Sweet Liar

by Debra Doxer

  I hadn’t offered Jonah any this time, and he eyed mine. He could eye it all he wanted. I wasn’t waiting on him today.

  Jonah watched the time while I sipped my tea. My body felt so taut in the stilted atmosphere between us, I thought I might break if I tried to move.

  Sitting across from me, Jonah looked as if he felt the same way. In the hours that had passed since he left here last night, things had turned even chillier between us. Where was the Jonah who’d kissed me and made me feel alive again? Not here, sitting in my little yellow kitchen right now.

  The few remaining minutes dragged out, and I realized the tea was a mistake when the few sips I’d taken began to slosh around uncomfortably in my jittery stomach.

  “It’s time,” Jonah finally said. He picked up his phone and dialed.

  Sitting up straighter, I watched his every move closely, listening intently when he held the phone to his ear. I was more nervous than I thought I’d be. With people listening in, we couldn’t talk about the situation, not that my father would tell me anything anyway. What would he want to talk about then? Did he even want to talk to me?

  I was still second-guessing myself when Jonah said, “I have her here,” and handed his cell phone to me.

  Hesitantly, I took it and moved it up to my ear, a strange reluctance taking hold.

  “Candy?”

  I gasped at the sound of my father’s voice as my throat thickened and tears sprang to my eyes.

  “Dad,” I whispered.

  “How are you, little one?”

  Sniffling, I pushed to my feet restlessly. I couldn’t sit still. “I’m okay. How are you?”

  As I waited for him to answer, I walked out into the living room, not wanting Jonah’s watchful eyes on me.

  “I’m fine. You don’t have to worry about me.”

  I swallowed, trying to keep my voice from shaking. “Don’t worry about you? How can you say that? You should have told me. I asked you to talk to me so many times.”

  There was a pause before he replied. “What would I say, Candy? There was nothing you could do.”

  His answer was so typical of him.

  “We should have left sooner.”

  “It’s better for you this way. Now you can finish school, graduate, and go to college like you were meant to.”

  I brushed away the tears spilling down my cheeks. “I don’t think it’s better.”

  “Listen to me. You have to stay strong. I’ll be disappointed if you let yourself fall apart.”

  Anger washed over me. I could fall apart if I wanted to. If anyone was entitled to fall apart right now, it was me.

  Did he think I would get on with things like nothing happened? That his life wouldn’t spill over into mine? Did he have any idea what Jonah and Victor wanted me to do? What would he think if he did?

  As much as I wanted to tell him, I knew I couldn’t, and I didn’t want to spend the call being furious with him or making him angry with me.

  “What’s it like there?” I asked, changing the subject and picturing a jail cell.

  My dad sighed loudly over the phone. “I have a room with a bed and a window. It’s small but functional.”

  “I tried to help you,” I said, remembering how the gun felt in my hand.

  He was quiet for a moment. “I know. I saw.”

  I swallowed at how little he had to say about it, foolishly hoping he’d somehow be proud of me and of how far I’d been willing to go to help him. Instead, I could hear a tinge of disapproval in his brief response.

  “You can live in the house as long as you want or sell it,” he was saying. “You know by now it’s yours.”

  I sat down on the couch. “Sounds like you don’t plan on coming back.”

  “I don’t know what will happen. I’m taking it one day at a time. But I want you to take care of yourself. Keep up with your schoolwork, and even though I’m not there, cook dinner each night the way you like to. I already miss your enchiladas. The food here is lousy.”

  I wiped at my runny nose with a trembling hand. “You’ll get out of there and come home again. I believe that. So you need to believe it too.”

  There was a rustling sound from his end. “I’m sorry, Candy. They’re telling me it’s time to go. Don’t forget what I said. Make the enchiladas tonight and think of me. Follow your mother’s recipe, and I’ll think of you too at dinnertime. I want you to promise me.”

  “I promise,” I said softly, knowing I had no appetite for enchiladas or anything else.

  Then there was a click and he was gone.

  Still gripping the phone, I just sat there. A tissue box appeared on the coffee table in front of me. Glancing up, I saw Jonah, and all I could think was that he knew the whole time. He knew they were taking my father away and I might never see him again, and he’d never said a word.

  “Candy . . .”

  Despite the plea in his voice, I stood up abruptly and carelessly tossed his phone onto the table. Brushing past him, I walked down the hallway to my bedroom, and closed the door behind me.

  As I sat down on my bed, I grabbed a tissue from my nightstand and tried to calm down. When I heard the knock at my door, I wasn’t surprised, and when it opened despite my not offering an invitation, I wasn’t shocked by that either. Jonah was going to plead his case again. I could feel it, and it was the last thing I wanted to hear right now.

  As he came into the room, he eyed my tear-stained face and his already sullen expression fell even further. Despite my glare, he sat down on the edge of my bed and looked at me.

  Shifting, he rubbed his cheek. “Maybe talking to him was a mistake. It just upset you more.”

  He watched me, and I could see the helplessness he felt in his hesitant eyes and turned-down lips.

