Nine
Neither Bailey nor my father had been home when I arrived. Dad left a note on the kitchen counter that said he was headed out for a while and would be home by seven, but he didn’t bother leaving any specifics.
It wasn’t until seven that Bailey had strolled through the door and slammed it shut behind her. I distinctly heard her throw her purse into her bedroom, and I could make out each of her steps as she walked to the end of the hallway to my open door.
“Hey, where’s Dad?” She leaned at the door frame, tapping her foot. “Hello?”
I looked at her once and then back down to the pamphlet. I didn’t want to talk to her. After the way she treated me at school that morning, I couldn’t imagine that Bailey and I had anything left to say to one another.
“Ah, come on, you’re not still mad at me, are you?”
I rested on my stomach, reading over the information packet I’d gotten from Lashell at the assembly last Friday. After the little back-and-forth joking I’d done with Gabe over the fact that I hadn’t yet read up on the program, I thought it was about time I took a few minutes to do just that. After all, it probably wouldn’t hurt to know a little background information for my article. And if I learned a little about Gabe in the process, then I guess that was okay, too. Again, I needed to know as much as possible for the article. Rule # 8: Always be prepared.
“Mandy, are you going to answer me or not?”
I kept my head low as I pretended to read the information just under ‘Volunteer Code of Conduct.’
“Mandy,” she whined, and then she stamped her foot. One slow and timid step at a time, she finally made her way to my bed and sat down. “Please look at me. Please?”
I did as she asked, but I quickly found myself wishing that I hadn’t. Bailey had twisted her face into the most pitiful expression, one that looked far too pathetic and forced. And although I knew she was only faking her puppy dog pout, I couldn’t stay angry. I looked at her pouted lip, and I couldn’t see anything but a reflection of myself. How could I be mad at my own sad face?
“Whatcha readin’?” she asked, settling in next to me. She took the booklet out from underneath me and flipped through a few pages. She studied the front matter, read a quick ‘welcome’ paragraph, and then she slid it back to me. “I thought this was just some lame attempt to win some money, but you’ve really gotten into this whole program thingy, huh?”
I twisted my lips and looked over at her, savoring that moment for as long as I could. For a brief second, I almost thought I’d gotten my sister back. She was quiet, intuitive. She was taking the time to ask me about something that mattered to me, and that was something she hadn’t done in a very long time. She was showing the side of herself I hadn’t seen in months, the side that I’d so long hoped to get back.
“Yeah,” I said, sitting up. I folded my feet beneath my legs and picked up the booklet once more. “I’m glad I decided to do it.”
Bailey remained quiet for a few seconds, and then she stared down at her hands and avoided my gaze.
“Listen, I’m really sorry about what happened at school this morning,” she said, and her voice cracked under pressure. It was the first apology I could recall hearing from her in years, and I knew even saying that much had been difficult for her. “Sometimes I get caught up in the heat of the moment and say things I don’t really mean.”
I nodded once, but didn’t say anything.
“I know I hurt you, and I just… I don’t want you to be mad at me,” she said. “I feel like you’re mad.”
“I’m not mad,” I said. “I’m just… I don’t know, Bailey; I’m hurt. Sometimes I don’t think you realize how deep your words can cut.”
“I’m sorry,” she said again, and I knew better than to press it any further. Two apologies from Bailey, no matter how small, carried a lot more weight than one grand apology from any normal person.
“It’s okay,” I said, and she breathed a sigh of relief. “Just try to be a little more sensitive from now on, okay? I’m not you. I can’t just let comments roll off my shoulders.”
Again, she nodded.
“So you’ve made some new friends through this RI thing?” she asked, trying as hard as she could to stay open to the idea.
“I guess,” I said, not entirely sure that I could call them ‘friends.’ “There’s Carla and Fletcher, Lashell… Gabe.”
“The Gabe?” she asked, crinkling her nose. “Loser-Gabe?”
