Matt stalked her, following her every move. She was bent and bruised and ready to fall down, but she stumbled left, stumbled left, forcing him to lead with the broken arm and wrong-footing him. Whatever happened, she had to stay out of his reach until she came up with something.
His confidence was back. He dropped his guard, walked casually after her, tracking her like it was a game. “You have never beaten me yet. I don’t know why you think you can now. Even with one arm, I’ll knock you right into the middle of next week,” he said and shrugged. He did a shoulder roll, and stood back to regard her. “Oh, come on, let’s see what you’ve really got.”
She tried skipping around him, bouncing on her toes but her knees gave out and she almost fell, so she moved to his left, drawing him in. He followed her, frowning in amusement and shaking his head like he couldn’t believe how dumb she could be. Every time he made a move, she jerked away and moved to his left. He turned, chuckled like it was a joke.
Holly was watching, her little hands clutched at her mouth, eyes wide. She made to move, but Kelsey yelled, “Get back. Go sit …” and Matt landed her a hook to the eye that sent her reeling backwards and sat her on her ass. Any minute that eye would close over—she could feel it. Her face already felt like she had two layers of hellfire laid across it. Her body was stiff, joints swelling. She was tired beyond anything she’d felt before. But she eased herself to her feet and fell into stance. Pain lanced through her limbs. She sucked in air and tried to bounce on her toes and almost fell.
“What the hell is that?” he said. “You done already? You’re pathetic. All this is your fault, you know.”
He threw a jab and she stumbled to the left. Again, he followed, muttering, “You just can’t do what you’re told, can you?” She stepped again and this time when he turned, she dropped her shoulder and charged, ramming her shoulder into him, driving him back. He staggered, shoved her away, laughing, so she put her head down and rushed him again. He pushed her off, looking down at her like she was ten kinds of stupid. She caught her breath, and when she charged him the third time, his left foot slipped off the edge. His eyes flew open and his left hand snatched at her. She felt his fingers slip across her wrist and he went over. There was a collective scream from the crowd below and the garbled voice of a cop yelling something through the bullhorn. When she dropped to her knees and leaned over Matt was right below, clinging to the scaffolding with one hand and dangling in midair with his feet kicking.
He looked up at her, eyes filled with terror. “Kelse, help me.”
This was the only man she’d ever loved. He had made mistakes but hell, who hadn’t? In times past she had looked deep into his eyes, into his soul, and she’d always known that somewhere inside, there was a good person. She reached down and grasped his hand. For the longest time, she knelt there, wondering what to do. Off in the distance the sound of the crowd and the cop on the bullhorn turned into white noise. She felt movement and Holly crouched next to her, looking over the edge. No expression, just staring.
“Stay back, baby,” she told her. “Go sit over by the stairs.”
“Kelse,” Matt was pleading. Tears and regret flooded his eyes. “Please. I’m so sorry. Help me.” She let her gaze range out across the crowds, across to the police, and off into the thunderclouds that were gathering in the distance. Any time now, it would rain.
Below, the silence was almost something tangible. Off to the right, she spotted a sniper crouched behind a car. To the left was another. She dropped to her belly and latched onto Matt’s wrist, and he whispered, “That’s it, that’s my girl. Just pull me up. I can’t use my right arm. Just …”
She wrapped her fingers tight, feeling the warmth of his skin. When she’d pulled him to safety, then what? Matt would never survive in a prison. As long as she’d known him, he’d been a free spirit. Looking back, she knew that spirit had survived at her own expense. Did that matter? You did what you had to for someone you love.
He was begging her, pleading with her. But frustration edged his voice now. “Help me, Kelse. Fuckin’ help me …” What choice did she have? She adjusted her grip, but just as she took the weight, his hand slipped through hers and she watched in horror as the crowd gasped and Matt plummeted to the ground with a crack. A hundred feet below, she could see him lying there, staring into the sky, and she knew he was dead.
A knot twisted in her chest. Could she have saved him? Did she try hard enough? Below the crowd moved in on him but the police pushed them back again. Almost at once, the attention of the crowd shifted to her. Right there in the silence, she saw accusation.
“I didn’t … I tried to help him,” she called. It was no use. Even she could see that.
When she got to her feet, Holly nestled in next to her, also peering down.
“Come here, baby, come away from the edge.” Kelsey lifted the child into her arms, hugging her close.
When she heard movement behind her, she turned. The woman standing at the top of the stairs was Holly’s mother, Elizabeth McClaine. Their eyes met and Elizabeth kneeled, arms reaching, calling for her child. Kelsey placed a kiss on the tip of the child’s nose and gently lowered her to her feet. Holly hesitated, fingers in her mouth, one arm clasped around Kelsey’s legs.
“Go on, go to your mom,” Kelsey said, and after a moment, the child shambled across and fell into her mother’s arms.
The bruising on Elizabeth McClaine’s face showed every blow Matt had landed. She drew her child in, enclosing her in a relieved embrace. Then she looked up. “Miss Money—Kelsey …?”
Kelsey clasped her hands tightly to her lips. “I’m … I’m sorry. I’m so very sorry.”
