Unknown (Unknown Series Book 1)

by Wendy Higgins

  “Go on.” He gave it a gentle shake. “Es chocolate. Rylen would want you to eat.”

  She hesitantly reached out and opened it. I was relieved when she began to munch. She was thin to begin with, but lately she was kind of looking gaunt in the face. It couldn’t be good for her to eat so little with the baby taking a good portion of her nutrition. When Mom got up to use the restroom, and Remy and Tater were chatting again, I went and sat next to Livia.

  “Rylen will be fine,” I whispered in Spanish. “He’s a quick thinker.” She gave a small nod. I glanced at the others, but they weren’t paying attention to us, so I went on, keeping my voice low. “If you ever want to visit me at work, if you’re ever feeling bad, please come. It’s good to have checkups when you’re . . .”

  Her eyes searched mine with something akin to panic. “¿Ya sabes?” You know? Her hand hesitantly roamed to her stomach.

  My hands became super interesting to stare at as I whispered in Spanish, “I overheard Rylen when he was getting his vaccine. Nobody else knows.”

  When I peeked to see if she was upset that I knew, her hands were clasped in her lap and she stared away, expressionless.

  I wanted to tell her it was okay, but the sound of a truck’s engine hummed outside of our house. We all leapt up and rushed to the window. Rylen climbed out, looking whole and well. His eyes went to the window as he walked up and he nodded.

  Dad opened the door and let him in, quickly closing and locking it again.

  “Well?” Mom asked.

  Rylen rubbed his hands together and we waited, the air between our circle thick with expectancy. “I think they bought it. I didn’t see the guys who came to my house. In fact, the two DRI who were there didn’t seem to know about the incident, so maybe the other guys hadn’t made it back yet, or maybe they really were doing their own thing. They said they’d look into it, but I’m not holding my breath. I didn’t tell them about the gun. Just told them I came home to find my dad dead and my barn on fire. They told me to report back in the morning. I asked how I could become a DRP myself, and they said, due to conflicts of interest, DRP are no longer hiring people to work in the towns they’re from.”

  My eyebrows shot up.

  “They don’t want anyone giving special treatment to people they know,” Dad said. He looked at Rylen and cleared his throat. “The uh, the grave is ready.”

  We all got to our feet. A quiet heaviness loomed over the room. Rylen shifted his stance and looked from the ground around to our faces.

  “Do you mind if I do this alone?”

  Oh, Ry. It had always been he and his dad against the world.

  Dad put a hand on Rylen’s shoulder. “Of course not, son. We’ll be right here if you need us.”

  We sat in complete silence when Rylen left. Only a single candle flickered in the room. Tater and I went to wash up and change our clothes. He came out of his room with a too-tight T-shirt, biceps bulging out of the sleeves. His old clothes were too small now.

  He let out a dramatic sigh and said, “I’m gonna need some help fighting off all the women who want a piece of this.”

  Dad snorted and Remy giggled, staring at him until I made a barfing sound.

  When Rylen came back, he was covered in dirt, his eyes still red-rimmed, but there were no tear streaks. Tater stood and embraced him. Watching them made the rest of us cry. Even Dad wiped his eyes. I forced myself to remain on the other side of the room as Livia stood and went to Rylen.

  When they broke apart, Mom said, “We should get some rest now.” She handed Rylen a pack of baby wipes to clean himself.

  Tater said, “I figured you’d turn my room into a dance studio.”

  “Nah, it wasn’t big enough.” Mom bumped his hip and looked toward Rylen and Livia. Tater picked up on it right away.

  “You two take my old room,” he said to them. “I got the couch.” And before anyone could complain, he dove onto it, grabbing a pillow and manhandling it into a small ball under his head. He closed his eyes and grinned. I grabbed the throw blanket from the back of the couch and dropped it on his face.

  “I feel the love,” he said from under it.

  “Night everyone,” I said. I headed to my room before I had to watch Rylen and Livia disappear into a bedroom together. Remy was right behind me. I cracked my window to let in some cool night air. Sounds of crickets drifted in.

