The Latchkey Girls

by Leigh Irwin

  About midway up the floor to ceiling bookcase, I found it. The book was an oversized paperback, well-worn, like it had been studied repeatedly. I sank to the floor to page through it with Emma next to me, looking over my shoulder. There were pencil markings throughout the book. Certain passages had been crossed out and there were checkmarks and comments written in the margins on other pages. The comments seemed to be directions, like: “Start here” and “Put next”.

  I clearly recognized my dad’s neat printing. He always wrote in pencil, as if he were reserving the right to change whatever he wrote later. Every birthday card he’d ever given me was signed “Love, Dad” in pencil. One time I asked him why he never used a pen, and he’d looked at me in surprise.

  “I guess I got into the habit in school. In English class, I spent more time erasing than I spent writing. I never was much of a writer…” he replied with a sheepish grin.

  “There’s no doubt Dad marked this up,” I said. Emma took the book from me and flipped through the pages, then went back to the inside cover. It was stamped Proprietary Information. Property of Air West.

  “Let’s compare this with that long report,” I said. Back in Emma’s room, she dug the folder out from under the mattress and compared the book to Dad’s report, placing them side by side on the carpeted floor.

  “He didn’t even bother to change the title! I can’t believe how sloppy this is. All he did was copy most of this manual and change the order of some of it. How pathetic!” Emma and I leaned against the side of her bed, staring at each other.

  “I have to say it again. Who would pay for crap like this? It’s like he was being bribed or something, and the ‘reports’ were cover for the money he got,” Emma said. “I wonder what else he did for that Chinese company. And I really wonder what my dad has to do with all of this.”

  The sinking feeling in my stomach suddenly turned into nausea, and I ran to Emma’s bathroom and heaved until I thought my insides would come out. I rinsed my mouth and splashed cold water on my face before returning to Emma’s room.

  “Well, I guess we have enough to prove my dad’s in on this too, in some way. I’m sorry I got so mad when you suggested it,” Emma said. I sat down next to Emma. Tears dripped down my cheeks, and I saw Emma wiping at her eyes. We sat, shoulders touching, and leaned our heads together, but it wasn’t much consolation.

  “Okay, it’s time to tell someone about this. We need help,” Emma said, once we’d dried our tears.

  “I really don’t want to do that yet,” I said. Fear stabbed me, and I had a strong feeling we still didn’t know everything that was going on.

  “Why? You promised that if we found something, we’d go to your mom right away. Waiting around won’t change anything, and I don’t want this stuff in my room any longer than it has to be.”

  “Please, just a few more days? I can’t face it right now,” I pleaded, feeling tears filling my eyes again. Emma looked at me sternly, but then her gaze softened and she relented.

  “We still don’t know the full extent of it, and the thought really scares me,” I said. Emma frowned and blew out an exasperated breath.

  “Okay, but this is as far as I’ll go: We wait two more days, until your mom’s home from work that night, but no longer.” She crossed her arms tightly over her chest. “And if you won’t do it then, I’m doing it myself—and I’m telling my mom.”

  I reluctantly agreed. She might be right: Delaying wouldn’t solve anything. Emma stuffed the folder under her mattress again and shut the door to her room.

  Chapter 21

  That night Mom dragged herself through the door from work at 6:30. Dad followed about half an hour later. It was well after dark, and I wondered how he could still be playing golf that late. I’d spent the afternoon making dinner, knowing that we’d all be home, but mainly to keep myself busy. I was involved in the last of the dinner prep when Mom came into the kitchen, dressed in a bathrobe, fresh from her shower.

  “Wow! This is a nice surprise. What’s cooking?” she asked. She sat on a barstool and leaned her elbows on the counter, looking tired but more relaxed than I’d seen in quite a while. I grinned at her, pleased with my cooking efforts.

  “I decided to try out a new recipe I found online. It’s Italian sausage and chicken.”

  “Well, it smells fantastic!” The three of us sat at the kitchen table, and everyone was pleasant for once. My stomach was so tightly clenched that I could only force down a tiny serving.

