Unbelievable

by Sherry Gammon

  “Have you looked at her lately, I mean really looked at her? She doesn’t sleep well anymore. She’s lost almost as much weight as you. What are you down now, ten, fifteen pounds?”

  “Fourteen,” he admitted.

  “This has to end. You need to get this obsession under control before it destroys your life.”

  He didn’t say anything. Instead he laid his head back against the couch and looked up at the ceiling.

  “How are the panic attacks? Has all this stirred them up again?” I asked, scooping up a handful of chips.

  “They’re back, but I’m doing better at dealing with them. At least I’m sleeping a little at night, whereas before I wasn’t.” He took a large handful of chips for himself. “Did I ever tell you about the first time I met Maggie?” he asked, putting the chips back.

  “No.”

  “It was at her trailer. She and Seth had been at the park the night Lilah’s brother brutally mur. . . well, you remember what happened,” he said grimly.

  “Anyway,” he continued, “I walked up to the ramshackle trailer she lived in, unprepared for the sight of her.” His eyes crinkled. “So pale, so thin. Unbelievably thin. And the dark circles around her eyes were heartbreaking. She reminded me so much of my sister, my first instinct was to take her and hide her from all the garbage her mother had dragged her into.”

  “Why did she remind you of Sara?”

  “Sara and I were twins.” I already knew, but nodded. “She was very sick. As a baby she was in and out of the hospital constantly. She had asthma, and my parents had a difficult time controlling it. When she turned twelve, she developed diabetes. Sara struggled daily with her sugar levels. That was why she was so thin.

  “Kids at school were mean to her, calling her names and pushing her around. I think I got into five fights in tenth grade protecting her from some of the jerks who found it funny to trip her, or spill their lunch on her.”

  “You fought with girls?” I asked in surprise.

  “No. I’d never hit a girl, you know that. These were guys. A little group of cruel, mean guys. Maggie looked so much like Sara. Not the face, but the general sickly appearance, and it triggered all these protective instincts in me.”

  “And you’re afraid Lilah’s father will do to Mags and Seth what the men who broke into your home did to your family,” I said, understanding his struggle with Lilah a little more. He was just sixteen when they were beaten to death in front of him.

  He nodded and turned the TV off. “The Mets are losing. No surprise there. Come on, let’s go shoot some hoops,” he said. I pointed to my bandaged head.

  “Who knows, maybe the surgery helped your coordination. It certainly couldn’t have hurt it. Maybe you’ve passed through your clumsy stage,” he said, walking into the kitchen. I followed.

  “Nope.” I pushed the sleeve of my shirt up, revealing a large bruise with a small bandage across it.

  “What happened?” Booker grimaced.

  “One of Seth’s tiles in the bathroom has a raised lip and my foot caught it while brushing my teeth this afternoon,” I admitted with reluctance.

  “Doc, that lip’s microscopic.” He laughed. “I’m only kidding about playing basketball. I’ll see if I have a tiddlywinks game. Wait.” He stopped and turned back to me. “Too dangerous. You’ll probably poke an eye out. Let’s stick to cards. Is Uno okay? Although you could get a paper cut.”

  I picked up the discarded newspaper lying on the table, balled it up and tossed it at him, missing of course.

  He grinned. “Some things never change.”

  Chapter 35

  Lilah

  I spent all my time over the next two days with Cole. “It was the best of times, it was the worst of times,” to quote Dickens. The best was sitting and talking about things like our dreams, our desires for our future life together, and just the tender sweetness of being in love.

  The worst? Knowing that, in truth, we’d have no future together, and that I’d be leaving soon. What hurt equally was watching Cole struggle with the pain. He refused to take the prescription meds from the surgeon and got by on ibuprofen. If he was lucky, his exhaustion took over and he could sleep through some of the pain.

  Two more positives: Daddy hadn’t called back, and Booker was fairly cordial when he came by Seth’s. Cole didn’t tell me exactly what had happened, but it seemed to have an impact on Booker, at least in front of Cole.

  The bedroom furniture was scheduled to arrive at two this afternoon. Cole had a headache, which he assured me was normal after brain surgery. He stayed at Seth’s to rest for a while. I went to the house and moved the couch aside so they could get the huge bed in easier. It took an hour for them to assemble the bed. Cole arrived with Booker as I finished putting on the bedspread.

