by Tracy Weber
Like Dad always said, I was my mother’s daughter. Prohibitions notwithstanding, someone needed to help Rainbow. Why shouldn’t that someone be me? I couldn’t fundamentally change the teen’s plight, but I could at least get her out of that storm. As for calling the police? They’d either ship her back home or slap her in foster care. Rainbow had risked reaching out to me, but her trust was fragile. If I blew it tonight, there would be no second chances.
Okay, Dharma. You win.
I unlocked the deadbolt and ushered her inside. Rain dripped from her jacket, forming dark blue splotches on the carpet.
“Wait here a second,” I said. “Let’s get you dried off, then we’ll talk.” I snatched a roll of paper towels from the restroom and tossed them to her. “I’m glad to see you. I was worried about you. But how did you know where to find me?”
Her teeth chattered. “You gave me your business card. I know it’s lame to show up like this, but I didn’t know where else to go. Jace took off with the tent, and I can’t stay with any of my friends near the center. My stepfather might find me again.”
“Would that be so terrible?”
She flinched. “I can’t go back to him. I won’t. I’ll kill myself first.”
My stomach lurched. “Don’t say things like that, Rainbow. Don’t even think them.” I paused. “Your boyfriend took off with your belongings?”
“The tent isn’t mine, it’s his. Jace isn’t my boyfriend anymore, either. He won’t pick up my calls, and he’s blocked me on social media.”
“What happened?”
She balled up the wet paper towels and tossed them into the garbage can. “Does it matter? He’s gone, and our camping supplies are gone with him. Now I really am homeless.” She shivered. “Tonight, of all nights.”
“Can you stay at a shelter?”
“I can’t risk it. I look too young. If they figure out I’m under eighteen, they’ll call the police.” Thunder clapped in the distance. Rainbow buried her face in her hands. “I’m so totally hosed.”
I poured a cup of hot water from the dispenser, added a bag of chamomile tea and two packets of sugar, and handed it to her. Rainbow held the cup in both hands, inhaling its sweet, floral steam. Her hands trembled.
“Honestly,” I said. “I don’t know what you should do either.”
There had to be a solution, but damned if I could come up with one at the moment. I couldn’t leave a homeless teen alone overnight at the studio, not without getting an earful from the teacher who opened at six the next morning. Perhaps Rainbow could spend the night in the covered garage. It would be cold, but at least she’d be dry. Dharma’s voice chastised me. Come on, Kate. You know the security guards will toss her out before midnight. You can do better than that.
She was right. November in Seattle wasn’t Juneau in January, but it was cold outside tonight. Wet, bone-chillingly cold. The city council might be turning a benevolent blind eye to the area’s homeless encampments, but private security forces were not. Rainbow would be forced back onto the streets long before dawn.
I couldn’t leave her on the studio’s property, and I couldn’t send her back out into the storm. Which left me with one final idea. An idea that would likely mean losing my job at Teen Path HOME
So be it.
I sighed. “Okay, you can come home with me and sleep on my couch.”
She smiled. “Thanks, Kate, I—”
I held up my second and third fingers, stopping her. “On two conditions. One: You can’t tell anyone I did this, and two: it’s only for tonight. We’ll come up with another plan in the morning. I have a friend who might help.” By “friend,” I meant my mother’s boyfriend, Dale Evans.
“Your friend’s not a cop, is he? If you call the cops, they’ll make me go home.”
“Not a cop. An attorney.” Calling Dale a mere attorney was a vast understatement, although these days Dale spent most of his time running Dale’s Goats and Dharma’s Asses, an animal rescue on Orcas Island. But prior to moving to Orcas, Dale had been a legal legend. Suffice it to say that anyone who convinced Dale to represent them usually got off, even if they were guilty. I had no idea whether or not Dale had ever represented a runaway, but he had plenty of local contacts. If he couldn’t personally help Rainbow, he could connect her with someone who could. Tomorrow night’s dinner would give me the perfect opportunity to quiz him. For once, the universe was on my side.
