Tom takes his time considering, his thoughtful gaze traveling from Allie’s face, to Braden’s, to Phee’s. Finally, he nods.
“All right. I’m going to get all of you to sign a safety plan that lists the responsibilities you’ve each agreed to. Okay?”
“Of course,” Phee says, her voice low and steady. “Whatever it takes.”
A few minutes later, they are all signing a document. Allie agrees to go to counseling, to refrain from self-harm, to let her father know if she’s having suicidal thoughts. For the next week, she won’t go anywhere without first saying where she’s going.
Braden agrees to lock up sharp objects and medications in the house, to take Allie to counseling, to call Tom if he has any concerns. Phee agrees to cover for Braden so that someone is always awake and available to keep an eye out for Allie. All of them will abstain from alcohol or any recreational drugs.
“It’s been lovely to meet you all,” Tom says as he packs the paperwork back into his briefcase. “But I hope to never see any of you again.”
“Amen to that,” Phee mutters as the door closes behind him.
Allie leans back against the pillow and closes her eyes, looking exhausted and fragile.
“So when are they going to spring you?” Phee asks, thumping the bag down on Allie’s bedside table and unpacking breakfast sandwiches and hash browns. “Figured you’d be hungry this morning. Hospital food sucks.”
Allie rewards her with a faint smile. “Thank you. For everything.”
“Hey, that’s what family is for,” Phee replies, laughing.
“I don’t know if she’s supposed to eat yet,” Braden objects. “We should check with the nurse.”
“Are you hungry?” Phee asks.
“Totally.”
“Perfect. Then she’s supposed to eat. It was an overdose, Braden. Not a burst appendix or cancer or something.”
Allie is already eating, and Braden’s mouth is watering. Greasy and salty turns out to be the perfect comfort food. When the nurse comes in a few minutes later, all three of them stare at her, guilty, crumbs and empty wrappers all that is left of the transgression.
She laughs. “I was about to ask if Allie would like some breakfast, but I see the answer to that. So, how about a shower?”
“Please,” Allie says. “That would be amazing.”
“Why don’t you go home and get some rest?” the nurse asks Braden. “Doctor says she can probably go home this afternoon.”
“I’ll stay,” Braden begins, but Allie cuts him off.
“Dad. I’m fine.”
“You’re no good to her if you get sick yourself,” the nurse admonishes.
Phee takes his hand and tugs. “Come on, Braden. You need to rest. We’ll come back for her when they’re ready to let her go.”
“You’ll call if there’s any problem?” Braden asks the nurse. “Even the tiniest setback—”
“Of course! I promise. Go on, now. Shoo. Let the girl shower in peace.”
“What time do you think she’ll be released?”
“Not before three or four, I wouldn’t think. I’ll call you if there’s any change to that plan as well. All right?”
Braden stands by Allie’s bed, dares to stroke her hair. He wants to hug her more than anything in the world but tells himself he won’t corner her, trapped as she is in the hospital bed.
“I love you, little bird,” he says, and then the miracle happens and she lifts her arms to him, like she used to do when she was a little girl.
He stoops and gathers her against him, her arms tight around his neck as they cling to each other for a long moment. She doesn’t say she loves him, but he thinks, maybe, he feels it in the rapid beating of her heart.
Chapter Thirty-One
ALLIE
Allie’s new reality is as fragile as a spiderweb. All of the things she knew about life used to make a solid tapestry; now she feels as if somebody has unraveled the whole thing, handed her the threads, and suggested she weave them back together without a pattern.
A gift, she realizes with surprise. Her life, to be shaped and re-created however she chooses. The emotional place she was in when she swallowed the pills belongs to another girl in another life.
She’s not numb anymore. The encounter with death has flayed her wide open. Grief hits her in huge, swamping waves, but there’s compensation. The sky outside her window is outrageously blue. Even the faded colors in her hospital gown are beautiful, and she gets caught up in tracing the patterns with her eyes.
