by Amity Hope
He didn’t say anything to that but he didn’t need to. I couldn’t help but think that even though he claimed he didn’t want to talk about his life, maybe a small part of him did. I was learning that as long as I didn’t press too hard, he was likely to let things slip on his own.
“You know, you can come over here anytime you want. If things get bad at your house, I mean,” I said quietly.
He clenched and unclenched his jaw. His eyes were still closed. I knew him well enough to know he was done and he was checking out on me. I reached for his hand. It was hot, thanks to the water temperature. I wrapped my fingers around his, wishing I could do more.
“If you decide you want company on that road trip, let me know,” I said, not caring if I was being too forward.
His eyelids fluttered open. “You’d come with me? Even if I’m not sure where I’m going?”
“In a heartbeat,” I promised.
CHAPTER 14
Since my return to Woodbury, I had not been to Seth’s house other than the time I was retrieving the mail. More and more, he’d been showing up at mine. Any reservations that Dad might have had about Seth vanished. He joined us for family dinners a few nights a week, when his practice schedule allowed for it. Other nights, he’d come over and we’d do homework together. A few times we tried out more recipes from our Home Ec schedule. Sometimes we’d just hang out downstairs. With each visit, Dad seemed more assured that Seth was the same, mild-mannered Seth that he’d always been.
He never brought up the night of the arrest again. I had yet to bring it up with Seth. I was curious, and I planned to find out eventually. There just never seemed to be a good time to bring it up, or a tactful way to do so.
Paula seemed to adore him. That could possibly be because he never grumbled about joining us when she suggested an impromptu game night. He always swore to me he didn’t mind. And honestly? I thought maybe he didn’t. When we were kids, he’d spent a lot of evenings at our house, always happy to participate in whatever my family had planned. When I felt compelled to grumble about game night, I kept it to myself. I realized that I should be grateful for those evenings. There were things a whole lot worse than a family that loved you, that wanted to spend time with you.
Just ask Seth.
Not that he would tell.
I was happy that he seemed to like being at my house. I liked that he felt comfortable just stopping by.
Lately, it had started to bother me that his house, like so many other things, seemed to be off limits. While he was opening up some, he was still closed off more often than not.
When I finally had a legitimate opportunity to stop by, I took it.
I rang the bell, listening as it reverberated through the house.
Seth opened the door with a hesitant look on his face. “Hey, what are you doing here?”
I held up an envelope, a credit card bill of Mr. Ryerson’s by the looks of it. “This got mixed in with our mail. I decided to walk it over.”
“Thanks,” he said as he plucked it from my fingers.
I stood there for a moment, waiting for him to invite me in. When he didn’t, I decided to invite myself in.
“Are you doing anything right now?” I asked as I stepped inside.
He gave me a tentative look as he closed the door.
“Not really,” he said.
“Can I stay for a little while?”
He narrowed his eyes at me, not in frustration, I didn’t think. More like contemplation. He finally blew out a sigh. “Yeah, sure. Come on in.”
“I don’t have to stay long,” I said. “I mean, will your dad be mad that I’m here?” The very last thing I wanted was to be the cause of any kind of trouble for him.
He shook his head. “I have no idea. He never said you couldn’t come over.”
Ah, so Seth just chose not to invite people over. Not that I blamed him.
“He must know we’re dating,” I said as I followed him.
He placed the envelope in a basket with the rest of the mail, lining up the edges just so.
“Yeah, he knows. It was pretty obvious when I shoveled a path to your house,” he said with a smile.
“That path is pretty handy,” I told him. Though tonight was the first time I’d used it for more than a walk to his truck in the morning. “So, what were you doing before I got here?”
“Nothing much,” he shrugged as he seemed to rethink his answer. “Actually, I’ll show you.” I followed him out of the kitchen. The same contractor had built all of the houses in Idyllic Acres. The floor plan of his house was similar to that of ours. I hadn’t spent a lot of time here. I had only been allowed over when Mr. Ryerson had been at work. Even then, Joanne preferred to have us stay outside so we wouldn’t make a mess.