I glanced at Rainbow’s backpack. “Actually, there’s a third condition. Before I take you anywhere, I need to know something. Was your stepfather telling the truth? Do you have a gun?”
She tightened her grip on the pack. “Scary stuff happens out there. I need to protect myself.”
“Do you even know how to use it?”
The teen looked affronted. “Of course! If I didn’t know how to use it, I never would have taken it. My mom’s husband is a creepy ghoul, but he’s ex-Marine. Glock is his middle name. His version of stepfather-stepdaughter bonding happened at the shooting range.”
“Is the gun loaded?
“It’s not much good to me if it isn’t.”
She had a point.
“You won’t need to protect yourself in my home,” I replied. “Take the gun out of your pack and unload it.”
Rainbow shook her head. “No way I’m going to—”
“This is not up for discussion.” The sternness in my voice wasn’t faked. “I will not allow you to bring a loaded gun into my home.” I pointed at the rain cascading down the glass door. “If you don’t like it, you can sleep out there.” I paused for a count of three, then softened my tone. “You came to me, remember? You have to trust me.”
She reluctantly unzipped her pack and pulled out a black, semiautomatic handgun. She pressed a button. The clip dropped into her palm. “There, happy?”
I’d never carried, but Dad had taught me plenty about handguns. “Now the one in the chamber.”
Rainbow frowned, but she racked the slide twice. A bullet fell to the ground.
“Pick that up,” I ordered. I reached out my hand. “Give me the gun. I’ll keep it tonight.”
“How do I know you won’t shoot me with it?”
“You’ve got the ammunition.”
She hesitated, then handed me the revolver. I slid it inside my purse.
“You’re going to give it back to me, right?”
I didn’t speak, but the answer was probably not. I couldn’t let a sixteen-year-old teenager carry a stolen gun. But before I admitted that, I needed to speak with Dale. “We’ll talk about it tomorrow. For now, my only goal is to keep both of us safe.”
Rainbow’s doubts notwithstanding, my intentions were honorable.
Just like the ones paving the road straight to hell.
I coached Rainbow on the drive back to Ballard. “My husband’s a good guy, but he doesn’t like surprises, especially if he thinks I’m getting involved in something that’s none of my business. Let me do the talking and don’t tell him about the gun, okay?”
She nodded.
“You got along pretty well with my German shepherd last week, so I think you’ll be fine. But since you’re coming onto her territory, I can’t be sure. If she barks or lunges at you, stand completely still and I’ll grab her.”
“Don’t worry about Bella,” Rainbow replied. “She and I are buddies. She won’t bark at me, and even if she does, I won’t care. I already told you. I’m good with animals. I was going to be a veterinarian.”
“Was?”
Her expression remained carefully neutral, but her voice quavered. “High school dropouts don’t get into vet school, even if they ace the GED.”
“Don’t give up on your future so quickly.”
“I don’t have a future. Not anymore.” She turned away and stared out the passenger-side window, firmly closing the door on our conve
rsation. We rode the rest of the way in silence.
I parked in the driveway behind Michael’s SUV and said a quick prayer, asking for my husband to be in a good mood. Rainbow and I entered the living room to the tangy smell of homemade marinara and Michael’s off-key rendition of ABBA’s “Dancing Queen.” Cooking and singing. A good sign.
I tossed my purse and the car keys onto the sofa and called, “Hey sweetie, I’m home!”
Michael’s voice came from the kitchen. “You’re late. I decided to cook us a late-night dinner, but I expected you home half an hour ago. The pasta is mush.”
Bella slinked into the living room, ears plastered down on her head, obviously stressed about the thunder. But then she spied Rainbow and her body language transformed. Her ears lifted; her rear wiggled. She planted her paws on Rainbow’s shoulders and swept her black-spotted tongue across the teen’s cheeks.