  We all slept in late the next morning before splitting up to go our separate ways. Dad left for the driving range, Mom headed to the grocery store, and I took a long run. Afterward, I grabbed a quick shower, and Emma and I met James and Tom in the park for a picnic.

  Emma and I brought along a couple of beach towels and a soccer ball, and the guys provided sandwiches and drinks, arriving on their bikes.

  We spread the towels out on the grass, finding a spot where there was an unobstructed view up and down the coast. Pinning them down with tennis shoes kept the towels from flying away in the wind. The air was brisk, but the day was sunny, and the wind had whipped up whitecaps on the ocean as far out as I could see. The ocean had taken on a rich navy blue color, a stark contrast with the cloudless bright blue sky above.

  There must have been some kind of a sailboat race going on. As I watched, a cluster of boats moved steadily south, pushed along by the strong wind. I pulled my hair back and wound an elastic band around it to keep it out of my face. We all grabbed sandwiches and bottles of water. I scooted closer to James and unwrapped my sandwich, sighing contentedly as I took a big bite. Emma and Tom sat across from us on the other beach towel, smiling at each other like there was no one else in the world but the two of them. We ate in silence, each lost in our own thoughts.

  “How about a game of soccer, boys against girls?” Tom suggested, jumping to his feet and breaking the spell. He gathered up the remains of our lunch and tossed everything into a nearby trashcan.

  “You’re on!” Emma rose to her feet, stretched her arms above her head, and then picked up the ball. I folded the two beach towels in half lengthwise to mark impromptu goal lines.

  The park was deserted except for the four of us, and we were soon involved in fierce competition. Emma and I were easily beating the guys, and after half an hour, they begged for mercy. We rejiggered the teams, Emma and James on one, and Tom and me on the other, which made the contest a lot more even. We played and clowned around until the sun was setting.

  Emma spent the night at my house that night. She couldn’t quit talking about Tom, dissecting every detail of our picnic repeatedly. Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore and made her watch a movie with me on my laptop. I fell asleep, grateful to have a break from my worries, at least for a while.

  The next morning, I woke up first. I lay in bed watching Emma breathing softly, her lips slightly parted. I was already dreading what we had agreed to do by the end of the day. I pictured the money, that single sheet of paper and that blue folder lying in wait under Emma’s mattress and shuddered.

  The house was silent. I stretched and stared at the ceiling for a bit, then dozed again until I felt Emma climb out of the bed. She padded to the bathroom and back.

  “Get up! I’m starved,” she said, pulling the covers off me.

  “All right, all right! Just give me a minute,” I said reluctantly, even though my stomach growled with hunger. We went downstairs, made toast and drank big glasses of milk at the kitchen counter.

  The day was still hazy, but the fog looked like it would burn off before much longer. I looked forward to a lazy day on a lounge chair in the backyard, reading my latest adventure novel about a girl who backpacked her way through the mountains. Of course, disaster ensued.

  Emma and Tom were going hiking that afternoon, and James was probably already gone, surfing with a couple of buddies at Point Dume, near Malibu. He wouldn’t be back until late that night, so I’d be on my own. I knew Mom was working, at least un
til the middle of the day, and I assumed Dad was golfing again. I resolved to savor the day as much as possible, before we turned everyone’s lives upside down.

  Late that afternoon, Emma and I met outside her house for a final negotiation. I implored her to let me tell my mom and keep her family out of it for the time being.

  “Why do you want your mom to know instead of mine?” Emma asked me repeatedly as we argued back and forth. “My mom’s at least a lawyer.”

  I didn’t want to explain it to Emma. Deep down, I knew Mom would always protect me first, not just from Dad, but also from Keith if it came to that. I loved Pam, but I wasn’t sure of her loyalties, if push came to shove. Would she support Keith to the end, and would that hurt my family even more? Emma’s parents were so close, and their marriage seemed rock-solid. It was sadly ironic that my parents’ failed marriage had turned into an advantage in this crazy situation. I finally wore Emma down just as Mom arrived home.

  “Okay, then, we should get this over with right now,” Emma said grumpily. I agreed. While she went home to gather up our finds, I followed Mom into the house through the garage.

