A lump wedged in my throat, and I willed back tears. My emotions were a dam with a puncture. It wouldn’t take much to send me over the edge. The past two days were more than I’d expected. More than I thought I could manage. I was a time bomb.
Dad crept around my room, touching concert posters and stacks of paperbacks. He traced a picture of Faith and Mom with his fingertips. “They were beautiful, weren’t they?” His lips quivered. “Just like the two of you.”
Pru looked at me.
I squirmed. “Dad?”
He scrubbed a heavy palm over his face and moved back into the doorway. “I’m glad you’re together. You should get some sleep.”
Pru followed him into the hall. “What happened tonight?”
“There was a small fire at the campgrounds. Probably a combination of careless kids and fireworks. Nothing for you to worry about. No one was hurt, though I hear the Lovells’ gear was damaged in the fiasco. They should be leaving now.” Dad nodded in approval. “Never underestimate the power of prayer, girls.”
I squared my shoulders, daring to ask the question on my heart. “Those men who came over for breakfast wanted the Lovells to leave town. No one we know would do something like this intentionally. Right?”
He moved onto the first step. “Of course not.”
I relaxed a bit, feeling silly and guilty for asking. “Right. Sorry.” I raised an apologetic smile. “You guys worried me. Those men wanted the Lovells to leave as much as you do. The sheriff thinks the Lovells had something to do with what happened to Faith… Daddy.” My voice cracked with desperation. “What happened to Faith?”
Pressing the matter was stupid. When I’d asked too many questions before, he navigated the situation by avoiding me. I didn’t want to lose him again, but I had to know. If I had answers before I left for college, maybe life would be different.
Emotion fell from his features, replaced in a blink with his usual contempt. “Stay away from those Gypsies, Mercy. They’re trouble. They’re traveling locusts that drop into town, take what they want and move on. Do you understand me?”
Pru’s face wrinkled into a guffaw. Her cheeks pinked beyond the hue of her pajamas.
I clenched my jaw and measured my breaths. Ignored again. He never answered our questions, no matter how direct. The man who’d taught us not to judge had labeled an entire group of people he’d never met as locusts. How was that for hypocrisy? Words piled on my tongue, unable to spill. What happened? What did he know that was so awful he refused to tell us?
When Dad turned away, I lurched forward a baby step. “Why do you blame the Lovells?” I pleaded with Dad, while sending silent prayers for intervention. Answer me.
His body stiffened, but he didn’t turn. “She snuck out to be with them that night. She snuck out all week for them. But you already knew that.”
I gasped. He knew. All these years, he’d known I’d covered for her, and he hadn’t said a word. He’d let me curl up in my guilt and fade away. Where was his forgiveness of my sin? I was just a kid then, younger than Pru now. Fourteen was too young to bear that agony alone, and he’d let it suffocate me.
He thumped down the steps and Pru followed.
My lungs burned for air. Would she blame me now too? “Pru.”
She looked like someone had slapped her.
“Where are you going?”
“To my room. I need my bed and my iPod.”
“’Kay.” I slipped back into my room and latched the door. My heart pounded recklessly against my ribs. Dad’s words played on a loop in my head. Running through the night with Pru had invigorated me. Hearing Cross’s song intoxicated me. Dad’s truth freed me. He knew I was guilty, and for that I was strangely released.
I sat at the vanity and stared at my reflection. I was alive. I thought I’d died with Faith and again with my mom, but I hadn’t. The emotional cocktail in my heart confirmed it. There was more to me than sadness, and I wanted to live. Resolution formed in my broken heart. Faith couldn’t tell her story, so I’d tell it for her. I’d force the truth out of hiding. Someone knew exactly what happened that night and I wasn’t afraid to push until they told me what they knew. Dad could keep his secrets. I’d talk to everyone. Her friends. Her old boyfriend. Every Lovell at the campgrounds. I’d interview the entire town if I had to, but I wouldn’t leave for college without telling Faith’s story. I owed her that.
