by Cole McCade
Willow put the broom away in the closet, then gently pressed down on Leigh’s shoulder. “Sit. Let me look at your feet. You’re tracking blood all over the carpet.”
Leigh couldn’t help a smile that felt completely and utterly insane. “Because the blood’s going to ruin it, right?”
Willow’s lips twitched, and she let out a nervous little snicker—only to burst into laughter. Her laughter was infectious, soft, and Leigh caught herself chuckling before she gave in to laughter that shook her like it would break her, more of a catharsis than the deepest sobs. Together they sank onto the tatters of the couch, leaning on each other and laughing with a sort of relieved desperation. By the time it was over Leigh almost felt human again, even if that human might not be the same one who’d woken up yesterday morning.
“Oh, God,” Willow said, wiping at her eyes and grinning. “He’s going to shit a brick when he comes home.”
“And I hope it tears his asshole from front to back on its way out,” Leigh answered, which set Willow off in giggles again.
A dark head of hair peeked around the hallway. “Can I come out now?” Elijah asked, and Leigh held out her arms.
“Sure, baby. Come on.”
While Willow touched her shoulder again and rose to disappear into the bathroom, Leigh gathered her son into her lap and held him close, a book clutched against his chest. Willow returned with wet towels, Neosporin, and a box of gauze bandages; Leigh felt strange with the girl kneeling before her, gently wiping off her feet, but she’d spent so long rejecting kindness as pity that she couldn’t bear to be spiteful enough to pull away. Not this time.
Elijah watched with wide eyes, first studying Willow, then looking around the wrecked living room. “What happened?”
“I’m not even sure.” Leigh met his worried eyes with a smile. “It’s okay. What’re you reading?” He held up the brightly-colored book: Harold and the Purple Crayon. Leigh traced her fingers over the cover. “Can you read some of it to me?”
“I don’t know how to say some of the big words.”
“That’s okay.” She squeezed him tight. “I’ll teach you.”
Leigh had never thought one of the happiest moments of her life would be sitting in the middle of her husband’s destroyed living room, listening to her son’s soft voice and coaxing him through sounding out syllables, while Willow bandaged her feet—even if she couldn’t bandage that ache that said Jacob had damaged something inside her. But she let herself enjoy the moment. Likely the last moment of peace she would know for a long time, once Jacob came home. When Willow was done, the girl sat next to her and listened as well, until the last page of the book had turned with a shushing whisper of paper on paper.
When the book closed, Willow tilted her head back against the couch seat, looking at Leigh. “He paid me to watch you, you know.”
Leigh smiled bitterly. “I’m not surprised. I can’t be trusted.”
“But…you want to stay with Elijah, right? I mean…that…that’s important to you?”
Leigh nodded, frowning; why was the girl looking at her that way?
Willow looked down, picking at her fingernails. “My Dad called while we were on the way home. He needs me to go to the pharmacy for him. Multiple sclerosis, it…he needs his medication. I’ll only be gone for half an hour. Mr. van Zandt will probably be home within the hour, and…and…” Her face crumpled, before settling into a sweet, yet strained smile. “That’s not long, is it?”
“No,” Leigh said, as understanding dawned. “It’s not.”
Willow took a hitching breath; her eyes gleamed, but still she kept smiling. “If you want to give him a snack, he hates bananas, but he loves grapes. Only the green ones, though. Not the red. And he—he likes to eat his sandwiches crust first in circles. His favorite is turkey and mustard on wheat, no cheese.” She reached out and took Elijah’s little hand in her own. “And he likes it when I read Where the Wild things Are before bed.”
“But you’ll be back before bedtime, right?” Leigh asked, meeting the girl’s eyes.
“Right.” Willow’s voice broke. “But maybe you could read it to him tonight. It’s on the shelf in his room.”
Leigh’s heart beat faster. Was Willow really doing this? Was she really suggesting…? “Okay,” Leigh said. “I understand. I…what will you tell him?”
“I’ll figure something out. But there won’t be anything to tell him, right?” Willow stood abruptly, scrubbing her clenched fists against her jeans. “I…I’d better go.” She just stared at Leigh and Elijah for a moment, before sinking to one knee and holding out her arms. “Come here, Elijah. Give me a hug.”
