Cold Waters (Normal, Alabama Book 1)

by Debbie Herbert

  “Yeah, Doctor Care Less.”

  Unaccustomed laughter bubbled from me.

  He held out a hand. “I’m Seth.”

  I took his hand, felt the warmth of real human contact for the first time in ages. My stomach lurched and cartwheeled in a way it hadn’t since . . . I tamped down the memory and spoke. “Violet,” I answered, hoping my body’s waves of warmth didn’t scorch him.

  “Violet,” he murmured, still holding my hand. “That’s a pretty name. It fits you.”

  He released me, and I nervously stuffed both hands in my jeans pockets, feeling awkward and shy. What did I know of guys? I’d never even been on a date.

  Seth cocked his head toward the door at the far end of the back hallway. “I was going for a walk. Want to join me?”

  You betcha. I followed behind him, grinning. The year stretch at Cottonwood had just gotten a lot more tolerable.

  A nurse sat at an old battered desk at the end of the hallway, stationed like a prison guard at the exit door for the yard. But she let us through, and I closed my eyes, gulping large breaths of fresh air. The fall sky was pewter and the air pregnant with rain. I didn’t care. Anything was better than being stuck inside, where ugly concrete seemingly rose from the cold floors to form walls and ceilings. My body tensed, straining to hear the distant rustle of birds and animals.

  “This place isn’t all bad, you know.”

  My eyes popped open. I’d forgotten Seth. “Don’t tell me you like it here.”

  “Like isn’t the term I’d use.” He shrugged, and my gaze caught the vulnerable slope of his hunched shoulders as he zipped up his sweatshirt jacket. “After you get used to the routine, to the rules, it’s . . . peaceful.”

  Seth colored slightly as I gaped at him in surprise. We began walking the perimeter of the flat expanse of lawn encased on all three sides of the building by a thick tree line of pine and cypress, a living fence between the normal and the crazy, the free and the incarcerated.

  But of course, it wasn’t as simple as that. Life couldn’t be so easily defined and categorized.

  “Peaceful, huh?” I prodded. “In what way?”

  “Everything’s decided for you. When to get up and eat, what to do at what time of the day.”

  I tried to see it his way. What I saw as a lack of freedom Seth viewed as freeing his mind from a myriad of decisions.

  “Go on.”

  His eyes shuttered, became guarded. “No confrontations with my dad here. No more trying to hide crazy thoughts like suicide. Instead, the staff urge me to open up more.”

  I tried not to wince. What had been so terrible in Seth’s life that he wanted to die? But it was much too soon for me to ask him such a thing. I didn’t want to share my own private mental hell. Yet I admired his courage in sharing his thoughts with me.

  Touching was discouraged here between patients, but I needed to touch Seth. I slipped my hand in the pocket of his jacket, and his large hand wrapped around mine like a warm glove. I squeezed his fingers, and we furtively clasped hands as we strolled the yard.

  I had a friend. Maybe more than a friend. Suddenly, I had to know. I cocked my head toward a nearby pine and tugged at his hand. Seth followed me as I rounded the tree and then pressed my back against rough bark. “Kiss me,” I demanded.

  He did.

  My body sang with excitement. It thrilled me—and terrified me, all at once. Seth must have sensed my hesitation. He pulled away and smiled gently, running a hand through my tousled hair. “Guess we should head back.”

  “Right.”

  I pushed away from the pine and glimpsed the unblinking stare of a perched crow only a few yards away. A guardian angel feathered in black, watching over me.

  I’ll be back. With food, I silently promised the crow. Wind rustled the pretty, dead leaves, and several fell down my cheeks, gently brushing my skin like a caress.

  Mom. She was still with me—always would be. My heart refused to believe the news of the fiery car crash that had ended her life less than a year after Ainsley’s disappearance. That news had spiraled me into a regression I was just starting to emerge from.

  Now was a season for new friends, new experiences, no matter the circumstances.

  We finished our walk, hands still secretly joined inside his jacket. My fingers curled around a slip of paper in the bottom of his pocket. Before we returned to the building, I slipped the bit of paper into my own pocket.

