The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
Text copyright © 2013 by Sarah Jeffrey
All rights reserved
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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available.
9781477816363 (hardcover)
1477816364 (hardcover)
9781477866368 (eBook)
1477866361 (eBook)
Book design by Becky Terhune
Editor: Marilyn Brigham
First edition
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
TO MY HUSBAND:
MY BEST FRIEND
MY FOREVER LOVE
CONTENTS
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 19
CHAPTER 20
CHAPTER 21
CHAPTER 22
CHAPTER 23
CHAPTER 24
CHAPTER 25
THE FALCON’S NEST
CHAPTER 1
“Hi. My name is Mallory Dane, and I am a liar.”
I scowled into the mirror to make the reprimand more potent. Admitting that I was powerless over my lying was supposedly the first step, but repeating it in front of the mirror hadn’t helped at all. I’d been doing it every morning for at least a month, and I still hadn’t even come close to confessing to an actual human.
It would be too… complicated.
Complicated—that was an understatement. It would be fraught with complications, or, in a nod to the evil SAT, “replete” with complications.
My eyes drifted to a picture of Todd and me stuck to the top corner of my mirror, courtesy of the fabulous Photoshop. There were days when I looked at that picture of us—the beach in the background, the sky turning a soft orange—and I almost believed it really happened. That some random passerby had offered to take a picture of us together, and we smiled—our image captured.
But today I didn’t even bother trying to pretend it was real or to conjure up details of our silly fight and instead remembered sitting in front of my computer, cutting and pasting us together. I was tired of him and all the problems that came with him. I wanted a real life.
“Mallory!” Mom opened my door. “Where is she?”
“In her room.” Hello to you, too, Mom.
“Did you check on her?”
I grabbed a brush from my dresser, refusing to look at my mother. “Of course.”
She left without a word, leaving the door ajar. I wanted to slam it shut. I wanted to—but I didn’t. I was too well trained. I just closed it and leaned against it.
Today was not the day for confessions.
Tess texted me and said she was coming over to use my computer. It would be useless to refuse, so I threw some clothes into a bag and rushed downstairs to intercept her.
Mom was at the kitchen table grading papers. “Dad will be ready to leave soon,” she said.
“Okay.”
Her hair was falling out of her ponytail, and her glasses kept slipping. It reminded me so much of how she was before that I thought about hugging her. But I didn’t do that either.
Tess pounded on the door, making Mom jump. “Mallory, be sure that…”
I walked away before she could finish and opened the door for Tess. I love Tess. Years ago we had a visiting speaker come to our school and yammer at us about being nice to one another and forging authentic support systems. I couldn’t remember much of what he said except that we all need a “safe place” to go when things are hard. Tess has always been my safe place.
“What’s wrong?” Tess put her hand on her hip.
“Nothing.”
She scowled. “Yeah. And I’m the next American Idol.” Tess walked past me, and I followed her up to my room.
She sat at the computer and started typing and scrolling.
“When are you coming home? I think Yvie is having a party tomorrow night.”
“Not till Sunday.”
Tess turned and looked at the bag, which I’d thrown on my bed. “Going to see Todd?”
Todd. Yes, always Todd.
I put a smile on my face. “Only tonight, I think. He has a… thing tomorrow.”
“You’ll be back in time for the party?”
“No, I’m staying over with my grandmother.”
Tess shrugged and turned back to the computer. “I think you’re the only sixteen-year-old on the planet who spends so much time with her grandmother.”
“It’s my last weekend before football starts. And I have to leave in a few minutes,” I reminded her.
“Sorry. Let me send these e-mails. You know I love you, right?”
Tess doesn’t have Internet or even a computer at her house, so she’s constantly borrowing mine. I didn’t usually mind, but it made things tricky sometimes.
“You have to help me decide which fund-raiser. These are the last two packets I have to order, and I think I’ll have every possibility known to humankind. You’ll call me when you get back so we can talk?”
“Of course.”
“Okay. I’ll let you have your last Todd weekend. Then it’s football and cheering and parties. And if Todd can’t get his butt here for some of it—especially homecoming—I’ll have to have a few words with him myself.”
“I believe that.”
I hurried Tess out the door, but getting past Mom was much harder.
Dad and I loaded all the equipment, but Mom stopped me before I got in the driver’s seat. “You should say good-bye to Darby,” she said.
“We have to go, Amy,” Dad said. He sounded more exhausted than upset.
“Look. We don’t know what can happen. What if you get back and…” She couldn’t say it, and I didn’t want to hear it.
I closed the door. “I’ll go. I’m going.” I could hear them arguing behind me all the way to the front door. I took the stairs two at a time and then stood at Darby’s closed door for a long moment, thinking about what my mom didn’t say.
