The following year, Aunt Presley had twins and my poor Cora was now in a house surrounded by boys. The girls were a handful, but I couldn’t imagine what she was going through.
Occasionally, I thought about her and wondered what she was up to and how much she had changed. I still talked to Gram, who assured me that she wouldn’t let her forget about me.
Jace and I were still best friends, and the tree house was my only refuge when it came to Emma and Becca. We spent a lot of time up there and started a tree house band. We were actually pretty decent. I played guitar and sang while Jace played keyboard.
I was ecstatic the year my parents quit pushing sports on me. That was Dad’s thing, and honestly I wanted to stay as far away from it as possible. I never wanted to be accused of getting a position because of who my family was or who I was connected to.
It didn’t matter that I was only in the fourth grade, down in Texas, sports are a religion all their own.
Aunt Presley could be scary at times, and Uncle Robert was now one of the highest-paid players in the league.
Fourth grade would be starting in a few days and Jace and I were having one last sleepover in the tree house before school started.
“I’m gonna have Mrs. Corn this year. I heard she was really mean. I heard she even used a paddle on a kid last year. You know I’m not a good kid.”
Jace was talking, but my mind was preoccupied. The cleaning company had been out to Cora’s house today, but I knew better than to get my hopes up; they were there every few months or so. Mom and Dad kept an eye on the house, but it sat vacant for the most part.
“Dude! Are you even paying attention to what I’m saying?”
“Huh? Sorry.” I shake my head, trying to focus my attention back to the present.
“What’s so important about that house, anyway?” Jace comes and stares out the window, looking toward Cora’s house. “Nobody even lives there. Why do you keep looking at it?”
“What? Nothing. No reason. I’m tired. Let’s go to sleep.” I open my sleeping bag just as the coyotes begin their night song. They still freak Jace out a little; but the lonely howl seemed to resonate with my own emptiness.
Hopefully, he forgets about my lack of attention by the morning. I’m just not feeling the guy’s night tonight.
* * *
“Cora,” Mommy’s voice is a soft whisper as she runs her hand over my leg trying to wake me up softly. “Cora sweetie, we’re here.”
My eyes flutter open, and I look around. The night is pitch black, and the thumbnail of a moon does little to light a path from the car to the house. “I’m tired mommy.”
“I know, sweetie. It’s really late. Do you remember where your room is?”
I nod. I vaguely remember my room, but surely it can’t be that hard to find. I know it’s one of the rooms upstairs and it’s probably the only one that looks like a little girl’s room.
“Go on up. Aunt Liv made sure to put some pajamas on your bed. Put them on and then crawl in, I’ll be up in a minute, okay.”
As I make my way into the house, I see Aunt Liv carrying Franklin to his room and Uncle Trey helping Daddy to the couch.
“It’s good to have you home, little one. I know of a little boy that will be very happy to see you in the morning.”
“Who?” I ask, confused.
“Remember, we talked about Jackson, sweetheart,” Mommy says from just behind me.
“Did he sing me “Twinkle Twinkle” when I was little?”
Aunt Liv gives me a little smile and nods her head. “That’s him.”
“Well, I don’t really remember him. I’m going back to sleep.” I close the door to my room and look around. This isn’t my home. This isn’t my stuff. I don’t like it here and I want to go home.
I silently cry while putting my pajamas on and then crawl into bed, turning out the light so Mommy can't see my tears when she comes in to say good night.
As much as I want to go back to sleep, to dream away my nightmare I can't.
School had just started in Toronto when Daddy hurt his arm and Mommy said we had to come here so he could have a special surgery.
I had to leave all my friends and ballet school behind. I was mad at Daddy for getting hurt, and I was mad at Mommy for making us move. There were doctors at home, I shouldn’t have had to move to a different country.
Now I was going to have to do the first day of first grade all over again, except this time I wouldn’t have any friends.
