“What about her?” Zach shot back. “Oliver said I could go with them.”
“Carrie treated you a heckuva lot better than you deserved. If your dad were here, what would he have done?”
Zach’s expression tightened with pain. “I don’t know. I can’t remember him anymore.”
The kid had been eight when his parents died. Young, but not too young. “I’m guessin’ you remember enough. What would he have said if you’d run off today?”
Zach’s shoulders fell.
“I thought so,” Greg said. “And your mom?”
“Carrie’s not my mom!”
“No, but she’s as close as you’ve got, and frankly, she’s doin’ a good job.”
Zach chucked another rock. “I knew you were on her side.”
“Hey, I’m on your side. Why do you think I sent her inside? She was ready to skin you alive back there. I just saved your life, kid. You should be thanking me.”
Zach nearly smiled. “Maybe.”
Seeing a small window of opportunity, Greg decided to push. “So I’m gonna be blunt ‘cause I think you can handle it. It’s time to man up, Zach. If you’re the man of the house, your sisters should come first before you. Carrie shouldn’t have to tell you to do the chickens, it should be done before she’s up. No more messin’ around in class either. You’re lucky to be getting an education.”
Zach didn’t look thrilled about the lecture, but he didn’t argue, so Greg kept going.
“Your situation isn’t all that different than mine was. I had a mom and a sister to take care of. You have Carrie, who’s kinda like your mom, plus Amber to take care of.”
“How did your sister die?” Zach asked quietly.
A fair question, but it twisted Greg’s stomach. He nearly sidestepped it, but Zach needed to know the kind of world waiting out there.
“She had asthma pretty bad,” he said, looking out over the sprawling gray pond. “Last spring she caught pneumonia on top of it. It got so she could hardly breathe. So my mom and I packed up, left our clan, and sneaked into a government municipality in Raleigh.”
“What was it like?”
“As bad as they say and worse. The government thinks they’re helpin’ everybody with these welfare municipalities, but there are more people than spaces to put them in. Blue cardies slave for every scrap of food—at least those lucky enough to find a job.” Greg shrugged. “Once inside the fence, I begged every factory for a job. I had to get money so they’d let Kendra into the hospital. I lucked out and found a job shoveling leftover chicken parts in a slaughter house.”
Zach pulled a face. “Ew.”
Greg nodded, remembering the smells and the sounds—mostly the smells. “I worked from sunup until nine or ten at night, depending on how late they’d let me stay. It’d get so I could hardly think straight, but in the end…” His muscles seized in memory. “It wasn’t enough. It’s my fault Kendra died.”
“Why?” Zach whispered.
Greg picked up a rock and rubbed the dirt from it absentmindedly. “One day…the midnight shift guy didn’t show up, so this other guy and I had to work double hard. Our foreman was a patrolman with a major attitude. A real jerk. He started yellin’ at the guy for fallin’ behind. The guy was older than my mom, down to skin and bones, and he could hardly lift the heavy buckets on a good day. So I figured we’d work together. I’d help him with his pile, and then we’d work on mine. We were makin’ good time, but the patrolman didn’t like it. He told me I was stealin’ the older guy’s work and I should focus on my own. So I did. Until the guy fell behind again, and the foreman clubbed him with a nightstick.”
“He hit him?”
Greg nodded. “Hard. Real hard.” Even a year later, the incident made him seethe. “The old guy dropped like a sack, so…I punched the foreman. A lot.” Because that was his answer to everything.
The Canadian Geese slowly worked their way back, but they flocked to the opposite side of the pond, keeping a safe distance from the two of them. A smart move.
“Once they pulled me off him,” Greg went on, rubbing his rock, “not only did I get the beating of a lifetime, but they fired me on the spot. They kept all my unpaid wages, and the foreman wrote up a report, making it impossible for me to work anywhere else.”
“But that’s not fair! You were just trying to help that old guy.”
