Unbelievable

by Sherry Gammon

  “I grew up here,” she said. “Just me and my mom. Now that she’s gone, and Seth and I are married, there’s no need to keep it.” Her mouth said the words, but her tone said something completely different. Obviously she struggled with the idea of letting go.

  “I want to give the place an overhaul, from top to bottom,” she said firmly as we walked up the small pathway to the door.

  I glared at the beat-up trailer. The only thing that would help it was a wrecking ball, that much I was sure of.

  She fidgeted with the key before slipping it into the lock. The door creaked open slowly and a feeling of foreboding crept into my soul. I didn’t want to go inside. I didn’t want to know the things that went on in there.

  “I’ve not been here since…” Maggie didn’t finish, instead, pushing the door open wide. A thick wave of super-heated air rushed out, smacking us in the face. “Sorry. We couldn’t afford A/C. It can be like an oven in here. If you open the windows in the bedrooms there’s a decent cross breeze, some days.”

  Maggie moved to the living room window and threw it open, sucking in a lungful of outside air.

  “I’ll never forget the smell.” Her voice was barely above a whisper.

  I inhaled deeply, quickly realizing what she was talking about. It smelled like my dad after he’d come home late from a business dinner. He didn’t drink often, mostly when he had business meetings.

  “Are you okay?” I asked.

  “Yes. It’s just that there are a lot of memories here. I’ll be fine,” she assured me. “I want to fix the place up so I can sell it and put it all behind me. I’ve been thinking about it for a while now, but after all that’s happened over the past couple days, I’m surer than ever that I need to do it.”

  Sorrow poured out of every nook and cranny of the tin home. The place was a disaster, with its beaten down couch and chair in the living area, to a small rickety table and chairs in the adjoining kitchen. Everything carried a thick layer of dust, even the decrepit . . . pillowcases? which hung as makeshift curtains on the windows. A film of filth clouded the windows, and the paint on the walls had worn so thin the cheap wallboard, common in trailers, shone through. I wanted to leave, to stop the eerie feelings from invading me, but I couldn’t. I didn’t believe in ghosts, but this place felt haunted. I walked slowly through the small space, taking in the feelings of emptiness pecking at me from every corner.

  “I’m guessing you brought me here to help you redecorate the place so you can sell it.”

  She nodded. “But that’s not the main reason.” She led me to the back toward two bedrooms.

  I entered a tiny bedroom, wondering how anyone could fit a bed in such a small space. But they had, and a beat up dresser too. I noticed the ceiling tiles in the closet sitting on the floor.

  “Mice?” I questioned, pointing to the mess.

  “No,” Maggie said soberly. “My mom was an alcoholic. She inadvertently became involved with . . . your brothers. They, along with a weasel of a neighbor of ours, used to get her drunk, not that that was too difficult, then hid heroin up in our ceiling.”

  I pinched my eyes shut and leaned against the door frame.

  Maggie touched my arm. “In a weird way, you and I are both connected to this place. We can use this as a catalyst to move past everything that’s happened to us.”

  Not knowing what to say, I just stared at her. Finally, Maggie let out a short laugh. “You must think I’m an idiot. I’m sorry, this is a stupid idea.”

  She pushed past me and I grabbed her arm. “Maggie—”

  She held up her hand, stopping me. “I didn’t sleep at all last night. I kept thinking about the things you told Cole, things you and I have talked about. I believe you. There are too many inconsistencies in Booker’s version of what’s going on.” She shook her head. “I thought this would be a way for us to work together to put closure on our pasts and move forward,” she said, ruffled somewhat.

  I thought for a moment, amazed at her generosity. “I like the idea. I don’t agree with your philosophy, but I like it.”

  “Don’t agree? Why? What do you mean?”

  “You were a victim. I willingly made a deal with my father.”

  “You made a deal so you’d be free of his tyrannical rule,” she said with conviction. “And I don’t like the word victim. I am not a victim. I’m a fighter, a survivor.”

  “And I’m a chicken who runs and hides from my father instead of standing up for what’s right,” I said soberly.

