Secrets of Redemption Box Set

by Michele Pariza Wacek

  “Nothing,” Chrissy shouted. “She says nothing because I’m fine. Will you just leave me alone? I don’t want you here.”

  She sounded like the old Chrissy again, which I would have welcomed if it meant putting a few pounds on her.

  “Okay,” I said quickly, taking a step back. Chrissy flopped away from me, facing the wall, and pulled the covers up over her head.

  I took a moment to pick up the bottle of ibuprofen that had fallen to the floor, placing it on the night table, along with the washcloth and the glass of water, before leaving the room.

  Closing the door, I pondered my options. Do I keep trying, even when she screams at me? Is that the way to get through to her? Or was it better to respect her wishes?

  Maybe I needed to talk to an expert. I had no idea how to deal with a teenager, especially one as troubled as Chrissy. And the last thing I wanted to do was to make anything worse for her.

  Oscar padded out of the bedroom to sit in front of me, wrapping his tail around himself and stared at me impatiently. Time for breakfast. Looking outside, I could see the dark of night starting to turn to the grey of dawn. Maybe Oscar was right, and I should just stay up.

  I headed downstairs, Oscar trailing me, to make coffee. I could use this time to review my notes and see if I missed capturing anything.

  Between my dream and Chrissy’s outburst, I was starting to feel a lot more urgency around getting my memory back.

  After feeding Oscar and pouring myself a cup of coffee, I focused on my notes, looking for something, anything, that sounded familiar that might jolt my brain into cooperation.

  But there was nothing.

  I rubbed my bleary eyes as the grey outside lightened further, transforming the sky into a rosy glow. Clearly, I was going to have to widen my search. Maybe tonight I could talk to Daniel ...

  Oh crap! Tonight was my date/not date. And here I was, sitting in the kitchen after a night of broken sleep. I probably had huge bags and black circles under my eyes.

  Argh.

  I took a break to make breakfast burritos, with plenty of bacon, chorizo, and cheese, to up the calories as much as possible. My thinking was if I couldn’t get Chrissy to sit down and eat with me, I likely could press an already-made burrito into her hand as she dashed out the door.

  I had just finished popping them into the oven to stay warm when I heard Chrissy clatter down the stairs. She poked her head into the kitchen. “Gotta go. Bye.”

  “Wait,” I yelled, running after her. I think I startled her, because she was standing in the middle of the hallway, cautiously watching me. I snatched her bag out of her hand before she could react.

  “You have to eat first,” I said, swinging the backpack in front of me over her squawk of protest.

  “I have to go. Margot is waiting for me.”

  “You can tell Margot to come in and have a breakfast burrito with you,” I said, strapping her backpack on my back as I took a plate out of the cupboard. “In fact, I’d welcome that. I’d like to have a word with her myself.”

  Chrissy hovered by the kitchen door, anxiously watching me as I filled her plate with two breakfast burritos, a few extra slices of bacon, and slices of avocado and tomato. Like before, she was wearing the same stained tee shirt and faded, ripped jean shorts she’d had on yesterday. Her hair was uncombed and hung in a tangled mess around her face. She probably hadn’t brushed her teeth or washed her face. And when was the last time she showered? Or washed her clothes? I wished I had thought to toss her clothes in the washing machine after she went to bed last night.

  It appeared Margot and I had a lot to discuss.

  I deposited the plate on the table and gestured. “The sooner you eat, the sooner you can leave.” Chrissy eyed me suspiciously. For a moment, I thought she was going to demand I return her backpack to her and if I refused, throw a fit but instead, she docilely sat at the table and picked up a fork.

  I turned away, so she wouldn’t see my triumphant smile as I collected my own plate and seated myself at the table with her.

  She ate in silence, head bent, clumps of matted hair hiding her face.

