by Gun Brooke
“My aunt, Clara, lived here with her husband until he died. When I was orphaned, she took me in, out of obligation rather than a desire to bring up a small child.” Eyes and voice equally hollow, Romi keeps her eyes locked with mine. “I won’t bore you with tons of details, but it wasn’t an optimal upbringing, and I never felt loved or wanted.”
The immediate anger that soars within me toward this aunt makes me grip the gaudy mug harder and regard it with even stronger dismay. This must’ve belonged to that Clara person. “Why keep this from me?” I can’t help but think I’m missing something even more important.
“I couldn’t. I wanted to, but…and then time passed, and it became impossible.” Pushing her shoulders back, Romi straightens. It looks more like she’s gathering courage than being defensive.
“Why could it possibly matter that you once lived here?” Frowning, I rap my nails against the offensive mug.
“Please, Gail.” Romi rubs her left temple and then returns her hand back under the table. “I suppose I should just show you.” She stands up so fast, the chair is in danger of tipping over.
“Show me? What? Where?” I get up as well. My nerves are fraying as we speak, but it’s nothing like the panic I see growing on Romi’s face. What could she possibly have done that makes her this afraid of my reaction? Or…me, personally? No. That doesn’t make sense. This is the woman I loved with my entire being last night. “Wait,” I say, feeling my own version of panic stir. “Before you show me anything, I want to say something.”
Stopping as she’s about to turn toward the hallway, Romi looks at me cautiously. “Okay?”
This is not how I planned it, or dared to dream it, but it’s important. I can feel it. “Listen. Last night…it was amazing, but that’s not the reason I want to tell you this,” I say, knowing I’m stalling. My injured arm twitches, and I remember how it used to do that all the time after the last surgery, especially when I was stressed. “You know I care deeply for you, Romi. It can’t be a secret.” I step closer but stop when she flinches. “I love you. I’ve fallen in love with you and—”
Gasping, Romi snaps her head back as if I’ve slapped her. “Oh, God.”
My heart hemorrhages. I swear I can feel it seep blood into my chest, and I can’t do much else than stare at the stricken look on Romi’s face. How can my telling her I love her possibly cause such a reaction? “Romi.” Raspy, my voice hurts my throat.
“Don’t, Gail. Just don’t. Let me show you.” Hollow doesn’t do Romi’s voice justice anymore. She sounds…as if she’s already gone.
She leads the way down the basement stairs, and now I’m confused as well as hurt. I hold my arm against me as it throbs more than usual. No doubt my blood pressure has skyrocketed. Romi stops in the middle of the room that needs more cleaning out. She studies her feet for a moment, but then raises her head and inhales deeply.
“I was here when you moved in,” she says quietly in that horrible tone of voice.
“What do you mean, here?” I have no idea.
“Here.” Romi gestures around me. “I thought the house stood empty after Aunt Clara died. I didn’t know someone was about to move in. That’s no excuse, of course.” Hiding her hands behind her back, Romi grows tenser. The tendons on her neck are like tight ropes, and she’s even paler than usual.
“Are you saying you lived in my house until I moved in?” I’m trying to figure out why she’s panicking about that. Sure, not entirely all right, but… My thoughts stop as she shakes her head.
“No. Here. Let me show you.” Romi walks over to a shelf and maneuvers something on top of it. Bracing herself against the shelf next to it, she pulls the entire thing out and reveals a hole in the wall behind it. She disappears into it, and then a light comes on. That’s when I realize the shelf hides a doorway that leads to some stairs.
“What is that?” Hesitant, I step closer.
“A bomb shelter that Aunt Clara’s husband built when they were young. She kept it up until she passed away.” Romi stands on the floor of the shelter, her arms now wrapped around herself as if she’s trying to hold herself together.