  “How was work?” I asked, smiling at her brightly. Mom regarded me suspiciously, since I was rarely so interested in her job.

  “It was the same as usual,” she replied in a questioning tone. I perched on a bar stool while she put some ice and water in a glass. After she took a long sip, she set the glass down on the counter between us and met my gaze. I squirmed. Just then the doorbell rang, and I hopped down to open the front door, heaving a sigh of relief for the momentary reprieve.

  “Hi Janet,” Emma said hesitantly, setting her backpack on the kitchen counter. Mom looked between us, a curious expression on her face.

  “Hi Emma…. Girls, is everything okay?” Emma looked at me and raised her eyebrows, which I interpreted to mean that I’d been appointed to speak for both of us.

  “Mom, we’ve got something to show you,” I said. I pulled the blue folder out of Emma’s backpack first and passed it over to Mom. She gave me a questioning look before opening it. Emma sat down on the stool next to me, the backpack in front of her. We waited. Mom’s eyes widened as she scanned the contents of the folder. Finally, she looked up.

  “Where’d you get these?” she asked. Emma and I shared another look before I continued.

  “They were in a plastic file box in that old shed down the back bank.”

  I didn’t feel it was necessary to give her the full explanation of our search of the house, especially when there was still more to disclose. Mom looked at us without expression, like she wasn’t really comprehending, but I noticed she was clenching her fists, squeezing so hard her knuckles were white.

  “Umm, there was more than that in the box,” I said, hesitating a moment before gesturing to Emma.

  She reached into the backpack again and pulled out the two bundles of cash and dropped them on the counter. All three of us stared at the money. It seemed to glow, highlighted by the sun glinting into the kitchen from the window over the sink. Mom pushed the bundles around with an index finger, like she didn’t really want to touch them.

  “Do you know how much is here?” she asked in a whisper. Emma and I shook our heads. We’d been in such a hurry to hide everything that it never occurred to us to count the money. Mom stared at the money, then the blue folder, and back at the money again, shaking her head in disbelief.

  “Sorry, Mom, but there’s still one more thing,” I said, my voice quaking. Mom’s eyes shot to the backpack as Emma pulled out the folded sheet of paper. She hesitated for a moment and then reluctantly handed it over. Mom unfolded the page with shaking hands and quickly read it.

  “I’ve got to sit down before I fall down,” she said. “Let’s go into the den.” Her face was ashen. We left everything on the kitchen counter and walked to the den. Emma and I sat on the couch, and Mom collapsed into her usual chair.

  “I knew there was something very wrong going on, but your dad would never tell me,” she mused, her hands clenched in her lap. We sat silently. I glanced around the den, my eye catching the book Dad had copied. It stuck out a fraction more than the others, like it was crying out to be noticed.

  “This is serious,” Mom said. “It’s far worse than I ever imagined. We have to keep it between us for now. Do you think you can do that?” Mom was addressing both of us, but I noted that she looked especially long at Emma. We both nodded.

  “Okay, here’s what we do for now. I’ll keep everything here, somewhere safe. If anyone asks, I’ll say I found it down the hill, not you. You two had nothing to do with it…” She looked at us sternly. “Do you understand what I’m saying?”

  We nodded again, and a sense of relief flooded through me. I was still terrified, but at least we knew we had an ally. Mom would figure out how to handle it.

  Chapter 22

  I was exhausted. I’d lain awake most of the night rehashing our conversation with Mom, trying to imagine what would happen next. Emma had been right about one thing: This was way too big for us to handle on our own. I only hoped Mom could find a solution.

  I slid the screen door open, crossed the patio and sank onto a lounge chair with a Diet Coke and a magazine. Heaving a sigh, I paged through it and started reading, but the warmth of the sun lulled me to sleep before I’d even finished the first article.

  Sometime later, I was startled into consciousness and sat up, heart pounding. I scanned the backyard, but nothing seemed out of place. The late afternoon sun touched the world around me, bathing everything in soft light, and a warm breeze gently stirred the towering pine tree that separated Emma’s property from ours. I shook off my fear, feeling foolish. I must have been dreaming. I settled back on the lounge chair and picked up my magazine.