  “It’s been awhile since I made breakfast burritos,” I said conversationally, breaking the silence and hoping to finally connect with her, even in this tiny way. “Remember, the last time we had breakfast burritos? We were still in New York and I burned the bacon and the smoke alarm went off. And it wouldn’t shut off! Your father practically had to break it to turn it off. And the smell! It took forever to get the smell of burned bacon out of the kitchen.” I chuckled at the memory, although at the time, it hadn’t been funny. Stefan and I hadn’t been getting along as it was and he hadn’t been the slightest bit amused. Chrissy had been mortified and made sure I knew it. For myself, I had made a silent commitment to teach myself some basic cooking skills at minimum, thinking that would somehow bring us together as a family. Boy was I wrong.

  “You’re not my mother,” Chrissy said softly, interrupting my thoughts. Her voice was so soft and I was so deep in my memory that I almost missed it.

  “What did you say?”

  “You’re not my mother,” she said, her voice sharp and bitter. “And, I’m not your daughter.”

  I felt like she had slapped me. “I know that,” I said, reminding myself to be the adult and not allow the hurt to bleed into my voice. Getting through to Chrissy was the only thing that mattered. “Do you think I’m trying to replace your mother? Because I’m not ...”

  “I don’t know what you’re trying to do,” she suddenly shouted, jumping up from her seat with so much force that it fell backward. “But I have a mother. And a father. And you’re divorcing my father so you’re not even my stepmother anymore. You’re nobody.”

  I struggled to swallow the lump that had risen in my throat. “Is that why you’re upset? Because I’m not your stepmother anymore?”

  “No! You’re not listening to me. You’re no one. Do you get it? You’re nothing to me.”

  I opened my mouth to say something. To tell her I was trying to rebuild a relationship with her. That I wanted to help her. That I’d like to be her friend.

  But nothing came out.

  She leaned over and snatched up her knapsack from the floor by my feet. “Just stop,” she said. “Stop inviting me over. Just stop it. I don’t want to come. I don’t want anything to do with you.”

  “Okay,” I said quietly. “If that’s what you want.”

  “It is.” She whirled away, but not before I saw a sheen of wetness by her eyes.

  Was she crying?

  I heard the heavy thud of running footsteps in the hallway, accompanied by the slamming of the front door.

  I sat in the quiet, staring at my half-eaten breakfast and listening to the ticking of the grandfather clock.

  She’s a teenager, I told myself. Not only that, she’s a sick teenager. Not only that, she’s a sick teenager who has been abandoned by both of her parents.

  Of course she’s going to lash out unexpectedly.

  But no matter how much I tried to talk myself out of it, a part of me still hurt.

  Sighing, I started cleaning up, noting that if nothing else, Chrissy had eaten most of her breakfast.

  At least there was that.

  Chapter 18

  It was official—I had nothing to wear.

  I stood hopelessly in the middle of my bedroom, surrounded by pretty much every piece of clothing I owned.

  What do you wear to a date that’s not a date? Especially considering that I hadn’t figured out how I felt about dating, or men in general, or Daniel in particular ...

  Argh.

  Maybe I should start with what I knew wasn’t a good idea. For instance, a dress. While yes, The Terrace certainly had the atmosphere to warrant one and I had some really cute summer dresses that weren’t that formal, a dress definitely
implied ‘date.’

  I hung my dresses back up.

  Shorts seemed too casual and it was too hot for jeans.

  Ugh.

  I finally settled on white leggings and a flowing, asymmetrical green tunic that brought out the green in my eyes and the red highlights in my hair. I finger-combed my hair, letting it go as wild as it wanted.

  Big silver hoops, heels, and a little make-up.

  I studied the effect. Did it scream ‘date’? Too sexy?

  I exchanged the heels for a cute little pair of gold flats. Then I exchanged the silver hoops for gold ones.

  Better. Although I still had doubts.

  I deliberately turned my back to the mirror and put the rest of my clothes away. No, I wasn’t going to second guess myself … for the hundredth time.

  Besides, it was getting late, and I needed to go.

