Laura's Secrets

by Shannon Greenland

  * * * *

  The technical crew had finished their work and retired for the evening. The semis were loaded and en route to the next city. The band members partied back at the hotel, while Laura sat on the floor backstage studying the mike that had gone bad.

  Running her fingers over the screened metal head, she gripped it tight and tested for looseness. She jiggled the transceiver end and discovered it durable. What had gone wrong? Mistakes rarely occurred under her direction.

  She fished a screwdriver from her toolbox, quickly disassembled the mike, and found every single wire had been cut. Someone had tampered with the mike and sabotaged Tourist's concert. Who, though? It had to be one of the technical staff. No one else had access to the equipment.

  "It's one o'clock in the morning. Why are you still here?"

  Laura squinted up at Will through dry, tired eyes. She glanced past him into the darkness of the backstage area. They were alone. “What are you doing here?"

  His mouth quirked. “I asked you first."

  She threw the screwdriver back into the toolbox. “How did you know I was still here?"

  "I got worried when you didn't come back to the hotel. I came out looking for you."

  How had he known whether or not she was in her hotel room? Had he been watching her? Aunt Jane used to track her like that, following her on afternoon walks, calling school to make sure she hadn't skipped, parking her car outside Bizzy's house while Laura played. Jane would even do bed checks at night to assure Laura hadn't run away.

  Cautiously, she regarded Will. “I'm a grown woman. I can take care of myself. There's no need for you to worry about my welfare.” The words came out harsher than she'd intended. And looking at the confused, injured expression on Will's face, she knew she'd made a mistake.

  He took a step back and defensively lifted his hands. “You've got some nerve, Laura. I was being thoughtful. I know you're a grown a woman. I don't know why you're peeved that I was worried about you. In case you haven't heard, that's what friends do for each other.” He shoved his hands in his back pockets. “But hey, you want me to back off? I will.” He turned and started off. “See ya around,” he threw over his shoulder, then disappeared into the darkness.

  * * * *

  Laura stared out the cab's window as it navigated the streets back to the hotel. On the corner stood a man, shears in hand, snipping, and arranging flowers. At two in the morning, he looked as isolated and alone as she felt.

  It was best she'd finally pushed Will away. Things were too complicated in her life. Imagine bringing somebody else into it. It was best ... best that he move on.

  Then how come it didn't feel like the best thing?

  The cab pulled up to the hotel. Laura got out, paid the driver, then trudged inside. An attendant stood behind the counter, looking crisp in her uniform, fresh, and awake. Her pertness at this ungodly hour made Laura want to grumble.

  Moments later, the elevator dinged, and Laura stepped out onto her floor. The bodyguards posted on their hall looked as awake and alert as the front desk lady. Laura acknowledged them with a slight wave and stifled a yawn.

  She unlocked her room and stepped inside. A folded piece of red, hotel stationary had been slipped under her door. Her name was scribbled across the outside. The handwriting looked faintly familiar. She turned on the lights and retrieved it.

  Four

  * * * *

  The black and white TV flickered as The Three Stooges carried out their pranks. Laura and Bizzy lay curled up on a purple lounge chair, giggling, as Larry poked Curly in the eyes, then Mo slammed both of their heads together in disgust.

  Laura had been at her best friend's house for three days. It was the first time she'd been allowed to stay overnight. Aunt Jane's work had sent her to Atlanta for training. They needed to send her away more often. The time with Bizzy had been the best three days of Laura's life.

  Bizzy had received a moped for her birthday, and both of them had ridden it like crazy over the last few days. But this morning after breakfast they'd tried to climb a steep hill on Bizzy's property, slipped on some loose rocks and dirt, and slid all the way back down. Bizzy'd been driving, and Laura sat behind her. The moped fell on both girls midway down the hill, and the hot muffler had seared their tiny calves in matching locations. Bizzy's mom almost got ill when they'd tromped into the house displaying their red, bubbly-looking, six-inch long, twin injuries.

