by Mary Carter
Austin laughed. “You’re funny,” he said. A warm flush worked its way through Hope. Michael had never laughed at her jokes. Austin massaged the top of the dog’s gigantic head. “And there’s not much room. We’ll have to throw this guy in the back.”
“Save that decision until after you meet Joy,” Hope said.
* * *
An hour later, after stopping for Hope to throw some clothes in a bag and get coffee and gas, Austin’s truck rattled along the highway with Christmas carols playing on the radio. When he got to the station playing them, Hope started to hum along with it. His hand was halfway to the knob as if he’d been about to change it, when he stopped. It wasn’t lost on Hope that he’d left it on for her. Michael wouldn’t have even noticed that she’d been humming along. Not that it meant anything.
She tried calling Joy and Faith. Neither of them picked up their phone. Were they screening? The thought that they would see her name flash across their screen and not pick up was beyond painful. She’d never done anything to them. She wasn’t bossy like Faith and she didn’t badger anyone for money like Joy. Yet still they ignored her. Well, not this time. This was a family emergency of sorts, wasn’t it? She’d keep trying on the drive. She was going on to Leavenworth whether they came or not. Maybe her grandmother would tell her where she could find her father. Joy and Faith claimed to have no interest in confronting him, but there were some days it was all Hope thought about. She at least wanted to look him in the eyes and say, How could you? Do you know how much we missed and loved you? Are you even sorry? Even a little bit? But most of all she wanted to know that he was still alive, and doing okay. As okay as a man who abandoned his three daughters could be. Would he have left them if they were boys?
The dog was lying half on the seat and half on Hope. God, he was just a big sweetie. She loved running her fingers along his soft, floppy ears. With the heater going in the truck, and the music gently playing, and her close proximity to Austin, it struck her as ironic that here they were, perfect strangers, in a uniquely intimate setting. She thought she could even smell a touch of wood smoke on him. He glanced at her and she quickly averted her gaze, feeling her face heat up yet again. Thank goodness it was dark. She always liked riding in a car at night. The gentle hum of the road, the glow of streetlights, a dog’s body heavy and comforting across her lap, the feel of him breathing in and out, and a gorgeous man at the wheel. Total strangers, yet they felt so familiar, and truth be told she was loving every second of it. That was the really weird part. She tried calling Joy again and once more it went to voice mail.
“Are you and your sisters close?” Austin asked. From the soft tone of his voice she knew he had picked up on the fact that they were anything but.
“We used to be,” she said. When we were children. When we had nothing but one another. She didn’t say any more at first, and Austin didn’t pry. He just nodded. It wasn’t a distracted nod either. She could tell he was really listening to her. It prompted her to say more. “But I keep trying.”
“That’s good,” Austin said.
“Is it?” Hope mused.
“It is. You should never give up on family. Never.”
He sounded passionate about it. She liked that about him. If only her sisters felt the same way. “Do you have brothers or sisters?”
He shook his head. She thought she caught a look of grief pass across his face, but she was only looking at him in profile and in the dim cab it was hard to tell. She decided not to ask any follow-up questions; she was here for her grandmother and answers, not because the neighbor was wildly attractive.
“Are you hungry?” Austin asked. “We could stop for a bite.”
“Starving,” Hope said. “I was supposed to be going out to dinner tonight.”
“And Maui tomorrow,” Austin said.
Hope glanced at him. “I broke up with him,” she said.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
“Are you?” She got the feeling he hadn’t liked Michael, so why let him get away with lying.
“Am I what?”
“Sorry that we broke up?”
Austin’s eyes didn’t leave the road. “Why wouldn’t I be?” His voice took on a deeper tone. Husky was the word that came to mind. He didn’t answer the question, and he wouldn’t look at her. Did that mean anything?
“I didn’t think you liked Michael. That’s all.”
Austin smiled. “Still have to work on my poker face.”
“So I was right.”
“Does it matter?”
“Yes, it kind of does.”
“Why?” Austin asked.