Once I was sure Mommy wouldn’t be back in, I went to my window and opened the curtains to look outside. It was dark and the vast emptiness seemed to stretch on for miles and miles. Thousands of stars looked like little lightning bugs stuck to a big black sheet of paper. I’d never seen these many stars before. In the city the lights were too bright, and the night sky always had a purple glow to it.
Thinking about the differences between this home and our other home made me cry again. Before we left, Mommy said this would be our new home for the next year.
One year, that’s all I had to get through. I would put on my big girl pants and take it one day at a time and when I couldn’t do that, I would try to take it hour by hour, or minute by minute if I had to.
Eventually I crawl back into bed and snuggle the little white stuffed dog that Mommy gave me after Kringle went to puppy heaven. He was the best dog ever, but Mommy and Daddy said he had just gotten really old. I sniffle and then, making sure to control the volume of my voice, I close my eyes and let a little squeak out, “Gram? If you’re listening…please let everything be okay.”
That night the memory of a train ride, Santa, ballet slippers and a little boy singing “Twinkle Twinkle” lulled me off to sleep.
* * *
The sun is just beginning to rise behind the trees, softly ushering me awake. I roll over and look at Jace who is still fast asleep. Last night’s dream about Cora’s first time on the Polar Express still fresh in the recess of my mind. Sitting up and looking out the window to Cora’s window, I’m greeted with the welcomed surprise of opened curtains.
My eyes dart to the driveway where a black suburban sits out front. It’s the car we keep at the airfield when we use Grandpa Walter’s plane.
“Cora!” I excitedly whisper in a way that steals my breath.
I quickly hurry down the tree house steps, up the hill to the house and barge in through the back door. Mom and the girls are in the kitchen making cinnamon rolls, the kind from a can, mom still can't cook, but Emma is beginning to get the hang of it. I think Becca may take after Mom in that department.
“Mom! Mom! Are they here? Are they really here?”
Mom beams while the twins look at me as if I’ve lost my mind.
“Who? Who’s here?”
“Yep.” I give Mom the biggest hug as she’s just made my entire year. Even if they are only here for a couple of days, I’ll take whatever I can get. “But Jax, she doesn’t remember you. She was just a little girl when she left. Give her some time and don’t force anything. She’s been through a lot.”
Emma and Becca still seem confused about who we’re talking about. “Umm…hello…who’s here?” Becca rolls her eyes at me, places her hands on her hips and begins to tap her foot in exasperation.
“Cora, Becca. And loose the attitude. You don’t need to know everything that’s going on.”
Again she rolls her eyes and mumbles something under her breath, Emma just stands there waiting for more explanation. For a set of twins, Emma and Becca could be strangers. Emma has blonde wavy hair, dark brown eyes like mine, caramel skin somewhere between Mom and Dad and is quiet. Becca has dark raven black hair, just like Dad’s mom, blue eyes like Mom, and an almost pale complexion. She is the smart aleck out of the three of us, and a true tomboy. She is hands down Dad’s favorite, into sports already; Mom says she’s six going on twenty-six, whatever that means.
“Girls, Cora is going to start school with you two and I expect you to be nice.”
&
nbsp; “Yes, Mommy,” Emma says in her singsong voice while Becca scoffs a ‘whatever’.
Mom focuses her attention back on me. “Lord help me when that child gets older,” Mom mutters under her breath as she pulls the cinnamon rolls out of the oven.
I chuckle; it’s kinda funny watching Mom get worked up over Becca. Her name alone gives the illusion of a sweet, innocent girl, but that’s just her camouflage. Mom blames me for her being the way she is. Maybe if I hadn’t referred to her as a demon-possessed monster when she was little, maybe she wouldn’t have had this need for self-fulfilling prophecy.
“Jax, help me frost these and then take them over to Aunt Presley for breakfast. Aunt P is gonna have her hands full for a while, I’m gonna need you to help her out with the boys.”
“Yes, ma’am.” She kisses my temple and I’m glad I decided to go easy on her today.