Elijah looked up at Leigh, then slipped out of her lap and tumbled into Willow’s arms. Willow held him tight with a shaking sound that bordered on a whimper, closing her eyes and pressing her face into his shoulder, before pulling back and kissing his forehead, slim fingers smoothing his hair back with a wavering smile. “You were always my favoritest most bestest little boy. Don’t you ever forget that.”
She let Elijah go slowly, and Leigh gathered him close again, watching the girl and kicking herself for ever cursing her as just the nanny, as the woman who had won her son’s love. Leigh hadn’t expected to find a friend in Willow, let alone one so brave, but maybe people weren’t as easily packaged up as she’d used to think.
Willow turned away. Leigh bit her lip, then ventured, “Willow…?”
The girl stopped without looking back. “Yeah?”
“I see why he loves you so much. Thank you.”
Willow’s head bowed. Her shoulders shook. “Just make sure to love him enough that he doesn’t need me anymore.”
She nearly ran from the townhouse. The door slammed closed, leaving Leigh and Elijah alone. Leigh couldn’t move. Willow had all but told her:
Take Elijah and go.
The girl had deliberately given her a window. No calling the cops this time. Someone to cover for her. And maybe, just maybe, this time she might pull it off.
As long as Gabriel was willing to hide them.
She closed her eyes and pressed her face into Elijah’s hair, her heart stuttering roughly. Would Gabriel even want her back? Or would he turn her away and tell her she’d lost her chance, and he didn’t want her kid or the nuisance of two fugitives? If…if that happened, she’d go to Gary. He might cover for them long enough for her to fall off the cops’ radar, get out of Crow City, and disappear. But one way or another, she couldn’t do this alone—though she didn’t know how to accept help even when it was offered. She’d have to learn. She’d been trying to do everything on her own for so long.
She’d never thought the hardest choice of her life would be learning to need someone else.
But she didn’t have much time. She coaxed Elijah to his feet and slid off the couch, wincing as she set her bandaged soles down on the carpet. “Come on, sweetheart. We have to move fast.”
She took his hand and led him down the hall. “Where are we going?” he asked.
Leigh stopped and closed her eyes. Part of her wanted to just grab Elijah and run, but that had landed her in this mess. It was his life, too. His choice. And Jacob wasn’t the best father, but he still was Elijah’s father.
She sank down to her knees and gripped his shoulders gently, looking up at him with a smile. “Baby, I…” She wet her lips. “I need to have a serious talk with you. And maybe you’re not old enough to understand, but I have to try.” Yet she struggled for words, struggled to figure out how to make a four-year-old, even an extremely bright four-year-old, understand. “I have to leave. Daddy hurt Mommy in a way you should never, ever hurt anyone without their permission, and I have to leave. I want to take you with me. I want to be your Mommy forever. But if you want to stay with Daddy, I won’t force you to go.” She stroked her knuckles to his cheek. “Do you want to come with me, or stay with Daddy?”
Those solemn brown eyes searched her face. He considered with as much gravity as any adult, then said,
“I want to go with you.”
Leigh’s heart felt like it would burst. “Okay,” she said with a broad smile, standing and taking his hand. “Okay, baby. Then we need to hurry.”
She ducked into his room and rummaged until she found his little backpack, and stuffed it with several changes of clothes, shoes, his toothbrush, books. She found Where the Wild Things Are and tucked it into the bulging bag, then helped him sling it to his back.
“Hang on to this for me, baby. Wait out here.”
She left him in the hall outside the guest room. She didn’t want him to see the blood on the bed, the scene of the crime. As quickly as possible, she gathered her things, checked the money in the bottom of the backpack, and pulled on double-layered socks and her boots. Then she took Elijah to the kitchen and shoved as much packaged food and bottled water and juice boxes as could fit in her backpack. They might have to lay low for a few days, not even coming out to buy food. She strapped her backpack to her back and led Elijah to the patio door. She couldn’t risk a bus or a cab—more people who might tell the police later that they’d seen her, and which way she’d gone. The Greyhound station was right out. She’d go out the back, cut through back yards, disappear into alleyways, and run right for Gabriel’s garage.
