by Becky Melby
“What?”
“The knee slap thing.”
“That’s exceptionally demeaning, even for you.” Ruffling her hair, he said good night. He walked into the hallway then turned back. “It was nice to hear you play again.”
She strummed a chord. “I should have closed my door. I didn’t think you could hear me over the radio. That song has to get to you.”
“It does.” He ran his hand along a spot of patched plaster in the hall. “But it’s a good one. You should write more. Maybe a happier one.”
“Yeah. Maybe I will.”
Halfway down the stairs he heard her say “Someday.”
Rena curled in a ball on the bare mattress. The cold from the stone walls seeped into her. In the hesitant light from her lantern, she stared at the four streaks above the door. They’d once scared her. She’d been sure the dark brown stains were blood. Now they were simply a part of her hiding place. She turned off the lantern to save the battery and welcomed the darkness. Jarod had left the little room a mess. Beer cans littered the floor. She felt violated all over again. It was her place, hers alone. She never should have let him in.
Tears ran across the bridge of her nose. She didn’t even know who she was crying for anymore. It had started with Miguel and moved on to every loss she’d ever experienced, including her mother. She’d once told Jarod she sometimes cried for her mother. He’d laughed. “Don’t waste your tears on somebody who ditched you.” It was the last little part of her heart she’d tried to share.
God, can you hear me? Did thick stone walls, or doubt, block her words?
She had to do something. She’d go somewhere. Maybe China would take her with her.
Is that why they leave us alone? Or is it because you live here?
If she left home, or even just left Jarod, the restaurant wouldn’t be protected and neither would she. She picked up her phone and called her best friend. Trish answered with a sleepy voice and stayed silent as she spoke her fears out loud and searched for a way out.
When she finally ran out of words, Trish sighed, loud and harsh. “Don’t be stupid, Ren.” Her voice raked exposed nerves. “Jarod’s your force field. He’s what’s standing between you and what happened before. You’re not going anywhere, and you know it.”
Rena curled her hand, pressing her phone to her chest, and sobbed again for a future that could not be.
CHAPTER 12
It was just beginning to get dark on Friday night when Evan turned Agatha onto the gravel road leading to the private beach. They’d agreed the H1 didn’t fit the image. The air was cool, tinged with the smell of rain. Dani opened the window. Thoughts bounced like the strands of hair whipping her face and neck.
Doubts about the night ahead competed with anticipation of tomorrow. Nicky had suggested lunch at Petrifying Springs Park. She’d bring the diary and a notebook. He’d bring lunch. She couldn’t shake the sense that it felt like a date. A wave of dizziness disoriented her every time she thought of the quicksilver shifts in his attitude—and her response. She didn’t want to be one of those women who caved at a smile. Or a chiseled profile. Or shadowed brown eyes with stories to tell. Or a “just for you.”
As she smoothed the frayed edge on one of many holes in the skinny jeans she’d hemmed during her lunch break, she planned what she’d wear tomorrow. And hoped the wash-off tattoos would really wash off and the Rock’n Red temporary hair color was really temporary.
No one seemed to notice as they found places on the outside of a circle of maybe thirty kids surrounding a bonfire. Dani drew her knees to her chest and dug her bare feet into the sand. A hush, almost a reverence, hovered over them. Whatever she’d been expecting, it wasn’t this.
Evan snapped pictures and made it look like he was just texting or scrolling for music on his phone.
Rena left a group of girls and sat next to her. She pointed at the magnetic stud in Dani’s nose. “Hey, Cerise. You look good.”
Dani introduced her to “Razzi” then nodded toward the cluster of kids Rena had just left. “What did you tell them?”
“I said you guys knew China so I invited you.”
“China’s gone? You’re sure?”
“Yeah. I heard they were leaving really early this morning. It has to be killing her not to be here.” “Which one is Jarod?”
“He’s not here. I knew he wouldn’t come.” She jabbed stiffened fingers into the sand.
A dark-skinned girl in a red shirt stood up and walked toward the fire. The others quieted.