“Is Jace still sleeping?”
“Yeah.”
“That boy could sleep till noon if we let him.”
I finish frosting the almost not burnt cinnamon rolls and walk them next door. Knocking hard three times and standing back waiting on the door to open.
I hear the running of little feet and screaming coming from behind the door. Mom was right about Aunt P needing help with the boys.
“I got it.”
“No! It’s mine.”
“Mommy!”
Screeching and wailing like nails on a chalkboard, and my heart hurts for my Cora. If this is what she has to deal with on a daily basis I will gladly help her out.
“Cora, honey, will you get that? It’s Jax.” Aunt Presley calls out moments before a firm little voice can be heard.
“Move it pip-squeaks!”
My little Cora doesn’t sound so little, and it’s safe to say she’s most definitely gotten her mother’s attitude.
The door swings open revealing a blonde hair, green-eyed, take no shit little girl, who I knew was one day going to be the death of me.
Chapter Twenty-Two
“Morning Cora,” I smirk on my way through the door while she just stands there letting me by. Mom said that she didn’t really remember me; the last thing I want to do is to scare her by coming on too strong. I know she’ll come around when she’s ready. “Hey Aunt P, Mom made cinnamon rolls this morning for you guys. She figured you didn’t have anything in the house for breakfast.”
Aunt Presley nearly chokes on her cup of coffee as I come into view, “Oh my gosh! You’ve gotten so handsome and are such a little gentleman.” She takes the cinnamon rolls from me and wraps me in one of her big comforting hugs. “Oh, I’ve missed you so much, Jax! Let me introduce you to the new ones. Obviously you remember Cora.”
She looks at me suspiciously and gives me a side eye, just like she gave Santa our last Christmas together.
Seems only fitting though, since I was the one to teach her that little expression.
“Then there’s Franklin: he’s three and a half…”
“Mommy! I’m almost four.”
I laugh at his cute little outburst. He looks like the male version of Cora, except with brown eyes.
“And then the twins, Jeff and Ryan; they’re two.”
The twins look just like Uncle Robert: dark brown hair, olive skin, except brown eyes instead of his blue.
“Boys, this is Jackson.”
I offer a wave, “Hey guys.” The boys look at me for a second before focusing back on whatever cartoon is playing.
I give my attention to Cora, who I can tell has her defenses up. “Cora, you’ve gotten big.”
“I’m six and starting first grade,” she says while bobbling her head, accompanying her dramatic eye roll and flipping her curly hair over her shoulder.
The sass is strong in her, that’s for sure. I’m almost positive the boys drained every last drop of sweetness she once held. She’ll be a strong one when she’s older.
“I know. My mom told me. We’re gonna be in the same school. I can show you where everything is if you want me too.” She doesn’t say a thing, just glares at me. “Cora, do you remember me at all?”
She shrugs and looks unsure of how to answer. “Doesn’t matter,” she says through pursed lips. “I’m only going to be here for a little while and then we’re going back home. Isn’t that right Mommy?”
What? Back home? No.
“We’ll see, sweetie. Daddy has to get his arm better first.” Aunt Presley looks at me, “Robert tore a ligament in his elbow and needs surgery, followed by months of rehab.” She takes a deep breath, “Usually, there’s no coming back from this kind of injury.” She looks sad as she shares the news and the reason they are back in Texas. Baseball was everything to Uncle Robert. He must be just as sad.
I don’t want to overstay my welcome, and since Cora has no intention of talking to me, there’s really no reason to stay. “Well, I’m gonna head back over. See if Jace finally woke up yet.”
“Was that your friend from kindergarten?”
“Yep. We started a band and had our last sleepover last night before school started. He’s probably still asleep in the tree house.”
Out of the corner of my eye I notice Cora perk up at the mention of the tree house. “I can take you down there sometime if you want to go see it.”
“Why would I want to go to a smelly boys’ tree house, anyway.”