  “Not any more. You’re not alone, Lilah. I’m here and I’ll stand by you. I’d also like you to help me redo this trailer.” She smiled and added, “Please accept.”

  I looked into her warm blue eyes and saw the friendship she offered. It touched me. “Thank you.” I wiped away a tear from my cheek. “Tell me, what do Booker and Seth think of your little plan?”

  “Remember back at the hospital I said I’d been debating an idea? I haven’t exactly told them yet,” she said, a crooked smile pulling on her lips. “I’m sure my bodyguard’s told them we’re here. I’m surprised Book hasn’t shown up yet, to be honest.”

  “Great. I get to see Booker again,” I grumbled. A thought hit me as I watched her laugh. “Maggie, does all this bravado of yours have anything to do with the bodyguard watching over us?”

  She shifted her feet before answering. The gesture told me I’d hit the nail on the head. “Lilah, I’m pretty sure you’re being honest. But,” she added hesitantly, “after what I went through with your brothers, I’d be lying if I said a shadow of doubt still didn’t hang over me.”

  I nodded. “Pretty sure? I can live with that. Besides, I feel better knowing someone’s watching us.” I didn’t tell her it was because I didn’t trust my father. It wouldn’t surprise me if he just showed up one day, unannounced.

  “So you’ll help?” Maggie asked.

  “Yes, and thank you, for everything. I’m sorry about all my family has put you through.”

  “Lilah—” Screeching tires cut her off. “I do believe Booker has arrived.” She glanced out the living room window and took a slow steady breath. “Batten down the hatches.”

  “That bad?” Before she could answer, in stomped Booker, wild-eyed.

  “What’s going on? Why are you here alone with her?” He growled through his teeth.

  “I hired her to redo the trailer. I’m thinking about selling it.” Maggie said each word slowly, as if bracing for his reaction.

  Booker scrubbed his face and wheeled away.

  “If you think about it, Captain Gatto, it’s an ingenious plan,” I said.

  He turned to me. “Is that right, princess? Please enlighten me then, because that’s not how I see it.”

  I stiffened. “My name’s Delilah, though I prefer Lilah, but never, under any circumstances, are you to call me princess,” I said, my voice devoid of all sarcasm. Only Daddy called me that, even though I’d asked him not to. Princess reminded me of Alan. Not a memory I enjoyed.

  “Why do you think it’s a good idea?” Booker spit out, not acknowledging my request.

  “If I’m here, it’ll be easier for your spies to keep tabs on me. Not to mention the people Seth has tailing Maggie.”

  Maggie laughed, stopping when Booker shot her a sour expression.

  “Does Seth know about this?” He glared at poor Maggie. She didn’t flinch. Brave girl.

  “No. He has class until five. I’ll tell him then,” she assured him. “In fact, I need to get going. I still have to do some shopping for dinner.” She grabbed her purse and headed out the door. “See you tomorrow, Lilah.”

  Booker mumbled, “Over my dead body,” but she was already gone.

  I started for the door when he stopped me. “I don’t know what you’re playing at, pri . . . Delilah, but it’s not going to work. Remember my warning from this morning.”

  “I’m innocent, Gatto, and I find your vigilante tactics tiring.” Not until clearing the door did I remember I’d
ridden over with Maggie. She must have forgotten, too.

  “Helping Maggie’s not a good idea, Delilah,” I murmured, heading for the library and my little orange bug.

  Chapter 25

  “Beige? You want to breathe new life in this place and you’ve chosen beige?” I said, opening the first can of paint. We’d been prepping the trailer for two days, taping off the moldings, patching holes in the wall, and hauling the abused furniture to the curb. Finally we had it ready to paint.

  “Booker said if we want a quick sale, I should choose a neutral color,” Maggie explained as she finished setting down the rest of the paint on the tarp in the center of the living room.

  “You can be neutral without being boring,” I assured her, gathering a paint tray along with some rollers and brushes from the kitchen counter. “How’s Cole doing?”

  “I haven’t seen him, not since the night we got back,” she said, worry clouding her face. “Honestly, I’m concerned. He hasn’t come by our house or Booker’s.”

  “Where’s he sleeping?” I said, stopping dead.