The scars on my arms ached and itched to be opened. I rubbed my palms over them until a red friction burn emerged. The familiar coil of longing stirred in my gut. I could release the pressure so easily. I scratched the scars harder with my fingernails. Pressure filled my chest. I could make one cut and release all the things overwhelming my brain. I could free them. Free me. A deluge of tears fell over my lids, blurring my sight and scorching my cheeks.
I pressed my palm over the scars and sobbed. I couldn’t do that anymore. I wanted to so badly, but I couldn’t. I didn’t cut anymore.
Oh, but why? Why didn’t I cut anymore? Relief was so close, so easily gained. The tears fell faster, piling on my thigh. I blinked through the pain and grabbed a notebook and pen from the floor. This time I had another way to channel the excess. I started a list.
Truth about Faith
I tapped the pen against my vanity. Who saw her that weekend? The names floated forward from memory. As the list grew, the stinging in my arm faded. Instead of the usual wave of guilt from making a new cut, a surge of determination coursed through my veins. The list gave me purpose. I could make a difference. I had a mission.
Chapter 10
What the Stars Saw
Fourth of July was a big holiday for the town, and our church had a covered-dish party in the parking lot every year. Kids got glow sticks and sparklers. Moms made enough food and dessert to feed anyone who stopped.
I plugged in my purple lights and brushed my hair. Fireworks popped and burst in the sky beyond my window. We’d avoided all the hoopla for years, but Dad had renewed purpose. He’d woken us at five and insisted we carry pop-up chairs to the parade route. I’d pleaded a headache and stayed in bed plotting. Pru hadn’t been as lucky. She and Dad had gone to the parade and brought hot doughnuts home from one of the vendors for breakfast. Dad had eaten two donuts while Pru filled me in on the color-guard gossip before he’d pulled her away for lunch. They’d stopped at home and left again at dark.
My phone buzzed on the bed behind me and I jumped.
It was Cross. “Hey.”
“Hey.”
“You want to talk?”
I bit my lip.
“Okay.”
I held the phone close to my chest and waited for his call. Instead, my hand vibrated with a new text.
“I’m coming up.”
Wait. What? I dropped the phone and ran to my window, straining to see through the darkness. Trees swayed in a warm summer breeze. I wedged a book in the window frame to keep it open and sat on the floor, resting elbows on the window ledge. Wind rumpled my hair. I breathed in the night and wiped furiously at my face, regretting the removal of my mascara and lipstick.
A small shadow moved across the lawn below and my heart leaped. I leaned my head and shoulders through the open window, watching the shadow grow until I recognized Cross. He jumped at the base of my tree and grasped the limb overhead. His arms and legs moved in perfect synchronization as he made his way to the roof outside my window. How could someone twice my size be so lithe?
His face popped into view a moment later. “Hey.”
Emotions vied for position in my heart and head. A bolt of electricity shot through me at the sight of Cross outside my room. The thrill collided with a freight train of fear and anticipation. What if we were caught? If we weren’t caught, what might the night hold? “Hey.”
I shoved the window higher and swung my legs over the frame. Thanks to the cotton shorts I’d slid into for pajamas, my creepy pale skin glowed in the moonlight. Cross held the window
until I was free. I eased the book back into place. “Come on.” I inched across the roof and settled on warm shingles over the back porch. “Pru and Dad are at the church.”
Cross rocked back on his heels, folding into position beside me. “I saw them.”
“Yeah?” I locked my fingers around my knees and tugged my freakish white legs against my chest. “How was your day?”
He watched me with too-observant eyes. “We went over to Marietta for a show. We worked around the loss of equipment. I don’t think anyone noticed. Did you like the pictures?”
I smiled. Between Cross and Pru, I hadn’t felt alone. My phone had buzzed all day with new information and sneak snapshots, or goofy videos. “Yeah.”
“What’re you doing tomorrow?”
As I sat beside him in the dark, my heart swelled. What if I’d chosen to cross the street when I first saw Cross and Anton outside Red’s that morning? Where would I be right now if I’d made a different decision? I inched closer to him, borrowing his heat and hating the answers to both questions. “Church. You?”
