She’d been fourteen when she’d made the decision to move in with her mother. Kelly showed up on her grandma’s doorstep and even though she’d never seen her before, not in even in a picture, Melissa knew who she was because Kelly was undoubtedly the most beautiful woman she had ever seen.
Her hair, a deep rich auburn floated down her back in lazy waves and curls, lying against soft pale skin that was just beginning to dull. Her eyes, the color of the sky on a cloudless summer day were a little murky but in the right light, still looked clear and bright. Her features were still stunning as it was difficult to disrupt bone structure.
It was like looking in a mirror.
“Well, hey there, girl! Come give your mama a squeeze!” Kelly squealed when she walked through the back door. As soon as she heard the words, Melissa felt a hot knot of dread form in her belly. Grandma Lu was sitting at the kitchen table across from Kelly, smoke curling in the air from the cigarette that dangled from her mother’s mouth. She took a long drag before blowing out a stream of smoke in her direction.
“Well, ain’tcha gonna say nothin’?” Kelly said, her pretty mouth poking out in a gesture Melissa was sure usually got her whatever she wanted. Lucy looked scared but she gave a slight nod, silently urging her to speak to her mother.
It was the first time Melissa could remember wanting to defy her.
“What’s the matter; she didn’t teach you no manners?” Pouting hadn’t worked so an edge crept into Kelly’s voice, hard and sharp. “She been tellin’ you lies about me?”
Melissa set her backpack on the counter and turned toward the woman that called herself her mother and opened her mouth, not sure what was going to come out, praying that whatever it was, wouldn’t embarrass her grandmother. “No, I’m surprised to see you is all.” She felt lame; introducing herself to her own mother, as she put out her hand to be shaken. “We’ve never met, I’m Melissa.”
Kelly let out a high-pitched peel of laughter as she crushed out the cigarette in her hand, using the cake plate in front of her rather than the ashtray her grandmother had undoubtedly provided. “Well, ain’t you proper? I bet this one just loves you,” Kelly said, jerking her head toward Lucy as she stood, a sour expression on her lovely face. Melissa felt her breath catch in her throat, strangling her. Her mother was obviously pregnant; her rounded belly jutting out from her perfectly shaped hips.
Melissa’s eyes flew to her grandmother’s face and she felt a lump form in the back of her throat. Lucy sat quietly, her hands folded on the table in front of her as she returned her gaze. Looking at her, one word formed in Melissa’s mind and threatened to bring tears to her eyes.
Grace.
Throughout this entire ordeal, not just the fourteen years that Melissa had been alive but the nearly thirty years she’d been the mother of Kelly Jean Walker, her grandmother had managed to keep her grace. How was a mystery to Melissa but knowing that she had filled her with pride and in that moment, Melissa was awestruck by her grandmother’s strength.
The hand that hung in the air between them was ignored as Kelly threw her arms around her and squeezed her tight, the swollen mound of her belly making it awkward. As she felt the hard press of flesh between them, Melissa suddenly realized what she was feeling. Her sibling, a brother or sister, trapped in that body.
Defenseless. Alone.
It was the exact moment she realized that when Kelly left, she’d be leaving with her.
SHE could hear Lucy moving down the hall, pulling her away from the memory. “Well, now,” her grandma said as she came through the doorway. “I wasn’t expecting to see you today.” Lucy smiled, patting her cheek as she passed the table where she sat, on her way to the coffee pot.
“I had some stuff to do,” she said, forking a bite of lemon pound cake into her mouth to discourage questions. “Are you busy today?”
Lucy chuckled, carrying her cup to the table to sit down across from her. “Mrs. Steiger gained back forty of those fifty pounds she lost on that crash diet she was on. I’ve got a pile of slacks and four Sunday dresses that need to be let out; along with a moth-eaten wool coat she swears she can’t live without, though I’ve never seen her wear it.” The amusement in her grandmother’s eyes faded away as soon as she sat down, her gaze finally resting on her face. “What happened?” she said, her tone no longer light.
