“Yeah, I’m an only child too.”
“No other kids in the house?” She tried to sound nonchalant, even as she studied his face for a reaction. And there it was, a slight hesitation. Just for a moment, but she was sure of what she saw.
“Nah,” he said finally, with a shrug. “Just me.” He set his backpack on the counter and tucked his purchases inside. “Nice meeting you, Niki.”
“Nice meeting you too. I hope to see you again soon.”
He nodded and headed to the door, stopping to look back as he left. Niki gave him a smile and a small wave. She’d made a connection. He’d be back, she was sure of it. Then they could talk again. Eventually she’d get it out of him. Teenage boys didn’t talk as much as girls, but she was gifted in listening and asking the right questions. Sometimes that was all it took.
Fred came and joined her behind the counter. “That was nice of you, making small talk with Jacob.”
“Does he come in here a lot?”
Fred tilted his head, considering. “Depends on what you mean by a lot. Twice a week, maybe? Always to stock up on junk food. His mother doesn’t allow it in the house, so we’re his go-to place for salt and sugar. The first couple times he came here I could barely get him to make eye contact.”
“You guys won him over.” Niki said it as a statement.
“Wasn’t easy. He’s a shy one.” Fred smiled. “And he’s got something weighing on him, that’s clear to see.”
“Do his parents ever come in?”
Fred shook his head. “I’ve only seen him with his dad. Don’t know the mom, but Jacob makes her sound like a prima donna, so I’m guessing she leaves the gas pumping to her husband.” Niki had more questions, but at that moment, the door swung open and a petite blonde woman walked into the store. Fred went into greeting mode. “Mrs. Timmerman, looking lovely as always. How are you today?”
For now, Niki was content to let the subject of Jacob Fleming drop. There would be other opportunities.
Chapter Seventeen
When Jacob got home, he was glad to see his mother’s car wasn’t in the garage. He hated the damn thing because it was an extension of her, a stupid, shiny car, a silver Audi designed to attract attention and admiration. She loved the Audi more than anything else in the world. Of course, she only loved it for three years, after which she traded it in for a new silver Audi. To Jacob, the replacement always looked almost exactly the same as the previous car, so he didn’t see the point of it. His father felt the same way, and each time he tried to talk her into hanging on to her car for a few more years, but she always ignored him. “This year’s model has better safety features,” she’d say. Either that or she’d claim it got better mileage. It didn’t really matter what she said—both Jacob and his dad knew the truth. It was all about status. Once his aunt had erroneously referred to his mom’s car as an “Acura,” and she’d stewed about it for a week. “As if I’d drive an Acura,” she’d said, insulted.
The absence of the Audi meant that Jacob wouldn’t be verbally assaulted with questions about his day as soon as he came through the door. This—along with the snacks in his backpack—put him in a good mood, and meeting Niki, the new employee at the gas station, had been a huge bonus to his day. Niki had been friendly and took an interest in him, and he thought it went beyond being nice to a customer. She’d just moved here, she’d said, and she lived on the street right behind him. Maybe she was looking for friends? She didn’t look much older than him, but she worked the day shift, so presumably she didn’t go to high school. Although that wasn’t necessarily true. Jacob had a friend who’d gotten sick of being hassled all the time, so he’d quit going to his high school and now did online classes. It was possible that Niki was doing the same, or maybe she was homeschooling. Lots of kids were homeschooling now.
If it weren’t for being home with his mother, Jacob could see himself doing online school. He couldn’t do worse grade-wise, and it had to be better for his mental health. It would be nice not to have to deal with the deliberate jostling in the hallways and the insults about his weight in the locker room. The school bus was a particular nightmare. He’d explained to his parents that none of the other seniors rode the bus. His dad was sympathetic, but he didn’t offer a solution. His mom told him walking would be good for him.
