Then there was Ana. He didn’t even know what to make of her. One minute she was giving him a tongue lashing that left welts and then she was smiling at him with those big eyes and full lips. Damn it if that didn’t mess with a guy’s head. He wasn’t entirely certain when exactly she had wormed her way under his skin, but he knew he was in trouble when every other girl he came across seemed remarkably less appealing when compared to her. It was kind of like picking broccoli when you could have a huge New York sirloin steak, and he’d had every intention of taking a bite, taking several bites and then licking his fingers and plate clean, but Ana wasn’t the kind of girl you took behind a clump of bushes. She was the full-on commitment kind of girl. Not because her father scared the crap out of him, but because she deserved nothing less and that scared him like her father never could.
No. Ana was better off with someone who wouldn’t earn her dirty sidelong glances or whispered words behind cupped hands. She deserved someone like Vinny. Rafe was pretty certain she wouldn’t have crawled half under the dashboard had it been Vinny dropping her off at school. Why would she?
Rolling in a thundercloud of anger, resentment and pain, Rafe reached his car and threw himself behind the wheel. He left a cloud of burned rubber and smoke in the rearview mirror as he shot out of the parking garage and into the rising dawn.
The lights were off when he reached the house, but that didn’t mean anyone was actually sleeping, not in the Ramirez house.
He killed the engine on the Firebird and shuffled up to the porch. He hesitated a second before pushing open the door and stepping into the foyer.
“Where have you been?”
There was no time to wince or curse when the door behind him slammed shut. Rafe didn’t even bother turning around.
“Out,” he muttered, keeping his head down, his tone flat.
“It’s four in the morning, boy. Where in the world could you possibly have gone off to at that hour?” Heavy, army-issued boots pounded against hardwood as the shadow lurking behind the door stomped around to stand in front of Rafe. All Rafe saw were the slits of steel glinting across the toes. “The school phoned. Said you missed classes, again. You had your mom worried sick. Not that you care I’m sure. Just like your old man.”
The keys cut into Rafe’s hands as he balled his fists, but he would never dare use them, not on this man, not if he wanted to live to see another day. Years of experience taught him to take what he was given and keep his mouth shut.
“Are you listening, boy?” A hard shove in the shoulder rocked Rafe back a step, but he kept his ground. “Where were you?”
“Out,” he said again.
“With a girl?” There was a cold hint of mockery in the question, like he didn’t expect a good for nothing brat like Rafe to get anywhere near a decent girl. And he was right. After all, wasn’t that why he kept Ana away? “She must be something hideous if you refuse to bring her around here, or is she only good for one thing?”
“Don’t!” He couldn’t clench his teeth together tight enough to trap the single word that snarled out, carving into the silence, the darkness, and striking the man in front of him.
Dan jerked back as if physically struck. “What did you say to me, boy?”
Rafe raised his head, his nostrils flaring, his eyes flashing between the long fringes falling into his face as he glared into the face of his stepfather. “Don’t talk about her.”
For a moment, Dan really looked stunned, like a rock had suddenly decided to speak to him. Then, his pudgy face split into a malicious grin that only made Rafe’s fists beg to punch on.
“Oh ho!” Dan barked, rocking back on his heels. “Look who’s grown a pair! Little snot!” The shove sent Rafe crashing into the door. “Think because you’ve had a few girls you’re some kind of man? You’re not a man. You’re a weak, pathetic pile of shit that I scrapped off my boots. If it weren’t for your ma, I would ship you off to military school where the only lovin’ you’d get is in the locker room. They don’t put up with pretty boys there. Do you know the first thing they’d do? Huh?” He didn’t wait for Rafe to answer. His long, fat fingers fisted in Rafe’s hair, yanking it back until roots were torn from his scalp and tears stung his eyes. The back of his head slammed into the door. “They’d cut off all that pretty hair!”
Blood slicked the keys in his hand. Rafe tightened his fingers around the jagged teeth, redirecting the pain in his head down to his hand. He gritted his teeth, refusing to make a sound.
Dan released him with another push that drove Rafe’s shoulder blades into the rectangular carvings in the door. “Get on upstairs before you wake Gabby and Mike, you worthless prick.”
Rafe didn’t move. He waited until Dan had turned away and climbed the stairs before he pushed away from the door and rubbed a hand over the throbbing spot at the top of his head. His fingers came away wet, but he wiped them on his jeans.
Dan was a big man, six-three with a body like a two-ton truck. He’d been in the army before getting wounded in an ambush. Rafe’s mom hadn’t been married to him then. She’d run into him while shopping and somehow, instead of groceries, she’d brought him home and he’d never left. Nine months later, Gabriella and Michael were born. If it weren’t for his mom and his siblings, Rafe would have left a long time ago, but he couldn’t be sure Dan wouldn’t start taking his mean out on them. So long as Rafe stayed, Dan had an outlet for his hate and it stayed away from the people Rafe loved.
“Ray?” His mom, a tiny thing with a cloud of blonde ringlets and big brown eyes like a porcelain doll, appeared at the top of the stairs clad in her threadbare robe. The sickly light above her head gave her alabaster complexion a dull glow that emphasized the worry in her eyes. Rafe hated that he’d been the one to put it there.