  “Hold on. I’m almost done,” I called out to Cole.

  Hurrying, I positioned the pillows on the bed and arranged the clock and lamp I’d bought for the bedside table, stepping back to make sure everything looked right. “Perfect. Not too girly, not to manly.” I hurried out to Cole and led him to the room. Booker wandered upstairs, clearly not wanting to be part of it.

  “Close your eyes.” I took Cole’s hand, guiding him through the door, stopping after a few paces. “Okay, look.”

  His mouth dropped open. “The bed’s beautiful, perfect for the space,” I pointed out. “Note the mattress is a California king, just like you wanted.” I looked at him with trepidation. “Do you like it?”

  “I love it.” He smiled widely. “I love everything. It’s perfect, all of it. I love the orange—”

  “Burnt orange,” I interjected. “Remember you picked it out on one of the web sites. I know you don’t care for orange—”

  “But I actually like the burnt orange, especially with the brown and beige—”

  “Cream.”

  He laughed. “Brown and cream pillows. Everything is perfect. Thank you.” He pulled me into his arms. “You did an outstanding job. And Maggie, of course.”

  “I’m glad you like it. Booker said he’d get the mantle done next week.”

  “No rush. I don’t think we’ll need it for a while since it’s supposed to be ninety-seven degrees out today.”

  “I brought lunch to celebrate.” Seth’s voice rang out from the other room.

  We met them in the kitchen. They had a basket full of food on the counter. Booker came down from upstairs and joined us.

  “We have Caesar salad, cold potato-leek soup, and fresh off-the-vine watermelon.” Seth set the food on the counter as Maggie gathered some plates and utensils.

  “Magpie, keep using that spoon and we’ll be here ‘til Christmas,” Booker teased as she mistakenly tried to serve up the soup with a slotted spoon.

  “Why so grumpy, Book, didn’t get your cat nap today?”

  And the bantering began.

  Cole leaned against the wall and folded his arms, watching everyone.

  “Are you okay?” I asked, rubbing his back.

  “Couldn’t be better. And I owe it all to you, Lilah. Finally, I have a home. Not some empty shell of a house, but a warm, inviting home where my friends can visit. And I have the perfect woman to share it all with.”

  I looked into his eyes, so full of love, thinking maybe, somehow, I could have this life I so desperately wanted.

  Cole lit up with laughter, watching Booker spill lemonade on the counter. Maggie grabbed a towel and mopped up the mess as Booker cleaned up the floor where it had dribbled over the edge. For the first time in a long while I saw a genuine smile on Booker’s face.

  My cell phone rang, instantly squelching the fun. All eyes turned to me. Booker’s face hardened. As if by instinct, Seth’s arm wrapped around Maggie protectively. I reached for my purse, my hands shaking so hard I could barely open it. I drew out the phone.

  Restricted. I sunk to my knees. “I can’t do this anymore. I just can’t.” I didn’t bother wiping the tears away. “I want my life back. I’m tired of this
game.” I buried my face in my hands, bumping my head on my phone. “No more. Please, no more. I can’t do this anymore.”

  Warm hands wrapped around mine. I looked up expecting to see Cole’s deep blue eyes, and flinched when I met Booker’s.

  “De-Lilah, please, just one more time. If this doesn’t work, then you can tell him the truth. We’re so close now. Please,” he pleaded softly.

  “No. This is ridiculous. She’s done,” Cole demanded.

  I looked over at Seth, with his arm around Maggie, tears glistening in her eyes. I looked back at Cole, his head still carrying the bandages from surgery, and answered the phone, setting it on speaker.

  “Princess.” I cringed at the name. Cole pushed off the wall and stomped across the room, anger pouring off him. “I need those numbers now!”

  “Hi, Dad. How are you doing? I’m fine, thank you. Oh, the weather here, it’s just—”

  “I don’t have time for games, Delilah,” he shouted. “I want those numbers.”

  “I tried to get them for you last time you called, but you hung up, remember?” My voice shook. Cole came to my side.

  “You know I have to worry about the Feds tracing my calls. I can’t be on for long, Delilah.”

