The smile in Cross’s eyes faded. “Will?”
I opened my mouth and lost the words. “When you sing, you aren’t Cross. You’re…something more. Something real.”
He closed the space to me in two short strides and lifted me by my hips until our lips lined up. “You see something else when you look at me?”
I nodded. A rush of emotion overcame me. Zero words.
His sweet breath washed over my lips. “I don’t know how I found you, but a few weeks isn’t long enough to keep you.” Passion burned in the words.
I wrapped my legs around his back to help him bear the weight, though he held me as if I weighed nothing. A shudder pounded through his chest.
Cross turned us around and walked into the smattering of trees outside camp, carrying me against his chest. Our bodies lined up perfectly. The friction between us increased with his every heavy footfall. He lowered his lips to my ear. “We’re going to be late for lunch.”
“Fine by me.”
He groaned deep and long into my hair then pressed my back against a tree.
Chapter 15
Death Follows
Kissing and laughing turned to handholding and daydreaming as we sat alone in the trees. Under cover of ancient oaks, Cross was at ease. He wasn’t Cross, as Nicolae so cruelly or ignorantly named him. He was a kid accustomed to abuse and betrayal. The wall he’d built to protect himself looked like anger, but his off-putting disposition was self-preservation. Parts of me had understood that on a molecular level the moment we met. My wall was made of pillows, closed doors, and dyed hair, but we were the same and in his arms, the sameness comforted me.
The buzz of Cross’s phone brought us out of our stupor. He smiled and took the call. “We’re almost there. We are. Seriously, we’re one minute away.”
I finger-combed my hair and checked for grass stains or leaves on my clothes. “Who was that?”
He pressed the phone into his pocket. “Anton. Lunch is ready. Are you?”
“Not really. The Lovells aren’t exceptionally fond of me, remember?”
Cross stood tall and strong, tangling his hands in my hair. “Hey.”
I tipped my head back to see his face.
He dropped wide palms over my hips. “I’m exceptionally fond of you. That’s what matters. After lunch, we’ll go for a walk or to get ice cream or anything you want. Okay?”
I pursed my lips. “They’re your family and it matters if they hate me.”
He slumped. “They aren’t my family. They’re my friends and I’m indebted to them for helping me escape my life, but this is temporary for me. This is their life. They let me sit in on it for a while, but I’m thinking of different, bigger things now.” He took my hand and pulled us slowly toward the campsite. “Growing up, I thought about two things: survival and my mom. Those two things consumed my thoughts. When I was safe, I thought of my mom. When I wasn’t, I focused on making it through the moment. Running away with the Lovells helped for a while, but it’s been almost three years now, and I’m thinking the world’s bigger than my camper.” He squeezed my fingers. “I’m done floating around. Traveling with the Lovells is too much like changing foster homes. I want a home without wheels. I want roots and a neighborhood where the local coffee guy knows my usual order. You make me think that’s possible.”
I inhaled the sharp scent of pine as the trees on our path changed from oak to evergreen. “All things are possible.”
“See. I love that about you.” He seemed shocked by his words. It took a minute for him to recover and continue. “I love that you overcame such tragedy. You keep coming out on top and it’s not because someone’s pulling you out. It’s because you’re tough enough to keep going.”
“I’m not tough.”
He angled his head, watching me as we moved. “You are. You don’t see it, but you are.”
I dropped his hand and wrapped my arms around my center. The scars on both arms heated the skin. I rubbed them against the rough fabric of my jeans, soothing the burn and wishing I was the girl Cross saw.
A cascade of sunlight broke through the trees at the edge of the grove. Music from the line of Lovell campers announced the party. Laughter and voices mixed with the tinny sounds of strange, stringed instruments and some sort of flute.
Cross picked up his pace. “Sounds like the Lovells are playing.” The hitch in his step was contagious. I jogged along beside him toward the party. Hoots and whooping punctuated the music as we arrived on a long round of applause.
