Before I’ve managed to diagnose the exact problem, I hear a woman’s voice ask Alexis if she lives here, so I glance in their direction to find a black BMW parked on the street with a beautiful brunette making her way across the yard. There’s no mistaking the protective stance Alexis takes as she moves between the young woman and Bailey, looking up at me in the process.
Something inside tells me to leave her alone, because she won’t want me interfering, but there’s a stronger instinct winning out that’s forcing me to get up and try to protect Alexis. I guess my head’s confused, because I’m supposed to be guarding Bailey, right?
In either case, I find myself turning backwards so I can climb down the ladder, trying to detect the concern Alexis has with each step I take toward them. Honestly, I’m not seeing it. But the newcomer is prettier than she seemed from the rooftop, and those jeans are fitting her just right.
Maybe Alexis is jealous?
No, that’s crazy.
“This is my neighbor, Harley Laine,” Alexis announces as I cross the yard. “She needs some repairs on her house.”
“Hey!” Hey, that’s all you got? You’re an idiot. Clearing my throat, I try to drag up some remains of the suave I normally possess. “Nice to meet you. I’ve done my share of pretty much everything you can imagine construction-wise, so I’m your guy. Oh, Jake McAuliffe.” My hand thrusts itself out almost of its own accord, and I wish I could kick myself. The old me would have had her in his truck by now.
“Jake,” she repeats, rewarding me with a smile. Nice smile, but it makes her seem young and innocent. Not really the vibe I was hoping for.
“So, what is it that needs fixing?” I ask, trying to shrug off my awkwardness.
“A ton of things, really, but for now I’ve just got a couple holes in the wall that I need repaired. To be honest, I don’t know much about that kind of thing, but could I have my boyfriend talk to you?”
If someone told me this is a movie and the slow motion button was pressed, I would believe it. I swear, when she said the word boyfriend, it halted in the air between us and then whooshed over me like I could have reached out and swatted it away.
The crazy thing is, though, I’m actually a little relieved.
“Sure, have your boyfriend call me. That’s fine. You want my number?”
Harley nods, so I step over to my truck and jerk open the passenger door. Next week I’m supposed to have my own business cards, but for right now I’ve got nothing but one that has been sitting on the console of my pickup for a couple years. It’s faded and slightly creased, with the picture of River Rock Bed and Breakfast on the front.
Instantly I’m back in Tennessee, sitting at the table at the bed and breakfast, a huge mess of biscuits and gravy on my plate. Cole and Artie are talking about the work we’ll be doing later in the day, and Rosalie’s behind them scrubbing dishes and telling me to mind my manners. She likes to mother me. I suppose she does that to everyone, but I’m not really interested in being mothered. Not that I don’t appreciate the breakfast, because I do.
And then she walks into the room, cheeks flushed from a run, blonde curls pulled into a half bun/half ponytail. It’s impossible to keep my eyes off her, and Cole has the exact same problem. She turns in our direction with that almost timid grin, and the blood heats in my veins, because I wish she’d look at me the way she looks at him.
I shake my head to try to get Camdyn out of there, flipping the card over to scribble my number across the back. Tennessee’s gone. I’m in Kentucky, and the sooner I get that settled in my brain, the better off I’ll be.
Only a few strides stand between me and the ladies currently in my presence, so I take them and attempt to regain a little of the charm I was missing earlier. “Call me sometime. Or have your boyfriend call me, if you want.”
“Thanks.” Harley taps the card against her hand before she turns to head for her car. Back in Tennessee, that conversation would have gone differently. Pre-Camdyn, anyway. The woman threw me off my game, and I can’t seem to turn things around.
“Nice wheels!” I yell across the street. She waves before she climbs into the car, revving the engine and continuing toward the cul-de-sac. My eyes drift back to Alexis, who is leveling me with that narrow gaze. Maybe she’s the one causing my funk here in Kentucky, always glaring at me and trying to make me feel less than worthy.