  I headed down the stairs to grab my purse, trying to ignore the jittery, exhausted feeling inside. I tried calling Margot after Chrissy left, but had gotten her voicemail. I left a message, and then went to take a nap, bringing my phone with me in the hope of her calling me back.

  Alas, that didn’t happen. Nor was I able to quiet my racing mind enough to fall asleep.

  Instead, I cleaned Chrissy’s room—except, I reminded myself, it wasn’t Chrissy’s room anymore. It was a generic guest room now, ready for anyone who spent the night.

  Then I spent some time in the garden, while nervously drinking about a gallon of coffee. I also left another message for Margot.

  Yeah, no wonder I was wired and tired.

  Well, there wasn’t much I could do about it now except hope I wouldn’t embarrass myself too much.

  My heart sank as I pulled into the parking lot. I couldn’t believe how many cars were there. Did that mean the restaurant was packed? Oh God, please don’t let me run into anyone I know. I really don’t want to try and explain myself.

  I found a spot near the back, which for some strange reason, made me feel more secure—like I’d be able to make a better, faster getaway from there, if the situation called for it. I found myself obsessively searching the cars for Daniel’s as I wove my way to the front.

  But what type of car did he drive when he wasn’t on duty? I could only remember the cop car and surely he wouldn’t be driving that. Because he wasn’t on duty.

  Or was he?

  Maybe I should have worn shorts after all.

  Either way, there was no cop car in the parking lot. I didn’t know if that made me feel better or worse.

  The restaurant was dimly lit. At least in the lobby, there was no sign of Daniel. Did that mean he wasn’t here? Or was I supposed to go find him? I imagined myself wandering through the eating area and, with my luck, running into someone I knew who would start asking me a bunch of questions I didn’t want to answer.

  Why did I say “yes” to this?

  As I stood there shifting my weight from one foot to the other, the hostess smiled at me. She was young, probably not much older than Chrissy, with long, straight, dark hair, liquid doe eyes, and an adorable smile.

  Clearly, she was waiting for me to do what other, normal people did, which was come up to the stand and speak to her. Part of me wanted to make a mad dash for the door right then and there, but I forced myself to walk up to her.

  “Uh, I’m meeting someone,” I said, feeling like an idiot. This doesn’t have to be such a big deal. You’re just meeting Daniel for dinner. It doesn’t have to mean anything more than that.

  “Oh, are you Becca?” she asked brightly. Now that I was closer, I saw how tiny she was, barely coming up to my neck. I felt like some sort of monster towering over her.

  I nodded, not trusting my voice. Cripes Becca, get it together.

  She scooped up a menu and gestured for me to follow her. I tried to keep my head down as I walked through the restaurant, praying I didn’t see anyone I recognized.

  She led me to a booth hidden in the back. Daniel was already there, sipping a beer. He wore a dark-blue, short-sleeved oxford shirt that showed off his broad chest and brought out the blue in his eyes. When he saw me, he smiled, and my heart stopped.

  I so didn’t want this to be a date. Maybe if I just kept telling myself it wasn’t a date, that would keep it from turning into one.

  “I thought it would be less noticeable if I was already seated rather than wait for you,” he said after I got myself settled into the booth. “Plus, I wanted to get a booth in the back.”

  “Makes sense,” I said. My hands were sweating, and I wiped them off on my leggings. Now that I was here, I didn’t know what to say or where to look even. I wished I had a glass of wine. That would at least give me something to focus on other than Daniel.

  On cue, the waitress appeared, asking me for my drink order. I gratefully ordered a glass of white wine and she disappeared.

  “So, what did you want to talk to me about?” I asked as soon as we were alone.

  He raised one eyebrow. “What? No small talk?”

  “Small talk? So this is a date?”

  “So small talk only happens on dates?”

  “Ah ...” Flustered, I started fussing with my place setting, unfolding my snowy white linen napkin that matched the tablecloth and placing it on my lap. Everything was white on the table, from the salt-and-pepper shakers to the white candle in the hurricane lamp. The only exception was a single red rose that stood in a tall vase.