“Why?” The nerve of him. To ask why. Because she wanted to find out if he liked her, that’s why. “Forget it.”
“If you’re upset, then I’m sorry.” This time Austin did glance at her.
God, he is gorgeous. He knew that, right? There was a definite jolt whenever they locked eyes. She looked away. “I’m not upset. At all. In fact I was just waiting until after the holidays to break up with him. Does that make me a bad person?”
“No, it makes you human.”
“He was a nice guy. Just not the guy for me.”
“Glad I could help.”
“I never said you helped.” Austin flashed his green eyes and smile on her. It wasn’t fair, giving a man eyes like that. She turned her attention to the dog.
“What are you going to name him?” Austin asked.
“Our grandmother can name him,” Hope said. She closed her eyes, just for a second, it had been such a long day. When she opened them again, her head was against some kind of soft material wadded up near the window. There was a little drool on it. She jerked up and a sweatshirt fell into her lap. It was his. Somehow Austin had made a makeshift pillow for her using one of his sweatshirts and placed it under her head. While driving or did he pull over to the side of the road? She didn’t want to know. And she wasn’t going to swoon over the fact that he wanted her head to have a soft place to land. Darn him.
“Good nap?”
Hope looked out the window and gasped. They were nearing Seattle; the Space Needle glowed ahead, with the skyline spreading out on either side of it. She glanced at her phone; it was nearly ten at night.
“I can’t believe I slept the whole way.”
“You must have needed it.”
“It’s so late.”
“Do you want to stay at a hotel and then roll up on her in the morning?” Austin asked. “We can pick up some takeaway as well.” Hope glanced at her purse she’d thrown down by her feet. She made enough money to barely pay her bills. That was the new American dream. “Your grandmother factored it into the budget,” Austin added when she didn’t answer.
“She did?”
Austin nodded. “She insisted that this trip couldn’t set any of you back financially.”
“Don’t tell Joy that,” Hope said. Then regretted it. Even if it was true that Joy was always scheming for money, Hope didn’t like complaining about her sisters with a total stranger. But Austin just laughed, a deep sound that filled the small cab with extra warmth. Even the dog looked up and seemed to be smiling.
“Yes, let’s do that,” Hope said. “Food and a good night’s sleep is just what I need.”
“Tell me where you want to pick up food, and where you want to stay, and your wish is my command.” Hope was silent for a while, hoping he’d never know that she was replaying the sound of him saying that to her over and over again. Your wish is my command. She’d never had a man say that to her before and might never again, and so she wanted to savor it.
CHAPTER 7
We Three Kings motel was a low-budget, two-story affair located within walking distance to Pike’s Market but tucked behind a viaduct and set back from the main part of the city, giving the place a bit of an abandoned feel. Even though Austin insisted they had enough money to stay at a decent hotel and eat at a nice restaurant, Hope chose a fried chicken joint and the sketchy motel. The fried chicken because
she had a craving, and the motel because they allowed dogs. An added bonus was the hope that the musty odor of the room might just cancel out the dog’s stink bombs. She was glad somebody had been feeding him something, but this poor guy needed some consistency. One whiff and even the most loyal of dog lovers would be tempted to turn away. She’d tried to foist him on Austin for the night, and to her surprise he’d agreed, but instead of following Austin into his room, the dog trotted into hers and commandeered the bed.
“Well,” Austin said with a grin, “looks like he made his choice. Can’t say I blame him.” He treated her to a long look and a wink before softly shutting his motel room door. Hope had to admit that a part of her wished the old sitcom scenario of there being only one room left at the inn and being forced to share it with Austin Rhodes had crossed her mind. One tiny little bed for the two of them. But, of course, that didn’t happen. This was where motels went to die and there was plenty of room at the inn.
