A Long Way Home

by Becky Doughty

  Turning, he lifted an eyebrow at me. He was still angry, but his eyes reflected his growing arousal.

  “And you have every right to be angry, Marek,” I rushed to assure him. “But I was desperate and lonely for you. I knew you were with Cassandra, and I wanted you back. I saw an opportunity, and I took it. I was willing to do anything to get you back, even if it meant making you angry first.” I was afraid I was going to be sick right there in the car. I needed some air. As though it was detached from my body, my hand moved higher up Marek’s leg. I could feel his coarse leg hair through the thin linen of his Rastafari pants.

  I breathed in through my nose and closed my eyes, dredging up a picture of the night sky behind my eyelids and my star at the center of Orion’s Belt. The big star to the left of mine blinked brightly, and I wondered if Jordan was thinking of me. I heard a giggle that sounded like Killian’s bounce off the smaller star to the right. My precious baby boy.

  “Let me go back to the hospital, Marek. I’ll stay long enough to make sure Killian is settled and my mom is home—they’re probably going to release her Thursday or Friday—and then I’ll come home to you. I promise.” I spoke soft and slow, almost a purr. “I’ll be there for the last show—to dance the Lover’s Dance with you again.”

  He released a low rumble of pleasure, and I swallowed the bile that rose in my throat.

  “You can come back and get me as soon as she’s home, I promise. Friday at the latest. Or I’ll take the bus like I did before. But I’ll be there. Just let me stay here a few more days, okay?” I pictured the leaves of my tree fluttering above me, the sound of the wind whispering my name, beckoning me to lie back and float away in my own fairy boat.

  Marek’s eyes were half-closed, his lips parted. His breathing louder.

  “I’ll do anything,” I whispered, a rush of memory thrusting through me like a battering ram, recalling all the times I’d bargained with Marek using those three words.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  I wasn’t sure how I managed to stay upright as I made my way back through the main entrance of the hospital, across the foyer, even making a point to smile and wave at the woman manning the information desk. I had parted my hair low on one side, sweeping it across the lump on my forehead, and even though my legs felt like limp noodles beneath me, somehow I made it into the elevator without any curious looks from people passing me.

  Thankfully, the elevator was empty, and I sagged into one corner, sliding down the wall to a squatting position and covering my face with my hands. I could not cry, not now. The bump on my head was significant enough that it would explain any traces of earlier tears, but I had no reason to still be crying now. At least none that I could give my family.

  I headed straight to the restroom as soon as I got off the elevator, wishing for a lock on the heavy door. I wanted desperately to be alone as I washed away what little I could of my humiliation and shame. Dampening several paper towels, I took them into one of the stalls with me. Peeling off the cardigan, I hung it on a hook on the door and turned my back to it, almost as though it might share my dirty secrets with my dad if I let it watch.

  There was a large mirror hanging on the wall beside the sink, and before I headed back out into the hall, I gave myself a good once-over. Combing my fingers through my hair one more time, all the while wishing for a brush, I straightened my shoulders and took deep breath. “You’ll do, Savannah Clark. You’ll do,” I muttered.

  I stopped at the nurse station first and swept back my hair just enough to reveal the bump on my head. Fortunately, it had shrunk a little, but it still looked ugly. I tried not to release a slightly hysterical laugh as I told the man behind the counter what happened; it was so obscenely close to the truth. “I just banged my head getting in my car. I was in a big hurry and wasn’t paying attention. Do you think I could beg some ice from you?” The words came out in a rush, but I needn’t have worried. The guy stared up at me, his eyes registering shock and concern.

  “Good grief, woman. That’s some bump there.” He leapt up and hurried around the counter to get a closer look. “Do you need to see a doctor? You look a little pale. Did you pass out?” He pulled a flashlight from his scrubs pocket and clicked it on, prepared to check my pupils.

  “No, no. I’m fine. I’m just frustrated at my own clumsiness.”

  “Let me take a look.” He lifted the light and put a hand under my chin.