“See that’s the kind of stuff you can’t say,” I said, pointing a finger at her. She laughed. “You’re being insensitive again.”
“I’m only teasing.”
“Right.” I guessed I would just have to accept that, no matter how much she tried, Bailey would still take a jab wherever she could get one in.
“So, any idea when Dad plans to come home?” she asked, looking over her shoulder. “He hasn’t been around much lately.”
“He should’ve been here by now, at least according to the note he left on the counter. I wouldn’t worry too much, though. He’s got a lot coming up; you know how he gets when there’s a lot of pressure mounting. He’ll come around.”
“Yeah,” she said, but she didn’t seem to be listening to a single word I said. “But did he say where he was?”
“No. He left a note, only said that he’d be back by seven.”
“Right,” she said, and then she clicked her tongue a few times. “Can I tell you something?”
“Sure.” She leaned close, and her voice dropped into a low whisper. “I think he’s only staying away because he’s avoiding us.”
“Meaning?”
“I think he’s going to quit.”
“What? What do you mean you think he’s going to quit? He spends every waking moment at the office!”
“Or does he?” she asked. “When has he ever specifically said he’s at the office? He always says he’s working—”
“On his projects—”
“Think about it, Mandy,” she said. “When’s the last time he’s ever mentioned anything specifically?”
I tried to remember, but she was right. There hadn’t been a single mention of his work, the office, or his mayoral responsibilities in a long, long time. I couldn’t remember the last time he’d ever given us any kind of specifics; he’d started giving us some pretty lame excuses, but I hadn’t really taken the time to notice.
Was he crumbling under pressure? Had something happened? It didn’t seem out of character for Dad to give up when things got hard, but he wouldn’t break a promise to Sugar Creek the way he’d broken his promises to us. Would he?
“You’re right,” I said, shaking my head. Bailey nodded as if she hadn’t doubted that fact for a second. “He’s been very vague. I can’t believe I didn’t notice.”
“Mmm-hmm,” she said, pursing her lips. “I think I know exactly what’s going on.”
“And?”
“I overheard him on the phone last week talking with Ripken.”
“Okay?”
“Think about it, Mandy,” she said, taking a serious tone. “Ripken. When is the only time you’ve ever heard him use that name?”
“Oh no,” I said, cupping my hands over my mouth when the realization hit me square in the face. Harrison Ripken was my father’s agent back in the day, back when he was hot stuff out in LA. “You don’t think he’s—”
“I do,” she said. “I heard him tell Ripken that it’s a ‘flattering offer,’ but he needs to take some time to figure out whether or not it’s the most viable situation for our family right now.”
“He’s thinking of leaving?”
“I’d almost bet my life he is.”
“No,” I said, feeling my heavy heart sink further into my chest. “He’ll do it, won’t he? He’ll take the job and move us back to California.”
“Not if I have anything to do with it,” she said, sitting straighter. “Sure, I want to end up in LA eventually, but this girl has plans. Everyt
hing has to happen according to those plans. First, Homecoming queen. Then prom queen, graduation, and summer. Then California. He’s not messing this up for me.”
I barely heard a word she said after that. She just kept talking, kept going on and on about all of the things she’d be missing if Dad accepted a role in LA, but I couldn’t make sense of anything; between her jabbering and the chaos swirling through my brain, nothing made sense.
And the most confusing part of all was that the moment the thought of leaving struck me, I didn’t think of my responsibilities at school, my perfectly mapped-out future at Desden University, or what it would be like to start over again at eighteen. It wasn’t even that I thought about Gabe or the Raddick Initiative.
Sure, those thoughts occurred to me eventually. But not right off the bat.
She came to mind. She was California to me, and I hated California.
You want to give me an ultimatum, Jim? Great.
I closed my eyes when Mom’s voice cut through me, an eerie reminder of what we left behind. There hadn’t been a single day in four years that I hadn’t heard her voice. Her words, her screaming, her pleas for freedom, they were etched in my brain since the moment I walked in on their fight.
