“Like your parents.”
“They were too young to buy property. We traveled with my grandparents and a circus family from Indiana when I was young. Eventually, we branched out on our own, but my parents never gave up on the notion of following the work. They never bought a home. Never settled.” He lifted tired eyes to the sky. “We are travelers because it’s our way.”
I breathed in the sunny summer air, accepting the resignation in Anton’s voice. He didn’t like their ways, but he loved his family. The divide between Dad and me came to mind. Maybe it was the humidity from extended rains, but the air seemed heavier, headier, kissed by wildflowers and thick with possibilities.
Cross pressed a hand against my shoulder. “Pru’s taking all the information pretty well. How are you doing?”
I pursed my lips. “Our dad blames the Lovells for Faith’s death. For Mom. For the mess we became after that night. The sheriff and some other town officials do too. I had no idea until this morning. I’m not going to lie. I’m confused. This is hard to process. You should’ve heard them.”
“Hey.” Anton twisted free from the picnic table. “I think I saw Mouse by the coffee shop. I’m going to go check it out. Meet me later to jam?”
Cross nodded. “Five o’clock at Red’s?”
Anton smiled. He shook my hand, waved a two-finger salute to Pru, and left.
I frowned. “Did he say he saw a mouse?”
“Yeah. His sidekick, Mouse.”
Huh. “Is she small?”
Cross’s lips twitched into a lazy half smile. The split second move revealed a dimple in one cheek. Dimples didn’t go with the persona I’d pinned on him. “Nah. She’s quiet. Like a church mouse.”
Pru strode across the pavilion floor. “Who?”
Cross squared his shoulders. “Anton’s woman, Mouse, is quiet…like a mouse.”
“Gross.” She turned her face away. “He has a girlfriend?”
“Yes.” I groaned. “And he’s at least six years too old for you.”
“Whatever. Dad said come home and never leave again.” She popped a hip. “What else were you two talking about?”
Cross tilted forward at the waist, fingers wedged in his pockets. He rocked on his heels. “I’m playing at Red’s tomorrow night. You should come listen.”
Pru bounced. “Excellent. Playing what?”
He looked at me for a long beat before turning his attention back to her. “Guitar. I’m a songwriter. A talent scout’s coming. It could be my big break. We came here early so I could make this show.”
Pru clapped silently. “We’ll be there.”
I sighed. “What happened to going home and never leaving again? What about the old-man mob and the pitchforks?”
She beamed.
Cross nodded. “Great. I’ll walk you as far as Main Street.”
We headed back across the field in a row with Cross at the center. Pru supplied the conversation in her typical interrogation format. “What kind of songs do you write?”
“Country mostly.”
“Poems?”
He cleared his throat with a rasp. “Never.”
“Songs are like poems.”
He snorted. “No.”
“Is Cross your first or last name?”
“Neither.”
“Oh.” She dug in her pocket. “You like my sister.”
He slid careful eyes my way without speaking.
“Knew it.” She freed her phone and scrolled through texts. “You’ve got to be kidding me. Lorraine saw Jason with Marcy Tucker this morning. Asshole.”
Cross tapped his temple with one silent finger.
Pru growled into her phone. “Effing snake!”
He bumped me with his elbow. “Told you.”
“Yep.”
Cross hadn’t argued when Pru said he liked me. I shook my hands out at the wrists. I’d think about that later. I had a more immediate question. What kind of feeling did Nadya have the night Faith died? Whatever the feeling was, it was enough to wake a dozen people and insist they leave town. I needed to talk to Nadya.
Chapter 6
Some People are Broken
Housebound again.
I’d lost days in my room, unaware of time. Why couldn’t I manage one afternoon without losing my mind? Questions roared through my restless mind. What had Anton meant, Nadya had a feeling and insisted they leave? A bad feeling? Had she known something would happen to Faith? Had she seen something happen to Faith? Maybe the feeling was unrelated. She could’ve foreseen a better campsite in the next town if they got an early start.
I opened a search engine and carried my laptop to my bed. Settling against the pillows, I began my ritual. It’d been years since I exhausted this particular vein. My fingers fell against the keys in a rush, opening multiple windows and refining the terms. Roma Gypsies. Gypsy abilities. Gypsy psychics. All the things I’d dismissed as junk two years ago.
“Mercy?” Dad’s voice carried up the final set of stairs.
I slapped the laptop shut and shoved it under the pillows beside me.
“Mercy?” He stood in the doorway. “You okay?”
“Fine. Why?”
He motioned through the doorway. “May I?”
I nodded and sat upright, pulling a small pillow into my lap for protection. My heart ached preemptively. He never came to my room. Something was wrong. Again.
Dad examined me. “You look shaken.” His gaze drifted to my arms.
“I’m fine.”
“You heard some things at breakfast you weren’t meant to hear.”
I pressed my lips together before speaking. “I’m not made of glass. You can tell me things. I need to know things.”
“You know too much about all the wrong things.”
His thinking was royally screwed.
“Dad. I’m seventeen. I’m leaving next month, and I’ll be on my own for four years. You can’t shelter me anymore. I mean, what do you think will happen? Do you think on my eighteenth birthday or my first day of college or some other random moment in time, I’ll magically transform into someone who can handle all the things you keep from me now? You have to give me a break. Trust me with things. I’m tougher than you think.”
