Deliver Her: A Novel

by Patricia Perry Donovan

  That last image freaked Alex out so much she almost accepted Chester’s offer of a drink—something potent and caramel-y that she’d never heard of. But she needed a clear head for her journey.

  “No worries,” Chester said when she turned him down. “Plenty more where this came from, right, Kyle?”

  Before long, they stopped for gas, dispensed from the bizarre pink gas tanks Mom Haircut noticed right before the crash. The two got out, talking and pointing to the truck occasionally, Kyle stomping away from Chester at one point.

  When they got back in, something felt wrong, like they had unfinished business. Alex brushed off her uneasiness; she needed them. As Kyle pulled out onto the Kanc again, Chester’s hand suddenly landed on her knee.

  “About time we get to know each other a little better. You got a boyfriend?”

  Alex jerked her leg away, her mouth going dry at his touch.

  “Aww. You shy all of a sudden? We got a long ride ahead of us.” He creeped her out the way he lingered on the word long.

  That’s when she knew she had to get out, destiny or no destiny. Gripping her bag, she slid toward the door, wired for the Kanc’s next curve. When the truck slowed, she threw open the door and leaped out, landing sideways in icy slush.

  The truck lurched to a stop. Chester hung his head out the window. “What’s the matter, girl? I scare you? I was just messing with you.”

  Alex prepared to run, but Kyle gunned the engine and the truck disappeared around the bend. Jackhammers in full throttle, Alex crouched by the side of the Kanc until the only sound was the sleety wind whipping the evergreens—when she felt calm enough to walk back toward the gas station.

  That ride had only been a brief detour, she reassured herself; she’d be more selective next time. Even without Cass’s scarf, she knew her friend had her back. And besides, she still had one more good luck charm. She pulled Camo Man’s plastic figure from her pocket, falling sleet brightening the reptile’s scarlet stare, hinting at untold truths. Kissing its bulging cheek, Alex began her skate-walk back to Swiftriver.

  “We need to know, Miss Carmody,” the trooper pressed. “Did those truckers hurt you?”

  Perched on the counter stool, Alex reached into her pocket and squeezed Rainmaker for courage. “No. Not at all. It was really stupid to hitch. So I changed my mind and jumped out.”

  The trooper shut his notebook. “Well, then. That’s it. Looks like their story stacks up.”

  Alex was free to go, they said.

  Faint with relief, Alex sat at the counter, picking at pancakes Mia’s mother set in front of her. Her entire body felt wrung out; there was an ache in her neck that hadn’t been there when she went to sleep.

  Reaching for the jug of syrup, she noticed the mud-colored moose lumbering across its label: “Made in New Hampshire.” The pancakes turned over in her gut, and she pushed the jug away.

  Camo Man’s voice came from behind her. “Alex. I almost forgot.”

  Something tickled her ear. Spinning to face him, she brushed silk. Purple silk.

  “My scarf,” she cried, grabbing hold of it. “How did you . . . ?”

  “I took it last night. Your mother told me it was very special.”

  Thank you, Mom. “I thought it was lost forever.” She pressed the fabric to her cheek, then wrapped it twice around her head. It was never coming off this time.

  “Tell your friend it did some good.”

  If only I could.

  Alex slid off the seat and pulled Chester’s spare cigarette from her bag. “Just the porch. Promise. It’s gonna be a long day.”

  She sensed Camo Man hovering on the other side of the door as she lit up, just as he had positioned herself outside Mia’s room last night. She’d almost fallen over him on the way to the bathroom. She dragged furiously on the cigarette, hurrying to finish before her parents arrived.

  Swiftriver’s door opened. Mia slipped out, squinting in the sunlight. She touched the scarf. “Pretty color.”

  “Thanks. It was Cass’s.” It felt surprisingly good to say her friend’s name out loud. She would do it more often. Turning, Alex aimed her cigarette at the pink gas tanks in the parking lot. “So’s that, by the way. Not. Who picked that brilliant shade?”

  Mia laughed. “My mother.” She fake punched Alex’s arm. “See? You’re not the only one with a lunatic mom. Anyway, the pigs kind of put Swiftriver on the map, you know? You can’t miss them.”

