Three Heartbeats Away: The Mortician's Daughter, #3

by C. C. Hunter

  My aunt sighs. “Riley?”

  “I’m sorry, but you can’t push me on this.” I move around her and open my door. Then I lean over and unlock Kelsey’s door. When I back out, my aunt is still standing there frowning.

  “You handled that with finesse,” Kelsey says.

  “Yeah,” I say, but I can’t stop shaking.

  “What do you really want? Do you not want to see her?” Hayden asks after I get to his house and tell him about my aunt showing up.

  “I do and I don’t. I just… I think it’s going to hurt my dad really bad.”

  “Whoa. You can’t not do this because of him. Riley, he’s the reason you haven’t known she’s alive.”

  “I know, and it’s not only that. I just… I don’t know what I want. Where my mom’s concerned, I’m all screwed up. I’m furious at her, and I blame her. Then I blame my dad, and then I want to punish her for leaving us. Did I tell you she took all their savings when she left? And then I want to think…” Tears fill my eyes. “I want to believe she’s sorry and that she really loves me.”

  We’re on his sofa, and he puts his arm around me and draws me closer. I start to cry on his shoulder.

  Then I regret it. “I’m sorry.” I pull away and try to shake it off.

  “For what?” he asks.

  “For falling apart. I gotta stop that.”

  “Hey.” He tips my chin up and looks at me. “You can fall apart on me anytime. And I mean that.”

  I smile. “Thank you,” I say, but what I’d like to say is, I love you. The words hang on the tip of my tongue. While we talked about saying it to each other earlier, it somehow feels too soon now.

  “I’m serious.” He grabs my hand. “I’m here for you.”

  “I know.”

  He leans in and kisses me again. It’s soft and it’s sweet, but in a few minutes, it’s more. We end up stretched out on the sofa. When we pull apart, we’re both breathing a little heavy. I know where kissing like this leads, and I want it, but another part of me says we don’t need to rush that. When it happens, I want it to be right. I don’t want to worry about his mom coming home early. Or one of his friends stopping by.

  He sits up as if he can almost read my mind. I push up and look at my phone. “What time is your therapy session?”

  “It got cancelled. They called about an hour ago and said my therapist had some emergency. But I got an idea of how we can get the information to the reporter about the donut place.”

  “How?” I ask.

  He leans over and picks up a telephone that’s in a bag. “We’re going to text him.”

  I stare at the phone, confused. “But can’t they trace that?”

  “Yup. But…this isn’t my phone.”

  “Whose is it?”

  “It’s my stepdad’s.” He smiles. “I was checking the mail this morning, and I saw it on the ground. He must have dropped it when he left in a huff the other day. He’s called it like ten times. But he hasn’t turned it off. And it’s still working. We should go somewhere so the call can’t be traced back to this neighborhood. Then we’ll drop the phone in the middle of the freeway and watch some eighteen-wheeler smash it.”

  “You sure you shouldn’t return it?”

  “Hell no! You should have heard how he spoke to my mom. Destroying his phone is the least of what I want to do to that man.”

  I’m not convinced. “What if they think your stepdad sent the text?”

  “They won’t. He’ll say he lost it. And it’ll be the truth.” He frowns when he sees my hesitation. “If it’ll make you feel any better, we’ll drop the phone off close to the apartment he’s renting. Someone might find it and return it.”

  “Better,” I say. “But do you know the reporter’s number?”

  “Yeah. He posted it on an article last week and asked for any leads on another case.”

  We drive to Post Street, an eight-mile drive close to where his stepdad is renting an apartment. Through the plastic, so he doesn’t leave prints, Hayden sends a text to the reporter. Then he drops the phone off in front of a library across the street from the apartments.

  When we get back in the car, he says, “It would have felt better if I dropped it in the street.”

  I frown at him. “Be nice.”

  “He doesn’t deserve nice,” he says.