His lips curved down at the sides. Worry lines creased his brow. He thought I was fragile. He thought I would break like Faith and Mom.
“You think Faith killed herself.”
His mouth opened and shut. His cheeks flushed pink then red. “Her death was an accident.”
I scooted to the edge of the bed. “How do you know?”
Dad cleared his throat, drawing attention to the bright red skin of his neck. “Because all teenage deaths are accidents. They could all be prevented.” He pressed his lips together. “I know you think we’re wrong to chase people away from here, but St. Mary’s is a respectable town. We have no crime. A near hundred percent graduation rate and no tolerance for Gypsies. I won’t lose another daughter, Mercy. There are plenty of people in this town who see the Lovells for what they are. Dangerous. Gypsies prey on those who are hurting and they’ll eat you alive.”
Pru sauntered through the doorway. “Good grief.”
Dad’s head snapped around to face her. Defeat crossed his brow. “You’re not leaving here the rest of the summer. I’ve been absent from your life for far too long, and the Lord’s brought that readily to my attention. It’s no accident the Lovells returned on the day you lost your mind, bringing that boy to your room. I see I’m needed at home, and that’s where I’ll be.”
The smile melted off Pru’s face. “What?”
“I want to spend more time with Mercy before she leaves, and I think you could use some discipleship. If you didn’t have the sense to see through that boy’s motives, then I’ve failed you. It won’t happen again.” He straightened his spine. “I’m working from home until the Lovells have gone.” An awkward smile changed his features. “Look aliv
e, ladies. There’s change afoot. The Porters are finding redemption.”
Pru looked from me to Dad. “I’m already redeemed.” It sounded more like a question.
Dad’s small smile was a mix of pride and humor. “Perhaps.”
I squeezed the pillow in my lap. “You blame the Lovells because Faith snuck out to be with them, not because you think they hurt her, right?”
“The Lovells were here ten days and then vanished the night my baby drowned.” Pain glossed his eyes. “The sheriff was right. Innocent people don’t flee a crime scene. That troubles me.”
I jumped before he retreated. Dad never said this much about Faith’s death. I had to act fast. “Sheriff Dobbs blames them. Is it because they left or was there something else? If you know more than you’re telling, please tell me.” My voice cracked.
The muscle in his jaw ticked. He ran his fingers through the hair above his ears. “I don’t know what happened that night, and I can’t change the past, but I surely can stop it from repeating. If you need me, I’ll be in the kitchen preparing Sunday night’s sermon.”
Pru was silent until Dad’s footsteps faded into the kitchen. “He thinks they killed her.”
My mouth dried. I’d never be able to say those words with such recklessness.
She paced the floor. “The way the Lovells left makes them look guilty. What are we going to do now?”
“I want to research more about Roma.”
“To see if they’re psychic? I did that too. The whole Internet contradicts itself.” Pru climbed onto my bed and adjusted the pillows for a backrest. “You need this for research.” She handed me my hidden laptop and punched the pillows into submission. “Much better.”
I opened the lid. “I don’t believe in magic or psychics. I just wondered….”
“I know.” She motioned me to go on with my search.
Having a little sister under my feet was a lot different from following an older sister around. I was on display for her viewing pleasure. Her wide blue eyes blinked. Waiting.
“Fine.” Site after site depicted the unfair treatment of Roma. The term Gypsy was thrown carelessly around the Web, used derogatorily to describe many of the traveling groups. Wiccan sites proclaimed Roma yielded uncanny abilities, but few expounded on the meaning. I closed the windows a few minutes later.
“Find anything?”
“Not really. I used to get lost for days in that search. Talismans, incantations, fortunetelling… Dad taught us it’s all lies bred from evil. I don’t think the Lovells are evil.”
Pru rolled onto her side and smiled. “You mean you don’t think Cross is evil.”
“I don’t think any of them are evil.”
“Good. So, we can go watch him sing tomorrow night?”
She was so much like Faith. “Didn’t you hear Dad? You’re not allowed to leave for the rest of the summer and he plans to be home. Forever.”
She blew out a breath, vibrating her lips together. “He can’t stay here forever. He’s got pitchforks to polish.”
My phone buzzed on the nightstand. A text from Cross.
“Want to see a man eat fire?”
“No.”
“A woman swallow swords?”
Pru crowded over my shoulder. “What’s he want?”
“Who?”
“Oh, I don’t know. The only person I’ve seen text you?”
I moved the phone between us.
“Pass.”
“Come on.” Pru bounced beside me. “He wants to see you. Maybe you can talk to Nadya.”
I could talk to Nadya. What would I say? Anton told me you made them leave town the night my sister died. I couldn’t tell her the town thought they’d hurt Faith. If I approached her as an accuser, she’d never let me come back and they weren’t in town for long. “You should’ve seen the way she looked at me when we met.”
“You met her?” Pru slapped my arm. “When?”
“How about tiny dogs in tutus?”
Pru nudged me, nodding wildly.
“Fine.”