Best of all, her anger toward her father is not just muted but gone, washed away by that one bright moment of comprehension just before the pills sucked her into unconsciousness. He loves her. Has always loved her. And maybe, just maybe, she’ll be able to make music again someday.
After her shower, she’s more than happy to climb back into bed, still weak from the overdose. All afternoon, she drifts in and out of sleep. Nothing to do, nothing to worry about, nowhere to be.
It’s a relief to be away from Ethan. He’s alive, and that’s all she wants to know about him right now. She’s glad to be away from the house, away from the cello, away from the guilt about Steph and school. There’s nothing she can do about any of it here, so far away, and that makes a quiet place in her brain that hasn’t been there since the accident.
A shadow, the scuff of a chair moving, alert her to someone in the room, and her eyes flicker open to see Steph sitting in the chair watching her. It takes her a minute, blinking and clearing her eyes of sleep, to see why her friend’s face looks all wrong. No makeup. Not the tiniest trace of eyeliner or mascara. No pale foundation. Not even lipstick.
Allie pushes herself up in bed. “Are you okay?”
“How the fuck would I be okay?” Steph’s eyes are red and puffy. She’s even taken out her nose and eyebrow rings, and she looks younger and alarmingly normal.
“I’m sorry,” Allie says.
“You didn’t even say goodbye. All of these years we’ve been friends, and you didn’t think about me at all?”
“I did!” Allie protests. “I thought about you plenty. I just couldn’t . . . You’d have said something. You helped my dad find me.”
“Well, forgive me for caring,” Steph snarls, but Allie can see how close she is to tears, knows the anger is a shield.
“I really am sorry, Steph. I can’t explain it, or I would.”
Steph flings herself onto the bed and hugs her. “You idiot. I was so worried. Life without you would have been devastating.”
“If I’d told you, I wouldn’t have been able to do it,” Allie admits, hugging her back.
“Promise me you won’t ever do it again.” Steph grabs her by the shoulders and shakes her.
Allie laughs, even as she’s wiping tears from her eyes. It’s amazing how her body keeps manufacturing tears, like there’s an endless supply of them. “Cross my heart. I didn’t really want to die, Steph. What’s with the new look?”
“What? Oh.” Steph touches her face as if she needs a reminder. “I kept crying so much I got tired of redoing my eyes. And then I just said fuck it and scrubbed it all off. And the nose ring sucks when you’re blowing your nose every five minutes. And the eyebrows looked stupid without the rest of it. So.”
“I’m sorry,” Allie says again.
“Your dad’s not so bad, either,” Steph says. “Just so you know.”
“Not going to pepper spray him anymore?”
“He told you that? I thought he’d gone and killed you. You’ve put me through hell, Allie. You owe me big-time.”
Allie sighs, the weight of the world settling back down on her, only not quite so heavy as it was before. Her eyes catch on something sitting on the floor by the door.
“What’s the duffel bag for?”
“Suicide watch,” Steph says cheerfully. “Brought some things. Are you ready?”
“To go home? I guess.” And she is, all at once. She wants her own bed, to get a snack from the fridge.
It will be different now that she’s speaking to her father again. Easier.
“You’re not going—” Steph claps both hands over her mouth.
“What? I’m not going where?”
“Nothing. I went by the house and got you clothes. Figured your dad would bring you stuff you hate.”
It’s an evasion. Steph sucks at lying, but Allie doesn’t have the emotional energy to dig out the truth. It will come out soon enough. Steph also sucks at keeping secrets.
“One thing I need to tell you.” Steph drops her eyes and picks a hair off her leggings. “Don’t be mad.”
“I won’t.”
“Promise.”
It’s going to be big, to extract this kind of promise, but Allie says, “I owe you, remember?”
Steph glances up at her, and then away again. “Me and that lady, Phee, we cleaned up Trey’s room today.”
Allie feels everything inside her go still.
Steph rushes on. “We didn’t, like, get rid of his clothes or his trophies or anything. Just—we turned off the TV and did his laundry and cleaned up some. Like what your mom used to make him do on Saturdays. It’s still his room.”