I chuckle. Maybe she’s related to Becca.
“Cora!” Aunt P seems appalled, but at least she’s talking to me. “Be nice. Jax is just trying to be friendly.”
“It’s okay Aunt P. She doesn’t remember me. Anyway, I better get back.” I head towards the front door, waving on my way out, “Bye guys. Bye Aunt Presley. See ya around, Buttercup.” I chuckle on the last part.
“The name’s Cora.” She stamps out.
She’s got a temper on her, that’s for sure, but I kind of like it. Why is that?
“Whatever you say, Buttercup.”
She bares her teeth and growls at me. Why am I purposely trying to get her mad? Better yet, why do I think it’s funny to make her mad? She stomps her way upstairs as I head out the front door.
“Let me know if you need any help, Aunt P.”
“Thank you Jackson. Cora is…a handful, that’s for sure. Just give her time, I’m sure she’ll come around. We’ll see you later.”
* * *
Who is this Jackson guy?
He looks familiar, like the boy from my dreams, but this Jackson is older.
The Jackson from my dreams is nice, and sweet, and always sings me “Twinkle Twinkle” when I’m sad.
This Jackson is a jerk!
But I wonder where the tree house is. It would be nice to get away from the demon triplets once in a while. I look out my window, press my cheek to the glass and I think I’m able to see it. Jackson and another boy are playing in it. Maybe I’ll go see it one day when he’s not there, of course.
* * *
The first day of school was absolutely terrible.
I got lost on the way back from the bathroom; no one would let me sit with them at lunch, and Emma and Becca wouldn’t play with me on the playground. I missed my friends and my old school. It wasn’t fair we had to come down here.
I wish Daddy could have come by himself, but Mommy said we would miss him too much, and she said she was in charge of getting him better again. Daddy wasn’t happy about that part.
I climb into the car after school was over and Mommy kept asking me questions I didn’t want to answer.
“How was school?”
I gave her my mean grimace.
“Did you make any friends?”
Grimace.
“Cora Ann are you going to answer any of my questions?”
“No. There I answered one.”
After the long, and semi-quiet, quiet on my part, but Mommy likes to talk and irritate me, drive we finally pull into the driveway. The second the car stops, I get out and sprint down to the tree house. I can hear Mommy yelling after me, “Cora!
Cora Ann!” But I don’t stop. I need to get as far away from today as I possibly can. I reach the bottom of the tree house and look up at it. It’s quiet so I quickly climb the steps leading up to the hole in the floor.
Gingerly peeking my head inside, I take a look around. It’s nice for a boy’s tree house, I guess.
I don’t want to be found, so I make myself as small as I can and tuck myself away in a corner before I let the tears fall. This was seriously the single worst day of my whole entire life.
“Rough day?” Jax’s smooth, caring voice towers above me, and I bury my face further into my knees.
“No.”
“Then why are you crying, Buttercup.”
“Don’t call me Buttercup! And it’s none of your beeswax. Just go away.”
He sits down next to me, obviously he must have stuffing in his ears.
“I can’t.”
Well, that’s an odd thing to say. He brought himself in here, surly he can see himself out.
“You’re hurt, and I promised someone I would always look out for you, I would protect you and make sure you were always happy.”
That seems like a silly promise to make someone. Nobody can be happy all the time; even I know that, but his statement did make me feel safe, and though I don’t remember him that well, something inside of me knew that what he was saying was true. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“That’s fine. I’ll just sit here with you.”
I don’t remember much about the rest of the night. I guess I was so tired after my fit that I fell asleep. I do, however, remember Jackson playing with my hair and singing “Twinkle Twinkle” to me. I think I even laid my head in is lap. He didn’t talk; he was just nice.
The next morning I wake up in my bed and am reminded that I have to do everything all over again. Just take it minute by minute, Cora. Maybe today will be better.
Nope.
The rest of the week is just as bad as the first day.
Tag Fight For Me Page 18
