In Place of Never

by Julie Anne Lindsey

  Pru pulled the computer onto her legs. “What’s her name?”

  I pointed. “Open the third tab up top. That’s the best article I found on her.”

  Pru clicked and scrolled. “Let’s start with the city where she left the show and see if anyone in town performs independently or if there are any clubs where she might’ve gotten a job.”

  I went to my vanity and lifted a brush to my hair. “She could be married with kids by now. Maybe she went to college or joined the army.”

  “Right.” Pru’s fingers danced across the keys. “I’ll check.”

  I slid the scissors from my side drawer and clipped the black ends of my hair, taking a little more than the day before. “You know what? Screw this.” I combed the ends flat and whacked them off.

  Pru jumped off the bed. “What are you doing?”

  I handed her the scissors. “Can you cut a straight line?”

  “No.”

  “Can you cut an almost straight line?”

  She grabbed the spray bottle off my vanity and wetted my hair. “Turn around. How much do you want off?”

  The me in the mirror looked confident. Assured. All the things I’d lost. “Chop it.”

  “Chop it? That’s not a measurement. Tell me in inches.”

  Memories of Faith’s face swam before me. “How many inches are required for Locks of Love?”

  Pru moved to the laptop while I braided my hair. “The website says at least ten inches.”

  I wrapped a band around the ends of my finished braid. “I know why Faith cut her hair. She wasn’t suicidal. She wanted a new start.”

  Pru appeared behind me in the mirror. “Are you ready for your new start?”

  “Chop it.”

  Pru’s smile brightened the room. “As you wish.”

  I smiled back. “We should watch Princess Bride tonight.”

  She worked the scissors across the nape of my neck. “Yeah, if we aren’t weaving this back on.” The scissors took their last snip and she waved a foot-long braid over my head. “Huzzah! Give me another rubber band.”

  My hands gripped the cold skin at the back of my neck. “Good grief. I hope it grows three inches before winter.”

  Pru tied up the other end and tossed the hair onto my dresser. “What do you think?”

  I tugged the weird side pieces dangling over my ears in a bob. “I look Amish.”

  “I can fix that.” She lifted the comb and scissors. “But you have to trust me.”

  I shut my eyes. Why not?

  Ten minutes later, she fluffed my hair with her fingers. Scissors clattered into the open drawer beside me. “Voila!”

  I opened one eye. Then the other.

  My hair was short in the back and tapered down toward my face. Long bangs swept across my forehead. The hair over my ears danced at chin length, tickling my cheeks as I turned my head to see every angle. “It’s adorable. How did you do that?”

  She turned the laptop screen to me. “Internet.”

  Where she learned everything. I laughed. “I love this. I feel ten pounds lighter.”

  “Really? You look a little heavier. You’re filling out that tank top, if you know what I mean.”

  “Shut up.” I dusted hair off my shoulders and shirt. She was right. My bra was snugger. Very Pru of her to notice.

  “I need a shower.”

  Drying my new style took less than five minutes, a grand improvement over the twenty I’d spent on it before. I opened the bathroom door, ready for anything.

  Pru paced the floor, chewing her nails. “I found Trina Wedgewood. Her obituary was in the paper two days after the Lovells left town.”

  Okay. I wasn’t ready for that.

  Chapter 18

  Letting Go

  Trina Wedgewood had died in a car accident the day the Lovells left her behind. She’d driven too fast on a country road, hadn’t made a curve, and wrapped her car around a tree. No one else had been injured. She was twenty-two. The local papers had covered the accident in a series of articles about lowering speed limits on county roads but made no indication of foul play.

  Pru painted polka dots on royal-blue toenails while I researched and considered the unbelievable timing. “More coincidence?”

  She blew on her feet and shot me a wayward look. “Are you rethinking your crush on Cross yet?”

  “It’s not a crush.”

  She stretched her legs out in front of her. “Do tell.”

  What could I say? I had less experience with boys than my little sister. “Isn’t a crush an unrequited interest? Cross likes me back.”

  “He leaves soon.”

