In Place of Never

by Julie Anne Lindsey

Dad’s voice boomed behind me. “Mercy? Who’s this young man?” His voice hitched on the word “young.” Cross was at least eighteen, maybe twenty.

  “Uh.” I turned to face the crowd gathering behind me.

  Pru’s snide smile irked me. “Yeah, Mercy. Who’s your friend?”

  I squirmed though I hadn’t done anything wrong. Not unless unwittingly consorting and receiving flowers from mysterious traveling-sideshow men counted as a crime. Still, Dad wouldn’t be happy if he knew I’d spoken to Cross, especially if he recognized him from the banner outside Red’s. I shot a pleading glance at the stranger on my porch.

  “I’m Cross.” A rivulet of rain dropped from his bangs and swiveled over his forehead.

  Jason’s parents elbowed past me with Jason in tow. The cloud of perfume and cologne was enough to knock me aside, if I hadn’t moved willingly. Cross stepped away as they passed him on the porch. His guarded eyes swept over them, moving from one person to the next, like a scientist in a lab. The evaluating gaze caught in a few places before moving on to the next specimen.

  Jason’s mom looked Cross over with appreciation before turning to Dad. “I can see why you were so concerned about your daughter and my Jason. He’s clearly the biggest problem your ‘morally upright’ daughters have.” She formed air quotes around Dad’s words.

  The four of us stood in silence as Jason’s parents packed him in the car and reversed down our driveway.

  Pru edged closer to Cross and me. She folded her arms, her drama already forgotten. “Why did you have Mercy’s wallet?”

  I straightened my stance and spun on Pru, turning my back on the mysterious guy on our porch. My family’s long-stagnant emotions were on high for a bunch of reasons, none of which had anything to do with him. “I lost my wallet today when I went to see Faith and Mom.” Apparently.

  Cross sidestepped into my periphery. He looked at me. “I found the wallet in a gutter on Main Street. I used the address on the license to return it.”

  I swallowed hard. Oh, thank goodness. No mention of our brief introduction earlier. I breathed easier. “Thank you.”

  “I didn’t look at anything else.”

  “What?” I turned to face him and opened the wallet. It hadn’t occurred to me anything might be missing.

  “If it was my wallet, I’d worry someone went through it.” His voice was low and smooth. “I didn’t. I only touched the license.”

  Dad clapped one hand over Pru’s shoulder and pulled her away from the door. He dragged her around behind him and clasped his free hand on the doorjamb. “Thank you very much for returning my daughter’s wallet. I’m sorry if this seems rude, but we’re in the middle of something I feel I need to finish.”

  Cross nodded. “Of course. Sorry for the intrusion.” His gaze dropped to me and lingered. “Have a good day.”

  Dad closed the door in Cross’s face and gave me a warning look. The warning could’ve been for so many things. I decided it best to wait in my room and see if Pru needed anything. Walking through the bedroom I’d shared with Faith had rocked something loose in my heart. I’d been so busy mourning the loss of my big sister, I’d forgotten Pru needed one as much as I did.

  The yelling began before I closed my bedroom door. I stuffed earbuds back into my ears and flopped onto the bed. Holding the wallet over my face, I checked the pockets and creases for all the things I’d hidden in the folds.

  I wiggled my license free. Cross had said it was the only thing he’d touched. He’d kept my secret about meeting him today. Appreciation burned in my chest. Dad had had a rough enough day without knowing I’d spoken with two of the Lovells. Did Cross understand how much he’d saved me with that omission? I owed him a thank-you. Not that I’d talk to him again, but still.

  I ran a thumb over my license. I was young in the picture, taken almost two years ago. Sad. Heavier. Soon, I’d be eighteen. Older than Faith. My fingers brushed over something stuck to the backside and I turned my license over. A folded sticky note with the Lovell logo and Cross’s name etched in rough pen strokes clung to the thick plastic ID. Beneath his name was a phone number.

  Chapter 3

  An Invitation

  No one left the house all day. After three years of politely avoiding one another, Dad and Pru had a head-on collision, and I was stuck as their unwilling spectator. Dad lectured Pru on the values of purity until his voice gave out and he went for a glass of water. His heavy footfalls reverberated through the house on his way to the kitchen. He commanded me to go to my room and I jumped.

