Only a Breath Apart

by Katie McGarry

Not wanting to discuss this where Isabelle can overhear, I walk into the hallway and Jesse follows. I lean my back against a wall and Jesse props himself up on the opposite one.

  “Talk to me, Tink,” he says, and my heart melts over how much he cares.

  “Mom said it was my fault Dad hit her. She also thinks it’s her fault. What happened is everyone’s fault but his.”

  “Do you believe that?”

  The answer should be an immediate no. I’m aware of this, but there’s this twisting in my stomach that keeps me from saying it. My foot taps the floor, and I hug myself. “He did hit her because of me. I made him mad. If I had kept my mouth shut, if I hadn’t left the house, if I hadn’t lied, if—”

  “If you had never met me?” Jesse wears a sad smile.

  My chest rips apart. “No. You’re part of the small amount of good in my life.”

  “You aren’t responsible for what your dad did. He’s responsible for his choices.”

  “But if I hadn’t caused problems it wouldn’t have happened.”

  “So if you’re perfect, there will be world peace? That’s not how it works. Yeah, you lied, but for the rest of the world that means you’re grounded from using your cell for a week, not watching your mom get beat. Your dad demanded his idea of perfection, and there is no one on this planet who can live up to that expectation. You aren’t the one who messed up, he is.”

  My leg bounces as I fight the urge to cry. “What if I call the police and they blame me? I can’t handle that.”

  “What if you call and they go over to your house and see the bruises on your mom? What if they believe you and tell you that you aren’t to blame?”

  I’m so nervous, I could peel off my own skin. “What’s going to happen to me if I do call? What’s going to happen to Isabelle? What if I make everything worse?”

  Jesse drops his head, pinches the bridge of his nose, and when he lifts his head my heart cracks as his eyes hold tears. “What if you do nothing and the next time he kills her? Because that’s what happened to me. My mom was hit by so many men, and I did nothing. I expected her to save me instead of me saving her, until one day my dad killed her. And that guilt that I carry? I’m dying every damn day. You once asked if I’m cursed, and the truth is I am. I’m doomed to hear her scream every day for the rest of my life and know that I did nothing. I knew she was being treated badly, and I never told anyone. Because of that I’m to blame.”

  I hold my breath, scared to breathe. Scared if I do then all the hurt, all the pain is going to come tumbling out and then I’ll be broken. So broken. The unfixable kind, the devastating kind. But Jesse’s head falls and his shoulders roll forward. He covers his face with his hands and his body shakes.

  Jesse.

  Carefree Jesse, strong Jesse, rebellious Jesse, Peter Pan in the flesh … is in pain.

  I think of Jesse’s pirate smile. The one he gave me as a child the first time he tapped on my window and offered me freedom. I think of the way he’d hold my hand as we crossed the field at night and I was still scared of the dark. I think of the way he’d offer his hand when jumping from branch to branch, the way he’d hold his breath when I would go a little too high. I think of long nights of laughter, of summer days of comforting silence. I think of Jesse. A bright soul, a candle in my ever-present darkness, and I see tears rolling down his cheeks.

  For years he was my rock, and now I need to be his. I dash across the hall and pour myself into him, wrapping myself around Jesse in an effort to keep his pieces from falling to the ground and shattering. To keep me from going insane.

  “We’re going to be okay,” I whisper to him. “I promise we’re going to be okay.”

  Jesse holds on to me, his head buried into my shoulder, and I hold on to him. Both of us seeking comfort and holding the other up.

  JESSE

  I’m slumped in the chair outside of Pastor Hughes’s office, and it’s a lot like being in lockup: nerve-wracking and never-ending. Scarlett’s in there with the police. Pastor Hughes is in there for support. My uncle Marshall is in there as legal counsel for Scarlett. It’s hard to believe I used to hate that man with a passion reserved for Satan. Now, I have no idea how I’m going to repay him for all he’s done to protect me and to protect the girl I love.

