Right Where We Belong

by Brenda Novak

  She blew a strand of curly hair out of her face. “You have no idea. We left at four this morning and have been on the road ever since. According to MapQuest, it was only ten hours, but it took nearly twice as long traveling with two children in a vehicle that can’t go faster than fifty-five.” She peered through the front windshield again. “So...how do I get in? Do I go around? Is there another road or—”

  “’Fraid not,” he said. “This is it.”

  Her eyebrows shot up. “You mean I can’t reach the house?”

  “Not tonight. Someone will have to repair the bridge before you can cross, especially driving this beast.” He tapped the side of the heavy truck.

  She looked crestfallen. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

  “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but...no.” She was obviously disappointed, but there was no way he could change reality.

  She picked up her phone, then tossed it back in the seat and cursed under her breath.

  Her little girl’s eyes widened. “Did you say a swear word, Mommy?”

  “I said ‘shoot,’” she grumbled.

  “No, you didn’t,” her boy insisted.

  Gavin tried not to smile at the exchange. “What’s wrong?”

  “The battery on my phone is dead. I haven’t been able to charge it. The cigarette lighter in this truck doesn’t work. Neither does the air-conditioning, probably why they gave me such a good deal.”

  They’d been without air-conditioning on a day like this? That had to be another reason they appeared slightly frayed at the edges. “If you need to make a call, you can use mine.” He pulled his cell out of his pocket and put in the passcode before offering it to her. “Is someone planning to meet you and help you unload?”

  She waved off his phone. “No, it’s only me and the kids. I wasn’t planning to make a call. I was going to look for a motel. But maybe you know of one I should try.”

  “The Mission Inn is nice and reasonable.”

  “Is it far? How do I get there?”

  “Wait! We’re not staying?” her son broke in. “You said we were home. That we’d be able to get out!”

  “I have to go potty,” her daughter added in a whine.

  “I wasn’t expecting to run into a washed-out bridge, okay? Let me... Let me figure out where we can spend the night. It shouldn’t take much longer,” she told them, sounding exhausted.

  Gavin wiped the scratch on his arm again. “Look, why don’t you come in for a few minutes? I’ve got some soda—or juice if you prefer—for the kids. They can go to the bathroom and have a drink while we use my laptop to book you a room.”

  Her son opened the door as if he’d only been waiting for the invitation, but she grabbed hold of his arm. “Stay right where you are.”

  With a groan, he obeyed. “Why? He said we could have a soda.”

  She turned back to Gavin. “Thanks for the offer. I appreciate it. But we’ll just... We’ll be on our way.”

  How? he wondered. Turning that truck around wouldn’t be easy, not on this narrow road. She couldn’t use his driveway, not with such a tall van. The electrical wires were strung too low. She’d have to back up all the way to where she made the turn to begin with. “Are you sure?” he asked. “Because I don’t mind.” He lifted his hands to show that he was harmless. “I realize we’re strangers at the moment, but I am your new neighbor, so we’ll be getting acquainted soon.”

  When she hesitated, he got the impression she wanted to trust him but didn’t dare.

  “Backing down this road will be tricky,” he added. “Especially in the dark. I mean...maybe you drive semis for a living and are especially good at that sort of thing, but—”

  “No,” she broke in with enough exasperation to reveal what he’d already suspected: it’d been a challenge just to get them all to California without an incident. “I had to sell my car to avoid making this any more difficult by trying to tow it behind me.”

  “Then why risk wrecking into a fence or a ditch? I’d wait for morning, unless you’re determined to go tonight. I’ll get a flashlight and try to guide you out, if that’s the case.”

  She rested her forehead on the large steering wheel.

  “I really want a soda, Mommy,” her little girl said. “And I have to go potty!”

  “Come on,” Gavin coaxed. “Once we find you a room, I’ll drive you to town. You can leave the van here until morning, when you can get someone out to help you cross.”

  “Do you know of someone who could do that?” she asked.

  He gazed toward the creek in question even though he couldn’t see it for the dark and the trees. “I’m pretty good at temporary fixes. I’m sure, with the proper supplies, I could create something that will work.” Tomorrow would be Saturday, after all, so he didn’t have to go to New Horizons. He didn’t have set plans until evening, when he had a gig in Santa Barbara.

  “How much will it cost?”

  “Nothing for my labor. I don’t mind helping out. So...whatever the lumber and other supplies will be. You’ll need to get an actual building contractor for the permanent structure, though.”

  She sighed.

  He dipped his head to get her to look at him again. “I’m Gavin Turner, by the way.”

  “I’m Savanna. This is Branson and Alia.”

  She didn’t offer a last name, but he didn’t press her. “Happy to meet you. I’ve lived here for fifteen years and have never hurt a soul. You have no reason to be afraid of me.” He didn’t mention what he’d done before that. Some things were better left unsaid.

  “I’m not sure you’d tell me if you were an ax murderer, but...okay,” she said, and her kids scrambled out before she could change her mind.

