by Dori Lavelle
“When I hired you to work at Stalford, didn’t you think it was important for me to know you’re responsible for someone’s death?”
My stomach dropped to the floor, and I felt suddenly like I might faint. Without being asked to sit, I lowered myself onto the couch. I inhaled deeply as my heart pounded. “How…”
“How did we find out?” Sam snapped. “You should have known being involved with Nick Johnson would expose you and your life. It’s all over the papers.”
“You didn’t think it was important to tell me this?” Lilliana sounded more hurt than angry. And of course she was. She had trusted me. She had hired me with no credentials or experience.
“I’m sure you’ll understand that under these circumstances, we cannot keep you on as an employee,” Sam said.
“Is it true?” Lilliana asked. “Did you really kill a man?”
A tear slid down my cheek. Since I had not read the papers, I had no idea how much they knew. But I couldn’t lie to Lilliana. So I nodded and told her what I’d told Nick. “I’m not a murderer. It was not my intention to—”
“A killer, then.” Sam paced the room, his face stormy. “What difference does it make? We’d be foolish to keep you on after you’ve tainted our image. Instead of thinking about what you’re selling, everyone will think of what you did. There has already been a reduction in customers this morning. You’re bad for business.”
“I really need this job.” My throat was tight and tears welled in my eyes, but I refused to break down in front of them. Despite my stomach being shredded to pieces, I had to show them I was strong. I could deal with this.
“There’s nothing more to say. Please leave.”
***
I stepped out of Stalford and inhaled the cool, fresh air. At first I walked purposelessly down the street, allowing the air to calm my nerves. After a while, I broke into a jog. I hadn’t buttoned up my coat again, and the cold wind pierced my torso through my cashmere sweater. But the sharp sting didn’t bother me. I kept right on running, past an old couple holding hands, a barking dog, parents crossing the road, holding on to their children. Other people leading normal lives. I increased my speed until my lungs were on fire. I only slowed when I almost knocked over an old, blind man.
“Excuse me,” I said, but the man just grunted and kept walking. I bent over to place my hands on my knees and gasped for air. When I’d caught my breath and my head had stopped spinning, I stepped into the bookstore I’d landed in front of and headed straight for the magazine section. Nick’s face was splashed across one, and I snatched it off the rack, resisting the urge to open it until I had sunk into the leather backseat of a cab.
I turned the page to get to the full-length story and skimmed through it. It exposed, in detail, my relationship with Nick and how I’d shot and killed Chris. And the next sentence I read was a bullet straight to my heart. The author claimed a close friend of mine had gone to the press with the whole story. A close friend? I only had one close friend. She knew everything about me. Every dirty little secret.
It could only be Melisa.
Tears poured down my cheeks, dripping onto the pages of the magazine. How could she do that to me? How could she hurt me? I trusted her with everything. If I couldn’t trust her, who could I trust?
With the tears pouring fast and my chest heaving, I closed the magazine and stuffed it into my purse.
Through the rearview mirror, the taxi driver threw me some curious glances but didn’t say anything. Instead, he changed the radio station to soothing classical music.
Back at my apartment, I stood under a hot shower, then dried myself off and ate some leftover spaghetti Bolognese from last night’s dinner. Then I climbed into bed, thinking maybe, when I woke up, I’d find it had all been a dream. But when I opened my eyes a few hours later, the room was dark, and the magazine next to me confirmed it was all very real.
My phone vibrated and I jolted up, still groggy. Then I pressed the phone to my ear.
“Marianne, how are you, darling?” Even when I started going by my second name, Cora refused to stop calling me Marianne, saying Marianne had done nothing wrong and didn’t deserve to be forgotten.
A smile spread across my face, and I gripped the phone tighter.
“Hi, Cora,” I said, my voice thick with happy tears.
“Are you all right? You don’t sound it.” For a woman who wasn’t my biological mother, Cora—she insisted only my dead mother be called Mom—always had a knack for detecting when I was down.