“It will always be his room.”
“Are you mad?”
“Dad and I couldn’t do it.” It’s the closest she can come to saying thank-you.
“Go get dressed. They’ll be here in a minute.” Steph sits up on the bed and bounces. “This mattress sucks.”
“It’s not supposed to be a Hilton.” Allie takes the bundle of clothes Steph hands her, stopping dead in her tracks on the way to the bathroom.
“They who?”
Steph’s eyes go wide in a feigned innocence that Allie knows way too well. “Your dad. And Phee. Hurry up already.”
Allie slams the door and locks it instead of leaving it cracked, penalty for the lie she knows her friend is telling her. She just can’t figure out what Steph is on about. Her face in the mirror looks washed out and old, she thinks. Even her eyes look faded. It doesn’t matter. She tries to comb through the tangles in her hair with her fingers. “Hey, did you bring me a comb?”
It’s too late. She hears her father’s voice, and Phee’s.
She doesn’t know how to relate to her father without the defensive anger, and she feels shy and naked. But Phee has brought Celestine, and that makes everything easy.
“Is he allowed?” Allie asks, bending over to hug the dog while he tries to lick her face.
“No, he’s not,” her father says. “Phee snuck him in by way of the back stairs. I suggest we make a break for it before they catch him.”
“I think you’re supposed to sign me out first. The nurse said.”
“How about if I go to the desk and do that?” Braden says.
The dog, having thoroughly slobbered all over Allie’s face, turns to sniffing every interesting inch of the room. His tail connects with the water jug on the lowered bedside table, sending it careening onto the floor, then he turns around and starts lapping up the puddle.
“Celestine, settle down,” Phee says, but she’s distracted by something on her phone, tapping rapidly with both thumbs.
Allie just wants to go. The minute her father reappears, she asks, “Are we good? Can we go now?”
“They want you to go in a wheelchair,” he begins, but Allie is already walking.
“No way.”
She runs into a nurse at the door, who looks from her to the dog to Braden and Phee, frowning. “Dogs aren’t allowed. And it’s policy—”
“We don’t believe in policies,” Steph says with exaggerated dignity. “We are rebels.” She grabs Allie’s hand and yanks her past the nurse. Celestine follows, his paws scrabbling on the slippery linoleum.
They take the elevator, not the stairs. Most people’s faces light up at the sight of the big dog.
“Okay, little bird?” her father asks.
Her knees feel weak, her head a little light, but she nods at him. He puts an arm around her, as if he can see what she’s not saying, and she lets herself lean against him the rest of the way out into the parking lot.
“Maybe we should wait here while you bring the car around,” her father says to Phee.
“Actually, our ride is already waiting.” Phee waves at a black SUV parked at the curb. An old man, white haired but agile, gets out of the driver’s seat and walks over to meet them.
“You must be Allie,” he says, taking her hand. His eyes are very blue, both kind and perceptive.
“Hey, Len,” her father says. “What are you doing here?”
“Phee’s car didn’t exactly accommodate the whole crew.”
“What crew?”
One of the doors opens from the inside, and Allie sees that several of the seats are already occupied by a man, a woman, and a girl with facial jewelry pretty much anywhere it will fit and all of the makeup Steph isn’t wearing.
“Your chariot awaits,” Len says, leading her toward the vehicle. “Let me help you up.”
Allie finds herself sitting between Steph and the girl with the piercings. “Cool,” Steph is already saying. “I want ink, but my mom would have a fit. She already had an aneurysm over my nose ring. Your tattoos are totally awesome.”
“This is Katie,” Len says. “Back there we have Jean and Dennis. Everybody, meet Allie and Steph.”
“Nice to meet you,” the man says. He has a quiet voice and a smile that says maybe he understands how Allie feels. “Welcome aboard the adventure bus.”
The woman, Jean, huddled up inside her coat as if she’s trying to disappear, just smiles and nods.