I knocked lightly and pushed open the door.
Darby was curled up in her Papasan chair with a textbook open in her lap. She was in her pajama pants and college sweatshirt, and her hair was twisted into a messy bun on top of her head. I had always seen Darby as strong and beautiful. Able to do anything.
She didn’t look strong to me anymore. More like she might fall apart at any moment.
“Dad and I are heading out. Thought I’d say good-bye.”
“Have fun.” Darby’s words were cheery. They didn’t match what her eyes told me.
“Okay, well, good luck with your studying.”
“Thanks.”
I closed the door and hurried back to the SUV.
Mom and Dad were still arguing, so I climbed in the driver’s seat and shut the door. I checked my
texts. Two from Tess asking me to reconsider coming back in time for the party. One from Sophie telling me not to have so much fun that I come home pregnant.
I turned off the phone and threw it in my backpack.
When Dad finally got in, I pulled out of the driveway quickly and headed north. Away from home.
I could feel myself relax with every mile we drove away. It was a perfect day. Warm sun, blue sky dotted with puffy white clouds, and miles of open countryside. Even though Dad and I had been to the winery for a wedding before, we took a road that was forty-five miles out of the way so that we could look for barns. There was something about broken-down barns in a pretty field that made both of us want to take a picture.
We didn’t talk about home. We never did. Even when things were worse, and they had been worse, Dad and I had an unspoken contract to enjoy every moment of our escape.
We were almost back to the main highway when I saw a rotting gray barn in a field off to my right. I slowed down and made a hard turn onto a gravel trail, kicking up dirt and debris from the tires. Dad grabbed his laptop and held it to his chest, and laughed.
I parked the SUV, and we both grabbed our cameras and walked toward the barn.
It towered three stories high, and the area around it was littered with rusting metal farm equipment and other debris. We each took our own pictures until Dad started posing me in various positions, close-up and far away. Dad had me sit with my arms stretched out behind me in a patch of sunlight.
Later, I could Photoshop Todd into one or two of the pictures. Do some fake status updates, and my weekend away would be documented. My fake trip. My fake life.
Dad waved me back and hurried me into the car so that we could do what we really came to do. Shoot the wedding of Diana and Alfred Grey at the Lake Anna Winery.
I began shooting weddings and working with my dad’s photography business when I was twelve. Originally, he’d just needed an extra hand to do the photo booth and carry the equipment. But then I began learning the software and helped him with the digital design of the photos. I took candids and other shots of the wedding, but I also took shots of the overall design aesthetic and then used the colors and textures to create… well, whatever the couple wanted. I made digital albums, collages, digital backdrops to use behind the posed portraits, and anything I was inspired to make.
We were a team. A pretty good one.
I glanced at my dad, who had his laptop open, and wondered if he liked escaping as much as I did. Of course, it was different for him; this was his job.
Being his assistant had its perks. One of them was watching him work a wedding. Dad could pose group after group and coax even the most ambivalent groomsman into giving him the picture he was looking for. Every shot he needed was planned in advance, and he was swift and effective. At the reception he was like a ghost, moving through the party, capturing images that I would marvel at later, while never interrupting the party.
He was so different at weddings than he was at home. At a wedding he orchestrated everything like a master conductor. At home, well, he was just the ghost—always aware of what was going on but unwilling to disrupt the flow of events.
He smiled at me, a smile that told me, yeah, he loved escaping, too.
The wedding was lush and beautiful. The reception went on long after midnight, and by the time Dad and I got to our hotel room, we were both too exhausted to do anything but fall into bed. I didn’t touch my phone, knowing there would be texts to deal with.
In the morning we drove home, barreling sixty miles an hour back toward reality.
Dad gave me a smile when he caught me looking at him. But it was a tight one, a weary one, and I knew I wasn’t the only one who didn’t want to leave.
Saturday would be spent dodging texts and laying low so that no one would know I was back home. Maybe Photoshopping so that I could text pictures, which was much harder than posting online.
Mom was at the door, already anxious, when we pulled into the garage.
“We have to leave for the picnic in less than an hour,” she said to my dad. “I thought you’d be home earlier.” Mom walked to the back of the SUV and yanked on the handle.
“We’re home an hour earlier than I told you,” Dad said, looking at his watch. He started unloading bags, ignoring the withering look my mom gave him.
“Sorry. I’m kind of tired, though. It was a long wedding, and we didn’t get much sleep. Do you think I can skip this one?”
“Janelle is expecting both of us. I already confirmed it with her,” Mom said.
I shoved all my stuff into my backpack and hurried inside.
