In Place of Never

by Julie Anne Lindsey

  Pru folded her arms. “What’s going on?” She looked at me.

  I shrugged.

  “Right.” She rolled her eyes and huffed.

  I turned the eggs and waited for an explanation from Dad. “Really. I have no idea. Dad?”

  He scooted our chairs around the table, making room for extras we never used or needed. “You probably noticed the signs going up around town. That godforsaken sideshow is back and we won’t stand for it. If it wasn’t bad enough they signed on for the River Festival, they came four weeks early.”

  Pru retook her seat at the table, eyes twinkling. “Who won’t stand for it?”

  Dad dipped into the basement and returned with folding chairs. “Anyone with any sense and two good eyes. Mayor Jesep, Father Frank, Sheriff Dobbs, and I are drumming up a group of townsmen to have a talk with that motley crew. Perhaps they’ll see sense and leave. If they’ve got business at the festival, they should come back then. No need to stay here all month. Nothing good will come from that.”

  I turned off the stove and pushed the eggs onto a platter. “You’re asking the Lovells to leave town?”

  “Yes.” Dad’s voice boomed with hostility.

  Pru batted wide blue eyes. “Why?”

  Dad huffed and rubbed his forehead. “They aren’t welcome here. The last time they came…” He puffed his cheeks. “The Lovells are trouble. Neither of you are to attend the River Festival this year. Until we get rid of the Lovells, you’re to avoid them completely.”

  Pru laughed. “Because they’re trouble? That’s kind of weird and vague.”

  He thumped his palms against the table and leaned near her mocking face. “Those nomads drag their hedonism, immorality, and free-for-all attitudes around the country, enticing young people into all forms of debauchery.” His rant ended with a pointed stare. At me.

  Pru scoffed. “What’d you do, Mercy?”

  “Nothing.”

  She raised her palms to the sky. “Whatever.”

  I set the platter on the table and shot her my best innocent face. I barely left the house these days and no one knew I’d slipped out last night. I’d checked on them before getting into bed. “This isn’t about me.”

  Dad pulled in a long, impatient breath. “I want you to stay away from them. Both of you. Understand me?”

  I sighed. “Dad.”

  “I mean it, Mercy. You’re forbidden from going anywhere near the Lovells. That includes the boy who returned your wallet. I saw the way he looked at you. He’s one of them and he’s off-limits for friendship and anything else he has in mind.”

  The doorbell rang and Pru sprang from her chair. “I’ll get it.”

  The crazed look in Dad’s eyes subsided. He clapped my shoulder. “Make all the breakfast we’ve got. I’ll get more groceries this afternoon.”

  The fact he realized we’d need more groceries was a shocking improvement. Maybe he’d just needed purpose all this time. Maybe I had too.

  A moment later, the mayor’s and sheriff’s voices sounded in the entryway, along with some elders from our church. I grabbed the carton of eggs from the refrigerator. The doorbell rang again and new voices entered the mix. I stopped counting at four doorbells and seven voices.

  Breakfast was ready in fifteen minutes. Scrambled eggs, biscuits, sausage links, fruit, and cheese. The offering was too small for the number of guests but would easily have fed our family for days. I slipped an apple into my hoodie pocket and cleaned up as slowly as possible. For the first time in her life, Pru volunteered to help dry dishes.

  Dad blessed the meal and the meeting. He also prayed to purge our town of the unrighteous.

  Pru elbowed me as she texted.

  I shushed her so I could eavesdrop. My phone buzzed. A new message from Pru.

  “What. The. Hell?”

  I scrubbed the frying pan a little harder. She had that question right.

  Pru tensed at my side. My phone buzzed again.

  “Did the sheriff just say the Lovells killed Faith?”

  My head snapped around.

  Sheriff Dobbs leaned both elbows on the table. A crumbled napkin dangled from his fingertips. “I’m not saying I understand what your family’s been through, but I know my family feels your pain. We’ve been through hell these last three years. Brady never got over Faith’s death. Hell, he gave up a full ride to Penn State that year. He had a future until that night. You lost a daughter, but those damn Lovells ruined my family too. Brady’s depression ruined my marriage. Mark’s as mean as a snake. We’re all changed. Those sideshow freaks need to go.” He wiped his mouth roughly with the wadded napkin. “They had a part in your Faith’s death. There’s no other explanation for it. As the sheriff in this town, I can’t sit here and treat them like guests, knowing they got away with murder.”

