At two a.m., I find an open gas station and pull over to fill my tank. I stare at the sign instructing me to prepay, and run inside as best as I can with one weak leg, and throw two twenties at the cashier. I sprint back out, my breathing hard and uneven. I don’t want to end up on the news too — as a missing person. Who knows what could happen to me out here. There are some weirdos on the road at this hour. I catch a glimpse of myself in the rearview as the car fills. Okay, I look like a total weirdo. Ugh, my hair. It looks like I’ve been driving with my head. And makeup — there isn’t a scrap left.
I rest my face on the steering wheel. Gonna close my eyes for a little bit. Just rest the peepers.
The pump shuts off, and my head springs up. Wake up, Katie. Come on, you can do this. I slap my cheeks and shake my head around. I just want to sleep. Maybe if I pulled around back and parked the car, I could take a little nap and then —
No! I have to keep driving. Must keep going.
And though I have four dollars change coming to me, I peel out of the parking lot and join the truckers on the highway, my whole body rebelling at the fatigue.
Ten songs later, tears are flowing unchecked down my dirty face. I don’t know where I am. Don’t know where I made a wrong turn. Why didn’t I buy a map? I can hardly keep my eyes open. God, send me an angel. Send me some help. Send me a sign.
And then I see it. My headlights shine on the beautiful green surface.
In Between, five miles. Exit 86.
I let out a whoop of joy and follow the road until it leads me into In Between. I pass by cow fields, the old water tower, Gus’s Getcher Gas, Holly and Woody’s video store. Strength surges back into my body as I draw closer and closer to the Scotts’ house.
I’m crying again when I pull into their driveway, but tears of elation and relief.
With the key trembling in my hands, I open the front door and step into the darkness. I take a moment to adjust to the blackened interior, my mind recalling exactly where everything is in this house. I inhale deeply, soaking up the smell that was my comfort for so many months.
And then wave after wave of exhaustion hits me.
My body is stiff, and my limbs cry out for rest.
On stumbling legs, I make it to the living room and tumble onto the leather couch. The jangle of a collar announces Rocky’s presence, and I feel the familiar wet welcome on my hand.
“It’s me, Rocky,” I mumble. I tuck my hands under my head and close my eyes, drawing the safety of this place around me like the softest blanket.
And I smile at my last thought before sinking into unconsciousness.
I’m home.
Chapter thirty - five
AT THE SOUND OF MUFFLED voices, I try to pry one eyelid open.
“Is she dead?”
“I don’t know, Mother. Go get James.”
“You go get him. I want to stay here with Sleeping Beauty. If she’s dying, first dibs on her T-shirt collection.”
Someone lets out an exasperated sigh over me.
“Fine. I’ll be right back.” Heavy feet stomp. “Jaaaaaames!”
I feel a hand on my face. “Katie?” A gentle voice calls from far away.
I can’t seem to bring anything into focus. Images swirl in front of me. So tired. Where am I? Please let me go back to sleep. I think it’s still dark. Must sleep more.
“Katie, wake up, sweetie.” That’s funny. Sounds like Millie. Obviously I’m dreaming.
“Jaaaaaames!”
“Mother, for crying out loud, go get him.”
“Maxine?” House shoes slap up the hall and into the living room.
“Millie?” I smile at this voice. Sounds like my foster dad. Welcome to my dream, James. Now go fix me some pancakes.
“James, look — ”
I try again to peel my eyelids open at James’s gasp. I’m so not dreaming.
“Katie? But — but how? Katie, wake up.”
“I’ve been trying to nudge her awake for five minutes.” I feel Millie’s hand on my face. “James, I’m worried. Something’s happened. We need to call Mrs. Smartly and find out what child services knows.”
“Maybe we should let her sleep,” my foster dad suggests.
“Should we let her sleep?” James asks.
Yes, yes, let her sleep. She needs more sleepy time. More zs for me please.
“Katie, wake up.” A soft nudge on my shoulder. “Mother, back up. You’re going to smother her.”
“Katie Parker, if you don’t wake up right this instant, I’m telling James and Millie about the time you and I toilet papered the house of — ”
My eyes pop open.
“Well . . .” Maxine pats my cheeks with a smirk. “Good morning, sunshine.” She throws herself on the small space left on the couch. “Now what in the green beans are you doing here?”
I try to sit up, but my head is too heavy. “What . . .” I swallow and try again. “What time is it?” I look into the anxious faces of my foster parents.
“It’s five.” I continue to stare blankly at Millie. “In the morning.”