  It was true. The fuchsia tanks with their red tongues and swishy tails had helped Alex find her way back.

  Mia leaned against the porch rail. “So, reunion time, huh?”

  “Yeah. Any second.” Alex ground her cigarette into a sand-filled bucket by the door. “Um, I guess I should thank you.”

  “It’s all good.” Mia grinned.

  Again, Alex felt the relief of confiding in someone, the dam breaking, the lightening of a burden she’d carried for so long. Her mom had been right, of course: it did help to talk about things sometimes, even the saddest things in the world.

  “I’ll be in New York for school this fall. Maybe we can hang out.” Mia lowered her voice. “But don’t say anything inside. My mom’s not exactly chill with it yet.”

  “No worries. I’ve got enough to deal with.”

  “Like that, maybe?” Shading her eyes, Mia pointed to a vehicle pulling in.

  Recognizing her dad’s truck, Alex’s shoulders slumped. “Yeah. Like that. Think you can stall them a sec?”

  Mia crossed her arms. “I guess. What for?”

  “There’s one more thing I have to do.”

  CARL

  Carl was tired of babysitting. His eyes burned from squinting at the two young women through the glass pane bordering Swiftriver’s front door.

  He needed a meeting. The memory of last night lingered. He was unsure how long he’d gripped the glass Iris handed him, holding it next to his heart while they chatted, anticipating the sip that would numb the ache in his head, the restlessness in his gut. Numb everything.

  His hand had tightened around the whiskey, the sleet thrumming steadily on the roof overhead. The storm had heightened everything: sound and light and emotion, changing the rules somehow.

  And then Iris asked about Carolyn’s family.

  Jimmy. All it took was the thought of his friend, the fallen hero. Saying Jimbo’s name, the weakness and temptation passed, and Carl’s survival instincts kicked in—an unwavering need to feel the loss and guilt and pain of the day’s events rather than camouflage those emotions, no matter how wrenching. That was the only way to respect Jimmy’s memory, to express his gratitude for having served beside him, for having been invited into his life, however brief it was. The only way to honor the promises he’d made in church and to be there for Carolyn and Jamie in the fullest ways possible.

  Carl had sniffed the drink one more time, then set his untouched glass next to Cam’s bottle and slid it toward the shopkeeper. “On second thought, Iris, I’ll pass.”

  Skimming his head with his hand, he’d proceeded to tell Iris everything he could remember about the Murphys: their love match at the police station, their abbreviated but joy-filled marriage, the child that remained.

  Not too much later, he said good-night, then took his post upstairs, wrapped in an afghan Iris gave him.

  And now, in the stark sunlight of the brilliant New Hampshire morning, another family demanded his attention. Leaving Mia to tend to Alex, Carl took a seat at Swiftriver’s counter, waiting for the Carmodys to retrieve their daughter.

  ALEX

  Shana answered on the first ring. “Girl! I thought it might be you! I’ve been freaking out here.” After spending the night at Alex’s, she was having breakfast with Jack. Alex didn’t mention that her brother had already filled her in.

  “Isn’t it weird to be there without me?” Murmuring into Mia’s phone, Alex moved away from the porch as her parents’ voices floated across the parking lot.

  “Not really. Jack’s so s
weet. I might go to his baseball game.”

  “He’ll be glad somebody else is there to watch besides Aunt Melissa.”

  “Al, you OK? Your mom told me what happened.”

  “I’m good.” She crouched down, watching her parents climb Swiftriver’s steps. There wasn’t much time. There was something she needed to make sure of before she could face her mother and father.

  “Another accident, though. You must have been all, like, déjà vu. Was there tons of blood?”

  “It was dark, Shana. It was hard to see.” She couldn’t handle going over the gruesome details. “Listen, I’ve got to go in a sec, but by any chance did you get to the cemetery yesterday?”

  “No. I was going to, but then I had this thing, and then it started raining . . .”

  You said she was your friend, too. “Listen. I’m pretty sure my parents will put me on lockdown for a while after all this. Could you try to get out there and, like, keep Cass company?”

  “Sure, Al. Whenever I can.”

