In Place of Never

by Julie Anne Lindsey

  Even my dad, the town pastor, called them locusts.

  “So, she doesn’t hate me?”

  Rose laughed. “Oh, no. She hates you. You caught Cross’s attention. Mom doesn’t like to share and she’d hoped to keep him. A settled girl like you could take him away from us. She’s too selfish and stubborn to give any of us a chance to be something else. That’s another reason she didn’t want to come here. Cross won last weekend and that puts him one step closer to leaving. Add that to a beautiful girl who makes him smile. Mom’s not happy.”

  Cross snorted behind me.

  Nicolae sauntered into the center of the small open space before us with an oddly-shaped instrument that looked like a banjo but sounded nothing like one I’d heard. His tuxedo pants and dress shoes went well with his fancy top hat, but not as nicely with his bare, tattooed chest. The melody he played was slow and melancholy. Nadya walked in a circle around him, followed single file by Anton, Tom, and Daisy, then the rest of the cast, minus Rose and Cross. Mouse sat on a picnic bench watching us.

  The women had changed into elaborate costumes reminiscent of the late eighteen hundreds. Silk corsets and high-collared gowns with poufy cuffs and black-heeled boots. Buckles and cinches pressed every inch of fabric to their womanly figures. My self-esteem took a hit watching them move with confidence in such risqué outfits. Daisy’s dress was short in front and long in back. The acrobats wore fishnet stockings, tall feathers in their sequin headbands, and little else. Black makeup lined the eyes of every cast member, men and women alike. Their drastic change in appearance was dramatic, even dangerous-looking, despite the bright sunlight. Their presence was profound and intimidating. The music, costumes, and unusual skills were surreal on the green campground grass. Being enclosed in a tent with these people for an entire show would suffocate me.

  Cross mumbled behind me. His words vibrated my back. “Never. Forever. Damn.”

  I leaned my head against his, dragging my attention from the Lovells. “That sounds like something Faith wrote.”

  Rose’s hands stilled on mine.

  Cross lolled his head to one side. “What?”

  “She kept a blog called In Place of Never and there’s a poem in progress with the same title.”

  He shifted. “Can I see it?”

  I shrugged against his shoulders. “Yeah. Google it. You have to dig because it hasn’t been updated in three years.” A better idea occurred. “Why don’t you come over later? I’ll show you.”

  Rose released my hand with a dreamy sigh. “All done.”

  My skin was loaded in what looked like brown icing. Tiny peaks pointed skyward. A thousand little dots formed lace over my palm. Small flowers climbed each finger to the tip. Their vines carried sharp thorns.

  “Do you like it? I tried to make the thorns the same. And if you look in the lace, here.” She pointed to the center of my hand. “There’s a cross. I placed it on your lifeline.”

  “Thorns like Cross’s. Did you draw his rose?”

  She smiled. “So you’ve seen it?”

  Cross turned to face us. “Knock it off.”

  She tipped her head left and right, smiling wildly. “Yes. I drew it. Tom made it permanent. Now, go inside and wash this off with water. The henna will be light, but don’t worry. You won’t erase it.”

  I stared at the artwork on my palm. Was everyone an artist but me? “It’s beautiful.”

  “Thanks.”

  Her happiness lifted my heart. She’d drawn a cross on my lifeline. She had no idea how accurate that was or on how many levels.

  Cross walked me to his nearby trailer and opened the door. “You can use the kitchen sink or the bathroom. I’ll wait outside and tell Rose to settle down before you come to your senses and leave this circus.”

  Rose hopped to her feet, tucking supplies back into her bag. She closed the distance in a few graceful strides and smacked Cross’s broad shoulder. “They’re almost finished with the show. You know what comes next. Cake time.”

  The music dwindled as I stood at the kitchen sink, absorbing the details around me. An old record player covered half the small counter. A stack of albums lay on top. A CD player and rows of CDs lined the wall above the small couch against the window. The couch probably doubled as his bed. I scrubbed faster. An iPod base sat on the kitchen table. Everything in Cross’s trailer was half-sized, compact for travel and centered on music. A glass bowl beside the faucet brimmed with guitar pics from all around the country. The names and logos of cities and places I’d never see were embossed on the rainbow of pics.