  I didn’t want to make any more of a scene than I already was, so I let him shine the beam of light into my eyes once, twice, and then again for good measure. “I’m fine, really. I just need some ice.”

  “Your pupils are dilating nicely. Do you have a headache? Ringing in your ears? How’s your balance?” He still didn’t look convinced.

  “I really do think I’m okay. But if it would make you feel better, I’m here visiting my mom, Beatrice Clark, in Room 412. I’ll be here for several more hours. If anything changes, I’m probably in the best place possible to get help, right?”

  The nurse chuckled and nodded, slipping his penlight back into his pocket. “Sounds like a plan. You go see your mom—don’t scare her now—and I’ll bring you some ice to the room.”

  “Thanks… Chris,” I said, reading the name off his badge.

  My mother was asleep when I entered the room, my hair drawn across my forehead again so I could warn them first. My father jumped up, his face clouded with concern and relief. “Oh thank goodness! I’ve been worried sick about you.” His eyes darted to the clock on the wall above the door. “You’ve been gone over an hour, Savannah. Are you all right?”

  I hurried to the chair on the opposite side of the bed, not wanting him to come too close. Even though I’d freshened up, I couldn’t seem to rid my own nostrils of the smell of shame and humiliation that lingered in the air around me. I was sure if Dad tried to hug me, he’d smell it, too.

  “Actually, I’m fine,” I whispered, not wanting to wake Mom up. “At least, I am now.” I rolled my eyes in exaggerated embarrassment. “Sorry I took so long, Daddy. I went down to the gift shop while I was waiting for Stella to take pictures and send them. I got distracted by all the pretty things and lost track of time. Then I stopped by the bathroom on my way back up, but by then, I was in a hurry, knowing you’d be worried. And you know me. When I get into one of my mad rushes, I get stupid and clumsy.” I swept my hair back and tipped my head so he could see the bump. “I banged my forehead on the door and thought I was going to pass out.” It was amazing how much of my story could be misconstrued as truth. “I waited a while to make sure I was okay, and now here I am.”

  “Savannah!” Dad’s voice rose in concern. “You should have a doctor look at that.”

  “No, it’s all good. I stopped at the triage out there and a nurse named Chris already checked me out. He should be here any minute with some ice.”

  At that moment, the door swung open and Chris slipped into the room, nodding at Dad first, and then crossing over to crouch beside my chair. “How ya doing?” he asked as he pressed the bag of ice to my forehead.

  “Good. I’m fine,” I assured him again.

  He turned and smiled at my father. “You’re Dad, right?” Dad nodded, and Chris continued. “If she starts to feel lightheaded or nauseated, or can’t remember anyone’s names, you press that ‘call’ button, okay?”

  “Yes. Thank you. I’ll be watching her.” Great. Poor Dad now had two patients to tend.

  I pulled the phone from my bra while Dad was talking to the nurse. When he returned to his seat, I handed him the phone. “She went on a photography spree. There are more pictures in there than I can count.” I smiled at him, hoping he’d focus on the images of his grandson and not on me.

  “Savannah?” Mom whispered my name, even though she didn’t open her eyes. “Are you sure you’re all right, sweetie?”

  I patted her hand. “I’ve got pictures,” I declared, making my voice as cheerful as possible. It sounded false, even to my own ears.


  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  I was quiet in the car and Tish glanced over at me several times, not saying anything. I was too exhausted to even worry about what she might be thinking.

  “You know, when I first met Sebastian, he was a jerk to me.”

  I smiled at her and nodded. “Jordan told me he was really worried about you getting into a relationship with him.”

  “Really? When did he tell you that?”

  I think I felt the blood leave my face right before it all rushed back in, making my cheeks burn and my forehead throb.

  “You two have been in contact all this time, haven’t you?” She didn’t seem upset by the idea. It was just a statement of awareness.

  I almost lied, but then I figured it no longer mattered anymore. I’d made such a mess of things already and I’d be gone soon, anyway. Marek had reminded me that he would be keeping tabs on the folks on Maple Avenue and me. “It’s either you or Killian, Savah. Either you come to me, or I come for him. That’s the deal.”