“I wrote a poem for Miguel. It’s called ‘Dark Angel.’ Um—I guess I’ll just—uh—read it now.” The paper in her hands shook as she began.
Always standing in the shadow,
always centered in the storm,
you reached for light, but never felt it,
you begged for peace, it never came.
Like a fading star’s glowing path,
your death points us to light
and makes us cry for peace—
the peace you never knew.
Your quest goes on
in those you leave behind,
in us you will live on, dark angel.
When she finished reading, she slowly ripped the paper and let the pieces fall into the fire. As the last piece sparked and hovered above the flames on the waves of heat, she wiped her tears. “Goodbye, Miguel.”
Another girl stood. Rena leaned close to Dani. “She’s Miguel’s stepsister.”
The girl ran the back of her hand across her face. “This maybe sounds like I’m dissin’ Miguel, but I’m going to read it ’cause maybe somebody else is dealing with feelings, and I think it’s okay to let it out and not keep all the junk inside.”
Clearing her throat, she read from a pink paper. “This is so unfair. It hurts so bad, and I can’t do anything to make it go away. It didn’t have to be this way. If only you would have told someone. No one knew how bad you were hurting. You didn’t give us a chance, and now it’s too late, and we’re left with tears and memories and guilt. Sometimes the sadness is so thick and black I can’t even breathe. Getting mad helps ’cause then I can blame you and not myself, but I always come back to the whys about me. Why didn’t I see? Why didn’t I listen? Why didn’t I know? Why couldn’t I stop you?” She let the paper fall into the fire along with her tears.
Dani wiped at her own tears, and Evan squeezed her hand.
Rena stood and walked over to a guitar leaning on a boulder near the fire. “’cause I’ve kind of been through this once before, I just want to say that the really intense pain doesn’t last forever. And one day you wake up and you remember the good times, and you can laugh without feeling guilty, and then you know it’s okay to go on.” She strummed several chords. “I wrote this for someone else, but I hope it can maybe give somebody here some hope.” She began to sing in a voice that was startlingly sweet and clear.
Put a flower on your grave today,
A single, perfect rose.
Then I stood and watched the petals curl,
Turn brown and blow away.
Shed a tear at your grave today,
A single crystal drop,
then I stood and watched it hit the stone,
Catch light and fade away.
Left my sadness at your grave today,
And walked out on my own,
Knowing who I am is part of you,
And you’re not far away.
Stopped to listen at your grave today
For laughter on the wind.
Then I stood and smiled as memories
Took wings and flew away.
Came to whisper at your grave today
Of going on alone,
Then I stood and said good-bye to you,
And turned and walked away.
Left my sadness at your grave today,
And walked out on my own,
Knowing who I am is part of you,
And you’re not far away.
Rena set the guita
r down without a sound. The crash of the waves beat a cadence in the silence. A log crumbled, sending orange sparks into the night air that turned black as they rose. Dani looked around the circle, in awe of the talent, depth, and creativity she was witnessing, and yet every one of the kids sitting around the fire had probably been labeled a throwaway by someone. She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. Please, God. She wasn’t even sure what she asked for.
Rena took two steps and froze. Her eyes widened then darted toward Dani.
“Hey!” A male voice broke the silence. “China’s here.”
Dani’s chest locked. Evan’s grip tightened. Head low, she turned.
China stumbled toward the group. In spite of the darkness, it was clear she’d been drinking. Two of the girls ran to meet her, and each grabbed an arm. As she got closer to the firelight, Dani caught a glimpse of the crazed look in reddened eyes. China pushed away the girls who were supporting her. From behind her back she produced a gun. “Anyone want to do this for me?”
Gasps rose over the crackle of the fire.
“That’s what friends are for, right? No? Fine, I’ll do it—”
“Rabia! Grab it!”
A heavyset boy with an eagle tattooed on his arm grabbed China’s arm. The gun went off, pointed straight up.