Rainbow grinned and scratched Bella’s ribs. “Told you she likes me,” she whispered.
Michael continued belting out lyrics in an off-key contralto. I motioned for Rainbow to follow me to the kitchen.
She glanced inside the room and stifled a giggle. “Chuck would have a heart attack at this mess.”
Diced red onions, green peppers, and fragrant fresh basil covered the floor. Homemade tomato sauce dotted the walls and dripped from the light above the stove. Spaghetti noodles adhered to the wall like stranded earthworms drying on pavement. Almost two years of living together and I still couldn’t believe Michael could create such delicious food out of so much chaos. An unopened bottle of red wine sat on the table: his low-key way of asking if I still might be pregnant. He bent over the oven and pulled out a loaf of home-baked garlic bread.
I picked up the bottle and slid it back into the wine rack. “No wine for me tonight.”
“Really?” He turned toward me, face split in a huge grin. Then his gaze landed on Rainbow. He took in her worn clothes, her wet hair. The dirt trapped underneath her fingernails. The grin flattened, landing somewhere between a smile and a grimace. “I see you brought company.” His eyes clearly telegraphed the question, Who is this and what is she doing here?
I smiled and mouthed the word later.
Out loud, I said, “Michael, this is Rainbow. I invited her to stay overnight with us tonight.”
Michael’s smile remained frozen in place, but the small muscles next to his jaw quivered. He pointed to the cupboard. “Welcome, Rainbow. Grab a plate. Silverware is in the drawer underneath the cutting board. Iced tea’s in the fridge.” When Rainbow’s back was turned, he gave me a dark look and mouthed, Later indeed.
“Can you keep dinner warm for a couple more minutes?” I asked. “We need to get Rainbow out of these wet clothes and into something warm.” I moved next to him, gave him a peck on the cheek, and whispered, “Be nice. She’s had a tough day.”
I led Rainbow upstairs to Michael’s and my bedroom, where I tossed her jeans, a warm sweatshirt, and a pair of bright green Seahawks slipper socks. “Put these on in the bathroom and bring your wet clothes back out. I’ll wait here.”
She wrinkled her eyebrows. “Afraid to leave me alone?”
“Not at all.” Truthfully, I was afraid to face Michael, but I chose not to share that information.
When she reemerged, her face was clean; her fingernails, less grimy. My jeans hung low on her thin hips, but the hems still ended two inches above her ankles. The slipper socks bulged unfashionably up her calves, but at least she looked warm.
“Let’s go throw your outfit into the laundry,” I said.
That task complete, we joined Michael in the kitchen, where Rainbow downed three large helpings of overcooked pasta while Michael and I picked at our plates in awkward silence. When she stood and carried her plate to the sink, I turned to my husband. “Rainbow and I will do the dishes, Michael. Why don’t you relax with Bella in the living room?” My words were polite, but we both knew what I was actually saying. Get out of here and leave us alone to talk. Michael gave me a you’ll-pay-for-this-later look, but he acquiesced.
I filled the sink with sudsy water, washed the first plate, and handed it to Rainbow to dry. According to Gabriel, teens at the center opened up when their hands were busy creating artwork. I hoped drying dishes would have a similar effect.
“Rainbow’s not your real name, is it?” I asked.
“No. I figured it would be harder to track me down if I made up something new. I like Rainbow better than my real name, though. It sounds like my life still has hope.”
“There’s always hope.”
She rolled her eyes and put the plate in the cupboard.
“So, are you going to tell me your real name?” I asked.
She shrugged. “No reason not to. The drill sergeant’s already found me. It’s Rain. Rain Roads.”
“By drill sergeant, I assume you mean your stepfather,” I said.
“Who else?”
“What’s going on between you two, anyway?”
“He’s a sleazy slimebag, that’s what’s going on.”
I frowned. “Can you be more specific?”