I closed the door to my room and checked my phone. I wasn’t going to answer anyone until I was technically back home. I thought about offering to take my dad’s place and go to the picnic. But I wasn’t sure I could stomach playing the perfect, straight-A daughter and making small talk with my mom’s teacher friends. They were nice enough, but I was tired and… edgy.
I figured Dad could handle a few hours of hot dogs and small talk.
Mom came to my door and poked her head in. “We’re leaving now.”
“Okay.”
“You’ll check on her, right? I left dinner for both of you. Try to get her to eat.”
“Sure.”
Mom came over and hugged me. “Sorry. I forgot to say how much I missed you.”
At least she realized it.
“Did you have fun with your dad?”
I nodded, and she turned to leave. “Okay, well, call if… if you need anything.”
“I will.”
“Every hour, right? You won’t forget? We can’t get complacent, you know.”
“I know.”
She smiled but pushed the door open as she left, the gesture obvious, meant to remind me of Darby just down the hall. I stalled in my room until I heard the front door close.
It was always awkward figuring out exactly what to say to Darby. I decided to pop my head in to let her know I was home, hoping that would be “normal” enough. If babysitting your older sister could ever be considered in the realm of normal.
The door was ajar, and I pushed it open a little more.
I put on my cheery voice. “Hey, I’m home.”
Instantly I regretted my decision. She was curled up on her bed asleep on top of her books. My words startled her awake.
She gave a frustrated sigh and shoved a book. “What time is it?” she asked.
I leaned on her door. “It’s one. Mom and Dad left for the picnic. Did you have lunch yet?”
Darby shook her head. “I’m not hungry. I need to finish studying.”
I tried to read her expression. She seemed upset, but I wasn’t sure why. Is it serious? Or is it nothing? “Okay, well, let me know if you change your mind.” I closed the door slowly, watching her open a book.
Always the same two questions but never an answer.
CHAPTER 2
“You’re avoiding me,” Tess said as I climbed into her Jeep Monday morning.
“I am not.”
Tess gave me her “Do you think I’m an idiot?” look.
I spent all day Sunday getting ready for this moment, but now I couldn’t get my tongue to work.
Step 1: Admit that I am powerless over my lying. My life, really. Done.
Step 2: Believe that God could restore me to sanity. Yes.
Step 3: Turn my life over to God. I think?
Step 4: Make a moral inventory. Yes.
I had an exhaustive and embarrassing list of accumulated lies, all told to protect myself. And my family. Making the list was one thing. It was Step 5 that seemed impossible: Admit to God, myself, and another human being the exact nature of my wrongs.
Tess was the obvious person to tell. But I couldn’t do it.
“What is it?” Tess demanded.
“Nothing. A fight. Todd and I had a fight.”
Yvie and Sophie were waiting in the parking lot for us when we pulled in. Yvie was tall, leggy,
and the object of every guy’s desire. Sophie was a more exotic beauty. The four of us had been friends since middle school. Tess and I were the closest, though, so when they approached, I knew that another day would go by with no confession.
“What’s going on?” Sophie asked.
Tess jabbed her thumb at me. “Mallory and Todd had a fight.”
Yvie was leaning on the Jeep, texting. “Well, he’d better show up for homecoming. You swore on your computer.”
Sophie held her hand to her heart. “The bloom of romance is fading.” Leave it to Sophie to be dramatic.
“It’s just a fight. Can we go inside now?”
Tess gave me another one of her looks.
I could only avoid dealing with Todd for so long.
But it wasn’t Tess or the Twelve Steps that was on my mind as I sat through trig. I stared at the back of Liam Crawford’s head—an actual guy with bones and skin and everything.
Liam Crawford. He was bent over his paper writing something, his brown curls a mop on his head. In the six weeks he had been at North County, Liam and I had exchanged maybe a dozen words. We ran in different crowds. I was a varsity cheerleader, and while I wasn’t one of the über-popular like Yvie or Sophie, Tess and I had carved out our own happy niche. We were near enough to the in-crowd never to lack an invitation to a party but far enough away from the center not to be under constant pressure.
It was a place where I could breathe. And Todd was a part of that. Todd was my ready excuse for anything I didn’t want to have to explain. Any time I just wanted an out.
As much as I wanted to get rid of him, I wasn’t sure what a life without Todd would even look like.
“Liam,” Mr. Petrini called out. Liam stood up and walked toward the teacher’s desk, and they had a brief conversation that I couldn’t hear.
Mr. Petrini looked up and said, “Who has time to walk Mr. Crawford over to the Tech Center and show him where the testing room is?”
My hand shot up in the air so quickly I knocked my book to the floor.
Oh. My. God.
Mr. Petrini smirked. “Thanks, Mallory. You two can be excused.”
Me & My Invisible Guy Page 1