“I didn’t know she lived on Wonder Lane,” she mutters, folding her arms across her chest and following the red glow of Harley’s taillights down the road.
“You know her?”
“She’s a reporter. Did you not see that news story last month where she was crying with the homeless people?”
It doesn’t ring a bell, but I’m not nearly as interested in that as I am in this sudden mood Alexis is in. The easy conversation we were having earlier while she was trying to convince me to fix her leak is gone, replaced instead with a sullen, almost angry defensiveness.
She’s totally jealous.
Of what, I’m not sure. Maybe it’s Harley’s long legs, or maybe it’s the fact that I gave her my number, but she’s clearly jealous.
And the conscious acknowledgement of that fact freaks me out, so I point to the roof and take my leave, preferring not to give it any thought.
Called my dad tonight.
Feeling responsible for my dad’s actions is probably not a worthwhile pursuit, and I’m almost certain no one expects it of me, but it’s like a sickness I can’t cure. One of the things that made it easier for me to pull up and leave was the fact that he nearly cut off his leg with that darn chainsaw after the tree fell on him. It’s tempting to call it a freak accident, but I can’t. And if I couldn’t take care of him living a mile away, it’s probably a losing battle to begin with. Unless I move in with him, and the last time I tried that…
He sounded okay, all things considered. As good as he can sound, anyway. Said he’d been talking with Cole’s friend Tony, the one who’s an assistant pastor or something. He used to be in AA and wants to help him. He’s giving it some thought, which tells me he definitely won’t follow through.
But he asked me how the job hunt was going, so I was able to give him some good news there. He also asked me how Brandy was, and I told him she was great and that she was growing up really fast. I didn’t have the heart to tell him her name is Bailey, not Brandy, especially after he told me my mom was in prison. As if I didn’t know she was in prison. She’s been there four years.
Jerking the sheet around my shoulders, I shift myself on the bed again, trying to find a comfortable position. It’s not going to happen, because the problem isn’t the bed, but internal. I can’t get comfortable with the ghosts no matter how hard I try.
They’ve been tapping on the back of my subconscious ever since I hung up the phone with Dad. Tap, tap. How did he sound? Tap, tap. Send someone to check on him. Tap, tap. He mentioned her. That’s not good.
He always thought she saved him, the older woman swooping in to love him when no one else did. His own dad disappeared when he was just a kid, and the family always assumed the worst since he hadn’t fared well when he came back from Vietnam. Dad’s mom had a series of seizures soon after that affected her ability to care for herself, and she was taken to an assisted living facility. So Dad grew up in foster care, bouncing from one home to another, usually causing trouble.
Mom started off giving him rides to work after school, but pretty soon he dropped out and moved in with her. Then they found out about me, and Granny insisted that they get married. I’m not sure what sort of pull my grandma had over my mom, but they were legally husband and wife after that. Still are, although it’s sort of a joke by now.
He lived and breathed for her, though. I was too young to know how it started—the drinking, I mean—but I know it had to do with her. I’ve seen the repercussions of her visits and his behavior directly after, so it’s not much of a leap. She ran around on him with other guys, and he would numb himself until she showed up.
Of course she never stayed long. Sometimes a few months at a time, but other times only days.
The night I try not to think about wasn’t one of those instances. That night began with a simple phone call. She didn’t know who to turn to, and so she dialed his number. The one contact she could make, and she had to screw with my dad. They were bringing her up as an accomplice in a murder trial in Alabama. She hadn’t done anything, she insisted, but she knew they weren’t ever going to release her.
If she wasn’t going to be coming back, how could he numb himself to that?
That was when I was living with Dad. I came home from my shift at work around four thirty in the afternoon and found him face down on the table with a bottle of pills beside him. Had I been much later, they might not have been able to pump his stomach.