“He can’t hold down a job, and he’s got a terrible temper.”
I thought of my own history of anger management issues. “Lots of people get angry.”
“Not like Dean does. He’s a mean drunk, and he drinks a lot.”
“That’s his name? Dean?”
Rainbow shuddered, as if hearing the name gave her the willies. “Yes, and he’s a bloodsucking leach. He drank Mom’s money and drained what was left of her self-confidence. I never understood why she put up with his crap. I guess she figured he was the best she could do.”
She shrugged with an indifference that seemed affected. “I’m no better. I settled with Jace, though I actually believed he might love me. I never would have left Tacoma with him otherwise.” She scoffed. “I won’t make that mistake again. How could anyone love me? I’m too broken.”
I considered placing my hand on her shoulder, but I wasn’t sure how she’d receive my touch. “You’re not broken, Rainbow. Not even close. Bruised, maybe, but not broken.”
I meant it. Rainbow’s energy didn’t have the hard edge of someone beyond help. At least part of her was still reachable.
“How long have Dean and your mom been married?” I asked.
“Two years, three months, and eleven days. Not that I’m counting.”
“That’s a long time for you to live with someone you don’t like.”
“It wasn’t always this bad. When Mom and Dean were both just drunks, she shielded me from the worst of it. But since she’s graduated to heroin, she’s hardly ever home.”
“Your mom’s a heroin addict?”
Rainbow flashed a tough smile, but she couldn’t disguise the vulnerability in her voice. “You didn’t think I grew up with the Bradys, did you?”
I ignored the comment and handed her a serving spoon. “Does your stepfather use heroin too?”
“G. I. Joe? Use drugs? No way. He’s Jim Beam and Budweiser all the way. It was the one thing Dean and I could agree on. We both hate heroin.” Rainbow opened the silverware drawer and slid the dried spoon inside. We continued cleaning silverware, piece by piece.
“You’ve had to deal with a lot for someone so young.”
“I suppose so. Mom’s boyfriends always knocked her around some, but Dean’s by far the worst, especially when she’s using.”
“He hits her?”
Rainbow shrugged. “Like I said, he’s a mean drunk. That’s why she takes off. So she can shoot up in peace.”
“If she’s gone so much, how does she hold down a job?”
“She doesn’t.”
“But if Dean doesn’t work … ”
“They live off Mom’s allowance.”
“Allowance?”
“That
’s what she calls it. It’s my grandparents’ money. They died in a car accident when I was five.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Thanks. I still miss them.”
I considered my own childhood memories with Dharma. More specifically, my lack of childhood memories. Dharma left when I was a toddler, and I had no recollection of our brief time together. “You were only five when your grandparents died. You remember them?”
“Definitely. I practically lived with them.”
I gave her a questioning look.
“Mom’s always liked to party, so she dumped me with them a lot. According to her, they were judgmental jerks, but I loved them, and they did right by us. They left Mom the house and their life savings.”
“Why does she call it an allowance?”
“Because they tied everything up in a trust. Mom gets monthly deposits for our living expenses, but if she wants anything extra, she has to ask the trustee, and he usually says no. She hates Grandma and Grandpa for that, but I think they were smart. If she’d gotten the money all at once, she’d have shot it up her veins by now.”
I calculated eleven years of living expenses in my head. “That must be quite the trust fund.”
“What you mean?”
“It’s supported both of you since you were five.”
She shrugged. “Mom’s not rich or anything, but it puts food on the table. When it’s not enough, Mom does tricks or the drill sergeant takes on odd jobs. I wanted to get a job, too, but Mom wouldn’t let me. She says my contribution is keeping my grades up.”
For the first time, I wondered if Rainbow might be deceiving me. The mother she described didn’t seem like the type to care about grades. Then again, what family wasn’t eccentric?
“Your home life seems tough,” I said. “I’m sorry about that. But living on the streets can’t be much easier. Why did you run?”