“It’s okay. It’s all okay now. You brought my daughter back to me.” Tears glistened in Elizabeth’s eyes, then broke to streak her cheeks. She dashed them away. “And for that—I thank you.” When the sound of footsteps clattered up the stairs behind her, she threw up her hand and shouted, “Wait. Stay back.”
The squawk of police radios and the murmur of the crowd echoed up from below.
So little time. So much to say. Kelsey dropped her head briefly. She swallowed hard and looked Elizabeth McClaine straight in the eye. “I was wrong. I should never have …” and she gestured helplessly. “If I could take it all back—”
“It’s all right, Kelsey. Everything’s going to be all right. Come, we’ll get you fixed up, find you a doctor, get you some help …”
Kelsey smiled. Behind her she could hear the cop on the bullhorn yelling “put down your weapon,” but she ignored him because she had one more thing to do. She slipped her hand into her pocket for the Roadster key. “I’m so sorry,” she said and held it out to Elizabeth McClaine. She wanted to tell her she was sorry for taking it, for wrecking their car and their lives, but Elizabeth shouted, “No!”
The world behind Kelsey went deadly silent, and in that instant she knew the sniper hadn’t seen a key, he’d seen a gun, and in the distance she caught the crack of a single shot. She felt something slam into her back and the front of her coveralls exploded in a shower of red, and she knew she’d been hit. Elizabeth’s mouth was moving, her face distorted by a soundless scream as she drew Holly into her arms. Spatters of red flecked her face, her hair and the plastic screening behind. Holly also blinked up at her, her cheeks and hair striped red …
… then violent, searing pain.
Kelsey clamped her arms across her chest, clutching at her life’s blood. Her surroundings wavered. When she looked up, Holly clamped her little arms across her chest, and mouthed the words Kelsey knew were, “Nuvs Nangsie Mommy.”
“I love you too, baby,” Kelsey whispered, but her words were red mist that was swept away in the wind. The world shimmered, and from somewhere among the murmurs and the sobs of the crowd below, she heard a voice. The words sharpened against the din, and she caught the sound of her name.
When she turned, the brilliance of the sun’s light stabbed her eyes. She blinked against the glare, but w
hen she opened them and lifted her face, all she could see was a sky so blue it ached. It stretched out for forever while the warmth of the sun touched softly on her skin. When the voice stirred her from the moment, she blinked and leaned over to look down.
And there she was. Blond hair flung back, lips painted red and stretched wide in laughter, dimples creasing her cheeks. She lounged back in the swim ring, painted toenails showing peeks of red beneath the surface, hands swirling lazily at her sides, cast there in the acres of crystal clear water that shimmered and sparkled as far as the eye could see.
At the sound of her laughter chiming out across the endless oceans, Kelsey smiled. “Mom?” she whispered. “Mom.”
“Kelsey,” her mother called, paddling around so she could see her. She smiled up and waved. “Come on in, baby, the water’s fine.”
“I love you, Mom.”
Still smiling, tears filling her eyes, Kelsey stepped forward. She had never seen her mother look so beautiful.
She wanted to tell her. She wanted her to know how much she’d missed her, how much she’d needed her, when she heard the distant sound of a sigh; felt light flood her body …
… then nothing.
EPILOGUE
FOUR MONTHS LATER
The winter had been a harsh one. January had drawn a heavy blanket of white across the whole of Cleveland. It formed solid banks down the sides of streets. It encrusted windows, blocked walks, piled up against doors. February and March were no better.
April brought the thaw. Snow melted under the clearing skies and the cleansing showers of spring washed it away. The first buds and green shoots appeared on otherwise naked trees, and daffodils burst yellow into gardens again.
Elizabeth zipped up the front of Holly’s coat and pulled the woolen collar high around her neck.
“Now, listen to me—are you listening? I want you to go find your bag,” she told her in clear, measured words.
Holly gazed up, mouth open, eyes blank.
“I know you can understand me, young lady. Go find your bag. He’ll be here soon.” The child raised her open hand and tapped her thumb to her forehead. “That’s right—Daddy,” said Elizabeth. “Now off you go.”
As Holly tottered away down the hallway, Elizabeth folded her arms and watched her. There was no knowing if she would return with the bag. Chances were she would be sidetracked and ten minutes later Elizabeth would find her lying on the floor playing with her new toy lion.
Smiling at the thought now, she pressed her lips together, still waiting.
So often these days, she found herself wondering how much Holly remembered. How much was she able to comprehend? For Elizabeth, it was a lifetime ago and yesterday all at once. The sight of the girl, Kelsey, standing on the edge of the world with her chest a bloodied, gaping wound still haunted her. She still awoke in the night calling her name, reaching for her.
What she remembered most vividly, though, was the girl’s smile. Elizabeth had lunged, trying to reach her, desperate to save her, but she knew no matter what she said or did, it was already too late. As if obeying a greater power, Kelsey had spread her arms, leaned into the wind, and let herself fall …
The sound of the doorbell jolted Elizabeth back to the present. She touched her fingers to the corners of her eyes and went straight to the front door.
Out on the stoop, Richard turned, his breath clouding as he rubbed his hands together for warmth. He blew into his gloves. “Who said spring was here?” he said and smiled. “Is she ready?”