  “See you tonight in the rec room?” Seth asked before we continued on our separate ways.

  “Yes.” I felt foolishly excited at the prospect of sitting around with the other patients watching an old movie. But I’d take my moments as I could. Back at my own dorm, I withdrew the paper scrap I’d filched, curious what it might be. It was only a piece of a gum wrapper, but I carefully tucked it into my nightstand drawer.

  Some girls had corsages or movie tickets as souvenirs of their first date, their first boy kiss. I had a gum wrapper, but it would suffice.

  Chapter 16

  VIOLET

  Christmas 2012

  Cottonwood Specialized Care Facility

  The crow swooped down, grabbed the peanut in its beak, and flew off. “Ingrate,” I called out with a laugh. What I wouldn’t do to see Tux’s friendly face once again. My breath created wisps of chilled smoke, and I shivered against the nip in the air. Time to head back. I couldn’t wait to meet Seth and give him the Christmas gift I’d bought.

  I slanted my head down, fighting the wind, and ran to the door. Inside, Cottonwood was as cheery as one could expect at a mental hospital during the holidays. Still, I’d managed to carve out a bit of happiness for myself. And just two weeks ago I’d been relieved to find that several hundred dollars had been anonymously deposited in my personal account at Cottonwood. Every year, like clockwork, the money would come around the holidays, and I scrimped by and made it last as long as possible. I couldn’t imagine who’d been so kind. Dad or Delaney? That didn’t feel right. They obviously didn’t care much about me, but perhaps the money was to soothe any guilt they might harbor about forsaking me to state care.

  I put the matter out of my mind, and with a quick backward glance to make sure no one was watching me, I scurried downstairs to where, hopefully, Seth awaited.

  He didn’t disappoint. The utility room door was ajar, and I spotted his auburn hair in the semidarkness—a flash of bright color, like a burning ember in a gray ash pile. Heart near to bursting, I ran to him, dangling a twig of mistletoe above his head. I’d pinched it from the Christmas wreath on the rec room door and had eagerly anticipated sneaking away to meet Seth here in the basement. Our place. To outsiders, it might appear sordid and gross, but to us it was sanctuary.

  “Kiss me,” I commanded, and he willingly complied. A gentle kiss, the kind that made me all gooey inside.

  “You smell good,” he said roughly in a husky voice.

  “Courtesy of Luanne’s gift,” I said, extending the inside of my wrist for him to smell it better. “A bottle of perfume.” It had a strong top note of magnolias, which reminded me of Mom. I marveled at how my friend always managed to know just the right thing to make me happy.

  From above, a Christmas carol blared, followed by a stampede of foot stomping.

  “What the hell?” Seth half rose from our seated position on the floor and gazed at the ceiling, as if afraid it was in danger of caving in on us.

  I doubled over laughing. “It’s the local cloggers,” I explained.

  “The what?”

  “Cloggers. You know, those hillbilly dancers that wear gingham skirts and bloomers. It’s like tap dancing on steroids.”

  “Sounds like we’re missing a cool party,” he joked. He sat back down and pulled something from his jacket. “For you. Merry Christmas.”

  Grinning, I accepted the small box wrapped in red tissue and dug into it. Inside was a hand-carved wooden baby bird.

  “I whittled it,” he said, his face slightly red. “It’s not much
, but I know you like—”

  I wrapped my arms around him and gave him a fierce kiss. “It’s perfect. Thank you.” I laid my head on his shoulder, and the tears flowed. How was I ever going to say goodbye to Seth?

  “Whoa, there. What’s the matter?” he asked.

  I couldn’t tell him. Instead, I reached in my back pocket and pulled out a folded sheet of paper and handed it to him.

  Seth read the short note and then looked up. “This is great news. It’s what you’ve wanted, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, but . . .” I drew a deep breath. “The halfway house is in Montgomery. We won’t see each other again.”

  “We knew this day would come. I have news of my own. I’m being released next Friday.”

  “But . . . how? Are you going back home?”

