Next Day Gone

by J C Wing

  “Of Steele and Sons?” she asked, referring to the company that had been started up in the 1890’s by a man who went from getting his first patent in bricklaying to building a global empire by manufacturing heavy machinery used by nearly every construction company in existence. “I’m guessing you’re probably a great grandson.”

  Jordan gave her a smile, and Anna was both surprised and annoyed by the fact that she felt a flutter in her tummy when she saw it. He was a handsome man, and she could pick out the similarities between the siblings as she watched him. His hair wasn’t nearly as dark as is sister’s, but his eyes were the same shape and color.

  “Yes, ma’am,” he agreed, gently squeezing her hand before pulling away. “Like I said,” he told her, glancing over at Penelope. “This is my sister. She’s having a spot of trouble right now.” He cleared his throat and Anna watched as Penelope blushed ever so slightly. Her son was now sleeping, and she rocked him just as every female ever put on the Earth did when a baby was placed in their arms.

  “That looks like more than a spot if you ask me.” She saw Penelope swallow, and her head tilted down a bit further.

  “Listen,” Jordan said as the older child in the car rolled his window down and continued to look up at Anna. “I need to get Penny and the kids settled some place safe. May I meet you later this evening for dinner so I can take care of this situation?” He glanced down at the bumper on both cars. “The damage is minimal, but the least I can do is cover whatever cost there might be to fix your car.”

  Anna purposefully turned from Jordan and walked around the car to Penelope. She studied the woman, taking in the black eye and the scrape on her cheek Anna hadn’t been able to see clearly from a distance. She reached into her purse and pulled out a business card and a pen. After scribbling her home number on the back, she handed the card to Penelope.

  “I know you have a whole battalion of high-priced attorneys at your beck and call. Use them,” she advised. She reached over and squeezed Penelope’s lower arm and held her eyes. “If you ever need to talk, woman to woman, you pick up the phone, ya hear?”

  Penelope looked like she was about to cry. “You’re very kind,” she said, “But who are you?”

  Anna smiled. “I’ve gone and forgotten my manners,” she said. “My name is Anna Riley,” she told her. “My name isn’t nearly as prominent as yours is, but they know it here in Asheville.”

  “Is it true?” Penelope asked, the tone of her voice skeptical. “Did someone really tell you a story about a baseball?”

  Anna tossed the pen back in her purse and closed it. “Yes, ma’am. I’m a lawyer myself, and you wouldn’t believe some of the things I hear.” Her face softened. “Take care of yourself and these little ones,” she told her. “Oh, and tell your brother here to use that number I gave you to let me know what time he’s picking me up for dinner tonight.”

  THE RILEY GIRLS

  Anna watched as Drew and Paige got into the blue Mustang and remembered climbing into Jordan’s sleek Cadillac and going to dinner with him that night so many years ago.

  There were only three people that knew what had taken place, what had gotten started in that parking lot. Anna had read about whirlwind romances, about how women had been swept off their feet, fallen head over heels in love—or lust—but she’d always been too sensible for that sort of thing. The six weeks that followed that ride in Jordan’s Cadillac were filled with clandestine meetings where there was little discussion and a lot of love making. They burned hot and bright for those forty-nine days. Anna, as unsentimental as she was, didn’t even hate herself for remembering the exact number. The two of them were like a gasoline fire; flames shooting high and scorching into a sky of deep black, raging and roaring and blinding each of them until they couldn’t see anything but each other.

  But Jordan Steele had a wife back in Statesville, which was close enough that he could carve out an hour to spend with Anna without being missed … and not nearly far enough to soothe his guilt on the short ride back home.

  When he ended it, Anna wasn’t surprised, nor was she upset. Especially when her period was late, and a blood test confirmed that she was pregnant. She’d never liked fires anyway. Eventually they all burned out leaving nothing but smoke and ash, and all that fairytale romance wasn’t for someone as practical as Anna.