  The door to the office opens, and I straighten as Pastor Hughes walks out then closes the door behind him. “They aren’t done yet, but they’re wrapping up.”

  “How’s it going? Is Scarlett okay?”

  He takes the seat next to me and folds his hands over his stomach. “It’s going as well as these things can go. I can tell they believe her. It helps that your uncle is in there to help guide the questioning and the answering. He’s a good man, and I wish everyone who is a victim had someone like him on their side when reporting a crime. It would make life incredibly easier for so many who are victimized again when telling their story.”

  “What will happen now?”

  He releases a long breath that doesn’t give me hope. “They’ll investigate her claims and contact Child Protective Services. A caseworker will be assigned to the family. Odds are, since the children have never been abused before tonight, Isabelle will be returned to the family, but there will be state supervision.”

  Anger wells up inside me, and I bang the back of my head against the wall. “So nothing changes?”

  Pastor Hughes stretches out his legs as if he’s stiff and sore. “I can see how you’d think that, but that’s not what I said.”

  “The government can’t force Scarlett’s dad to change.”

  “No, they can’t. As a man of God, I have hope he will decide to change. And I’m hopeful that involving the police will be the wake-up call Scarlett’s mother needs. She needs to come to terms with the reality of her situation, and she needs to start doing what is in the best interest of her daughters.”

  “And if she doesn’t?”

  “Then there are plenty of people in a position of authority watching.”

  “That sounds like a whole lot of nothing.”

  “The system isn’t perfect, Jesse, but this family has a better shot with the truth being out in the open than it staying a secret.”

  “What’s going to happen to Scarlett?” I ask.

  “That depends on Scarlett. She’ll be eighteen soon so her options are wider, but I’m going to let your uncle talk to her about that. To be honest, right now I’m more interested in what’s going to happen to you.”

  Tension sets into my neck, and I roll it to help. “Marshall believes the charges will be dropped.”

  “That’s good news, but that’s not what I’m referring to. You can get mad at me for eavesdropping later, but I heard what you said to Scarlett in the hallway. I’m more curious of when you’re going to take the advice you gave Scarlett and realize you aren’t to blame for your mother’s death or for anyone else’s unhappiness. Because that’s a terrible curse to carry, and it will taint every decision you make going forward.”

  I close my eyes because I don’t want to face this—

  “The better question I have for you is when will you allow yourself the room to figure out who you are out of the shadow of your mother’s death? You’ve defined yourself by your guilt and have made that land your security blanket. Wouldn’t it be freeing to rid yourself of that guilt and to throw off the security blanket and discover who you were meant to be?”

  “That’s not what the land is.” My voice is rough and my throat tightens. “The land isn’t a security blanket. It’s more.”

  “I agree. The land could be more, but your family has made it a living shrine to your sins. Sins that don’t even belong to you yet you take on the burden of blame. I’ve heard for years about the Lachlin curse, and if I had to guess, I’d say that’s the curse—the belief that you’re always to blame for other people’s choices.”

  His words are like a hot sword through my stomach, and I’m saved from answering when the door to his office opens. Scarlett emerges. Her e
yes are red and puffy, and she strangles a crumpled tissue in her hand. She takes one look at me, and I’m completely undone. I stand, gather her in my arms and hold the girl I love as she cries.

  * * *

  I’m going to owe Marshall a limb and/or an organ at the end of all this. After the police left, he had his wife pick up Isabelle, while Marshall and I took Scarlett to the hospital.

  After the speech her father made at Marshall’s house, my uncle wants to discredit any claim her father would have against her. Marshall had blood drawn to test for drugs and alcohol. He then had a nurse photograph the bruise on her wrist where her father grabbed her and the faint bruise on Scarlett’s back from when she fell against the wall.

  “What do people who have been abused do when they don’t have lawyers?” Scarlett asked at one point, echoing my own earlier thoughts.

  “Sometimes the system fails them,” Marshall said. It wasn’t the answer either Scarlett or I wanted to hear, but it was honest.

