Making Her Way Home

by Janice Kay Johnson

“I didn’t like it. I didn’t like him.”

  Beth was torn between tears and laughter. The laughter won. “He didn’t give you much reason to like him, did he?”

  “It’s fine for you to go home,” the doctor concluded, “assuming you can get by the mob out there.” He smiled at Sicily. “Take care, young lady.” His eyes met Beth’s. “You might take her to her pediatrician for a follow-up in a few days.”

  “Yes.” At least they had a pediatrician. Beth had to find one first thing when Sicily came to live with her, since the school insisted on vaccines for which no records existed. “I’ll do that.”

  Sicily rode out in a wheelchair, Mike and Beth a protective step behind her. Beth had to stop to provide her insurance information, and then asked Mike, “Will you stay with her while I go get my car?”

  “I’d rather drive you home.” He held out a hand. “Give me your keys, and I’ll have someone drive your car.” He nodded toward the conglomeration of cops. “They might as well make themselves useful.”

  Feeling giddy, Beth laughed, hesitating only a moment before peeling the car key off her ring, dropping it in his hand and telling him where she was parked.

  Then, with a few hard stares and fewer words, he cleared the way and only the three of them exited the emergency room door into the parking lot and a misty, gray day.

  They were going home.

  Beth was overwhelmed by a huge swell of emotion she couldn’t identify. As Mike and Sicily told her about everything she’d missed, she kept watching their faces. They must have been halfway home before she knew.

  It was hope.

  Choked by astonishment, she caught Mike smiling at Sicily in the rearview mirror, then he turned the smile onto her. The skin beside those blue eyes crinkled and her heart did a peculiar hop, skip and jump. She’d never felt anything quite like that before, either.

  It had to be hope, she thought. A belief that good things could happen. That she could trust someone and have him live up to it, and that maybe Sicily could trust her, Beth, and that she wouldn’t let her niece down.

  At the very least…she wanted to believe, and that was something, wasn’t it?

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  BETH SAT DOWN ON THE EDGE OF Sicily’s bed. She’d never tucked anyone in before. That’s what she was doing, wasn’t it? Before, she’d hovered awkwardly in the doorway to wish Sicily good-night. But that and a whole lot of other things were going to change. They were going to become a family. A real one, the kind other people had.

  Took for granted.

  She’d never made this kind of resolution before but when she set an objective, she was determined.

  “Hey,” she said. “We haven’t known each other that long.”

  Sicily had gotten into bed but sat cross-legged, the covers only pulled over her lap. Loose bandages covered the worst scrapes on her arms and legs. Beth noticed how ratty her pajamas were. That’s another thing we need to buy her.

  “No,” Sicily said, looking wary. “I bet you missed work because of me, huh?”

  Beth’s laugh was choked. “Gee, and that’s the worst thing that ever happened to me.”

  “I missed school, too.” Sicily sounded worried. “I bet I’ve gotten behind.”

  “Unless we send you in a wheelchair, you need to be able to walk before you go back to school,” Beth said firmly. “I’ll leave a message for your teacher Monday. She can email your assignments so you can start catching up. Anyway, I hate to tell you this, but we have something more immediate coming up. All those police officers and FBI agents insist on talking to you again.”

  “Oh.” She thought about it. “I guess that’s okay.” Sicily picked at the covers. “When I go back to school, will all the kids know what happened?”

  “I’m afraid so.”

  “Oh.” She pondered that, then shrugged. “They’ll get over it.”

  Beth found herself laughing again. Laughing felt easier than it ever had. She was giddy with relief.

  “You’re right,” she said. “They will. Hey, you’ll be a heroine.”

  Sicily’s usually solemn expression lightened. “I guess I kind of am, aren’t I?”

  Driven by sudden impulse, Beth leaned forward and hugged her. “Yeah, you are.”

  Sicily didn’t melt into her, and Beth straightened pretty quickly, but still it had felt good.

  “Do you feel really bad about him being your father?”

  “Mike—Detective Ryan—said he isn’t really. That’s what Mom said, too.” She scrunched up her nose. “Because he didn’t actually want me. Until he figured somebody would pay for me, I guess.” She was trying to sound as if it didn’t matter, but Beth could tell it did.

  “My father wasn’t much of a dad, either.”

  Sicily’s eyes fastened on Beth’s face. “Mom said that, too. Sometimes. And then she’d get drunk and say she was Daddy’s little girl only it was really hard for him because a divorce would look bad and he couldn’t put his family first.”

  Beth couldn’t quite suppress her snort.

  Sicily frowned. “She said your mom was mean.”

  “Yes. She was abusive. She hurt us both and our father wouldn’t do anything about it.”

  “Did he see?”

  “She never hit us or burned us or anything in front of him. But I told him. I tried to tell him,” she corrected herself. “He refused to hear it, even though he knew how often Mom had to take one of us to the emergency room with broken bones or infected burns or whatever. He didn’t care.” It felt cleansing to say that out loud: my father didn’t care. She had never told anyone about the abuse until Mike. Now she’d lost track of how many people knew. Why did I keep it a secret so long? she wondered.

