“Oh, Jess,” Ben said, but she noticed how he kept looking at Lucy, his face pale. “I’m so sorry. I—uh, I’m sorry I have to go.” He tipped his head, then stepped outside. The door clicked shut after him.
The kitchen was silent after he left, Ebee and Lucy staring at Jess with equal compassion and quiet patience. She dragged her nails across her wrist, over and over, wanting to feel her skin open up again. “I never knew why.”
“Why what?” Ebee said.
She met Ebee’s gaze. “Why he was outside that night, alone and not even wearing a coat. He knew he wasn’t supposed to leave the apartment.” She felt her cheeks grow wet as she talked. She started to wipe them away, then stopped. Fuck it. Lucy had been telling her it was okay to cry. “I think—” She swallowed. “I think he was on his way to find me, but I never found out why.” As soon as the words left her mouth, a door opened somewhere in her mind.
She hadn’t been able to concentrate during her shift at the diner, mixing up orders, dropping dishes, and the entire time trying to ignore the prickling that ran down her spine, curled into her stomach. The certainty that she shouldn’t have left him ate away at her until she couldn’t take it anymore, and she hurried from the diner, her apron still tied around her waist. She ran, despite the icy streets, throat tight, heart pounding. Before she even turned the corner and saw his limp form dusted in snow, she knew that it was too late. Knew it in the way a mother just knows. He was gone.
“Give her some water.”
A cold splash on her face shocked Jess back to the warm light of Ebee’s kitchen.
“I meant give her some to drink, not baptize her with it,” came Ebee’s voice.
Jess opened her eyes to Lucy and Ebee, staring at her, their faces etched with deep lines of concern.
She rubbed the back of her neck. “What happened?”
“You went elsewhere,” Lucy said.
Ebee gave Lucy a look, touched Jess on the shoulder. “You don’t talk much about Chance, do you?”
Jess shook her head, stood from the table. “I think I need to get back. Is that okay, Lucy?”
“Of course, dear.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
STAR
“Chance is here.” Jeremy had been repeating the same sentence over and over, looking around the room as he did. “Here. Like, right beside me?” He pointed to a spot on the floor by his knee. “Chance is right here.”
The flickering lights stopped, but the walls continued creaking, along with the sensation that the room had unanchored from the house.
Star nodded.
Jeremy’s hair flopped forward over his forehead. He blew it away with a long breath. “What does he want?” His voice was pitched high when he spoke.
“I don’t know.” But that was a lie. After the bonsai and now this article, she knew what he wanted, and she was too chickenshit to do it. She hung her head, shame burning her cheeks and bringing tears to her eyes. She was a coward, just like her father. When it came down to it, she was no better than him, maybe even worse.
Jeremy’s cheeks puffed up when he blew out a sigh. “Wow, that Lucy. She’s something, isn’t she? Does Jess know yet?”
Her hands curled into fists. “Does Jess know what?”
“About you and Chance? Lucy brought you two together, obviously, for a reason.” His eyes widened. “Oh man, could it be so you can have a home now too?”
Star pushed to her feet, wrapped her arms tight across her chest, and glared down at Jeremy. “You’re so stupid, Jeremy. You think Jess wants to know about me? That once she does we’ll all live happily ever after? That’s your kind of fairy-tale world, not mine!” She was shouting now, fueled by an anger that churned in her belly. “If Jess finds out who I am and what I did, I’ll—she’ll—” Her nostrils flared as she fought against tears. Feeling sorry for herself was pointless. She collapsed to the floor and sat cross-legged, letting her head fall into her hands. “She’ll want nothing to do with me.”
“Oh, Star. What did you do?”
She looked at him over the tops of her fingers, felt it begin to spill out, and she couldn’t stop herself. “It was all my fault.”
Chance hadn’t opened the door until her fourth knock, and when he did, she’d only meant to give him the card and bonsai tree and then leave, maybe hang out in the fort until she thought it was okay to go back home. She pulled at her sleeve, the memory so clear it could have happened yesterday. “I remember he smelled clean, like dryer sheets, and when I saw the two little cows behind him, I just couldn’t make myself leave.”
