by Dawn Atkins
David felt glued to the spot, electrified into stone. His mother and Marcus were…together. That meant sex, too. They’d hidden this from him. Scammed him. Marcus probably told his mother everything David said and the two of them laughed at David behind his back.
He felt like he had to puke. He’d been betrayed, lied to. First about his dad. Then about Marcus. Marcus had lied, too. That hurt worse. Marcus had been his friend. His. Not Christine’s. Nothing was his. Nothing and no one.
Even worse, Lady was lying in the shade beside the two of them. Even the dog had abandoned him. Before they could see him, David spun away and headed for his room, sick with hurt.
Except, as he ran, a golden idea came into his mind. He had his dad. His father would understand this betrayal more than anyone, since Christine had betrayed him, too. His dad wanted to see him. Anytime, he’d said. Anytime. So how about now? After the lies Christine had told him, it would serve her right if David went to live in San Diego, which was a great place. He’d learn to surf and fish, water-ski, maybe sail. David had a ride into Preston tomorrow with the twins. Did he have enough cash for the bus fare from there?
It was a possibility, at least. Just thinking about it eased his agony a bit, enough to keep him from smashing his hand into a wall, his head through a window. For now anyway.
CHRISTINE HEADED FOR THE house to take a shower. She’d taken a chance, kissing Marcus right out in the open. David was in New Mirage, but still, they’d sworn to be discreet. Were they losing control? It seemed that way at times. They loved each other and they wanted more time together. But they’d avoided discussing how that might work out, just floated on this cloud, which was not smart at all, not like either of them. She had this scary feeling in the pit of her stomach that they were making a big mistake, that there would be a huge crash at the end, but then she’d kissed him like it was the right thing to do. Worse, he’d kissed her back the same way.
Her biggest worry was David’s reaction.
Marcus wanted to tell him, but Christine thought it was too soon. David had bonded with Marcus. Learning that Christine and Marcus were a couple might damage his progress, cause him to backslide. Christine couldn’t bear that.
In the back of her head, she was thinking, What if the affair didn’t last? What if their love burned itself out in the weeks before they both headed home, or even after that, while they tried to hold on to it from separate cities? If it ended, they would have upset David for nothing.
She didn’t say that to Marcus. He would think she wasn’t “all in” the way he was. And maybe she wasn’t. The thought made her heart sink and her stomach burn. She didn’t know what she felt. This was so new for her. She didn’t trust it at all.
Being with Marcus in any permanent way felt so impossible. How would they manage it? Would he move to Phoenix? Would she drag David to L.A.? That seemed as insane to her as Aurora and Bogie expecting her to stay at Harmony House.
It made her head hurt, so she tried not to think about it, focused on enjoying the moment, though more and more gray worry clouded her sunny days. She was holding her breath to see what happened, praying no one would end up heartbroken.
When she got to her room, she heard David’s music very loud, then saw the pass-through door was open. He must have left it like that when he got the money.
When she went to close the door, she noticed David was lying on his bed. Not in New Mirage. Huh? Immediately, she picked up spicy smoke, like a basket burning, and knew what it was. Sure enough, David brought a skinny cigarette to his lips and took a drag. He was smoking marijuana.
Electricity shot through her and she marched into his room “David!” she said, scared and worried and mad.
He sat up, startled at first, then he settled into angry defiance. “Don’t you knock?”
“The door was open, but so what? You’re doing drugs!”
“I’m not doing drugs. I’m sucking in a bit of herb,” he said in a fake cool voice. “After what you did to me I deserve a big fat blunt and then some.” His eyes were red and puffy. In fact, he looked like he’d been crying, too.
“Where did you get the dope? Did you buy it from the twins? Is that what you wanted the money for? To buy drugs?”
“I didn’t buy it. I got it from Bogie. Free.”
“Bogie gave you marijuana?”
“No. And don’t go yell at him. I took a few buds from his grow room without telling him. No big deal. He wouldn’t mind.”
“You stole from Bogie? That’s his medicine.” She was horrified, shaking with outrage. David was completely unapologetic. He’d never been this defiant.
“He’s got plenty. He doesn’t care. And pot’s no big deal.” He took a deliberate, slow puff, daring her to object.
“It’s a big deal to me. A very big deal. You promised me you quit. You promised Aurora no drugs. You lied!”
His eyes flashed sudden fury. “No, you lied. You lie to me every day of my life.” He lunged at her, looking like he wanted to strike her.
“What are you talking about?”
He was breathing hard, staring at her, making his hands into fists. “You and Marcus,” he finally spat out. “I wanted to talk to Marcus about something important and I saw you out at the pump with him.” His face twisted with disgust.
“Oh.” Embarrassment swamped her. He’d seen the kiss. “I’m sorry, David. We shouldn’t have done that. We thought it was best not to say anything to you at first.”
“So, did he tell you everything I said to him? Am I a big joke to you?”
“Of course not. Your talks with Marcus are private.”
“Yeah, right. Like I can believe a word you ever tell me.” His voice cracked. His face flared with fury, his eyes burning at her. “You take away everyone I have ever cared about. You took away my father, you dragged me from Brigitte and now you stole Marcus. You’re sick, you know that? Twisted! What do you want? To lock me up in a box? Control me and everyone around me?”
