Two Feet Under: The Mortician's Daughter, Book 2

by C. C. Hunter

  There’s a couple of guys standing at an apartment door. My escort nods to them and opens the door.

  For Annie. For Annie. For Annie.

  I repeat the words like a litany as I enter the apartment.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The moment I walk in, all the guys in the room start pulling their phones out of their pockets and putting them on the coffee table. Everyone but the guy sitting on the sofa with a beer in his hands.

  He looks at me, then leans back. Somehow I know this is Ramon. I nod and try really hard not to look scared.

  “You’re right, Mike,” Ramon says and looks over at another guy. “She’s pretty.”

  I glance at the guy he’s speaking to and I recognize him as one of the members who was at the apartment building a few days ago. He’s small, dark hair, and has a tattoo right below his ear.

  “I’m telling you,” Mike says. “She’s a witch.”

  Ramon’s eyes return to me. “Are you a witch?”

  All I can think about is how they burned witches alive in Salem, Massachusetts. “No.”

  He laughs. “Good, ’cause I don’t believe in witches.” Then he twirls his beer. “How old are you?”

  “Why is that important?” I ask.

  He frowns. “So you want to be a member of our gang?”

  “No,” I say.

  “You looking to score drugs?”

  “No.”

  “So what do you want?”

  “She wants you to crawl between her legs.” The crude remark comes from behind me.

  I ignore it. “It’s about your brother.”

  He flinches as if I just brought up a sore subject, then he pulls the beer to his lips and swallows a big gulp. Leaning forward, he frowns and his beer lands on the coffee table. Hard. His eyes are tight, suspicious.

  “I don’t have a brother.”

  I swallow. “Carlos Brooks.”

  “I said I don’t have a brother!” He shoots off of the sofa and gets in my face.

  I brace myself. “He died.”

  He doesn’t flinch, but I see it. Or I saw it. For a flicker of a second, emotion flashed in his eyes.

  “Now I really don’t have a brother.” His words ring cold.

  “He has a daughter.”

  “I think you should leave.” He points to the door.

  “She’s six years old.”

  “I don’t give a shit! I said go!” He motions to the guy who escorted me here. “Get her out of here.” He turns around as if to leave the room.

  The man moves in and grabs my forearm. “She’s dying,” I blurt out.

  Ramon swings around. “And this should matter to me, why?”

  “You can save her.” I’m being pulled toward the door, but I yank free.

  “I’m not in the business of saving people.” He rakes a hand through his hair.

  The guy reaches for me again. I step back. “Please just hear me out.”

  Ramon gives a nod, but my gut says I only have seconds. My gut also says this isn’t going well. What can I say to change his mind? But damn it. If Fate wants me to do this, why am I not getting a little help?

  I hear Annie’s voice in my head. It’s okay, you know. If I die. If you can’t save me.

  It’s not okay. “She’s your niece.”

  “He didn’t give a damn about me!” His dark eyes get darker. “How do you even . . . know Carlos?”

  I offer the lie I’d brainstormed earlier. “He dated my mom.”

  “Is the kid your sister?”

  “No. But she could have been.”

  “So why do you care?”

  “Because she’s young. And she’s dying. It’s not right.”

  “That’s not my problem.” He looks at the guy standing beside me ready to force me to leave at his order. “Get her out of here.”

  “Please,” I say. But the word is wasted. I’m being dragged out the door.

  His grip on my arm is tight as he walks me out and down the stairs. When I hit the landing, I see Selina standing there. She looks relieved that I’m out of the apartment. I should feel relieved too. But I don’t.

  An innocent little girl is going to die.

  • • •

  I was right. Hayden is super pissed.

  I was lying in bed, depressed, angry at myself for not saying all of the things that are coming to me now to Ramon. Why didn’t I tell him that his brother went to see Mrs. Klasky in an effort to find him? Why didn’t I prepare better and ask Mr. Brooks more about what really happened between the two brothers? Why do I suck at this?”

  “That was stupid,” Hayden rants.