“I will be.” I sat up in bed and rubbed my sore eyes.
“Tell me what happened, sweetheart.”
My foster parents and I talked once or twice a month. When we didn’t, they sent me handwritten letters, along with postcards informing me of their adventures in Germany or some other European country. When we did talk over the phone, it was usually when I needed Cora the most. Like today, when I’d almost forgotten that I wasn’t all alone.
“Did something else about you and Nick appear in the press?” When the first article about Nick and I appeared, Cora was the first person I’d told. I had no reason to lie to her; she knew all my secrets and supported me in every way.
“Worse. They know about my past.” I rubbed my right temple. “Everything.”
There was silence on the other end of the line. And then Cora said in a hushed voice to Tim, my foster father, “Book us onto the next flight. Marianne’s in trouble.”
“No,” I said quickly, trying to bring her attention back to my voice. “Really, you don’t need to do that for me. I’ll be fine.”
“We’d like to come and see that for ourselves.”
“Mom,” I said. Sometimes I chose to ignore our agreement—over the years she had been a mom to me in every way that counted. A person can have more than one set of parents. “I have to get through this alone.”
“That’s what you said when you insisted on living and working in that homeless shelter. After all these years, you’re still hurting. I want to hold you.”
“You don’t have to physically be here for me to know I have your support. You’re always with me.”
“Sweetheart, are you sure?” a male voice boomed down the line. The first time I’d heard his voice, when I was introduced to them at the orphanage at the age of ten, I’d been frightened by it. Now it brought me a sense of security and comfort. “We can get on the next flight.”
“You don’t need to do that. Come next summer like we planned. I need to sort this out by myself.”
Tim sighed, and I heard a flurry of whispers.
Cora spoke into the phone again. “We’ll call you again next week. If you still sound this upset, we’ll be there by the weekend.”
“Deal.” All the more reason for me to sort out the mess I was in quickly. Cora and Tim had opened their hearts and home to me and loved me as their own. Now it was their time to enjoy their early retirement. Plus, I was a grown woman—no longer the orphan girl they’d taken under their wings.
When we ended the call, I climbed out of bed and got dressed, grabbed my purse, and left the apartment. I needed to see Melisa.
***
At the shelter, Lynnette received me with a hug, wrapped me in a grey, tattered blanket, and made me a mug of hot coffee. She led me to her crammed office.
“Carlene,” she said as we sat. Her grey-streaked hair was disheveled, the curly strands hanging in wisps around her lined face. Her eyes sparkled with tears. “I’m so sorry for what Melisa did.”
“You knew?” My voice trembled.
“I tried to talk her out of it. But obviously, she went ahead, anyway.” She sighed, and her shoulders slumped. “She’s started drinking and gambling again.”
“Oh, no. Not after all the hard work.” Melisa had been sober since the day I left Oasis.
Lynnette met my gaze again. “I’m afraid this is the worst she’s ever been. One thing I know about her is that she never steals. Never. But she stole money from me two wee
ks ago.”
I pursed my lips. What more could I say? My problems were big, but they could be solved. The press would lose interest in me eventually. But Melisa was sick. “Where is she now?”
“She left here two days ago with some biker guy, headed God knows where. Said she won’t be back.”
“You didn’t ask where she was going?”
“She wouldn’t tell me. I think it’s the guilt that drove her away. She does care about you, Carlene.”
I nodded, then sighed. “Where do you think she is? I want to go and look for her.”
“You still want to help her after what she’s done to you?”
“Yes. She wouldn’t have done what she did if she wasn’t battling her addictions.”
Lynnette smiled, her teeth like polished pearls in the light. “You have a beautiful soul, Carlene. People like you will always find their happiness. Don’t let all this pull you down. This is a bump in the road. A big one, but still just a bump.”
“I wish it were a small bump.” I managed a smile.
“You’ll overcome anything life throws at you.”