“Of course not. I only want—”
“I don’t care what you say. It’s too late. I’ll live where I want and love who I want and you can’t stop me! It’s my life! Mine!” He was shrieking now, his face red, a vein bulging from his forehead, spit flying.
“What are you talking about?” This was too extreme a reaction. There had to be more. “I can see why you’d be upset about me with Marcus, but where is all this hate coming from?”
“Like you don’t know,” he said with a bitter smile.
“This doesn’t sound like you at all. Is it the marijuana? Is it because you’re high?”
He snorted. “I don’t sound like me because you don’t even know me. You made up some kid I’ll never be. No matter what I do. It’s too late.” Now his voice shook with tears. “Just leave me alone,” he sobbed. “Leave!”
She started to refuse to go, but she remembered what Marcus had said about how to handle David’s anger. She took a slow breath, fighting her alarm, her urge to talk this through, to force a fix, resolve it.
“I can hear how furious you are right now. I’ll leave, but not for long. We need to talk about this. For now, you need to know that what happened between Marcus and me doesn’t change how I feel about you. And Marcus is still your friend. We both care for you and we both want the best for you—”
“Yeah, right,” he said, his sarcasm sharp as a blade. “I bet you do. You want the best for me because you’re the perfect mother. Thanks so much. I’m sooo glad.”
She retreated from his room and shut the door, sick inside and so scared. She’d let her own selfish needs take precedence over David’s problems and look what happened.
She’d been right to expect a crash. It was even worse than she expected.
David was smoking pot again. Not even hiding it. Because of her being with Marcus. She’d never seen him so angry. What had she done?
THE FIGHT WITH HIS MOTHER had made David feel even more certain of his plan, full of fire and confidence. He wouldn’t wai
t for the ride to Preston in the morning. He would leave now. He’d practiced driving with the twins, so he’d take his mom’s car to Preston and catch a bus to San Diego from there.
One last thing. He needed more cash since he’d spent too much on that stupid festival ticket. He knew who to ask.
He found his grandmother in the clay barn working at one of the wheels. He dropped onto a stool beside her, forcing himself to sound calm and easy.
“What’s got your boxers in a twist?” she said to him. How did she know he was upset? She hadn’t even looked at him.
“Christine. We had a fight.”
“What’d she do now?”
“Everything. She lied to me about my whole life. About my dad. Just…everything.” He couldn’t talk about this or he might cry like a baby. “She wants me to be someone I can’t be and I’m sick of it. I’m sick of her.”
Aurora nailed him with a look. “You two are so alike.”
The idea horrified him. “No way. I’m not one bit like her.”
“You have strong ideas about how things ought to be and when they’re not, you get mad as hell.”
“I’m not like her at all,” he repeated. “She’s hopeless.”
“Christine never cut me any slack, either.” She sighed.
“This is different. Way different.”
“Wait until you’re on your own, David. You’ll understand things a lot better about your mother and about yourself.”
“When I’m on my own, sure,” he said softly. Had she guessed he was leaving? His grandmother could be spooky psychic.
She ran a wet piece of sponge over the rim of the bowl she was working on, widening it evenly, making it look so easy.
“Grab some clay. We’ll work on your technique,” she said. “Cool your jets some.”
“Not today.” He’d ended up with a messy blob of sloppy clay the last time she tried to show him. “But can I borrow some money? I’ll pay you back.” When, though, he had no idea.
She didn’t look up. “How much you need?”
“Just a hundred.” That should cover the bus ticket and maybe some for a cab to his dad’s place if his dad wasn’t able to get to the bus station right off. He had some of his gig pay for food.
“Grab it out of the cash register. Key’s under the pad,” she said.
He felt a flood of love for her. She’d said yes without demanding to know what it was for. She was a great person, no matter what Christine said. She was as wrong about his grandmother as she was about his dad.
He got the money, then came back to say goodbye. He watched her run her fingers lovingly over the wet gray curve of the bowl. He thought of all the love she rubbed into the dishes and mugs and cups and bowls they all used and didn’t appreciate, carelessly tossing them around, banging them in the sink, not even caring if they cracked or broke.
But Aurora kept on, no matter whether or not anyone appreciated what she’d created. A strong tangle of feelings twisted through him—love and pity and guilt and sadness. He wanted to hug her, but Aurora wasn’t like that, he knew. “Thanks,” was all he could choke out. He turned and ran.
He would miss her a lot. Now that he knew Marcus was a traitor, she was the only one who understood him. Bogie was cool, but he shrank back so much, like he wasn’t good enough to talk to you or something.
David fought past the choked feeling in his throat. He should be dead-on thrilled. Soon he’d be with the person who would understand him best of all. His dad, who would love David for who he was, not some made-up perfect kid like with his mom.
All he had to do was throw crap in his backpack, grab his guitar, the keys and the Volvo, and he’d be out of there. Off to his real life at last.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
SUPPER WAS READY AND David was not at the table. “I’m going after him,” Christine said to Marcus, shooting him a glare. He’d refused to talk to David right after the fight, even though she’d told him she’d never seen David this hateful.