  Seth had told me his story. He’d been depressed after the death of his mom and had taken one of his dad’s hunting guns, intending to take his life. When his dad had tried to stop him, Seth had turned the gun on him. Seth had never intended to actually shoot his father, but his dad had involuntarily committed him anyway, claiming Seth was a danger to himself and others.

  “Hell no. My old man has got nothing to do with it. Dr. Care Less finally decided I’m no longer a threat. My brother got me a job lined up working the oil rigs.”

  “Th-that’s wonderful.”

  Seth drew me into his arms and kissed the top of my scalp. “We’re both going to be okay, Violet. You’ll see.”

  These stolen moments had never been meant to last. He’d be free, making new friends . . . new girlfriends. I wanted that for Seth. I wanted his life to be easy and filled with friends and a special love that provided unconditional acceptance and support. He deserved that. Some woman would be lucky to have such a patient soul. He’d certainly let me open up to him at my own turtle’s pace and never complained.

  I clasped the wooden bird to my chest and tried to be happy for both of us. Forcing a brightness that I didn’t feel, I cleared my throat and presented him with a small wrapped box I’d hidden in my jacket. “I have something for you too.”

  Seth opened the box and lifted the silver chain and medallion. “What is this?”

  “A Saint Christopher medallion.” Suddenly, I felt the gift was all wrong. Neither of us were religious. It had been an impulse purchase from a catalog.

  “It’s supposed to be for protection and blessings,” I explained. “Kinda lame, now I think about it. If you—”

  “Know your problem? You think too much.” Seth kissed my forehead and then slipped the chain around his neck. “I’ll always wear it and remember you, Violet.”

  Chapter 17

  DELANEY

  Present day

  The image of my upturned roses and the secret whisperings between Dad and Violet set my temper sizzling. I stared at Violet. The dark changeling child had been foisted upon me when I was six years old, and now she’d returned, all these years later, insinuating herself back into my life. It wasn’t fair. Her mother was long dead, and Dad didn’t recognize her half the time. Did she really think she could just show up as an adult and claim an inheritance? Take over the Henderson land and family house? Disrupt my routine and order?

  In the faint hallway light, her almost black hair blended into the shadows and accentuated the pale, heart-shaped face that framed her blue-purple, almond-shaped eyes.

  Violet was exotic and striking, all the more so because she didn’t recognize her own beauty. The shrinking violet stereotype fit her—or at least it had when she was a child. Now I wasn’t so sure. Her name was more like the color than a flower—a confusing mixture of red passion and blue frost.

  We couldn’t have been more different, and she’d never felt like a true blood sister. I blamed Hyacinth for that. The woman had taken an irrational dislike to me from the start—me, not even old enough to be in kindergarten when Dad had first introduced us. And now Dad and Violet were getting chummy? I wouldn’t be crowded out again.

  What had they been whispering about downstairs? The startled, guilty flash on her face when she’d spotted me on the landing had been undeniable.

  Violet broke away and entered her bedroom, closing the door. A metallic click signaled she’d locked it. How dare she? What was that all about? This was my house, after all, and she was merely a guest.

  I stomped down the stairs and flung open Dad’s bedroom door. He didn’t so much as twitch at the noise and kept one side of his face smashed against a pillow, eyes tightly shut, and a blanket pulled up to his chin. I wasn’t fooled.

  “You know better than to get out of bed at night and go outside. You better not have destroyed my roses again.”

  Why did he have to dig up my roses? I worked so hard on them, trying to beautify our lives. I got no thanks for my gardening or for any of my efforts and caretaking. And now Violet came home and they were all tight—leaving me out of things. He couldn’t have secrets with Violet. I was his favorite daughter. The one he loved most and preferred, even over Hyacinth, when she was alive. Hurt fizzed through my veins at his betrayal. Wasn’t it bad enough my biological mother had died before I’d ever had the chance to know her? Bad enough that my stepmother and Violet had always been close and had denied me entry into their tight bond? At least I used to mean something special to my dad.

  “I’m sorry. It won’t happen again,” Dad said in that whiny twang that grated on my nerves.

  “What were you and Violet talking about?”

  “She asked why I’m always digging—that’s all.”