“I don’t understand,” Allie hears her father saying outside the vehicle.
“This is your intervention,” Phee’s voice replies. “Get in.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
BRADEN
Braden shakes his head to clear it. “This is not a good time, Phee, for whatever this is. I thought you said next week.”
“We prioritized you, because of Allie. It’s a perfect time. We’re all going to help you watch her. You’ll see. Come on, Celestine.”
The dog bounds behind her around to the back of the SUV, stopping to snuffle at the back tires.
“Oscar couldn’t come,” Phee says as she loads up the dog. “He couldn’t get anybody to watch the shop on such short notice, and you can’t leave fish and birds alone even for a couple of days. But everybody else is here. We’ve bumped Dennis’s thing to later.”
Braden reminds himself to breathe. “Where are we going? I’m sure Allie would be much more comfortable at home.” He glances at his daughter for confirmation, surprised to see that her face looks animated, a spark of interest in her eyes.
“She doesn’t want to go home,” Steph says. “Too many memories and shit. Right, Al?”
He waits for Allie to protest, but she just shrugs, her eyes conveying some sort of message he can’t decipher.
“I packed some things for you,” Phee is saying. “And Steph packed for Allie. So no need to go back to the house at all.” She faces him head-on, looks into his eyes.
He ought to trust her by now. She’s been there for him and for Allie, and he feels guilty at his besetting doubts, but her face wears a wide-eyed, innocent expression, at odds with her usual directness. Cello music resonates in the air around them, and he has a presentiment that if he goes and looks in the cargo compartment, he’s going to find the cello buried under luggage and one very large dog.
He wants to run both of his hands through Phee’s wonderful hair and kiss her, right here and now, in front of God and everybody.
He wants to put his hands on her shoulders and shake sense into her.
“I feel like a hostage,” he says, mostly to prevent himself from acting on either impulse.
She grins at him, as mischievous as a child. “It’s an adventure! We’re not going to duct-tape you and shove you in a closet. We want to make sure you stay sober and that Allie doesn’t hurt herself. That’s better done away from
all temptation, don’t you think?”
“Can’t argue with that logic,” Len says.
“Come on, Braden,” Katie calls. “Let’s get this show on the road.”
Phee gives him a little shove, and despite all of his misgivings, Braden climbs into the available back seat, next to Jean. Celestine, in the cargo space right behind him, pokes a cold nose into his neck, leaving a string of slobber behind. Anxiety flutters in his belly as the door slams, closing him in.
Jean’s thin hand rests on his arm, cool, gentle. “All will be well,” she murmurs. “Don’t fight what you cannot change.”
The idea of letting go, of letting the thinking be done for him for a while, of having a group share the responsibility, of not having to go back to the house that shouts of Lilian and Trey and all of his failures, is surprisingly seductive.
“Am I allowed to ask where we’re going?”
“You can always ask.” Len shifts into gear. “As it happens, none of us know. Phee is the keeper of secrets on this one, and I only know enough to point us in the right direction.”
“Wouldn’t want to spoil the surprise,” Phee says. “First destination point, Easton. Already checked the road conditions. Traffic normal. Snoqualmie Pass, clear and dry. No snow. Make it so, Captain.”
“Aye, aye,” Len says.
Allie cranes her neck around to look at Braden, eyebrows lifted in a question.
“I assume I’m allowed to share AA information with Allie and Steph, seeing as you’ve brought them into this?” he asks the group at large.
“They must be sworn to secrecy,” Katie answers dramatically. “Raise your hands in the air and repeat after me.” She raises her own right hand, and Steph and Allie mirror her. “I do solemnly swear that I will keep the secrets of the Adventure Angels. What happens on this adventure stays on this adventure.”
Steph breaks up in a fit of giggles. Allie elbows her. Both of them recite the words with due solemnity.
“Do you go around kidnapping people on a regular basis?” Allie asks.
“Adventures are usually voluntary,” Dennis answers. “Desperate times, desperate measures.”
Everything You Are Page 25
