by Leanna Sain
“Right!” He looked around before lowering his voice. “I overheard a couple of guys say this is the place to be. I saw someone earlier who might’ve been one of Spencer’s guys. He was being unobtrusive, but I’m pretty sure he was watching me. Hey, where’s Cleo?”
“She was still in the bed when I left. According to Minnie, the poor thing’s had some trouble sleeping lately.” I gave him a stern look, cocking an eyebrow. “I wonder why that is?”
“Now, wait just a minute! You helped me with the disguise. I thought you were on my side.”
“I was, until you told me you thought one of Spencer’s men had his eye on you. I’m afraid for you, Jonas. Cleo would never forgive me if something happened to you. She already blames me for encouraging you with this crazy plan of yours.”
“I’ll tell you the same thing I told her. Nothing’s going to happen to me. I’m not some desperate homeless pers—” He winced. “Sorry, no offense.”
I chuckled. “None taken.”
“Anyway, I’m not desperate, and I am going into this thing with my eyes wide open. I promise to always stay one step ahead of them. Okay?”
I nodded slowly, reluctantly. “I’m counting on it, but more importantly…Cleo is counting on it. And young man…?”
He snapped to attention at my tone. “Yes, ma’am?”
“You better not be toying with that child!”
His grin stretched from ear to ear. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”
“Stop it!” I growled, trying to keep the corners of my mouth turned down, but failing. “Remember what Cleo said about that smile.”
Though his face was an immediate mask of somberness, traces of humor and a bit of devilment sparkled in his eyes as he gave me a nod. “Yes, ma’am!” Then he turned and sauntered away.
As I watched him until I lost him in the crowd, an uneasy feeling settled in the pit of my stomach.
****
“There you are!” I cried when I spotted Rose’s fiery red hair in the middle of a group of tourists that had just gotten off one of the river taxis. “I’ve been looking all over for you.”
Rose’s expression cooled as soon as she saw me. My heart sank. My sister was still mad at me for not taking her advice about Cleo. That was going to make this conversation even tougher.
“What do you want?” Rose spoke ventriloquist-style, behind a brilliant smile she was flashing at the gorgeous hunk waving at her from a passing boat. She fluttered her fingers in response, trying to look like she wasn’t connected in any way with a crazy old woman wearing a flamboyant court jester hat.
I was used to it. It was the way she always treated me. Then I stopped, stunned at that sudden realization. I replayed the scene in my mind, focusing on the fact that my sister had tried to pretend she didn’t know me. Similar memories flashed through my mind. Scene after scene, time after time. Others followed…more painful ones, this time: Rose laughing when I failed at something, Rose belittling me—both publically and privately, Rose discouraging any attempt at anything new, demanding all my attention and pouting when she didn’t think she got it.
I’d spent my entire life idolizing Rose, putting her on a pedestal, giving her the devotion she thrived on, squashing my own wants in order to give in to my sister. How could I have been so blind? How could I have missed seeing how utterly self-absorbed and egocentric she really was?
Had it always been this bad?
I thought back to my early childhood: favorite dolls and toys that somehow ended up in Rose’s room; the shows on television…always Rose’s choice; Rose was afraid of clowns and hated the circus, so we’d never gone; my favorite outfit that had gotten ruined with bleach when Rose had helped with the laundry.
My thoughts ranged forward a few years, seeing it through new eyes, observing a pattern that I’d never noticed before. I’d never been allowed to wear anything royal blue even though I loved the color, and everyone thought it looked good on me…everyone, but Rose. My big sister had told me that blue didn’t suit me, so I hadn’t worn blue; hairstyles that Rose recommended always turned out disastrous; the perm Rose had once given me that burned my hair so badly, I’d had to get a pixie cut to get rid of the damage.
I looked down at my clothes; the mismatched patterns, the scuffed boots. Rose had encouraged my transformation into a crazy, homeless woman, too. I shook my head in amazement, having a hard time absorbing this new insight. My sister had been sabotaging me for years, always trying to make me look bad.