She picked up her fork again and used it to mash moist, yellow crumbs into the plate in front of her. “Nothing… specific. Kelly was particularly horrible this morning is all,” she said, giving her a shrug. It felt wrong, complaining about her mother to Lucy. She’d made the choice to move in with her, against her grandma’s wishes. To whine about it now was ridiculous
“Girl—you are a terrible liar.” Lucy lifted her cup to her mouth and took a drink, waiting for her to tell her the truth. When she didn’t, she set the cup back down, reaching out a hand to wrap it around her wrist to stop her from mashing the entire slice of cake as flat as a piece of paper. “You tell me what’s going on—right now, Melissa Jean.”
She looked up from the plate in front of her, intending to lie. Her grandmother was right—she was terrible at it but what could Lucy do? Instead she dropped the fork, twisting her hand inside the old lady’s grasp to hold onto her. She told her everything, starting with the scene Jed had made at the diner the night before and ending with the painfully awkward car ride with Wade.
Lucy listened quietly, careful to keep her face composed. She’d always been like that. Like a sponge—absorbing messes and spills without complaint. When she ran out of words, Lucy patted her wrist and sat back in her chair, pulling herself from her grip. Before she even opened her mouth, Melissa knew what she would tell her to do.
“I can’t, grandma.” She pushed her chair back and stood, walking her half-eaten plate of cake to the trashcan. “I won’t, so don’t even say it,” she said, scraping her fork against the plate. The cake peeled off of it in one bright yellow clump. Her grandmother wanted her to go to her father for help.
“Okay, Miss I-Can-Handle-It, do you have a better idea?” Lucy folded careful fingers on top of the table and glared at her. “Because, from where I’m sitting, helping you is his job, on multiple levels.”
She was quiet for a few moments, probably one or two too long because her grandmother hissed out a pain-filled breath. “Melissa Jean don’t you even think it.”
“I can’t stay there anymore,” she said, setting her plate gently into the bottom of the sink. “It’s not safe.” She turned quickly, quicker than Lucy had expected her to. She caught the tremble of her mouth an instant before she pressed it into a grim line. “For them or for me.”
“Then you’ll come here,” Lucy said in that matter-of-fact way she had. The one that told her there was no use in arguing. “You’ll bring Jason and Riley here and I’ll petition the court for custody. I’ll get a lawyer—”
She thought of the trucker at table six—Pete. The way he’d watched her. Looked at her while he touched her mother. Running away to her elderly grandmother’s house wouldn’t stop him. But she couldn’t say that. She couldn’t tell Lucy that she wasn’t strong enough to protect her.
“You can’t afford a lawyer, Grandma,” she said instead, trying her best to be gentle. “Neither of us can.”
“You’ll come here,” Lucy repeated stubbornly, pushing her own chair away from the table to stand, facing her down. “You’ll come home—where you belong.”
Melissa sighed and nodded her head. “Okay, Grandma,” she said. “Okay.”
Every time she told a lie, it got easier. She sounded so convincing, so relaxed that for a moment, even she believed the words rolling off her tongue.
Pretty soon, she’d be a professional.
TEN
SHE WAS QUIET ON the way home, listening to her grandmother make plans. Nodding her head and smiling at the appropriate times while she made plans of her own.
Tomorrow was Sunday and the bank was closed. When she’d opened the acc
ount, she’d declined a debit card, not wanting her mother to find it. Now, she regretted it. It meant she’d have to wait until the bank opened on Monday morning to close her account.
The car rocked gently on its axils as they pulled close to the curb in front of Mrs. Kirkland’s tidy trailer house and she got out to collect the twins. It was after seven which meant she was late but Mrs. Kirkland didn’t seem to mind—the extra twenty Melissa slipped into her hand along with her weekly payment didn’t hurt.
Putting the diaper bag in the back and Riley on the seat between them, Melissa held Jason on her lap on the short ride home. She’d have to think about buying a car once they got where they were going which meant car seats for two. So many expenses she never really considered… instead of worrying about it, she buried her face in Jason soft coppery hair and took a deep breath. He smelled clean, like Mrs. Kirkland had given him a bath. A new babysitter—just one more thing she’d have to find once she left this place.