  I clicked my tongue in frustration. “There’s no treasure—or whiskey—buried in the backyard. All you ever do is destroy all my hard work.”

  And if there was any money, it’d be all mine. But no point getting him riled. I eyed the dirt-sprinkled sheets. Which meant even more housework for me tomorrow. “Go wash up before getting back in bed. You’re filthy.”

  He obeyed without protest, and I left, slamming the door on the way out to punctuate my displeasure. Apparently, I was the only one in this house with all their brain cells functioning normally. I frowned as I passed my sister’s door and then entered my bedroom.

  Violet was becoming a problem. Bad enough she’d gone poking around at the bank and made friends with Libby after I’d told her not to. But if she thought she could form an alliance with Dad, I’d need to step up my game. Rearranging her stuff to keep her off balance was child’s play. Tonight, I’d hopefully stirred a memory in Violet’s mind about her role in Ainsley’s disappearance. How much did she remember? How much was she faking about a memory loss? Violet was no innocent angel, as I well knew. Somewhere deep inside, she knew it too.

  I wanted her out of here. Out of my house with all her meddling and self-righteous attitude. But I’d have to show some patience while driving her away, or everything could blow up in my face.

  I took down the photo hanging on the wall and quickly tapped out the safe’s keyboard code. Inside the small compartment, my fingers grasped a small velvet pouch, and I made a fist around the smooth fabric that housed my most secret possessions. How many times had I started to throw these away over the years? Holding on to the trinkets was dangerous. Yet here they remained. I sat on the bed, untied the pouch strings, and let the contents tumble out.

  Hell yeah. This was my big gun. If needed, I could use this against Violet.

  Chapter 18

  VIOLET

  Present day

  For weeks now, Delaney and I had settled into a truce of sorts as we each went about our lives. Between the somewhat-settled tension at home and a new job, my days were full and left me little time for brooding.

  At work, I still wasn’t used to the manual labor. I placed both hands on my lower back and stretched, easing my strained muscles. My position at the Whispering Oaks Nursing Home required lots of bending and stooping. Most of my eight-hour shifts were spent emptying bedpans, helping patients in and out of wheelchairs, stripping beds, and other such glamorous duties. Not that I was
complaining. It was steady pay, and with my first paycheck tomorrow, I planned to open my own checking and savings accounts. My freedom accounts, as I’d privately labeled them.

  Despite the backbreaking work I was damn grateful that Cora Crenshaw, Willie’s wife, had informed me of the opening. She supervised this shift, and I couldn’t ask for a more understanding boss.

  Entering room 429, the last room on the hall, for my last task of the day, I wheeled the meal cart next to Mrs. Emmeline Upchurch’s bed. At the sound of the squeaking wheels, she turned from the window and faced me with rheumy pale-gray eyes.

  “It’s you, the new girl,” she said in her shaky old-lady voice. “What’s your name again?”

  “Violet.” I never offered my last name, just in case anyone’s memory here remained intact. I rolled her to a seated position and lifted the top from the steaming tray.

  Her face scrunched, and she gave a delicate sniff. “What’s this?”

  “Roast beef, mashed potatoes, carrots, and peas, with lime Jell-O for dessert,” I answered cheerfully, setting a glass of iced tea and eating utensils by the tray. “Hope you enjoy.”

  I beat a hasty retreat, eager to punch the time clock and hit the road. Libby and I were going out for pizza tonight. When she’d first suggested it, I’d immediately said no, but she’d insisted it was time for me to get out more. “You stay in that old house of yours too much,” she’d argued. “And then you work all day in the old folks’ home. It’s time to live it up a little.”

  I knew Libby meant well, but truthfully, I felt more comfortable at my job than any other place in town. My cheeks still burned when I thought of my encounter with Ainsley’s mother at the Feed and Seed, and then Hattie Pilchard’s pettiness at the drugstore. What if I encountered more of the same tonight?

  Cora walked out of room 341, and we nearly collided in the hall.

  “Oops, sorry,” I mumbled.

  “Not your fault, honey.” She fell into step beside me. “Job getting any easier for you?”