Summer by the River

by Debbie Burns

  “Oh, Francie.” She shook her head, willing away tears that wanted to press in. “She was so good to us. Right from the start.”

  “You were good to her too.”

  Josie released a long, controlled breath and nodded toward the cemetery. “Which one is my mother’s?”

  “Over there,” Nico pointed. “Sure you don’t want company?”

  “Not for this, thanks. And Sam’s got an Uber account on his phone, so don’t worry about me getting back. I’ll see you at your place in an hour or so. You’ll be there?”

  “All day.” He turned the car back on. “Jena’s buried here too. She’s diagonally south of your mother twenty or so stones.”

  Josie stepped out, offering a wave of thanks. Jena was here. She hadn’t thought that her mom and Jena might be buried in the same place. As she walked from the parking lot onto the grass, it occurred to her she’d never been to a cemetery before. The few kids she’d known who’d died had all been cremated. Only a handful of people dotted the graveyard, and a few hundred feet away, an older man operating a backhoe was digging a fresh grave. Josie wondered what he thought of death. Had he lost his fear of it, working alongside it day by day?

  She spotted her mother’s nondescript stone while she was still two rows away. She was surprised to have expected more, but the bareness of the stone stood out in contrast to so many others. It was inscribed with only her name, Skye Pictures, and the years marking the beginning and end of her life. No vows of sorrow or devotion marked it, and no faded flowers or trinkets adorned it.

  Josie’s stomach pitched at the realization that the woman who’d brought her and her brother into this world—the woman who’d come to Hollywood to create a legend that would immortalize her forever—had vanished from its surface almost unnoticed.

  As Francie would say, such is life.

  Josie’s knees nearly buckled as she noticed the grave to the left of her mother’s. It was marked for Sam Pictures who’d supposedly left this world at nineteen. It was just as plainly inscribed but was adorned with a handful of faded, plastic flowers and a figurine of Jesus on the cross. Items left by Francie, no doubt.

  “You don’t get him yet,” Josie said to her mother’s stone, her voice lined with anger and sorrow. “Forever, if I can help it.”

  If Lady Justice were weighing the memories Skye had left her children, the sad, dark, and fearful would outweigh the shiny, happy ones. Josie had no doubt about it.

  Most certainly stirred up from this morning’s beach visit on the heels of Thanksgiving, she could remember, as clear as day, being eight or nine and sitting on the beach at sunset with Sam and her mom. Her fingers and mouth were greasy from their annual Thanksgiving Day picnic of McDonald’s double cheeseburgers and fries. She’d been thirsty, but their sodas were empty. The wind had been up, and she and Sam were chilled. After they’d finished eating, Skye draped the picnic blanket around them as they watched the sunset and called out things they were thankful for.

  Josie had watched the big orange disk slip below the ocean horizon, wishing that this mom—the one who’d not given up the search when their usual McDonald’s was closed and who told the best knock-knock jokes and who wasn’t even griping at Sam for his never-ceasing fidgetiness—would stick around forever.

  Where would we be now if she had? Would Sam still have spiraled like he did? Josie and Sam wouldn’t have needed Francie the way they had. Maybe she wouldn’t have grown to be inseparable with Nico all those years. And Sam would never have been shot.

  And maybe Zoe wouldn’t exist.

  The only thing she knew for sure was that her mother had run out of opportunities to realize there was more to life than chasing a dream that would never have filled the hole inside her.

  Digging through her purse, Josie fished out the ceramic fairy figurine she’d bought for Zoe in Vegas. There was always the trip back home to get another one.

  “You’d have loved her,” she said, remembering her mom’s affinity for people and things that were bright and bigger than life. “On those good days when you could appreciate things.” After unwrapping the figurine, she used the base to dig away at a bit of grass and wedged it in against the headstone. The bright colors stood out starkly against the trimmed grass and plain stone, making it seem even more barren than before.