In high school he’d initially managed to stay under the radar, but his junior year the wind had shifted and he got targeted. One kid had pointed out his lack of a neck and chubby cheeks and called him “LEGO Head.” The nickname had stuck, and now everyone, even the sophomores, knew him by that name. As nicknames went, it could have been worse, so he pretended to laugh it off. It still stung, even if he didn’t show it. At times he found himself looking in the mirror and wishing he were someone different, someone who didn’t have a big, fat head, sloping shoulders, and a pear-shaped body. It was bad enough being him, and now they had to torment him for it? If only they’d leave him alone. High school was a very specific type of hell. He knew one thing—once he got out, he was never setting foot in that building again. He would never go to class reunions, no matter how many years went by.
Arriving home, he hung his sweatshirt in the front hall closet and set his shoes on the mat. When Mia came out to see who’d arrived, he asked, “Where’s Mom?”
Mia shook her head, apparently not knowing.
He tried again. “Did she say when she’ll be back?”
“Not until later. She left you a note that said it might be late, and you’re supposed to make me dinner. She said we’re on our own.”
Jacob set his backpack on the floor and unzipped the main compartment. “It’s your lucky day, squirt. I bought us some chips.” He’d really bought them for himself, but seeing her face light up made him wish the statement were true.
She followed him into the kitchen, where he gestured for her to take a seat at the table. Then he poured the can of Coke into two glasses, giving Mia the glass with the lesser amount. He dumped potato chips onto two napkins and slid one of them over to her before rolling down the top of the bag and tucking it back into his backpack. Mia picked up one chip and looked at it before popping it into her mouth, her legs swinging underneath the table. While she crunched, Jacob went and hid the crushed soda can underneath a layer of trash in the kitchen garbage can. He’d once tossed a can into the recycling bin, thinking his mother would never notice. He wasn’t going to make that mistake again.
“This is good. Thank you, Jacob,” Mia said. She was a funny thing, so grateful for anything that came her way.
“You’re welcome.”
“Did you get ’em at the gas station?”
Always with the questions. He tried to be patient with her, but sometimes it drove him crazy. He tried to keep in mind that if not for him, she wouldn’t know anything about the outside world. She had that crappy TV in her room, but until Jacob’s dad had bought an antenna at Best Buy, it hadn’t shown anything but static. Even now the picture was terrible, but it was better than nothing. Inmates in prison had more entertainment options than poor little Mia. He nodded. “I got them at the Village Mart. There was a new girl working there. She was really friendly.” He took a sip of Coke. “Really pretty too. Her name is Niki.”
“Niki.” Mia pronounced it like someone learning a new language. “What color is her hair?”
“Dark. Almost black.”
“Like mine?”
“Like yours but longer. Past her shoulders. She has dark eyes like yours too.” He grabbed some chips and crunched along with Mia. If his mother came in now she would kill him, but both he and Mia knew to clean up quickly if they heard the garage door go up. They were unspoken partners in crime in that regard. Neither of them wanted to invite her wrath.
“Did they have lots of potato chips?”
He nodded. “Lots of them. Doritos and Cheetos too.” Doritos would have been his first choice, but he’d stopped buying them after he got in trouble for having Dorito dust on his shirt. He hadn’t noti
ced it, but it didn’t escape the watchful eyes of his mother. She noticed everything. Plain potato chips, he decided, were a safer bet.
“Did they have Hostess CupCakes?” Ever since Jacob’s dad had once given her a Hostess CupCake, she was kind of obsessed with them.
“Yep. And all kinds of soda too. Bottles and cans. I didn’t know if I should get Cherry Coke or regular, but I finally decided on regular.”
“I like Sprite more than Coke.”
“I know. Next time I’ll get you a Sprite. And a Hostess CupCake too.”
“Oh, would you, Jacob? That would be so cool!”
It took so little to make her happy; that was the good part about Mia. The bad part about Mia was having to keep her a secret. At first he’d found it difficult. So many times he’d almost slipped and mentioned her to a friend or a relative. One time he actually did say her name by mistake, and he had to make up a story about his little cousin coming to visit.
