Just Between You and Me

by Jenny B. Jones

  “Dad?”

  His head bobs like it’s about ready to blast off his neck, and his fists clench at his sides. “What”—he rasps—“did you say to your sister last night that set her off?”

  I blanch at his raw anger and take a step back. “I . . . we . . . we just talked. She got upset, got irrational.” Got crazy.

  “What did you say?”

  “She—” Blamed me for Mom’s death, her life, the state of the economy. Every problem in the universe. “She started saying stupid stuff about how Riley was fine and not really a concern. I could only listen to so much of that.” She told me I watched my mother drown.

  My dad’s face pinches in anger. His neck is flushed scarlet. The dad I grew up with and learned to fear stands before me. “I asked you—I specifically asked you—not to upset her. And you couldn’t do that one little thing? Is it really that hard to just keep your mouth shut? You were with her for, what, thirty minutes?”

  “She doesn’t even care about her daughter. And believe me, I held back. I didn’t so much as raise my voice at her.” Your golden child. The one you could tolerate. The one who got away with everything, while I lived grounded every second I breathed in this house.

  Dad plants his hands on the counter and leans back, glaring fire that could melt the Ivy fountain in winter. “Allison is gone.”

  “What? Where?”

  “Do you think if I knew where I would be standing here? Where do you think I’ve been the last few hours? I’ve looked all over town. I’ve called everyone I know. Your sister has disappeared, and all the nurses know was that they’d heard an argument last night.”

  Fear and guilt bounce on my gag reflexes. “I’m sorry. I didn’t intentionally upset her, but Allison said some horrible things.”

  “Of course she did!” he yells. “She’s mentally and chemically imbalanced. She’s disabled, for crying out loud. She’s bipolar and schizophrenic! Are you proud of yourself, Maggie?” Dad runs his hand over his mouth, his eyes wild. “What has she ever done to you?”

  “She accused me of killing our mother!” My voice pierces the air and hurts my own ears. “Allison may never be able to do anything wrong in your eyes, but she has always been perfectly hideous to me. And you have never cared. You’d let her get away with murder if you could, and somehow find a way to blame me. Well, you know what, Dad? I’m not responsible for the fact that she doesn’t take her medicine. And I’m not responsible for the fact that she eats painkillers like M&Ms.”

  “That’s not her—”

  “Fault? It’s not her fault?” I feel the heat spread across my face. “Is that what you were going to say? Because it is. We’re all stuck with the lives we got, and it’s what you make of it. And this is what she’s making of it.”

  “Is that what they teach you in church?”

  This stops me cold. Deflates me like a popped balloon.

  He walks past me, the air hanging with the scent of his soap and aftershave. “I’m going to work.”

  I don’t say another word. I’m all out of them.

  The front door slams again, and when the truck starts, I’m still glued to the spot. Unmoved. Unblinking. Barely breathing.

  Who says you need water to sink?

  Chapter Seventeen

  At ten after twelve, I’m sitting in the parking lot in front of Ivy League Diner, staring at the pink fluorescent open sign and wondering why I’m here.

  After Dad stormed off, I got in my car and just drove. Cranked up the radio, sang old eighties hits until I was hoarse, and stopped and bought some SweeTarts. Eventually I found myself at the cemetery, sitting in front of Mom’s grave with my legs tucked beneath me. I brought her some wild flowers and rested them on her stone. I didn’t have a single thing to say. Found myself talking to God instead. He was just as silent as the cemetery.

  With a sigh reserved for tax filing and Pap smears, I push on the metal bar of the door and walk into the diner. While I scan the crowd, my mind whizzes with stress-fueled thoughts. What am I doing here? What if Beth’s the only one who wants to see me? Why reconnect with people when I’m only passing through?

  I feel the draw of Connor’s eyes before I see him. My skin prickling, I turn to my left and there in the corner is Beth and her committee. And Connor. Watching me.

  I weave in and around the tables, inhaling the scent of sirloin burgers and homemade fries. And doesn’t that just take me back? Dinners after home football games. My mother bringing my sister and me here for lunch, letting us order dessert for the main course. My first part-time job in high school.