Jeremy cleared his throat. “What?”
It was such a stupid thing, but she was only a little girl and was starving for something good to come into her life. “There was a small light that glowed yellow, right above the stove. At the very edge of the light I saw a pair of tiny ceramic cows on the counter. They stood on their back hooves, one with an apron that said S and the other wearing an apron with a P.”
“Salt and pepper shakers?”
“Yeah. I know it’s stupid, but his apartment was nothing like mine. I mean, it was shabby and the carpet was frayed and later I noticed worse water stains on the ceiling than mine, but it was . . . um, it was—”
She heard Jeremy make a noise in his throat. “A home,” he finished for her, and her eyes burned because he understood. And then she was thinking about Jess and how she had hugged Star in the kitchen. That, too, had felt comfortable in a way that hurt now, when she was about to lose it all. She sniffed and pushed down the tears that tried to cloud her vision.
“I asked him if I could come inside, and I only meant to stay until it was safe to go home.”
“Safe?”
She met Jeremy’s gaze and for a moment saw herself through his eyes. A girl who had lived a life he’d only read about. A girl with a father who didn’t love her enough to stay sober. Jeremy waited patiently for her to answer, his eyes soft. She lifted one side of her mouth in a half smile. “My dad was a drug dealer. Sometimes they came to our apartment, and I didn’t like to be there when that happened because they scared me.”
“Oh man,” he said, and Star could see in the way his shoulders slumped that it was hard for him to hear, hard for him to picture her in that kind of situation. Chance had been like that. It made her want to hug Jeremy for his compassion. She stuck her hands under her legs instead.
Chance had smiled and led her to the kitchen table, where she ate oatmeal raisin cookies until her stomach hurt, and the thought of going back to her cold apartment with her dad and his cigarettes that burned and the needles and white plastic baggies made her stomach hurt worse. “Then I asked if I could live with him.” She hung her head at the memory.
“Oh, Star.”
Chance had responded like any eight-year-old kid with a heart like his. What? Wow, yeah! You can be my sister! My mom is so great, and I’m sure she’ll say yes. He’d made a face. Especially if you tell her about your dad.
“He set up a bed for me on the couch with a fuzzy blanket. I don’t remember thinking how impossible it all was; I just remember how happy it made me to think of living with Chance and his mom. There was just one thing I needed to get, one thing I wanted to take with me into my new family—my mom’s other bonsai. One for Chance and one for me, that’s how I imagined it. Like one of those friendship necklaces I’d seen girls wear with the stupid half of a heart, but tiny trees instead of a useless necklace. My father never cared about her trees, and I knew it would die without me, so I told Chance I’d be right back.” Here she paused, wrapped her arms across her stomach, and squeezed. What she wouldn’t give to do it all over again.
“Star?”
She ignored Jeremy and kept talking, letting her gaze settle on the floor. “He wouldn’t let me go by myself. He said that Jazz—that was his favorite Transformer—would never let a girl walk around the Lancaster at night by herself.” He’d taken her hand, and together they left his apartment.
Star had starte
d to cry as she spoke, so hard she was gulping for air. “If only we’d waited for his mom to come home. If only I’d never gone down there in the first place.” Jeremy had moved close, his hand rubbing small circles across her back. “If only my mom had never died, Chance would still be alive,” she ended in a hoarse whisper.
From the hallway came the sound of the front door closing and the soft murmur of voices. Lucy and Jess were home. Star wiped at her face with the sleeve of her shirt; a low humming had started in her ears.
“I don’t see how Chance dying was your fault, Star,” Jeremy said quietly.
She stood, her leg muscles twitching. She wasn’t ready to face Jess, didn’t want to leave Pine Lake or Lucy or Jess; even if it was a dream she could never have and didn’t deserve anyway, she wasn’t ready for it to end.
“Star?” Jeremy’s voice was edged in concern.
