He pinned her with his watery gaze and pointed down the hall. “Go,” he said. “Do not come out. Understand?”
She nodded, scrambled to her feet, and raced for the bathroom, peeking over her shoulder in time to see her father open the door and a tall man, his face shadowed by the brim of a baseball hat, step into the apartment. She slipped inside the bathroom, heart racing. Had he seen her? They weren’t supposed to know she was there, and if the man saw her, her dad would be angry. She peeked through a crack in the door. She could see the man’s face now in the light from the kitchen, and she felt her breath whoosh out in a relieved sigh. She remembered him from the hospital—he wasn’t like the others. She closed and locked the door anyway, like her father always told her to do when someone came over.
She climbed into the grimy bathtub, pulled the torn plastic curtain shut, and counted the drips from the faucet until her father knocked on the door. The bare light bulb above the sink buzzed and flickered. She stared at it through the thin plastic and listened to the water plink into the tub. One. Two. Three. From outside the bathroom came raised voices, one begging, one angry. She curled into a tiny ball and covered her ears with her hands, rocking back and forth, her pajamas wet, her feet sliding on something slimy.
Wake up, Star. Wake up. Wake up.
The door flew open, hitting the edge of the small bathroom counter, and her father stood on the other side of the curtain. The metal rungs scraped across the bar when he opened the curtain. He loomed large above her, his chest heaving, hands held out in front of him. His head dangled at a sick angle, his neck a pattern of black-and-blue fingerprints. His mouth twisted into something ugly, and he stepped toward her saying the same thing over and over.
Your fault. Your fault. Your fault.
Star screamed, and everything went black.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
JESS
She sat on the edge of the bed, rubbing lotion into her hands and massaging the scars on her wrist. She frowned. Her bonsai trees had gotten worse, their color dull and the edges of the leaves thin and browned. Had it been only yesterday when Star pointed out that they were dying? In some ways it seemed like the trees and Star had been around for a long time.
She slid under the covers and let her head fall back into the pillow with a sigh. Tomorrow she’d move the plants to the sitting room, where the light was better. She yawned and closed her eyes, and her last thought before she fell asleep was of Star and her mother and bonsai trees.
In her sleep, the scream was muted and soft, and it took her a while to shake the thickness that fogged her mind. But when it came again, Jess sat bolt upright. Her heart pounded against her chest, and she scrambled out of bed, stumbled to the door. The screams quieted into pathetic whimpers that seemed to come from every corner of the hallway. Lucy? She ran down the hall and flung open her door. Lucy lay facing her, covers pulled up to her chin, eyes closed. Snoring lightly.
Jess closed the door and shook her head. Had she been dreaming? Then the scream again. A girl sounding shrill and terrified. Star. Jess hurried down the stairs, heart beating fast. The kitchen was empty, the sitting room dark. She must be in the library. She rushed to the door and twisted the handle, but it wouldn’t budge. Locked.
Keys. Lucy had a master set of keys in a drawer in the kitchen. Jess hurried to the kitchen, pulled out the drawer under the calendar, and grasped the keys with shaking hands. The hollowness of Star’s cries sucked the air from the room. Jess fitted a key into the lock and turned. The library was pitch black. When she flung on the overhead light, the darkness seemed to resist it until eventually the room filled with a warm glow.
She found Star on the couch, lying on her side and curled into a fetal position. One hand covered her cheek and eye. Jess knelt down and pushed Star’s hair away from her forehead.
Asleep. The girl was asleep.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
STAR
A warm glow lit the insides of her eyelids, turning them a bright red and waking her up. Immediately she thought of her father, and a sob caught in her throat.
“Are you okay?”
Her eyes flew open. She lay on the couch with her feet on the rolled leather arm and the chandelier above spraying the room in light. Jess sat on one of the wide fabric chairs, her hair falling around her face and spilling over her shoulders, wearing blue pajama pants and a long-sleeved cotton shirt. She was really pretty, Star thought.
The deep wrinkle between Jess’s eyes made her look worried. “You were screaming. Did you have a nightmare?”