  Then we head over to Delicious Donuts. It’s closed, but we park facing the building across the street, the way I’ve done many times. “Shane says he still goes there. But I’ve never seen any cars or lights on, except that one night when Kelsey was with me and I thought someone pulled in there. But it was dark and maybe I just thought that’s where they turned.”

  Hayden looks around. “That is the gate into the property, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “And that’s where you photographed the guy squeezing through?”

  I nod.

  He exhales. “That’s pretty incriminating. Seriously, I think if the police saw someone visiting a crime scene where a murder took place, it’d land them on the suspect list.”

  “I know,” I say.

  “What’s on the other side of that building?”

  I gaze at him. “I don’t know.”

  “Why don’t we see if we can find what street backs up to the building. Maybe there’s a back entrance.”

  “I don’t know why I didn’t think of that.” I start the car.

  We drive around until we think we’re on the street that backs up to the building. There doesn’t appear to be a back entrance. But because the street is lined with houses and we can’t see into their backyards, we can’t be sure.

  “Well, that didn’t help,” I say, practically stopped in the middle of the road.

  Hayden suddenly turns to me. “Let’s get out of here. Drive. Go.”

  I push on the gas a little fast, reacting to his tone. “Why? Did you see something?”

  “Just a curtain fluttering closed, but I shouldn’t have suggested we do this.”

  “Why?” I slow down.

  “Because it’s not as if your car isn’t memorable. What if the guy lives at one of these houses and he spots you driving by real slow? He may have already seen your car at the donut shop. And God forbid it’s Coach Ericson. Because he’s probably seen your car at school.”

  A cold chill runs down my spine. “I caught him looking at it in the parking lot the other day.”

  “Damn it! I hate thinking something might happen to you.”

  I get home around six. Dad’s car is parked in the driveway. I sit in my Mustang in the garage, rubbing my hands on my jeans and breathing too fast before going inside.

  When I walk into the kitchen, Pumpkin greets me. I pick him up, look into the living room, but I don’t see Dad. I take a few more steps into the kitchen and stop short when I see him sitting at the breakfast table.

  He’s staring at me. I set Pumpkin down and take a few steps closer.

  “You didn’t text me that you were leaving the house,” he says.

  A sassy retort starts to form, but I push it back. “Sorry. I forgot.”

  He passes a hand over his face. I study his eyes. It’s the first time in a while that I’ve seen him not looking drunk or hungover.

  “Were you with your mom?”

  I sit down across from him. “No. I was with Hayden.”

  He studies me almost as if he’s trying to see if I’m lying.

  “You haven’t met with her yet?”

  “No. Not yet.”

  “Why not?” he asks.

  I sink my front teeth into my bottom lip and shrug. Not really feeling up to explaining that I’m scared and that maybe I don’t want to hurt him.

  “Have you not spoken with her at all?”

  “She left a message on my phone.”

  He looks puzzled. “How did she get your number?”

  “Her half sister works part-time at the school.”

  “Uh, how long have…? Did she tell you about your mom?”<
br />
  No, a ghost did. “No. I found the painting and went to the gallery before she told me who she was.”

  He slumps back into the chair, looking like a man who’s lost everything. A man at rock bottom. I’d hurt more if I didn’t think he needed to be there before he asks for help.

  “Why don’t you go see her already? Are you drawing this whole thing out just to punish me?”

  His question is like a kick in the gut with steel-toed shoes. Any sentiment of empathy is shattered.

  “No. I’m not trying to punish you.”

  “You’re so angry with me. When you look at me, I see it in your eyes.”

  “Yeah, I’m angry. What you did was so wrong, but what you see in my eyes isn’t all about Mom. It’s about you. About your drinking.”

  “She hates me. She’s going to turn you against me.”

  I’m sure she can’t do as good of a job as you’re doing. “What are you so afraid of her telling me? Is there something else?”

  “No,” he says, but I’m not sure I believe him. “I ordered Chinese food. It should be here soon.”

  The next week, I spend my days at school looking out for Coach Ericson. Before driving away from school each afternoon, I send Dad a text and say I’m going to Hayden’s. Dad never texts me back. Then I drop off Kelsey and go see Hayden. He only goes to physical therapy one day a week now, so we mostly just hang out at his place or go to the donut shop.