  “I’m in my room!”

  Who needed the Lovell’s Traveling Sideshow? We had enough drama to charge admission at Pastor Porter’s house and it was loud. Not even my bootleg Beats could drown out Pru’s screaming and door slamming after Dad called the church camp and tried enrolling her. Lucky for Pru, it was late in the season and the cabins were full through the end of summer. Camp Purity filled up fast. I’d avoided camp, but Faith had gone twice and relayed the horrors of gender segregation, modest apparel in sweltering temperatures, and no air-conditioning. The camp was located across the river in Ohio and it was a no-cell-phone, no-Wi-Fi, be-still-and-appreciate-what-God created kind of camp. Pru wouldn’t have survived.

  The screaming went on for hours. I hoped Dad’s heart would hold up. This was the worst day he’d had in years, and he didn’t look too good. If he stroked out on Pru and me, we were in trouble. No parents. No local family. I’d have to skip college and stay with Pru until she graduated. I couldn’t handle that.

  For dinner, Dad ordered a pizza no one ate. He sat across from Pru with flushed cheeks and a frustration-creased forehead. I recognized this face. He wore the expression when he wrote his sermons. Dad was plotting.

  Pru refused eye contact. She’d screwed up big-time but, in her defense, it was nice having Dad home all day, even if it was to make sure she didn’t leave.

  When we were excused from the table, I stuck the pizza in the refrigerator and went back to my room. I stayed there searching for information on Cross. I couldn’t find anything on the Lovells’ website indicating his full name or his part in their show. News articles and Yelps about the sideshow didn’t call anyone by name. Maybe Cross was his last name. I traced a fingertip over the number scrawled on the little sticky note. The answers I sought waited on the other side of those ten digits. All I had to do was dial.

  The sudden squealing drone of power tools purred and cried downstairs. The hair on my arms stood at attention. Pru’s screams began anew.

  “What the hell are you doing?” She pounded her fist against the stairwell.

  I pulled to a stop on the landing above her floor. Dad stood before her with a power tool, pinching and releasing the trigger. Goggle straps wound around his thick sandy hair and gripped his forehead. He lowered the plastic glasses over narrowed eyes and turned the screwdriver to Pru’s door.

  I slapped a palm over my mouth and dropped into a more comfortable position.

  Pru shoved Dad’s shoulder. “Stop!” She pounded on his back, stormed into her room and back to his side. Nothing fazed him.

  A few seconds later, Dad lifted his hand. A set of screws lay in his open palm. Pru screamed. Dad pocketed the screws and turned back to the door. I scrunched my nose against the dry scent of sawdust filling the air. Two handfuls of screws later, Pru landed on her knees beside Dad.

  I rested my chin in my hands. Whatever the rest of the town was up to today, it didn’t compare to the action at the Porter home. We hadn’t been this loud in years. It was as if a sinkhole had swallowed our entire house. Poof! Right through the looking glass.

  Pru sobbed. “I am so super amazingly sorry, Daddy. Please don’t do this.”

  I rolled my eyes. Oh boy.

  Dad wiped his forehead with a handkerchief. He scrubbed the cloth over the back of his neck and stuffed it into his pocket.

  I hadn’t seen Dad in parent mode for so long, I’d forgotten how form
idable he was when provoked. Faith had loved to provoke. Did Pru remember those days? She was only twelve when Faith died. I’d assumed she’d slept through all the hoopla when Faith broke curfew, snuck out, and got caught, or kissed her dates good night too long on the front porch. Seeing Pru in action made it hard to believe she hadn’t taken notes back then.

  Dad faced the door. “Move.”

  Pru scurried up the short flight of steps and collapsed at my knees. “Can you believe him?”

  Kind of. Yeah.

  A few creaks and groans later, paint chips popped off the hinges and speckled the hallway floor. Dad wrenched the door away from the frame and dragged it down the steps.

  Pru growled and slapped the wall. “He took my effing door.”

  She’d lost the battle, but the war was only beginning. She chased Dad downstairs, claiming injustice, misquoting the right to privacy act and fabricating a slew of other broken laws before pounding back up the steps to her room and slamming her closet door a hundred times.

