“Because nobody who does more pecks good-bye.”
She’d just opened the dishwasher to start unloading it when I had to blurt it out. I couldn’t hold it in any longer. “Did Madeline ever tell you about Nicholas?”
Mama had begun to pull glasses from the dishwasher, and she slowed as if to think about it. Still feeling too impatient and unwilling to wait, I pushed. “Did she?”
She turned to me, her expression unsure. “Who now?”
“Nicholas,” I said, mad that I hadn’t thought to get his last name. His business card only listed the name of his business, but even that was obscure. “Big guy with tattoos all over his arms and neck. Rides a motorcycle?”
“You saw him?” She stared at me curiously as she straightened out from where she’d been leaning over into the dishwasher.
“Yes,” I said, nodding with excitement. “Today. He was at her grave when I went to drop off flowers.”
“You went back to Huntsville?” she asked, and I could see she was trying to hide the disappointment.
“Yes,” I said, feeling the frustration mount because, so far, I knew nothing.
I gave her the story Clarisse and I had come up with to explain my being in Huntsville. How the same fire that had rerouted Nicholas there had rerouted us too. Then I threw Clarisse under the bus. I told Mama she’d been curious about Huntsville and, since we were so close, suggested we swing by.
“Do you know him?” I asked again.
“I think I remember a Nic . . .” She paused, and her eyes went wide. “Yes, I remember now. How could I forget? He and his brothers were the town heartthrobs or terrors,” she added with a smirk, “depending on who you asked.”
My heart walloped with excitement. Maybe this was the answer to my reaction to him. “He has brothers?”
“Yes. You and Madeline”—she rolled her eyes, waving her hand in front of her— “along with the rest of the girls in town had huge crushes on them when you were real young. But Nicholas was the oldest of the brothers. Way too old for either of you.”
“He didn’t seem old to me.”
“Well, older than you two at the time,” Mama countered as she went back to unloading the dishwasher again. “You two were only fourteen or fifteen when you both started gushing about them. I think he was twenty or twenty-one. He and his brothers were all over town in their insanely loud motorcycles.” She stopped and looked up at me like something had suddenly hit her. “He was at her grave?”
“Yes, and he said he was her boyfriend.”
“What?” She stopped with the dishes, straightened out, and stared at me. “Her boyfriend?”
“Yes, and, Mama, he looked so broken up about her still, even after all these years.”
She shook her head, staring out at nothing as if pondering what I just told her. “That’s insane. When she was fourteen, I would’ve never allowed it, but maybe when she’d gotten older?” She shook her head again. “It just doesn’t make sense though. Madeline knew better. Those boys went through girls like cigarettes. Sure, you two had been infatuated by the bad-boy image they had at one point, but later, you both referred to them as man whores.” She turned to me suddenly with her eyes wide. “They did drugs. Pot for sure, but I’m pretty sure they were into other stuff. By now, he’s probably graduated to the real hard stuff. Maybe he was high?”
This time I shook my head. “He wasn’t, and he was driving his motorcycle.”
“Well, that doesn’t mean anything. They were always on those bikes back then, and that never stopped them. It just doesn’t make sense. I remember Madeline being disgusted every time we happened to be in town and saw him with a different girl on his bike. She also said their smoking was disgusting, and we all agreed every one of them would end up dead or in jail someday. They were such bad news.” She shook her head again and went back to emptying the dishwasher. “No girl they ever dated was the only girl, Maggie. And rumor had it that they’d already impregnated several and weren’t owning up to it. Madeline was too smart to get involved with a troublemaking womanizer just looking for one thing.”
“But he said he’d never get over her and—”
“Unless,” she said, glancing up at me wide-eyed. “Your sister could be sneaky and compulsive. Maybe, like the many other girls in town that boy charmed, he’d managed to charm her too, and knowing I’d be against it, she’d done something with him behind my back. It wouldn’t surprise me at all if he’d fallen in love with Madeline, who could also charm the devil herself. It’s the only thing I can think of because last I remember she was in full agreement that those boys would likely never amount to much.”