  Yeah, it was. But I know we’re referring to two different things. When I first spotted Hayden appear in the corner of my dark room, I was afraid it was Mr. Brooks. I didn’t want to see Annie’s dad, didn’t want to have to tell him how I failed, not until I have another plan in place.

  But it’s one in the morning, and I’ve spent the last three hours wracking my brain and I’m coming up empty. I’m plan-less.

  “I can’t believe you did that.” Hayden paces my room. And in one sweeping instant I feel his anger bouncing off my walls, trying to seep into my soul.

  “What was I supposed to do?” I ask him.

  “Not go!” His voice rises. “Do you know what could have happened?”

  “I’m not an idiot. Of course, I know. You think I wasn’t scared?” Okay, so maybe his anger is getting under my skin. “I didn’t have a choice, Hayden.”

  “You could’ve run!”

  My chest fills with lumps of emotions. Some of his. Some of mine. I feel all those lumps, so damn heavy, like rocks trying to pull me under. Trying to drown me. “Look, I can’t handle you being mad at me right now. If I can’t fix this, Annie’s going to die.”

  “You could have died!” He raises his voice.

  “I didn’t.”

  “You promised me.” His voice goes higher.

  “I’m sorry.”

  He fades.

  Thirty minutes later, I’m not over my Hayden hurt when Mr. Brooks shows up. And if I wasn’t depressed enough, one look at the pain in his eyes takes me all the way down. His mood crowds the room. The space feels darker, the air denser. It feels so bad, I’m afraid he’s going to tell me it’s too late. That Annie’s already gone.

  “What?” I still myself for the news.

  “They are doing the surgery tomorrow, the one to put a portal in to help what’s left of her liver to filter. It’s just a Band-Aid,” he says. “If she doesn’t get it, she’ll die, but the doctors aren’t promising she’ll make it through.” His voice shakes. “She’s asking her mom to find you. She says she needs to talk to you.”

  “Me?” I sit up. “Why?”

  “She thinks you’re an angel, remember?” He drops his chin and stands in the middle of the darkness. Grief. Bleakness. Dejection. I feel everything he feels. Then he looks at me. “So you still haven’t heard anything from Ramon? Nothing?”

  I have to tell him. But I don’t want to. I hate this. I really, really hate this.

  “I saw him,” I say. “He won’t do it.” There’s no way to sugarcoat this.

  “Why not?” He rushes toward me, not with anger, but desperation. I feel that, too. It swells inside me. I want to scream. I want to cry. I want six-year-old Annie to live.

  Tears fill the spirit’s eyes. “What did he say?”

  I crawl out of bed. Forcing the words out, I tell him everything his brother said.

  Mr. Brooks listens. “It’s not true. I cared about him. It nearly killed me losing him.” He passes a hand over his face. “But I know why he thinks that.” He pauses. “He begged me to run away with him so we wouldn’t have to be separated. But I thought this was his one chance. To get adopted. To have a better life. Being adopted was like a pot of gold every foster kid wanted. I thought he’d get that. When I aged out I tried to find him. I went to see the caseworker. She wouldn’t tell me anything.”

  Mr
. Brooks drops down in my desk chair. “Oh, God. Annie’s going to die. I failed my brother and now I’ve failed my daughter.”

  I dig deep and find a tiny seed of faith buried beneath my lumps of emotion. “I’m not giving up yet.”

  “She’s probably going to die tomorrow during surgery.” He shakes his head. “I screwed up my entire life. Your dad’s holding a viewing and a funeral for me next week. What a waste. I don’t deserve it. No one will even show up.”

  He disappears, but his pain stays with me.

  • • •

  When Hayden doesn’t show up Saturday morning, I get dressed to go to the hospital. I haven’t decided if I’m going to see Annie yet, but my gut says I’ll relent. My gut also says it’s going to be hard as hell. I’m about to leave when I remember I wanted to show Mrs. Carter the picture I took of Hayden at the camp all those years ago. I pull my photo album out of my bottom dresser drawer. When I reach for it, I see the one that has Mom’s pictures in it.

