by Brea Viragh
“I’m not sure I can drive,” Jackie answered, shaking from head to toe.
“I’ll have that distinctive pleasure. Fenton is right. If we split up we can cover more ground and we’re more likely to find her.”
I didn’t want to be out after dark. If we couldn’t locate Kaylen before the sun set, then we were going to have a bigger problem on our hands.
“I’ll call the rest of the guys in the crew and see if they can take an hour and help us look. Their eyes aren’t the best but every extra person helps.” He dragged a cell phone from his pocket and punched in a number.
“There.” I turned Jackie to face me. “We’re going to find her.”
“What if she got picked up by a stranger? People are stealing kids nowadays. Kaylen is a beautiful girl.”
I gave her a shake. “I don’t want to hear you talk like that. Okay? Nothing is going to happen to her.” I had to believe it. Had to force my mind and my heart to believe we were going to find her.
“How can you be so calm?” Jackie sobbed.
Is this what my calm looked like? “I’m holding it together the best I can. Now give me the keys to your car and we can get started.”
I shot Fenton a stare over the hood of the car, watching him finish up his conversation and give me a curt nod. The tension in my chest released by a fraction.
“Come on,” I told my sister. I helped buckle her in when her fingers refused to work, then got myself situated. Took a deep breath before throwing the key on her little Ford.
This was better, a distant part of me thought. This was me back in the driver’s seat, back in control when I’d felt like, for the past few weeks, my control was gone. This was me with a purpose to help my family. Which was what I needed to do. No more focusing on bullshit.
God, I hoped we found Kaylen soon.
We took to the roads near the high school with me sparing tiny looks at Jackie. She was chewing her nails and staring out the window like her life depended on her being observant. It did, in a way. Suddenly, the fear of losing her too had my heart constricting.
“I know you are going to hate me for this,” I began with a mutter, “and I hate me a little too. I need to make sure you’re going to come out of this on the other side and not…not reach for something to help you feel better.”
“Goddammit, Shari, my daughter is missing and you want to talk about my addiction? I’ve been sober for a decade. Give it a rest,” she snapped.
It was exactly these types of situations, where one is pushed outside of their normal limits, that brought people to their knees and bottles to lips.
“I’m concerned,” I told her in an equally snippy voice.
“You aren’t the one who lost a child.”
An aching loneliness filled my chest until my fingers turned numb. After a particularly difficult negotiation in my head, I decided. Retaliation wasn’t the answer. It wasn’t going to make either one of us feel better. Surely, in her despair, Jackie didn’t mean it.
“She’s my family, too, and I love her the same way you do.”
“I’m sorry.” The distress in her voice almost pushed me over the edge. “I really am sorry. You’re right. I do want a drink.” Jackie knocked her fist into her forehead, eyes closing. “I want one so bad I can taste it. I’m seconds away from making you stop at a liquor store and I hate myself for it.”
I wanted to pull the car over and draw her into a hug. Knowing it would keep us off track, I forced my eyes on the road.
Just keep driving.
I’d figured my life couldn’t get any crazier than it already felt. Apparently, I was wrong.
Glancing over again, I recognized the restraint Jackie kept in place, closing her fist over the leash of the monster and drawing it back.
I wanted to tell her we were in this together. How much I appreciated her strength and how much I could learn from her.
My throat tightened to push out the words, but I held on to them. She already knew.
The cell phone on my lap began to buzz and a bone-chilling cold settled on my shoulders.
I grabbed it and pressed the button, nearly dropping the phone between the seats. “What? Hello?”
Fenton’s smooth, deep tones came over the speaker loud and clear. “You need to turn around and head back toward the house.”
“Why?”
“Bud found Kaylen.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
My heart pounded to a stop and every bit of blood in my head drained away. I wasn’t sure where it went, but I noticed the loss. My fingers gave up the good fight and lost their grip on the cell. It dropped between the seats, as predicted, and I swiveled the car around at the closest turn. Uncaring when the tires screeched.
Jackie gripped the handle above the door and turned to me. “What’s happening? Are you trying to give me a heart attack?”
“Sure I was. You weren’t paying attention. Bud found her. They’re at the house.”
My sister broke down immediately, and I didn’t blame her. The forty-five minutes we’d been in the car felt like they’d gone by in a blink. At once we were on track again.
“Hang in there,” I told her. “They’re back at the house as we speak. Fenton called me.”
“If I were in my right mind—” Jackie broke off on a hiccup. “I-I would tell you what I really think of that man.”
I blew out a sigh, my cheeks rounding. “Don’t. Let’s focus on Kaylen. Thank god they’re bringing her home.” My pulse pounded in my ears.
“Did he say where she was?”
“No. But we are going to find out.”
I took the turns way too fast, close to turning the little car over on two wheels like a professional racecar driver on a professional course. Sadly, I was not, and we were on skinny country roads.
My teeth ground together, jaw squeezed tight, and I focused on getting us there in one piece when worry begged me to press down on the gas. There were times when I had to physically keep my foot in one position.
Jackie’s lips had thinned to a straight line. We pulled into the driveway and her glazed eyes finally connected with mine.
“I can’t look. Is she really there? Please tell me.”