“Fair?” Greg said. “That’s what I’m tryin’ to tell you, Zach. You live in a protected little corner of the world. Because of Oliver—and only because of Oliver—y’all are safe. But Oliver’s not like other patrolmen. If his boss found out he was helping us, Oliver wouldn’t just get beat up, he wouldn’t just get fired. He’d be dead.”
Zach’s blue eyes widened. “Really?”
Greg nodded slowly. “Look, I know everything feels all hunky dory here, and you should be able to go wherever you want, but out there,” he pointed past the pond, “it’s uglier than ugly. You don’t wanna be out there. Trust me.”
Zach picked up his slingshot and pretended to study it, although his eyes were far from focused.
“So what happened to your sister?” he asked softly.
Greg’s jaw clenched. He flung his rock into the wide expanse of gray water, thinking, remembering, and hating himself all over again.
“When I showed up at the hospital,” he said softly, “I begged the doctors to keep givin’ her medicine even though I didn’t have the money. They refused. They cut off her medicine right then.” Fury clouded his vision. “Kendra died that night. Suffocated in her own body. My mom and I left the next day and came here.”
Zach said nothing which was the nicest thing he could say.
When Greg spoke again, his voice was a whisper. “It eats me every day that I failed my sister, Zach. Every. Single. Day. I was the man of the house, and she died ‘cause I was a stupid, hotheaded fool.”
“Like me?” Zach asked.
Greg didn’t respond, but the message was implied. And now his mom was dying because he couldn’t find her help. What about Jenna? Another hotheaded fight that ended with another death.
Who next?
He glanced over his shoulder. Carrie stood at her kitchen window, watching them from a distance.
Greg stood suddenly and brushed off his jeans. “Look, I gotta go, but I wanted to make sure you understand. Carrie and Amber come first over everything now, even you. Their safety—their happiness—come first.”
Safety.
Happiness.
The words tasted bitter to Greg after what he’d just made a move with Carrie, throwing her future—and her siblings’ futures—to the wind. But Zach nodded, unaware of Greg’s hypocrisy.
“That means you gotta go inside and apologize to Carrie and Amber,” Greg said. “And apologize to everybody else for scaring the livin’ daylights out of them—just like Amber apologized for the raid. Then you gotta accept whatever punishment Carrie gives you without complaint. And…” He waited until Zach looked up. “You can’t ever leave the neighborhood. Ever again.”
Zach kicked the grass beneath him. “That’s not fair.”
“I know, but you’ll do it ‘cause it’s the right thing to do.”
The right thing.
How Greg loathed those words.
“Fine.” Sighing, Zach stood. “Is that why you hate chickens so bad?”
Greg nodded. “With a passion.”
Slowly, Zach headed up his yard for the deck stairs. But before he reached the sliding glass door to his kitchen, he turned back. “It wasn’t your fault, Greg,” he called. “You didn’t know what would happen to your sister. You were just trying to help that guy.”
Trying to help.
That was always Greg’s justification.
His fists clenched, knowing Zach wasn’t the only one who needed to man up.
“That doesn’t change the fact that she’s dead, and I coulda stopped it,” he said. “So go on. And when you’re done, tell Carrie I need to talk to her. I’
ll be waitin’ right here.”
nine
CARRIE HEADED FOR THE sliding glass door, still in shock. Zach had not only apologized, but he hadn’t argued about being grounded or missing the drive, making her curious about what Greg had said out there.
But as she slid open the door, something on the kitchen counter caught her eye. She crossed the room and picked up a jar filled with several small branches from a—she sniffed the blossoms—Bradford Pear tree? The clusters of white flowers were gorgeous but horribly pungent. Definitely a flowering pear tree.
There was no way Amber would have cut the branches for their house. And Carrie had been with May and Mariah all afternoon. Sasha? But that didn’t seem likely.
Then she spotted something else. Someone had scattered a dusting of flour on her counter and, with a finger, drawn a single word into the dust:
THANKS
Carrie broke into a wide smile and looked outside. Greg stood by the pond, waiting for her.