Star nodded but found she couldn’t quite form words yet, the dream of her father too real. She pulled a pillow into her lap and cradled it against her stomach.
“The door was locked,” Jess said.
Star shrugged. “I didn’t lock it.” She yawned and tried to find a clock in the room, but only books filled the walls. “What time is it?”
“Eleven thirty. Is everything okay, Star?”
The way she asked, with a hint of genuine concern, made Star almost break down. Almost. But what was the point in telling Jess anything about herself? She breathed in and felt stronger. Telling Jess wouldn’t change anything, but it would have her calling the cops in a heartbeat.
“I’m good, just fell asleep and had a nightmare—you know, like your average homeless teen invited to a mansion in the mountains by an old witch.” Star grinned, and the side of Jess’s mouth rose.
A moment later a look came over Jess’s face that made Star squeeze the pillow tight and jut her chin up. “What?” she said.
Jess cleared her throat. “Where did you sleep the night before last?”
Star straightened her shoulders, held Jess’s gaze. “Under a bench.”
“Why?”
Star was thrown by her question. It sounded like Jess thought she’d had a choice. “Because it’s where I belong.”
Jess gripped the arms of her chair and said so softly that Star almost didn’t hear, “You belong in a family.”
“Most families don’t want a girl like me.” Star looked down at her hands, pulled at the tips of her fingers. “And not everyone deserves a family anyway.” It had slipped out so fast. Star fought an urge to clap a hand over her mouth.
“Kids do,” Jess said softly.
Star kept her eyes trained on her hands, and the silence between them lengthened.
Jess stood suddenly. “I have a job for you.”
Star snorted, looked up. “You want me to walk you around the lake too? Aren’t you a little young for that, Jess?”
She smiled. “Smart-ass. No, I’d like you to save my bonsai trees.”
Star swallowed hard. “What?”
“You said they were dying, and I don’t want them to die. The other day it seemed like you knew a thing or two about bonsai, certainly more than me. So I figured it couldn’t hurt to ask. My thumb is more brown than green.” Jess gave her a soft smile.
She felt her cheeks heat up and her eyes burn. She couldn’t save Jess’s bonsai trees any more than she could save her friend. “Sorry, I don’t think I can help. It’s probably too late to do anything for them anyways.”
Jess sighed. “You could be right. But I’m moving them to the sitting room tomorrow, and if you feel like it, you can take a look at them. Who knows? Maybe they’re not totally past saving.” She stood and moved toward the door. “Hungry?”
Star’s stomach growled in response. “Starving.”
“I make great pancakes.” She checked her watch. “And they happen to taste even better at midnight. C’mon.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
JESS
The next morning Jess knocked on Lucy’s door, breakfast tray in one hand, the Denver Post rolled and tucked under an arm.
“Come in, come in,” Lucy called.
“Good morning.” She was surprised to find Lucy out of bed and sitting by the window that framed the lake. The ice-melt barrel had, in fact, fallen through on her first day in Pine Lake, and
she had noticed that when the lake began to melt, it melted fast. Today was a clear day, and the water, poking through the last remaining bits of ice, sparkled like a jewel. “You’re up early.” She set the tray on the small table by the chair, smoothing out the paper before handing it to Lucy.
“How did our girl do on her second night?”
“Other than screaming so loud she nearly woke the fish in the lake?”
“It didn’t wake me.” Lucy smiled and sipped her coffee.
“She’s still sleeping.” Jess had rapped on her door early this morning when she passed it on her way downstairs, but Star had yet to emerge. “Or she took off during the night with the good silverware.”
Lucy clucked her tongue. “You don’t care for her?”
“It’s not that at all.” She looked down at her hands. “If she were my daughter . . .” Her throat closed briefly, and she paused. If Star were her daughter, Jess would wrap her arms around her, pull her close, and tell her everything would be okay. After hearing Star’s pitiful screams last night, she’d had to fight the urge to do just that. Jess felt her face harden. She used to lie with Chance at bedtime while he said his prayers and afterward when she kissed him good night, tucked the comforter under his arms and legs, and told him she loved him with all her heart. He’d blow her a kiss and tell her she was the bestest mom ever. She swallowed hard. She’d loved being his mother, but she would never do it again. She didn’t deserve to be someone’s mom.