  After the hospital, I retrieved my truck from the impound lot and said goodbye to Scarlett with a long kiss and hug. She’s going to stay with Isabelle at Marshall’s, and I thought that was a brilliant idea. If only she could stay there forever.

  For myself, it’s time to head home. Marshall told me to behave, which was a warning to avoid any conversation or confrontation with Scarlett’s father. I promised to be on my best behavior. I’m not going to do a thing to ruin what my uncle has put in place to protect Scarlett.

  As I pull onto the road that leads to my home, I pass three police cars. There’s a grim sense of satisfaction that the bastard was placed in the hot seat for what he’s done. Odds are Scarlett’s father won’t be punished how he should be, but at least he didn’t win today.

  Scarlett’s house is lit up like airport runway lights. Every room in the house brightened even though there’s only two people home.

  I park in my driveway, turn off the engine and stare at my grandmother’s trailer, at my home. The place looks dark, it looks empty, and the good pastor’s words weave in and out of every thought and emotion. Mostly I keep tripping over the same thing: Have I let guilt guide my choices, and if so, who am I without the guilt? Better question, who am I without the land?

  Movement toward the side of the trailer, like a flash of a moonbeam. I exit the truck and follow the light. I’m surprised when I spot Glory sitting on the swings in one of her shimmery, long skirts.

  “How long were you watching me?” I ask.

  Glory tilts her head in her patented faraway expression. “I have never stopped watching you. I’ve been doing it for so long I couldn’t stop if I tried.”

  Not what I mean. “Do you have any idea what Scarlett and I have gone through? If you were really psychic, you would have warned us.”

  Glory leans back, raises her feet and swings. “Being psychic doesn’t mean I know everything. It means I connect people with the universe for a brief few minutes so they can take a look at themselves and their choices.”

  “So you’re saying you didn’t know what was going to happen to us?”

  She’s quiet as she skims her toes on the ground to stop moving. “You and Scarlett have been hurtling toward the cliff that was last night for years. It had to happen.”

  A flash of anger. “Why? Scarlett’s in pain.” I’m in pain.

  “Pain is what makes you grow, it’s what makes you mature, it’s what helps lead you to the path you are meant to be on. If everything is good all the time, there would never be change.”

  “What if I don’t want change?”

  “If it weren’t for change, then you would have never fallen in love with Scarlett, and is that something you could say you didn’t want?”

  I wanted it, she knows this, and I drop onto the swing beside her. “Did you knowingly lie to me about Scarlett being one of the votes?”

  “Yes.”

  Her honesty causes me to flinch. “Then you cost me my land.”

  “Did I? Because Scarlett’s father paid me a visit today searching for her. He read me the riot act for giving his daughter a job. Once he blew himself out like a child’s balloon, he let me know that if you convinced Scarlett to go home and to stop whatever it is that she’s planning that he’d vote for you to keep your land.”

  “He’s one vote. I need two.”

  “The pastor turned in his ballot in favor of you keeping the land the day he learned of the tribunal. He said the scenario was ridiculous, and that the decision shouldn’t be up to him as to what happens to the land, but should be for you to decide.”

  “You’re telling me the pastor lied, too? Because he made it sound like he hadn’t made up his mind.”

  “Pastor Hughes wanted to bring peace to your soul and to the souls of Suzanne and Marshall. In his own way, he was trying to heal your family. Did he lie? I guess, but I don’t think he’s going to hell over it, do you?”

  My head lowers as I think of the day he visited me on the farm. I had told him that Scarlett was the other person on the tribunal, and he probably knew I was wrong. Is that why he had brought up Scarlett and her father? Was it his way of warning me that I was wrong … or maybe that Scarlett was in danger?

  I’m so mixed up right now my gut twists. “Why did you lie about Scarlett being on the tribunal?”