Her heart sped up. Greg had brought her flowers, and she doubted they were from the neighborhood. He’d been in town today, saw the same trees Oliver had, and wanted to bring a piece of them back to her as thanks for his house. Those trees must be a sight to behold for the two men, who cared little about flowers themselves, to take notice.
She thought about how Greg had hugged her so tightly out there, how he’d grabbed her hand without thinking, dropped it, but then grabbed it again, as if finally breaking through whatever walls had been holding him back. Her smile grew. No wonder he’d been so angry about her drive with Oliver. He must have sneaked those flowers into her house before cards, before Zach, before everything.
Joy grew inside of her.
She hadn’t looked in a mirror, and with the rain, she didn’t want to. She’d always felt plain with her wavy hair and fair skin. Her clothes were ugly and her body model thin, but at Mariah’s wedding, Greg had called her beautiful—stunningly beautiful—and she wanted nothing more than for him to still think she was.
Setting her flowers aside, she reached up and undid her braid. Then she finger-combed her damp hair, hoping it would look naturally wavy and not scraggly. With a quick breath, she slid open her kitchen door and made her way down to the pond. Greg’s head came up with her approach, but he stayed facing away from her.
“Thank you, Greg. For”—her mind swirled—“everything. I think that’s the most penitent I’ve ever seen Zach.”
“It needed to be said,” Greg said, kicking some mud off his shoes. “And so does somethin’ else.”
The breeze coming off the pond chilled her still-damp clothes. She hugged herself and bit the insides of her cheeks to keep from smiling. It was strange to feel so many emotions in such a short time.
When Greg faced her, though, his expression was more stoic than she expected. He took in her hair down and wavy, which made her blush. Of course he would notice.
“Can I be blunt, Carrie?”
Are you ever not? she thought, but she nodded.
“It’s time for you to move on,” he said. “I need you to quit lookin’ at me like you do, to quit talkin’ to me like you do, makin’ muffins, and”—his eyes took in her hair again, blowing softly in the breeze—“all of it. I think it’s time for you to move on and hate me already.”
“Hate you?” she said, stunned. “I could never—”
“I don’t think you and I should see each other anymore.”
The ground dropped out from under her.
“What?”
Greg nodded. “I think we should avoid each other as best as we can from now on.”
It took a moment before she was able to regain her composure. “May I ask why?”
He faced the pond. “Today with Zach was another reminder that you and I could never work—that I shouldn’t even consider the possibility. This clan needs Oliver, and Oliver needs you. Zach is…well, he feels caged. But Oliver can give you the kinda life you deserve. No more squatting on government property. No more worrying when the next meal will come, or fearing for your brother’s life when curiosity takes him too far.”
She bit her lip, and though she couldn’t say it full voice, she said it just the same. “Oliver isn’t the only one with his citizenship.”
Greg’s eyes rose heavenward. “Oh, so now you’re gonna accept my proposal? You’re killin’ me.”
Her face flushed red hot. “No. I just meant…”
He whipped out his yellow card. “You think this flimsy thing does me a bit of good, Carrie? I was nearly arrested today just for walkin’ down the street. Two patrolmen stopped me, guns and all.”
“What?” She searched every inch of him. “What did they do to you? Are you hurt? How come you didn’t say anything?”
“I’m fine. The point is that even if I wanted to get you legal, and even if the government let us tack you, Amber, and Zach onto the family, we can’t afford it. Grandpa’s broke. Taxes alone, and he’s outta money in ten months. Ten months!” He kicked a dirt clod, sending it sailing into the pond.
The blows kept coming. She struggled to keep up.
“I thought we had several years left of money,” she said. “Not months.”
“That’s ‘cause Grandpa forgot that this new regime is a bunch of filthy, slimy crooks. When the money’s gone, that’s it. My family’s back to where y’all are. No house. No citizenship. Nothin’.”