I’d give Mama that Nicholas did look like he might smoke weed. He had smelled like cigarettes or something like it. And his appearance, given all the tats, was hardly that of a prim all-American boy. In fact, he even looked like he might be Hispanic; though I’d never known Mama to be racist in the least. Only there was no denying the pain he was still in over Madeline even after all these years.
“How many brothers did he have?”
Mama eyed me as if she knew what I might be thinking—that maybe I, too, had been the object of one of his brothers’ affection. Since Madeline and I were so close, as inseparable as Mama always said we’d been, it made perfect sense that I might’ve done some sneaking around with her.
“Three,” she said as her eyes narrowed in on me. “Each one worse than the last. If any of them had bothered to finish high school, they would’ve been voted most likely to end up on death row.”
Okay, one thing was clear. Mama had hit it on the nose. If Madeline had in fact been dating Nicholas, this explained why she’d keep it from Mama. Clearly, either of us dating guys like him and his brothers would not have been allowed, which made my heart thud even harder. Mama said Nicholas was the oldest. Were any of his brothers closer to my age? Had I been keeping something from her too?
My heart sank when I thought of something else. Wouldn’t Nicholas have mentioned it? Then I remembered something I’d forgotten about when I’d stood there today staring at Nicholas. How struck he’d been. It was probably the last thing on his mind.
Keep in touch. Please.
“He seemed nice enough,” I offered cautiously. “He took Madeline a bouquet of Birds of Paradise. After all these years, that has to mean something, doesn’t it?”
“What else did he say to you?” Mama asked, leaning against the counter now.
“He wasn’t there very long. And he was very polite. He seemed as stunned as I was to see him because . . .” I stopped, wondering if it was a good idea to tell her, but it was too late. I’d said too much already. “I had one of my triggers when I first saw him, and the entire time we spoke, I felt breathless.”
“He and his brothers were charmers, Maggie,” she said, crossing her arms in front of her. “His womanizing was legendary in town. It wouldn’t be unheard of that he or maybe one of his brothers had at some point flirted with you. For as much as both you and Madeline acted disgusted each time you saw them with a new girl, there was no hiding that twinkle both of you still got in your eyes,” she said with a smirk. “But in the end, you both agreed they were nothing but trouble.”
Why I felt the need to argue—defend him—I wasn’t sure. But I did. I hurried to my purse where I’d left it in the front room.
Rushing back into the kitchen, I pulled out my wallet and his card. “He owns his own business, Mama. He can’t be that bad.”
I pulled the card out and handed it to her. Mama examined the card then glanced up at me. “He gave you this? Why?”
“So we could stay in touch, I guess.”
Mama glanced back down at the card when a loud knock at the door made us both flinch. I followed Mama to the front door where two police officers stood in uniform.
“Good evening, ma’am,” he said, and it was then that I noticed the other squad car out in the street and neighbors gathered outside on the sidewalk.
“Yes?” Mama aske
d a bit anxiously.
“I’m Deputy Lowell, and this is my partner, Deputy Ramirez. We’re going door to door tonight because this is the third time this week that there’ve been sightings of a possible prowler in the area, someone lurking around windows of some of the homes with lights off and such. Your neighbor from across the street said she thought she saw someone lurking in between your home and the one next door here to your left.”
“He was outside my house? When?” Mama asked, sounding as alarmed as I felt suddenly now too.
“Yes, ma’am. Well, she’s not sure it was your house or the neighbor’s. He was right over here,” he said, stepping back so we could step out and look.
He pointed at the dark corner of our house where big bushes separated our house and the neighbor’s.
“It’s hard to see from her front window, but she said someone was definitely there earlier about an hour or so ago. She went to get her phone to report it because she knows no men live here or next door, but he was gone when she came back to the window. Have there been any men here today?”