  She’d called Jordan at the office, pretending to be the secretary for another company Steele and Sons did business with, and when he came on the line, she matter-of-factly informed him she was expecting. She made it clear that the only thing she was expecting was a baby. His response was to pull a large sum of cash from the bank which Penelope delivered to Anna during one of their weekly visits to the Southern Charm Tea House in downtown Asheville.

  When Anna gave birth to a girl the following spring, she could almost feel her mama’s old bones settling where she rested in Riverside Cemetery. The Riley House had an heir.

  Paige pushed her arm out the window and gave her grandmother a wave as Drew drove them down the long drive. Anna smiled. Paige was a lot younger now than she had been during her brief romantic fling. Anna was sure that the attachment her granddaughter felt toward Drew Larsen was very different than the one she’d had for Jordan. As alike as the two Riley women were, there were some very distinct differences as well. Paige was a fairytale believing romantic who loved to feel the heat of a fire on her skin. Anna wasn’t too worried about that. Everything in her cynical, unromantic heart told her that Drew was capable of being the Prince Charming Paige was looking for. He was one of the good guys.

  “Actually,” Anna said with a chuckle as the Mustang turned out of the drive and disappeared around the corner. “The house has three heirs.” She looked down at the bellflowers she still held, then moved to the back gate. She nudged it open with her hip and slipped inside the tree covered yard. She plopped herself down on one of her mother’s favorite benches and leaned over to replant the deep purple flowers in an upraised bed. “I did more than one-up you, old woman. How do you feel about that?”

  Drew watched while Paige filled her mouth with vanilla ice cream and hot fudge. Cool air poured through the vents of the Sweet Escape Ice Cream Parlor, and Drew could see goosebumps on the tops of Paige’s tanned and shapely shoulders. She smiled at him around the huge bite and he couldn’t help but smile back.

  Paige didn’t look much like her grandmother, except for her eyes which were a deep, dark blue. She looked more like her mom, Norah, who also had blonde hair and a wide smile. They were all Riley’s, though; tough, sweet, intelligent and determined. They could also eat. A lot.

  “Did you get your schedule in the mail?” Drew sucked a mouthful of his chocolate shake into his mouth as he watched her.

  “I did. Yesterday.”

  The pair was about to embark on their junior year at Winston. They’d both been students there since seventh grade but had only met one another at the Winter Wonderland dance their freshman year. Paige’s date, Lucas, had been caught with an open pint of vodka in his jacket, and when the headmaster caught him and was rounding up all the other suspects, Paige nonchalantly took the hand of the boy standing the closest to her and pulled him onto the dance floor. “Hi,” she’d said, her mouth near Drew’s ear. “I’m Paige. I make kickass brownies, and if you pretend you know me, I’ll bake you a batch.”

  Drew already knew he had a fondness for baked goods, and he’d always been interested in pretty blonde girls. When Ed Sheeran started singing about people falling in love with just a touch of a hand and Paige didn’t pull out of his arms, he realized this particular blonde girl smelled sweet, like vanilla, and having her next to him with her left hand on his shoulder, her right hand in his felt both exhilarating and like the most natural thing in the world.

  “You like chocolate chips?” she asked him.

  “Are there people on this planet that don’t?”

  She smiled, and he saw that her eyes were a dark, clear blue, and he decided right then and there that
Lucas Abernathy didn’t deserve a girl like Paige … whatever her last name was.

  Winston was a boarding school, and although there were a percentage of kids who only attended the school during the day, both Paige and Drew lived on campus. It was a Riley family tradition. It was one of the best schools in the state, and there had been many generations of Riley’s that had graduated and gone on to higher learning from Winston. Old Mrs. Riley, Anna, Norah, Paige, and eventually Abigail, too. It was just what the Riley’s did.

  Drew, on the other hand, was the first Larsen to attend the school. Corinne liked the clout Winston carried. Drew was a good kid, and she wanted him to stay that way. She wanted him to be safe. She wanted him to have the opportunity to be involved in athletics and the arts. She didn’t want what happened to Willow to happen to Drew.

