Dad eases into a chair and wraps his hands around a can of Coke. “She started having trouble about two years ago. Things got . . . weird.”
“You think everything’s weird.” How he ever ended up with someone like my mom is beyond me. They were night and day. Classic rock and elevator music.
His mouth thins. “Okay, things got crazy. Literally.”
I walk to a nearby counter and lean my hip against it. “Like her senior year of high school?” Allison tried to kill herself just three months shy of graduation. Dad got her some help and some meds, but she never returned to school. Never got that diploma or even her GED.
“Similar . . . but different,” he says, taking a deep pull from the can. “She’s relapsed again. I don’t know if she’s on her medication, but if I had to guess, I’d say she is not.”
I know enough of Allison’s history to fill in the rest. “But you think she’s on something.”
He silently nods.
“And what do you want me to do about it? I can call some treatment facilities in Chicago, but they won’t take her against her will.”
“Allison’s gone.”
I set my tea glass down on the counter with a thunk. “Dad, if she’s run off, then there’s nothing you can do. She’ll have to hit bottom and realize she needs help all by herself.”
He lifts tired eyes to mine. “I know that.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
The front door slams, and Dad checks his watch. “Right on time.”
Feet stomp through the living room and head straight for us. “I’m never going back there again!” A little girl bursts into the room, her red hair spiraling all over her head like a natural disaster. “Who are you?”
I close my eyes as the pieces click into place. “I’m Maggie.”
She crosses her freckled arms and snarls. “Maggie who?”
I take in the bedraggled kid and long for the SweeTarts in the car. “Maggie—your aunt.”
Chapter Four
So you couldn’t have told me Allison dumped Riley on you?” I pace the small kitchen as my niece sits upstairs watching TV. “Would it have really been that hard to give me a few more details? Cliff-hangers are only cool on television, Dad.”
“I was afraid you wouldn’t come.” He pops the top off his Coke can. “You haven’t seen Riley since she was three, so I didn’t figure she would be much incentive to come back.”
If guilt was a beer in my dad’s fridge, I’d be drunk on it. “I haven’t been a good sister or aunt, but I don’t really think I have to explain myself to you.” My sister got pregnant in high school, and I wasn’t around for that either.
“Nobody asked you to,” Dad snaps. “I need help, Maggie.” He winces at his own words, and I know he’d rather snort nails than ask for anything from me. “I’ve had Riley for a month. In that time she’s run off five different babysitters. Mrs. Bittle from across the street will help out in an emergency, but I’ve used up about all of her generosity.”
“What’s wrong with Riley?” I swallow back dread. “Is she like Allison?” My sister has a host of mental problems. And she’s just mean.
“No, nothing wrong with that kid’s head. She’s smart as a whip, but she’s been allowed to run wild.” He steeples his calloused fingers. “I’m just going to lay it out for you. Allison hasn’t been any sort of mother, always on the move, and Riley’s been in and out of school.”
We Montgomery girls are nomads. It’s in the blood. That’s the one thing my sister and I have in common. I travel with work, and Allison travels with whatever spirit moves her. I can’t count the number of cities she’s been in, but it’s almost as impressive as my own list. “Dad, you got me for three days. If you think I’m going to be able to work any miracles in that time, you’re sadly mistaken. This is Allison’s problem. Can’t you find her?”
“I’ve been looking. Don’t you think I’ve been looking for my own daughter?”
Our gazes clash, and I know he can read my mind like a script. No, I don’t think you’ve looked. But Allison was the baby, his favorite, so I guess it’s possible.
“I’ve called everyone I know. I’ve got Arlo down at the Ivy police department making quiet inquiries.”
“Why quiet? Don’t you want to find her? Riley needs her mom.”
Dad studies his hands. “Because the state’s stopped by a few times—social services. Your sister already has a ten-foot-tall file with them. And now that Riley’s with me, they’re checking up on her. They stopped by last week and she was throwing cookie batter in the ceiling fan while the babysitter sat in the La-Z-Boy and cried.”