I reached up and pulled off my hat, stuffing it into my pocket, then straightened my spine, and drew back my shoulders. It was time for the abuse and ridicule to stop. It was time for the truth.
“There was never an affair, was there?”
My words grabbed her full attention. Her million-dollar smile faded like it was on a dimmer switch.
“I’m sorry, what?”
My lips felt stiff. The words had to be pushed from my mouth. “Michael…all those years ago. There was never an affair.”
She blinked as if I’d flicked water in her eyes. Then a whole range of emotions travelled across her face. It was like looking through one of those old Viewmaster toys, pushing down the little plastic handle to see the next scene: shock… anger… denial… cunning…
Finally, her acting skills kicked in and she pasted her smile back on. “Of course, he had an affair, Lily. Why else would you break things off?” The line was delivered flawlessly…except for the way her voice cracked on the word, “off.”
But before I could say anything, she blurted, “I found out why that girl’s aunt hated her so much.”
The abrupt change of subject was unexpected, and struck me speechless.
She took advantage of it. “Apparently Julie Davenport—that’s the girl’s mother—was a bit of a handful and got herself barred from the private school Patricia had pulled strings to get her into, so Patricia hired a live-in tutor—a Mr. Jake Davis—and the problem appeared to be solved. Julie excelled under his tutelage, and everything seemed fine for a time.” Rose paused to make sure I was paying attention, then nodded. “Now, here’s where it gets good…
“…As time went on, ol’ Patricia ended up developing soft feelings for Jake, even though she was several years older than he was. She kept her feelings to herself, thinking it would be unseemly to entertain such ideas. After all, the man was living under her roof, in her employ. She refused to give her acquaintances food for gossip, so she held her peace, opting to wait until Julie graduated and wouldn’t need him as a teacher anymore, before revealing her true feelings. She’d already introduced her niece to the respectable young man whom she expected Julie marry, a man with good connections and fine parentage…a good match, as far as she was concerned. She was biding her time, but Julie had other ideas…”
Rose glanced at me and raised her eyebrows. “Ready?”
“Oh, just tell me and stop being so dramatic!”
You’d have thought I stuck her with a pin the way she flinched. My outburst was definitely not my usual reaction to her theatrics, and it threw her off. It took her a couple of seconds to recover.
“Okay, well…um…this is the part that frosted Patricia’s—um…I mean…what made her so angry that she took it out on Cleo. Unknown to her aunt, Julie had fallen for Jake, and it was more than just a crush. Even though he was almost ten years her senior, and he tried to discourage such feelings, soon he was as smitten with her as she was with him. The night after she’d officially graduated, they eloped, left Savannah, moved to the mountains of North Carolina, and about nine months later—some say less—Cleo was born.” She arched her eyebrow suggestively, waiting for some kind of response.
I knew what she wanted, and I was determined not to give it to her. It took conscious effort, but I kept my expression cool and detached; looking completely unfazed by her innuendo. The briefest of brief creases appeared between her brows for a split second. Nobody else would’ve even noticed it, but I did.
After a pau
se, she continued, but was now wearing a forced smile, “Patricia never got over it. After the accident that killed Julie and Jake, Cleo showed up on her aunt’s doorstep, the spitting image of her mother, only with her father’s remarkable eyes. It was more than Patricia could take. The resentment she’d felt at Julie’s betrayal, all the bitter feelings she’d kept bottled up inside, building for years, everything came gushing out the day the little Cleo arrived.”
When Rose finished, I was quiet for a long minute. If I allowed myself to think too deeply, my resolve would slip, so I steeled my spine. “Thank you for finding out for me, but if you think that changing the subject will make me forget about what you’ve done, you’re very much mistaken.”
I gave my sister a long, hard look, felt the sting of tears in spite of iron-fisting my emotions. “Goodbye, Rose,” I whispered.
Then I turned and limped away.
****
I’d taken no more than a half dozen steps, when someone grabbed my arm and spun me around. “There you are!” Cleo exclaimed. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere! No wonder I couldn’t find you…you aren’t wearing your hat.” She gave me an impulsive hug before demanding, “Are you okay?”