“Practice. Can I meet you somewhere afterward? Maybe you’ll let me buy you lunch or at least a drink with a flag on it?”
I laughed. “Oh, absolutely. Can I get an obnoxious striped straw?”
He managed to look offended. “You think I wouldn’t spring for the big straw?”
Wind blew hair into my face. I rubbed sweat-slicked palms over my thighs and down to my ankles. “Are you practicing your songs or your act with the Lovells?”
“Both.”
I was alone at night on the roof with a gorgeous, forbidden guy. My heart beat loud in my chest. Blood thrummed between my ears making me light-headed and half mental. If I rolled off the roof, I’d probably die happy. I forced my attention straight ahead so as not to test my theory. “I liked your song.”
His boots scraped over gritty shingles. “Thanks. I’m in for next week.”
I twisted to look into his eyes. “Really? That’s amazing.”
He smiled. “I don’t know how I feel about it yet. Every week will get harder. Next week I’ll need a song good enough to beat all this week’s winners.” He groaned. “There were some great lyrics. I can’t believe they picked mine.”
I could. “Your song was really good. For a guy who claims he’s not great with words, you certainly can put them to music.”
His cheeks darkened. A blush? Was Cross capable of blushing? My cheeks warmed in response.
He ducked his head. “Thanks.”
I looked away, gathering my calm. “So, what happens if you go all the way with this? What about the Lovells?”
“I don’t know. They’re my family, but I’m not a traveler. I want to write songs and work in the music industry. I’d like to have roots one day. This could be my best opportunity to do that.”
I crossed my arms over my knees, pulling them tighter against me. I spread my fingers over my biceps, wishing my shirt covered more skin. “I’m going to Tennessee next month. If you make it through all three rounds, maybe I’ll see you there.”
His narrow eyes widened. “You’re leaving home?”
“College.” I didn’t want to go, but Dad insisted I get an education and a fresh start. He’d forced the applications on me months ago and secured the necessary recommendation letters for his alma mater. “Tennessee Temple.”
Cross’s lips parted. A smile split his face and his secret dimple caved in. His tongue poked the tiny silver ring at the corner of his mouth. “Really?”
“Yeah. Is that far from Memphis?”
His usual controlled expression returned. “Far is a matter of perception. Tennessee Temple is on the other side of the state. Maybe a five-hour drive. That’s nothing to me. Why?”
I shook my head too quickly and averted my gaze. It was silly to hope we could stay in touch when summer ended, but what if we did? What if I could keep him in my life, however superficially? “Curiosity.” I needed a subject change. Not a problem since I had at least a hundred more questions. “You never told me what you do for the Lovells. Do you sing?”
“Nah. I do a little of everything. I help the crew. I spot the acrobats during practice. I put up flyers. Whatever they need.”
I chewed my lip. “But do you have an act? I saw you on the banner outside Red’s, and you had a guitar. The crew wasn’t on the sign. Only the performers.”
Cross sighed. “I read people.”
Not what I’d expected. “Like a fortune teller?”
He smiled quickly before stuffing the look away. “No. Not like that. I tell them things they already know. I watch and I listen. I tell them who they are, what they do for a living, things like that. Blows everyone’s mind. For a long time, vigilance was self-preservation. Too many years in the system taught me to pay attention.”
I remembered his scarred chest and ached to hug him. “The system. It was pretty bad, huh?”
Cross looked to the sky. “I spent sixteen years in foster care.” He looked my way and I nodded in encouragement. The line of his jaw tightened. “My mom was a drunk. She wanted me but wouldn’t stay clean, so I wasn’t available for adoption by some rich family. Instead, I was forced from one suck-ass foster home to the next. I changed schools more times than I could count. I was ignored, starved, beaten up by older kids, abused by foster parents, and left for dead once. I had a…hard time dealing with that life.”
“I’m sorry.” The words weren’t enough, but they were all I had. Memories of all the people who’d told me the same thing after we lost Faith and Mom ran through my mind. I’d hated them for such a stupid sentiment. I rubbed grit from the shingles with my palm.