I choose the show. I made that show what it is, and I won’t walk away from it now.
I shuddered, hating how fresh the wounds were even after all the time and distance.
Go ahead! Leave. But you’re out of your damn mind if you think you’re going without those girls. I never wanted this life. You knew that when we met. I wasn’t cut out to be someone’s wife, and I sure as hell wasn’t meant to be someone’s Mom.
I swallowed hard.
I had no doubt that our mother would want to see us about as much as we’d want to see her.
There was no mystery why I didn’t want to leave. Sugar Creek had become my escape from that life, and I couldn’t go back. Not now. I was finally starting to like things just the way they were—with Gabe, Bailey, the Raddick Initiative, and without Mom.
Moving to LA meant leaving a lot behind, but it also meant facing a part of my past I never wanted to face again.
I needed to move forward because backward wasn’t an option. It just wasn’t.
Bailey paced by the door, and she waited on our father to make his grand return home. When he didn’t show up (or even call) by eight, she gave up the pacing and went back to her own room to stew a little longer.
I wondered just how long Bailey had already been stewing on her own; if she overheard Dad’s conversation with Ripken sometime last week, that meant she’d been holding on to her anger, her fears, and her worries all by herself. She might’ve confided in Jones somewhere along the line, so she wasn’t entirely alone, but I knew she wouldn’t say anything to her friends. That would be the one secret they wouldn’t keep. If the Queen Bee was about to take flight, the whole school would know. It would’ve gotten back to me in a matter of minutes.
I just wished she would’ve said something sooner.
Why had she waited to drop that bomb today of all days? Why had she let me sit there and talk about how much I liked the way things were going, only to turn around and rip it away from me in one fell swoop?
Bailey popped her head into my room and declared that she couldn’t stand the silence any longer and she just had to get out of the house. Of course, I knew what that meant. She was headed out to see Jones. She never waited for my response before leaving, and that was probably for the best. I hadn’t been able to muster enough strength to pull my head up and look at her, let alone try to find the right words.
Bailey had only been gone for thirty minutes when the front door clicked open again. I knew it was too early for her to have already come home. That only left one other option: it was Dad returning home from wherever in the world he’d been. While I’d been anxious for answers only an hour earlier, I’d emotionally exhausted myself since. The last thing I wanted to do in that moment was face him. I knew I wouldn’t be able to look him in the eye and listen as he lied to me about where he’d been and what he’d been doing.
“Girls?”
His baritone voice echoed through the hallways, and I pinched my eyes shut, pretending to be fast asleep. I heard him stop off at Bailey’s room and let go of a low groan, one that could’ve only meant one thing: he was mad that she’d gone out so late on a school night. A few steps down the hall and two light taps on my door, he finally made his way into my room.
I squeezed my eyes tighter.
The edge of my mattress sank down, and Dad’s strong hand caressed the top of my head, his fingers slowly raking through my dark hair.
“Mandy?” he said quietly, trying to wake me from a slumber. He might’ve been a great actor himself, but it was clear that he didn’t recognize another great actor when he saw one; I’d fooled him. I wished he would just leave it at that, but he kept pressing. “Hey…” He gave me a little shake, and my eyes finally snapped open.
“You fell asleep on top of your blankets,” he said, giving me that goofy grin of his. “And you’re still wearing your shoes.”
“Go away,” I said, turning into my pillow to hide my face.
“Mandy, come on, sit up,” he said, trying to turn me over.
“Oh my God, Dad, leave—me—alone,” I said, sitting up. I shoved by him and slid off the other side of my bed.
“I was trying to help,” he said. “You fell asleep in your—”
“I wasn’t asleep, okay? Now go,” I said, opening my door wider.
“What’s going on here?” he asked, slowly rising to his feet. “Did I miss something?”
“Yeah, apparently so.” I turned back to the door. I felt I’d done just about everything short of picking him up and tossing him out. Couldn’t he take the hint? I did not want to have this conversation.