  The wet spatula fell from my fingertips. Suds dashed my bare feet. Pru dropped to her knees. My ears rang. Wet fingers bumped my arm as she dropped the fallen spatula into the sink behind us.

  Dad’s face went as white as the empty plate in front of him. Pru didn’t look much better.

  “Girls, may we have a moment, please? We have some tough issues to discuss.” The determined look on the sheriff’s face said this wasn’t a request.

  I followed Pru through the kitchen and family room and then out the front door.

  She sat on the steps and leaned her back against the porch railing. “Did I wake up in an alternate reality? Is this like a horrible prank or some kind of intervention? Because none of this is funny.” She rubbed her arms, despite the rising July temperatures.

  I paced the porch’s edge. “Everyone blames the Lovells for Faith’s death.”

  “Duh.” Pru twirled a streak of blue hair around one fingertip.

  I slid down the porch wall until the wooden planks stopped me. A painful epiphany jolted through my bones. All the years of gossip and nonsense. All those Gypsy-lover jokes and stupid-ass comments about spells and curses. I’d assumed they said that stuff because Faith was at the river and so were the Lovells. “Rose said Faith was at a bonfire with them. She said Faith had a couple drinks with the Lovells and a few friends.” Faith’s friends knew more than they’d told Sheriff Dobbs. Unless they’d told him more and Dad never told us. Of course he wouldn’t. He kept everything from us.

  Pru’s blue ringlet stopped midcircle. Her jaw dropped. “Excuse me? Who the heck is Rose?”

  I jumped to my feet before adrenaline shot me to the moon. “Come on. We need to talk.”

  She huffed and levered her body off the porch step. “Finally.”

  I glanced over one shoulder. Dad hadn’t told us not to leave the house today. We jogged down the steps to the sidewalk and headed for the cemetery. My heart rate settled as we moved. Fresh morning air cleared my head. I’d never gone anywhere alone with Pru before. “When did you put blue streaks in your hair?”

  “Last night. Dad didn’t notice.”

  “He will. He’ll hate them. Don’t worry.”

  She stuck out her tongue.

  I smiled.

  “Mercy, I think something’s wrong with your face.”

  I bumped into her and she stumbled. “Shut up.”

  “Hey!” She sidestepped a puddle. “Knock it off.”

  Blue hair wouldn’t be okay with her color-guard coach, but it fit her personality. “I like the blue.”

  Her eyes lit up. “You do?”

  “Yeah.”

  Pru was two and a half years younger, unfathomably prettier, and just as tall as me. Despite our age difference, she could pass easily for my age. No more pigtails and nightgowns. I’d missed a lot while hiding in my room.

  She shoved a piece of gum between her lips and waved the pack at me before pushing it back into her pocket. “Are you going to tell me what you know now?”

  We crossed the street and passed a number of shops opening their doors for business. The line at White Water Coffee spilled
through the door and onto the sidewalk. Pru waved to everyone and smiled. I dipped my head and prayed for invisibility.

  I squinted through extra-bright sunlight. After too many days of rain, the glint off puddles and store windows blinded me. Birds and children filled the sidewalk, squawking and howling. Parents pushed strollers in droves, leaving trails of toddler-dropped muffin crumbs behind them.

  A wide shadow covered Pru’s feet, and she stopped short. Mark Dobbs, my first kiss and current nemesis, blocked our path. The girl on Mark’s arm looked like a tourist in heels and hairspray. Her frozen coffee had a big red straw and an American flag on the cup.

  Mark balked. “Mercy?” He blinked, clearly stunned to see me out with Pru.

  Pru stepped in front of me. “Move, Mark.”

  “Wait. It’s not often I see the Queen of the Dark out in daylight. It’s not even Sunday.” He grimaced, as if I’d done something to offend him and not the other way around. His overtanned shoulders stuck out from beneath a ribbed black tank top, showcasing his beloved biceps. Black and white basketball shorts hung to his calves. His dad was right on two counts. Mark had changed that summer, and he was as mean as a snake.