  “I shouldn’t be telling you this, but I don’t want you to get close to Drew or his family. There’s no guarantee it will help your father. No one is promising you anything. They want to use you to get to the truth the same way they have all along.”

  I eyed him suspiciously. “But your father wants me to—”

  “I’ll smooth it over with him. You don’t owe him anything. You should get on with your life. That’s what your father wants. He made his choice. This happened to him, not you. You still have all your choices ahead of you.”

  Jonah extended his hand and rested it on my forearm.

  I stared down at his hand, at his long tapered fingers and the raised network of veins along the back. He waited for me to remove my arm, but I didn’t. It would make the rift between us even deeper, and for some reason I didn’t want to do that.

  “I’m still thinking about it,” I said. “I haven’t decided anything yet.”

  His fingers curled inward, pressing into my skin before he released me. Then he sat there, not saying anything, just watching me like he was trying to see inside me, until I averted my gaze.

  “I’ll pick you up for school in the morning,” he finally said, his voice tinged with defeat.

  My gaze returned to his.

  “No matter what you decide, you need to go to school. There’s only a week left before the holiday break. Finish out the semester and keep your options open.”

  “Will you still be there?” It didn’t seem like he had a reason to be at school anymore.

  “My original goal hasn’t changed. Drew knows something, and I still need to find out what it is.”

  I rolled my eyes. “He’s never going to talk to you.”

  Jonah smiled tightly. “We’ll see.”

  He knew I was right, but he wouldn’t admit it. “So we go to school tomorrow like nothing’s changed, and I’m supposed to pretend you’re a student?”

  “I know everything has changed and it won’t be easy. But yes, you’re supposed to go to school tomorrow. As for the rest, I’ll leave that up to you. We can’t ask anything more of you. If you want to blow my cover, go ahead, but then the Hoyts will find out and if they have the information we want, the odds of getting it go
way down.”

  “Why should I care?”

  “Because your father is tied to all of it, and despite pretending not to care, I know you want to learn the truth as much as anyone.”

  I pressed my lips together, less concerned with the truth than I was about helping my father. “I guess I’ll see you in school then.”

  Jonah must have realized that was his cue to leave, because he stood slowly and walked toward the door. When he paused, I recalled what he’d said yesterday while standing in the doorway, and braced for more of the same. His eyes held the same heaviness, like he wanted to explain again and keep explaining until I forgave him.

  As determined as I was to stay resolute in the face of his earnestness, I was afraid I would crumple eventually because my feelings for him had been real. They’d taken root long before I knew the truth, and his obvious regrets were keeping them alive, no matter how hard I tried to excise them.

  But he said nothing this time. After a long, piercing look, he turned and walked out as if he’d given up on me, and the disappointment I felt was surprising and disheartening. Despite his deceit, a part of me wanted him here, saying he was sorry until I believed him because I wanted to believe.

  I was weak when it came to Jonah, but couldn’t afford to be.

  ***

  The very last thing I felt like doing was eating, especially enchiladas. I had no idea why my father had been so adamant about them, but I’d promised to make them. Now I stood in the kitchen with the order form from the market on the counter in front of me, and my mother’s recipe book beside it.

  It was early evening, nearly a full day since my father had been taken away. I missed him, even though I’d gone a lot longer without seeing him.

  With a tired sigh, I began to flip through the recipe book, scanning for what I needed, which I knew was around the halfway point. I stopped in the middle, turning the pages until I spotted my mother’s large, loopy writing spelling out enchiladas.

  When I flattened the page, my gaze flew to a scrawl in black ink at the bottom, and I inhaled sharply because it was my father’s writing. That hadn’t been there the last time I made this recipe. My blood halted in my veins and the world stopped turning. This writing was for me. He wanted me to find this.

  Looking closer, I saw he’d written an address. I didn’t recognize it, but it was in Ryberg. That was why he made me promise to make the enchiladas.

  My belly filled with a nervous kind of giddiness, and I barked out a laugh. Had our whole phone call been bullshit meant for those who were listening, all to pass this information on to me? He wanted me to go to this address; I knew it. My father was good. I had to give him that.

  I touched my fingertip to his deep scrawl, tracing the indentations in the paper. For a moment, it was as if he were here talking to me, helping me, telling me what to do. Relief set in. I needed some direction, and now I had it.

  I packed a quick overnight bag and grabbed the car keys from my father’s room. If I left right away, I could be there by nine, which wasn’t too late to show up to wherever he was sending me. While I was in Ryberg, I could stop by to see Theo too.

  It occurred to me that I might not be back in time for school tomorrow, which wouldn’t make Jonah happy. My stomach dipped as I wondered for the first time if he or someone else was watching the house. If Jonah convinced them I had nothing to do with my father’s crimes, would they even bother? I had no idea.

  After flicking off the light, I walked to my bedroom window and lifted the shade just enough to peek out. My window looked out onto the front of the house. It was dark already, but I could see the road in both directions, and I didn’t notice any unfamiliar cars outside, just the usual neighbors. To be safe, it was probably smart to drive around before I got onto the highway to make sure no one was following me. But I had a feeling no one thought I was important enough to watch or follow.