“Mandy, what’s the problem here?” he asked, and for the briefest moment, I thought I saw a pained look cross his face.
“I don’t want to talk to you,” I said, raising my voice yet again. “I was really hoping to avoid looking at you tonight, but you just had to keep pressing!”
“Hold up!” He took a step closer to me, lowered his gaze, and looked hard at my face. He studied my eyes, then the wrinkles inset in my angry expression. He squinted a little harder. “Okay, what I do know is that you’re Amanda,” he said confidently. “What I don’t know is why you’re acting like Bailey. What did I miss? What’s your problem?”
“Nothing.”
“Mandy, talk to me.”
“I don’t want to talk.”
“Come on, now. What’s gotten into you?”
“I know what you’re up to,” I said through clenched teeth. I managed to keep my voice calm for a second, but the longer I thought about returning to California, the harder it became to stay calm. “I know what you’re doing. I know about Ripken—”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa, wait a second.” His mouth hung open and he stared at me, completely dumbfounded. “How did you—?”
“So you’re not even going to deny it?” I asked, feeling a fresh set of tears surface as I blinked my eyes. Do—not—cry, Mandy! “You’re really negotiating for a role back in LA?”
He ran his fingers through his thick hair, and each of the brown locks bounced right back across his forehead.
“It’s complicated.”
“It’s really not,” I said. “We can’t move.”
“Mandy—”
“No. You promised we were here to stay.”
“Things change.”
“So that was just another lie, then? It was just another, broken promise? You were biding your time, waiting around for the perfect moment to break?”
“It’s not like that—”
“It’s exactly like that, Dad,” I said, and then it suddenly became less about one broken promise and a lot about another—the broken promise.
I don’t know why I was even surprised. This is what he d
id. He was a world class promise-breaker. Back in LA, he knew that Mom was stressed with everything she had to juggle. Between work, family, and her social life, he knew that she had taken on too much, and her stress became an unbearable problem for all of us. She started shutting everyone out, rarely giving us a minute of her time. And when she did give us a minute, she was usually only yelling at us for no apparent reason. She couldn’t handle the stress, and we became her verbal punching bags.
Dad promised he’d try to help her, get her back to her normal self and fix our family. He promised Bailey and me that he’d never give up. And even though we all knew it was falling apart, he promised he’d do everything he could to save our family. But then he gave up, and he asked her to choose. The only reason she made that decision was because he made her.
“Mandy,” he said, crestfallen, “I know what you’re thinking, and this isn’t about your mother.”
“You’re right. It’s not about Mom. It’s about you proving once and for all that your word means nothing. You said you were done chasing that dream. You swore this was it for us, Dad.”
“They’re writing Deacon back into the show, Mandy,” he said as if that was somehow supposed to make me feel better. “I’m Deacon Fell. Who else is going to play that role?”
“They killed him off. They can’t bring him back!”
Or at least I didn’t think they could. I’d listened to Dad’s stories for years, and year after year he told us all about his once in a lifetime role as a soap opera heartthrob, the mysterious and brooding Dr. Deacon Fell. His character had been killed off in a skydiving accident sometime around mine and Bailey’s sixth birthday. I didn’t remember anything about his departure from the show, but I did know one thing for sure: the dead couldn’t magically come back to life.
“What do you want me to say, Mandy?” He gripped his fingers until they turned white. “I know it’s going to upset the balance of things for a while, but you enjoyed life in California.”
“But I love my life here.”
“Since when?”
“Since now!”
“Well, I’m sorry, but sometimes you have to make sacrifices for your family.”
“Really?” I asked. “You think I don’t know about sacrifice? That’s all I do. It’s all Bailey and I have ever done. Mom hurt you, and I understand that. She hurt us all. But you couldn’t just walk away and start over on the other side of town. You had a point to make, and you weren’t going to stop until you made it. You had to rip us away from everything we’d ever known just to prove that you could make it without her. We were so young, Dad. Too young. You should’ve known better than to put that on us. We were kids! So you can’t stand there and act like I don’t know what it means to make sacrifices for my family. I gave up my entire life.”