  She stared at the fairy, whose hands were raised in front of her lips, blowing at a handful of petals that were morphing into butterflies as they blew into the air. Right now, this unintended gift was as close as she could come to forgiveness.

  “I’ll tell her about you someday,” she said, her voice just audible. “And I’ll try to remember more of the good things.”

  * * *

  It wasn’t until Josie had visited Jena’s grave and was headed back to the parking lot that she realized the battery on Sam’s phone was dead. Her internal clock was so messed up from lack of sleep, she could only guess at the time. Ten or ten-thirty possibly, and with the two-hour time difference between here and Galena, no wonder it seemed like the middle of the day.

  She sent up a silent prayer that everyone back home was calm. She’d not meant to go this long without calling. Her whole body ached to hear Zoe’s soft voice on the other end of the line, prattling on about one thing or another.

  Without Sam’s phone to order the Uber, her only way back to Nico’s was the bus. Talk about full circle. She’d not been on a bus since she’d left here with an eleven-month-old Zoe crying in her arms. There was a half-mile walk to the nearest stop, and then a ten-minute wait. And the whole time, she kept thinking about the run she’d made.

  She’d not recognized any of the people who’d been following her, and it was still hard to believe that local drug wars could escalate to the point that the life of an infant was intentionally in danger. Had Zoe’s life been a test by some power-hungry mongrel working his way to the top?

  How those two guys could’ve been so inhumane to pursue her when she’d been unarmed and had a baby in her hands, she’d never understand. But as Sam had said, there were things he’d said and done as a heroin addict that he’d never thought he would do.

  The bus stopped a block away from Nico’s center, and just hours after worrying that going there could turn into the worst decision she’d made, she headed toward it without fear.

  She was fifty feet away when the door opened, and a man stepped out. In a split-second glance, she noticed that he was fit and attractive—and familiar.

  She stopped midstep and stared. Impossibly familiar. Her stare transformed into a gawk. She blinked and waited for her head to clear, clouded with fatigue as it was.

  The last reserves of adrenaline dumped into her system. “Carter?”

  Her feet refused to move, so Carter had to walk to her. He looked tired and tense and relieved at the same time. He stopped a foot from her, his thumbs shoved into his jeans pockets. Josie looked from him to the building, but no one followed him out, and the glass was too reflective in the sunlight to see inside at this angle. It was crazy to worry about it after the forgiveness Nico had shown her, but some instinctual, untamed part of her was still terrified he wanted to hurt the people she loved, and she had to talk herself down from it.

  “How—how did you find me?”

  “Everything’s searchable nowadays.”

  “Nico?”

  “He’s inside.”

  “You met him?”

  He nodded but added nothing.

  Of course, he’s angry. You stole Myra’s car and drove across country without so much as telling him. The voice she’d gotten from her mother answered that he’d sort of done the same thing to her a little over a month ago.

  He was wearing a button-down shirt that was open at the collar, a checkered blue one that set off his eyes and exposed the fresh three-inch scar on his neck courtesy of Sam’s knife. Something about the sight of it, the way
it reminded her of the raw vulnerability of life, helped her unstick. She jumped forward, burying her face in his chest and locking her arms around his shoulders.

  “I’m sorry. I was afraid—I was afraid of everything, most especially that the people I love were going to end up hurt, and we wouldn’t even see it coming.”

  Carter’s arms locked around her and he pressed a kiss into her temple. “You’re okay. That’s all that matters.”

  Josie was about to reply when the door jangled open again. “If you ever do anything so stupid again, I’ll kick your ass, and I’m not even kidding.”

  “Sam?” Josie was just as dumbfounded to look around Carter’s shoulder and spy her brother headed their way.

  And Nico was right behind him, a ghost of a smile lighting his face.

  Practically shoving Carter out of the way, Sam clasped his hands on either side of her face, his voice kind but blaring. “I spent over five years looking for you. You can’t just vanish like that. Ever. You don’t know what it does to me.”

  Tears stung her eyes. “I’m sorry, Sam. I needed to know you were safe.”