“Thanks.” I squeezed her cold hand. Her hands were always like ice. “Now let’s make a list of all the places Melisa might be. She might need help.”
“Okay. I don’t think she mentioned a new bar apart from the ones she used to go to before coming to Oasis.” One of Melisa’s hobbies had been to tell everyone the names of all the bars she’d been to. Almost like they were a collection.
“A while back I thought she told me a new bar had opened up on Doreen Lane… Remy’s Bar or something,” I said.
“I don’t know about it.”
I stood up and picked up my purse. “I’ll go and see if she’s there.”
“Should I come with you?” asked Lynnette.
“No,” I said. “You go and get ready for the dinner crowd. I’ll give you a call to let you know if I was successful.”
Lynnette hugged me again at the door. I hailed five taxis until I finally found one that knew where Remy’s Bar was. My search didn’t last long—in fact, it hardly even started. At the entrance of the bar, Melisa sat cross-legged on the sidewalk, leaned against the wall, with a bottle in one hand and a bowl in the other. She wore an oversized coat, but she was still shivering. Her cheeks were stained with dried tears.
“Melisa?” I kneeled before her.
She gave me a ghost of a smile. “My berry best friend in the whole world.” Her bloodshot eyes blinked, and she struggled to focus them on me. “Come sit. Sit with me, my berry best friend.” She thumped the ground next to her with the bottle.
“No, Melisa. I can’t stay. I came to get you,” I said, ignoring the stench of alcohol and cigarette smoke surrounding her.
She shook the bowl, and the sound of coins rang out. Who would give change to a drunk person sitting in front of a bar? “I didn’t make enough for another bottle. Go away. I don’t need your help.”
“I’m not going anywhere without you.” I glanced at my watch. It was almost nine. I was drained, but I couldn’t leave her.
After much persuasion on my part and slurred resistance on hers, I managed to pull her up and load her into a taxi.
It took twenty minutes for us to arrive at my apartment. I helped her bathe and prepared chicken soup and bread for her to eat.
“You can spend the night here,” I said, helping her into my guest bed.
I switched off the lamp on the night stand and edged toward the door.
“I’m so sorry… I…” Melisa sobbed as I reached for the handle. She had mostly sobered up. “I…”
“You don’t have to explain.”
“I’ve ruined everything for you.”
“No, I did that. Not you.”
She didn’t respond. I waited in the doorway for a few moments until her breathing deepened and she slept.
Back in my room, lying under the covers and staring at the ceiling, I made a decision. Now that so many people knew what I’d done, the only way I could truly move on from Nick and my past would be to leave Serendipity. I had to move someplace else, where no one knew me.
Chapter Six
“I know you keep saying I don’t owe you an apology, but I’m so sorry, Carlene.” Melisa wrapped her hands around the mug of steaming coffee I had just handed her. Her eyes were empty and her red hair fell in tufts around her shoulders, aflame against the white terrycloth robe she was borrowing.
I didn’t want to make her feel any worse than she already felt, but I had to ask. “What caused you to relapse?”
“A few weeks ago Lynnette sent me to carry out some errands, and I saw someone from my past.”
I blinked. “Who?”
“Florian Dale. Or Heat, as everyone called him.”
“The guy you said you had a crush on in high school?”
Melisa’s eyes darkened, and she gazed into her coffee. “Him. He was also my husband’s best friend. He didn’t see me, but he still brought back memories from my old life…my husband’s death, our baby.” She lifted her head again, eyes sparkling. I’d never seen Melisa cry before last night. I always knew her to have a shell that hid her vulnerable core from everyone else. She drank and gambled instead.
“I couldn’t cope,” she continued. “Not on my own. I wanted to forget it all.”
No one understood better than me what a hard punch old memories could throw. When I moved to Oasis, I had been running from those blows. But I didn’t turn to drinking or gambling. “I’m actually surprised you hadn’t bumped into anyone you knew till now.”