  “Probably the hospital. That’s where he usually does if he’s not at one of our houses.”

  “Maybe my dad . . .” I almost choked on the fear riding up my throat. Maggie stepped over next to me.

  “Lilah, don’t faint on me,” she said, eyeing me carefully. “He’s fine. Booker talked to him yesterday in the ER while he was there with an overdose victim. Book said he was quiet, but otherwise fine.”

  Relieved, I wiped the beads of sweat from my upper lip. Seth planned on putting A/C in the sauna Maggie called her trailer. It wouldn’t be fast enough for me. I poured some paint into the paint tray as Maggie watched out of the corner of her eye.

  “How’s married life?” I asked, hoping to lighten the mood.

  “Great,” she beamed.

  “I don’t think I ever felt like that during my marriage,” I chuckled.

  “I take it you weren’t happy.” Maggie set the lid from the can on the counter and picked up a roller.

  “David and I thought we were soulmates. It didn’t take long for the delusion to fall apart.” I dipped my roller in the tray, covering it with the boring beige, and started painting the wall.

  “What was David like?”

  “Bland.” I shook my head as I examined the swatch I’d just painted.

  “What was bland about him?” Maggie asked as she painted the section next to me.

  “No, I meant the paint. Very bland.” I grimaced dramatically. “David, on the other hand, was exciting. He had these grand ideas about fighting the evil capitalist system. Problem was he had an aversion to hard work. He wanted to live off the land and not at the hand of others. His big dream was to buy a couple of acres of ground and we’d live off what he himself grew. Any extra he’d sell at a farmer’s market and use the money for the things he couldn’t grow. He was a vegan, so naturally I had to be one also.” The small room didn’t take long to paint and we finished two walls quickly.

  “Being self-sufficient sounds like a nice idea,” Maggie said as she added more paint to her roller. “I don’t think I could be a vegan, though.”

  “I did pretty well until I got pregnant. I craved meat so badly I thought I would go insane. But David wouldn’t allow me to give in, insisting it would pass. But it never did. After the commune went bankrupt, I worked two jobs, one of which was McDonalds. I ate a Big Mac every day I worked.”

  “Did David ever find out?”

  “Nope.” I grinned. “After we moved in with my father, David walked into the kitchen as I feasted away on steak. He flipped out. The next day he learned the truth about my family and that was that,” I said, refilling the paint tray. “Honestly, I was relieved when he walked out on me. The only thing that hurt was the fact that he didn’t want anything to do with the baby.” I set the roller down. “I loved my baby even before she was born. I couldn’t fathom just walking away from her.”

  “I’m sorry, Lilah.” Maggie squeezed my shoulder.

  “I think what I love the most about Cole is his non-judgmental ways. He’s kind to everyone. When I was redoing his office, I’d sneak into the ER and watch him. I even sketched him a few times. He’s even nice to those most belligerent. I miss him. I wish he’d call to say hi, if nothing else.”

  A loud rumbling drew my attention to the window. A rusted-out car puttered to the curb in front of the trailer.

  “Did you order pizza?” I asked Maggie as she turned to look.

  “That’s Booker’s car,” she giggled. “We lovingly call it the POC Mobile.” I looked at her, clueless. “Piece of Crap,” she mouthed as Booker and Seth strolled in the front door.

  I’d only seen Booker with a gun strapped to his body. It was weird seeing him in jeans, a t-shirt, and a Baltimore Ravens ball cap.

  “Hello, wonderful husband,” Maggie said, snuggling up to Seth, who also wore jeans and a t-shirt. Quite the contrast to Maggie and my paint covered short and shirts.

  “Hello, beautiful wife,” Seth said, nuzzling her neck.

  “Hello, vomit racing up my throat,” grumbled Booker.

  I dipped my head to cover my grin. Menacing or not, the guy was funny.

  “We brought three window A/C units. One for the living area and one for each bedroom,” Seth said, staring into Maggie’s eyes. I couldn’t help but envy their love.

  “Three units? Whoever buys this place will end up with a case of frostbite if they’re not careful.” Maggie fingered his hair as she spoke.

  “The bedroom ones are smaller. Now, can we get busy installing them before you two need to get a room?” pressed Booker.