  “Sorry,” I said, finally. “I didn’t sleep well last night.”

  His eyes widened. “Did something happen? You were supposed to call me.”

  “Nothing happened,” I said quickly. “At least nothing you could have helped with.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “Maybe let me be the judge of that. What happened?”

  I didn’t particularly want to tell him. Telling him what happened felt ... intimate. Too intimate. Especially since I had no idea where this evening was going. But one look at his determined expression made it clear that I was going to have to tell him something.

  “Truly, it wasn’t anything,” I said. “I had a nightmare. Which led to a fight with Chrissy. That’s all.” I decided to skip the sleepwalking incident. That felt like we would end up going down a rabbit hole that wouldn’t serve anyone.

  His expression softened. “What was your nightmare about?”

  “Something about Aunt Charlie. I can’t really remember.” That also wasn’t completely true, but it just didn’t feel like the time to get into Jessica.

  “What about the fight?”

  I sighed. “I have no idea. Chrissy is very unhappy with me. I’m not sure why. It feels like the more I try and help her, the angrier she gets.”

  He played with his beer. “Are you going to keep at it?”

  “You really expect me not to? She’s got no one, Daniel.” I leaned forward slightly. “I’ve been trying to get in touch with Margot. I left two messages and she hasn’t called me back.”

  “She’s probably busy.”

  “I’m sure she is. Everyone’s busy. But anyone with eyes can see there’s a problem with Chrissy. I would think she would be a priority to Margot.”

  “Let me look into it.”

  I blinked. “I thought you wanted me to keep my distance.”

  A faint smile touched his lips. “If you’re defining ‘keeping your distance’ as not having her stay at the house with you, then yes. But that’s you. Not me.”

  I was touched. “Thank you, Daniel. That means a lot to me.”

  “Don’t sound so shocked.”

  “I’m not ... well, okay. I guess I am,” I admitted. “I thought you didn’t like her.”

  He rolled his eyes. “That’s immaterial. She did something very brave, which I respect the hell out of. I want to do what I can to support her and help her. I just don’t particularly thin
k it’s a good idea for you two to be together. At least, not right now.”

  I held my hands up. “If I’m not alone with her, how can I rebuild my relationship with her?”

  “Why don’t we start by letting me check in with her and Margot. Okay? Do you trust me to do that?”

  “Hmmm ...” I made of show of pondering. “Oh, all right. I’ll trust you this once. But don’t let me down.”

  Daniel rolled his eyes. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

  The waitress came by at that moment, asking us what we wanted. As I hadn’t even looked in the menu, she left for a moment while I asked Daniel what was good. He said everything, basically, but they were known for their walleye.

  When the waitress returned, we were ready, and she took our order—steak for Daniel, walleye for me, and a stuffed mushrooms appetizer.

  Once the waitress left, I reached for my wine. “So, what about you? Anything interesting happen to you today? Or are we done with small talk?”

  “Actually something interesting happened yesterday.” Daniel also reached for his beer.

  I raised my eyebrow. “Oh? Do tell.”

  “Rich called me.” His eyes carefully watched me over the mug as he took a long drink.

  So, that’s what this is about. I couldn’t decide if I was relieved or disappointed. “And how is Rich doing?”

  Daniel put his beer down. “Well, he’s not at all happy with you. But you probably knew that.”

  “To be honest, he really didn’t say much of anything to me.”

  “Wanna tell me what happened?”

  “I thought Rich already told you.”

  “I was hoping to hear your side of the story.”

  Inwardly I sighed and took another sip of wine. The waitress appeared and deposited the mushrooms on the table. I paused, waiting for her to leave.

  “You know I lost my memory of the night Jessica disappeared.”

  Daniel nodded.

  “Well, I’m trying to get it back.”

  Daniel frowned as he reached for a mushroom. “Why?”

  I looked at him in surprise. “Why? Of all people, I thought you would be excited about this. Don’t you want to question me again about that night?”