  The scrutiny of those big eyes was almost unnerving, but Sicily finally nodded. “So how come you and Mom aren’t more alike?” A ripple of emotion puckered her forehead. “I mean, why weren’t you more alike?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe we wouldn’t have been no matter what. Siblings often have different personalities. I might have been born—” Stronger. Startled, Beth examined the thought. She rarely considered herself in a positive light. Her life had been shaped by too much shame, but now she let herself believe. No, she hadn’t been strong enough to save Rachel, but ultimately she had made something of herself. She hadn’t let their parents utterly destroy her the way her sister had.

  “Born what?” Sicily asked.

  “I was trying to think of the right word,” Beth lied. “Maybe there isn’t one. Only that we reacted differently to what happened. I was determined never to let anyone hurt me again. I wanted to be financially successful so I didn’t need anyone else. Your mom still needed other people.”

  “She called my grandparents a lot. She still needed them.”

  “I didn’t know that,” Beth said. She shook off the sadness.

  “Other people, too. Guys.” The ten-year-old’s expression said yuck.

  “Yeah.” Beth’s smile felt a little shaky. “You, too.”

  “She did need me.” Sicily looked satisfied, but also…something.

  Maybe, Beth thought, Sicily knew in her heart that her mother had needed her and used her in ways that weren’t right.

  “The biggest difference between us,” Beth said, reasoning out something else she’d never put into words before, “is that she could still love other people, and believe they might love her.”

  Those amazing, all-too-knowing eyes widened. “You don’t?”

  “I…didn’t.” Oh, boy. A marble had lodged in
her throat, and even if she got it down it was going to be indigestible. Somehow she managed another smile. “I guess I’m ready to give it a shot.”

  “Because of me.”

  She nodded, although Mike was in her head, too. Had he meant what he’d said? He’d seen deeper into her than she’d ever let anyone see before. Seen her at her worst, she guessed, but she also suspected real emotions didn’t spring from seeing people only at their best.

  “I thought maybe you didn’t really want me,” Sicily admitted.

  “You were wrong.” Although it was hard, Beth took her hand and squeezed. “I’m not very good at showing how I feel sometimes. Losing you…” She couldn’t help the shudder. “It made me realize I needed to tell you how much I do want you.”

  Sicily’s eyes filled with tears and she abruptly launched herself at Beth, whose arms opened as if by instinct and then closed about the sobbing girl.

  “I miss Mom…but in the basement I kept thinking…she wouldn’t even know how to do anything…and maybe she wouldn’t…but I knew you would,” she finished on a wail.

  “Oh, sweetie.” Beth found herself rocking the distraught girl. Her own eyes burned. “I think your mom might have surprised you.” She wanted to believe that, and it wouldn’t hurt if Sicily did, would it? “But you and I… We’re going to do okay, aren’t we? Better than okay.”

  Sicily nodded hard, her blond hair tickling Beth’s nose. She didn’t cry long; Beth suspected she hardly ever did. Her mother had been dramatic enough for both of them. No, this practical, take-charge kid would have begun refusing to indulge in displays of emotion before she started kindergarten.

  Eventually, settling back, she said, “At least I know what my dad’s like now. I won’t keep wondering.”

  Beth nodded. The matter-of-fact statement made her think about Mike, about how she had told him that the worst was not knowing. The expression on his face had been pained. Wondering was bad, but knowing wasn’t so great, either, not when the reality wasn’t what you’d yearned for.

  She wished she was the kind of person who could have easily said, “I love you,” before kissing Sicily good-night. But then she realized that, in a way, she’d already said it. And…it would get easier, wouldn’t it?

  So she settled for patting Sicily’s leg through the covers and saying, “Once your feet are healed, we’re going shopping. You need new clothes. And I am not taking my eyes off you for a second, so be ready for me to come into the dressing room with you.”

  Sicily giggled, so maybe that was the right thing to say. Beth’s chest felt lighter when she stood, said good-night and turned out the light.

  * * *

  MIKE THOUGHT ALL AFTERNOON about Beth and Sicily, but he had to give them time. Didn’t mean he couldn’t call, though. And he’d see them tomorrow for questioning. Nothing would have kept him away even if he wasn’t the lead on this kidnapping anymore. If Sicily or Beth got too stressed, he’d cut the interview off with no hesitation.

  He waited until almost nine, figuring Sicily would be in bed. Beth answered on the third ring, sounding slightly breathless as if she’d hurried for the phone.

  “Did I get you at a bad time?” he asked.

  “No, I was saying good-night to Sicily.”

  Was that bemusement in her voice? Intrigued, he asked, “Everything okay?”

  “Yes. Really okay. I think I’m floating two feet off the floor.”

  “Too bad Sicily can’t. It’d save wear and tear on her feet.”

  Her laugh took a painful bite out of his heart muscle.

  “That would be nice, wouldn’t it?” After a moment, she asked, “Did you finally get to go home?”

  “I decided to work the rest of the day. I’m due some time off, but I’ll save it.” Until I can spend it with you. “I took on a new investigation right before Sicily went missing. It’s been eating at me a little. So I went back to it today.”