  I raised my eyebrows and shrugged. “I know.”

  She puffed out her cheeks and stared at the carpet. “What happens when he leaves?”

  A deeper concern masqueraded in her words. Could I handle another loss?

  “I don’t know. I guess I’ll feel sorry for myself and cry. You’ll show up with some ice cream and a horrible boy-band documentary and refuse to leave until I smile. Something annoying like that.”

  Pru raised her eyes. “Documentaries are like science. You love science.”

  “I hate science.”

  She laughed. “How can you hate science?”

  “How can you like boy bands?”

  Pru scooped something off the floor and hooked it over her thumb. “Take it back.”

  A hot-pink elastic hair tie pointed at my face. “You wouldn’t.”

  She released the band and it landed six inches in front of her.

  “That was pathetic.” I snatched it up, laughing as she rolled onto her side in hysterics.

  Pru’s laughter was contagious.

  I sighed. “You’re a nut.”

  I set the laptop on the dresser to cool my legs. “I don’t think Nadya had anything to do with Trina’s accident.”

  She rolled onto her back and flopped her arms wide. “How can you be sure?”

  “She threatened the other girls into leaving, or bribed them. Why bother Trina once she’d agreed to leave the show? It’s like Nadya giving me the amulet and telling me I’m in danger. It’s illogical. Why tell me I’m in danger if she planned to hurt me? Why kill Trina if she was already gone. See? Seems counterproductive.”

  Pru pointed at me. “We don’t know about the timing of that day. Nadya could’ve arranged the accident and then rushed the show out of town.”

  The same scenario Dad and some others believed surrounded Faith’s death. Pru had a point.

  I grabbed a slab of cardboard off the stack Dad had dropped off while I was in the shower. Moving boxes. I popped it open and taped it into submission. Time to pack some winter things for college. I dropped a stack of sweaters into the box. Memories of Faith, with her new short hair, packing art supplies for college raced over me like deja vu.

  “Hey, do you think Dad would care if I take Faith’s unopened art supplies to the high school and donate them to the art department?”

  Pru rose onto her elbows. “No. He loves giving stuff away.”

  True, but he’d kept her room closed up like a shrine. “You think he kept her things all this time for us?”

  She chewed her lip. “I don’t know. Maybe. Letting it go feels like admitting she’s gone. Maybe he was giving us time to get here on our own.”

  “Dad’s considerate like that. Sometimes I forget.”

  She sat and crisscrossed her legs, careful not to dislodge the toe separators and ruin her pedicure. “Aren’t you keeping her art things? They were her life.”

  I shoved my box of sweaters against the wall. “I’m keeping her sketchbooks and used things, but she had a ton of new things for school. Seems like a shame to leave them in a box.”

  Pru stood on her heels and duck walked through the doorway, careful not to smudge her artwork. “I’ll help you get them together.”

  I followed her. “I got them together. All the new supplies
are in a box on her bed. You want to come to the school with me and see if anyone’s there from the art department?”

  She made a stinky face. “Ew. No. I have to go back soon enough. Besides, I’m hanging online with the squad later. I’m grounded for life, remember?”

  I laughed. “No. I forgot. You seem to go wherever you want.”

  She hobbled down the steps. “Yeah, under cloak of night.”

  We parted ways at Pru’s room and I grabbed the box of new supplies. On my way out, I left the door to our old room open. Closing it seemed as strange today as leaving it open had before. Faith’s memory shouldn’t stay locked in a room.

  I leaned through Pru’s open doorway. “I’ll be back in a few.”

  She stared into her closet. “Later.”

  For a girl bound to the house, she worried plenty about her wardrobe.

  I jogged down the steps and out the front door, temporarily blinded by the sun. Heavy morning rain had left puddles on the sidewalk and suffocating humidity in the air. Thankfully, my new haircut invited the breeze across my neck and shoulders.