He stayed in the hospital that night, but I couldn’t face it. It seemed like too much to take. One of the nurses at the hospital managed to get the information out about my mom, and she looked it up for me. Mom wasn’t just present at a murder scene. She had been implicated for helping plan the crime, and they had documents to prove it. Jealous lover, from the appearance of things. I’ve never looked for the gritty details, even to this day.
That’s the only night I can remember where I wasn’t worried about my dad. He was at the hospital and I knew there were nurses taking care of him, so I could have a night off.
It was dark by the time I walked back into the trailer. My work clothes probably didn’t smell good ordinarily, but that night they reeked of the hospital. Not that it had a particular smell, but the memory of everything I had seen earlier was clinging to me. In the shower, I attempted to scrub it all away. When that wasn’t good enough, I doused myself in cologne to try to cover the remnants that lingered.
A night alone in the trailer wasn’t appealing, either. I had no idea where I would go, but I had to get out, so I dressed in my best clothes and ran my hands along the sides of my hair as I looked in the mirror. I didn’t see myself looking back at me. I saw my dad, twenty years earlier, with the exception of those traitor eyes that pointed back at my mom.
The entire course of my life might have changed if I had simply walked out that door, but I didn’t. As I made my way in that direction, my eyes fell on the table and the cap for the pill bottle. The paramedics had taken the bottle with my dad so they would know what he’d taken, but the cap remained. Next to that cap was a bottle of whiskey, the liquid still reaching the halfway mark, sitting there like it was waiting for him to return and finish it off.
I wouldn’t let him have the chance to finish that bottle. Grabbing it by the neck, I carried it to the sink and began to tilt it when something inside me clenched. Why should everyone be numb except me? I deserved the opportunity to forget about everything, just for one night.
So I drank its entire contents, and I went to Jackson, and I met Alexis. And I remember almost none of it.
Chapter Fourteen
Alexis
The Mitsubishi is dead.
December twenty-third, and we were supposed to be on the road an hour ago, but the poor old normally-dependable car is dead.
I want Gump.
Three hours late, but we are securely fastened in the pickup and headed south on I-65. Bailey is cradling Hoppy and telling him a story in the car seat between us.
Call him, my brain kept saying, but my heart forced it to shut its ugly mouth. The last time I called him, he flirted with my beautiful news reporter neighbor in my driveway. The man has no shame.
But then, out of the blue, he appeared in front of the house. Just dropping by to say hi to Bailey, he said. Has a couple days off work. I guess bars aren’t open for Christmas around here?
“We need a car,” Bailey told him. He scrunched up his nose like he agreed before he even knew the story, which was irritating. My car is virtually an antique, I understand that, but I don’t get tips from seedy women at bars, so I have to keep a tight rein on my finances.
He quickly realized she wasn’t teasing, and after he looked at it for a few minutes, he said he thought it needed a new starter.
“Thank you very much, I’ll begin checking on that immediately.”
That’s what I should have said, but it didn’t happen. Instead, every single simmering emotion my body possessed bubbled over to the surface, and I started crying. Sobbing, actually. We were supposed to leave for Jackson this morning, I blubbered. I just want to go home.
And now I am going home.
In Jake’s truck.
Which means I’ll have to come back in Jake’s truck.
With Jake.
“Do you, uh, want to come in?”
Please say no. Please say no. Please say no.
“No, I’ll pass.”
My heart has never breathed such a huge sigh of relief.
Jake steps out of the truck and reaches into the bed to grab the box of gifts, small though it is, and our overnight bag. I occupy myself removing Bailey from her restraints, and when my sleepy girl realizes where we are, she lets out a scream.
The sound of his baby’s voice is all it takes, and my dad emerges from the front door, holding his arms out so she can step inside. I’d like to run up to my dad and squeeze him, too, but I’m paralyzed by fright. Jake has never met my family. Even though they’ve never said so, I’m sure they have been ashamed of me at times and convinced that I’m not so bright. Introducing them to Jake would be like proving that I’m a total dunce.