“Jacob?” Mia asked.
“What?” He belched to make her laugh, and it had the desired effect. Her giggles were like bubbles.
“Can I ask you a question?”
“You already did.”
“Can I ask a different question?”
“Okay.” He had an idea of where this was going, and it made him uneasy.
“Where did I live before I lived here?”
He exhaled. She deserved to know, and yet he’d been warned repeatedly not to tell. His mom had said they’d all go to jail if it got out. Of course, his mother never dreamed Mia would be the one doing the asking. Mia wasn’t even like a person to her. More like a moving doll or a vacuum cleaner. “You lived in a different house. Not a very nice one.”
“What was it like?”
Jacob thought back. He’d been almost fourteen at the time, old enough to remember exactly what he’d seen, but he also knew that having heard his mother’s version of events related to his father over the years may have influenced his memory. She had a way of convincing people of different truths, ones that didn’t jive with reality. “It was old, and the roof was sagging. Inside there were bugs, and you were hungry and dirty.”
“But, Jacob, didn’t I have a mom and dad to take care of me?”
She was just a little kid, but sometimes she really did a number on his emotions. Something about her big brown eyes and the way she looked up to him twisted a knife in his gut. “No,” he said sadly. “You didn’t have anyone to take care of you. That’s why we saved you and brought you here.”
“So are my mom and dad dead?” Mia’s gaze set upon him, patiently waiting.
“I don’t know. Probably.”
“But wasn’t anyone with me?”
Jacob felt his frustration transform into irritation, and he snapped, “Enough with the questions! You know we’re not supposed to talk about it. Stop being annoying.”
Her head dropped, and he could no longer see her face. When she finally looked up, he saw tears glistening in her eyes. Oh crap. Now she was crying.
Softly she said, “But, Jacob, why aren’t we supposed to talk about it?”
He sighed. “I don’t know, Mia. Eat your chips.” The mood in the room had changed; that’s how much control his mother had. Even when she wasn’t there, the idea of her loomed over them, putting a damper on things. Finally, he said, “There’s nothing really to tell, Mia. All you have is us.”
She sniffed and took another potato chip. Man, she was a slow eater, savoring each chip, while Jacob could have devoured the whole bag in one sitting if he let himself. Holding back from good food was not a strength for him. When something delicious was in front of him, he was frantic for it. When it was out of sight but available, it called to him. Mia took tiny, delicate, slow bites. Maybe that was why he had such a bulky body, while Mia was such a teeny thing.
Someday he’d tell Mia what he remembered about the time they found her, but today wasn’t the day. She was too young and innocent, and her life before them was too ugly. All she had to know was that her former situation had been terrible, so Jacob and his mother had brought her home to live with them. He remembered how angry his father had been when they’d returned from a trip to Minneapolis for his grandfather’s funeral and he’d discovered that they had somehow acquired a little girl somewhere in Wisconsin on the drive home.
It was clear-cut and simple. First they didn’t have Mia, then they did. And the way they’d acquired her had almost seemed like fate. In fact, his mother said it had been fate—a second chance at having a little girl after losing baby Olivia.
About two hours after they’d found Mia and were back on the road again, his mother had stopped at Walmart for diapers and new clothing for her, while Jacob and Mia had waited in the car. That night they stayed at a hotel, and she cut the little girl’s hair, which was so snarled and matted that a comb wouldn’t go through it. Her next order of business was a bath. The water and the white washcloth turned a dingy brown, and when Mia came out she looked like a new child. Mia was silent the whole time, patting the water, allowing his mother to do what she wanted to her. Like a doll.
It turned out that Mia didn’t need the diapers. She’d been wearing underpants soaked with urine when they found her, which made the car stink something awful, so they’d assumed she wasn’t toilet trained, but it turned out that she knew how to use the toilet and could hold it until she had access to one. That first day she was silent the whole time, not crying, not making a noise, even when his mother yanked at her hair with the comb.