  I’m instantly hit with the need to see her face again, but I don’t have time to go through it right now. I look back at the easel, set the album on my bed to look at later, and I find and remove the picture of Hayden posing with the group of other kids.

  Dad is in the kitchen drinking coffee when I come down.

  “Hey,” he says. “There’s a car show today in Dayton. You want to go? It’ll be fun.”

  I stop. I know Dad’s trying. Trying to build a bridge to what was a great father-daughter relationship. And if I didn’t have a little girl’s life in my hands, didn’t have a pissed-off boyfriend who’s in a coma, I’d go with him, try to help build that bridge back up myself. Though in all honesty, nothing is going to be mended until Dad completely gives up drinking. But actually, I haven’t suspected him of drinking since he came home that one night stinking like cigarettes.

  “I already promised to spend the day with Kelsey.”

  “She could come with us,” he offers.

  “It wouldn’t work. She’s got some family problems and she needs it to be just us.”

  His firm-lipped expression tells me he’s going to argue. I really don’t want to argue with him now.

  “Let’s plan something for next week? Okay?” Then I add, “Please.”

  His firm expression fades. “Fine. I just miss spending time with you.”

  Me too. Me too. I want to hug him, but I remember how he automatically assumed I was selling drugs just a few days ago. “I’ll see you later.”

  “You’re not even going to eat breakfast?”

  “No.” I start out, then stop and look back at him. “I love you.” My eyes sting, and I turn back for the door.

  “Riley?”

  I turn around.

  He stands up. “Are you really spending the day with Kelsey and not . . . Jacob?”

  “I broke up with Jacob.” I offer that piece of truth to him. It’s not a lie. I am going to Kelsey’s later. But it’s not the whole truth, either.

  I grab my purse, drop the picture of Hayden in it, and leave.

  I’m still feeling the disappointment of letting Dad down when I walk into the hospital.

  “Excuse me,” I hear someone say as I head to the elevator.

  There’s a dozen or more other people in the lobby, but my gut says this person is talking to me. I immediately put out feelers to see if it’s someone alive or dead.

  I don’t feel any cold. Then footsteps start tapping toward me. I turn around. All my Dad anguish leaves and is replaced with Annie angst when my eyes land on Annie’s mom, Mrs. Nobles.

  She has tears in her eyes. “You’re Riley, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Look, I know this is extremely awkward, but my little girl thinks you’re an angel. She’s having surgery this afternoon and she’s been asking to see you. She even started crying when I told her I didn’t know how to find you. I’ve been down here praying you’d come back to the hospital.”

  Before I even say anything, she jumps to the conclusion that my answer is no.

  “I’ll pay you. Just talk to her. Tell her she’s going to be okay. She doesn’t believe me.” She opens her purse.

  “No. I don’t want your money. Of course, I’ll go see her.”

  She lets out a sob and puts her fingers over her trembling lips. “Maybe you are an angel.”

  When I walk into her hospital room, Annie smiles extra big. “Riley! I knew you’d come see me.”

  Annie’s mom walks in behind me and introduces me to Annie’s dad. Or her adoptive dad. I look around, surprised Mr. Brooks isn’t here.

  “Can Riley and I talk alone?” Annie asks.

  Her mom hesitates, looks at me as if weighing her decision, then she waves at her husband. “Sure. We’ll go grab a cup of coffee.”

  The door swishes closed, and Annie looks up at me. I feel an enormous responsibility. What if I say the wrong thing? What if I screw this up the way I screwed up with Ramon? I send up a prayer that I’ll know what the right thing is and while I’m at it, I ask for a way to help her.

  “I wish I had hair like yours,” Annie says.

  “Are you kidding?” I say. “I wish I had your hair.”

  She smiles, then her smile fades. “I’m getting an operation.”

  “Your mom told me,” I say. “I hear it’s supposed to help you.”