Dad stood firmly in place, stunned that I had lashed out at him. It was the first time I ever stood up to my father, so I would’ve been a little surprised if he hadn’t been shocked. But it was unfair. He had no right to expect us to pack up and leave again. No right. Not after he’d dragged us away, ripping us out of school and away from our friends, forcing us to say goodbye to everyone we’d ever known. He broke his promise and made her choose. She made her decision. So why in the world did I have to keep paying for their mistakes?
I wouldn’t do it again. Once was enough, and I never thought he’d have the nerve to ask us to leave after all of this time. Apparently he did, though, and I wasn’t going to let him have his way. I finally felt like I was in a place in my life where I had something worth fighting for, so I planned to keep fighting until there was nothing left for me to do.
Dad’s lip quivered, and I felt he was on the verge of working up some kind of argument. But at that very moment, the doorbell rang. He let out a sigh and looked down to the floor. If there was ever a more ill-fated saved by the bell moment than that, I would never believe it.
Without another word, he ducked out of my room and left me standing all alone, left with nothing but my anger and resentment.
“Amanda,” he called from the living room, “visitor.”
I closed my eyes, and a tear finally broke loose. I didn’t know who it could possibly be or what they could possibly want. I’d never had a visitor, so why all of a sudden, especially at that moment, had someone found the urge to swing by? I wiped my tear away with the backside of my hand, took a deep breath, and headed for the door.
“Amanda Caroline Parker!”
“I’m coming,” I said, turning out of my room. I only made it halfway down the hallway before I saw my visitor standing in the living room with Dad. I stopped dead in my tracks to catch another breath.
What was he doing here?
“Hey,” Gabe said, leaning over a little to catch my gaze before it fell to the floor.
I took another step into the living room, and Dad left, whispering “five minutes” before disappearing into his bedroom down the hall. If there was ever any question whether or not my father was angry with me, there wasn’t any more. He hadn’t even taken the time to gush over the famous Gabriel Raddick standing right inside his door.
I looked back over my shoulder before meeting Gabe’s stare. He leaned down to steal a look at my bloodshot eyes, and then I noticed his gaze fall to my chest as it fell heavily with every painful exhalation.
“Mandy, are you okay?” he asked, taking a step closer. “You’re shaking.”
“I’m fine,” I said, swallowing hard. I closed my eyes and shook my arms, giving myself just enough time to shake it off and compose myself. Bringing my arms up to my chest, I crossed them and held them firmly in place. “What’s up?”
He opened his mouth to say something, but it just hung open for a few long seconds.
“Did you need something?” I asked, shrugging my shoulders. Still, he only stared. I looked back to him and shook my head, waiting on an answer, but he seemed confused and seriously lost for words. I had no patience to stand there waiting. What in the world could he possibly want? What was so important that he had to interrupt my conversation with Dad? “Gabe, do you need something or not?”
“Do you want to step outside for a second?” he asked quietly. “Get some fresh air, go for a walk?”
“You came all the way back here to ask me to go for a walk?”
“No,” he said, raising his hand a little higher. He clutched my red, vintage purse in his fingers and managed a half-smile. “You left this in the car.”
“Oh,” I said, reaching forward to take it. When my hand landed on the purse, Gabe grabbed my fingers and squeezed them, as though he had no intention of ever letting go. I looked from my hand to his, and then my gaze lifted and locked on his eyes. I suddenly realized just how close we were standing. I swallowed hard, trying to steady my nerves as they fizzed a little more out of control.
“Let’s take that walk, Mandy.”
“I can’t,” I said, still unable to tear my eyes away from his. “My Dad won’t—”
“I’m sure we can work something out.”
“Now’s not the best time, Gabe,” I said, finally pulling my hand away from his. I took my purse when I stepped away.