“She’s getting her bag. Come on in.”
He stepped into the house behind her and looked around. “I still think you need a bigger place.”
She followed his gaze around the tiny house. “It suits us. And there are no stairs. Holly baby,” she called, “Daddy’s here! You will look after her …” she began, then stopped herself.
He smiled. “You know I will.” There was an awkward silence, then he said, “I still think you should run for office.”
“It’s early. I’ve got a long time ahead and right now Holly comes first. And when I’m not with her, the charities and work for the homeless are my next priority. Maybe one day things will change. How’s the company coming along?”
He tipped his head. “Still struggling a little. We’ll come back.”
To her surprise, Holly appeared at the end of the hallway lugging an enormous bag.
“What have you got in there?” asked Richard as he went to meet her.
“Ninny Nion.”
“Oh, that Lilly Lion. She must have gotten awfully big since I was here last,” he said. He lifted the bag from her with one hand, and took the child’s hand in the other. Then he turned to Elizabeth. “I miss you both.”
Her gaze dropped briefly. “I need time.”
“How about tomorrow?” He smiled.
She also smiled. “More time than that.”
He hoisted the bag then shuffled Holly out the door in front of him. Just as he was about to leave, he turned, and looked her straight in the eye. “I’ll be waiting.”
“I know you will,” she said and closed the door.
The End
Child of the State
Copyright © 2015 Catherine Lea
Published by Brakelight Press
ISBN: 978-0-473-34500-6
Child of the State is a work of fiction.
Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
PROLOGUE
CARRINGWAY WOMEN’S PRISON, OHIO—AMY
Amy knew she should have gone to Stacy the second she’d opened the box. All night she’d lain there in her cot, listening to every sound, frightened they’d come after her, and wondering who else knew. Because somebody did.
Why she’d even gotten stuck in that stupid job was anybody’s guess. She’d applied for the prison sewing program. Would have helped if she knew how to sew, but others on the same work scheme didn’t know how to sew when they started, either. They got lessons.
Amy still couldn’t make a buttonhole worth a damn so she got stuck in dispatch, sending out boxes of garments in the truck that turned up twice a week. Her job was to pack the boxes, check the details on the packing slip, seal the boxes up. Most boring job on the planet—or it was until that particular box came back, returned from wherever and marked Attention Dispatch Department. The only person around with any authority to accept the box was Trish Tomes, the prison officer overseeing the project.
Amy had been going through the box, looking at every item. She was just holding a silk blouse up to the light, checking she wasn’t imagining things, when Officer Tomes appeared behind her. Amy just about peed her pants. She yelped and pressed the blouse to her chest to try to slow her heart down. The woman had the stealth of a cat. Didn’t matter how hard you listened, you’d turn around and there she was, standing right behind you.
Officer Tomes took the blouse from Amy, holding it up to the light while she looked it over. Then she dug through the box, frowning as she brought out other garments and checked them.
“I’ll take care of this,” she told Amy.
“But these are ours.”
“I said I’ll take care of it. Now go back, seal up the last of those boxes.” Her tone implied she wasn’t going to say it again. She gathered up the returned box and took it back to her office. When Amy looked up the next time, she could see her on the phone, talking to someone with that sour look on her face, every now and then glancing accusingly across at Amy.
But Amy wasn’t stupid. She’d already tucked one of blouses down the front of her prison jumpsuit, then slept all night with it tucked under her mattress. Now here she was standing in line for breakfast with the blouse down the front of her jumpsuit while she waited for Stacy. What she’d discovered was something big—she just knew it was, and Stacy was the only on
e in this joint Amy could trust. She was also the one who’d know exactly what to do.
After several minutes, the doors opened and Stacy’s crew entered, lining up for their breakfast trays, all chattering and checking out the tables to see whether anyone had been stupid enough to sit in their seat, then looking back down the line to see who they might be eating with. Amy fell into line with her heart jumping and her hands shaking. She waited until her oatmeal and juice box had been set on her tray, and when she turned, she caught Stacy’s eye, indicating for her to sit with her.
As soon as Stacy came over, slid her tray onto the table and sat down, Amy looked left and right, and said, “Gotta talk.”
Stacy dug her spoon into her oatmeal, screwed her face up in disgust as she stirred it around. “Sure. Go ahead.”
Amy leaned forward and hissed, “I’m talking real talk. In private.”
Stacy looked up from her tray, her expression grim. “Are you okay?”
Amy gave the adjacent tables another furtive once-over. Satisfied they weren’t being overheard she leaned forward again. “I found something.”
Stacy straightened in her seat, lifting her head and letting her gaze casually navigate the room before settling back on Amy. “Go on.”
Amy took another quick glance back over her shoulder. “Can’t. Have to show you. Bathroom.”
Stacy got up and returned her tray to the counter along with her uneaten oatmeal, and pushed through the swing doors, heading in the direction of the bathroom. No point in leaving the meal until she got back. You leave your food unattended in this place, you never know what might have been added to it while you were gone. Amy followed, placing her food tray back with her breakfast untouched, giving the area another wary scan before following Stacy.
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