“Not that got out of the car,” Mama said. “I was dropped off about a half hour ago, but he didn’t get out of his car.” She turned to me. “Has Ryan been over at all lately?”
“No,” I said, shaking my head. “Not in weeks.”
“He’s described as a white male in his twenties,” Deputy Lowell explained. “About six feet, two hundred pounds. Have you seen or heard anything suspicious?”
“No,” Mama said, glancing over across the street to the neighbor who lived across from us speaking to another cop. “I haven’t.”
“Neither have I,” I said when he turned to me.
He gave us a little more info about the other sightings in the neighborhood, all nearby in this past week alone, but said there had been no reports of burglaries or break-ins. Still, he urged us to make sure we kept our doors and windows locked as much as possible to be on the lookout for any suspicious activity.
More neighbors had come outside, and we walked over to talk to some of them after the officers excused themselves and proceeded to our neighbor next door. She was an older lady who lived alone.
Mrs. Conroy from two houses down said she’d heard a few of the houses on the block had been broken into recently. If the officers hadn’t already informed us there’d been no such break-ins or reports of burglaries, this might’ve alarmed us. But Mrs. Conroy was known to embellish whenever we spoke with her. She was this neighborhood’s gossip. Like Jenna back in Huntsville, Mama said there was one in every neighborhood. She said “kickball head” Mrs. Conroy was ours.
We exchanged notes with other neighbors as Mrs. Walker, the neighbor who’d seen the prowler, told us about it.
“I had to do a double take when I first saw him,” she explained to us. “I’d heard about the other sighting from Mina up the street, when I saw her at the supermarket the other day. So, I immediately thought it was odd that he’d just be standing there like he was trying to decide which window to try and peek into first. It’s so dark in that corner, so at first glance, I didn’t make him out, but when I did the double take, there was no question about it. It was a guy, and he looked very suspicious, so I rushed to get my phone, but when I got back, he was gone. Still, I didn’t think I should just leave it at that, and I called the police.”
Her description of him was as vague as the police officer had given us. It’d been too dark and far to see any details of his hair or face, but she was sure he was white. After chatting for a while longer, Mama walked back into the house to grab our phones when we all decided to exchange numbers. She rushed back out with them, and we all exchanged info and some suggested we might get a neighborhood watch started. The wind picked up and the chill in the air had us cutting it short and heading inside.
“Spooky,” Mama said as she locked the door then checked the windows. “Make sure your bedroom window is locked. My skin was crawling the whole time Mrs. Walker described the guy near your bedroom window.”
“I know. Mine did too,” I said, shaking off the chills it gave me again just thinking about it. “Maybe we should consider getting a floodlight installed in that corner. It is dark there.”
She said she’d look into it first thing. I’d showered that morning before we left the hotel, but the long ride home with the moon roof open the whole way made me feel dusty, so I decided to shower again.
It wasn’t until I was back in the shower that thoughts of the prowler were drowned out by the memory of Nicholas. I had so much I wanted to ask him now. Then I remembered the business card. Had Mama given it back?
As soon as I was out and dressed, I walked into the kitchen where she was fixing herself some tea. “Do you still have Nicholas’s business card?”
“No,” she said, glancing up at me. “I gave it back to you.” She thought about it for a moment. “Didn’t I?”
“I don’t think so,” I said, walking back to my room to check my jeans’ pockets.
It wasn’t in there; then I remembered she’d been examining it when we heard the knock at the door. “You had it when the cops arrived,” I said, walking back into the kitchen. “Check your pockets.”
She checked the pockets of the sweater she was still wearing but shook her head. “Are you sure I didn’t give it back to you?’ she asked, glancing around the kitchen counters.
“I’m sure.” I walked around, looking at the counters and on the floor. “I remember you were just looking at it when they knocked.”
Mama checked her pockets again and then the ones on her jeans. “Maybe I dropped it?” She walked out to the porch and even onto the front walk, looking on the floor.