I pulled in next to a scarred pickup and glanced around. Breathed a sigh of relief at the familiar heads waiting on the front stoop. “Yes, she is.”
Jackie delighted in the statement, racing from the car before I had a chance to turn it off. I was a different story. I was frozen in place. My muscles taught and cramped from trying to keep my shoulders back and my spine straight.
Now that we’d found Kaylen, I felt lost. Like we’d traded positions.
A few more minutes and I got out of the car, palming the keys, walking toward the group of people gathered by the front door. A condemned woman walking toward a guillotine.
The bile in my stomach turned when I saw her.
“What did you do?” Jackie held Kaylen at arm’s length and inspected every inch of visible skin. My sister’s face was pale, the bags under her eyes standing out visibly, and her eyes rolling around unable to connect to anything or anyone. “Kaylen?”
“I’m sorry.”
“You’re sorry? Are you kidding me?”
I stood back and waited for my turn, frantic, hands tugging at the bottom of my shirt for something to hold on to. Much to my surprise, Fenton and Bud came around to either side of me and both took my hands without asking.
Bud’s was warm, steady, reassuring. Fenton’s was a little harder for me to qualify. His palms slightly sweaty and his fingers not quite firm. I gripped them both. I couldn’t let go. Not now.
“She was hanging out down the road, a little turn off some of the high school kids use on the weekends to get drunk. No one else was there,” Bud supplied with his usual gruffness. “No wonder you didn’t see her. The turnoff gets lost in the weeds and the clearing isn’t visible for another half mile.”
“How did you know?” The question was dry and stuck in my throat. I
swallowed convulsively, staring at my sister and her daughter. Wrapped up in an embrace no one would dare break.
“Got a grandson. He goes there sometimes. My son got nosy and followed once. It pays to know where the kids like to go.” Bud sucked on his teeth. “Be prepared.”
I opened my arms and hugged the man, drawing him down to me and squeezing with all my might. “Thank you so much.” I tilted my head back to stare at him. “I really mean it. You are a lifesaver.”
Bud was clearly uncomfortable with the attention turned on him. He patted me awkwardly on the back before stepping away. His bushy eyebrows rose and disappeared into his hat. “No big deal, honey. I’m happy to help.”
I knew how much it had cost Fenton to draw the boys away from the job site. I watched as another pickup holding Harv and Ray saddled up the driveway. Bud waved them off and they switched directions in an about-face.
“Time to get back to work. You folks take care.” Bud touched the top of his baseball cap, gave my shoulder one last squeeze, and made his way toward his own truck. Leaving Fenton and I standing there watching Jackie. Watching a red-faced Kaylen try to hold in her embarrassment.
Part of me wanted to strangle the girl for the upset. I forced myself to focus on the facts. She was fine. She was home. Everything would right itself in time.
“Go talk to her,” Fenton said softly. It drew my attention to him.
“I don’t know what to say that won’t come out as screaming.”
“You’ll manage.”
“What if I don’t?” I questioned. “What if I go over there and all my own crap comes out and I end up making things way worse.”
He pushed me forward, keeping his touch feather light. “You’ll manage,” he repeated.
I knew he was leaving to go back to work. And decided to keep my focus forward when I wanted to look over my shoulder to watch him.
“I already yelled,” Jackie began, wiping underneath her nose with the back of her hand.
It was an odd parody of the other night, one where I’d told her the same thing, a warning before the other lost their cool.
Kaylen stared at me. Her eyes were wide and red from crying. Her cheeks were flushed and there were twigs in her hair. I wondered why.
A million words bubbled up and caught in that same dry spot. It wasn’t for lack of anything to say that I kept quiet.
I drew her out of her mother’s arms and into mine, wrapping her up in me until her head pillowed on my chest.
In those frantic moments searching for Kaylen, I realized here was where my heart belonged. I didn’t want to be without Fenton, true, but I would survive regardless. I would go to him when I was ready, talk to him, and try my best to understand whatever position he held. Wherever he went in this world and whatever he did, he would have my love.
Right now, with my crying niece begging us to forgive her, telling us she didn’t know what she was thinking and wouldn’t do it again I knew.
Whatever happened, I would be fine. My center was still, and I’d found my rock, in my family.
**
I slinked through the grocery store unconsciously, picking items off the shelf at random and tossing them into the cart. It was mindless. The kind of chore you do because you have to, not because you take any real joy in it. At least it was better than sitting at home. My fridge was empty and it was my turn to host book club tomorrow. I knew the girls were going to expect something fabulous. Not Essie-level fabulous, but the package of stale crackers wasn’t going to cut it. Thus, finding myself in the store in my pajama shorts.
It was too damn hot outside to get dressed up. I wouldn’t have put on real pants for all the money in the world.
“Hmm, ice cream or gelato?” I contemplated the freezer section, holding the door open and letting the chill cool my blood. “Which one will make me feel less guilty for indulging?”
Neither, but I was going for it anyway.
I needed a little indulgence, and thought I plainly deserved one after the weeks—the months, really—of hell I’d endured.