I walk slowly down the stairs, four of them, which means the man who built it dug it halfway into the ground. The walls look deep, and an elaborate, if dated, ventilation system sits in the upper left corner. A bed, a table for two, a kitchenette, and a bathroom—all kept very neat and tidy. I round on Romi. “So you knew about this room, and you stayed here. I can’t say I’m thrilled that you weren’t forthcoming, but—”
“You don’t understand!” Romi raises her voice, and I don’t think I’ve ever heard her do that. “I stayed down here after you moved in too.”
“What?” I can’t tell if I’m whispering or if I’m yelling. The noise in my head drowns everything out.
“I had nowhere else to go. No money. Here I found shelter, literally.” Shifting where she stands, Romi speaks with a catch in her voice. “And food. I—I stole food.”
Another thing that doesn’t make sense. “Before I moved in? How was that even possible?” I look around the basement, and my eyes fall on the now-empty shelves. Damn. “The jars with fruits and vegetables?”
“Mainly the applesauce and some pickles.” Shrugging, Romi looks away.
A hollow voice echoes in my mind. She was that hungry all the time. “So, how long did you stay here? What about that house you talked about?” I drag my hand through my hair, and the headband falls to the floor. At first it looks like Romi’s going to pick it up for me, but perhaps something in my face deters her, because she remains where she is.
“I lied in the beginning. I left your house as soon as I earned enough to buy some, um, supplies. I felt so bad about lying to you. I hated it.” She sobs once, but her tears stay among her lashes, as if from sheer willpower.
“You’ve had weeks to tell me this.” I hiss the words, but I’m not angry. Frustrated, but not truly angry.
“No, not really,” Romi says quietly. “You still don’t get it.”
“Perhaps because you’re not making any sense.” I fling my good hand in the air. “You live in your childhood home because you think it’s empty. Fine. I have very little problem with that.”
“Now, yes. You know me now and—”
“Do I?” I snap. “Do I really? Let’s say for argument’s sake that you were indeed broke and starving. You start living here, and then you realize that someone else does own this house and is moving in. I can understand that you didn’t know me to start with, but when you began to, why not just tell me the truth? Am I that horrible that you think I wouldn’t understand?”
“You’re not horrible.” Romi’s tears finally fall. “You’re wonderful. This is all on me. That’s what I’m trying to say. I had nowhere to go, no money, and I felt so damn guilty for trespassing and stealing.”
“I don’t care about the damn jars.” I shake my head and lean against the table.
“It’s the principle. I stole. I invaded your privacy—more than you know.” Wiping furiously at her wet cheeks, Romi sobs. I take a step toward her, but she holds her hand up. “No. Let me get this out in the open.”
“What do you mean, you invaded my privacy more than I know?” I want to hold her against me, but I’m so taken aback by all this, I can’t process it at the moment.
“See that vent?” Pointing toward the system I noticed earlier, Romi sighed. “It’s somehow connected to the living room. I used to hide down here sometimes when I was a kid. Whenever someone in the living room, and especially in the corner with the large armchair, is talking, you can hear everything down here.”
My mind races as I think back. I’ve been on the phone sitting in that chair. Even shed tears. And Romi listened in on all that? “You should have moved out instantly, supplies or not.” I’m being unfair, somewhere inside I know that, but my privacy has indeed been violated, and I’m feeling so raw because the culprit’s Romi, the woman I…love. The thought barely has time to make it through my b
rain before my resentment begins to cool off. I love this girl. She was lost, lonely, and penniless. For all she knew, the police were after her, and she had no one to turn to.
“I did. As fast as I could. I have never felt as guilty about anything as I do for lying to you. You deserve nothing but honesty and—”
“Romi. Wait. Let’s just take a step back and look at this in a calmer way.” I hold out my hand again. “Surely we can figure this out if we talk about it?”
Romi recoils, her nerves so raw, and once again, it dawns on me that she and I have such different backgrounds. We’re approaching things from opposite corners, and I can’t expect her to regard what’s happening through my eyes. I slump back against the table again. Perhaps we can never truly bridge the gap between us? I thought so, absolutely, but maybe I’m the naïve one? I clasp my forehead where an all-too-familiar headache’s starting to develop.
“I should go,” Romi murmurs, tears coating every word.