  The walk to school was short and familiar. Hard to believe I’d never race the morning bell again or fight my way upstream through unloading buses. The student lot was deserted, but a few teachers gathered in faculty parking wearing matching softball uniforms. I waved to Mr. McGee, the art teacher. Today was my day. Pretty weather. New haircut. Perfect timing on my arrival.

  Mr. McGee smiled as I approached. “Mercy Porter, I barely recognized you. How are you doing?”

  “Good.”

  The other teachers watched in silence. What does crazy Mercy have in the box?

  I lifted the offering toward him. “I have a donation for the art department.”

  He hefted it into his arms with a crooked brow. “Yeah?”

  “They were Faith’s. She bought supplies for college but never had a chance to use them. I thought maybe you could use them here. She wouldn’t want good supplies going to waste. She’d want them creating something beautiful.”

  His chin quivered. Mr. McGee coughed into his fist. “Well. Mercy. I don’t know what to say about this.”

  I forced my most sincere smile. “Thank you?” I stepped back, distancing myself from the box. Letting her things go was easier in theory than execution.

  He balanced the box in one arm and outstretched his free hand. “Thank you.”

  The other teachers whispered and smiled.

  I stuffed my hands into my pockets after a quick shake and turned for home, a little freer.

  Mr. McGee followed me several paces. “Mercy?”

  “Yeah?”

  He looked unsure. I bristled in anticipation.

  “If you have a favorite piece of Faith’s work, perhaps something made in my department or relevant to our town, anything you think she’d like to see displayed here.” He batted glossy eyes. “You bring it on over and we’ll matte and frame it. Faith was a talented young woman. I had the privilege of working with her for several years. She saw beauty everywhere, especially in places we tend to overlook. I’m proud to have known her. I’m sure her work would inspire other students.”

  In two big steps, I hugged Mr. McGee. “Okay.”

  His body went rigid as he patted my shoulder.

  “Good-bye.” I jogged to the end of the block before wiping the tears from my face. “Wow, Faith. Was there anyone who didn’t love you?” I joked into the sky, absorbing the warm air and sunshine.

  Sheriff Dobbs’s cruiser turned the corner. I stutter stepped, unsure if I should run or play it cool. Running seemed guilty. I waited for his car to get near and I waved. Friendly. Casual. The cruiser slid against the curb facing me. He opened his door and climbed out as I approached.

  He leaned his forearms on the roof. “I almost didn’t recognize you, Mercy. You’re changing so much this month, I’m half afraid to take my eyes off you.” His easy smile seemed different…off. He was miffed about my visit to his home. I knew his secret. Brady was a mess.

  I stopped across the car from him and ran my hand over the back of my neck, suddenly regretting the exposure of my new hairstyle. “I’m getting ready for college, I guess. New look. New beginning.” I let my hands fall to my sides. Tugging my hair looked insecure. I wasn’t that anymore.

  Sheriff Dobbs’s gaze followed my henna hand to my side. “Everything okay?”

  I clasped my hands behind my back. “Mm-hmm. Yeah. Fine. You?”

  He dragged his gaze over me like a suspect. “Did you hear about what happened to that poor girl at the campgrounds last night?”

  “Yeah. Dad was called for counseling. He didn’t tell me much.” I squirmed under his scrutiny. “He said you didn’t catch the attacker and I should be careful. He told me to stay away from the campgrounds.”

  Sheriff Dobbs removed his hat and balanced it in his fingers. “I have to agree with your dad. Steer clear of the campgrounds. Maybe spend less time with your new friends. I’m sorry to tell you, but they’re no good, honey.”

  I cringed. Pet names were for infants and lovers. I was neither. “I guess you haven’t heard. I don’t have any friends.”

  Sheriff Dobbs narrowed his eyes. “I’m adding extra patrols at the campgrounds until we find the person who hurt that girl. If you’re out there, I’ll know and will tell your dad. I hope you can understand. He doesn’t want you there, and I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

  “It’s fine. I’m not. I don’t.” I huffed. “I don’t go near the campgrounds.”

  If he was good at his job, he saw through the blatant lie. I wiped my palms over my pant legs.

  He sucked his teeth and frowned. “Why’d you visit Brady last Sunday?”