Nicolae, Tom, Collin, and Daisy set their instruments aside on a makeshift stage. Softer music played from speakers tucked inside trailer windows.
Together, their private community shouted. “Cross!”
He gripped my palm in his, never letting go, as dozens of arms brought him into an embrace. They passed us down a makeshift reception line to a rectangle of picnic tables shoved together two deep and four long. The tables were covered in textured crimson material and dotted with white place settings. I sat beside Cross and the others filled in around us, clearly divided. The Lovells filled one end of the massive table, side by side and uninterrupted by cast and crew. Mouse took the seat beside Anton, beginning the line of non-Lovell faces across from us. The acrobats sat on my right, the last of them beside Rose.
Rose lifted her glass. “I want to make a toast. To Cross: Congratulations, Will Morris, on your bravery, talent, and apparent new love.” She winked.
I died.
The crowd roared. Glasses clinked together. “Cheers!”
Cross breathed into my hair. “She’s very excitable. Don’t let her scare you.”
He’d nailed the emotion. Was I Cross’s new love? If that was what she meant, then I was terrified. I didn’t deserve Cross’s love, and I barely knew him. Love took years to build, didn’t it? Or was that another set of lies Dad had formulated to keep his girls from behaving exactly as I had all week? Kissing in public. Sneaking out at night. I thought Pru acted like Faith, but how was I different?
A bowl appeared. Cross wobbled it before me. “Salad?”
I scooped the mix of greens and peppers onto my plate and passed the bowl to my right. One of the acrobats accepted it and turned back to her conversation with a smile. I focused on the choreography of bowl passing and food sampling, instead of the word banging on the back of my mind. Love. Bowls of food continued to come until I had no room to try anything else.
Cross leaned close. “You okay?”
I bobbed my head. “There are only three of us at home and we don’t talk much, or eat together.” At least we didn’t until a few days ago. Still, the process was nothing like this. “It’s a lot to take in.”
Nadya and Daisy whispered to one another throughout the meal. Mouse averted her eyes, pretending not to listen, but the tilt of her head and the flick of her gaze to me said otherwise. She absorbed every word they said and would use it against me given the first opportunity.
I nudged Cross. “I think they’re talking about me.”
He nodded, wiped his mouth with a linen napkin, and gripped my knee under the table. “They don’t trust settled people.”
I snorted, remembering Mouse’s creepy words. “Do you think they want me to leave?”
His fingers pressed gently into the skin of my leg. “It’s my party. It would be rude to ask my only guest to leave.”
My heart sank. That was a definite yes. They wanted me to leave but hated bad manners, so they chose to whisper about me instead. Go figure. I couldn’t eat another bite without throwing up.
An arm slid between Cross and me. Flame-red nails gripped my plate. “Finished?” Daisy leaned in, pressing my shoulder away from Cross’s.
I sucked air. “Yes. Thank you. It was delicious.”
“Really? You barely touched a thing. Are you sure it was good enough for you?” Her clipped tone frightened me. I’d seen the woman wield a sword. And then eat it.
“No. It
wasn’t anything like that.” What could I say? “I don’t eat a lot and there was so much to try.”
She straightened. “Settled women. You’re always worried about your appearances. When will you accept that women are beautiful just as we were created?” She left in a huff.
Living with her for three years explained Cross’s declaration on feminism.
“Ignore her.” Cross rubbed a hand down my back. “She’s territorial for no good reason.”
Territorial? Daisy sashayed gracefully into the Lovells’ trailer carrying a pile of dishes. For someone who didn’t care about appearances, her stilettos and dress seemed a little much. The midday sun and her gauzy dress left little to the imagination. Her long willowy silhouette was probably enough to start a riot in some towns. Silky black hair trailed down her back and danced against her rear as she disappeared inside.
The volume around me diminished to a low hum. The women were gone. The table was cleared. Behind us, running water and clattering plates echoed through open trailer windows.
I turned on the bench. “Should I offer to help?”
Cross swallowed his last bit of soda and set the cup aside. “Why? You’re a guest.”