“Hey, Mom,” he murmured, shuffling to stand at the foot of the stairs.
She hurried down the steps bare foot. “Did you just get home?”
Rafe nodded.
She stopped at the bottom step, one step higher than him, and was still forced to tip her head back to peer into his face. “Is everything all right? Are you hurt?”
“No, I’m fine.”
Her fingers were cold touching his cheek. “Come on then. You must be hungry. You missed supper.”
He stopped her when she started towards the kitchen. “I can get something. Go back to bed.”
The lines around her eyes crinkled when she smiled. “You know I don’t mind. I love taking care of my big boy.”
Although being called a big boy made him want to wince and fidget, he didn’t correct her.
“I’m fine!” he brushed a kiss to her forehead. “Go to sleep. I’m not hungry anyway. I grabbed something with some friends earlier.”
She took his hand and squeezed his fingers. “You know I like that you have friends, but please don’t stay out so late. Four AM is very late.”
He nodded, promised that he wouldn’t and pushed her off to bed. He waited until he heard her bedroom door shut before shuffling into the kitchen. The chicken was cold, but he scarfed it down quickly over the sink, gulped down a glass of milk and went to bed, wondering if he would see Ana at school in the morning.
Ana
Her mom was there the next morning, dressed in gray slacks and a silk blouse, her casual wear. Her heels clacked like gunshots all the way down the hall, signaling Ana of her arrival long before she actually appeared in the doorway.
“Morning,” she said, smiling. “Did you sleep all right?”
Still in the same position as Rafe had left her only hours before, Ana nodded, forcing her mouth to twist into a smile. “Like a rock.”
Pleased, Mom stepped deeper into the room and crossed to the bed, a plastic bag in hand. “I brought you some clothes. The nurse said you can leave any time you want. Do you feel well enough?”
Ana was already pushing back blankets and throwing her legs over the mattress. “I’m ready.”
Mom’s hand rested lightly on her shoulder. “
Wait!” she said, chuckling. “They still have to remove the IV.”
Right. She’d forgotten about that. Dejected, she sunk back on the mattress, legs dangling over the edge.
Mom pulled a chair to the bed and lowered herself into it. “So I was thinking we could get some breakfast and catch up. What do you think? We haven’t had a mother-daughter day in a little while. And maybe, if you’re feeling all right, we could drive around town, maybe see the shops?”
Ana looked up at her, brows creased. “What about school?” She was pretty certain it was still only Wednesday.
Mom waved a dainty hand dismissively. “No one expects you to go straight back. I think they’ll understand, given the circumstances.”
Well, Ana wasn’t going to argue. After Rafe had left, after spending several minutes struggling between rage and humiliation and pain, Ana had decided she didn’t want to face the people at school, not so soon after what happened. She had hoped to talk her parents into letting her skip a few days, desperate enough to use her head injury as leverage. Not too many days, just until some of the heat calmed down. She had already accepted the fact that she would forever be known as the weird, new girl who saw a demon in Chem class.
“Shopping sounds nice,” she mumbled, not really feeling like doing anything.
Her mom beamed.
“But what about your meetings?” she asked.
Mom did the fluttering of her hand thing again, rolling her eyes. “Those idiots can handle things for a few days without me. Lord knows, they could learn a thing or two from their mistakes without me holding their hands.”
That statement was so uncharacteristic that Ana saw right through it.
“Mom, you don’t have to do this. I know—”
Mom’s hand came up, halting her. “This is more important.”
The nurse arrived and Ana was distracted by the IV being pulled out and her discharge papers being signed. She didn’t think about her mother’s concern until they were on their way to the car.
“So, what do you want to do first?” Mom asked, jingling her keys as they walked through the paid parking area. “Breakfast? Or do you want to go home and shower first?”
Her mom’s idea of chosen clothes consisted of black slacks, that were too tight, and a purple, satin blouse that made her swelter in the heat. They were outfits Ana reserved for things like church or some really fancy dinner, not getting out of the hospital after bashing her skull in.
“Shower.”
Chapter Sixteen
Ana
At home, her dad was waiting on the porch, dishrag in hand. He beamed when they arrived, scooping Ana up in a tight hug when she reached him.
“How you feeling, Turnip?”
Ana wrinkled her nose at the loathed childhood nickname. “God, Dad!”
He chuckled. “You’ll always be my turnip-eating weirdo.”
She elbowed him playfully and then stepped around to walk inside. Dad had cleaned the floors. The scent of pine cleaner was overpowering and was an instant reminder of the hospital. Ana held her breath as she jogged upstairs.
Twenty minutes later, she was showered and dressed in jeans and a t-shirt. She covered the faint purple rings around her eyes with cover up and took great care not to go over her stitches with the brush before accepting herself as presentable.
Downstairs, her mom was in the living room, rifling through her purse. Dad was nowhere in sight. Mom glanced up when Ana hit the bottom of the stairs.
“Ready?”
Ana nodded.