  “Yes, I understand, Daddy, but you don’t have to get angry with me for that. I’m not a federal agent. And I’m up here in New York, alone, I might add, trying to get the info you want.” I started crying again, this time on purpose. Daddy was a sucker for my tears. If anything could keep him on the phone it’d be that.

  “You don’t understand what it’s like for me here.” I sucked in a lungful of air to add to the drama. “I’m all alone. I have no one I can talk to or trust. Everywhere I go I feel like I’m being followed.” Okay, that much was true.

  “Princess, please don’t. This will all be over soon, you’ll see. Then you can live wherever you want. You’ll have enough money to hire personal bodyguards to protect you. I’m doing this for you, princess. All for you.”

  Booker had his phone pressed to his ear and spoke in hushed tones across the room, signaling me to keep him talking.

  “If that’s true then I don’t want the money. I want you. I want you to come get me and take me away from here.” I knew it was a losing argument, but if it kept him on the phone longer, we’d rehash it.

  “Delilah, enough. Just give me the numbers.”

  “Okay, but these are new numbers, Daddy. Booker’s certifiable and he keeps changing his security code. I’m lucky I got them this time.” Maggie chuckled silently as I signaled for a pen. She handed me one from the desk in the kitchen and I wrote the phony numbers I gave to my dad down on my hand in case he double checked me. All the while Booker signaled to keep him on the line. I stumbled twice and started over.

  “Delilah, stop screwing this up,” Daddy barked.

  “Sorry, I had to write it quickly and my writing’s a little rough, okay?” I snapped back.

  “How many more numbers?” he demanded.

  “Seven,” I lied. He groaned. After four numbers I stopped.

  “I thought you said there were seven. That’s only four,” Daddy pressed.

  “There’re three more. I just wanted to make sure you were caught up,” I said, frowning at Booker as he again mouthed to keep going.

  “The last three numbers are six, six, six.” I stuck my tongue out at Booker. Seth’s body shook in silent laughter this time.

  “Six, six, six? As in the biblical mark of the beast?” Daddy asked, laughing a little also.

  “Yup. Exactly like the biblical beast.” I beamed proudly. “But there’s more.”

  “What!”

  “Listen. He has a security camera and you’ll need to turn it off or a silent alarm will signal and you’ll be caught.” I shrugged, not knowing how else to keep him on the line. Booker gave me the thumbs up.

  “The guy’s nuts,” Daddy growled.

  “Oh, Daddy, you have no idea.” Cole grinned at me. “There is a small panel under the camera. Press it and a keyboard will drop down. Here’s the code for it.”

  “It’s a different code than the other one?” he yelled through a hard coughing spell.

  “Yup.” I made up a new set of numbers, noting that we’d been on the phone for three and a half minutes now. “Okay, repeat it back so I can make sure you have it.”

  The line was dead. He’d hung up. Everyone turned to Booker. He held up one finger, signaling us to wait. A wide grin cut across his face. “We got it. He’s two miles south of Laraso, Mexico,” he said directly to me. I nodded as Cole pulled me off the floor and into his arms. I buried my face in my hands, hiding my sorrow over turning my own father in to the police, even if he did deserve to go to jail.

  “Hate to leave a party early, but I have a flight to Mexico to catch,” Booker said, tucking his phone in his pocket.

  “No! You can’t go down there.” I pulled out of Cole’s arms. “You’re hated among the drug smugglers in Mexico. If you go there, someone’ll kill you. You won’t get out alive.”

  “She’s right, Book. This isn’t the first time we’ve heard that.” Seth walked over to Booker, putting a hand on his shoulder.

  “I’m not worried. I’ll have my team with me.” As Seth and Booker continued debating whether it was wise for Booker to go, I took Cole aside.

  “You can’t let him go. They’ll kill him. I don’t care how many people he takes with him. Birdie said the police in that town are corrupt,” I said, panicking. “You have to stop him.”

  “Maybe I should go too, then,” Seth said. Maggie’s eyes about popped out of her head.

  Think fast, girl. You’re a Dreser. Think!