  Then I heard Mom’s voice, high-pitched and angry. The magazine tumbled to the patio as I bolted upright.

  “You’ve really done it now! This is the final straw!” she screamed. Her voice sounded very close, and I belatedly realized it must be coming from inside their bedroom. My lounge chair and an identical one sat directly under their overhanging balcony, sheltered from the sun’s glare. Mom must have been standing practically over my head, and the open sliding door to the balcony broadcast their voices clearly. I scrambled off the chair and ran to the side of the house, just as Dad strode through the sliding door onto the balcony. I edged around the corner where I had a clear view and held my breath. What should I do? Stay or run?

  Mom followed Dad through the sliding door a few seconds later. For several minutes, they both leaned against the wooden railing, ignoring each other, their eyes fixed on the canyon and ocean beyond. A lone falcon flew lazily overhead, riding the air currents and scanning the ground for prey. I sat cross-legged on the grass, half-hidden by a tall bush, and waited.

  “You’re still lying to me. We both know it.” Mom accused, turning to Dad. I had a clear view of her face. Her eyes flashed in anger. Dad leaned against the railing, ignoring her as if she weren’t there. He stared at the horizon, his mouth compressed into a tight, grim line.

  “I knew there was more to it than just that rinky-dink consulting job. I found the cash you hid. Not only that, but when I paid the Visa bill yesterday, I saw another big deposit had magically appeared in our checking account, dated just two days ago. And you had the nerve to tell me it was all over!” She threw him a disgusted look. Dad’s shoulders stiffened and he drew himself up to his full height.

  “Tell me where you put that money, Janet. Right now. Go get it and bring it to me immediately,” Dad said in a low, menacing voice. Mom took a quick step away from him, but she ignored his demand.

  “You’re so deep into this now that it’ll be impossible to end it. And you don’t even see it! You’re completely blinded by all that money—not to mention your little Chinese bimbo!” She spun away from him and crossed her arms. After a moment’s pause, she turned back and raised her chin defiantly. “I’ve absolutely had it. I’m done—with you and wit
h this marriage!” she shouted. Dad backed away unsteadily, grasping for the railing behind him.

  “I want you to pack up and get the hell out of here, before I call the FBI and tell them what you’ve been up to. Enough is enough!” Tears streamed down her cheeks. She bent forward, again leaning against the railing and sobbed hysterically.

  Dad’s back was still to me, but I saw him clench his fists.

  “Come on, Janet, just calm down. I’ll explain everything. It will all work out,” Dad pleaded.

  “Shut the fuck up! Just shut up! I’m tired of your excuses and lies. I hate you! You’ve ruined our lives!” Mom shouted, her face distorted in fury. Dad lunged across the balcony and grabbed her by the shoulders, shaking her.

  “Stop it right now! The entire neighborhood will hear you! Where is that money?” He shook her so violently that her head bobbed back and forth like it was on a string.

  Mom pleaded, “John, stop it! Stop! You’re really hurting me!”

  My legs had gone numb from sitting crossed-legged, and at first I couldn’t stand up. It seemed like Dad would never stop shaking Mom, and I was terrified he’d snap her neck. Finally, I got my legs to work and stood, poised to run to Mom’s aid.

  But Mom wasn’t finished yet. With look of hatred, she broke free of Dad’s grasp and slapped him. The sharp sound reverberated in the sudden silence.

  “Get away from me!” I watched Dad stagger backwards and crash into the railing closest to me, hands covering his face. Mom shrieked and charged him like a wild thing, pummeling him with her fists.

  “You fucking bastard! Get out of my sight!”

  I leaped from my cover. I had to break up the fight before someone really got hurt. But I hadn’t gone five steps before I froze, not believing what I was seeing.

  Dad grabbed Mom again, this time by the neck, reared back and slugged her in the face with all his strength. I saw Mom’s eyes widen in terror and surprise. Blood spurted from her nose. She staggered back against the railing and slowly sagged to the floor.