“No, please, don’t do that. We have to talk this out. One way or the other, we can get past it.” I’m clearly not above begging. “I love you. It’s still the truth.”
Romi moves so fast, I have no time to react. She runs up the four steps, and then I hear her feet hammer against the stair leading up to the hallway. I hurry after her. “Romi! Wait!”
I hear the front door open, and I know she’s running. When I reach the hallway, the house is filled with a piercing alarm. God damn it. She set off the alarm, perhaps deliberately, but I don’t think so. She was running away from me and probably just forgot about it. I punch in the code and know I have to call the security company right away, or I’ll have them, or the police, on my doorstep very soon.
The man on the other end asks the security questions, which I answer in the way that’s agreed upon to let him know that I’m all right. I chuckle miserably after I hang up. All right? Well, I suppose I can’t demand that a security company provide staff that heals a crumbling heart.
Chapter Twenty-five
Gail
I stand in the room that once belonged to a young girl. Everything is like a time capsule of sorts, and I know I must peel the layers off one by one. I tear the sheet from the bed, revealing the bedding, which looks as pristine as the day the bed was made. The desk, the bookshelf, the closet, all kept dust-free under the sheets, speak of someone who tried to make this room her own world. The rest of the house is a strange mix of generic and gaudy, but in here, a girl lived her life, created and dreamed a universe of her own.
Stepping up to the bookshelf, I run my index finger along the spines. Every now and then I find gaps. I pull out a random book, open the cover, and see that someone has written in it with blue ink.
This book belongs to Romi Shepherd. 2009.
My knees give out, and I sit on the desk. In one book after another, either the inscription says it belongs to Romi or the initials R.S. appear. My heart aches as I picture Romi where she stood in my basement earlier, so rigid, and confessed what she saw as her greatest sin. Pale, with her big, hazel eyes radiating her heartbreak, she said good-bye, even if I didn’t realize it until she ran.
My cell phone rings, making me jump. I glance at the screen, praying it’s Romi. It’s Vivian.
“Darling,” Vivian says without preamble. “I heard from Manon just now. Is Romi back with you?”
“No,” I answer hollowly. “I haven’t seen her since this morning. I…I have no idea where she is. I mean, I thought she was back at the house she’s staying at, but there’s no light on, and now it’s dark…”
“Damn.” Vivian sighs. “As useless as I am when it comes to physically looking for someone, I agree with Manon. This requires all hands on deck.”
“Yes, but where do we begin?” My voice shakes, but I can’t even care about that. “I think she might be heading back to New York.”
“Hmm. I wonder.” Vivian is quiet for a moment. “Her most obvious character trait’s her protective side, don’t you agree?”
“I’ll say.” I put the cell on speaker mode and place it on the desk next to me. “To a fault.” I cover my eyes. “Vivian. She…I don’t know what to do. I just want her to come home.”
“I know. Wait. I hear Mike. We’re going to drive out to your place. I’m bringing the boys. I know Manon is on the phone with the rest of the gang. Let’s start at your house and work our way from there,” Vivian says. “And don’t panic. We’ll be there soon.”
Too late. I’m already panicking. “Thank you, Vivian.” I disconnect the call and try Romi’s cell again. As before, it goes to voice mail. I leave yet another message, begging her to call me back.
I make my way downstairs and look out the window. It’s dark already, and there’s no light in the direction where I can normally see it when it’s dark. Jerking on my warmest jacket, I pull the hood up and get a flashlight. I’ll start with the yard while the others are en route. Perhaps I can find some footprints, though I doubt it, as it’s been so cold and dry lately. At least it’s not raining.
Walking outside, after making sure I have my cell, I sweep the beam of the flashlight back and forth across the ground. As I pass the car, I get flashbacks from all the times Romi helped me with my seat belt and how I felt the first time she was that close to me. This, in turn, takes me back to our first kiss, on the couch in the living room. I’m about to continue on to the night we shared together, but I can’t allow myself to remember all the details of our lovemaking, or I’ll crumble. Being Romi’s first, hoping to be her last, is enough to skewer my heart.