  “Maggie!” Beth throws her hands in the air like I just scored a touchdown. “Look who’s here, guys. Chris, pull up another chair so the girl can sit.”

  “Hey.” I squeeze into the available seat between Beth and Connor, relieved to see Danielle isn’t present. She’s probably too busy harassing small children. “I hope you don’t mind if I crashed your meeting. I promised my old best friend I would buy her lunch if she’d let me tag along.”

  Beth curls her arm around me and gives me a squeeze. “I’m so getting that pie now.”

  I hang my purse over the chair and accidentally bump Connor’s shoulder in the process. “Sorry.”

  He leans toward my ear, his breath brushing my cheek. “We have a conversation to finish.”

  “No. We don’t.”

  Beth taps my hand and pulls my attention back to the table. “Did your sister get all taken care of?”

  I unroll my silverware from the white napkin and set my utensils on either side of my plate. “Um, no.” I dart a glance at Connor. “Allison . . . she left the hospital this morning on her own. We have no idea where she is. Haven’t heard from her.”

  “How did she do that?” Beth asks.

  “One of the nurses thinks she saw her walking the halls with a man. Probably her old boyfriend or something. I don’t know.”

  “Oh, Maggie,” Beth says. “I’ll pray for your family. And poor Riley. How’s your dad taking it?”

  Right up there with the Spanish Inquisition. “He’s hanging on.” To his twisted principles. To the idea that it’s all my fault.

  “Well, on to happier things then, right?” Beth pulls out a note book from her industrial-sized diaper bag. “Okay, so the dance instructors passed the test. Connor and Maggie both told me they had an excellent time.”

  Connor lifts a brow. “You did?”

  I shrug. “It was an okay evening. Beat staying home and watching public television.”

  Beth continues, “So now we need an update on the caterer, the DJ, the band . . .”

  As Beth conducts business, the waitress comes by the table, pops her hip, and rests a tray on it. “What can I get you?”

  “I’ll take the—”

  “My, my my. Lookie here.”

  Oh no. I take in the woman’s white beehive, wrinkled smoker’s pout, and see time stand still.

  “If it isn’t Connie Montgomery’s daughter.”

  “Hello, Mrs. Nicklebock.” My gosh, is the woman still working here? She was the first person I showed my new driver’s license to fourteen years ago. She gave me a free slice of coconut cream pie. And a job.

  “I hear you’re a big-shot TV girl now.”

  I smile. “More like just a girl who heaves around a camera. No big deal.”

  “You remember that time you got all mad at the boss and quit?”

  “It was so long ago and—”

  Connor rests an arm around my chair. “Let’s hear this.”

  Mrs. Nicklebock snorts. “Mr. Clydes, the owner, wouldn’t agree to donate some food to a needy family. Maggie got so mad, she stood on the counter and told the whole diner that Mr. Clydes was buying everyone’s dinner. We sold out of pie and pot roast in five minutes flat.”

  Connor looks at me, his mouth quirking.

  “Mr. Clydes called it robbery, but our Maggie here claimed it was a random act of kindness.” Mrs. Nicklebock slaps her tray and cackles.
>
  “Well, it sure was nice to see you.” I quickly give her my order and study the napkin in my lap like it’s the coolest of inventions.

  “So that gives everyone a job,” I hear Beth say. “Which leaves me with needing someone to check out that new band I heard about. Any takers? Thursday night? No. Okay, Jermaine and Maggie, I’m putting you on this one.”

  My head pops up. “What?” I look to Jermaine O’Dell, but he just shrugs.

  “Yeah.” Beth consults her list. “Everyone here is already committed to other things, except Mark and me. But I promised I’d go with him to that job fair in Dallas.”

  I stir my drink with my straw and give in. “Okay.”

  “Great, let’s talk about the picnic for that Saturday . . .”

  I eat my burger as the group makes plans. I can’t take a breath without being aware of Connor near my space, invading my extra-large bubble. When the table conversation turns to old high-school times, I find myself finally relaxing. I sip my tea and laugh at Beth’s animated tales.