“I’m worried for her, Lucy. What if her mom is out there wondering if she’s okay, waiting for her to call and come home?” Jess thought of her own childhood, closed her eyes. That wasn’t fair of her. She knew better than most how unfeeling a mother could be. “Besides that, she’s a minor, a missing person. You could get into serious trouble for having her here.”
Footsteps sounded from the hallway and then Star’s voice. “I don’t want to get you in trouble.” She leaned against the doorframe, her small form enveloped by her long white nightgown. “I’ll leave today,” she said.
“No, you won’t.” Lucy’s voice was firm. “I invited you here, and here you will stay.” She jerked a thumb in Jess’s direction. “Ignore my jailer.”
Jess crossed her arms. Lucy didn’t see the whole picture. “Your heart’s in the right place, Lucy. I know you’re trying to do the right thing.” She turned to Star. “But there must be someone out there worried about you, and if home isn’t a safe place, there are systems in place to help you. Lucy and I would make sure that you get all the help you need.”
Star entered the room, kneeling on the floor in front of Lucy and ignoring Jess. “Thank you for everything, Lucy. I haven’t had two nights of sleep like that in a long time. But I’m okay on my own.”
Echoes of Star’s cries from the night before and the image of her small body curled into a protective ball overcame Jess. Luck was the only thing that had allowed Star to survive homelessness. “There must be someone worried about you,” she said in a softer tone. “Do you really prefer the streets to your home?”
Star rose to her feet and whirled around, her eyes dark blue and hard. “You don’t know anything about me.”
The words were tough, but she winced at the way Star’s voice cracked, and Jess couldn’t fathom sending her away. Yet staying with Lucy was a false hope that would eventually drain whatever reserves the girl had used to survive on her own. “Someone will question who you are,” she said gently. “What happens then?”
“Not if you don’t tell them,” Lucy said.
“What?”
“Lie,” Lucy repeated. “Make up a story; nobody here knows her.”
“But you hardly know her—”
“You really don’t,” Star agreed, and Jess looked at her in surprise, noticing how the stiffness in the girl’s shoulders had relaxed as though she was relieved. “But to be fair”—she gave a half smile—“for all I know, you’re both witches who want to try me out in some great new recipe.”
Lucy stood, her face split into a broad grin. “It’s settled, then. We hardly know one another.” She walked out of the room, and her voice trailed from the hallway. “Come along, then. I think you should check the calendar. You two have a busy morning ahead of you.”
Jess pressed her lips together.
Star stared after Lucy with her eyebrows raised. “She’s a little bit crazy, isn’t she?” she whispered.
“Yes, I think she might just be. Or maybe we all are.” She picked up the tray of untouched food. Pine Lake was the kind of town where everyone knew each other. But nobody here knew Star, or Jess for that matter. She thought of the way Star’s bony shoulders poked out of the nightgown. Could it really hurt to keep her here for a while? She heard the rumble of Star’s stomach and cocked an eyebrow in her direction. “Hungry again? I’ve got waffles downstairs.”
Star’s face lit up, and she sprang to her feet, the ridiculous nightgown billowing behind her. Jess smiled and followed her into the kitchen. She’d have to be made of stone not to be charmed by her unsettling mixture of tough girl and guarded innocence.
“Phoebe is coming over this morning.” Lucy was peering out the window when Jess walked into the kitchen. “She’ll be here any minute.”
“Phoebe?” Star spoke around a mouthful of waffles and strawberries.
“Yes, she comes over to play cards once a week,” Jess offered. “But she’s told me to call her Ebee, so I suspect she’ll tell you the same.”
At her narrow-eyed look of confusion, Jess clarified, “She was with us that day we met you.” She coughed, finding it hard to reflect back on the first time they saw Star because it made her face what she hadn’t let herself believe then—that the girl had no one.
Star took another bite of waffle, seeming not to care one way or another.