Squeezing Elijah’s hand, she offered him a smile. “Mommy needs you to run, okay? We’ll race. Show me how fast you are.”
Elijah’s lips tentatively spread into the sweetest smile she’d ever seen. “Okay.”
Leigh grinned and tightened her grip on his hand. “Go!”
They bolted across the back yard, laughing. Elijah’s little legs pumped like mad to keep up with hers. At the fence she picked him up and swung him over, then hauled herself up, ignoring the searing bolt of pain shooting up between her thighs and dropping down to the grass in the neighbor’s yard.
“Keep running!”
They sprinted across yard after yard, diving behind bushes and dodging around play sets and jumping fences. When they broke out onto the street, Leigh gathered Elijah into her arms and ducked into a side street, leaning breathlessly against the wall.
“You okay?” she asked, and he nodded quickly, flushed and grinning.
“Uh-huh.”
“Stay close to me, now.”
She cut through the back streets of the Rooks, leading Elijah west toward the Ravens, checking the time on her little shit phone every few blocks. Jacob would be home any minute now. She didn’t know what Willow would tell him, but there’d probably be a very narrow window before he called the police. He wasn’t stupid. He’d know. And he might not want her back, but he’d want what he thought she stole from him.
“You were never his,” she whispered, tightening her grip on Elijah’s hand. “You were always mine. Stay close, baby. Stay close.”
They were almost to the outskirts of the Rooks by the time she heard the first sirens. She’d just been stepping out onto the street when the high wail split the descending golden light of dusk; her blood iced over and she ducked back into the alley, flattening against the wall and covering Elijah’s mouth.
“Shh,” she whispered. “Shh, shh, shh.”
The sirens grew louder. She held her breath and prayed as the first red and blue lights splashed against the mouth of the alley, reflecting off the brick. Deafening noise crashed over her as black and white squad cars went racing past. Not one slowed or stopped. They might not even be after her. They could be responding to a robbery or emergency, or God only knew what else.
But she couldn’t take the chance.
Elijah whimpered. She dropped her hand from his mouth and held him close, waiting. Counting to a hundred again, listening for the cops to circle back around, but they didn’t come. She scooped Elijah out and slipped around the corner, and ran into the deepening dusk.
Blackbird Pond was only a few blocks away, but those blocks felt like endless miles when her cut-up feet throbbed painfully in time with her torn insides. Leigh scurried through the streets, always keeping one eye over her shoulder, listening for the banshee to howl her name. Elijah stumbled after her, but didn’t complain once. He only clung to her side, while she forced herself to slow down. She avoided the street lights and crept between buildings, peering around the side. The garage was dark, in the last of the fading light; the door had been rolled down. No—no, he had to be here. It was hours before he closed. He was supposed to be here, waxing the Firebird with his hair falling into his eyes and his shoulders rippling with that quiet strength she needed to feel safe right now, when she’d just throw everything to the wind.
She led Elijah to the front of the garage and tried the glass door leading into the storefront; it was locked, the bell jangling as she shook it. She peered through the glass. “Gabriel?” She pulled it again, then tried the roll-down door, banging against the steel until it billowed and rattled. Nothing. She let out a moan, feeling her will melt into a heavy gray sludge. Shoulders sagging, she rested her brow to the cool steel. “No…no, no, no, Gabriel, where are you—”
“Mama?” Elijah tugged on her hand. “I’m tired.”
Leigh forced herself to breathe. She couldn’t give up, not when she had her little boy with her. But the docks at the Upper Nests and Gabriel’s houseboat were on the other side of the city. Too far on foot when she couldn’t be on the streets after dark with her son, and she still didn’t dare risk a cab or public transportation. Time for plan B. She dragged up a smile, and sank to her knees to cup Elijah’s soft, round face in her palms. “I know, sweetie. I know. I’m going to take you somewhere where we can rest for the night. Somewhere safe. I just need you to keep up with me for a little bit longer, okay?”