“Knew it. I had you at tutu.”
“Shut up. Watch for me.”
I climbed off the bed and grabbed a brush. Pru bounded toward the door.
“Where are you going?”
She stopped, stunned. “I’m going with.”
“No way. You’re the decoy. If Dad’s babysitting you, he can’t be stalking me. I can’t talk to Nadya with him following me.”
Pru leaned her back against the doorjamb, shoulders slumped. “I used to pray he’d come back to us. I didn’t think he’d be such a pain in the ass if he did.”
I snorted. “Go. Tell him I’m visiting Faith and Mom.”
She rolled her eyes and disappeared down the steps.
My brush halted in my tangled black tips. I’d just asked my little sister to cover for me while I visited the Lovells. Just like Faith.
* * * *
Cross was leaning against the St. Mary’s Campground sign. He twirled flowers in his fingertips. The material of his black shirt clung to his shoulders and the angles of his chest. His waist looked narrower in dark jeans and daylight.
He pushed away from the sign when I got close enough to hear him speak. “This is for you.”
I accepted the gift. “You made me a flower wreath?”
Cross wrinkled his nose. “No. Rose made you a flower halo when I told her you were coming. She thinks they’re good luck or something. She wears them when we perform.”
“Or practice?”
“Yeah, but during performances, she wears the flowers on her clothes or around her wrists.”
Rose had beautiful floral tattoos on her neck and throat. “For luck. Got it.”
I situated the little wreath on my head and wiggled it. Thank goodness I didn’t have a mirror.
“Try not to look like that when you see Rose.”
“Oh. Sorry.” I adjusted my sour expression. “Better?”
A voice bellowed in the distance. “Cross!”
One of Anton’s brothers waved his arms overhead.
Cross looked me over. “Ready?”
Not at all. “Yep.” I followed him across the field to the largest trailer. Tinny music lifted on the breeze, carried from behind the giant motorhome on our right. Cross slipped between the vehicles with me on his heels.
Anton and his brother stopped talking when we arrived.
Cross rubbed his palms together. “You guys remember my friend Mercy.”
Rose waved from the bottom of a human pyramid. The young girls I’d met at the campfire balanced on one another, contorting their bodies in impossible ways. Rose hovered at the base, arms wide. “Beautiful!” She clapped and the girls sprang free of one another. They wore matching black corsets and fishnet stockings. A satin ruffle formed a short tail over their mostly exposed bottoms. Rose’s fitted black dress clung to her curves and dipped low over her cleavage. Gold satin lined her enormous ruffled cuffs and the exaggerated collar standing at attention behind her brightly painted neck.
Sheaths of black and gold satin stretched from poles and trailer tops, blocking the sun and adding to the strange atmosphere. I was underdressed.
Anton carried flaming batons to a man in black dress pants and no shirt.
A woman wearing a floor-length ball gown twirled swords over her head. Her silver dress reflected rainbows of sunlight. A split on one side climbed the length of her long legs to her hip, revealing red panties as she moved. Most of her raven hair piled high in an updo. A handful of select pieces curled down to her elbows. Ruby-red lips and thick black eyeliner gave her look a dangerous edge. That and the swords.
Cross touched my hip with his fingers. He pointed to the acrobats. “You remember Rose. The girls are Camille, Violet, and Gem. The man with the fire is Collin. Daisy is the one with the swords.”
The music’s pace increased. Daisy spun with the swords, dancing and bending with the
rhythm. The Lovells formed a silent semicircle. My heartbeat matched pace with the unusual song. Daisy’s skirt swung wide as she lunged and dipped. The swords never slowed.
Cross watched me.
I quieted my voice. “She’s amazing.”
He crossed his arms over his chest. “She’s a ninja.”
A smirk crossed my face. Daisy adjusted her stance abruptly, poising a sword over her head. Her free hand moved seductively over the curves of her body from chest to hip before joining the other overhead.
“What’s she doing?”
Cross lowered his lips to my ear. “She’s going to swallow the sword.”
My eyes stretched wide. I couldn’t look away. “You said there were tutus.”
Cross chuckled. “You don’t have to watch.”
The sword lowered between Daisy’s shiny red lips. My heart skittered to a stop as the shiny metal blade grew smaller and smaller, disappearing inch by inch into Daisy’s mouth.
Hair on my neck and arms stood at attention. Across the makeshift circle, Nadya and Nicolae stood behind Rose and the acrobats. My skin burned under Nadya’s gaze. She rubbed her thumb over a large blue stone hanging from a chain around her neck. Silver bangles lined both her forearms, jingling like wind chimes against the backdrop of music on unseen speakers.
Clapping broke out. Daisy bowed low, lifting the sword at her side. Her eyes moved to mine.
A wide, warm arm snaked around my back and pulled me away from my place in the crowd. “Let’s walk.” Cross swept us through a line of black satin curtains and away from his family. He dropped his arm the moment we passed through the barrier.
My mouth was dry and pasty. My tongue was too big for speech.
“Sorry about the dogs. Daisy was working with them when I texted you.”
Air moved painfully through my chest as Cross led me to the river. I made a sharp turn before we arrived at the riverbank. “What was that about?”
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