I had been in Seth’s room a few times but I honestly couldn’t remember what it looked like. As soon as I stepped inside, I realized one thing hadn’t changed. His room had always been immaculate. Today, the bed was made, the navy blue comforter pulled across so tightly no wrinkles were evident. No clothes were strewn about. Nothing, not even a pen was left out on his desk.
The militant tidiness, something I had come to associate with this house, was what made the mess on the floor so noticeable. It wasn’t actually a mess. It was simply a pile of books. But in the otherwise spotless room, they looked out of place.
I glanced around. The cream colored walls were the same. I hadn’t been in a lot of boys’ rooms but Brady’s had been plastered with sports posters. Galen, a guy I’d dated for only a short time before Brady, had walls plastered with rock band memorabilia.
Seth’s bedroom looked nothing like their disastrous bedrooms. He had one shelf on the wall. It held trophies that he’d acquired over the years. Under it hung a single picture. I thought it was probably of this year’s hockey team. Other than that, his walls were bare. A small flat screen TV rested straight across from his bed, on his dresser.
Seth dropped himself down on the floor, his back against the bed. I copied him, sitting so close that when we pulled our knees up, they bumped.
“You’re looking through old yearbooks?” I asked as he picked one up. I pulled another one off the pile and glanced at the date. They were old yearbooks. Far too old to be his. One of his parent’s maybe? His mom’s, I decided.
“They’re my mom’s,” he said, as if hearing my thoughts.
“What are you doing with them?”
“I’ve been looking through them, trying to see who her really good friends were,” he said as he absently flipped a few pages.
“Do you think she’s staying with a friend?”
He shrugged. “I have no idea. But it’s somewhere to start.”
“You’re sure she’s not with her sister?”
“I doubt it. My aunt, Elizabeth, was fifteen when Grandpa and Grandma died.”
I remembered when his grandparents had passed away. They’d been on their way home from the grocery store and a teenager had run a red light. That had been years and years ago.
“She wanted to come here, to live with us. Mom had to tell her no. I don’t remember all the details. It was a really long time ago. I remember hearing them argue right after the funeral. Mom told Elizabeth it just wouldn’t work for her to live with us. I figured Elizabeth should’ve been grateful. Anyhow,” he quickly added on, “as far as I know, they never spoke after that. Elizabeth went to live with an aunt. It was the only other relative they had.”
“What are you getting out of the yearbooks?”
“I’m reading all the notes in the back. You know how most are pretty lame?” I nodded. “I’m making a list of people who wrote personal things, long notes, that kind of thing. There really aren’t that many.”
“Then what?”
He raked a hand through his hair. “Then I try to track them down?” he looked at me as if wanting me to confirm his thought. “I don’t know. It’s probably all a waste of time. I’m sure everyone on my list is married by now. They’ve
probably all got different last names. It’s likely a lot of them moved away. I don’t know how to look for these people without my dad finding out.” He slammed the book in his lap closed. “This is probably stupid. I just don’t know where else to start. I don’t know how to find her. She could’ve left the country for all I know.”
I raised my eyebrows. “Do you think that’s a possibility?”
He shook his head. “I doubt it. I don’t think she had enough money to get very far. Or maybe she did. Maybe she’d managed to put some money away.” Joanne had been a stay at home mom. “I know Dad rarely gave her cash for anything. She always wrote a check for the groceries and she had to give him a receipt.”
“Is there anything I can do to help?”
He looked like he was about to say there wasn’t. Then he handed me one of the yearbooks. “Do you want to look over some of the messages? I don’t really know what I’m looking for. Maybe a girl’s eye would be better. Tell me if there’s anything you might write to someone if they were your best friend?”