“That man your mother’s got her claws in—Pete.” Lucy said, taking the long way through the park, giving herself a few extra minutes. “He got a bad tattoo of a spider on the back of his hand?”
Melissa could see it, muddled and thick, cheap ink bled into the skin of his hand when he grabbed her. “Yes.” She nodded.
“That’s Pete Conners. He grew up here—went to school with your mama. I heard he was back but I’d hoped it was nothing more than a nasty rumor.” Lucy pulled into the shallow dirt drive next to their trailer and put the car into park. “I’ll wait while you pack,” Lucy said, her jaw set a stubborn angle.
Melissa smiled. “Grandma, I have to work a double tomorrow,” she said, thankful that this time she was able to tell her grandmother the truth. “Monday, okay? That’ll give me time to pack up and give Dale notice. I’ll call you Monday.”
Lucy looked skeptical for a moment, like she was going to argue with her. Like she knew she was lying but then she looked past her and something like relief passed over her face. Melissa looked over her shoulder in the same direction as her grandmother. Behind her, Michael O’Shea was sitting on her plywood and cinderblock porch like he’d been waiting for her to come home.
“Hello, Michael, how’s your sister?” Lucy said like they were old friends. Like it wasn’t at all odd that he would be sitting in the dark outside her house.
Michael offered Lucy the kind of smile Melissa had never seen him wear before—open and genuine. “She’s really good, Mrs. Walker. I wish she’d stop growing so fast,” he said, shifting his gaze from Lucy’s face to hers for just a moment. “Need some help?”
It was an echo of the question he’d asked her earlier only this time he seemed to know she couldn’t refuse him without upsetting her grandmother. Still… “No, I can—”
“Nonsense,” her grandmother said, her tone shutting down her refusal before it even really began. Lucy leaned across the seat, answering him through the open passenger window. “If you could grab the diaper bag, you’d be a world of help.” She smiled her approval when Michael stood to do as she asked. “This old woman is tired right down to her bones.”
“Manners,” Lucy hissed at her under her breath as he pulled the rear door open behind her and shouldered the bag on the back seat. Then he opened her door and stood back for her to exit. For a split instant she considered slamming it closed so she could open it herself. Instead she leaned over and dropped a kiss on her grandmother’s soft cheek. “I love you,” she said before she started to scoot across the seat. Lucy caught her by her wrist, anchoring her inside the car.
“If something happens…” she looked past her, over her shoulder, at the dilapidated trailer. “You’ll call him.”
For a moment, Melissa thought she meant Michael but then she understood. Lucy was talking about her father again. She sighed. “Grandma—”
“Promise me.” Lucy tightened her grip on her wrist. “You promise me right now, Melissa Jean or I’m gonna go in there and—”
“Okay,” she looked her grandmother in the eye and nodded. “Okay. I promise.”
Lucy smiled and let her go, watching her slide across the bench seat to stand in the dirt next to Michael, Jason riding her hip. Without asking he bent down, the bag slung over his back and held his hand out to Riley.
“She won’t come to you. She likes to walk on her—”
Riley took Michael’s hand and let him pull her into his arms, as easy breathing. He hefted her onto his hip and she laid a sleepy head on his shoulder. He shot her a smirk over Riley’s head.
Asshole. Fighting the urge to say it out loud, she gave her grandmother a final wave and mounted the shaky steps. Michael and Riley followed behind.
She opened the front door, holding it for Michael to pass through before shutting it. Smoke drifted toward her from the living room where a burning cigarette glowed in the dark. The tip of it brightened for a moment, following another stream of smoke blown in their direction. It was too dark for her to see who it was but she knew it was Pete. He was waiting for her. Despite herself, she was glad Michael was with her.
Leaving Pete behind, she stepped left, entering the kitchen area. The trash can was lying on its side in the middle of the room, empty beer cans and fast food wrappers strew across the floor. Half-eaten food and trash cluttered the counters. Dirty dishes piled high in the sink. It looked as if someone had trashed it on purpose.
