning, the commitment to taking time to be together. Devon drew this promise on Marley’s skin, tucking Marley’s hair behind her ear, feeling the soft skin of her neck down to her collarbone and across her shoulder.

  She ran her light touch over Marley’s T-shirt as they kept kissing, finding Marley’s bicep, over the crook of her elbow and the tendons of her inner arm, traveling over knuckles, between fingers. Devon skipped lightly over the fabric of Marley’s boxer shorts and felt Marley suck in a breath as she touched the bare skin of Marley’s leg. She hiked Marley’s knee up over her hip, and Marley moaned into her mouth.

  Devon pressed herself closer into the s
pace she’d created as Marley’s kiss became more urgent, and she pushed her hands under Devon’s shirt and across her back. Devon’s skin was inflamed, sensitive to every stroke of Marley’s hand, the taste of her lips and her tongue. Pressure built in her thighs, in her chest, a need that rose up in an all-consuming clamour of her body. Before she succumbed, Devon pulled back to look into Marley’s eyes. The want was there, the reflection of need and desire.

  Then Marley rose just enough to capture Devon’s mouth again, her kiss so intense Devon was lost. Then Marley bit her bottom lip. Devon grunted at the pain even as her hips thrust in response to Marley’s fight for dominance. She felt Marley grin against her lips, and Devon rolled them both over until she had Marley caged beneath her.

  “Take your shirt off,” Marley said.

  Devon considered ignoring her request, making her wait. But she sat up and yanked her T-shirt off, discarding it on the floor. Devon felt her body respond to the hunger in Marley’s eyes. Marley lifted herself enough to remove her own shirt then they were kissing again, hands and fingers exploring and pressing and scratching against skin, trailing over ribs and breasts, with a light nail scratch across a nipple that had Devon straining for control.

  Devon lowered her body over Marley, thrusting her hips against Marley and feeling her lift her hips in return. Every thrust brought Devon closer to the edge, with Marley’s hold on her mouth and her fingers digging in to her back.

  Marley pulled back suddenly, breaking their kiss, breaking their rhythm.

  “Shorts off,” she gasped.

  “No,” Devon muttered, tugging at Marley’s earlobe with her teeth. She didn’t want to stop the kissing, feeling the heat at her centre as they pressed against each other.

  Marley tilted Devon’s head back, giving her complete access to Devon’s neck. Marley licked from Devon’s collarbone up to her jaw where she nipped, scraping her teeth against skin. Then, as Devon was distracted by the feel of Marley at her throat, Marley thrust her hips up in a powerful motion and flipped them over, reversing their position.

  “Shorts off,” she said again and yanked at Devon’s boxers.