  “I’m a little scared.” She pulls a stuffed purple bear close and hugs it.

  “I would be, too,” I say. “But I’ll bet your mom and dad got you great doctors.”

  “What’s it like in Heaven?”

  I bite down on my lip. “I don’t think—”

  “I know you’re going to say I’m not going to die. But I just want to know what it’s like . . . just in case. So I won’t be afraid.”

  I swallow, and then before I know what I’m going to say the words just come out. “I hear it’s really nice. That people are happy. No problems. No pain.” I remember seeing the Bursteins pass over, and more words form. “It’s like birthday cake and smiles and gold ribbons and everything beautiful.”

  She grins. “That sounds nice.”

  “But I know your mom and dad would miss you. So I wouldn’t try to go there anytime soon.”

  “But if I do go, I’ll be with my real dad.” She hugs her bear.

  I’m surprised Annie knows about Mr. Brooks. Surely Annie can’t see his spirit too . . . “You have a real dad?”

  “He was going to save me. He really wanted to. But he had an accident trying to save someone else. He was a really nice guy.”

  “Did your mom tell you this?”

  She nods, and I feel silly having ever thought Annie could see . . .

  “I just wish he wasn’t so sad.”

  I almost gasp. “How do you know . . . ?”

  The door to her room sweeps open. “The doctor is here,” Annie’s mom says.

  The doctor goes right to Annie and starts talking to her.

  “I should go,” I say, feeling this should be just for family.

  Annie looks over at me. “Will you come again tomorrow? After I feel better from the operation?”

  “Sure,” I say. I’m thrilled she believes she’ll still be here.

  Annie’s mom walks me out. “Thank you.” She hugs me.

  I hesitate to ask, but I do. “If I give you my number, can you let me know how her surgery goes?”

  “You know it.” We exchange numbers.

  When I leave, I don’t know what it is, maybe I’m fooling myself, but I find a little more hope. Or maybe it’s a little more determination. I refuse to let Annie die.

  • • •

  Getting off the elevator onto the ICU floor, I realize it’s visiting hours, so I go straight in. When I get to the entrance of Hayden’s room, I hear Mrs. Carter talking. I stop, not wanting to intrude. But then I peer in and realize she’s talking to Hayden while she’s exercising his legs. Pushing his leg up to bend at the knee, then bringing it down.

  She continues
, “I think your grandmother is coming down in a couple of weeks. She’s eager to see you. She’s been so busy with the move, she hasn’t gotten down as much as she’d like.”

  “It’s not the move, Mom. She can’t stand your husband. Everyone can see he doesn’t treat you right.”

  I see Hayden standing in the back of the room. He looks up, meets my eyes, and then disappears.

  Mrs. Carter sees me, smiles, stops, and pulls the sheet over Hayden’s calves. “Hi. They say he needs to keep his muscles moving.”

  “Yeah, I’ve read that.” I move in.

  She comes around and hugs me. Tight. I hug her back, remembering the hug with Annie’s mom. Hugging people you barely know is awkward, but it’s feeling less awkward with Mrs. Carter after each one. Maybe because I feel the connection to her through Hayden. Or maybe because I know she needs the hugs so badly.

  “It’s so good to see you. I didn’t know if you’d come up, today being Saturday.” She looks up at the monitor over Hayden’s bed. “Did you know most of the time you come here, his blood pressure picks up? I can’t help but think he knows you’re here.”

  “I hope so.” The words leak out. I don’t know what else to say. I remember the picture and pull it out of my purse. “I thought you might like to see this. I took it when we were at camp.”

  She looks at the picture. “He was always smiling. A happy kid.” She pauses. “This was before his father died.” She smiles up at me. “Can I have this to make a copy?”

  “Sure.” I move closer to the bed.

  She sets the photograph on the bedside table. “His color still looks great.” She brushes his hair off his forehead.

  I look at him. His color is still good, but it hurts to see him like this. “Yeah.”

  “His doctor has asked another neurologist to come by and check him next week.”