  “Watermelon, anyone?” I pulled out a shiny cleaver from the butcher block sitting on the counter. With one solid swing I came down hard on the watermelon, brutally slicing it in half. Red juice splashed up onto my white shirt, but more importantly, it splashed Maggie, just like I hoped it would.

  I laughed. “Amazing how much watermelon blood looks like real blood, don’t you think?”

  “Juice. Watermelon juice,” Booker said through his clenched teeth.

  “Juice, blood, whatever.” I swung the cleaver down sharply on another wedge. It too splattered not only on Maggie, but all over the counter, running onto the floor.

  “I’ll clean up the mess when I’m done, Maggie, don’t worry about it,” I told her as she went for the paper towels. “I’m good at cleaning up messes. No one will ever know there was blood, I mean juice, here. I am a Dreser after all.” I stabbed the melon again. “Knives and messes are our specialty.” I laughed.

  Maggie turned to Booker, all smiles. She knew exactly what I was up to. “So if you two go, who’s staying to watch over me?” Both Booker and Seth turned green. I took another whack at the poor melon, butchering it even further. This time Booker cringed at the sound.

  Cole must have figured it out because he joined in. “I’ll watch over Mags. I have a gun hidden in a shoebox in the closet. I believe I have some bullets somewhere around here.” He picked up a fork from the counter and tossed it toward the sink, missing it by a mile. “Don’t worry. I’m sure my aim will be better than my throw . . . I hope.”

  “Cole, the bullets are in a box on the top shelf of that cupboard over there.” I pointed. “I found them when I was putting away the dishes.” I roughly sliced another chunk of watermelon. Seth jerked this time.

  “I guess it’d be better if I stayed in town.” Seth stepped over next to Maggie. She smiled coyly at me.

  I brutally stabbed a chunk of melon and held the watermelon kabob out to Booker. “You should try this. It’s so good. But messy. My shirt’s covered in the bloo-ah, juice.” I laughed. “I still think it looks like watered down blood, don’t you?”

  Booker’s eyes narrowed. But I wasn’t finished. “Seth, aren’t you in the middle of finals? Who’s going to watch Maggie while you’re in school?”

  “Ignore her,” Booker growled. “She’s just putting
on a show. Go ahead, I’ll be right out,” he said to the two cops who’d appeared out of nowhere in the kitchen.

  Booker’s tight face turned to me. “Don’t quit your day jobs, either one of you,” he bit out, pointing to Maggie and me. “I know what you’re doing, and it’s a cheap shot. I wouldn’t have expected it from you,” he said to Maggie.

  She shrugged, her eyes wide. “Don’t know what you mean, Book.”

  “I’m going to Mexico, and this stupid little charade isn’t going to stop me.” He turned to me. “Delilah, are you afraid I’m going to find out you haven’t been completely honest with me? Is that the real reason you don’t want me to go?”

  My eyes filled with fire. I brought the knife down on another slice of melon, splattering it everywhere. “Maybe I’m hoping you’ll see through my little act and get your sorry butt on that plane, ASAP, since I’ve set up a pretty good alibi, don’t you think? Everyone here thinks I’m trying to convince you to stay, including the two cops you conveniently sent out to the car. If you come back alive, and one or two of your friends are dead, who’d believe it was me after this display?”

  Booker started to say something, but stopped. His jaw tightened in anger. He was torn, and we all knew it.

  “All right, I’ll stay for now, but I’ll be getting a full report when Daddy Dearest is interrogated.” He turned and stormed out of the kitchen.

  “Thank you, Lilah. I didn’t want to leave, but I was afraid to let him go by himself.” Seth gave me a hug. “You’re a formidable little thing.”

  “And a lousy watermelon slicer,” Maggie added as we cleaned up the mess. Cole slumped into a kitchen chair, rubbing his forehead.

  “Are you okay?” I asked, kneeling down next to him.

  “Yes, but I just may break down and take a prescription pain pill tonight.”

  “I’m sorry, Cole.” I rubbed at the tension in his shoulders.

  “You just saved my friend’s life, Lilah. You have nothing to be sorry about.” He squeezed my hand.

  “Seth, will you do me a favor? Will you let the authorities in Mexico know that my father’s ill and needs his meds?” I asked softly. “I know he’s hurt you and Maggie through my brothers, and me, but he’s still my father and I love him.”