  “Do you remember when Jermaine caught that Hail Mary pass at the finals?” Beth asks. “Ran right into Susan Flanahan, captain of the cheer squad. Knocked her out cold.”

  “Knocked her flat too,” Jermaine says. “She lost the stuffing in her bra on the impact.”

  We finish our meal and return from the trip down memory lane. I hug Beth, tell everyone good-bye, and walk outside into the sunshine toward my Ford.

  I just get the car unlocked when I hear that deep voice behind me. “I think by default, I’ve won our bet.”

  I turn around, my hand on the hood. “I’ve been a little busy.”

  Connor sticks his hands in his jean pockets, the dark denim hanging on him like he uses the same stylist as Brad Pitt. His button-down oxford is untucked, the sleeves rolled up to the forearm. It’s altogether a preppy work of art.

  “Just forfeit and be done with it.” He steps closer, and I see the hint of stubble on his face.

  “I don’t back down, Dr. Blake.”

  “In that case, tell me about last night at the hospital.”

  My face falls. The lights go out. “I have to go.” I swing open the car door, only to find his hand in the way.

  I stare into his face, so close if I just moved mere inches, our lips could touch.

  “I need to know, Maggie. I’m just trying to get my stories straight.”

  “What does that mean? Have you talked to my sister?”

  Connor rubs the back of his neck and nods. “Yes.”

  “Did you help her leave this morning?”

  “Of course not. Look, I know you don’t know me, and you definitely don’t trust me, but I’m trying to help.”

  “Well, don’t. Nobody asked you to.”

  He pauses. “Allison did.”

  The breath stalls in my chest. “Just what exactly is going on between you and my sister?”

  “Why don’t we go talk somewhere?”

  “I have a better idea. Why don’t you just tell me now.”

  The phone on his hip vibrates, and he grabs it at once. “It’s the clinic. I have to go.”

  “Connor, I need information. What do you know about Allison?”

  He clips the phone back in its place. “Bring Riley out to see her puppy after school. We’ll talk.”

  “Connor—”

  “See you then.” He walks away, full of confidence and purpose. Comfortable with his place in this town and in the world in general.

  And I stand there, clutching the door of a Ford Focus, never more uncertain in my life.

  When I pick up Riley at school, her face tells me she didn’t have a very good day. Like a girl who doesn’t know which direction her world is spinning. Like her aunt.

  “Hey, kiddo.” I give her a brief hug, even though, predictably, she squirms right out of it. “How was school?”

  She shuts the car door and buckles up. “The best,” she drolls. “I’m in a stupid play about history.”

  I take a swig of my bottled water. “Seriously?” I wave to the crosswalk guard and drive on. “That’s awesome, Riley! What’s your part? Martha Washington? Mary Lincoln? A Constitutional go-go dancer?”

  “A horse’s butt.”

  I spew water all over the steering wheel.

  “See?” She throws up her hands. “It’s stupid.”

  I wipe my mouth. “No. No, it’s not. Just um . . . well, I’m excited about it. I can’t wait to see it.”

  “Like you’ll be here.”

  “Actually I’m going to stay for a few more weeks.”

  I don’t know if I was expecting my niece to burst with unbridled happiness, but she simply stares.

  “I’ll see your play. I promise.” As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I want to grab each one back. I promise? I can’t just throw out promises. What if I get the National Geographic job, and they need me immediately?

  “By the way, my teacher said to tell you thank you for volunteering to make the costumes for our class play.”

  I blink. “What are you talking about?”

  Riley shrugs. “She asked if any of our parents or guardians would want to help, and I told her you were all over it.” My niece hands over a folded note from Mrs. Ellis. I scan the lines with dread as I read the costume requirements.

  “What were you thinking?”

  “It was either you or Megan Oberman’s mom, and I’m not wearing anything she makes.”

  “You did this to me on purpose, didn’t you?” Some sort of weird, twisted, elementary school punishment. “I don’t even know how to sew.”

  “Good thing you have three weeks to learn.” She traces a path on the window. “So how’s Mom?”