Leading the way, Mom’s icepick heels clacked against hardwood as she got to the door. They walked through and started for the car. No one spoke as they strapped in and pulled away from the house.
“So, how do you like Chipawaha Creek?” Mom asked as they turned at the stop sign.
Ana shrugged. “It’s all right.”
“Not Ontario,” Mom mused, wistfulness coloring her tone.
“No, not Ontario,” Ana agreed, giving her own sigh.
Her mom’s long, red nails clicked against the wheel as she drummed in time to some music only she could hear. “It’s not so bad,” she decided. “I’m sure you’ll fit right in once everyone gets to know you.”
Oh they know me well and good now, Ana thought bitterly.
“So,” Mom continued, straining the O to an inch of its life. “How are the kids at your school?”
Ana jerked a shoulder. “Fine.”
“I met your friend yesterday.”
“Which friend?”
“Jack. She brought your books to the hospital. She wanted to see you, but you were sleeping.” Click, click, click, went the nails. “She seems like an interesting individual.”
“I like her!” Ana answered, a bit defensively.
Her mom put up a hand. “I’m not judging! Jack certainly isn’t Chelsea, but then, this isn’t Ajex either. I accept that you’re making new friends and that they might not be what I expect.”
“She’s really nice,” Ana said, feeling the need to make sure her mom knew this. “She doesn’t treat me like I have leprosy.”
“Well, that’s good.” They turned down the street with the only streetlight in town. “I like you having friends who are nice. How are your classes? Do you like your teachers?”
Ana groaned. “Mostly.” She told her mom about Mr. Voronin and Miss. Burke and their complete polar opposite-ness.
“It’ll get better. It’s only been two days.” She pulled into an empty parking spot in front of Booty Craze, a hair and nail salon that specialized in helping with tax returns, and they climbed out. “If we have time, we should get our nails done,” her mom mused, gesturing to the We-Do-Nails, sign on the window.
Ana didn’t comment. She let herself be led down the street. Several people stopped and glanced in their direction. Ana wondered if they all knew, or if they were wondering why she wasn’t in school.
The diner, a 50s style Malt Shop, was nearly empty save for the elderly couple in one corner chatting over sandwiches, a bored waitress behind the counter flipping through a magazine and a middle aged man stirring his coffee while staring off into space. Chuck Berry crooned from the jukebox. The smell of freshly baked apple pie, roasted meat, grease and Windex filled the air. No one glanced up as they made their way to a table in the middle of the restaurant — her mom refused to slide into a booth for any reason. Pink and green seemed to be the theme of the place, because it was painted on the walls, the tiles, even the counters had the two colors splattered across the otherwise white surface.
“This is nice!” her mom exclaimed, peering around.
Ana just nodded, reaching for the plastic menu tucked between the ketchup bottle and the napkin dispenser that in bold, red colors along the side, suggested she try Coke. Mentally she wondered if anyone else found that amusing.
The waitress arrived a moment later, smiling at them a little too brightly, a little too glassy-eyed. Ana felt a pang of sympathy for the girl. “Hello! Welcome to—”
The bell above the door jingled and a tall, ridiculously handsome man stepped into the diner. He smiled pleasantly at everyone present, reminding Ana a lot of a toothpaste commercial model come to life. His familiar green eyes swept over the room like a man entertaining guests in his own living room.
“Hello Mayor Andrews!” the waitress, no longer glassy-eyed, chirped excitedly.
Andrews? Vinny’s dad? It couldn’t be, but how many Andrews lived in Chipawaha Creek? Shit! Ana sunk a little in her seat. But no amount of ducking and covering was going to help her. Those unfathomable green eyes that were so much like his son’s had roamed and settled on their table like a homing beacon.
“Hello, Wanda! You look especially lovely this morning.” He strolled casually over to them. “Is that a new apron?”
Elated as if she’d just been elected homecoming queen, Wanda giggled, actually swaying from side to side, holding the corners of her apron like a ball gown. “Isn’t it nice? Mr. Ebel had them shipped
in only last week from Alberta.”
The man beamed. “Just lovely!”
Ana couldn’t see what the big deal was. It was a white apron, the kind with pockets in the front. There was nothing remotely special about it. But the two were going on about it as if it were the biggest thing in Paris fashion.
As if reading her mind, Mayor Andrews dropped his gaze and met Ana’s. His eyes widened.
“Well, hello!” he said. He swung his gaze over to her mother. “You must be the French family!” He chuckled when Ana narrowed her eyes warily. “I make it my mission to know all the families in Chipawaha Creek. A new face is always exciting.” He tipped his head to the side, squinting as if trying to make something out on Ana’s face. “You must be … Ana! My son, Vincent, is in your class at school. He’s told me so much about you.”
Ana had no idea how that was possible. She’d only met Vinny twice, and the second time, she’d had a conniption and knocked herself unconscious. She didn’t want to imagine that conversation.
“And you.” He swung his gaze over to her mom. “You must be Ana’s sister.”
Oh. Dear. God … he so did not just say that! But he had, and her mother actually giggled like that wasn’t the corniest line in the world. Ana wanted to crawl under the table and die.
Betraying Innocence Page 14