  “You could’ve asked me. Like I told you before, if Nico wanted me dead, he’d have shown up in one of the cities I was working while I was looking for you.”

  “It’s been a long couple days for everyone.” Carter closed a hand over Sam’s shoulder; Josie was half surprised when the action calmed Sam down rather than bringing out his defensive side. Another sign he was growing up.

  “It really has,” she agreed. “Did you drive here?”

  “No, we flew.”

  When she looked over at Nico, who was joining them, a woman was at his side, eyeing her with undisclosed interest.

  “How ’bout we all agree that the only bullets flying today will be stray ones?” Nico looked at Sam. “After I introduce your sister to my girl and show her around, we can start that game you wanted to play. Though I don’t know how much of a challenge it’ll be playing your ass, skinny as it is.” Nico paused, then looked at Josie as he jutted his thumb toward his girlfriend. “Josie Waterhill, this is Cristina Torres.”

  Nico’s girlfriend was older than Josie might have guessed, mid-thirties maybe, with light-brown skin and long, curly brownish-black hair that was tied in a low ponytail, and she was fit enough to look like an athletic Barbie to Nico’s hulky Ken.

  Cristina offered a hand. “I refuse to fit in the jealous girlfriend category, but I’ve heard a bit about you this last year we’ve been together. Welcome home.”

  “It’s nice to meet you.” And it was nice. Josie still loved Nico; she always would. But it was a different love. It had morphed into the familial love she had for Myra and Sam. “Nico said you help him keep this place running smoothly.”

  “She does.” Nico winked at Cristina and waved them inside. “Come on; I’ll give you a tour, then we’ll play a game before we head over to Francie’s.”

  Josie’s heart constricted in anticipation of seeing Francie. Countless times, she’d wished she could’ve called and let Francie know she was okay. But knowing she couldn’t answer any questions Francie might ask, she’d never had the nerve.

  Her brother hooked his thumb toward Nico as they filed inside. “Guess it’s good he’s forgiven me, because he’s a frickin’ tank, isn’t he?”

  Josie made eye contact with Carter before answering. “I’m guessing he’s upped his protein intake a touch.”

  “It’s all spinach,” Nico said with a laugh.

  Seeing Nico and Carter just feet apart, the stark difference in the two lives she’d led struck Josie. She wondered if Nico and Carter would even really understand each other, coming from such different backgrounds. The friendliness in Nico’s tone as he showed them around his center gave her hope they might.

  Josie wasn’t sure what she’d have expected on a Saturday, but the building was full. There were more than twenty kids in the building, mostly boys but a few girls. They were all ages, sizes, body types, and races. And within a few minutes, it was clear that all of them were enamored with Nico.

  A smile spread across her face. Nico had found his passion and was making a difference in the lives of kids like the ones she’d grown up with.

  When the basketball game started, some of the older boys were asked to play, four on Nico’s team, and three on Sam and Carter’s. To keep it fair, Nico let Sam choose his team first. The three teens didn’t flinch at the opportunity to play against Nico, though they said the odds were in the favor of the opposing team even though it hadn’t been picked yet.

  After changing out of his button-down shirt into one of the extra gym T-shirts, Carter nodded his head toward Nico. “Think I could take him if I had to?”

  Josie bit her lip. “Uh, I just think it’s a good thing you don’t have to.”

  “I guess what matters is when it’s all said and done, you’re going home with me. At least, I hope you are.”

  Josie’s mouth fell open just a touch. “Of course, I am. I love you. But do you really think of it as home now? You aren’t just using Galena as a reference point since we’re sitting on the edge of one of the most dangerous neighborhoods in LA?”

  “You, Zoe, Myra—even Sam,” he said, closing an arm around her back. “You’re my home now. That’s what matters, isn’t it? Being with the people you love most.”

  Stepping in front of them, in a fit of bravado, Sam yanked off his sweatshirt. “Ready to beat some ass?”