  “Because of this exact moment. If you want your land, you can have it. You hold more influence over Scarlett than anyone else in this world. She’s terrified, she’s scared, she’s confused and she could be easily swayed. If you told her to go home and give her father another chance, she might. If that didn’t work, if you turned her away and shut her out like you did your freshman year, she might break and go running home.”

  “Scarlett won’t budge. She’s strong, she’s solid and she can stand strong without me.”

  “You’re right, but what I’m saying is, if you want your land you could possibly have it, but then you have to break Scarlett’s heart.”

  I love my land, but … “I could never do that to Scarlett. I love her.” It’s true, but that doesn’t stop the lashing pain. I’m losing my land. I’m losing a part of me. I literally feel as if I’m being torn in half. “I don’t know who I am without this land.”

  Glory places her hand under my chin and forces me to look at her. “You’re someone who is capable of love and letting someone truly love you in return, and that, Jesse, is what your grandmother wanted you to learn.”

  At the mention of my gran, my eyes burn. “Is love always going to hurt?”

  “Sometimes, but it’s also going to be as glorious as when you hold Scarlett in your arms, and you have to admit that feeling is worth walking through hell. I don’t regret what I did to bring you and Scarlett together. You needed each other.”

  Glory is right. Scarlett is worth standing in an inferno for.

  Sitting on this swing, I look over to the wooden picnic table that hasn’t been used in years. Glory is the one who sees spirits, but I’m the one who sees ghosts—memories of my mom and Gran sitting with me at the table, eating dinner, and laughing with me.

  I remember how my mom would make huge bubbles with me out of detergent. How she would smile when I would bring her frogs from the creek. I remember how she had the most beautiful singing voice, and how on dark nights, she would lie with me in bed and sing until I fell asleep.

  “I miss my mom.” My voice comes out rough. “I miss Gran, too.”

  Glory’s mouth trembles as she tries to smile yet fails. “Me, too. If it helps, they miss us, as well. And your gran just told me to tell you to shut up and give me a hug.”

  “You’re such a fake.” Yet I have to wipe at the wetness in my eyes. She bumps my knee with hers. I bump it back to let her know we’re good.

  “Can I give you two more pieces of advice from the universe?” she asks.

  “Sure.”

  “Be careful with Scarlett. The next few months to a year are going to be very trying for her, especially as she attempts to build her i
dentity away from her father and mother.”

  “Away?” I’m hopeful this means Scarlett will find a better path than being forced home.

  “The point I’m making is don’t fall into a trap. There’s a lot to be learned with what happened to your mother.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means that whether you like it or not, this earth is the ultimate preschool. We’re here to learn, not just one lesson, but multiple ones. Before you ask, I’m not going to tell you what the two of you will be facing because that would be cheating.”

  Fantastic. “What’s your second piece of advice?”

  “You know the connection you have with the land? How it breathes for you?”

  And for Scarlett. “Yeah?”

  “It’s not the land that’s special, that’s you. You could go anywhere in the world, and the earth will breathe for you. You have to allow it the opportunity.” With that, Glory stands, kisses my forehead the way mothers do and then she fades into the darkness.

  SCARLETT

  Emancipation.

  It’s a big word with an even bigger meaning. My mom stands in her kitchen and stares at me as if I had just taken the butcher knife and shoved it into my stomach. “What do you mean you want to be emancipated?”

  It’s a surreal feeling. On the counter is a plate of hot chocolate chip cookies, a bouquet of balloons and two letters of acceptance into colleges along with partial scholarship declarations. One from the college in town. The other from the University of Kentucky. My mother opened both of them before I arrived home from school.

  I’m not angry Mom opened my mail. I didn’t expect anything less. To be honest, I have such low expectations for my parents when it comes to respecting me that there isn’t much that shocks me anymore.

  “I’m filing in court for emancipation,” I repeat. “My lawyer is handling it today.”

  It’s the end of November, nearing the holiday break, and probably not the best timing, but I can’t live like this anymore. Mom and Dad have made their choices, and I’m making mine.