  “OK, cool.” She took a deep breath. “So. What’s up with Evan?”

  “Nothing. Good move with that text, by the way. He said he’s cool with you. You should have seen him yesterday. All over Larke at school, disgusting PDAs in the hall.”

  “Really.” Another person Mia had been right about.

  “Listen, Al.” Shana’s voice dropped to a whisper. “I had the best talk with your mom in your room last night. She’s so cool—she made me feel really good about everything. Like this gigantic weight lifted off my chest. Did she tell you about our conversation?”

  “Nope. Haven’t seen her yet.” Jealous at the idea of Shana and her mom all cozy in her room, Alex remembered her mother’s unread letter at the bottom of her bag and felt better. She lowered herself onto a log that edged some shrubbery. “Actually, Shana, how about you tell me what you guys talked about?”

  MEG

  Meg raced into Swiftriver a few steps ahead of Jacob and scanned the store, recognizing the tall man with the white Vandyke striding toward her. “Carl. Where is she?”

  “She’s here. Don’t worry.”

  Meg’s knees weakened, powerless against a fresh wave of panic. The door jangled, and Jacob joined them. Carl spoke before Meg could even introduce the two men.

  “Mr. and Mrs. Carmody, let me just say—” he began.

  “Save the apologies, Alden,” Jacob said, glancing around the store. “Where’s my daughter?”

  A young woman with a mass of black curls approached them and smiled. “You must be Alex’s parents. I’m Mia.”

  The artist who helped Alex, Meg realized. “Thank you for everything you did for our daughter,” she said.

  “It was nothing. She’s great,” Mia said. “She’s right outside. I’ll go get her.”

  Carl launched into another apology. “Believe me, if I had a chance to do things differently, to take a different route, I would.”

  Jacob stepped closer to the transporter. “I had no idea about this scheme of yours, you know that? She set up this whole thing behind my back.”

  Carl sighed. “That’s between you and your wife. I’m just so sorry about what happened.”

  “I can explain, Carl. I—” Meg went silent as Swiftriver’s door swung open again, and the morning sunlight silhouetted her daughter in the doorway.

  “Alex,” Meg whispered, woozy with relief. She stood still, steeling herself for the inevitable cold shoulder she rightly deserved. Let her come to you in her own good time.

  She couldn’t have been more stunned when Alex bolted across the store and locked her in a hug so constricting it almost knocked the breath from her. Meg sank into the embrace, drinking in Alex’s perfume of cigarettes and fresh mountain air, cupping her daughter’s head as she had when she was a baby, both of them weeping.

  “How are you?” Meg finally murmured into Alex’s hair.

  “I’m fine now. I’m good.” Alex tightened her grip around Meg’s waist.

  “Alex, I am so, so sorry. I never should have . . .”

  “Mom, stop. It’s OK.”

  “It’s not, Al. You don’t know . . .”

  Alex pulled back and gazed at Meg, her bare face glistening. “Yes, I do, Mom. I know what I need to know. I’m just so fucking happy to see you.” Her hand flew to her mouth. “Sorry.”

  “It’s OK. I’m fucking happy to see you, too.” Meg couldn’t believe she was laughing. And crying. And that her daughter was hugging her. Hugging her. She pressed Alex away to drink in the sight of her. Even with the sterling lip ring, Alex looked years younger than the snarling teen she’d woken yesterday, her face scrubbed of makeup, Cass’s silky purple scarf having somehow resurfaced and now wound around her daughter’s head, giving Alex the colorful air of a gypsy.

  “What about me?” Jacob had been standing to the side, watching them.

  “Daddy.” Alex flung herself onto him, then pulled her face away, touching her cheek. “You’re all bristly. What’s up with that?”

  “Sorry. I’ve been in the car forever.” Jacob rubbed his salt-and-pepper stubble. “You scared the crap out of us, you know?” he asked, his voice cracking.

  “I’m sorry. I can’t believe you both came up here. Together.” Her eyes were questioning.

  “We love you, Al. We had to make sure you were all right.”

  Meg relaxed, grateful Jacob was attempting a united front for Alex’s benefit.