“But all the…”
“Women?” He fought a smiled. “You’re a woman, so you should clean the dishes? Table cleaning is women’s work?”
Was that a trick question? I looked at the trailer full of women. Yes, the idea was antiquated, but wasn’t it women’s work? Mom did the cleaning when she was alive. Every mom I knew did the cleaning. After church potlucks, the women cleared the tables. If it wasn’t our genetically determined duty, then why?
I examined my surroundings. Cross and I sat with seven or eight men. No women. “But.”
He stood and pulled me up with him. “It’s called division of labor. Any one of us can switch jobs at any time if we find another person to swap with. Personally, I’d rather do dishes than clean the dog pens, but I’d rather clean the dog pens than ask one of them to do it. See?”
“I guess. You’re a nice guy.”
“Yeah, well, don’t spread it around.”
We walked the perimeter of the space inside the trailers’ semicircle and settled on the edge of the stage. Cross lifted the lid of a guitar case and removed the contents. He raised the strap over his shoulder and arranged the guitar on his lap.
I hitched one leg onto the stage between us. “When you said Daisy was territorial, did you mean she’s interested in you or that you two were together once?”
He glanced at the crowded trailer before answering. “When I first came on board, she vouched for me. The Lovells were reluctant to bring me in because I didn’t add to the show. They need acrobats and performers. If someone with a talent shows interest, we take them. When a beat-up sixteen-year-old wants to leave town with them, it’s complicated. If I hadn’t worked with them for three summers in Philadelphia, they probably would’ve left me. They remembered me and that helped, but Daisy was the one who made it happen.”
I imagined the sexy seductress putting the moves on sixteen-year-old Cross and shuddered. He hadn’t stood a chance. “How old is she?”
“Twenty-four.”
Yeesh. Twenty-four? I did the mental math. “So, she was into you when you were sixteen? She was twenty-one then.”
“And you’re seventeen and I’m nineteen now.”
“Not the same. Did you two…” I let the implication hang between us.
He turned to face me, matching my position. “No. Despite the costumes, virtue is very important to them. As for our age difference, age is different for Roma. They marry for life and they marry young. Some Roma are paired with their future spouse when they’re in diapers or before they’re born. The whole thing is very specific. Families make deals. Roma only marry Roma. It’s part of their culture. It’s their way.”
“But, you’re not Roma.”
Sadness changed his features. “No. I’m not.”
Was he sorry to miss out on Daisy? On an arranged marriage? Who were these people? Feminists who set up husbands for their little girls? When Pru heard about this, she’d have one thing to say: What the hell? Appropriately.
I shoved the questions aside. I didn’t care about Roma culture. I cared about Cross. “Then why did Daisy push so hard to bring you along? It sure sounds like she wanted you for herself.”
Cross worked his jaw. “She did.” His shoulders stiffened.
I waited.
His sad eyes searched mine. “How can Daisy or Anton or any of them find love if they move constantly and are required to marry Roma? Do you have any idea how long ago it was that we met another Roma family? I can only remember one and they had toddlers. The Lovells have traveled alone for so long there aren’t any spouses for their kids. All four kids want what Nadya and Nicolae have, but none of them are allowed to find it.”
Ah. I rubbed my arms. “Daisy thought she could make you part of the family and then you could be together.”
He closed his eyes, produced a guitar pick from his pocket, and dragged it over the strings. “She’s not their blood, but she’s a traveler, and that’s to be respected. Daisy and I lasted long enough for Nicolae to make it clear he’d leave me at the closest corner if I tried to touch her. Travelers belong to travelers. They’re a dying culture clinging to old ways.” He shook his head. “I needed a home more than a girlfriend. That was the end of that.”
I blew out a breath. “You’re in demand.”
His fingers froze against the strings. “What do you mean?”
“Mouse? You said she followed you around, but you pushed her away so she moved on to Anton.”
He stifled a grin. “I told you that?”
“Yep.”
“I guess Mouse overheard the whole thing between Daisy and me, so she assumed she and I could be together since neither of us were Lovells.”