I nodded, my heavy heart already lightening a bit in the face of Cleo’s exuberance.
“Why didn’t you wake me up? I could’ve walked with you, done some more sketches.”
“A good laugh and a long sleep are the two best cures for anything.”
Cleo laughed. “Yay! I never thought I’d say this, but I’ve been missing your little sayings lately. What are you doing way up here?”
“I had to ask my sister something.”
Cleo’s eyes went wide, darting in every direction. “Rose? Rose is here?”
I stared over Cleo’s shoulder. Rose was still standing there, statue-like, in the same position, an unreadable expression on her face. “No, she’s not here,” I replied firmly, my eyes locked with my sister’s. Then I added, “Never make someone a priority, when you’re just their option.” At my words, Rose disappeared.
“Uh…okay,” Cleo replied, a confused look on her face. I was sure she was trying to figure out what relevance my comment had to the situation, but then she shrugged and asked, “Where are you going now?”
“Back to your house to check on Raymond, and to find a band-aid.”
“Band-aid? Are you hurt?”
“Just a blister.”
“Oh, wait! I think I have one in my backpack. Let me look.” She unzipped a couple of pockets, scrambled a few seconds and then exclaimed, “Voilà! Success! Here you go.”
I limped to a nearby step and sat down, unlacing my boot. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”
“Better?” Cleo asked brightly, once I had retied my bootlace.
I groaned with relief. “Much! But I still need to check on Raymond.”
“Okay, but can I draw while we walk?”
“Life is about using the whole box of crayons.”
Cleo’s giggle made me smile.
Chapter Eighteen
Cleo
“You saw Jonas?” My voice sort of squeaked his name. “Why didn’t you say something? Where? How’d he look? Any bad-guy contact yet? Is he doing okay? How long—”
“Whoa! One question at a time!” Lily held up her hand, interrupting me. “I thought you wanted to sketch on the walk home. So, start sketching!”
“Okay, okay, but give me all the details, while I do.”
Before she could answer, a pimped-out, poison green Cadillac with sparkling chrome spinners on its wheels, and windows tinted so black I wondered if the driver could even see through them, rumbled around the corner toward us. The bass was turned up loud enough to make the ground tremble and my teeth vibrate.
“Jeez!” I complained. “And their windows are rolled up! Imagine how it sounds inside that car!”
“Rap is to music what etch-a-sketch is to art.” Lily shouted to be heard.
I burst out laughing and yelled back, “I’ll have to remember to tell that one to Professor Hudson. He absolutely abhors rap.”
“Oh, yeah? Well, here’s another one for him, then. You know what rap is?”
The car paused at a stop sign, then crept forward. It was as if the driver knew he was annoying us and was trying to drag it out as long as he could.
I shook my head and screamed, “You mean, besides being an insult to music?”
“R-A-P,” she spelled loudly. “Retards Attempting Poetry!”
I giggled, quickly scrawling both sayings on my sketchpad so I wouldn’t forget them. The car finally moved out of earshot, making the street seem extra quiet in comparison. “Now, you were talking about Jonas…?”
“He’s fine. He looks like a homeless person. He thinks one of Spencer’s men was watching him. He asked about you.” She counted off on her fingers.
My heart had screeched to a stop at the mention of Mark Spencer’s goon, only to jolt back into action upon hearing her final point. My fingers went numb. I didn’t even notice that I’d dropped my pencil. It rolled to the edge of the sidewalk, and Lily bent to pick it up.
“Cleo? Yoo hoo…” She waved it in front of my face, then snapped her fingers. “Earth to Cleo. Come in, Cleo. Houston…we have a problem.”
I shook my head, clearing the stars away and gave her a beatific smile. “He asked about me? He really asked about me?”
Lily rolled her eyes and handed my pencil back to me. “The human brain is the most amazing organ. It works twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, from birth until the moment you fall in love.”
I ignored her, hugging my sketchpad to my chest, still wearing a thousand kilowatt smile, and dreamed of Jonas a couple more seconds, before sighing. “So what did he say…exactly?”