I circle the house twice, slowly and meticulously. When I come back to the front, I see several headlights approach from East Quay. I merely stand there, shivering despite my jacket, waiting for them to join me.
Three cars pull up along my driveway and then a fourth. When I see the patrol car, I nearly fall to my knees. A strange noise escalates in my head, and I think I’m about to pass out.
“Wait! Gail, it’s not what you think.” Tierney rushes over to me, slipping a strong arm around my waist. “Detective Flynn’s just here to help.”
The buzzing in my ears begins to fade when I realize Flynn’s not here to notify me of bad news. “All right,” I whisper. “All right.”
“Vivian and Giselle will stay inside just in case Romi turns up on her own,” Mike says kindly. “The rest of us should pair up and spread out. I’ll go with you, Gail, if that’s okay?” She’s holding on to a twin leash connected to Perry and Mason. “Stephanie and Tierney will take their dog and check in the other direction.”
“Thank you.” I take Mike’s proffered arm. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“One of the kids in the choir began a phone chain to see if anyone had seen Romi in town, but so far they haven’t,” Detective Flynn says and switches on her flashlight. “Nor have any of my patrol cars spotted anyone matching Romi’s description hitchhiking along the bigger roads. They’re checking the bus company as we speak.”
Where can she be? I don’t know how much worry I can navigate before I crack. I tell myself Romi needs me to be strong, to be the protective one. All I want is to know she’s all right—no, that’s a damned lie—I want so much more, but I’ll settle for knowing she’s safe, if that’s all I can get.
After a few minutes of planning, during which I point out the direction I’ve seen Romi walk when passing my yard, we decide that Mike, the dogs, and Detective Flynn should search that area.
“I haven’t seen the little light on in her house tonight,” I say. “I’ve never been there. Romi tells me there’s no real road leading there. She’s worried I’d fall and reinjure my arm.” Being so damn protective.
“Then you just hold on tight to me,” Mike said. “I’ll let the boys off leash in a bit.”
“Wait. You said Romi lives in a house in there?” Flynn points toward where I’ve seen a light go on in the evenings. “But there’s no house there. I mean, there used to be, but—” She shakes her head.
&n
bsp; My stomach lurches, and I squeeze Mike’s arm tighter. “Let’s go.” I can feel it’s urgent and that I’ve failed Romi by not finding the path to her house or alerting Manon right away.
As we make our way along the narrow path, I fear what we’ll find.
Romi
Cold. Pain. Something pokes my left side, and I moan as I try to get away from it. A new, searing pain shoots through me, and I realize I can’t move. Trying to figure out where I am, and what the hell happened, I first think I’m in the old house. But if I were, I’d be in my warm sleeping bag, wouldn’t I? Instead, I’m so cold, I’m beyond shivering, and as any homeless person knows, that’s a bad, bad sign.
Carefully, I crane my neck to try to figure out where I am. Am I back in the cardboard box under the overpass? No, that’s in New York, and here I can see stars and a pale, new moon that barely illuminates the ground around me. Wait. Ground. I reach out with my right hand, feeling around me. I’m on my left side, and everything hurts, and I can feel twigs, grass, and dry leaves. Am I in the woods? But why?
Sharp images flicker through my brain. Gail’s stunned look as I showed her the secret room. How she stared at me when I told her that I’d trespassed in her house when she moved in. Involuntarily spied on her. Stolen food. Lied about so many things.
I refuse to blame Gail’s shocked outbursts for my running. I left because I don’t deserve Gail’s love. I never did. She has the right to be with someone who’s honest with her. I always knew she was out of my league in every sense of the word. Was that why I waited until after we made love? Yes, of course it was. Selfish as I am, I wanted one night to remember, to be with the woman I love more than life and to be close to her in every sense of the word. I should have known doing that would amplify my perpetual guilt for being dishonest. I spent the night with her knowing I would have to confess everything and then leave at one point.