“Logical.” I gripped my knees to my chest and rested my chin on top. “That’s what happened to Anton with Trina. She wasn’t Roma, so she was booted out when they fell in love.” I lowered my forehead to my knees. “Why hasn’t anyone told him? He thinks it’s his fault they leave. That’s awful.”
Cross chuckled. “You know, for a girl who doesn’t see how amazing she is, you certainly see everything else with clarity.”
I lifted my face to frown at him.
Rose crossed the lawn on cute wooden wedges. Her black pinup girl dress and hat matched the velvet bag in her hand. “Am I interrupting?”
Cross waved to the stage. “Join us.”
She sat beside me and tucked her short skirt beneath her thighs. “Did you enjoy lunch?”
I nodded, pushing Daisy’s verbal attack out of my mind. “The stuffed peppers were heaven. I haven’t had anything like them before.” I dropped both hands to the stage. “And that bread was unbelievable.”
Her gaze rose over my head.
I turned.
Cross shrugged. “Thank you.”
He’d told me he cooked, but I’d imagined hot dogs and mac and cheese, not homemade breads and who knew what else. “Shut. Up. You made that bread?”
“Soda bread. It’s not that hard. I’ll show you sometime.” He strummed his guitar, looking pleased with himself.
Rose touched my shoulder. “He never does that.”
“What?”
“Smiles.”
I turned to catch a glimpse of the dimple I loved before he quickly hid it away. She lived with him, but I had to disagree. Cross smiled a lot.
Rose opened her bag and brought out a line of supplies. Her crimson and gold nails looked like fire atop each heavily inked finger. Tiny black flowers covered the skin of both hands. “I thought you might like a little henna.”
I choked back a giant no. If I had henna on my hands, everyone would know where it came from. Dad would kill me. My tummy churned. There wasn’t room in my stomach for food. It was always filled with nerves. “I don’t k
now.”
“Come on.” She rocked into a more comfortable position and took my palm in hers. “It’ll match your pretty nails. We can do it while you watch the show.”
Pru had done a great job on my nails. “What show?”
Cross’s voice startled me. “There’s always a show.”
I was so focused on Rose’s offer, I’d forgotten him for a moment. Rose’s eager gray eyes implored me.
Across the grass, Mouse and Nadya stared in our direction. “Okay, maybe just a little. My dad won’t understand, so not too much, okay?”
She sighed. “Forbidden love is so romantic, don’t you think?”
I said, “Not really,” at the same time Cross said, “Not everything is romantic, Rosie.”
Their odd, brother-sister vibe comforted me. “Okay. Do it.”
Rose beamed. “Excellent. I’ll just do one palm. You can always close your fingers if you want to hide the ink.” She opened a pink tube and prepped my palm with a white gauze pad.
I glanced at Nadya, still watching. “I don’t think your mom approves any more than my dad.”
Cross swiveled behind me until his back became a rest for mine. I leaned against him and he sang softly, repeating and readjusting lyrics.
Rose touched the tube to my skin. “My mom knows your dad wants us out of town. He’s not the only one, but he’s leading the crusade. That offends her. Plus, she didn’t want to come here to begin with, but Anton and I insisted. This is Cross’s big chance to get out of the sideshow business and make a name for himself with those songs of his. I know he can do it. We begged until Mom had no choice but to agree. We give up so much for her.” Her posture drooped.
The feeling Nadya had known about Faith’s death before I first visited their campsite rolled in my gut. “Why didn’t she want to come back here?”
Rose lifted her eyes to mine. “She said this place is corrupt. She thinks the whole song-writing competition was designed by the gods or karma or something worse, to force us back here. She says your town is dark.” Rose started the tiny design at the center of my hand and worked her way up each finger in slow, calculated motions. “I think small towns make us all uneasy. It’s like driving into a family picnic. In big cities, we’re hardly noticed and when we are, the people appreciate the diversity and entertainment. Here, in places like this, people think the worst.”
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