  I recalled how dismissive Jonah had been at the possibility of my hurting his father when I shot at him, as if I was incapable of doing him any real harm. Since they already had my father, there wasn’t anything else they could get from me other than my cooperation. Based on the little they’d offered in return for it, I didn’t believe they truly needed me for that either.

  They were underestimating me, but that was okay because it seemed to be working in my favor.

  I grabbed my phone to enter the address into the GPS, and then shoved the car phone charger and my recipe book into my bag, along with a cold bottle of water from the refrigerator and a bag of chips that would be easy to eat while I was driving. Then I filled Pumpkin’s food dish and headed for the car.

  Two hours later, the bag of chips lay empty on the seat beside me with the heated gloves Jonah had given me. They worked too well to leave behind.

  My GPS directed me through a dark neighborhood of small single-story houses. Despite living in this town with my aunt’s family for six years, I’d never spent much time on this side of it, far from the center, secluded in the dense woods with not much else around. As I drove through the night, the road narrowed and the area turned more rural. Streetlights were sporadic, and the woods thickened until houses were hard to see, hidden behind what was turning into a forest.

  I glanced down at the phone to find I was only half a mile from the address my father had given me. My excitement dissolved into nervous anticipation as I wondered what I might be driving into. Even though this area was secluded, I wasn’t scared. I trusted my father not to send me into a dangerous situation, and hoped he’d sent me here to find something that could help him. What I didn’t want to find was a stash of money or some other proof that he’d done something wrong, and that he’d done it for greedy reasons.

  By the time the GPS announced I’d reached my destination, my nerves were stretched taut. I stopped the car in the road and looked down the length of a long, dark driveway. The house at the end was obstructed by thick trees in the front yard.

  With my heart in my throat, I turned into the narrow driveway. I’d run into some traffic on the way, and it was just after nine thirty now, a little too late for an unexpected visitor, but not so obscenely late that I’d be rousing someone out of bed. At least, I hoped not.

  Before I reached the end, I spotted a dim light shining through the trees. It was a lamppost illuminating a walkway, and now I could see a white sedan parked in front of the garage. I took this as a good sign; it made the home seem more welcoming. I could see now it was a small gray clapboard house, much like the others on the street. Bushes lined the front. The house was old but appeared well kept.

  I buttoned my coat and pulled on the gloves. It was a frigid December night with a low gauzy sky that threatened snow. After tossing my phone into my bag, I got out of the car and headed up the walkway, noticing there was a light on inside, muted by heavy curtains.

  After climbing the small stairway, I pressed the doorbell and heard the muffled sound of chimes through the door. My pulse was pounding so hard, I could feel its speedy rhythm echo through my body. It seemed as if a long time passed before I heard a lock click, and the door was slowly pulled open only an inch or so.

  I positioned myself to the side so I could be seen. After a moment, the door opened wider, and standing there in a pink terrycloth robe was a tall blond woman.

  She blinked in the low light, looking surprised to see me. Her hair color was the monotone kind that came from a bottle, and wrinkles around her eyes and mouth were made more noticeable by the makeup caked inside them. She looked around fifty or so.

  “Hi.” I smiled hesitantly, not sure how to introduce myself or explain why I was here.

  Her head tilted to the side as she studied me. “What’s your name,” she asked.

  “Candy.”

  “Candy Seaborne,” she said. “I thought so. Come in.” She stepped back to allow me inside.

  A mix of surprise and curiosity came with me through the door. Who was this woman, and how did she know me?

  When I walked
inside the small entryway, I smelled what was probably the remnants of dinner, something that left the scent of garlic behind. A sitting room was off to my right, where she’d obviously been watching television. It was turned down low, and a blanket was tossed across the couch.

  The woman closed the door and turned to face me. “Would you like to sit down?”

  I nodded and followed as she moved toward the couch, where she gathered the blanket and folded it, and then set it off to the side to make room. Using the remote on the coffee table, she turned off the television, and sat down to watch me as I pulled off my gloves and lowered myself onto the other end of the couch.

  She offered me a hesitant smile. “If you’re here alone, I’m afraid it’s not good news.”

  I eyed her curiously. “I’m not sure why I’m here. I don’t mean to be rude, but who are you?”

  She smiled shyly, looking almost embarrassed. “I’m Lorraine, a friend of your father’s. Did he send you?”

  I nodded, wondering if she was more than just a friend. I didn’t think my father had any friends like her. The fact that he’d choose a woman like Lorraine would be surprising. She was so different from my mother. They were both attractive, but my mother was a natural beauty while everything about this woman was fake, from her thick bleached-blond hair to her long pink fingernails.

  “Is he okay?” she asked. The skin around her eyes wrinkled with concern as she waited for my response.

  I had no idea what she knew about my father, but he had sent me here. He must have wanted me to talk to her.

  “He’s in trouble with the people he works for. Actually, he’s gone. They came and took him somewhere.”

  Her throat moved as she swallowed. Then she glanced away, reaching up to move her hair behind her ear. I got the feeling she understood how bad this was, even though I’d told her very little.

  “That’s why he never came today.” She turned to look at me again. “He told me you were both leaving, and asked me to come with you. I waited all day.”