“Okay,” Elijah said. “Okay.”
* * *
The walk to Gary’s had never seemed so long.
Leigh took the long way around to the Jackdaws, following side streets and slowing down for Elijah’s stumbling, tired legs, carrying him for as long as she could until her shoulders couldn’t take the strain of his weight and both their backpacks anymore. Twice they hid in the lengthening shadows of alleyways and shared animal crackers and Hi-C juice boxes, while police sirens spiraled by with their piercing scream. Leigh tickled under Elijah’s chin, then hefted him on her hip and straggled the last few exhausting blocks to Gary’s bar.
Until she saw the strobing flash of red and blue.
She swore under her breath, cradled Elijah close, and darted around the side of an adjacent building, then peered out. Three cop cars were parked in front of the bar, cherries and berries blinking, the crackle of the CBs coming through the open windows. A cluster of five police officers ringed Gary outside the front door, talking to him. It didn’t look confrontational, but they didn’t look particularly convinced of whatever he was saying, either. She should’ve known word of mouth would point the police back here. She was more than a familiar face in Gary’s bar. She was a fixture, and all it took was a one-night stand with a big mouth.
Her blood felt thin and cold and weak. She was running out of options, and she couldn’t keep standing for much longer. Not when she could feel that hot pain inside her, and the pad between her thighs was soaked and clammy. Maybe she could slip in the side entrance. Sneak upstairs, hide, wait for the cops to leave, ask Gary to find Gabriel to come get her.
“Mama?”
“Hush, sweetie,” she whispered, stroking his hand, and leaned around the wall again. The cops didn’t look like they were budging any time soon.
“Mama, I have to go.”
“Not yet, baby. Shh.”
“I have to go,” Elijah repeated, and she realized what he meant when she looked down to find him squirming from foot to foot with his legs clamped together.
“Sweetie, hold it for just a few minutes, please.”
Elijah whined softly. “I can’t.”
“Please—”
She smelled it before she saw it, the acrid stink of urine, before Elijah’s little jeans went dark around the crotch. He let out a whim
per that trailed into a sniffle, then a wail, rising high over the night and echoing off the walls of the buildings around them.
“Fuck,” Leigh hissed, and risked another glance around the corner.
Every cop was looking in her direction.
She made eye contact with one, then ducked back, cringing, holding her breath. There it was—the shout of recognition, accusation. She swore and caught Elijah up, cradling his head against her shoulder and muffling his tears.
“Shh, baby—shh, we’ve got to run.”
Pounding footsteps. She peeked over her shoulder, then ran, sprinting down the alley between the buildings with her heartbeat matching the tempo of her steps and the concrete slapping and jolting hard against her soles, and she wasn’t sure if the wetness soaking her socks was sweat or blood but it hurt. She burst out onto the next street just as sirens rose. Her gaze shot left, right. Nothing but shops, nowhere to hide. Flashing colored lights careened around the corner. She darted across the street, cutting through a gap in slow-moving traffic and clutching Elijah tight as she dove into another alley, too narrow for a car to follow. It couldn’t end like this, not again. She couldn’t repeat history this way.
Her breaths sobbed in her throat as she made herself run faster, even though her legs felt like they would collapse beneath her with each step and Elijah grew heavier with every moment. She didn’t even stop when she broke onto the next street, veering hard left. Maybe she could crawl into a dumpster or find an abandoned building, maybe she—
She froze, staring at a display window full of fluffy dresses underneath the orange DISKOUNT DESINES banner, then jerked and clasped Elijah closer as sirens sounded practically right on top of her. One look back showed blue and red barreling down.
She shoved the shop door open with a hard jingle of the bell and dove into the froth of ruffles and lace, crouching down under the racks and stroking Elijah’s back.
“Hush, baby, hush.”
Through a gap in the frills, she watched as those flashing lights went zipping past—one then two then three, their sirens clashing and jangling together into a deafening scream. Her stomach roiled into a thousand knots; her mouth tasted like battery acid. The cops didn’t slow. They hadn’t seen her duck inside. She closed her eyes, exhaling into Elijah’s hair.