She chuckled. “He said—and I quote—“where’s Cleo?””
I felt like she’d punched me in the stomach. “Is that all?” I pouted.
Her gray eyes gleamed mischievously. “That’s all I’m saying for now.”
“There was more!”
Lily kept her face deadpan. “Life is between the trapeze bars.”
“Ugh! You’re killing me, Lily! I can’t believe I said I missed hearing those quotes.” I reluctantly turned my attention to the pad I held. “Fine!” I groused. “I need you to put your hat back on so I can get a few more sketches, and I wish we had your cart.”
****
I called Minnie to check on Raymond. She’d just taken him some lunch and he was napping again. Since we didn’t have to hurry, we decided to rest for a few minutes at one of the little tables on the sidewalk in front of the Mellow Mushroom. Well, Lily was resting; thoroughly enjoying a glass of sweet tea, from the looks of it. My glass was pushed to the side, untouched and getting watery, while I drew like a maniac. It was a close-up of her face.
Suddenly she gasped, “Oh, no!”
I was instantly alert, searching around in a panic. “What?”
“Don’t turn around,” she murmured in a deceptively calm manner through lips that barely moved. “Be as inconspicuous as possible. Mark Spencer is just inside the restaurant.”
I tried to keep my eyes from bulging and my heart from galloping out of my chest. Casually picking up my glass of tea, I took a sip, using the process as a chance to turn my head and peer through the window, without looking obvious. And there he was.
He definitely looked better in his airbrushed campaign posters or heavily made up on TV. In real life, he couldn’t hide the bags under his eyes that made him look permanently hung over. His hair usually had that carefully manicured, but very hard-hattish look, a sure indication that it’d been hair sprayed and gelled to within an inch of its life, but right now it appeared shaggy and unkempt, and his stretchy golf shirt couldn’t hide the paunch that a sports jacket usually covered up. Seeing him now and remembering the end he’d intended for Raymond, was enough to make me sick to my stomach.
Then I saw who was with him.
“E
llie,” I whispered, numbly. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” I started throwing my gear into my backpack. “Lily, we need to leave…now!” Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Mark and Ellie moving toward the door. I did not want her to see me. She couldn’t see me…no, no, no!
“Well, well…look who it is!” The familiar voice sang out behind me.
I squeezed my eyes shut and ground my teeth together. Too late! I glanced toward Lily’s chair and wasn’t even surprised to discover it empty. She was an expert at her disappearing act. Taking a deep breath and pasting on a smile, I turned to face my enemy. Thank goodness Jonas wasn’t here.
“Ellie! What a surprise!”
Her jaw tightened, and she struggled not to correct me. “Yes, isn’t it?” She trilled, linking her arm through Mark’s, leaning into him while giving me a “drop dead” look. She was barely wearing a little black dress—emphasis on little—and on a side note…wasn’t lunchtime a bit early for that kind of attire? It sure didn’t leave a lot to the imagination, no matter what time of day it was. “I’m sure you recognize Mark…or you probably know him by the title Commissioner Spencer. Mark…meet Cleo Davis. Her great-aunt was the late Patricia Davenport. You remember her, right? She owned the Brantley house, faces Forsyth Park? Now our little Cleo owns it.” Ellie wrinkled her nose, smiling in a cutesy, pouting sort of way.
I clenched my teeth tighter and smiled. I hoped it didn’t look as sickly as it felt. I reached out to grasp the hand Mark held out, wishing I had some hand sanitizer with me.
“Glad to meet you,” he boomed, ever the politician, giving my hand a brisk shake. “Knew your aunt well. Quite a lady. Pillar of Savannah society.”
It took some effort, but I kept from rolling my eyes. He knew Aunt Patricia “well,” according to him. Why didn’t that surprise me? I forced my mouth to say the expected words. “Nice to meet you, Commissioner Spencer.”
Saying it, almost made me gag.
“Oh, please, call me Mark,” he replied a little too jovial for my taste. “Any friend of Elle’s is a friend of mine.”