“The system’s full of bad situations. Maybe there’s good in there too, but I never saw it. When I was six, I was starved and locked in a room by a couple who used the foster-kid money to buy drugs and throw parties. I spent the whole damn summer up there, and it was hot. I got out after the police busted up one of the get-togethers and found four emaciated kids in the attic. In junior high, I played the role of punching bag for my foster mom’s boyfriend. In high school, I made it out of the system by way of juvenile correction when I beat my foster dad unconscious.”
My stomach rolled against my spine. The look on Cross’s face dared me to ask. “Why?”
“I came home late one night and caught him standing over a girl’s bed in the next room. His pants were undone and she was twelve.”
Bile burned my throat.
“He told me to keep moving. Said it was none of my business, and part of me wished I could walk away. That house was the best one. We were always fed. Our clothes were clean. Hell, I was passing all my classes.” His eyes slid shut for a long beat. “I couldn’t walk away from that girl. I was sure it wasn’t the first time he’d visited her at night and it wouldn’t be the last, so I made a decision. I defended the defenseless. I didn’t even know I could hurt a grown man before that night. It was like all those years of bad caught up with me, and I got carried away.”
“What stopped you?”
Cross turned sad eyes on me. “She did. The little girl clawed at my arms, crying and begging me to stop hurting her daddy.” His Adam’s apple bobbed long and slow. “He was her dad.”
The words stole my breath. My dad would never hurt us, not intentionally. Avoiding us was unkind, but hadn’t I done the same thing for years? Withdrawing was easy. Seeing your loved ones hurting was hard.
“I can go if you want.” Cross’s voice was rough and gravelly.
“No. Stay.” I pressed my palm over his, the same gesture of comfort he’d shown me at the campfire. “Tell me more about your act with the Lovells.” I’d process the awful things he’d told me later. For now, he needed to know I didn’t blame him. “When you perform, do you get to wear a shiny robe or a turban?”
He shook his head. “It’s okay to want me to leave.”
“No.”
“I just told you I’m dang
erous. I hurt someone.”
The pain in his eyes said he hurt far more than the monster he’d attacked. “No turban? How about a crystal ball?”
He exhaled. “Mercy.”
“You protected someone.”
He looked into the night. “My act isn’t much, but it impresses people. They think I’m a mind reader or something mystical. The costume helps, but I don’t do anything amazing. The truth is no one pays attention anymore. It’s a lost art.”
“You do.”
His fingers touched my forearm and I forced myself still. “I do. Like this. Your arm’s really red.” He pierced me with a curious gaze, not the accusation I expected. “Pru said you spend most of your time in your room, but you snuck out, went to a bar, and crashed a crime scene. You learned some tough stuff about Faith. It’s been a big week for you. You doing okay?”
I rubbed my arm. He’d called Faith by her name. He hadn’t called her “your sister.” Faith was real to him. Not a memory or a sad story. I warmed to him for acknowledging that.
“Hey.” He curved his hand around my arm, covering welts I’d scratched over my scars. His cool, steady fingers soothed. “We’ll figure out what happened to Faith and get you some closure. Next month, you’ll start a new life in a new place and it will be whatever you want it to be. That’s the beauty of traveling.”
I sniffed. “What if I’m like them: Mom and maybe Faith? What if I try and fail? What if it turns out I’m a helpless, depressed, cutting waste and I finally give up too? What if it’s in my genetic makeup and there’s nothing I can do because I’m doomed?”
Cross released my arm and dragged me against his side, draping his arm over my shoulders. He dipped his head close to mine. “You’re none of those things. First, you aren’t convinced Faith went willingly into the river. She was upset with Anton and her ex, but that’s not proof of suicide. People don’t make choices that big on a whim. Second, you aren’t like your mom. She gave up. You haven’t. You’re still here because you want to survive. For what it’s worth, your mom’s choice isn’t a reflection on you either.” His voice quieted on the last word.
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