  “I’m good.” Alex pressed her face into Jacob’s shoulder. “Daddy, I was so scared. I just had to get away from that car . . . I couldn’t deal with it again if someone . . .”

  She went quiet. Turning from him, she reached out to a table of knickknacks, picking up a silver sugar bowl and twirling it in her hands.

  “What was that girl thinking, taking you out in that storm?” Jacob asked.

  “Mia tried to help me, Dad. She took me someplace safe.”

  “A homeless shelter, I heard. Probably full of drug addicts.”

  Meg stared. Had Jacob actually said drug addict?

  “Oh, my God, Dad. Forget it. You don’t even know what you’re talking about. Anyway, I was the one who left Hope Haven.”

  Jacob took a step toward Alex. “You’re right. I’m sorry. Al, I remember you, Cass and me watching that Phibs’ unveiling on TV and all. But what were you planning to do in Happy Corner once you got there?”

  Alex took the tissue Meg offered and blew her nose. “It doesn’t matter now.”

  “I guess not,” he said, studying Alex’s face a moment. “What matters is you’re safe. Now let’s get you home.” He looked around. “You have a suitcase or anything?”

  Carl stepped up and handed Jacob the duffel Meg had packed for Alex barely two nights ago. “The tow truck operator dropped it off this morning,” he said.

  Alex intercepted her bag. “Hold on. I need to tell you guys something.” She paused. “I’ve made a decision. An adult decision that I need to share with you. Both of you.” Alex glanced over her shoulder at Meg. “Don’t freak out, Mom. It’s all good.”

  Warily, Meg moved closer to her daughter.

  “I’ve decided to stay,” Alex said, her eyes shining.

  “Stay here?” Jacob said. “What the . . .” He wheeled and jabbed a finger toward Mia, who had been listening quietly next to Carl. “Did you talk her into this?”

  Mia recoiled. “Me? I have no idea what she’s talking about.”

  “Dad, chill out. I’m not staying with Mia. I want to go to The Birches.”

  Silence filled the room.

  “Oh, Alex.” Meg covered her mouth.

  “That’s ridiculous,” Jacob said. “After everything you’ve been through, you just need some family time. We’ll go home, grab some sleep, head out to Playland. Beat the lines for the Dragon Coaster.”

  “It’s not even open yet. Anyway, I can’t, Dad.”

  Jacob massaged his jaw. “OK, then. We’ll go bowling. I took Jack not too long ago. Disco ball, retro music. When
you bowl, the ball goes right under the stage.” He reached for a handle of her bag.

  “Sounds cool. But no.” Alex widened her stance. “No Dragon Coaster. No bowling. Believe me, I’d love to just go home and forget everything that’s happened. But if I do that, nothing will change. And I want things to change.” She sniffed. “I know I . . . seriously messed up.” She turned to Meg. “I totally hated you and Dad yesterday morning, but I kinda get why you did it.”

  “Alex, I didn’t—” Jacob started.

  “Jacob, please. Let her talk.” Meg preferred to confess her role to Alex during a less confrontational moment.

  “So I made up my mind. I’m doing this. I’m staying.” She tugged lightly on the duffel. “Let go of my bag, Dad.”

  Jacob made no move to loosen his grip.

  “Mom, please,” Alex pleaded over her shoulder. “Tell him. You know.” Leaving one hand on the duffel, she reached into her satchel with the other, retrieving a piece of paper and waving it at Meg. “I know you do.”

  Meg started at the sight of her letter, the message she never expected Alex to read.

  “What’s that?” Jacob’s face was white with fatigue. Despite his transgressions, Meg truly regretted all she’d put him through: the deception, the stressful waits for information, the tension and anger building up mile by mile on the ride up. And now a letter he knew nothing about.

  Of course, Jacob wanted to take his little girl home. It was only natural. But he had to understand there were no winners here—only a child who sorely needed their support.

  “Tell him, Mom. Tell him what you wrote.”

  Meg took the letter from Alex. “I . . . I just told her how much we both loved her.”

  “Read it, Mom.” Alex’s voice was near breaking.

  “OK, honey. If you really want me to.” Head down, Meg cleared her throat a couple of times before she began reading, at a level meant only for Alex and Jacob.