  Remy and I had shared my bed too many times to count, but it had been awhile. I forgot what a snuggler she was. She had to be touching me at all times, which is exactly how Tater was. Whenever we shared a bed in childhood, I’d wake up with his arms and legs flung over me all night. Right now I was on my back and she was on her side, facing me. She had my arm in a hug, her face pressed against my lower shoulder.

  “It’s weird to see them together,” she whispered. My stomach soured. “I mean, if it’s weird for me then I know it has to be super weird for you.”

  “I’m getting used to it.” It was minutely true, but I didn’t want to talk about it.

  “I’m sad about his dad,” she said. “I can’t believe he didn’t cry.”

  The shock of it weighed on my chest. I don’t think it had sunk in that Len was really gone. It seemed impossible.

  “I’ve only seen him cry once, when he was little. That’s just how he is.” In some moments he let his emotions show so freely in his expressions and his stance, and in other times he was like a steel vault. But to see his father killed . . . to see him lying there, lifeless. I couldn’t imagine the hopeless finality he must have felt.

  I hoped Livia was comforting him well. I squeezed my eyes shut, not wanting to think one iota of what that comfort could entail. Just love him well, I wished. Love him for me.

  A humiliating, unexpected sob rose up and I gasped on it, my chest heaving, my eyes burning.

  “Amber,” Remy whispered, sitting up. And without another word she wrapped her arms around me and I wrapped mine back. She held me while I shuddered, trying to force the emotions back down into their hiding place.

  “It’s okay,” she whispered. “It’s okay to be sad.”

  No, no, stop, I wanted to tell her, but I was too busy crying. Again. Lord, I was so sick of crying. I pulled away and wiped my eyes.

  “I’m all right,” I whispered.

  “But it’s okay if you’re not,” she reasoned.

  “No, Remy, I need to be all right. I can’t keep feeling like this. Too much is going on. I have to move on. I have to think about the bigger picture and stop feeling sorry for myself.”

  She was quiet a moment. “You were always so much stronger than me.”

  “That’s not true. We’re just strong in different ways.”

  I lay back down and she slowly relaxed again too.

  “I’m glad you’re here, Rem.”

  “Me too. Let’s get some sleep.”

  I rolled over with my back to her. Remy rolled over as well, and squished her butt right up against mine. An unexpected smile pulled at my lips. How many times had I slept butt-to-butt with Remy? So much was changing, but some things were still the same.

  “Look at all these furry creatures,” Mom said at the breakfast table the next morning. Grandpa, Dad, Tater, and Rylen were all sporting shaggy short beards of varying color. We’d pulled up folding chairs and squeezed everyone in.

  “Es oogly,” Abuela said. I snorted my coffee and everyone laughed.

  Tater rubbed his face. “Abuela, I look good.”

  “Noo.” She shook her head. Remy was dying next to me.

  “Aw, come on, Mama,” Dad said to her. “We can’t waste precious water keeping up our baby faces.”

  “Es okay,” Abuela said. “Use all the agua.” The laughter continued as Mom passed out paper plates of salt-n-pepper grits with strips of fried Spam.

  “You keep feeding us like kings and queens and we’ll run out of supplies right fast,” Grandpa said.

  “We have to eat,” Mom told him. “And these are much smaller po
rtions than we’d normally have. So hush.” She kissed his head.

  He shoved in a bite and said around a full mouth, “Damn, I forgot how much I loved Spam.”

  Now it was Tater’s turn to nearly spit his coffee. Rylen stayed quiet, but kept a small smile on his face. Knowing him, he was hurting terribly, but glad to be surrounded by friends and family, and glad everyone was happy.

  When we were finished, Mom looked from me to Remy to Livia and said, “All right girls. Time to wash your hair. I boiled a huge pot of water before breakfast and it’s cooling. Tater?”

  “Yes, ma’am?”

  “Carry that pot into the bathroom for me.”

  “Hooah.” He stood and did what she’d asked, and his tongue stuck out between his teeth as he concentrated on not spilling. Also, his biceps bulged from holding it up. Remy stared at him as he passed.

  “Gross.” I nudged her.

  She hissed in my ear, “When did you brother get so effing hot?”

  “Ew!” I hissed back, making her laugh.