  Now, with their legs bandaged and treated, they sucked on Popsicles, mesmerized by The Three Stooges’ antics. Outside, a car horn sounded. Their smiles faded as they turned and held each others knowing stare. The car honked again. Quietly, Laura got up and threw away her Popsicle. Bizzy followed her out to the porch, they exchanged a quick hug, then Laura jogged down the steps and climbed into Aunt Jane's car.

  Jane bobbed in her seat to big band music on the radio. Her manicured fingers strummed a beat on the steering wheel. She smiled at Laura, put her car in reverse, and drove off. Laura eyed her warily, puzzled by her unusual good mood.

  Aunt Jane chattered about her trip to Atlanta and surprised Laura by asking about her time at Bizzy's. They pulled into their driveway ten minutes later to find a van parked in their carport. A tall, light-haired man opened the driver's side door and stepped out. Jane sucked in a breath, and after a hesitant, surprised second, she scrambled to unbuckle her seatbelt and open her door.

  Laura watched as her aunt raced across the driveway, the snug skirt of her business suit hampering a full stride, and leapt into the man's arms. They kissed while he twirled her in a circle. In the nine years Laura had been alive, she'd never seen her aunt be affectionate with a man, or with anyone for that matter.

  The man lowered her to the ground and ran his fingers through her straw-straight, brown hair. Then the couple turned and stared at Laura through the windshield of the car. Aunt Jane arched her eyebrows and cocked her head, and Laura took that as her cue to climb out. Her aunt laced fingers with the man, and the two watched as Laura approached.

  "That, my darling, is my sister's daughter,” Jane announced.

  The man smiled down at Laura. “Hello, my name's Gary."

  "Hi.” Who was this man? Why had he come?

  "Gary and I met on the trip I just took.” Aunt Jane hugged his waist.

  Laura's gaze moved from one adult's face to the other, unsure of what to say or do next.

  Gary cleared his throat. “Dear, are you babysitting your niece?"

  Jane smiled sweetly at Laura. “No, Laura has lived with me since she was a small thing."

  Dumbfounded, Laura stared back. Her aunt had never given her a sweet smile in her whole life.

  Gary cleared his throat again. “I ... didn't realize you had children."

  Jane's smile faded. She turned to Gary. “I thought you'd be pleased to find out I have a child that you can be a father to. We have a future together, and I'm too old to give you children. You know I'm in my fifties."

  Gary looked down at Laura. “Sweetheart, will you give us some private time?"

  Laura nodded and walked to the house, and even though she knew she shouldn't, she crouched near an open window to see and hear what would transpire between them.

  Gary pulled away from Jane. “I'm not sure how to say this in a nice way, so I'll just say it. I don't want children of my own, and I don't want to take care of another person's child. I never have. When we met in Atlanta, the way you talked, I assumed you didn't have children. I'm sorry, but I guess I should've asked."

  Jane latched onto his forearm. “Please, Gary, don't do this. I'm a good catch. I'm impeccably groomed and well dressed. I'm attractive and certainly don't look my age. I'm outstanding compared to the other women in my church."

  Gary gave her a puzzled smile, as if he didn't know how to respond. “Of course you're attractive."

  Jane gripped his arm tighter and took a step toward him. “We don't have to keep her. I can put her in a home."

  "You're not serious, are you?
"

  "Of course I'm serious."

  Gary pulled his arm from her grip and pointed toward the house. “You can't throw her away like she's a rag doll or something."

  "There're lots of good homes she could go to,” Jane rambled in desperation, reaching for him. “Oh, Gary, we could be so happy together. I've prayed about you, and God gave me a vision. You're my future husband. The premarital sex we had is justified. We have Heaven's approval."

  "You're not the person I thought you were.” He climbed into his van, started the engine, then looked at Jane through the open window. “You need help. There's something wrong with you.” He pointed to his head. “You're mentally off."

  Laura watched as Gary zipped down their driveway, then switched her attention back to her aunt. Jane turned from his retreating vehicle at the same time, caught her niece peeking out the window, and narrowed her eyes to two tiny slits. Laura spun and raced upstairs.