  There were almost three hundred students enrolled in the school, and many of them came from all over the United States. Winston had been founded in 1900 and boasted a rigorous college preparatory program. The campus was made up of 300 acres of land overlooking the Blue Ridge Mountains and sitting on that property were ten buildings which consisted of classrooms, residential halls and housing for faculty and staff.

  “What classes did you get?”

  Paige licked hot fudge from her bottom lip, and when she went to wipe a napkin over what was left, Drew saw the gold locket she wore on a chain around her wrist catch a ray of sunshine that slanted in between the blinds covering the windows of the ice cream shop.

  “Let’s see,” she said. “European literature, physics, anatomy and physiology … oh, and pre-calc.”

  “French?”

  “Oh, yeah,” she nodded, “that, too. Ms. Burgess wants me to join chorus. I told her I was too busy. I’d rather play sports than sing.”

  “Why would she ask you to join chorus?” Drew asked. “Has she heard you sing?”

  Paige caught Drew’s grin and matched it. “Apparently not,” she confessed, “but we’re dealing with a bunch of brainiacs over there, obviously. I mean, what were they thinking, putting you in a studio art class?” She nudged him with her foot beneath the table. “Have they seen you draw?”

  “Touché, Barlow,” Drew responded. “I don’t actually know what the hell happened with that,” he admitted.

  “Your grandmother, most likely.”

  Drew studied the lines of Paige’s face. Corinne wanted him to be everything his mother had not been. Paige reached over and took his hand. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

  Drew shook his head. “You’re just being honest.” Paige was equal parts sweet and tactless. While most people loved her, there were also those who bristled against her harsh truthfulness. Drew wasn’t one of those people.

  “When all the kids are producing stunning works of art with their paint and photography and ceramics and I come up with stick figures in pencil, she’ll figure out what everyone else has known forever. I’m not artistic.”

  “Eh,” Paige shrugged. “Depends on your definition of artistic. Watching you rock climb is pretty amazing, the way you move and pull yourself up the face of a mountain. What about the way you slice through the water in a kayak; everything so quiet, the lake so still, like a mirror and you gliding across the surface.” Her sigh was barely audible, but Drew caught it. “So many of your skills are physical and very artistic in their own ways.”

  Drew squeezed Paige’s fingers again. He wasn’t in the mood to be serious. “We probably shouldn’t talk too much about my physical skills around G-Ma.”

  Paige’s face lit up in a huge grin and she laughed. “That’s not what I was talking about and you know it,” she said, “but you’re probably right.”

  “Besides, being able to rock climb or kayak won’t get me into a prestigious university.”

  “No, but neither will paint and charcoal.” Drew felt his mother’s locket brush over the top of his hand as Paige reached up to touch his face with his fingers. “Don’t stress the art class. I’ve got something to take your mind off all that.”

  Drew raised an eyebrow. “What’s that?”

  “Varsity practice starts on Monday.”

  Paige was an athlete. She played and excelled in many sports, specifically field hockey, basketball and lacrosse.

  “That means I get to see you in those goofy goggles again.”

  Paige smiled. “Yes, sir. Goofy goggles for the win.”

  “Did your mom play hockey when she went to Winston?”

  “Nope. Basketball.”

  “What about Grananna?”

  “Tennis.”

  “And old Mrs. Riley?”

  Paige pulled away and used her spoon to scoop up what remained in her sundae dish. “I don’t know much about my great grandmother,” she said eating the last bit of melted ice cream. “But from what I’ve heard, I’m guessing she got most of her exercise from kicking everyone’s ass.”

  ANNIVERSARY

  Year five was about to begin at Winston. Drew moved himself into his room in the Wallace Residence Hall, which consisted of a twin bed, a desk and one large window. He packed away the extra linens and blankets G-Ma had insisted he take, and filled the bookshelves his uncle Elias had helped him carry in with dog-eared paperbacks, comic books and his favorite action figures, all still in their original packaging, although they’d been moved and handled so many times that if he were to try to sell them, he doubted they’d be worth all that much.