“Sure, I can do that.” I took the book from him. I wasn’t sure that I would have any better luck then he had but I was willing to try. I scanned through page after page of handwritten notes, in various scrawls, various pen colors, with varying degrees of familiarity. Only a few stuck out as notes that I might write in Alyssa or Gabby’s yearbooks. He added the names to a list he kept in the back of his Trig notebook. Then he stuffed the notebook into his backpack.
“How about college friends?” I asked. High school seemed like such a long shot.
“She didn’t go to college,” Seth said.
“How did she and your dad meet?”
“She was working at a coffee shop that Dad went to a lot,” he explained. “I don’t even know the name of the place.”
The sound of the front door slamming made us both jump.
“Dammit.” He glanced at the clock as he got to his feet.
“What’s wrong? I thought you said he won’t be mad that I’m here?” I scrambled to my feet as well. “I can sneak out.”
“No, it’s not that. I left some stuff lying around downstairs. I was planning on heading to your house before you showed up here.” He glanced at the yearbooks and then at the door. “There’s a box under my bed. Will you put those in it and shove it to the back?”
“Yeah, no problem,” I knelt down already reaching for the first one.
“I better go down and get my stuff put away.” He disappeared into the hallway before I had a chance to say anything else. I pulled out the box and stacked the four yearbooks inside. Then I pushed the box back as far as my arm could reach.
I got to my feet and waited for a moment, unsure of whether I should go downstairs or wait for Seth to come back up. I didn’t think about it too long. I decided to go down. I was halfway down the staircase when I heard Bart’s low rumble. I couldn’t make out the words but it was obvious he was angry about something. A few more steps down and Seth and his dad came into view.
Seth had the closet door open and he was sliding his jacket inside, hanging it up. As he pulled his arm out, Bart slammed the door on it with both hands.
“Dammit!” Seth hissed as his forearm became trapped between the door and the frame.
“How many times do I have to tell you not to leave your shit lying around?” Bart growled. He kept his weight pressed against the door, crushing Seth’s arm inside.
“Hey!”
Bart’s gaze snapped to me, instantly releasing Seth.
“What the hell is she doing here?” he asked.
Seth held his arm close to his body, rubbing what I was sure would turn into a bruise.
“She was dropping off some mail. I left my jacket out because I was planning on going to the Monroe’s,” Seth said. “But she showed up here.”
Bart said nothing to this. He didn’t look at me as he made his way toward the kitchen.
“Are you okay?” My voice echoed against the high ceiling of the foyer.
I knew that Mr. Ryerson heard me but he didn’t look back as he disappeared into the other room.
“I’m fine.”
“What was that about?” It was a stupid question but I had to say something. I couldn’t just pretend I hadn’t seen it.
“Nothing,” he muttered.
“Let me see,” I said as I reached for his hand.
He snatched it away from me. “You should probably go home. Dad’s not in the best mood tonight.”
“Tonight?” I quietly asked. “Or always?”
“Harper, just—”
“Do not tell me to drop it,” I said, guessing what he was about to say.
“Fine,” he said, keeping his voice low. “My dad is a bastard. Is that what you want to hear? I never said we were a happy family of two now. I said things were better.”
I released a sigh. Better was not good enough.
“Can we just talk about something else?” His tone implied that either we talk about something else, or we talk about nothing at all.
I stuck my hands in my back pockets and let my gaze drop to the floor while I thought it over. This was important and I didn’t want to be put off. I shook my head. “I don’t think so. I want to talk about this.”
“Fine,” he crossed the room and grabbed my jacket. I had left it on the bottom step, not knowing what an issue it might cause. Apparently, Bart had not noticed it when he’d come in. He’d been too distracted by Seth’s backpack and jacket, which he’d left on the floor in the foyer.
“Are you kidding me?” I asked as he dangled it in front of me. I knew he wasn’t and the sarcasm in my voice was thick.
He continued to hold my jacket out to me, an unyielding look on his face. “Either change the subject or go home.”