  I stared over the roof at him with desperation in my lungs. “I asked him to tell me about the night Faith died.” The obvious slapped me in the face. He wasn’t just Brady and Mark’s dad. He was the sheriff. “I spent so long grieving, I forgot to ask questions about why she was gone. Now I’m ready for college and I still don’t know what happened that night.”

  I leaned against his car, focusing all my energy into convincing him to talk to me. “Tell me what happened. Was she alone? Do you think she wandered too close to the water and fell in? I know she had been drinking.”

  He stiffened. “I think you’re probably right, but there were no eyewitnesses and her phone was ruined. She didn’t leave us much to go on. She spent some time in the river. Hours. Any evidence that might have existed was washed clean before we had a chance to examine it. You already know about the alcohol in her system. That’s all we’ve got.” He examined his hat. “I’ve never told you, but I’m real sorry about what happened to Faith.”

  I nodded. “Why do you think Dad didn’t tell us about the alcohol?”

  His expression fell. “Maybe he didn’t want you to remember her that way. I’m sure he didn’t want you to remember her mistakes.” His eyes trailed over my hair and down to my henna hand, resting on the car roof. “Or repeat them.”

  I pulled my hands away.

  He stuffed the hat back onto his head. “I’d appreciate it if you kept your conversation with Brady to yourself. He’s having a tough time right now. No need to get the town rumor mill started.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  He pressed the brim of his hat over his eyes and ducked behind the wheel of his cruiser.

  I speed walked away, texting Cross.

  “Miss you. My room at midnight?”

  My phone buzzed thirty seconds later.

  “Anytime. Anywhere.”

  * * * *

  Dad had exhausted himself with the all-nighter and gave up his plans for a repeat. He crashed on the couch before ten.

  Cross climbed through my window at midnight.

  His presence impressed me every time. Tall and lean. The face of a warrior. The heart of a hero.

  I slipped my hands behind his back. “Hey.”

  He dra
gged his fingers through my hair. A frown pinched his forehead. His tongue swept across his bottom lip, pressing the little silver ring in circles. His gaze danced over my features as both hands explored my new hairstyle. One hand curled against the back of my head. The other palm pressed to my cheek. “Hey.”

  He lowered his face to mine. Slow and careful, he pulled my bottom lip between his.

  I shivered.

  Cross stepped free of my hold and circled me like a shark. His hands glided over my bare arms. His fingers traced the thin straps of my tank top and the hem of my sleep shorts. I climbed onto my bed and waited for his assessment.

  “You look different.”

  I smiled. “You think? A little?”

  He stood before me. I parted my knees and Cross leaned forward, pressing me back against the soft down comforter. “I like this look on you. Strong. Defiant. Alive.”

  I waited for a kiss that didn’t come. Instead, he traced the contours of my body with his hands. His eyes rarely left mine. “You’re beautiful.”

  There was no waver in his tone or expression.

  “You don’t miss the long girlie hair?”

  He shook his head. “I would want you if you were bald.” He dropped a kiss on my temple. “Twice my weight.” He kissed my throat. “Had hairy legs.” One long finger hooked in the waistband of my shorts. “Talked like a trucker.” He kissed my lips. “I fell hard for this.” He laid a palm over my heart. His soulful eyes burned with emotion. “The rest is icing.”

  I wrapped my hands around his neck and pulled him to me. His kisses boggled the mind, as did my luck of finding him. One perfect soul, an exact match to mine, had traveled to my town only weeks before I planned to leave. He’d arrived on the day I woke from a three-year sleep. Times like these I questioned the sanity of those who didn’t believe in divine intervention. Fate. Destiny. Some force greater than human understanding.

  Cross tugged his shirt over his head. His bare chest pressed against me as our breaths became one. My thin tank top revealed all my scars, but he didn’t seem to see them. He lifted his mouth from mine. “Are you okay?” The words were labored.

  “Yes.”

  My fingers slid against a sheen of sweat as I clung to his back, trying desperately to get closer.