  When we’re not trying to chase down a murderer, we’re making out. It’s wonderful, it’s awesome, but I always pull back before the clothes-off stage. Hayden finally told me that he doesn’t want to rush me. That when I’m ready, he’s ready.

  Thing is, I don’t know why I’m not ready. I mean, it’s not my first time. I slept with my ex, Carl, and he didn’t mean nearly what Hayden does.

  Then I realize neither of us have said those three little words to each other. Yes, we talked about saying them to each other in the past, but why not now? Equally disturbing is that I don’t blame him. It’s me.

  On Thursday night he, his mom, and I went out to eat, and then we all went car shopping for Hayden. He got a brand-new gray Toyota Corolla.

  When Hayden went to the bathroom at the dealership, she turned to me and said, “Thank you. I knew you’d be what saved him. The way you saved me when he was in the coma.”

  She hugs me, and I hug her back. I think she knows that Hayden and I are more than friends, but no one has come out and said it.

  Right after we get back to Hayden’s house, she tries to hand me a check for getting Hayden to therapy and helping him study. I hand it right back. She argues, but I put my foot down.

  As Hayden walks me to his car that night, he says, “You should have taken the money. You really were here for me.”

  “It wasn’t a big deal. Plus, any of your friends would have been happy to do it. They care about you.” And yeah, I’m talking about Jacob. While he’s finally stopped bugging me about why Hayden won’t see him, I haven’t stopped bugging Hayden to make amends or to at least talk to Jacob. “It’s not going to go away,” I tell him. “And I know it’s eating at you.”

  He looks me right in the eyes and says, “You can’t push me to take this step until you take it with your mom.”

  “That’s not fair,” I say, but I can’t get angry. He’s right. It’s time. Past time I face this. I just gotta find my nerve, because I lost it. I’ve looked under my bed, in my closet, even in the floorboards of my Mustang. It’s nowhere to be found.

  Friday night, Hayden and I are going on our first official date. And Kelsey is spending the evening with Dex at his house. She comes over after school, and we crash on my bed and pretend both of us aren’t boy nervous.

  “Why can’t you guys come over to Dex’s? Make it less awkward for me.”

  “I think Hayden picked out a movie,” I say. After a few minutes of talking about school, I’m the first one to admit I’m panicking. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me!” I flop back on my mattress. “We get to that point where things should happen, and then…I shut down.”

  Kelsey sits up, crosses her legs, and stares at me. “Maybe you’re not as attracted to the real Hayden as you were the spirit Hayden. The whole ghost thing could have been what turned you on to him! Like bad boy versus good boy. Dead versus alive.”

  “Are you crazy?” I pop up. “No. I look at him and I melt. At night, when I’m alone, he’s all I can think about. And he’s ten times more attractive now than he was!”

  She holds up a hand. “Chill. I was just putting the worst-case scenario out there first. I have a few other possibilities.”

  I exhale and drop back on my headboard. “Okay. What are they?”

  “Maybe you’re scared.” She bites down on her bottom lip. “Like I am.” Her words come out sincere. “I know you were hurt when Carl started dating only a few weeks after you left. Maybe that scared you more than you know and now you’re afraid to love someone. Afraid they’ll walk out on you or yank your heart out and feed it to a Rottweiler.”

  I let that reasoning crawl around my head and heart a second. “That’s not it, either,” I say. “Yeah, Carl hurt me, but even then I knew it wasn’t true love. I was more upset with Shala, my ex-best friend, than I was with him.”

  “So that’s why you won’t sleep with me,” Kelsey says in humor.

  We both laugh, but the humor fades quickly.

  Kelsey holds up three fingers. “Okay, third and last possibility. You need to close a few doors before you open up another one.”

  “Huh?” I ask.