  Crap. She still doesn’t know. “Why don’t we go get some ice cream and talk about it. I think we could both use it.”

  Her finger stills. “She didn’t go to rehab, did she?”

  There’s just no way to soften this. “No. She decided to get away and spend some time with a friend instead.”

  Tired, wary eyes blink back at me. “She’s on the run. Again.”

  “We’ll find her.” I reach out my hand and rest it gently on Riley’s, but she shoves it away with an angry huff.

  Two chocolate chunk scoops later, Riley and I walk into the vet clinic. The receptionist doesn’t even speak. With her ear pressed to a phone, she waves her hand toward the back.

  My hand on Riley’s shoulder, I lead her to her puppy. Matilda whines in her warm bed, and Riley reaches out her hand to rub it across the dog’s damaged body. I dig into my purse and pull out my smallest camcorder.

  “Are you seriously gonna use that thing?”

  I look at her in the screen. “Yep.”

  She rolls her eyes as she checks a nearby chart. “Time to eat, Matilda.” She walks into another room, like she’s perfectly at home, and returns a minute later with a bottle. “Here you go.”

  “You can take her out.”

  Riley and I both turn at Connor’s voice. I lower the camera.

  “Why don’t you sit down and spend some time with Matilda?” With eyes only for Riley, he gestures to a chair in the corner. “Lift her out gently. There you go. You’re a natural with her.”

  I begin filming again as the puppy curls into Riley’s waiting arms. A smile spreads on her face that I find myself mirroring.

  A few minutes later, I tug on Connor’s sleeve. “Can I see you for a moment?”

  “Follow me.” He opens a door, and I trail behind him into another hall. Shutting us inside, he leans against the wall, arms crossed.

  “Did my sister call you this morning?” I ask, my voice a soft whisper.

  His blue eyes fuse into mine. “I’ve already told your dad all I know.”

  “Well, enlighten me.”

  He stares down that perfect Roman nose at me. “Allison called me from somewhere on the road. A number in Dallas. She said she was fine, and she’d come back when she got things straightened out.”

&n
bsp; I focus on a spot on the tile floor until it’s a blur in my eye. That is so like my sister. How is it I get called the selfish one? “And why is it she’s calling you, Connor?”

  “Because we’re friends.”

  “Want to expand on that?”

  His lips quirk. “Jealous?”

  “Oh yeah,” I sass. “Just eaten up with it. Can you just save me some time and level with me?”

  “We became friends at church about four years ago when I came back home to Ivy.”

  “Allison—at church?”

  “She just showed up one Sunday. Sat in a back pew, and I would always stop and talk to her. She came faithfully for about two months. I guess we kind of formed a bond. She trusted me, and eventually began to confide in me.”

  “Anything else?”

  Connor lifts an arrogant brow. “Are you asking me if we dated?”

  “Just answer the question.”

  “No. We did not date.” He pushes off the wall with his foot and steps closer. I’m suddenly aware of the lack of space. “Now, it’s your turn to do the talking. What did you and your sister talk about last night at the hospital?”

  “I didn’t go in there to intentionally upset her, if that’s what you’re getting at.” The blood pumps through my angry veins. I’m so sick of being on the defense.

  “Anybody ever tell you you’re a little overly emotional?”

  “Anybody ever tell you you’re too confident for someone who can probably converse in Klingon?”

  He has the nerve to laugh. “About last night?”

  I count to five and begin again. “She started getting all weird.” I relay everything Allison said about Riley. “I couldn’t just sit there and listen to it. But other than defending Riley, I did not antagonize her.”

  “Anything else?”

  You watched her drown and did nothing. You took away my mother, then left me alone! “No.” I put my hand on the doorknob, ready to go back inside, but his fingers move to cover mine.

  “Not so fast.”

  Connor leans on the door, his Spearmint breath fanning my cheek. “I was honest with you. Now you come clean with me. What else did you two talk about?”

  Knots twist and tighten in my gut as Allison’s cruel words about the night of my mother’s death replay in my head. “I got upset over her blasé tone about her daughter and just left.”