China’s legs folded. She sank to the ground. Wild eyes swept the group. She blinked and shook her head in confusion. Her eyes lasered into Dani’s. Her breath came in short, loud gasps. “Perfect. You come to watch—” She bent toward the fire, almost losing her balance, and grabbed a burning stick. Holding it out in front of her, she lunged at Dani.
Using Evan’s arm for support while holding an ice pack to the back of her head, Dani tried to absorb the instructions the emergency room nurse listed. Stitches closed the gash above her left elbow. Loose gauze covered spots of third degree burns. The back of her head bulged with a lump the size of a kiwi. She nodded at the nurse, but her brain was fuzzy and the tears wouldn’t stop.
Evan kept his arm tight around her waist as they walked out into the waiting area. Rena, wearing shorts and a tank top, was curled like a kitten in a plastic chair. She looked up when they got close. Evan handed her a red plastic bag. “The nurse tried to rinse out your shirt.”
Dani touched Rena’s bare shoulder with the backs of her fingers. Air conditioned air blasted. “You were probably freezing without it.”
“I’m fine.”
“You should be a nurse,” Evan said. “You moved fast.”
The past two hours were a blur, and whatever they had given her for the pain was doing strange things to her head. She remembered bits and pieces. China lunging at her with the glowing stick. White hot pain. Rena taking off her shirt and wrapping it around her arm. The next few moments came into focus then faded.
Evan pulled out his cell phone. “I’m taking you to Anna’s.”
“No. Her mom’s visiting.”
“Then Vito and Lavinia’s.”
Dani opened her mouth to protest, but Rena spoke first. “She can stay with me. She can have my bed, and I’ll sleep in my dad’s room. He doesn’t use it, somebody should.” Dani shook her head, but Rena continued. “It’ll be fun. Nicky’s trying a new brunch promo on weekends, so he makes cinnamon rolls and—”
“Not Nicky.” She’d just proven once again she was all he’d said, silver platter and all.
Rena laughed. “He’ll be working all night and in bed before you wake up.”
She shook her head again and the room tilted. She leaned against Evan and closed her eyes. “No Nicky.” Her voice sounded far away. “But I don’t want to wake Vito again.”
“Then it’s settled.”
She walked between them on a floor that bounced and rolled like an inflatable gym. As they eased her into the car, she wondered what it was that was settled.
April 13, 1925
Tag smoothed back his hair with both hands, opened the car door, and offered his hand. As if he were some kind of gentleman. “You’re a natural, doll.”
Francie checked her lipstick in her compact mirror and straightened her necklace, “You’ve been training me for six months.”
It seemed so much longer. Impossible that half a year ago she’d been a barefoot farm girl in overalls. She ran her hand along her skirt, smoothing three tiers of gold satin, and got out of the Model T without the aid of his hand.
“Gorgeous gams.” Tag lifted the hem of her dress and laughed in a way that not long ago had made her heart flutter. “It’s been that long, huh? At Thanksgiving you were still the pudgy kid playin’ the part of my little sister. Every time I think of that teller in Rockford… ah, good times. But no more banks for you, no more hooch runs. You help me move up, I return the favor. Look at you, all svelte and acting like a lady, but knowing just when not to. Like I said, you’re a natural.”
Francie sighed. Not that he’d notice.
“Maybe time for a little anniversary celebration.” As he ushered her, hand on her back, toward an unremarkable door on the dimly lit street, he pulled a long, slim box from his pocket. “Get Mr. Carson out of here tonight, and what’s in here, and more, is yours.” He knocked three times, paused, and gave a fourth sharp rap. The door opened.
They hurried in and the door closed behind them. Soft lamplight illuminated a haze of smoke hovering over small round tables. Women in jewel-toned gowns lounged on overstuffed sofas, laughing with the men they leaned against. A jazz piece Francie hadn’t heard before jangled from the piano in the corner. Tag helped her out of her coat and dipped his head toward a thin man leaning on the bar. The man lifted his glass.
“Go do what you do so well, just don’t do it too well.” Tag laughed and walked toward a group of men in the corner.
Francie applied a coy smile the same way she’d put on lipstick and sidled up to the man. “Mr. Carson. Remember me?”