  When the henna paste was long gone, I breathed easier. The marks weren’t black like Rose’s. My lines were a faded yellow-tan. Easy to hide.

  Where were the hand towels? I opened a drawer. Silverware. I turned in a circle. Paper towels? Anything?

  The trailer door opened and shut.

  “Do you have a—” I stopped short.

  Mouse stared at me.

  I cleared my throat. “Towel?”

  She moved forward. I bumped into the countertop and grabbed ahold with both palms. Mouse leaned forward, invading my personal space and stealing my oxygen. She snagged a towel from beneath the stack of records at my side. “Here.”

  I wiped my hands and hung the towel over the sink’s edge. “Thanks.”

  Her blank expression worried me. She sniffled. “Can I see your hand?”

  “Um.” I exposed my palm to her, keeping my elbow tight at my side. When she reached for me, I pulled away farther.

  Her head tipped sideways. “You don’t want me to touch you. Why? You let Cross touch you. I see you.” She righted her head. “I see him touch you.”

  His voice boomed outside the trailer. “Mouse!” The door swung open. “Collin didn’t want me. Why’d you send me over there? What the hell are you doing in my trailer?” His eyes searched mine.

  I couldn’t speak. Before she answered, he crushed himself between us in the minuscule space and pushed me back, toward the kitchen table, making room for her to leave.

  “Get out.”

  Mouse turned as we moved, locking her eyes on Cross. “I was helping Mercy.”

  He motioned to the door. “Time for cake. Let’s go.”

  She moseyed out the door at a snail’s pace.

  Cross spun on me. “Are you okay? What did she want?”

  My heart pounded in my chest. “Nothing. She was fine.” She had no personal boundaries, but at least she wasn’t mean this time.

  The rich scent of hazelnut coffee buttered the air. Two pots were plugged in to exterior outlets outside the side of the Lovells’ giant camper. On the table, where we’d had lunch, a line of pillar candles led the way to a three-tier cake. Each layer was perfectly round and coated in smooth, white frosting. Small black candy flames and music notes formed bands around each level. A black-and-silver guitar adorned the top.

  “Wow.” I bumped Cross with my shoulder. “That’s a very manly cake.”

  Anton waved us over. “Cake, man.” He shoved a trio of sparklers into the top and lit them. Sparks shot over the cake, shimmering and crackling with color against the stark white icing. When the light show ended, everyone clapped and cheered. Anton handed Cross a serving knife. “It’s your cake. You cut the first slice for luck.”

  Cross stepped forward to shake Anton’s hand and the crowd closed in on them, chanting for cake.

  I went to pour us some coffee.

  The eerie jangle of bracelets stopped my heart. Nadya stood beside me, as cool and silent as Mouse. She examined my henna-covered palm as I reached for the coffeepot.

  I shrank under her stare. “Rose offered.”

  “You want to know about your sister.” Not a question. Right to the point.

  Okay. “Yes, ma’am. You read her palm that weekend…when she died. I want to know what you said to her, and I want to know the real reason you left in a hurry that night.”

  Cross emerged
from the crowd with two plates and concern on his face. He headed straight for us. This was my chance to be brave. Cross was right here and so was the person with the answers I needed.

  I looked into Nadya’s wide brown eyes. “I think you saw something that you never told anyone and it might help me figure out how Faith’s last night on earth played out. Maybe none of it matters anymore, but I missed a lot these last three years and I want to know how she ended up in the river.” Honestly, didn’t everything boil down to that one detail? “Do you know about that?”

  She closed her heavily decorated lids and inhaled. “When I read her palm that weekend, I saw nothing. No future. Just sadness. Blackness. I told her so and she said she already knew.” Nadya opened her eyes. “She wanted to know what I saw for her, but that was what I saw for her.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  Nadya placed a hand over her throat. “I couldn’t breathe.”

  Cross tossed the plates on the coffee stand when he arrived and took my hands. “What’s going on?”