  Who knew a little premarital nudity would bring Dad back to life?

  There might be hope for us yet.

  * * * *

  I woke several hours later with a jolt. Limbs of the old oak outside my window clattered against the glass. Wind bent younger trees over like brown-and-green candy canes in our yard.

  My stomach ached and growled. I picked my way to the kitchen for a bite of cold pizza. Pru lay still in her bed. She looked peaceful for the first time all day. The door to Dad’s room was open, but he wasn’t there.

  Our television flickered blue light through the first floor, illuminating a giant set of cowbells hung over the front door. A West Virginia alarm system. Funny. Dad’s recliner blocked the back door. He snored loudly from a fully reclined position. His fleece blanket covered one leg and draped onto the floor. His Bible rose and fell on his chest.

  I rearranged the blanket over Dad’s chest and legs and pulled a small glass wedged between the cushion and arm of his chair free so it wasn’t crushed when he straightened the chair in the morning. A black cap appeared beneath the glass. Something else was crammed deeper down. I wiggled it free and stared. Blackberry brandy. Huh. I pressed both his secrets back into place and covered them with the blanket. I guess today had taken a toll on both of them.

  I freed a slice of pizza from the fridge and headed back to my room. A slippery idea formed with every step. Dad was asleep on brandy. Pru had thrown a fit equivalent to a marathon. She’d sleep until noon. The doors were barricaded. No one would check on me anytime soon.

  I chewed the pizza without tasting it. Maybe the solitude was a gift. I’d be reckless to waste an opportunity I’d waited on for so long. I wrapped the pizza in a paper towel and tossed it in the bathroom trash.

  I scrolled through the contacts in my phone where I’d added Cross’s number. Midnight was too late to call a stranger, so I sent a text.

  “R U up?”

  I dropped my phone on my desk and mentally kicked myself. Well, I’d never sleep now. At least he wouldn’t know it was me.

  The phone buzzed.

  “Yes.”

  My heart thundered. Holy crap. He was up. Now what? I rubbed my palms together.

  The phone buzzed again. I snatched it off the desk.

  “Hungry?”

  I dashed my thumbs against the screen.

  “No, this is Mercy.”

  Buzz.

  “I know.”

  He knew? How could he possibly know? I shook my head. Showmen. It was all an act. I probably could’ve said I was Elvis or Prince Harry and he would’ve played it off like he’d known all along.

  “You like bonfires?”

  I eyeballed the window. He’d be lucky to light a candle with all the rain we’d had. Even if they traveled with dry firewood, the wind would put out a bonfire before it started.

  “When?”

  The phone grew heavy in my hand. I was so incredibly stupid.

  “I’ll pick you up in 10.”

  “No!”

  “No?”

  “I can’t. Sorry. Thanks for asking.”

  Gah! I was such a complete and utter spaz. What if this guy was a lunatic? What if the Lovells were horrible people, and I’d just asked one of them to deliver me to the lair? I tossed the phone away and marched in a tiny circle with my arms covering my head. I’d get caught and Dad would kill me or have that stroke I’d worried about earlier. He thought Faith had snuck out to meet the Lovells. If he caught me doing the same thing, and he survived the shock, he could go from distant and uninvolved to catatonic. Not good. Pru definitely needed Dad present and aware. Guilt twisted through me. Dad was wrong about Faith meeting the Lovells that night, but I couldn’t tell him.

  The phone vibrated. Okay. Be calm. I picked the phone up and looked with one eye.

  “Everything ok?”

  “Yep.”

  “Tomorrow night?”

  No. Not tomorrow night. This was my chance. I tugged my lower lip between my thumb and first finger. This was a really bad idea. A really terrible idea. I marched in place, praying for divine reasoning. I wanted to ask the Lovells about Faith more than anything in the world. A tiny crack split the side of my calloused heart. Hope was powerful like that.

  I pulled in a long breath and tapped the phone. If a car pulled up to my house at midnight, Dad would know. Cars were big and loud and identifiable. People were small, dark shadows. Stealthy.

  “Tonight’s better. Can we walk instead?”

  Jeez. I sounded like an idiot. The storm’s aftermath raged outside and I wanted to walk. I didn’t have a choice.