I hated that I had to break the contact, but letting myself fall for Gabe would only complicate things even more. I didn’t need his gentle touch, his soft tone, or his sincere stare lingering in my direction. I didn’t need him in my house, holding my hands, looking deeply into my eyes.
That only confused me more.
What I needed was a little bit of time and space away from everyone. That’s all I’d ever wanted. I’d never asked for anything more.
“I would’ve brought it by earlier,” he explained, trying not to look too jilted by the way I’d pulled away from him. Though he tried to disguise it, I could see right through him. As it turned out, Gabe wasn’t nearly as good an actor as us Parkers. I’d hurt his feelings. “I got all the way to Desden before I saw it on the floorboard.”
“Well, thanks, I guess.”
>
“Mandy,” he said, stepping forward and nearly closing the gap between us. Once again, I found that we were standing far too close. “Have I offended you by coming back here tonight?”
“Of course not,” I said, trying to divert my stare, but my eyes kept coming back to him. “Why would you think that?”
“You’re on edge,” he said, taking one tiny step closer. At that point, we were touching.
I thought to agree with him. I thought to mention that my edginess probably had more to do with the fact that he kept dipping into my personal space than anything else. But I didn’t say a word, fearing that if I did, he would respect my boundaries and back away. That was just the kind of guy Gabe was. And as uncomfortable as it made me to have him standing so close, I preferred the discomfort to the alternative. I didn’t want him to leave.
“I’m sorry,” I said, starting to look down to the floor again, but Gabe caught my chin with his thumb. He tilted my face upward, and then he shook his head.
“Can I help you?” he asked, and his blue eyes softened with each blink. “Talk to me, Mandy. What’s going on?”
His finger still held my chin as he watched me and waited for an answer, but I couldn’t find the right words. There wasn’t enough time in the world to even try to explain. Unable to muster even the simplest explanation, I looked away, and that’s all it took for him to drop his hand. He backed away, took the purse from my hands, and set it aside on the floor. Then he pulled me into a hug. My head rested against his chest as he wrapped one hand around my back, and the other held my head closer to him. He rested his head on top of mine, and his thumb caressed my hair, each gentle stroke lulling me into a haze of mixed emotions. Just being close to him, being inside his embrace, I felt my entire body go limp. I knew the only reason I hadn’t collapsed was because Gabe’s strong arms were wrapped around me, keeping me from crashing to the floor.
I knew better than to shed a tear, but it didn’t matter how hard I tried to keep the flood gates from opening. Wrapped up with Gabe, restraining tears wasn’t any kind of option. I cried hard against his shoulder, feeling my heartache weigh a little heavier in my chest with each passing minute, but Gabe never loosened his grip.
“Five minutes are up, Mandy,” Dad’s voice called from the hallway, and I felt Gabe’s head jerk up to look at my father. He stroked the back of my hair once more, and I finally peeled myself away from his tear-soaked shirt. Gabe looked down at me again, and he raised his hand to wipe my tears away.
“Mandy?” he asked quietly.
“It’s fine,” I whispered, matching his tone. “But you should go before—”
“I don’t want to leave if you need—”
“I’m okay,” I promised, and I kept my voice low. “I’ll …” I wiped a fresh tear with the back of my hand and stood taller. “I’ll just see you Thursday, okay?”
“Maybe I can see you before then?”
“I don’t have the time.”
“I’ll come to you. I’ll come here to Sugar Creek,” he said. “You won’t have to go out of your way at all.”
“It’s not a matter of going out of my way,” I said. “I have school and work, and I just don’t have the time, okay?”
“You can’t spare one hour?”
“No. I can’t.”
The thing was I could make time for him. I could spare more than just an hour between now and then, but for what? It would only give me one more chance, one more opportunity to see how perfect Gabe was; it would just give me one more chance to fall for him. And I had to be careful letting myself fall, especially when my parents had made it their life purpose to tear me away from everything I let myself get close to.
“You need to go, Gabe,” I said, swallowing hard. “You have to leave.”
Breaking Rules Page 11