If I could come up with a decent enough excuse, I would have canceled my obligation to the book club altogether. It was Essie’s half-cocked idea and a way for the girls in the community to get together and chat without any testosterone around. Nothing worse than a circle of woman all hooting and clucking over a paperback. Especially when there wasn’t a half-naked man on the cover. A few months ago, I’d let Essie talk me into it. She’d said I needed to get out more. I worked nonstop, no time for play.
I grabbed a pint at random from the shelf. It was time to bite the bullet. Book club, here I come.
Essie made me promise I would attend, thinking it was a good distraction to keep my mind occupied and away from less savory avenues. I wondered how she came to that conclusion after picking out a book startlingly similar to 50 Shades. When I asked, she smiled a secret little smile and told me a time and place.
Who was I to refuse her? She rarely asked for anything in return. If going to book club, or hosting it, would make her happy, then maybe it was time for me to focus on someone other than myself.
A noise from the back of the store caught my attention. Not uncommon in a food store, I knew, but this was strange. Out of place. A low keening wail that sounded like an animal with an injured paw. Angling the cart, I turned the corner toward the rear end of the dairy section and the muffled weeping coming from below the row of eggs.
“Hello?”
I stopped when the noise came again. A wet-sounding cry. Someone was trying to hold in their emotions and doing a piss poor job.
“Halloo?” I asked again. “Anyone home? Or is the milk lamenting its expiration date?”
Another sob came again, this time louder. More masculine. It was heartbreaking. Then I noticed the man lying on the floor with his head curled in toward his torso and his legs sticking out in the aisleway.
It wasn’t something one saw every day. It was probably too much to ask for this to be the refrigerator repairman.
I pushed the cart aside and crouched down. “Yo, dude. Did you break your leg? You’re sitting on the floor.”
“No…no.” His voice came clearer this time. “I didn’t…no.”
“Let me see if I can find someone to help you.”
He was lodged half underneath the cooler. Which would have been strange if I’d stopped to really think about it. There was a pause. A shuffle as the fellow extricated himself from the godawful uncomfortable position. A worn t-shirt was bunched in his hand.
He was older than me. In his early forties if I had to hazard a guess, wearing a flannel shirt stained with…what? The million- dollar question. Old jeans were torn at the knees and dark circles under his eyes made the man look like he hadn’t slept in a good week. Dark roots showed the original color of his hair beneath the cheap bleach job. He was unshaven, the hair on his neck and chin grown to several unkempt inches.
“I was tired.” His voice was hoarse, his eyes glazed over and hopeless. “I…wanted to lay down. I couldn’t walk anymore.”
An odd mix of curiosity, compassion, and fear sliced into my heart. “In the freezer section. Yeah, that’s where I would pick too.” I held out a hand to help him up before I thought better of it. Where the hell was everyone else in this place? And was it my imagination, or were the lights dim? Flickering?
I would have to have a talk with Essie. Her father owned the store. It would do better for business for him to invest in a few more rows of lights.
The man was jittery. His hands shaking, his darting around in circles without landing. Oooh boy. Something was definitely wrong.
“How can I help you?” I withdrew my hand. A deep breath inflated my lungs. “Let me call one of the guys in the front.”
“I’m fine. I’m fine.” The man insisted. He shook his head before inhaling with a whoosh, wiping the bruised-looking skin on his face with trembling hands. His exhale was released with an open mouth.
That’s when the sme
ll caught me. Rotten. The revelation hit and I realized I’d seen the reaction before on drunks down at The Tooth. Drunks who went more than a day without their fix. Drunks and druggies in the middle of a withdrawal.
I’d seen it with my sister a thousand times before when she’d used alcohol to bury her anxiety.
The man stood before nearly tumbling into a yogurt display. He caught himself on the freezer front as I lunged forward to catch him. Yeah, right. I took a few steps forward after rushing to hold him up, his weight too much for me. He dropped back to the floor like a two-hundred-some odd sack of potatoes before crumbling.
“I’m going to go get someone to help,” I said in a rush, on my knees beside him. “Someone with a lot more upper body strength.” And preferably someone who didn’t mind the smell of a dude who didn’t appear to have showered in the last week. He took hold of my foot before I could run, his fingers locked around my sandal. “Okay, maybe not,” I said on a shaky breath.
It took everything inside of me to get the fellow to his knees, then all the way up. He was a good head taller than me and stinking of stale booze and an acrid sweetness. Sweat and grime.
“Hello!” I called out, stumbling along with the guy slash permanent smelly leech in tow. “Can anyone hear me?”
A young girl came around the corner with the grocery store’s logo emblazoned on her shirt. “Oh, Liam.” Her tone was resigned. “Keep him in the back, please. I’ll get the phone.”
“What am I, his keeper?” I watched the girl walk away. The man, Liam, hiccupped and locked his knees. Nearly took me down with him when he lost his balance. “Easy there, big boy. You’ve got to hold on a little longer until we get help for you. There you go”
The girl came back with a phone in hand, her red-painted fingernails tapping out a number. “His brother will be here in a second to pick him up. Liam, you know you’re not supposed to sleep off a bender here. How many times do we have to tell you?”
“He’s going to be okay.” It was more of a statement than a question. “Right?”