  He was too thin still but already looked healthier than the boy who’d driven up from St. Louis. The scars from the bullet wounds on his chest and back drew more people’s attention than Josie’s. They would never tan and never fade, a forever reminder of the miracle her brother was.

  “You meant it when you included Sam?” Josie asked as her brother got in one of his teammates’ faces, double fiving him and promising that they were taking Nico down. “You aren’t just saying that? Because I don’t think he’s going anywhere for a long time.”

  Carter grinned. “It wouldn’t be the same without him.”

  “Trust me, it wasn’t. It really wasn’t.”

  Chapter 38

  After Francie spent most of the afternoon preparing it, Josie had no doubt dinner would be every bit as good as the special holiday meals she’d prepared when Josie was a kid. When Francie was finished cooking, the long dining table was hardly visible underneath fresh bread, a platter of antipasto, flank steak, pasta, minestrone, vegetables, and cannoli for dessert.

  In addition to Cristina, Francie’s granddaughter Sofia and her two children joined them as well, making their party total ten in all.

  From the moment Francie’s tableside prayer ended, there wasn’t a second of quiet. From the clanking of forks on plates and the playfulness of Sofia’s young kids to the conversation of the adults, it reminded Josie of the first big family meal she’d had at Francie’s. Back when she’d not known families could be big and loud and chaotic and still be loving and supportive the way Francie’s family was.

  Josie had a hard time keeping her attention off Enzo, Nico’s son and Zoe’s half-brother. The ten-year-old boy listened intently and seemed neither eager to add to the conversation nor too shy to do so when he had something to say. Like Nico, Enzo seemed quiet and introspective, the yin to Zoe’s yang, and Josie very much wanted to get to know him more.

  When she found out he’d yet to see snow, she said, “You should talk your family into visiting us this winter. Something tells me you’d love playing in snow.”

  Enzo smiled, revealing a single deep dimple that matched his father’s. “Can we, Dad?”

  “Yeah, maybe,” was Nico’s response.

  When Sofia’s kids got quiet enough that it was easier to speak over them, Francie told Carter of the first time she met Josie and Sam—how they helped her carry her groceries to the third floor when the elevator was broken—
and how she knew when she looked into their eyes that their lives were meant to run together. Carter was clearly moved when Francie talked about how Josie had helped her in just as many ways as she’d claimed to have been helped by Francie. From keeping both Sam and Nico on top of their homework to cleaning and helping with laundry, Josie had been a godsend to Francie.

  “Before I met Josie,” Francie said, “I was already a believer in the ways God works, but she was the flower I found growing up from the crack in the sidewalk.”

  “I’m guessing I was the weed?” Sam interjected.

  Francie shushed him with a wave of her hand. “When you bring your lover home to me, I’ll tell her as many beautiful things about you.”

  “Thank you for sharing all this,” Carter said in reply.

  Francie quietly appraised Josie. “Your new last name will take some getting used to, Josie…what is it again?”

  “Waterhill,” Nico answered.

  “What made you choose it?” Francie asked.

  “It’s complicated,” Josie said. “And honestly something I’ve never shared with anyone, not even Myra.”

  Suddenly all eyes were on her, and a wave of vulnerability washed over Josie at the prospect of saying it. Still, she knew there was no better place to start than in this room where her two lives blended together more easily than she’d have dreamed.

  She wiped her mouth and folded her napkin on her lap. “When Sam dropped Zoe into my arms and told me to run and not look back, that’s what I did. He didn’t mean forever, but I knew I needed to get away until things cooled down. And then—” An unexpected wave of loss washed over her at the memory of losing Sam. How much more was still buried inside? “When I found out I’d lost him, I assumed everyone else in this world was lost to me as well. So, I kept running. I’d been on the road with Zoe for six days, just wandering, sleeping in women’s shelters and bus stations and train stations and relying on the kindness of strangers for food and diapers for Zoe. I was exhausted and afraid, and I knew I couldn’t go on indefinitely with her.”