Melisa rubbed her eyes. “It’s not the first time I saw someone I knew. It’s just that the others didn’t matter.”
“I’m sorry this hit you so hard.”
She wiped her cheek and grabbed my hand, her palm warm from the coffee mug. “No, I’m sorry. So sorry. There’s no excuse for what I did to you.”
Every morning when I opened my eyes, I ached for forgiveness for all the wrong I’d done. Who was I to deny Melisa the same forgiveness I craved?
I squeezed her hand. “I forgive you.”
Melisa stood and engulfed me in a tight hug. “Thank you. Thank you so much. I’ll make it up to you, I promise. And I’ll never touch another drop.”
“I accept those promises.” I wrapped my arms around her and stroked her hair. Then I pulled back and looked her in the eye. “What did you do with the money the reporters gave you?”
Melisa returned to her seat. “I didn’t take it, in the end.”
“You gave away information and didn’t get anything for it?”
She cast a glance downward. “As soon as I told them what they needed to know, I realized what a shitty thing I’d done. I couldn’t take the money.”
So I’d done the right thing by forgiving her, even if what she did was foolish. “Thank you,” I said, and gave her a small smile.
As I took our mugs to the sink, I told her, “I made a decision last night about how to handle what happened.”
Melisa joined me at the sink. She reached for a dishcloth and wiped the mugs after I washed and rinsed them. “Anything I can help with?”
“No. I’m leaving Serendipity.”
Melisa dropped the dishcloth on the dish rack. “You’re leaving?”
I turned to her and crossed my arms. “This place is tainted for me. Chris died here. Now everyone knows it was my fault. When I came looking for you, people recognized me on the street. They didn’t need to say a thing—the word murderer was written in their eyes.”
“I’ll miss you so much, but I understand. When are you leaving? Where will you go?”
“Maybe next week. I haven’t thought about where I’m going yet. But when I get there, I’d love for you to visit.”
“I will.”
We hugged again for a long time, and then I accompanied her to Oasis. I wanted to spend the rest of the day with the friends I’d be leaving behind next week, and I took my last chance to help out with cooking and serving
lunch and dinner.
I took on as many shifts as I could manage. Helping others had helped me over the years.
“Aren’t you ever going to stop?” Lynnette asked as I helped her load the industrial dishwasher. The residents had finished eating dinner, and most of them disappeared quickly to their sleeping hall.
I rinsed a plate under a scalding stream of water. “Huh?”
“Don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about.” Lynnette placed her hands on her waist and fixed me with a serious gaze. “You’ve been working nonstop all day. You haven’t even eaten.”
“I’m not hungry.”
She extracted the plate from my hands and escorted me to one of the tables in the cafeteria, where I slumped into a plastic chair.
“You’re still upset, aren’t you?”
I rubbed my temples. I’d been trying not to cry all day. And now that I’d slowed down and had nothing to occupy my thoughts, reality smacked me in the face. “My life is crumbling and I’m not sure how to stop it,” I said as tears streamed down my face.
“It’s all right to be sad, honey. Crying can bring such relief.” She shifted her chair closer. “You know what? You’re a strong woman. You will make it through this. I know you will. Look what you’ve made it through already. I’m sure you’ll be able to carve out a nice life for yourself wherever you end up.”
“I hope you’re right.”
As I wiped the tears from my cheeks, Melisa appeared and sat down next to me. Guilt was still written all over her face. I draped a hand across her shoulders. I didn’t regret forgiving her.
“Can I stay here tonight?” I asked Lynnette. I felt safe at the shelter, where I was surrounded by people who cared for me. Oasis lived up to its namesake; it was a haven far away from all the bad things that could happen to me in the real world.
“Of course, you can stay here as long as you want.” Lynnette patted my hand.
I didn’t only spend the night, but also most of the next morning, and I helped out where I could.
In the evening, it was hard to convince myself to return to my apartment. But I couldn’t stay at Oasis indefinitely, and I needed to pack.