  * * *

  Savanna watched Gavin carefully. He wasn’t overly large or imposing. Maybe five-eleven to six feet tall, he had broad shoulders and big hands but a thin frame and wore his dark hair in a man bun with a closely trimmed beard and mustache. To her, he looked like an artist or a musician—or maybe just a vegetarian (not that she’d known many of those in Nephi). Gordon had hated men who looked like Gavin, had made fun of their “hippie lifestyle,” especially if they had tattoos, and Gavin had plenty of those. Ink covered one whole arm—a big saxophone, a guitar and musical notes as well as the detailed face of some singer.

  Savanna knew if the man she’d married could be dangerous, anyone could. But Gavin’s face was so delicately sculpted, and he had such kind eyes—big and brown with a thick fringe of lashes—that it was difficult to be afraid of him. Even if he hadn’t given her the impression that he was a pacifist, his gentle manner would’ve put her at ease. He’d been teasing the kids since they came in. The way he interacted with them reminded her of her father, which made her think she was being paranoid to be so cautious of him.

  Evil people weren’t funny, were they?

  Not in her experience. Gordon had never had much of a sense of humor...

  “Sprite—or Pepsi?” Gavin turned his attention to her after he finally let Alia wrangle her soda out of his grasp.

  Savanna shook her head. “Neither, thanks.” Her stomach had been churning all day. It was anxiety and not true illness, but she didn’t see any point in exacerbating the problem by drinking loads of sugar and carbon dioxide.

  “What about a beer?”

  “No.”

  “Some water, then?”

  “That’d be nice.”

  He poured a glass from a chilled pitcher in the fridge. When he brought it over, she couldn’t help thinking—once again—about how quickly Gordon would’ve judged her new neighbor based solely on his looks. And yet it was all-American, wrestling-champion Gordon with the stocky build, lantern jaw, green eyes and short blond hair who’d been a danger to society. She’d seen the crime scene photos—the w
ay he’d battered his victims before and during each sexual assault. The detective had shown them to her, trying to upset her and shake her faith so that she’d talk more freely about him.

  Gavin popped open a beer and took a long pull. “So...what brings you to California?”

  When he glanced at her left hand, she realized he was checking for a wedding ring. Because she’d shown up out of the blue, and hadn’t given him much of an explanation, he was trying to figure out who she was and what she was doing in Silver Springs alone with two children, trying to move into an old, dilapidated house. “I’m no longer married,” she said, even though it wasn’t the answer to the question he’d voiced.

  He didn’t act surprised that she’d correctly interpreted his thoughts. “Is that new?”

  “Yes.” The divorce wasn’t final, but she didn’t care to go into the details. She didn’t consider herself married anymore; that was the salient part. Gordon had refused to sign the papers, was trying to convince her that he still loved her and was wrongly accused, but her attorney insisted that once he was convicted, especially of such heinous crimes, he wouldn’t be able to waylay the process any longer. The law would then be entirely on her side. “I’m starting over.”

  “Do you plan on living next door for any length of time?”

  “At least a year. I’m a half owner, remember? I figure I might as well take advantage of that. Why pay rent?”

  He looked pained when he said, “I see the logic. But how much did your father tell you about the condition of the place?”

  “I know it’s not in good shape. Fixer-uppers rarely are.”

  “I doubt this one’s even livable.”

  “That’s okay. I’m here to make it livable.”

  “Then you have some experience with renovating?”

  She took a drink of water. “No, but there’s a tutorial for everything on YouTube these days.”

  When he laughed, she couldn’t help smiling. She liked that he immediately knew she was joking. Gordon would’ve freaked out and set her straight on how difficult restoring a house would be. He’d always taken everything so literally. “Maybe there’s a video on how to back a twenty-foot trailer down a narrow country road in the dark,” he said, and opened his laptop. “Should we check?”

  “Why not? Might save you the trip into town,” she replied, but she could tell he wasn’t serious, either.

  “I don’t mind dropping you off.” He called up his browser and typed in “The Mission Inn, Silver Springs, CA.”

  “What’d you do for a living in Utah?” he asked while a list of links began to appear.

  “I was an administrative assistant in an insurance office.” She considered adding what Gordon had done to contribute—no way could they have survived on her income alone—but bit her tongue. The less she said about him, the better.

  “Oh, an administrative assistant. I should’ve guessed,” he said.

  “Guessed?” she echoed.

  “Office work. Contracting. It’s the same thing.”

  It was her turn to laugh. “What about you? What do you do for a living?” She gestured toward the guitar he’d carried in when he let them into his house. “Or does this give it away?”

  “I write and sing, gig now and then. But I also have a day job.”

  “Doing...”

  After he clicked on the website for the Mission Inn, he keyed the phone number into his cell. “Maintenance and repair at New Horizons Boys Ranch.”

  “You don’t mean ‘ranch’ as in ‘ranch,’ right? You’re talking about one of those boarding schools for teenage boys who act out?”

  “Yeah. We take in troubled kids. Quite a few have been through some traumatic—” he seemed about to say “shit” but substituted as he glanced at her children “—stuff. Others are just angry. Or narcissistic. Or both.”