  People stared. Pru turned red. “Move.”

  He’d jumped on the name-calling crusade when other kids said awful things about Faith. I’d withdrawn from life and he’d blamed Faith for dying. When I slid deeper into myself, dropping color guard and my friends in favor of solitude, the crusaders had taken it as an invitation and unleashed their wrath on me. Apparently, bullies had more fun picking on live targets.

  Mark turned his cocky head when the sidewalk crowd parted. Two guys in dark glasses and ball caps pressed toward us. My heart drummed, from joy or concern, I wasn’t sure. Cross arrived first. He stepped between Mark and me. Anton moved in beside Cross. Neither guy appeared to notice Mark or the girl. “Coffee?” Cross extended two cups to Pru and me.

  Pru grabbed hers with a wide smile. I accepted the other.

  Anton passed the cup in his left hand to Cross. “What’re you two lovely ladies up to this morning?” His deep baritone lifted a small smile on my cheeks. So far, Anton seemed as harmless as anyone I’d ever met but he looked like a freight train. It was kind of funny.

  “Hey.” Mark stepped around Cross, towing the blonde with him. “We were talking.”

  Cross lifted his chin a fraction of an inch. His deep-set eyes locked with mine. “You want to talk to him?”

  “Nope.”

  Anton turned on Mark with a smile. “Later, man.”

  Emotions rolled over Mark’s face. The line of people waiting at White Water Coffee gawked. How would big-talking, fat-headed Mark Dobbs handle a confrontation with someone his own size and one quite larger? A fistfight on the street before lunch? Not very impressive. Especially not when Anton inevitably handed his ass to him.

  The sign over Red’s fluttered in the wind and recognition dawned on Mark’s dumbfounded face. He threw his head back and laughed like a hyena. “Oh.” He slapped his thigh. “That’s perfect. Hysterical and really, really sad, but perfect. You always were just like your sister.” He shook his head and sauntered off, looking mighty proud of himself. “Wait till your daddy hears about this.”

  Pru squinted at me, shading her eyes with one hand. “What?”

  “Us.” Anton moved behind me, blocking the sun from Pru’s eyes. “He meant us. I knew your sister.”

  * * * *

  The four of us settled around a picnic table at the pavilion near the cemetery. Warm winds swept through the willows and cattails along the river.

  I folded my legs on the narrow bench and chipped green paint off the wooden slats with my fingernails. “Are there two other people somewhere waiting on these coffees?”

  Cross rested his elbows on the table beside me. “Nah. We were headed to your place with them.”

  Pru blew a long raspberry. “That’s not a good idea. Dad’s hosting a planning party for his how-to-run-the-Lovells-out-of-town movement.”

  Anton nodded. “That sounds about right.”

  “That’s it.” Pru set her coffee down and looked at each of our faces. “I need a whole lot of answers. I got caught with my pants down on the worst day of the year and my whole world imploded. It’s like I woke up in Wonderland this morning.”

  I smiled. It was the same thing I’d thought yesterday.

  Anton snorted, but it didn’t stop Pru’s rant.

  Pru pointed at me. “She’s smiling. I have no idea what that’s about. Dad’s lost his ever-loving mind. He thinks your sideshow somehow killed our sister. Oh, and it brings ‘trouble’ to the town.” She formed air quotes with her fingers. “He and his old-man crew are probably polishing their pitchforks as we speak. Mercy’s hanging with me on purpose and two hot guys bought us coffee. I don’t get it.” She raised both eyebrows. “Explain.”

  I filled in the details as quickly as possible, avoiding the hard words like “death” and “suicide.” I concentrated on the dash of hope that had woken me before the roosters and focused on new possibilities. Faith wasn’t coming back, but it hurt less to think I might get some answers about the night she died.

  Pru mulled over the mass amount of new information for an entire thirty seconds before her questions started again. “Dad knows Faith and her friends partied with you guys that night? Is that why he wants your family gone?”

  Cross waved one finger. “Not me. I wasn’t part of the team that year.”

  “Whatever.”

  His eyebrows crowded together.

  I bit back a laugh.