  “What’s the matter, Crookshanks? Jealous because you don’t have anyone to share your scratching post with?” Maggie teased.

  Booker rolled his eyes. “I’ll go get a unit.” He turned and left.

  “You’re doing a nice job, Lilah,” Seth said. It sounded forced, but at least he tried.

  “Thanks. Your wife’s been working hard. She taped off both bedrooms by herself,” I pointed out.

  He smiled at Maggie. “I’d better go help.” He left as Booker walked in carrying a small A/C unit. He took it directly into Maggie’s old bedroom. Seth brought another and set it in her mom’s old room.

  “It looks like you’re almost done, Magpie,” Booker said, ambling back into the living room. “Good job.”

  “We should finish the painting by tomorrow,” she said. Seth came back in the room as Maggie explained the plan for the trailer. “We’re going to order carpet tomorrow before we—”

  “You have to let paint cure about two weeks before they’ll install carpet. I didn’t know you were planning on that or I would’ve told you,” Seth said, glancing oddly at Booker.

  “Two weeks,” Booker shook his head. “No. This needs to end. I’ll install new moldings, and then they can put carpet in right away.”

  “Why, what’s the ru . . . Oh, for crying out loud. This is ridiculous. Lilah’s still going to be my friend when we’re done here. Finishing the trailer won’t change that,” she snapped. “Need I remind you there’s security following us around? It’s not like she can off me without getting caught.” Seth cringed at her choice of words.

  “Actually, I could. The spy watching us is across the street. She can’t really see inside. I could kill Mags and leave, pretending I have to run to the store for supplies.” Both Booker and Seth’s eyes widened as I revealed my fictitious plot.

  “Lilah!” Maggie said, smacking my shoulder. “Guys, please go get the other A/C unit. That wasn’t funny,” Maggie chastised as they left.

  “Oh, yes it was, just to see Booker’s face turn green,” I said, smiling ear to ear. Maggie pressed her lips together to keep from smiling. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I do understand why they’re worried. I don’t have anyone to blame but myself.” I reloaded my roller and continued painting in silence. Guilty silence.

  Two minutes later, Seth and Booker carried the last A/C
unit in. It was larger than the two bedroom units. Jenny, the spy, walked in behind them.

  “Have a seat, Jenny,” Booker said as they set the unit on the counter in the kitchen.

  Jenny frowned and sat on an overturned trashcan. Booker gave me a curt nod and followed Seth into a bedroom. Maggie rolled her eyes.

  **

  The next three days were no better. Booker tore up all the molding along the floor so the carpet could be installed without delay. He talked Maggie into going with a boring beige carpet because it was in stock and we wouldn’t have to wait. After it was installed, he brought over his loud nail gun and even louder saw, and installed new pre-painted moldings.

  “Pre-painted is the easiest, Maggie. You won’t have to worry about spilling paint on the carpet,” Booker insisted.

  “True. Of course the fact that it saves time, thus expediting Lilah and I working together has no bearing on your choice. Right?” she complained.

  A heated debate between the two ensued. Having had enough of Booker for one day, I left and went back to my apartment. I packed and unpacked my belongings twice before giving up on the idea of running away. With Booker having my every action monitored, it would be near impossible to skip town.

  I gathered my easel and paints to work on my canvas of Cole. I didn’t get very far before tears clouded my vision, making it difficult for me to see. Giving up, I crawled onto my bed and cried myself to sleep.

  When I woke the next morning, I checked my cell hoping that just maybe Cole had called. But no. Not a call, not a text. Maggie called twice, leaving a message the second time, apologizing for what happened earlier. I showered and headed over to Maggie’s trailer.

  “Morning,” Maggie said, smiling brightly as I came up the small walkway to the trailer. Two men were on the roof ripping off the old shingles, and an entire team of men worked installing new siding.

  “It’s hopping around here already,” I said.

  “Yup.” Mags grabbed my arm. Jenny was on her heels. “Hurry. Let’s get going before Booker shows up.” She dragged me toward her red Lexus. I climbed in the front as Maggie signaled for the spy to get in. She sat in the back.