Hope stood out on the communal balcony, taking in the crisp air and scrolling through Facebook on her iPad. Christmas lights strung around a potted tree in the parking lot blinked on and off. Joy was awake and online. She was posting about her new coffee shop. GIVE TO THE CAUSE, one posting said with a link to Joy’s Kickstarter page. Since when was coffee a cause? Hope clicked onto Joy’s Kickstarter page. She had only $57 in donations. Looked like Hope wasn’t the only one who didn’t think coffee was a cause. She navigated back to Joy’s Facebook page. Who was her sister? Would they be friends if they weren’t related? There was a time she knew Faith and Joy like they were a part of herself.
Faith had been a protective older sister, and scrappy to boot. A girly-girl and a tomboy rolled into one. It was like having a little soldier on your side, always armed and ready to do battle. Faith could equally braid Hope’s hair and then defend her when the redheaded boy across the street tried to pull it. She’d scold Norman, the old German shepherd next door who growled whenever Hope tried to sneak a pet, and Faith even rescued Hope from their mother’s moods. All it would take was for Carla to say “I’m getting a headache,” and Faith would whisk Hope off on an outdoor adventure. They’d trip down to the corner store and buy lollipop rings, potato chips, and cans of soda. Arms loaded down with their treasures, they’d head to the beach. If it was raining they’d make forts in their bedroom, using up every bedsheet and blanket in the house. They’d curl up and color, or read Nancy Drew, or make up stories about princesses in castles.
Hope had always felt so safe, so protected around Faith. And when Joy came, she had two little soldiers protecting her. Hope remembered feeling like Joy belonged to her and Faith. They changed diapers, and fed her, and bathed her, and dressed her. They were the first ones up in the middle of the night when Joy would cry. Often their mom would go out on dates and leave them all by themselves. Looking back, it was child abuse, but at the time it felt like freedom. Freedom from Carla’s tears, and headaches, and stale beer and cigarette smoke. Freedom from the barrage of awful things Carla would say about their father and why he wasn’t coming for them. Faith would pretend to be the mother and boss Hope and Joy around, but in a fun way.
She’d decide what was for dinner (always macaroni and cheese), what they would watch on television (Animaniacs, and soap operas, and talk shows—they were glued to Jerry Springer; it was like watching long-lost family members), whether or not they would take a bath (usually not), and what book they would read before bed (Harry Potter). Sometimes they’d have to spend hours calming down a crying Joy, but most of the time they created elaborate, imaginary lives. They were orphans living in Russia, they were triplets going camping, they were runaways hitching a ride on the nearest train.
Many of Hope’s childhood memories were a blur. But she remembered how she felt about her sisters. Loved. Inseparable. The Three Musketeers, their mother used to say with a trace of jealousy. They grew up together; they battled sunburns, and knee scrapes, and Carla, and their missing father. They made up all sorts of reasons he hadn’t come for them—the favorite being that he was a spy. He wanted nothing more than to see his girls, but it would put all of America in danger. But he watched them, and loved them, and protected them from afar. And they continued to protect one another. For a while anyway. For as long as it lasted. Her sisters; herself. There was a sliver of time when Hope never could have imagined it any other way.
And then one day Faith was gone. Fled to California at seventeen. The usual reasons. Pregnant by a summer boy. To Hope the west coast might as well have been Siberia, and losing Faith felt like losing a limb. She kept reaching for her, thinking she was by her side, only to discover over and over, more and more shocked each time, that Faith was really gone. All Hope was left with was long-distance phone calls that always ended too soon. It was as if a giant undertow had stolen her sister and whisked her out to sea.
Hope stuck around for Joy, though. Tried to fill Faith’s shoes. But Joy was always the wild one. The older she grew, the more she resisted Hope’s efforts to mother her. She was probably more like Carla than any of them. The second she turned eighteen, Joy ran off to Seattle without so much as a thank you. And even though they were basically estranged, Hope couldn’t stomach the thought of being on the opposite coast from her sisters, so she soon followed to Portland. They were circling one another’s orbits without getting too close. They saw one another every couple of years. Not nearly enough for Hope. Maybe this Christmas was the excuse they needed to really commit to one another again.
Hope brought her attention back to Joy’s Facebook page. This is how she knew her sisters now. From social media.