She felt sick. That’s why he’d been so upset earlier.
“I had no idea, Greg.”
“Nobody does. I planned to break the news at the meeting tonight. But now with this whole Oliver partner mess…” He let out a long sigh.
“What about the flower shop?” she said suddenly. Greg had been so excited about his idea before, yet she hadn’t heard a word about it since she turned down his idea to get her legal. “You had some elaborate plan about us earning money, buying homes one by one.”
His jaw tightened. “The mayor turned me down flat today. I pitched the whole idea, but he turned it down flat ‘cause it’s a stupid idea. They were pie in the sky dreams. It’s over, Carrie, and we’re in serious trouble.”
He looked so defeated, but he couldn’t be.
Not Greg.
“Maybe the mayor just needs time,” she said. “I know you can make it work.”
“Me?” He turned, eyes narrowing on her. “That’s just it. I can’t do it alone. I’d need you and Richard and so many things, it just can’t work. We’re outta money, almost outta citizenship, so it’s time for you to move on and choose Oliver already.”
She hugged herself, desperate for the gift of words to fight his logic. The more she knew about Greg Pierce, the harder she fell for him. Catching glimpses that he felt something for her in return only made the pull stronger. He might try to keep people—and her—at a distance, but he had a good heart. Her life would only benefit from having him in it. Same with Zach and Amber’s. Life in the clan had never been simple. They would figure things out. They had to.
She looked up at him. “No.”
He pinched the rim of his nose. “For the love of all that is holy, why can’t you quit fightin’ me on this? I’m havin’ a hard enough time convincing myself to stay away from you. Even if there was a way to get money, Carrie, I have a citizenship card that can be revoked, a house that can be repossessed, chickens that can be shot, and wells that can be destroyed. Oliver has money, real money. He has a paycheck and a house with heat and running water—running hot water. He has food he doesn’t have to grow or kill himself, clothes without rips, a car, phone, TV, and even a stupid umbrella, plus his citizenship. We’re a sinking ship, Carrie, and he’s throwing you a life preserver. So take it already and be done with it.”
The words flew out of him like he’d rehearsed them. But he wasn’t done.
“Oliver’s the good one, remember? You told me yourself. Your perfect man.” His eyes searched hers, pleading for understanding. “Braden has the charm, I have the looks, and Oliver has the goodness. He’s
the good one.”
How she regretted that conversation because what Greg didn’t realize—and what it took her too long to notice—was that he had all three: the charm, the looks, and the goodness. Only he didn’t see himself that way. He only saw the bad, the flaws, the mistakes.
Would he ever forgive himself?
If she was anyone else, she would have grabbed his hand like he’d grabbed hers, or wiggled her way back into his warm arms. Maybe if she had a different personality, more forward or flirtatious, he wouldn’t be able to brush her off so easily. The best she could do was hold his steady gaze.
“Of course I want all that,” she said. “But at what cost?”
“You’re doin’ it now,” he whispered. “Lookin’ at me like that. You gotta stop. Seriously. It’s killin’ me.”
“Greg…”
She started to reach for him, but he took a step back.
He could be so aggravatingly stubborn. She wasn’t trying to manipulate him or whatever he thought she was doing. She was just trying to figure out what was going on in that head of his.
“You promised to stop pushing me to be with Oliver,” she said. “So why are you?”
He kicked more mud from his shoe. “I won’t anymore, ‘cause you’re not gonna see me again.”
She went cold. “What do you mean, I’m not going to see you?”
When he didn’t answer, her heart raced in understanding. “You can’t leave the clan.” He threatened as much after Jenna’s death. “You promised me that you’d stay. You promised.”
“I don’t have to leave to disappear.”
He’d proven that the last two weeks.
Her insides began to shake. She was losing Greg again, only this wasn’t just some proverbial wall he was hiding behind. It was an electric fence, with barbed wire and no way to see through—to see him.
Citizens of Logan Pond Box Set Page 47