  She made it to her room when she heard her aunt fling the front door open and slam it behind her. Laura tensed as she listened to Jane's feet pound up the stairs.

  Backing away, Laura stared at her open bedroom door. Heavy footsteps stomped into Aunt Jane's room, paused, came back out, turned down the hall, passed the bathroom, and then Jane rushed into her room, wielding a long object high above her head. Laura fell backward onto her bed, immediately curled into the fetal position, and wrapped her arms around her head.

  "You wretched excuse for a kid,” Jane screamed and whipped the tree switch down across Laura's head. “You've ruined my life!” She struck her side. “You're a bastard child that nobody ever wanted, and I was a fool to adopt you!” She switched her legs. “It's no wonder your father didn't claim you when you were still in your mother's belly,” Jane yelled and lashed her niece's body again, and again, and again.

  Laura groped for her pillow, looking for something to shield her body. But her aunt had already flung it aside. Squeezing her eyes shut, Laura willed her mind to drift back to Bizzy's place, to the snack cakes they'd snuck at two in the morning, the dollhouse they made out of cardboard, and the flowered sheet they used as a tent in Bizzy's bedroom.

  Aunt Jane's ire finally subsided, and she stood hovering above her niece, heaving deep breaths. Laura didn't open her eyes. After a minute or so, she heard the older woman turn and shuffle from the room.

  Laura stayed curled in a tight ball with her arms snaked around her head. A long time went by before she finally crawled out of bed and walked over to her dresser. In the mirror, she surveyed the puffy, red stripes that covered the right side of her body and head. She reached into the top drawer and pulled out a tube of antibiotic ointment. Squeezing a portion onto her finger, she began smoothing it along the raised, swollen sores.

  Afterward she dug her rabbit's foot from its hidden spot under the carpet in the corner of the closet. Gripping it tightly, she sat in her window seat and stared out at the woods bordering their backyard.

  Will shifted in his seat. He'd been in the same position for thirty minutes staring at Laura. She lay at the back of the plane, curled up on a couple of seats, sleeping. She had to be exhausted after her late night. They hadn't spoken a word to each other since their dispute after the concert. He wasn't pissed anymore, just frustrated, confused. Didn't know what to make of her.

  Heaving a sigh, he glanced out the plane's window. How long did it take to get to Philadelphia anyway?

  He stood and stretched, then walked to the bar to get a drink. After a long pull from a water bottle, he turned, leaned against the bar, and surveyed the sleeping occupants of the plane. Why did he have to be the only one awake?

  Will's gaze drifted back to Laura. The ball cap she'd placed over her face to block the light had fallen to the floor. He tiptoed over to retrieve it and realized she was shivering. Quietly, he opened the overhead bin, found a blanket, then laid it over her body. He took the seat opposite hers and watched her sleep.

  She lay facing him with her head cushioned by her backpack and her hands curled under her chin. He toyed with her ball cap a moment, then discreetly lifted it to his nose. Closing his eyes, he inhaled her shampoo and natural scent. Never in his life had he been so infatuated with a woman that he wanted to smell her cap.

  A whimper, or more like a moan, came from Laura. Will opened his eyes and looked at her. She shivered. He knitted his brows, studied her more carefully. She shivered again. No, not a shiver, it was a flinch. He leaned closer. She flinched again. Then her chest began to rise and fall with quick, rapid breaths, like a panting animal. A low, wounded sound vibrated from her throat. His stomach lurched. Her right hand slowly unfolded, and her index finger made a clumsy, crisscross pattern on her cheek.

  Will slid off his seat and knelt in front of her. He stroked his hand across her forehead and over her hair until she calmed. Then gently he ran his index finger along the line of her brows. Her lashes fluttered open. Tired, dazed eyes looked back at him. Will cupped her cheek.

  "I'm sorry,” she whispered.

  "For what?” he whispered back.

  "For last night. I got your note."

  "Went by your room around eleven. Thought you'd want to go running this morning. When you didn't answer, I left the note and found you backstage."

  "I realize that now."

  He gave her a small smile. “Thank you for apologizing."