  Words jammed in my throat. I forced them off my tongue. “I asked about Faith’s palm reading.”

  Nadya’s eyes widened. Her expression was grim. “Her reading hurt me.” She yanked a handful of black hair from beneath a jeweled veil. One wide streak of gray lay in the thick mass. “Your sister changed me. She had loss in her soul and loss in her future. She was coming apart in my hand.” Nadya opened and shut her palm as if it pained her. She kneaded her hands together. “I couldn’t sleep. The sound of the river was a thousand screams in my head. I clawed my hair all night, wrestling the blackness.” She pounded her fisted hands against her stomach. “I hurt in my gut. I needed to get as far away from here as possible.” She lifted her chin. “And we went.”

  Silence encompassed us. I scanned the silent, motionless crowd.

  I wasn’t finished. “You didn’t see Faith get in the river?”

  She shook her head. Defeated. “No.”

  “Did you see who was at the river with her?”

  “No.” She barked the word. A mix of pain and anger swelled her cheeks and narrowed her eyes. “I saw nothing. Blackness. Loss. Emptiness. There was no future to tell. Her lifeline was nah!” She sliced a hand across her throat.

  I opened my henna-covered palm. Rose had placed a cross on my lifeline. Was there a reason for that? Was it really about romance or did Rose have her mom’s gift? Was I doomed like Faith?

  I thrust my hand forward. “Read my future.”

  A hush rolled over the crowd.

  Nadya glared. I’d challenged her in front of everyone. She pierced me with a painful stare. Moments ticked past. My hand grew heavy between us. Tears burned the backs of my eyes. Tom had said they didn’t do Gypsy curses. If she read my palm, I wouldn’t die like Faith. It was a silly thought I pressed down beneath my shoe. I curled the fingers of my free hand until nails bit into the skin of my palm. My mind raced back. No. He hadn’t said they didn’t do curses. He’d asked if I came to question them about curses. I locked my knees when they wobbled.

  Fast as a snake, Nadya grabbed my hand and pressed it to her chest. She shut her eyes and moved her lips. Her eyes opened and she uncurled my fingertips while cradling my palm in her hands. Her eyes stretched wide and she called out in a language I didn’t know.

  Murmurs spread through the crowd.

  Nadya dropped my hand and Cross gathered me in his arms, protecting against dangers unseen.

  “What?” he demanded.

  She untangled the necklaces from her neck and removed a long silver chain with trembling hands. She worked the metal free of her endless black hair and kissed the amulet at its end. Her weary eyes scared me. She looked smaller, tired. Afraid.

  “Mercy.” Her voice was a whisper. She tugged my hand away from Cross and pressed the amulet inside, folding my fingers securely over it. “You must wear this.”

  I opened my hand and examined the large blue stone set inside a crescent moon. The piece was three inches long and heavy, made of metal or iron, hanging from a wide silver chain.

  “I can’t accept this.” What had happened to her in the two minutes that we’d spoken? Had she aged?

  Nicolae strode across the space between the stunned onlookers and us. He shot Cross and me a warning look and turned Nadya toward their trailer. “Come, my heart. Let’s rest a while.” He steered her toward the crowd.

  She twisted in his arms, searching over one shoulder for me.

  “Wear it.” She lifted a shaky finger. “Death follows you.”

  Chapter 16

  Double Lock the Doors

  Nadya kept the sideshow busy for the rest of the week, and the more quality time Pru and I spent with Dad, the more fun family-time ideas he came up with. Over the next two days, my relationship with Cross devolved to text messages and short good nights on the roof because he had early morning practice or gigs in nearby towns. I missed him more than logic dictated.

  The black streaks in my hair were an inch shorter. Snipping the ends became my bedtime routine. Each morning, I felt lighter, but never guilty. I didn’t need more visual reminders of my guilt and loss. The black didn’t preserve anything, least of all Faith’s memory. Seeing her old friends and finding her sketchbooks had given me a much better idea of how to honor her. Tomorrow I’d visit the high school. Tonight, I had a boy to kiss.