  Embarrassment touched my cheeks. Cross didn’t have to sneak away. Curfews and preachers were probably alien concepts to him, but he’d rolled into my world this morning. I couldn’t just waltz out at twelve fifteen for a bonfire with complete strangers, especially not the Lovells. Never the Lovells. Muscles tightened in my chest.

  Faith. Wasn’t that a good enough reason to go? I could ask all those questions I’d waited three years to ask. Maybe fourteen-year-old me was wise to think the Lovells had answers. Maybe current me was overthinking. Maybe I deserved some answers before I left this town.

  Moments ticked past. I pulled on my favorite jeans and hoodie before the phone buzzed again.

  “Anywhere special you want to go?”

  Yeah. I wanted to question his friends. I tapped the back of my phone. How could I answer that?

  “Bonfire works.”

  “Should I throw rocks at your window when I get there?”

  “Ha-ha.”

  Click. Scratch. Click. The branches tickled my window. My heart stopped then sprinted. Only the wind.

  I dragged a brush through my hair. What was I thinking? The whole scenario was insane. I unrolled red-and-white-striped knee socks and pulled them on under my jeans. I owed Cross a thank you for earlier. I’d meet him outside, thank him, ask a few questions and then move on with my life. Simple. Not a big deal.

  “Ready?”

  I clutched my phone. No. Not at all. I hadn’t climbed off the roof in more than a year. The window had once been my nightly escape route. The fresh air and silent streets helped me sort things out. My walks normally ended at Faith’s grave. No matter how well I slept during the day, nighttime sent my mind into overdrive. I’d fixate on every awful possibility for Faith’s last night. Every gruesome scenario was my fault. I should’ve stopped her.

  “Yeah.”

  I stuffed my feet into the muddiest shoes in my room and opened the window.

  Ding! The sound cut through howling wind. I held my breath and scanned the yard below. My phone was on vibrate.

  Cross emerged from the shadows, waving his phone like a beacon in the dark. “Hey.”

  I stretched a shaky leg over the window ledge and took one last look at my room. This was it. I swiveled around and hopped onto the mudroom roof. My window slid shut with a clatter.
Leaves bustled over the shingles and my feet. I scooted along the rain-slicked roof to a wide oak limb and grabbed ahold. Water rained over me as I swung my body down. Every leaf in the tree dripped with two days’ excess. My tiptoes scraped a lower limb and I tested it with my weight. A gust of wind nudged the tree, but the limbs held their place. Using the overhead limb to guide me, I walked toward the tree’s two-hundred-year-old trunk where I’d nailed three hunks of wood as a makeshift ladder. The only thing keeping my mind off the stranger below was my intense desire not to slip and land in the muddy grass at his feet.

  I breathed easier as my right toe touched the earth. A warm hand curled under my elbow, for support, I hoped. Marching willfully to my abduction was a move too dumb to contemplate. I had to trust my gut this time. He’d covered for me earlier. I owed him a thank you. To my relief, Cross stepped away the moment my other foot reached the grass.

  He looked taller in the moonlight. Paler and more foreboding. My room looked a hundred miles away.

  I dusted my palms together. “You got here fast.”

  Cross shoved his fingers into his back pockets. “Small town.”

  The wind gathered leaves and twigs at our feet and grass fell over the tops of my shoes. I squinted through the misty wind and pulled a swath of hair off my face. “You have a bonfire going in this mess?”

  Cross lifted his gaze from my arm to my eyes and shrugged. “Sort of.”

  I pulled the cuffs of both sleeves down to my palms and folded my fingertips over, anchoring the material in place. This night wasn’t about my secrets.

  I tilted my head and looked into his eyes for a sign I shouldn’t go. He seemed at ease in the dark, windy yard. Of course, it would take a colossal moron, or someone the size of Anton, to abduct Cross. He had nothing to worry about.

  “Thanks for not telling my dad we met earlier today. He’s a little overprotective.” Lies. Dad was gone. Absent. Uninvolved until eight hours ago, but unloading our whole ugly story with my thank-you seemed wrong. “Why did you invite me out tonight?”

  He shifted his weight, foot to foot. “I don’t know.”