I stared at him wide-eyed. He stared right back with a silent challenge.
“He can’t do that to you,” I whispered. “It’s not fair. And it’s wrong.” His brow furrowed as he looked toward the kitchen. I was keeping my voice low but it was obvious he was afraid I’d be overheard. “I can’t just let this go.” I couldn’t. Before tonight, I’d only had my suspicions but what I’d witnessed only made me believe my suspicions were right.
“I’ll see you later then.” His tone was resolute.
He was still holding my jacket at arm’s length. I yanked it out of his grip and shoved my arms inside.
“Fine, if you don’t talk to someone, I will.” I opened the door and let myself out. I was so angry I barely noticed the cold as I descended the steps. I was only a few feet down the driveway when I heard the front door open and close again.
“Harper!” Seth called. I ignored him and kept walking. He caught up to me, grabbed my shoulder and swung me around. “Please.”
“Please what?” I demanded.
“Please don’t blow this out of proportion!”
I shook my head. “I’m not. Your dad leaves bruises on you. All the time. You lied to me!”
“No. I didn’t. I told you the truth. Things are better than—”
“Better is not good enough!” I interrupted.
“You don’t understand my life!”
“So the other night, at my house when you said the bruises were from hockey, that was a lie.”
“No. They are from hockey.” He said it without hesitation. Did that mean it was true? Or did that mean he was so used to lying that he didn’t have to think twice about it?
I shook my head, unsure of whether or not to believe him.
“That was the truth.”
Movement in the window caught my eye. I was sure Bart had been watching us through the living room window but the curtain fell closed again.
“I don’t believe you.” I tugged my arm free from Seth’s grip and headed down his driveway instead of taking the cut across path through our yards.
“Harper, wait.” I could hear his heavy footsteps right behind me.
“I’m going for a walk,” I said. It was dark but the moon was out an
d the stars were shining brightly enough to light my way. “You can join me if you want to.”
He hesitated only a moment before I heard the crunch of his footsteps. He caught up to me and we walked in silence for several minutes as we began the circle that would loop us back to our houses.
“What do you want me to say?” he finally asked. “I mean, what the hell am I supposed to do?”
“Tell someone!”
“Do you think they’d believe me?” he asked. He stopped walking and I did too.
“Why the hell wouldn’t they?” I demanded.
Now, when I least expected it, he told me about the night his dad had him arrested.
“One night last year, I told him I was going to my coach. All hell broke loose and I fought back because I’d had it. I thought I was finally getting the best of him—I didn’t realize he was letting me. That night he called the cops. He was on a first name basis with the officer that showed up. The whole time, he was saying things like, ‘Son, I’m sorry it’s come to this. And I’ve been doing the best I can now that Joanne is gone. I just don’t know what to do with him anymore’. He put on a show for the officers. They totally bought into it.”
“Why didn’t you tell them the truth?”
“Don’t you think I tried? He told them I’ve been out of control since Mom left. He told them he’s had a hard time handling me. He brought up the time I got suspended but he made it sound a hundred times worse than it actually was. That night, I had a bruise on my cheek and he explained that away by saying it was self-defense. But then he made himself out to sound like a martyr. I had that one bruise. He told them that after that he couldn’t bear to hit me again. So he just took all the punches I threw.” He shrugged. “I almost can’t blame them for believing him. I mean, they come in and take one look at us? It’s obvious he’s bigger than me. Yet, he’s the one that looked like he’d been beat to hell.” He shook his head. “I should’ve known I wasn’t really getting the best of him. I should’ve known he was just setting me up.
“He does all the things a ‘good’ dad should. He shows up at all of my games. My truck is nicer than anything my friends drive. He goes to parent teacher conferences. Of course, he doesn’t hesitate to tell them what a handful I am at home. I completely screwed myself over when I got suspended last year. He loved that. He had a nice long chat with the principal, telling him he had been afraid something like that would happen. It was like I helped him cover his bases.”