  “They have boys ranches in Utah, too. My husband—my ex-husband now—was shipped off to one for a year.” She lowered her voice so that Branson and Alia, who were trading sips of their sodas, wouldn’t be likely to catch what she said. “I should’ve taken that as the warning sign it was and stayed away from him.”

  Her neighbor’s smile disappeared. “I graduated from New Horizons.”

  She felt her face begin to burn. Why had she said that? She’d decided not to talk about Gordon, not to drag all that negativity to this new location with her. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean... Well, everyone’s different. No two stories are the same.”

  “It’s okay,” he said, but from that moment on he was all business. He helped her get a room for a hundred dollars per night and delivered her, Branson and Alia to town.

  “Thanks for your help,” she said as they got out of his truck.

  “No problem.”

  She wished there was something she could say to cover for her earlier gaffe. She’d been tired and frustrated that she couldn’t get through to the house after making such a long drive, or she would’ve been more careful with her words. But he’d indicated he worked at New Horizons. She’d assumed he’d understand how conflicted, even dangerous, some of the boys who went to those places could be. She’d never expected him to say he’d been on the other side, as well.

  She thought about offering him another apology but figured it was better to let it go. “’Night.”

  3

  As long as the day had been, and as exhausted as she was from driving so far while trying to keep her kids happy and entertained, Savanna lay awake. Alia slept beside her and Branson slept alone in the other double, since he’d recently started wetting the bed. Fortunately, what Gavin had told her turned out to be true. The Mission Inn was a decent motel, as good or better than any in Nephi. So she wasn’t uncomfortable, just filled with restless anxiety. Relocating had been such a big decision. She’d taken her children away from everything and everyone they’d known so far. Now that she was back in California, she could only hope she’d made the right decision—for all of them.

  The fact that she hadn’t even known she’d have to cross a bridge to get to the house where they’d be living told her there would be other surprises. Would she be able to handle them?

  She hoped so, but Gordon’s betrayal had left her shaken. She’d never felt this unsure of the future. He’d essentially burned down her whole life.

  One day at a time. She had to live in the moment.

  But this moment would lead to the next moment, which meant the sun would soon rise, and she wasn’t prepared for the day. Her new neighbor hadn’t made any specific plans with her when he dropped her off, hadn’t given her a set time when he’d pick her up. He’d simply said, “See you tomorrow.” Had she offended him when she made that boys ranch comment? Would Gavin really come back? Or would she have to find someone else to help her cross the creek so that she could move in?

  She needed to get some sleep or she wouldn’t be able to cope. But the glowing numerals on the alarm clock between the beds mocked her reluctance to see the minutes pass. She turned the clock away and accidentally knocked her phone to the floor.

  As she checked to make sure it was still charging—she didn’t want to go another day without the conveniences it provided—she saw that her mother-in-law had sent her another hateful text, which must’ve come in while her phone was dead.

  How can you fire Gordon’s attorneys? Do you know what kind of defense he’ll get from a public defender? NO defense! Are you TRYING to send him to prison for the rest of his life?

  Supposedly, Dorothy was no longer drinking. But even if that were true, Gordon’s mother had cleaned up her act so late in life that she had no net worth. She eked out a living by working at a large discount store, but, as usual, she had nothing to give her son. She expected Savanna to use what she had left from her parents’ estate to provide Gordon with the best attorneys possible.


  Frowning, Savanna scrolled up and read several of the other texts her mother-in-law had sent over the past several weeks. She hadn’t answered any of them, nor had she picked up Dorothy’s calls. She knew Gordon’s mother was trying to use guilt to manipulate her. But it never ceased to amaze Savanna that Dorothy could think she was the one to let Gordon down. He’d let her down, in the worst possible way, but only after his own mother had screwed up his childhood.

  You’ve filed for divorce? Gordon hasn’t even been in jail a week. I should beat your no-good ass. If this is all the faith you have in him, he’s better off without you.

  Savanna wasn’t sure he was better off without her, but she was convinced of the opposite.

  Why won’t you pick up? How is avoiding me going to help the situation? You have my grandkids, for God’s sake! I have a right to see them.

  Except she’d never shown any interest in Branson and Alia before. She’d brought them a bag of candy occasionally when she’d come for dinner, but that had been the extent of her involvement in their lives. Savanna would never forget how upset Branson had been when his grandmother told him she’d attend his school play and then stood them up, calling two days later with some lame excuse that didn’t even make sense.

  How can you pretend to be a loving wife when you abandon Gordon so easily? He’s always worshipped the ground you walk on, been a good husband and father, and you do this?

  Was he being a good husband and father when he was out stalking women—attacking and raping them? How could Dorothy make such a ludicrous statement?

  But that was Dorothy. She never troubled herself much with reality.

  He would never have abandoned you in your hour of need. He would’ve believed in you and fought for you until the end—and you should be doing the same for him.

  The police had found Theresa Spinnaker’s blood in their van! Was Dorothy completely delusional?

  You coward! You won’t be able to avoid me forever.

  Dorothy had driven down from Salt Lake after that message, but Savanna had refused to let her in. When she’d started cursing and kicking the door, Savanna had called the police, who’d escorted Dorothy off the property. That was the night Savanna had received the worst text of all.