  I stretched my legs. Pru’s jeans fit nicely. They clung appropriately, attractively to my growing curves. I’d never be built like the Lovell women, but the four pounds I’d gained were noticeable and I liked it. My tummy churned at the thought of food, but an influx of nerves demanded I wait to eat. Pru and I had plans for popcorn and a movie later. Meanwhile, I needed the right top for these jeans. Cross performed at Red’s in less than two hours.

  I crept down the steps to my old room. There was no need to be stealthy, but barging in seemed wrong on some level. Our old room was an altar.

  Pru bounced through her open doorway. “What’s up?”

  I stared at my old bedroom door. “I thought I’d borrow a top from Faith. Is that weird? Do you think she’d mind?”

  Pru shook her head. She pushed the door open and flipped on the light. “I think she’d like it. That’s what sisters do, right? Borrow one another’s clothes.” She tugged on the pocket of my pants as I passed her.

  “Thanks. These are really cute.”

  Pru sat on my old bed and dragged a pillow into her lap. “You’re welcome. Have anything in mind?”

  I shoved hangers across the closet bar. “Sort of. She wore it to graduation.” My fingers clutched the fabric. “How about this?”

  I pressed the cream-and-tan patterned peasant top against my chest. The breezy A-line shape and light cotton fabric were perfect for the night’s heat and, with the help of Pru’s jeans, they emphasized my new healthier figure.

  Her smile faded. “Your scars.”

  I pulled in a big breath. “I have an idea for that.” Inside Faith’s bottom drawer was a pile of beaded jewelry. I dug out the widest leather cuff bracelet and presented it to Pru. “The leather is cute, right? Earthy-looking? I think it matches the top and I love the turquoise beads in the center.”

  Pru waved. “Try it on.”

  I stripped out of my long-sleeved T-shirt and tossed it at Pru before tugging the lightweight blouse over my head. “What do you think?”

  Pru reached for my left arm, the uglier one, and lifted it in her palm. Her careful expression and lack of commentary stilled my breathing. It wasn’t in Pru’s nature to be careful or quiet, so what was she thinking? Would she understand now how messed up I was? Would she finally get why I hid? Silence gonged in my ears while I awaited her judgment. She’d never seen the scars like this. Not all at once. Never for her examination. Her swallow echoed in the quiet house.

  What could I say to comfort her? “Pru…” Words failed. My scars made people sad, unhappy, nervous. Regardless of my life choices mov
ing forward, those decisions were always on display.

  She released my arm and wrapped herself around my middle in a tight embrace. “I’m sorry.”

  I patted her awkwardly, unwilling to ruin her pretty curls or wrinkle the outfit she’d worked so hard on tonight. “It’s okay. Hey, I don’t do that anymore. Look. I can cover the worst of them with this bracelet. The others are barely noticeable.” I hoped. My gut ached. The scars burned.

  She squeezed me tighter, like the little sister I remembered, not the teen I’d gotten to know this month.

  The rigidity in my posture melted. “I wish I’d been stronger for you, but I promise never to check out like that again. Ever. Even when I’m gone, we’ll e-mail and text all the time and, in a couple years, you’ll be at Temple with me. You know Dad won’t let us go anywhere else.”

  Pru giggled and sniffled against Faith’s blouse. “I think you look beautiful. You don’t have to wear the bracelet.” Wide blue eyes turned up to mine. “But please wear Faith’s super-cute goddess sandals with this outfit.”

  Tears brimmed in my eyes. “You’ve got it.”

  We left the room as we found it, minus one top, bracelet, and sandals, and polished our looks in Pru’s room.

  My phone rang. I flipped it over and showed the screen to Pru. Unknown caller.

  She shrugged. “See who it is.”

  Well, duh. “Hello?”

  “Mercy Porter? This is Sara. I was a friend of your sister’s.”

  My knees buckled. “Hi, Sara.” I climbed the steps to my room in a trance. Pru stayed behind.

  Sara was my last chance at finding the truth. “Sorry about the rambling message I left earlier. Can you tell me about Faith’s last night?”