  Emotion flowed from her eyes. Encouraged, he asked, “What were you dreaming?"

  Laura closed her eyes. “Nothing. Just an old familiar nightmare."

  Will took her face in both hands. “Tell me."

  She pushed the blanket aside and sat up. “Excuse me, I need to go to the restroom."

  Still kneeling in front of her, he grabbed her hands. “You flinched and moaned. You were so distressed. Your finger made this crisscross pattern on your face. Let me in. What happened to cause so much pain?"

  She diverted her face, closed her eyes, and swallowed. Will scooted in closer. “Hey,” he whispered and waited for her to look at him.

  Laura turned and searched his face. He hoped to God she saw trust, friendship, and kindness there. “I don't know what's going on, but have you ever considered talking with a therapist?"

  "I'm not nuts."

  "I didn't say you were. I've been to see one."

  "You have? Wh-that's none of my business. Did it help you with your problem?"

  "It did. And I'll tell you why I went. Years ago my grandmother died. I was very close to her. She and dad raised me and my sister. I had to go to counseling to deal with the loss. There's no shame in going to see someone professional. Certainly doesn't mean you're nuts."

  "What happened to your mom?"

  "Died almost thirty years ago giving birth to my sister."

  "I'm so sorry."

  Will accepted the condolence with a nod.

  Laura's eyes lowered to his chest. “What's on the end of your chain?"

  He hesitated, unsure about the change of topic, then reached inside his shirt and pulled out the necklace. Holding the pendant toward her, he told her the story. “When my sister, Veronica, and I were little, my grandmother took us mining in North Carolina. We worked all day panning muck from some river and never saw any gold. All of us were starving and decided to drive down the mountain to a restaurant we had seen that morning."

  "Well,” he chuckled. “Veronica had to pee so bad that Gramma pulled over on this curvy, mountainous road and told her to go behind a boulder. When she came back to the car, she was holding this lump of gray and white rock, and it had a gold line running through it. Gramma had it analyzed and discovered it was gold."

  Will glanced at the emblem. “For Christmas that year, she had it broken into three pieces. Hers she carried in her purse and had necklaces made for me and Veronica. It's more sentimental than anything else. Gramma told us it would remind us of our good fortune and strong family bonds."

  Laura took hold of the small lump encased in silver wiring. “It must be nice to have such wonderfu
l childhood memories.” She rolled it between her fingers. “I saw this during last night's concert and wanted to ask."

  He watched her face as she examined the necklace, then she glanced up, and their noses bumped, making them both smile. Will took the seat beside her. He reached for her hand and settled it snugly between his palms.

  "I think you're right about the counselor,” she said some time later.

  He lifted her fingers and pressed a kiss to her knuckles.

  "I was having a nightmare about a whipping I received."

  Will ran his thumb across the back of her hand. “Why did you get a whipping?"

  "My aunt's boyfriend broke up with her because he didn't want any children."

  "Is that who whipped you? Your aunt?"

  Laura nodded.

  "Why did you make crisscross patterns with your finger?"

  She looked down at their joined hands. “Probably from the ointment I smeared on my welts."

  Will clamped his teeth together. She'd been beat hard enough to leave welts? How many times had she endured such pain over the years?

  Long moments passed, and when she didn't say anything else, he lifted her hand and kissed it again. “Thank you for sharing that with me."

  Laura stared unblinking into his eyes, as if she didn't know what to make of him. Then she gave him a tender smile that nearly broke his heart and turned her attention to the scenery outside the window.

  The captain announced their descent into Philadelphia. Will squeezed her hand and released it. She slipped her fingers inside her front pocket and pulled out a tattered, blue rabbit's foot. As she continued to stare out the window, she rubbed her thumb along its surface. Will watched the movement from the corner of his eye, puzzling the significance of the charm.

  * * * *

  Tourist's band members followed their manager through the corridors of the Philadelphia venue. The “Meet and Greet", a private backstage get-together requested by the sponsors, was set for six o'clock. The concert started at eight, the first of three held in the city.