Her eyes shifted wildly about the room, looking for an escape. Jeremy stood, touched her shoulder. “I’m not going to say anything. It’s not my business, and I don’t think it’s how Lucy works, anyway.” His eyebrows met in the middle of his forehead. “It’s your loose end, Star—that’s what Lucy would say. But only when you’re ready.”
“You won’t think of me the same when you know.”
Jeremy stared at her, his mouth hanging open slightly.
The library door opened. “I see you found my box of newspapers!” Lucy said.
Jeremy closed his mouth and gave Lucy a wide grin. “We had to go into your basement!” he said.
Lucy laughed.
Jeremy looked at Star. “I’d better get going. I’ll see you at the usual time tomorrow for school.” He gave her a quick hug and left.
Lucy stood by the door, a folded-up crossword puzzle in one hand. She tilted her head and locked eyes with Star.
She rubbed at the skin on her face. Crying had made her eyes dry and puffy, and her body suddenly ached for sleep. “Where’s Jess?”
“She went on up to bed. It was a tiring evening, I think.” Lucy cleared her throat, slid her glasses on, and held up the crossword puzzle. “A four-letter word for a small building used to store things. Have you got an answer yet, Star?” She peered at Star over the rim of her glasses, her eyes a brilliant blue.
She shifted her weight, struggled to come up with something that didn’t include Chance or Jess or the accident. “I’m going to clean up here and then head up to bed.”
“Very well. Good night, then.” Her black skirts swung when she turned, but at the door she paused, looked again at Star. “It’s been a pleasure having you stay here with us, Star. I hope you’ve enjoyed it too.”
Star’s heart seemed to shrink in her chest. Was Lucy saying goodbye? She stretched her mouth into a weak smile. “I have, Lucy,” she said. She wanted to drop to her knees and beg Lucy to let her stay, but Star knew better. “It’s the first place that’s felt like home.” She hated herself for how pathetic it sounded, but the truth was just that.
Lucy’s eyes grew bright, but all she said was “Exactly!” and left the library.
Star stood for a few moments, unable to move or shake the feeling that it was all ending. She felt fragile, like she might shatter at any moment, and at the thought of returning to the streets she sank to her knees. Paper crinkled, and her eyes caught an article she hadn’t noticed before on the opposite page.
Residents Complain Lancaster Apartments Not Safe
Her heart thumped against her chest as she read the first few lines.
After a violent night at the Lancaster, residents demand increased police presence and a crackdown on the rampant drug problem that they say has made living in this downtown Denver apartment complex a nightmare.
The article didn’t specifically mention her father’s murder, but then again, a drug deal gone bad at the Lancaster was not breaking news. She found a pair of scissors in a small rolltop desk and cut out both articles, folding them in half and sliding them into her pocket.
CHAPTER FORTY
STAR
The house was quiet when she woke up the next morning. She found a note from Jess in the kitchen, next to a slow cooker full of steel-cut oatmeal and between small bowls of brown sugar and raisins. Forgot to tell you that Lucy has a doctor’s appointment this morning. Have a good day at school. See you this afternoon.
She stared at the note, one sentence in particular. Have a good day at school. Something a mother would say to her kid. She swallowed hard and pulled out the silverware drawer, her hand hovering over the spoons. A note from Lucy lay on top. Check the calendar. Star did. In the square for today it read, School canceled, stomach flu. She wrinkled her nose. Ew.
She ate slowly, thinking about the free time stretching ahead of her now. There was a writing assignment she could finish, math homework. Maybe she could even do some laundry for Jess. She’d like that, Star was sure of it, and she’d do anything to stay on Jess’s good side.
The oatmeal lost its flavor. How long could Star go on pretending that this was her new normal? She washed the rest down with a few sips of milk and rinsed the bowl out in the sink. Jeremy had echoed exactly what she’d been secretly hoping: that Lucy had brought them together to give Star a new family. But when she thought of Jess and the scars that ran across her wrist, Star knew that would never work. Once she knew the truth, Jess would never be able to see Star as anything more than the reason her son died.