He needs time to regroup and process this, Marcus had said. So maddening. Sometimes time was the last thing people needed. Marcus hadn’t even been that flipped out about the marijuana. He seemed concerned, not alarmed.
On top of that he’d done everything short of say I told you so about keeping their relationship secret from David for so long. In short, Christine was as frustrated with Marcus as she was scared and worried about David.
“Would you like me to talk to him?” Marcus asked quietly.
“Not if you think he needs more time,” she said. She noticed the residents had reacted to her sharp tone. “If you wouldn’t mind, that would be great,” she said more politely.
But before he left the dining room, Aurora stuck her head in from the kitchen. “The Barlow kids are out here. Something about David? They want to talk to you.”
Christine headed into the kitchen, Marcus behind her.
Todd and Robert stood inside the door, looking nervous. “This is weird,” Todd said, “but David wanted us to come over and tell you some stuff.” He dipped his head.
“Like what?” she demanded, taking a step closer.
“He, um, left. To go to his dad’s. He said your car will be at the bus station in Preston with the key in the magnetic box under the wheel well.”
“What? He’s going to— He knows where his father is?” She sucked in air, feeling dizzy. “That’s not possible.”
“He found the number you had and called it.”
But where— Then she remembered the message slip with Skip’s contact information. She’d left it in her address book where she’d sent David for the money he’d hounded her for.
“Oh, God.”
“He said not to call or e-mail ’cause he won’t answer.”
“When did he leave?” she asked, fear pouring through her.
“He’s on the bus by now. Almost there. He said we had to wait until suppertime to tell you so you can’t stop him. Sorry.” Todd shrugged.
“He was just really pissed,” Robert added, “so he’ll probably call and say he’s sorry and all.”
“If he calls you, will you let me know?” Christine asked, her throat so tight she could hardly get out words.
The boys nodded solemnly. “He sort of flipped out, so maybe he’ll change his mind when he calms down,” Robert said.
The boys turned and left.
“I guess that’s what the money was for,” Aurora mused.
Christine jerked to look at her. “You gave him money?”
“A hundred bucks. He came into the clay barn.”
“Did you ask him what it was for?” she demanded.
Aurora shrugged. “He said he was mad at you, that you lied to him about everything, that he couldn’t please you.”
“And that didn’t give you a clue?” she said. “He’s mad at me, he asks for that much money and you don’t inquire as to his plans?” She tried not to sound as outraged as she felt.
“If he wanted to tell me, he would have told me. And if he wanted to leave, I couldn’t have stopped him.”
Which was exactly as careless as she’d been with Christine all those years ago. Now Aurora had let her grandson run away.
“I can’t believe this.” Christine made her hands into fists and squeezed to keep from yelling or crying.
“He’ll figure it out, don’t worry,” Aurora said.
“Figure it out? And what might happen to him in the meantime? He’s fifteen years old, Aurora.”
“I’ll call the bus station and sheriff’s office and see what we can find out,” Marcus said, going for the phone.
“I can’t even call Skip. David has the message slip.”
Her helpless feeling got even worse when she learned the bus company would not confirm if or when he’d taken a bus to San Diego and the police wouldn’t look for him unless he was in imminent danger.
David’s cell phone went straight to voice mail, so Christine left as calm a message as she could manage, then sagged into the
desk chair in her alcove office. “I’ve lost him,” she said to Marcus, who sat across the desk. “He’s gone.”
“He will call or his father will,” Marcus said. “You just have to wait a little while.”
“This was my last chance and I blew it. What if he won’t come back?”
“I’m sure he will. And in the meantime, the visit might be valuable for him.”
“Valuable? Are you nuts? With Skip? He’s a terrible person and an awful influence. He’ll break David’s heart.”
“The absence of a parent can distort a child’s view of himself and his place in the world.”
“What? You’re giving me a psychology lecture now? My young son, who can barely drive, took my car and may or may not have made it to Preston, found the bus station, got on the right bus to San Diego where his flaky father may or may not meet him—or even know he’s on his way.”
Just saying that out loud scared her even more.
“Of course you’re worried, but it does no good to create worst-case scenarios, Christine. For now we’re waiting.” In the face of her distress, Marcus seemed to have turned into some distant, neutral stranger.
“Even if he makes it there safely, Skip is a disaster.”
“David has created a fantasy father in his mind. Meeting the man will be a reality check for him.”
“A reality check? You’re saying he should visit?”
“The research indicates more positive outcomes when a child experiences a disappointing father than when he has no contact with him.”
“You’re quoting research now? And, what, saying this is my fault? That I should have let him be with Skip? I’m a bad mother, is that it?”
“That’s not what I’m saying,” he said calmly, looking at her as though she was being silly. “You seem to have had an extreme reaction to the idea of David spending time with his father. Are you afraid David would choose Skip over you, because that’s highly unlikely given your—”
“Just stop! You’re not helping me,” she snapped.
“My point is that David will discover his father’s flaws and stop mythologizing him in his absence. That’s a good thing.”