  Remy, Livia, and I went in the bathroom. Mom came in and shut the door. She had spread out a row of towels on the floor in front of the tub. I took my shirt off so I was in my bra.

  “Are we getting nekkid?” Remy asked.

  “No, just your shirt,” I said, then I knelt in the middle of the tub.

  “All three of you,” Mom said.

  Remy took off her shirt to reveal a gorgeous pink lacy thing that unnecessarily pushed up her perky D-cup. They bounced when she kneeled next to me.

  “Show off,” I said.

  She giggled. “You’re not too bad yourself.” She poked the side of my black bra. I was more than a full B, but not quite big enough for a C. Mine looked miniature compared to hers.

  “Girls,” Mom scolded. She looked at Livia, who still stood, appearing frightened. Mom told her in Spanish, “You can leave your shirt on if you prefer. We’ll give you a dry one.”

  She seemed to consider and finally shook her head. Slowly, she raised her shirt over her head and I had to try not to stare. Not at her petite chest or the bones that showed, but at the greenish old bruises along her ribcage and collarbones. They looked like they were from severe injuries sustained a while ago. She squatted at my side and brought a hand up to her chest when she saw me looking. I quickly turned toward the tub.

  My God . . . what happened to her?

  Livia’s chin lowered as if in shame. This time when I turned to her, I met her eyes and gave her a smile. Then I leaned into the tub, pulled out my rubber band, and pushed my hair over my head. The other girls followed suit. Mom poured cups of warm water over our heads and we moaned and laughed as we worked our locks into lathers. We washed our faces too.

  “Mrs. Tate, you are my hero,” Remy said when we were done and towels were wrapped around our heads. She gave Mom a huge hug. Livia thanked Mom and slipped her shirt back over her damp head before heading out of the bathroom.

  “What happened to her?” Remy whispered.

  Mom and I both shook our heads and shared a sad look.

  “I don’t know,” she said.

  “Me either. It must have happened in Guatemala.” I knew there were things Rylen wasn’t telling us, and it was none of our business.

  We took off the towels and hung them, then brushed our hair.

  “What can I do today to help?” Remy asked my mom.

  “Well, it’s not much fun, but Abuela and I need to get some laundry cleaned. Just the essentials. We have to do them by hand.” She raised an eyebrow.

  “I’ll totally help!” Remy said quickly. “We’ll be like pioneer women.”

  Mom shook her head, clearly amused. “Try to keep that attitude. You’ll need it after the first hour.”

  “Gee, wish I could help,” I said. “But I’ve got to go to work.” I winked and Mom shoved me out of the bathroom. Thankfully my shirt was back on because I ran right into Rylen in the hall coming out of Tater’s bedroom. I forced myself not to jump away.

  “Hey,” I said. When he gave me his soft smile, I couldn’t help myself. I reached out and hugged him around the waist, enveloping myself in his smell. He fully hugged me back. Standing there in the otherwise empty hall felt strangely private despite a houseful of people. For a few seconds everything else was drowned out, and it was only us. Then I heard Tater’s laughter in another room and I slowly pulled away.

  “Thank you,” he whispered.

  “How are you feeling?” I shook my head. “Never mind . . . that’s a stupid question.”

  “No, it’s not.” He rubbed the blond hair along his jaw. “I’m pissed, to be honest. I’ve got a lot of questions and I doubt I’ll get any answers. But I’ll get by. Long as I have you guys.”

  “You’ll always have us.” I shuffled my feet. “Well, good luck this morning.”

  “Thanks.” He plucked my nose and we went our separate ways.

  See, I told myself. You can do this. Keep it sisterly. No big deal.

  Even though I’d told Livia she should visit the clinic, I was still surprised when I saw her. My face lit up in a true smile and I hugged her gently. We sat down in the small exam room, leaving the door open per the new rule.

  “How are you feeling?” I asked her in Spanish. “Any sickness?”

  “I feel sick all day, but I never vomit. I feel hungry all day, but when I try to eat it is too difficult. Except the sweet things from your brother . . .”

  “The PopTarts?” I asked. “You can have them all! They’re yours.”