I can’t help but laugh, though it’s not funny . . . but it kinda is. My stoic father in charge of a ten-year-old demon.
“And a week and a half ago, she ran away from school.”
“A lot of kids do that.”
“It was the tenth time in four weeks.”
“Oh.”
“I have to work, Maggie. I just need some time. If you could watch her, I could do my job at the plant and find Allison.”
Bitterness seeps through my blood like poison. “So you called me here to help you out. And that’s why you didn’t tell me the complete truth.” Because I don’t owe you anything. “I’m not sticking around. I’ll do what I can in these next few days, but come Friday morning, I’m hopping on that plane.”
Dad slowly stands and pushes in his chair. “I realize I haven’t been any kind of father to you, and I’m asking for the moon here. But are you so cut off from us that you could let that child go into foster care? Do you want to see your niece bounced from home to home every time your sister screws up? I’m nobody to be asking you favors, but I thought maybe, just maybe, you might have it in your Christian heart to have mercy on a child.”
The refrigerator’s hum fills my ears. Upstairs, a TV blares.
Dad shakes his head and steps toward the back door. “Never mind. Forget I asked.” Reaching for his cap hanging on a peg, he stuffs it on his head. “I’ve got to check in at work for a few hours. Do you think you can manage being her aunt for that long?”
“Yes.” My tone makes me feel sixteen again. “I think I can manage it.”
He jangles the keys in his pocket and opens the door. “Don’t lose her.”
I roll my eyes. “I’ve scaled the jagged mountains of Patagonia. I think I can handle a ten-year-old.”
I’ve lost her.
Forty-five minutes into this babysitting gig, and I’ve misplaced the child. The little actress came down the stairs with her sweet words and cherubic face and asked me to play hide-and-seek. Of course I said yes. I didn’t know she would go AWOL on me by the time I got to the count of forty-seven. But the pink bike that was slanted against the big oak is gone. And so is Riley.
This is why I have a pet rock.
I walk down the neighborhood street and call her name. After ten minutes and no sign of her, I hop in the car and cruise through town. An hour later, I’m still childless and feeling more than a little panicked. What if she hitched a ride with a stranger? What if someone kidnapped her? What if my dad thinks I’m the biggest loser ever?
I return to the house and rip through the front door, yelling her name. “Riley! Riley!”
No response from the quiet house. I run upstairs, a prayer on my lips.
When the phone in the kitchen rings, I fly down the steps like a woman after the last Coach bag on clearance at Macy’s. “Hello?”
“Maggie?”
“Yes?” I rest my hand on my heaving chest.
“It’s Beth.”
“Oh, hey, Beth. Uh, now is not really a good time to catch up.” I’ve lost a kid, and the woman is probably calling to see if we can do pedicures and pull out the yearbook.
“No, I’m sure it’s not. Do you know where your niece is?”
Oh no. “You know Riley?”
“Girl, the whole town knows Riley. And right now she’s standing in the middle of Ivy Square,
pouring dish soap in the founding fathers’ fountain.”
“Fabulous.”
“You want to get her before the mayor sees it. No need to leave any evidence—like a bubble-covered child.”
“I’ll be right there.”
I pull out of Dad’s subdivision like I’m in the Daytona 500. This is not how I intended to spend my evening.
Driving down Central Avenue, I zoom past Martin’s Drugstore, Bailey’s Hardware, and the Ivy League Diner—places that haven’t changed since I was shaking my pom-poms for the fighting Lions.
Finding a shady Bradford pear tree, I pull my car into an open spot on the square. I look toward the fountain of Buford Chapel and Delroy Jackson, the two men who supposedly won a considerable amount of property in a poker game with some wealthy cattle farmers. They played for the best two out of three, and Buford and Delroy, two wandering trappers with questionable card decks, walked away with what would later become Ivy. The two men couldn’t decide what to call their township, so they named it after a saloon girl they both fancied.