  Since classes weren’t to start until the following Monday, and Paige was at field hockey practice, he decided to find Mr. Kennedy, hall parent for Wallace, and get a day pass from him. It was time to go visit his relatives.

  The angel at Willow’s grave looked like she was leaning her right hip and shoulder against her large headstone. Drew had lost his mom long before he could collect any memory of her. Corinne hadn’t wanted the statue built. She said it was macabre and put her on edge when she visited. Drew was happy the angel was there because she was tangible and solid. He could touch her and talk to her. She was the closest thing he’d ever get to the woman who had given birth to him.

  “Hi, Mom,” he said quietly as he approached the grave. He knelt, setting two dozen roses—one red and one white—and the large plastic pitcher that held them on the ground while he twisted and pulled out the heavy metal vase built into the base of Willow’s headstone. He transferred the white roses and some of the water into it then dusted the dirt away from the stone. He stood, facing the angel. She was life size and in profile.

  She wore a sleeveless gown, and her long hair had been pulled up and loosely bound above the nape of her neck, strands falling to frame her face and touch her shoulders. Flowers and vines threaded themselves into a wreath around her bowed head, and she held more of them in her left hand, the blooms resting against her left thigh. Her wings were as tall as she was, and they curved around her back, the tips swooping down to brush her calves on both sides. Her features were so lifelike, copied from a photograph and painstakingly carved.

  Drew knew that his grandfather, Alex, had gone against Corinne’s wishes and hired an artist to create this angel Willow. He’d always wanted to ask him about it, but he’d never gotten the chance. Dr. Alexander Larsen, prominent cardiologist, had died less than a year after his daughter was killed. He’d been only fifty-two years old when they laid him to rest. His death certificate said the cause of death was a heart attack. Those that knew him well say it was a broken heart that killed him.

  Drew was three or four inches taller than the angel. She didn’t move or greet him, but Drew heard chickadees as they sang to one another in the oak and poplar trees overhead. He didn’t remember what her voice sounded like, but it felt a little like his mother was happy to see him.

  The cemetery was full of large and ornate headstones, and Willow’s, as big as it was, didn’t stand out much from the rest.

  Drew reached up and ran his fingers along the engraved letters on her headstone.

  Willow Evangeline Larsen
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  1983 – 1999

  Beloved Daughter, Sister, Mother and Friend

  We Love You, Baby Girl

  He was now a year older than she had been when she died. He hadn’t known her, but he’d always missed her. Especially at this time of the year.

  “It’s been seventeen years today.”

  Drew startled when he heard Elias’s voice, but he didn’t turn. They hadn’t made plans to meet at the cemetery, but it was the anniversary of Willow’s death. It didn’t surprise him at all that his uncle had come to pay her a visit.

  “Yes, sir.” He let his hand fall away.

  “You here alone? Where’s that girlfriend of yours?”

  Drew moved his head and looked at his uncle. “Hockey practice. She comes with me a lot, just not today.”

  Elias gave him a single nod. His dark hair was flat around his head and Drew knew he’d been wearing a baseball cap all day long. It wasn’t respectful to wear a sports hat in a cemetery. Drew figured his mom probably wouldn’t care much, but his grandfather might.

  Elias moved up and touched his father’s ornately carved headstone.

  “I brought flowers for him, too,” Drew said.

  Elias was quiet as he knelt and prepared his father’s vase. When he looked up, he smiled at his nephew. “You’re a good kid, Drew. Your mom would’ve been proud of you.”

  This wasn’t the first time Drew had heard something like that, but this time the words made the backs of his eyes sting. He blinked quickly and handed the red roses to his uncle, then poured the rest of the water into the vase when Elias moved back.

  “Did he like red roses?”

  “Um,” Elias answered, “I guess I don’t know for sure.” He stood up and put his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. “I don’t think it matters much. I’m sure he loves anything you might bring to him.”