Every other picture was coffee, or foam, or Joy and a handsome young black man gazing at coffee or foam. This must be her new boyfriend. Hope hadn’t heard about him first-hand, of course, but Faith had mentioned him. His name was Harrison, they’d met on some dock looking at sailboats. Hope didn’t even know Joy liked sailboats, let alone went looking at them on random docks. Faith said the only reason Joy talked to her more was that she was always angling for money. Faith was extremely well-off; turned out getting pregnant by Stephen hadn’t been the worst thing that could have happened. He was wealthy, and his parents even made sure Faith finished high school and went to college. They now had a beautiful home in San Francisco, two kids, and a two-car garage. Hope had only been there a handful of times—mostly because of Faith’s busy schedule.
It was too late to call Faith, but Hope left a message on Joy’s Facebook Feed. I’m in the Emerald City, sis. Call my cell! A few seconds later Joy logged off of Facebook. Hope stared at her cell and waited. And waited. Why that little scoundrel. When had Joy stopped loving her? Hope had sensed a year or so back that she’d done something to tick Joy off, but she seriously didn’t know what it was. She asked Faith over and over, but Faith insisted she didn’t know either. “Joy is Joy,” Faith said. “Whatever it is she’ll get over it. You’re lucky she’s not calling, all she does is ask for money.”
For the heck of it Hope checked her mother’s page. Carla Garland. There she was, smiling, her naturally dark hair colored the lightest shade of blond Hope had ever seen on her, and the latest post read: Heading for Cuba for Christmas with my sweetie!! Thanks, Obama!! The picture was of her mother and a smiling Cuban-American man standing on a sailboat, champagne glasses raised. Hope’s eyes welled with tears. When would she stop crying over the mother she wished she had? People needed to be themselves, didn’t they? Her mother had raised three girls practically on her own, and despite their father being the love of her life, Carla was not a woman who could be alone. She’d had a string of men since Thomas, but not one of them had ever stuck. Hope suspected Carla had never stopped waiting for Thomas to come back to her. In a sense, each of them was a little bit stuck in the past, still waiting. Not that any of them would ever admit it.
Hope closed the cover on her iPad, hugged it to her chest, and leaned into the rail. Her eyes fell on another set of blinking Christmas lights surrounding the WE T
HREE KINGS motel sign. The g was missing, making it WE THREE KIN S motel. Another message had been added below: WE THREE KINGS WELCOME YOU. At least someone welcomed her.
Hope turned and headed back for her room. Austin’s curtains were drawn, but she could see he had a light on. Did he have a wife or girlfriend? She didn’t get that feeling, but then again he’d said very little about himself.
The flatulent bloodhound was taking up more than half of the bed. Hope crawled in but instead of pushing his snoring body out of the way, she simply formed herself around him. She loved the sound of dogs sleeping. She made one more attempt to call Joy, and once again got her voice mail. She hung up. Tomorrow morning she would park herself outside of Joy’s apartment and ambush her.
* * *
Hope woke to the sound of her cell phone blasting out “Jingle Bells.” She pawed the nightstand until she made contact with it, then glanced at the screen. Faith. Who else would call before seven a.m.?
“I was asleep,” Hope said.
“Do you want to FaceTime?”
“God, no.”
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t even have a face yet.” Hope covered her eyes with her hand. Even the dog was still sleeping.
“I’m returning your call.”
“From yesterday.”
“I just got back from a run.” Faith always had to workout-drop. It was worse than name-dropping. Oh, I just got back from the gym. Oh, I just got back from Pilates. Oh, I just got back from lifting weights. Oh, I just ran a marathon and bought a kale farm.
Hope stretched out on the bed, opened one eye, and glanced at the empty box of fried chicken by the bed. The dog was still snoring on the floor beside her. His giant paws were covering his head as if he, too, had been rudely awoken by Faith. “Me too.”
“You too, what?”
“I went for a run this morning.” Hope had woken up in the middle of the night to run to the bathroom. She was going to use it.
“You went for a run?”