  “Yes. I’ve kept in contact with him.”

  “Crazy,” she muttered, pretty much to herself. “So many things make sense now.” We pulled into the parking lot at the local Wal-Mart where I could get decent diapers at the best price. “You know, I think that’s why he moved back home after he graduated instead of taking one of the job offers he had in L.A. I could never figure it out, but it totally stands to reason. Was he always trying to get you to come home?”

  I nodded. “Yeah, but he didn’t really know what he was asking of me.” Pushing my door open, I slid out into the warm sun. I still wore Dad’s cardigan; I couldn’t seem to get warm.

  Tish climbed out on her side and came around the back of the car to walk beside me. “I take it he didn’t know about Killer?”

  “No one knew about Killian.”

  “Why not? Is he the reason you left? Is he Jordan’s?”

  “What?” I was taken aback by her question and stopped in my tracks. “No! No, no, no. Jordan would never—we never—he was very respectful—” I stuttered to a halt and crossed my arms tightly around my middle. “No, Killian isn’t Jordan’s. I—I would have stayed if he was.” I took a few more steps and stopped again, a new thought leaving me aghast. “Is that what everyone thinks?”

  Tish kept pace with my starting and stopping. “Not that I’m aware. I just wanted to make sure.” She shoved her hands in the back pockets of her skinny jeans as she walked. “Savannah, I love my brother very much. I love all my brothers very much, but Jordan especially, probably because we’re the closest in age and have spent the most time together. We share a lot of the same friends, even.” She paused for a few moments, and then said, “He changed when you disappeared.” She shook her head, her straight black hair shimmering in the sunlight with her movement. “I thought something had happened at school. I didn’t pick his brain—he seemed so busted up—but I figured he’d talk about it when he was ready.”

  What had I done to all these people I’d left behind? Once again, I was faced with the reality that I’d protected no one—not my parents, not the man I loved, not the neighborhood or the church, and certainly not myself and Killian. Everywhere I turned, I saw evidence of suffering caused by me. “He couldn’t talk about it. I made him promise not to. I made a deal with him that I’d stay connected with him as long as he didn’t give me away.”

  I took a few more steps before I realized that Tish had stopped behind me. I turned to look at her, my brow furrowed.

  “You know what?” The look on her face was passive, settled, but her words cut with the sharpened edge of truth. “You are one of the most selfish people I’ve ever met.” She held my gaze as I recovered my breath, and then started walking again. “My brother is in love with you. Foolish man that he is, he’s in so deep that he can’t see the forest for the trees with you. I can’t believe I didn’t catch on all this time, but there it is.” She passed me and turned to call over her shoulder. “You coming? We’ve got diapers to buy for that darling kid of yours.”

  She waited until I caught up with her before she started talking again.

  “Here’s the deal, Savannah Clark. I’m not interested in stringing you up by the thumbs or anything, but I have a few things I need to get off my chest. So we can talk in the car when we finish shopping, or we can talk when we get home, or we can talk while you’re shopping if you’d prefer. Up to you. But since I have you as my captive audience, you’re pretty much stuck listening to what I have to say.”

  I nodded—I was becoming acutely aware of how often I did that now that Jordan pointed it out—and pushed through the glass doors into the chilly interior of the store. “Diapers first,” I said. “We can talk in the car.”

  I had a good idea of what she was going to ‘get off her chest’ if her contribution to the conversation the other night was any indication, but I wasn’t sure how I was going to respond to her accusations. I was still trying to figure out what I would say to Jordan tonight—not only had I not talked to my parents about Marek, I hadn’t called him this afternoon, either. The ice had done wonders to my forehead, and I’d found a clip in my bag so I could fasten my hair in place to cover the bruising. Tomorrow, it might be more obvious, but it was high enough on my head I didn’t think it would cause a black eye. I might be able to hide it for the rest of the time I was here.