  She made an interested sound, so he told her about J. N. Sullivan Landscaping and the alleged theft of $200,000 worth of landscaping equipment. Ruliczkowski had confirmed that Mike’s suspicions about the financial stability of the landscaping service were right on.

  “I did a door-to-door today,” he said.

  That caused a little pool of silence. “Like you did in my neighborhood.”

  “Uh…yeah.” Sometimes he forgot the landmines waiting to trip him up.

  “Did you learn anything?”

  “Plenty.” What he found wasn’t unexpected; many of the neighbors said, “Who?” when he asked about the Sullivans. With houses on acreage like that and no shared driveways, folks had no reason to know each other. A lot of those people who chose to live where they didn’t have to see their neighbors didn’t want to know them.

  The sign at the head of the driveway, though, that said J. N. Sullivan Landscaping Services helped. It helped a lot. Pretty much everyone nodded when Mike mentioned it—oh, yeah, older guy? And they’d seen the wife coming and going.

  Mike hit pay dirt at the tenth house, a good half mile down the road. Turned out that by chance the woman had chatted with Sullivan’s wife while both were getting gas at the tiny, old-fashioned grocery and gas station that served this rural area. Therefore she knew they’d be in Ocean Shores for a couple of weeks. But she distinctly remembered seeing John the week before last, coming out of his driveway pulling one of his trailers with the big tractor on it.

  “So I was surprised to see him,” she said. And yes, she knew it was that week, because it was right before she saw on the news that a little girl disappeared at the county park down the road.

  Mike told Beth, “Once I had a witness, the guy crumbled. He had the attitude that defrauding the big bad insurance company was okay. He’s in deep trouble now.”

  They talked for a long time. About the case, about ethics, about his job and hers. He was surprised when he glanced at the clock and realized it was nearly ten.

  As if realizing the same, Beth said, “This thing in the morning? Please tell me you don’t think it’ll go on for hours.”

  “I won’t let it.” He made sure she heard the steel in his voice.

  “I’m so glad you’ll be here. Sicily is, too. She seems to have…taken to you.”

  “Good,” he said, softly but with clear intent. “I’ll see you in the morning, Beth.”

  “Yes.”

  Mike frowned. “Forgot to ask. Did you talk to your parents?”

  “My father. Very briefly. Agent Trenor had called him, which was nice of her. He wanted to know how his granddaughter was.”

  “Did he say anything about the scene the other day?”

  “No, and I don’t suppose he ever will.” She paused. “Sicily said Rachel called home a lot. She wanted them to love her.”

  “Where our parents are concerned, I’m not sure we ever grow up.”

  “No. Are yours alive?”

  “Yeah. My mom and dad are good people.” He didn’t have to wonder whether they’d accept Beth. Mom would see immediately beneath her defenses. She would chatter and next thing Beth would know they’d be working side by side in the kitchen. Beth would be telling her life story and feeling like she’d been hit by a bus. Mom, he thought, would see her wounds and love her.

  Mom hadn’t been crazy about Ellen. He’d been young and dumb enough to feel resentful instead of thinking, huh, wonder why?

  Mom hadn’t been able to understand why he wouldn’t fall in lov
e again and get married and produce grandkids. She’d grieved for him and for Nate, but wanted him to be happy.

  Mom would love Sicily, too.

  He and Beth said good-night, but she was all he could think about while he got ready for bed. I want to take her home to Mom and Dad. He shook his head over the last thought. Am I off my rocker?

  No.

  He dreamed about Nate. Even in the dream, as he plunged in the water he didn’t know for sure if he were searching for Nate or Sicily. But this time an errant ray of sunlight seemed to penetrate the depths and he saw Nate’s face. Empty, dead. He was sinking, farther and farther away, and Mike was so frantic for air he knew he wouldn’t be able to get his hands on his son. He woke sitting up in bed gasping for air. Groaning, he wrenched at his hair. What the hell did that mean? Did he need constant reminders that he hadn’t been able to save his own child? God.

  Why couldn’t he dream about Nate when he had been alive? Good dreams, like pushing him on the swing set Mike had built from a kit. Watching his laughing face as he went down the blue plastic slide, shooting into his daddy’s hands. Why couldn’t he dream about nights of walking baby Nate to his crib, or the first smiles? His face covered with green chocolate-mint ice cream, his chortle every time they saw Mrs. Llewlyn’s dachshund in one of those sweaters?

  His chest ached. Those memories were painful, too. As bad. Maybe this version of the nightmare had been meant to tell him Nate was finally leaving him.

  For the first time ever, he thought he was ready to accept that. It was time. Trust and love would be hard for Beth—he didn’t want to think impossible. He needed to be strong and steady for her. Healed.

  Yeah. He was ready.

  * * *

  DETECTIVE RYAN ARRIVED THE next morning before anyone else. Aunt Beth seemed glad to see him, which relaxed Sicily. He strolled into the kitchen as if he felt practically as at home as she did and said hopefully, “Coffee on?”

  Aunt Beth reached into the cupboard for a mug. “Somebody didn’t get enough sleep?”