“Sorry,” she muttered as she shuffled her way through the mess, her cheeks stinging with embarrassment. “It was clean when I left this morning.”
“Don’t apologize,” Michael said following behind her. His voice sounded strange. Tight, like he could barely move his jaw to form the words. She didn’t have to look at him to know he was angry.
She led him down the hall to her room. The twins usually slept in the small room next to hers but not tonight. Not with Pete around. She looked around her room with its saggy mattress and stained carpet. The dingy walls and threadbare sheet that served as a curtain over her window. Nothing like the nice, clean home he grew up in.
The sting of embarrassment deepened into near mortification but he didn’t seem to notice. After laying Riley down, he waited for her to do the same with Jason. When it was done, they stood there for a few moments, drowning in awkward silence. Aside from Tommy, she’d never allowed another boy into her room before.
“I need help,” blurted out. Before she could think better of it, she dug into her purse and pulled out the security chain she’d bought earlier. “The man at the hardware store said it’d be easy to install on my own but I don’t even have...”
Michael looked past her, gazed fixed and steady on the wall behind her like he could see through it. Like he could see Pete sitting in the living room and knew he was the reason she’d bought the lock. He reached into the back pocket of his jeans and pulled out what looked like a large pocket knife.
“Let me see it,” he said, gesturing for the lock and she handed it over. The pocket knife turned out to be a multi-tool. Michael opened the Phillips-head and had her new lock installed in less than ten minutes.
He closed the multi-tool. “Here,” he said, handing it to her. “I’ve got another one.” He offered her a small smile before he exited, leaving her alone.
She shut her door, setting the multi-tool on her nightstand. Sliding the new chain in place, she stepped out of her waitressing uniform, exchanging it for a baggy T-shirt and a pair of worn flannel pants with faded yellow stars on them.
Jason and Riley were already asleep so she clicked off the bedside lamp and shut the door behind her. Back in the kitchen, she found Michael leaning against the kitchen counter, staring into the darkened pit of her living room, hands dug into the pockets of his jeans.
“What are you doing here?” she said, trying to distract him. Without thinking, she started to clean the mess that’d been made while she was gone.
“It’s my birthday.”
She stopped cleaning. Looked away from him and listened. Music—80�
�s glam rock—floated toward her from down the hall. Under the music she could hear it. Grunts and moans. The rhythmic banging of her mother’s headboard against the thin trailer wall. If she stood still enough, if she closed her eyes, she could almost feel the trailer sway around her with the force of it.
Her mother was open for business.
“Oh,” she said, dumping the armful of beer cans she held against her chest into the trash can. “Happy birthday.”
“An old buddy of mine thought I’d want to…” he shook his head, unable to meet her gaze. “That’s not why I’m here though.”
“It’s none of my business,” she said, tossing an empty vodka bottle into the garbage hard enough to shatter it. The sound of it breaking was oddly satisfying. “Why should you be any different from the other five hundred men who live in this town?”
“I’ve never—” He rubbed a hand across his mouth, muttering something to himself before shaking his head. “Look—I came here to make sure you’re okay before I leave, that’s all,” he said. “Are you? Okay?”
Behind him, the tip of Pete’s cigarette glowed cherry-red in the dark. Smoke drifted through the gloom. He was watching. Listening. Waiting for Michael to leave.
“I’m fine,” she waved a hand around the kitchen before throwing a half-eaten fast food hamburger in the direction of the garbage can. “Can’t you tell?”
He laughed but he didn’t sound amused. He sounded like he understood. Hearing it reminded her of what Wade had told her about him. About the drug overdose and how his birth mother had died. How he’d lived before Sophia and Sean O’Shea had opened their home to him. Made him a part of their family.
“You’re leaving?” she said, expecting to feel relief. She didn’t. What she felt was angry. “Didn’t you just get here?”
“Yeah, but… coming home was a mistake.” He was having a hard time looking at her again. “It’s not my home anymore. Stopped being my home when they died.”
They. He was talking about his parents.
Waiting In Darkness: A Sabrina Vaughn Thriller (The Sabrina Vaughn Series Book 1) Page 6