And now my niece is kicking up water in the memorial fountain, dancing like a sprite, with water shooting out of Buford and Delroy’s concrete muzzle loaders.
“Riley!” I shout. “Get out of there now!”
She ignores me and continues to wade in the shoulder-deep water, bubbles spilling over the sides like the fountain is vomiting froth.
I finally reach the child and make a grab for her arm. Slippery little thing. “Get out.”
Oh my gosh. Bubbles. Everywhere. They’re mutating. They’re multiplying. One day when she’s a little less amateur, she’ll know to bring food coloring too.
“Go away.” The minx has the nerve to flip over and do the backstroke, lazy as she pleases.
I run around the side and try to latch on to her leg. “It’s not quite spring yet, Riley. I know that water has to be freezing.”
“I don’t care.” And to prove it she dives under.
“Hey. Where are you?” My heartbeat kicks it up a notch. “Riley? This isn’t funny.” I can’t see her. Too many bubbles. I can’t see her! “Help me!” Where’s a nosy townsperson when you need one? “Riley, can you hear me?”
I hear the thud of running feet behind me, but I can’t take my eyes off the water.
“Maggie? What in the world is wrong?”
Walking round and round the fountain, I fish my hand in the water and come away with nothing. No child.
“Maggie?” Beth grabs my shoulders.
I point toward the rising mound of bubbles. “Buford and Delroy have my niece.”
“Just step in there and get her. And hurry up. The mayor can’t stand for anyone to mess with his fountain.”
I wave my arms around in there again. “I can’t find her. Please, Beth. Please help me.” I can just see dinnertime tonight. Dad, Riley drowned in a sea of bubbles . . .
A small giggle reaches my ears, and I begin to breathe again. “I hear you, Riley. Get out.”
“Come and get me.”
I bite back a blistering response.
Beth turns and stares me square in the face. “Maggie, you’re not still afraid of water, are you?”
My chin inches up a notch. “Of course not. I just don’t like it. And that is distinctly different than being afraid of it. Plus, who wants to get all sudsy?”
Her bemused expression grates on me as much as Riley’s dramatic doggy paddle. “It’s a fountain.”
“Look how deep that is. She’s swimming in it. I need help with a kid here, okay?”
“What you need is to get her out of my fountain.”
Beth and I both spin around.
“Hello, Mayor Karstetter.” Beth smiles at the town leader, her body shielding my niece’s kicking legs.
“Do you know how much it costs to get soap out of that thing? Do you have any idea how strapped the city budget is? I had to lay off Maudine Richardson just yesterday and—”
“I’ll take care of it, James.”
I turn and find the man from the cemetery standing behind me, hands on hips.
“You,” I hiss.
Connor Blake angles his head. “We meet again.” His blue eyes light on Riley. “And this time you brought the unruly beast.”
“I’ll have her out in a minute.” As soon as I dig out a twenty from my wallet to flash in front of her freckled face.
“It’s going to be expensive to clean that up . . .”
I try to smile at the mayor. “Send me a bill.”
Beside me Connor laughs. “It’s just that simple, is it? Tell me, has everything always been that easy for you to brush off?”
I look to Beth for help, but she’s by the fountain dangling a piece of gum. “What is it exactly that I’ve done that’s ticked you off so much?” I move a step closer, forcing myself to look him in the eye. “Why don’t you just tell me who you are, so I can add you to the long list of people I need to apologize to for my wild and reckless past.”
“Hey, Connor,” Beth calls. “You could lend a hand instead of staring down my friend.”
He crosses his arms against a chest a pro athlete would be proud of. “I’m the guy who’s going to have to fix this mess. Again.” He points toward Riley, who’s now singing a song from The Little Mermaid. “This is the third time in three weeks.”
“She’s going through a rough patch right now.”
“Then maybe her aunt should take care of her.”
My mouth opens in a gasp. Who does he think he is? “Look, Connor, I’m sorry you’ve had to fix the fountain. I’ll pay for any damages.”