  “Metaphorically. You’ve got a lot of open issues. Your mom. Hunting down a murderer. Things with your dad. That’s a lot of crap in your litter box. Maybe you need to scoop some out.” She sighs. “Which is another metaphor. A bad one, I know. What I mean is you need to solve something before you begin something.”

  While her analogy feels a little off, it’s like I just heard the hammer hit the nail. I know she’s right. And her number-two reason isn’t that wrong, either. Though it’s not about Carl or Shala. This is about being abandoned and done wrong by the people I should have been able to trust. It even kind of explains why I went bonkers with the whole Brandy issue. His needing time made me feel as if he was about to abandon me. Then when I thought he’d been seeing Brandy the same time as me, I felt like another person I loved hadn’t been honest with me.

  I let out a deep breath of angst. I need to meet Mom. I need to find my nerve. I need to scoop the poop out of my litter box.

  I look at Kelsey. “You make a damn good shrink.” I hug her. “Now about you and Dex.”

  “I’m okay,” she lies.

  “No, you’re not.” I grab her hand. “Promise me that you won’t shut Dex out again. If he tries to kiss you, kiss him back. Take a chance. You know, if I’ve learned anything dealing with spirits, it’s that life is short. And I think we end up regretting more of the things we don’t do than the things we do. Give Dex a chance. He may not end up being the one. But he really likes you.”

  Right then, the temperature in the room goes cold. Kelsey gets her wide-eyed there’s-a-ghost-here look. And she’s right.

  Bessie appears, standing by the door. My next breath comes with her herbal scent.

  Kelsey then turns to me. “It’s my grandmother, isn’t it?”

  I nod.

  Bessie takes one little step forward. “Tell her I said you’re right about that boy.”

  I smile. “She says I’m right about Dex.”

  Bessie continues, “Tell her I love her and I’m so proud of her.”

  My heart tightens with emotion. “She says she loves you and is so proud of you.”

  “I love you, too.” Kelsey’s green eyes get a teary shine. “You were always there for me. My safety net. You were my home even when I didn’t live with you. The place I felt the safest. I miss my home.” Her voice shakes.

  “You are going to be fine,” Bessie says. “You are strong, have
a good heart, and are smart. You are going to be there for your mom. She’s a work in progress, but it’s going to be a lot smoother from here on out. And you’ll be there for your sister. She’s going to be so enamored of you.”

  I tell her what Bessie says.

  “It’s a girl?” Kelsey asks and smiles.

  “Yes.” Bessie’s smile is big and bright, and she looks at me. “Tell her to close her eyes and see me. See me pouring her lemonade. See me hugging her. See me tucking her into bed.”

  I translate. Kelsey does it, and a smile as big as Bessie’s appears on her face.

  “Any time you need me. I’m right there,” Bessie says. “I’ll always be right there.”

  That afternoon, I’m coming down the stairs to go to Hayden’s for our big date when Dad walks in. “Hey,” he says.

  I’ve barely seen him, but I’ve texted him every day to tell him when I’d be out of the house. I even called Ms. Duarte to make sure he was going to work. She assured me he was. That made me feel a little better.

  “Where are you going?” he asks as if he notices I’m more dressed up. I even put on makeup.

  “To Hayden’s. I was about to text you.”

  “You’re seeing a lot of him,” he says. “Is he your boyfriend?”

  “Yeah,” I say. For one second I’m concerned he’s going to disapprove, but that second passes.

  “Is he a good guy?” I see a bit of my old dad for the first time. I want so badly to grasp hope, but I’m scared.

  “Yeah.”

  “He respects you?”

  “Completely.”

  He nods. I swallow, and while I’m scared this might upset him, I feel as if he deserves to know.

  “I’m going to see Mom tomorrow.”

  His eyes widen with what looks like fear. “Do you…want me to go with you?”

  “No,” I say. “I think it should be just us.”

  He nods. I nod. Then I pick up my keys and purse from the counter and walk out. I haven’t shut the door when I hear him. “I love you, Riley.”

  I want so badly to turn around and say it back, but just like I can’t say it to Hayden, I can’t say it to Dad. I just pray tomorrow fixes this.