  She gave an embarrassed laugh and looked down at her hands in her lap.

  “That is normal, what you’re feeling. I’ve heard it can be like that.” I took out the blood pressure cuff and got all of her stats. She was doing well. I got a bottle of prenatal vitamins for her. “You have to take these with food or they can hurt your stomach. You can start with just half a pill.”

  She took it and gave me a grateful smile, then stared down at the bottle. “Ry-len, he worries. I want to be healthy for him.”

  “He’s going to be such a good dad.” It just sort of slipped out. I stared at the bottle of vitamins too. “I’ve always thought that about him.”

  “He loves you.”

  I looked up at her, shocked. “Yeah. I’m like a sister to him.”

  She stared at me in a hard calculating way that took me by surprise. “You love him too.”

  In my nervousness I slipped back into English. “I . . . I mean, yes, I do, but not—”

  “Es okay. I know.” She responded in English too. She pointed to her eyes. “I can see.”

  “Livia,” I said. My heart felt like it would explode with each pound. I forced myself to concentrate on speaking Spanish again. “It is nothing like that. I swear.”

  “I believe you. But Rylen was not planning marriage. He saved me, but ruined his own life.”

  “Wha—” I shook my head. “No. What do you mean, he saved you?”

  Her face . . . I watched as her eyes unfocused, as if thinking about the past, and a grimace appeared, making her close her eyes. “My father. He was ashamed of me. He punished me in our market street for everyone to see. I was a helper to our doctor, much like you, and the doctor . . .” She swallowed hard, her eyes glistening. “My father wanted me to marry him. To seduce him so he would marry me.”

  She sucked in a breath and covered her mouth. Her other trembling hand went to her stomach.

  “Oh, my God,” I whispered.

  “The baby is not Rylen’s,” she said. “The doctor made me his lover, but he would not marry me. He told my father I was a whore, and my father needed to punish me in public to keep our family name clean.”

  “Wait.” My voice was low and dangerous, filled with anger. “Your father gave you those bruises?” I had never been more appalled.

  She nodded. Her eyes fluttered open, filled with moisture. “I tried to fight. My cousins held me down. He cracked my bones. I was choking on blood, but Rylen stopped him.”
r />   My heart was in my throat, pounding uncontrollably.

  “Excuse me,” came a sweet voice from the doorway. Mine and Livia’s heads spun toward the face of our DRI woman. To my horror, she looked straight at Livia and began speaking in perfect, polished Spanish. “My dear, it is my job to keep records for all of our town. I could not help but to overhear—did you say that the child you carry is not your husband’s?”

  I was on my feet, feeling like I’d been doused in fire. I opened my mouth and the DRI lady looked straight at me. “Don’t speak,” she said lyrically. “I am addressing Mrs. Fite.”

  My mouth hung there, the words dead before they left my throat. I felt all of the anger deflate from my chest, leaving me with a cool numbness.

  “This will stay completely private,” the woman told Livia. “Just between us. Was the father of Guatemalan heritage, like yourself?”

  Livia confirmed this, looking worried.

  The DRI woman’s voice softened, taking on a gentle tone I wasn’t used to hearing from her. “And how do you feel about this pregnancy?”

  Oh my freaking . . . hell no . . . why was my mouth not working? This line of questioning was highly unprofessional.

  Sweet Livia shrugged, seeming to struggle. The woman stared hard. “It seems you are not happy.”

  Livia dropped her gaze, and the woman nodded.

  “I see. Okay, then. Have you had your vaccination for the Red Virus?”

  Liv confirmed. “Sí.”

  “Good, that’s good. Well, I have one more preemptive shot to give pregnant women in these trying times. It is full of vitamins and minerals and will guard you against several flu strands.”

  I narrowed my eyes, overcome with apprehension, and my voice finally burst out. “What shot is this?”

  “It’s new,” she said without looking at me. She pulled out a plastic container with a single dose needle inside. My heart began to pound again.

  “What’s the name of it? I’ve never heard of it before.”

  Now she looked at me. She had lost her smile. “Are you an expert on all things, Miss Tate? Are you an obstetrician?”

  “Of course not, I just—”