“You just handle getting the kid out.”
I turn back to the frothy fountain. “Um, yeah. About that . . .”
Connor stares at me like I’m totally boring him. “You have thirty seconds to hop in that fountain and procure your niece before the mayor scares her with the handcuff talk again.”
I steal a look over my shoulder. “Well . . .”
His nostrils flare. “Does everyone indulge you this much?”
And before I can hurl a one-liner, he’s stepping into the water, the bubbles rushing to cover his khakis. Riley squeals as he makes his way to her. Connor scoops her up in his arms, the soap sluicing off his biceps. As quickly as he got in, he climbs back out.
“Get your hands off me! I’m calling the cops!”
Connor thrusts the sopping child into my arms, instantly soaking me. “This time she’s going to work it off.”
“Okay.” Good luck getting her to cooperate. I have a feeling it will be like trying to negotiate with the business end of a rattlesnake.
Connor turns to the fuming mayor. “I’ll have it cleaned out this evening.” He shoots me a withering glare. “Again.”
“Thank you.” The mayor crosses his arms over his chest. “I’m glad some people still have some pride in their town.” He storms off, stopping only to pick up some trash on the sidewalk.
“Have her at my clinic after school tomorrow,” Connor says, swiping at his shirt. “She can clean some kennel cages to work off her three offenses.”
“One,” Riley snaps. “You can’t pin the other two on me. You got witnesses? You got proof? I watch Judge Judy.”
Connor Blake turns his steely eyes back to me. “Bring her to Ivy Lake Animal Clinic. If she’s not there by three forty-five, I call your father and let him know how successful your outing with your niece was.” He walks away, dripping in bubbles.
“Wha—who . . . how?”
Beth stands beside me. “Connor knows everything. Everyone. Pretty typical when you’re the town vet.” She sweeps her hand across my forehead. “You had a big bubble on your face the entire time you were talking to him.”
Great.
“You remember him, don’t you?”
Unable to hold Riley any longer, I drop her to the ground and manacle her arm with my two hands. “Don’t even think about running. No, Beth, I have no idea who he is. I’m sure if I went to school with s
omeone who looks like that I would’ve remembered.” Or acts like that.
Beth smiles. “You know—Connor Blake. He looked a lot different back then. President of the math club, science club, and robotics. I think he also held some sort of office in the Future Farmers of America.”
“Not ringing any bells. Not that we hung out with the math, science, and techno-geek crowd.” I strengthen my grip on a wiggling Riley and laser her with a death stare. “Don’t even think about moving.”
“He went away to college. And when he came back, he and your sister struck up a friendship. I guess anything he knows about you came from her.”
“And you smell,” Riley says.
I glance down at her. “And you have suds coming out your nose.” She rolls her eyes and looks away.
“We weren’t exactly nice to the nerds back in the day.” Beth digs in her purse for her car keys.
“He’s obviously forgiven you.”
Beth shrugs. “I asked him to.”
Chapter Five
I asked you to keep an eye on her for two hours.” Dad plunks down three dinner plates on the small kitchen table. “You said you had it under control.”
“Yeah, well, I didn’t know I was babysitting a little terrorist. Beth and a few other townspeople filled me in on some of Riley’s most current escapades.” Letting Mr. Miller’s donkey out, reorganizing the shelves at the public library, and licking the pastries at the downtown bakery. Ridiculous! Okay, actually the pastry licking I can kind of understand.
Dad focuses on the table as he sets down a platter of grilled burgers. “Do you see why I need help?”
“What you need is the National Guard.”
“This is your sister’s only child.” Dad grabs on to the back of a worn brown chair and eyes me. “Can yyou have the biggest, dreamiestou really just stand there and tell me you’re going to walk away from this? Because, Maggie, if you do, she’s going to a state home.”
“Why do you care?” The words fly off my tongue, and I suck in my lips as if to bring them back.
He stalks to the fridge. “Never mind.”
Just Between You and Me Page 3