Star rubbed her arms, sat down at the table. There was nothing she could do now, so she spread out her math book and began to work. A few minutes later, she noticed Lucy’s crossword puzzle lying on the kitchen table. She picked it up, studied the page. Most of the puzzle had been completed, and the answers, written in Lucy’s neat handwriting, made her skin break out in goose bumps: Star, Bonsai, Hit-and-run, Suicide.
Her throat turned dry. How was this possible? A few squares were still blank. She checked the clues on the side, her eyes landing immediately on four down, a six-letter word for accidental, serendipitous. The lead scratched the newsprint before she realized she knew the answer. Chance. Her fingers tingled. She read the next clue, one that Lucy had asked her last night, four letters, a small building used to store things. The pencil felt heavy in her hand, and she let it fall to the table. Whatever answers were left, Star didn’t want to know.
From behind her came a light clacking sound. She turned, heart racing. The small serving bowl of raisins lay upside down. She gripped the back of the chair, glanced into the foyer. Empty. The rubber soles of her shoes squeaked loudly when she approached the counter. She lifted the bowl. The raisins were clumped in the middle of the counter. Her eyes bugged wide. Was she seeing things? She blinked rapidly. No, the shriveled fruit had formed a crude shape. A five-pointed star.
A low moan escaped her lips, and she backed away from the counter. Her heel hit something on the floor, and she stumbled, turned. The foyer was covered in rocks, and the rocks had formed into dozens of five-pointed stars. She screamed and ran for the door, tugging on the handle, fear making her skin itch, throwing open the inner door, reaching for the outer door just as it was flung open, and she found herself staring directly into a uniformed chest. The small silver name tag said WATTS. She looked up and almost cried with relief. Officer Ben.
He held her by the elbows. “Are you okay? I was just outside when I heard you scream.”
“Yes, I’m fine.” Her breathing was jagged, so she took a deep breath, smiled. What could she possibly tell him that wouldn’t make her sound like a lunatic? “I-I thought I saw a bear, or something, through the window.”
“And you were running outside to see it closer?” He shook his head. “You and your aunt have a lot in common.”
“Ha ha, yeah.” She glanced over her shoulder. The rocks were gone. Had she imagined it? She shook her head, turned back to Officer Ben. “Lucy’s not here. Jess took her to a doctor’s appointment.”
He leaned heavily against the doorway, and from the way he pressed his lips together, Star thought
he was going to be sick. She took a step back, but the light from the foyer glinted off his badge, making her gasp. A five-pointed star.
She stared at it, then up at his face, lined in a different way than she remembered, then back to his badge. Memories that before had seemed like an unfinished quilt, scattered pieces of cloth with no connection, began to pull together into a pattern that she understood.
The hospital, her dad, the kind police officer—Ben. Lucy’s words from that first day in Pine Lake echoed in her head. It takes time for all the loose ends to be in one place, but once they are, things tend to move very quickly.
She began to laugh so hard she almost started to cry. For a moment, she felt the thinnest strand of hope tug on her heart. She’d found Ben’s loose end.
“Officer Ben?”
“Yeah?” He looked sad, his eyes, his mouth pulled down by a deep frown.
She studied him a moment longer, trying to remember his face from back then, but her childhood memories were patchy, and the ones that stuck were mostly the ones that hurt. This one, however, had stuck for a different reason. Because he’d been kind to her when she needed it most.
“I think you knew my dad,” she ventured. They still stood in the doorway, both doors open. Cold air hit the backs of her legs, flowing from inside the house and through the open doors. “Would you like to come inside?” she asked.
He shook his head, the lines in his forehead deep. “Your dad?” he echoed, sounding confused.
The first time she’d seen Ben was at the hospital after her dad’s overdose. The next time had been when she’d glimpsed him coming into the apartment before she hid in the bathroom. She was amazed she recognized him now, but she understood why she did. Chance. He’d been trying to get her to remember Ben. Was it to reassure her that not all adults were bad? An unfamiliar feeling fluttered in her belly. Could Chance want something good for her? She inhaled; maybe it was time she told the truth. Maybe Chance wanted her to be happy after all. “I was really young, but I think you were trying to help him.”
The Secrets of Lost Stones Page 23