  We shopped quickly, mainly because I could only afford the diapers and Tish was just perusing the dollar bins while she waited for me. Within minutes, we were heading back out to her car. Oddly enough, I was doing okay. I still didn’t know what I was going to say, but it had dawned on me that it just didn’t matter. I’d be gone from their lives in a few days, and Killian would have a normal life. Without me. That thought sucker-punched me, and I stumbled a little, but I righted myself before Tish noticed.

  In the car again, she waited until we were out of the busy parking lot before she spoke. “First things first. Are you here to stay?”

  I didn’t even hesitate. “No.”

  She hesitated, clearly not expecting that answer, or at least my ready and certain response. “Okay. Does Jordan know you plan to leave again?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Are you going back to Marek?”

  “Yes.” I held the huge box of diapers on my lap. One corner of the cardboard box kept jabbing me in the hipbone. I’d gotten the bulk size that would last about two weeks, even though it took almost every penny I had.

  “And you think we’re going to stand by and let you take Killian back to that monster?” Her voice rose in pitch, but she kept a tight lid on it.

  “No. I’m leaving him here with my parents.”

  “Do they know that? Your mom won’t even be able to take care of herself for weeks, maybe months, you know.”

  “That’s really none of your business.” And in the end, it wasn’t. I’d have to work the details out with my dad, the poor man, but I’d seen the way he looked at Killian, how much he loved him already. And I knew there were many, many people in his church who would step up to help them out after I was gone. Mom didn’t need me. Dad didn’t need me. And I had to accept the fact that because he now had my parents in his life, Killian didn’t need me nearly as much as I needed him.

  “I see.” She pulled up to a four-way stop and turned to me. “Then stay away from my brother.”

  “That’s the plan.”

  “Good. Glad we got that straight.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  We arrived at the Ransome home after what seemed like an hour of tense silence, but it was probably not more than ten minutes. When I came through the door, Gina was sprawled on one of the sofas, fast asleep, while the boys were industriously building tall towers of blocks in the middle of the living room floor. Killian looked up and saw me, and his face broke into a huge smile.

  “Mama!” he cried, pushing to his feet and charging across the room in his wibble-wobble run to wrap his arms around my legs. I scooped him up and hugged him tightly,
already desperately missing the feel of him, the smell of him, and his very presence in my life.

  Tish greeted her mother as though nothing was amiss, but she didn’t stick around. “I have an assignment due tomorrow, so I’ll be up in my room studying if you need me,” she called over her shoulder as she started for the stairs.

  “Wait, honey. Please.” Stella held out a hand toward Tish. “I—I have a huge favor to ask of you. Do you think you could sit down here and work? Keep an eye on the kids for a bit?” Without waiting for Tish’s answer, she turned back to me with an unreadable expression. “I’m sorry, Savannah. I hope you don’t mind my doing this, but I need to speak with you. In private.”

  I shot a glance over at Tish, who had paused with one foot on the bottom step. Her face, too, was difficult to read. It struck me how much these two women looked alike. Great. Take down number two from another perfect Ransome woman. I wanted to run, but I’d already made plans to hang out here the rest of the afternoon, and then join the family for dinner. I squeezed Killian a little too tightly, and he pushed away.

  “Mama, ow! Too tight!” He squirmed until I set him down, and he scampered back to his new little friend.

  Stella watched him go, a small frown between her brows, and then turned to me. The frown deepened. “I know I’m kind of putting you on the spot, Savannah, but it’s important.” She crossed over to me, and before I could guess her intent, she lifted a hand to sweep back my hair from my face. Holding Killian had knocked my strategically placed clip loose, and the observant Mrs. Ransome was on top of her game. I heard Tish’s intake of breath, but I refused to look at her. Let her think what she liked. Actually, I wanted her to think exactly the way she’d been thinking when we pulled up out front. Let her warn Jordan about me; let her tell him my plans. Then maybe I wouldn’t have to do it. The rubber soles of Tish’s Converse slapped lightly on the wood floor as she approached. I pulled away from Stella’s hand so my hair fell back in place. I didn’t need Tish in my face right now.