Sweet sister Susie, will he try to flirt with my mother?
“Did you bring a friend with you?” Dad asks Bailey.
Say no, Bailey. Just pull him in the house.
“Jay,” she admits with a shrug, like it’s no big deal for us to be dragging him around. Or vice versa.
“Oh, this is Jake?” Dad rises and takes Bailey’s hand, stepping toward the truck like a man on a mission. Jake glances at me before he stiffens, placing the strap for the bag over his shoulder and holding the box in front of him like a shield. “Nice to meet you, son. Will you join us for dinner?”
“Huh?” Jake was clearly not prepared for this turn of events, nor am I. Dad appears to be undeterred.
“Sorry, I guess I should introduce myself. Nick Jennings.”
Jake shifts the box to his side so he can take my dad’s proffered hand, and my breath has refused to move for so long, I’m slightly afraid I might be turning blue.
“Crystal made a pot roast, potatoes, carrots... You will stay for dinner, right? She stashed an apple pie in the cupboard, but if you care to join us I’m sure she can be convinced to break it out.”
“Um, I…” Jake looks to me for a reaction, but what am I supposed to say that doesn’t make me look like a total nut? “Sure, I’ve never been one to pass up pie.”
My life is over.
“Jake, honey, do you live around here?”
Crisp cranberry cupcakes, my mother just called Jake honey. Where is Sadie Lou when I need her? Or Heather, for that matter?
“I mean your folks, of course. I know you’re living up in Kentucky now.”
“Yes, ma’am, my dad lives about thirty miles southwest of here. My mom lives in Alabama.”
“So, how did you meet Alexis?”
Mom has no idea what she’s doing. Jake clears his throat as he picks apart the apples in that pie. I guarantee it’s not as appealing now as he thought a little while ago.
“A friend of mine introduced us,” he says simply. “We share some mutual friends.”
This is news to me, as I’m quite certain we don’t run in the same circles.
“How are you liking it up in Louisville?” Dad continues the conversation, stuffing his mouth full of pie like this is the most normal meeting in the world.
“Well, I guess I’m still getting used to it, sir,” Jake tells him. He’s throwing around the sirs and ma’ams like he’s straight out of a 1950’s time warp. It’s plumb weird.
“You live relatively close to Alexis?”
“Yes, but I’m in a temporary situation now. I didn’t want to find somewhere permanent to live before I had a steady job locked down. But I have a really good employment situation now, so I’ll likely be looking for something soon.”
Ugh, please don’t ask him about working at a bar.
“And what kind of employment do you have there?” Dad asks, completely ignoring my unspoken pleas.
“I’ve got a supervisor position at a large construction company.”
“Since when?” I blurt, unable to hide the surprise from my face.
“Couple months ago.”
Mom gives me a questioning and accusatory glance. It’s uncanny the way she can pull both those things off at once. I’m sure she’s wondering how we could have ridden in the same truck for hours and I have no idea what the man does for a living. Well, we weren’t exactly sharing pleasant conversation on the way down here.
“And what are you doing for Christmas?”
“Oh.” Jake lifts his napkin from his lap, setting his fist next to his plate. “I hadn’t really given it any thought. Didn’t even expect to come back until Alex started crying. I don’t do well with outward signs of female emotion.”
I give myself a mental kick in the rear and shake my head, a disgusted smile gracing my face.
“I don’t mean anything bad by that,” Jake quickly adds. “Her car wouldn’t run, and she was just upset about that, I guess. And it is almost Christmas, so it would be hard to get it repaired. It’s no problem.”
“It’s very kind of you to change your plans for them,” Mom informs him.
Jake’s a saint. I’m officially going to have to extend the distance I run away to Mars, or maybe even Venus.
“You should stay for Christmas,” Dad says. I nearly choke on my pie. One centimeter to the left in my windpipe, and I’m pretty sure I would need the Heimlich.
Curiouser (Girls of Wonder Lane Book 3) Page 12