An hour and a half later, Mr. Carson pulled up at a house two blocks from the one Tag had bought for her. “You’re sure you’ll be all right?”
“Yes. I just need to lie down.” She rubbed her temples and winced. “I’m so sorry to take you away from everything.”
“My pleasure to be of service. Will I see you next week?”
“I do hope so, Chester.” She gave the kind of smile a woman with a migraine would give and waved as he drove away.
Her job was done for the night. She’d given Tag the time he needed for plans to be made and money to change hands. In exchange for what, she hoped she’d never know. She took off her hat and walked home to the part of her life that wasn’t a total lie—the little boy her sister had given a name “as close to yours as I could for a boy.”
Suzette met her at the door, high heels in hand. It was all Francie could do to look her in the eye and say good-bye. What her sister had become since she’d gotten pregnant and left home was unspeakable. “I did what I had to do.” Francie hated the line. Especially when she used it herself.
Francie kicked off her shoes and went straight for her nephew’s room.
“Hi, Aunt Frazzie.” Franky sat up in bed. He lowered the ladder on his fire truck, set it on the window sill, and slid under the covers.
Francie grinned at his name for her. Folding a white sailor suit, she sat on the edge of the bed. “Hi, little man.” She pushed aside a dark ringlet and smacked a loud kiss on his forehead.
“I’m not little. I’m almost this many.” He held up four fingers.
“Only three more months.” She picked two books from a basket.
“Winnie-the-Pooh or Ring O’Roses?”
“Tell me about Applejack.”
“Again?” She pulled the blanket up to his chin. “Applejack was the tallest, strongest horse for miles around. All the farmers wished they had a fine plow horse like your grandpa’s Applejack. His hooves were as big around as a dinner plate…” Dark eyes fluttered as she spoke. In minutes, his soft, deep-sleep breathing filled the tiny room.
Francie turned off the lamp, walked to
her room, and pulled out her diary. This wasn’t the life she thought she’d be writing about.
CHAPTER 13
Teeth, long and sharp, sank into her arm. Some animal, a dog or a tiger with a massive head, gouged a huge chunk, shook her, and bit again.
Her own cry woke her. Her left arm throbbed. She opened one eye. A thin square of light from a street lamp outlined a window to her right. Faint music played somewhere beneath her. Katie Melua. “The Closest Thing to Crazy.” She breathed a sigh. She was home.
A light blazed on above her.
“What the—”
Dani grabbed the sheet and pulled it up with one arm.
“What the heck are you doing here?”
Nicky. Her eyes shot open. “Where—”
“What’s with the tattoos? Where’s Rena?”
“In your father’s room.”
Nicky folded his arms and stared. Katie Melua sang about the link between being close to crazy and close to you.
Dani shook her head to clear it. A wave of dizziness stopped her. She closed her eyes again then opened them slowly, hoping the statue-stiff figure in the doorway had slipped back into her nightmare. “I got hurt down at the beach and Rena came to the hospital with me. The stuff they gave me for pain made me a little foggy, so she offered to let me stay here.”
He didn’t blink.
She turned away and saw the prescription bottle sitting on the nightstand. She reached for it. The bedside lamp swayed before her eyes. Her head hurt, her arm throbbed, and Nicky’s silence magnified it all. Say something. Scream, kick me out, don’t just stand there. She squeezed the childproof cap and willed tears not to fall. “Rena’s a good kid. It was nice of her to let me stay. “
Nicky snorted and took two strides into the room. Dani pulled back.
“Give it to me.”
The bottle shook. The sheet fell off her bandage. Blood soaked through the gauze in a crisscross pattern.
“What happened?” His voice lost some of its edge.
Once again, the change in his tone unnerved her, brought the tears closer than his anger had. She didn’t trust herself to answer. Nicky read the label on the bottle then put one white pill in her hand and put the cap back on. Dani pulled the covers back with her good arm. “I need to get some water.” She stood. The angles of Nicky’s face swam like the bottle painted on the building next door. She sank onto the bed, head down.