The doorbell rang, and Lucy shuffled out of the kitchen to answer it. Moments later she returned with Ebee, who wore a yellow-and-blue tie-dyed shirt under her denim overalls. Jess smiled. She enjoyed Ebee’s wardrobe as much as her company.
Jess handed her a cup of coffee. “Almond milk this time. I remembered.”
“Just the way I like it. Thank you.” Ebee turned to Star. “You’re here.”
Star pushed her empty plate away and wiped her mouth. “I was invited,” she said, and crossed her arms like she expected Ebee to dispute the fact.
Ebee nodded, her eyes bright with amusement. “And you are very spirited. I like that about you.”
Star shrugged back and drank the rest of her orange juice. “Ebee’s a weird name.”
Ebee laughed. “I know! But my younger sister couldn’t figure out how to say Phoebe when she was little, so she started calling me Ebee, and I guess it stuck.” She studied Star, who ran a finger through the syrup on her plate, then licked it off. “But you can call me Phoebe if you’d like. Lucy does.”
“Ebee’s cool,” Star said, and licked another glob of syrup off her finger.
Ebee smiled at her. “Good, glad we have that settled. I have a few things for you.” She handed over a small grocery bag, winked. “Lucy said you might be a tad low on clothes. It’s not much, just a shirt and a pair of jeans.”
Star’s face reddened when she took the bag. “Thanks,” she mumbled.
Jess sucked in her bottom lip. Her friend Marissa from across the hall used to give her clothes she claimed she didn’t wear anymore, even though some still had tags on them. And Tamara from 3C would leave freshly washed and folded boy’s clothes outside her door a few times a year. If she wanted to keep both her and her son in clothes that fit and weren’t thin with holes, Jess had to accept their gifts. But it wasn’t easy. She understood Star’s embarrassment more than most.
Star pulled out a pink-and-purple tie-dyed shirt emblazoned with a pair of dancing bears and held it up to her face, inhaled, and smiled. “It smells like dreadlocks and laundry detergent,” she said. “It’s perfect.” She studied the shirt and frowned. “What’s the Grateful Dead?”
“Lucy!” Ebee said. “Shame on you! You bring this child into your home, but you don’t give her a musical education?”
Lucy laughed. “She’s only just arrived, Phoebe. And I’m too old to be hippie-dippie like you.”
Ebee turned to Jess. “I understand that the plan is to keep Star’s visit on the down low, is that right?”
Jess raised her eyebrows. When had Lucy had the chance to tell Ebee their plan? “For the time being,” Jess said, without looking at Star. “Until we can find Star a more permanent place to stay. For now, the only people in Pine Lake who know are you, me, and Lucy.”
“And Jeremy,” Star said in a small voice.
Jess breathed through her teeth, turning to Lucy. “What about Ben?” The police officer seemed to have a vested interest in Lucy. But Jess was sure that if he found out, this whole idea would end quickly.
Lucy nodded as though Jess had correctly answered a trivia question. “Yes! What about Ben?”
Jess narrowed her eyes. Did she really need to spell out the obvious? “He’s law enforcement. I doubt he’ll be able to ignore the fact that Star’s a runaway, no matter how close the two of you are.”
Lucy frowned, turned her gaze to Ebee. “We were close,” she said. “But I didn’t help him the way I was supposed to.” She rubbed the pale skin on the inside of her wrist, mirroring Jess’s own habit.
The light dimmed, like a cloud had passed over the sun, and the temperature in the kitchen plummeted. Jess shivered and tried to rub the gooseflesh from her arms. This old house invited the cold inside.
“Help him how?” Jess asked.
“You always said it would work out in time, Luce,” Ebee said in a low voice. “Maybe it’s just not been his time yet.”
Lucy and Ebee stared at each other, and to Jess the pair appeared to be locked in a silent argument. Star shifted beside her, and Jess noticed how she twisted the dancing bears shirt in her hands and stared at Lucy, who had turned so pale her skin looked almost gray against her bright-red hair.
“Lucy?” Jess said. “Are you okay?”
The Secrets of Lost Stones Page 14