For a second, it occurred to me she might’ve thrown it away either by mistake or on purpose since she didn’t seem too keen on Nicholas and his brothers. So, I checked the kitchen trashcan. It was nearly empty, and I didn’t see the card in there.
“It’s not out there,” she said, walking back into the kitchen. “Yeah, I was gonna say check the trashcan.” She walked over to where I still stood over the trashcan, peering into it. “Maybe I threw it out without thinking.”
“It’s not in here,” I said with a frown and beginning to panic since I already knew the shop was nowhere to be found online. “Do you know his last name?” I asked, even as I continued to search around for the card.
She frowned, shaking her head. “Gosh, I don’t remember. It’s been so long.”
My shoulders slumped, and I felt irritated suddenly. “How could it just disappear?” I stopped and turned to her. “When you came in for the phones, did you put it down somewhere?”
She thought about it for a moment then started out of the kitchen and I followed. “If I had, then it’d be in my purse.”
I hurried behind her as she reached her purse in the front room since my phone was in there. She searched in it and all around it. We both checked the floor and searched all over for the damn card, but it was nowhere.
“Are you sure you’re not keeping it from me?” I snapped after lifting the cushions on the sofa where I knew it shouldn’t be.
“Why would I do that?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” I said, glaring at her, not sure who I was more pissed at: her for possibly lying to me about this or me for having been stupid enough to hand it to her. “Maybe because you don’t like him or his brothers and you don’t want me staying in touch with him.”
“Honey, that was a long time ago.” Her expression was a cross between hurt and genuine surprise in my accusation. “Back then I might’ve objected to you or your sister getting involved with any of them. You were both young and naïve. You’re a big girl now. I trust your judgment, and this is different. I know how much remembering means to you. If I knew where the card was, I swear I’d tell you.”
Immediately, I felt bad and exhaled loudly. “I’m sorry. This is just so frustrating.”
“Can’t you look him up online?” she asked.
“Not without a last name.�
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She frowned as she thought silently for a moment. “I know it was a Spanish last name. I knew that much about them but not much else except for all the stories I heard about him and his brothers getting in trouble all the time.”
I threw out all the common Spanish last names I could think of at her in a long-shot attempt to actually get it: Ramirez, Gonzalez, Garcia, Hernandez, Martinez, Vasquez, Reyes. Nothing. She shook her head, frowning each time.
I threw my hands in the air, feeling completely exasperated. “Oh, honey,” she said, holding her hands at either side of her head. “If I could remember, I swear I’d tell you. But my mind is drawing a complete blank. I don’t even remember his brothers’ names. He’s the one I’d seen around most since he was the oldest and started driving that damn motorcycle a lot sooner than the others. Just keep looking,” she said, opening the drawers to the console table by the front door. “It’s gotta be here somewhere. Maybe I absentmindedly put it away in a drawer or something. I’ll check all the drawers in the kitchen too.”
Feeling desperate, I grabbed a flashlight and went outside. I even searched the street and crossed it to where we’d stood talking to the neighbors. It was nowhere. I did my best to hold in the emotion that’d begun to suffocate me as I searched the front yard thoroughly because it might’ve flown away. I didn’t want Mama to see just how upset I was about this. Without a last name or his business being listed anywhere, I might not ever talk to him again.
It was heart-wrenching, and I wasn’t sure which would be more alarming: that I may never talk to him again or that the very thought had me choking up already. After much searching in every crevice of the front yard and porch, I finally went inside. I told Mama I was tired and would keep looking tomorrow because I didn’t know how much longer I could hold it together without breaking down.
Once I was safely behind my closed bedroom door and under my blankets, the reality set in. Unless I camped out at my sister’s graveside for the rest of my life, I’d lost the only way I might be able to get a hold of Nicholas again and possibly regain more of my lost past. The tears came en masse the more I thought about what I’d felt from just seeing him. How in the world was I supposed to just forget about him now?
Girl In The Mirror (Looking Glass Book 1) Page 8