  Pru turned to Anton. “You were with her though. How much did she drink? Were you swimming? Was she? Where was her boyfriend?”

  The guilt in Anton’s eyes worried me.

  Cross shifted on the bench beside me. He tipped his coffee toward Anton. “Tell them what you told me.”

  Anton looked across the field to the cemetery. His all-black ensemble reflected his mood. He folded his hands on the table and wet his lips. “We came to town a few days early for our performances at the River Festival that year. I met Faith and some of her friends at the Festival one night. We hit it off.”

  Pru interrupted. “She had a boyfriend.”

  “Had.”

  “That’s what I said.”

  “No.” Anton squirmed. “Faith said they broke up the weekend before. She said he’d had enough waiting.” Heavy emphasis on his final word.

  A long beat of silence followed the statement.

  Pru’s eyebrows tented up. “For sex?”

  Anton averted eye contact with everyone. No big guy on earth ever looked more uncomfortable. “Yeah. I’d just lost another girlfriend, so we were pity partners.”

  Pru raised her hand. “When you say you lost another girlfriend…”

  Cross snickered. “She left the show a couple towns before yours. It happens. The kind of people who join traveling sideshows aren’t always cut out for long-term commitments. He didn’t, you know…hurt her or anything.”

  Pru nodded and raised her hand again. “And when you say pity partners…”

  “Pru!” I kicked her under the table.

  “Well.”

  Anton’s face pinked. “We complained to one another and shared a bottle of homemade wine. That’s it.”

  Cross stretched his neck and sighed. “They shared it in his camper. Alone.”

  “When you say it…”

  I lifted my hand to Pru. “Stop.” I walked around the tables to clear my head. “You were the last one to see her alive?”

  Anton shrugged. “Maybe.”

  My lungs flattened. “What maybe? Did you walk her home?”

  “No. I fell asleep.”

  Cross met me across the pavilion. “He passed out. It wasn’t his first bottle of wine that night.”

  Pru laid her hand on Anton’s arm. “You’re sad? Is it because Faith never made it home? Do you think you could�
�ve changed that?”

  “Yeah, but I didn’t know anything happened to her until last night. Mom woke us all at four, ready to hit the road by dawn. She gets these feelings sometimes, and we honor them, no matter the request. That was one of those nights.”

  Pru plucked the material of his shirtsleeve. “What kind of feeling?”

  My breathing stopped. His face twisted with emotion I couldn’t name.

  “Well?” Pru pressed.

  Anton looked at Cross before answering. “Mom gets weird sometimes. She gets happy out of the blue and something good will happen, or she gets sick and withdrawn or she aches. At times like those, we pull up camp and leave.”

  “Is she psychic?”

  “Pru!” The venomous look on Anton’s brother’s face at the campfire rushed into my mind. He’d been livid, convinced I’d come to ask them about Gypsy curses or something. “Stop.” Maybe there was a reason to ask.

  Pru jerked her hand from Anton’s arm and grabbed her cell phone. “Dad’s calling. What do I do?”

  Anton, Cross, and I responded in sync. “Answer it.”

  She walked a few paces away and answered.

  I caught Anton’s attention. “Sorry. She doesn’t know not to ask.” Not that it would stop her.

  Anton examined his pant leg, smoothing his palms over the material. “It’s okay. Tom’s the one who gets bent about our ancestry. I know it’s weird we travel and live privately in a world where the population shares its collective breath online. We’re a dying breed.”

  My cheeks heated. Cross had asked me to be his friend so he’d know someone in town, but I hadn’t understood the stakes. My gaze drifted to Cross’s careful stare. A month must feel like a lifetime to people without roots. I was certain in that moment. I wanted to be Cross’s friend.

  “I think it’s honorable your family carries on the traditions of your lineage. I barely know my family outside West Virginia.”

  Anton adjusted his position at the table. “It’s not a tradition as much as a compulsion. Roma travel because they come from a life and time when they didn’t have homes. They traveled Europe in search of work. When the work dried up, they moved on. My parents traveled with their grandparents. They have hundreds of stories from their childhood and they try to recreate that time for us. They don’t care how much everything else changes. Our parents came to America as teens, already married. When they arrived, some family members found jobs and bought property. A few couldn’t stop traveling.”