After that they fed her, and she ate as if she was famished. She ate so quickly that she threw up, and his mom made Jacob clean it up. After that they doled out the food in small quantities, which seemed to work better.
Jacob had been the one to carry Mia into the house when they returned home. She’d fallen asleep in the car. Once inside, he set her gently on the couch. Naturally, his father had lots of questions, and his mother gave him the abbreviated version, ending with, “And of course we had to take her out of there. What else could we do?” His mother made everything sound so black-and-white. She had two emotions, as far as Jacob could tell: she was either pleased that things were going her way or enraged that they weren’t. Oh, she could disguise the pleased to make it seem like happiness or joy or pride. She could even fake laugh with the best of them. The rage was harder for her to camouflage, but she hid it by acting justifiably outraged or holding it in check. Holding back was a strategy for her. It made her feel superior when others became upset while she maintained a calm demeanor.
His dad said, “What about stopping at the closest police station? Did that thought ever occur to you?”
“The closest police station?” His mother looked amused. “We were in the boonies, Matt. There was nothing out there. I was lucky to find the Walmart to get her some clothes.”
Jacob remembered how furious his father had been when he heard that his mother planned to keep Mia. “You can’t just keep another human being, Suzette,” he’d said. “She’s not a toy. She’s a child. Somebody’s child, and they have to be looking for her.”
His mother gave him her coldest look, the kind guaranteed to plunge an emotional dagger. “Matt, just mind your own business.”
That set him off in a big way, and he began ranting, telling her that this was his business, that it was his house and his family and that both of them could be convicted of felonies for kidnapping. He paced around the living room, making point after point, all of them valid, not that reason mattered where Jacob’s mom was concerned. Through it all, Mia slept on the couch, her thumb in her mouth. If she could sleep through his parents fighting, Jacob decided, she could sleep through anything.
His father kept yelling, while his mother smiled as if she had the upper hand. She didn’t do anything until he reached for the phone to call the police, and then she folded her arms and said, “Think carefully. Do you really want to do that? You know that I would be forced to tell them the real reason you decided not to practice medicine
anymore. It would certainly make the news, and everyone would know. Or suppose I share the photos I have of you with your slutty girlfriend? Hmm? Or your perverted texts? What would your parents think of their golden boy once he’s in handcuffs and thrown into prison for committing billing fraud?”
“You wouldn’t.” The blood drained out of his face.
“I would. Of course, I’d play it like you threatened to kill me if I ever told.” She smiled at the thought. “And then everyone would know your true colors and comfort me in my grief.”
He hesitated, the phone still in his hand. “You can’t prove anything.”
She laughed. “You’re such an idiot, Matt. I have proof, copies of documents and screenshots of your texts with your lady friend. If you don’t believe me, go ahead and call the police right now.”
Looking stricken, he set down the phone. “So that’s it, then. You’d turn in your own husband.”
“Only if you force me to. Then I’d really have no choice.” She ran her fingers through her layered hair. “Don’t bother looking for the paperwork. It’s locked up tight. And if anything happens to me, I’ve made arrangements to have the information made public.” Her lips stretched into a mean smile. “But don’t worry, darling, I’ll visit you in prison. As for the little girl, if it comes up at all, I’ll say she just showed up on our doorstep. Who’s going to say anything different?”
They faced off, the tension so thick it made Jacob dizzy. Finally, his dad broke down. “I just don’t understand, Suzette. Why? Why do you take such pleasure in being so mean and difficult? Why are you so unreasonable? It would be so easy not to be. Jacob and I don’t deserve this. We have a good life. If only you would allow us to live in peace. I try to make you happy. What have we ever done to make you hate us so?” He suddenly looked older, defeated.
“Don’t be ridiculous. I don’t hate you. I just know what I want. I have a strong will, and that’s a good thing. You admired that about me once, didn’t you?”
The Moonlight Child Page 11