I groan and try to roll over. Five? That means I’ve only slept a little over two hours. I feel like death. Like microwaved death. Like death dunked in skunk juice. Like death drug through the sewer pond.
“Talk later.”
“I think we need to talk now.” Millie brushes my hair back off my face. “Katie, did you drive your mother’s car here? All the way from Middleton?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Does she know you’re here?” James asks.
“Nuh-uh.”
“Are the po-po after you?” This from Maxine. If I had the strength, I’d roll my eyes.
“James, get her something to drink. Some water or juice. Let’s get this girl awake.” A few minutes later my foster dad comes back with a glass of water. He clutches my shoulders and lifts until my head is propped against the armrest. I take the water and sip. My brain slowly begins to thaw, and the events of the last eight hours replay in my head like a bad movie.
“Oh, no.” I shut my eyes against the images. “Not good.” I hand the glass back to James.
“What’s not good? Can you tell us what happened?” Millie rests a hip on the back of the armrest.
“My mom . . .” I shake my head, not sure where to even start. How do you describe chaos? How do you sum up disaster? “She was on the news last night.”
“What for?” Maxine leans in.
I shrug a shoulder. “Robbery.”
The room erupts into questions.
When the story is all told, I slide back to lie flat on the couch, utterly exhausted, as if I’d just lived it again.
“Why didn’t you call us?” James’s severe frown wrinkles his forehead.
“Mom has my cell phone.” And then I remember another fact. “And your credit card. You’re definitely going to need to cancel that.” I hadn’t even gotten to use it.
“Let’s get her up to her room. James, why don’t you carry her?”
“That’s my room now!” But Maxine punctuates her outrage with a wink in my direction. “How come nobody ever offers to carry me to my room?”
“Because I’d be tempted to drop you.” My foster dad gently scoots his hands under my limp form and cradles me in his arms. “Here we go. Up to bed now. We’ll call Mrs. Smartly and she’ll contact the people from the state.”
“We’re going to take care of everything, Katie. Don’t worry about a thing.” Millie’s voice lulls me into a dreamy state as she chats all the way up the stairs behind us. “You just get some rest, and later, if you feel like it, we’ll go to the Fourth celebration.”
“Yeah,” Maxine barks. “This year I’m going to prove to them I’m not a fire hazard. Every year I go, the firemen always hover near me. And I don’t mean the cute ones, either.”
James lowers me onto my bed, and Millie pulls the sheet up, tucking it under my chin.
“’Night.” I yawn then smile up at three worried faces.
“I missed you guys.” And close my eyes. “Love you.”
And fade to black.
WITH THE SUN SHINING ON MY face and the sound of Maxine’s hooting laughter from downstairs, I finally wake up a few minutes shy of noon. I stretch my arms toward the ceiling, feeling like a totally new creation.
And then I remember my mom.
And the whole robbery thing.
And that I drove all night to get here.
But I am here. That’s the important thing. I know James and Millie will take care of it all.
I jump into the shower and let the spray rinse away all the grime and all traces of Middleton.
When I walk into the kitchen, with a freshly scrubbed face and my hair in a damp ponytail, Millie is just removing something from the oven.
Ahhh. Cookies. I sniff in appreciation. I look at the baked goods, then quirk a brow in question.
“Yes,” she laughs. “Chocolate chip cookies. The real kind. Not my gluten-free soy and nut cookies.”
“Yes!” I sidle next to her and help put the cookies on a rack.
“Are you hungry?”
“Starved.” I don’t tell her that I haven’t felt like eating in days. Not that there was anything in the house to eat anyway.
Millie scrambles up some eggs, fries three sausage links, and butters two pieces of toast, with a side of homemade strawberry jam. I sit at the bar and eat as she cleans the kitchen and puts in more cookies to bake. She looks like she could use a big breakfast herself. My foster mom has lost weight since I’ve been gone.
“So what have you heard?” I ladle on more jam.
A shadow steals across Millie’s face. “They found the man in question, but not your mom. But they have positively identified her as one of the robbers. The police will want to talk to you. Are you going to be okay with that?”
I nod and swallow a bite of eggs.
“We talked to Mrs. Smartly, and she has contacted Janice Holloway and Child Services of Norton County. I think Mrs. Smartly is going to pull some strings for us and speed along the process of our getting you officially placed in our care.”
I miss my mouth.
“No — ” Millie holds out a hand. “I mean you are staying in our care.” Her mouth lifts in a warm smile. “We are not letting you go again. But I was referring to the paperwork that will need to be done to put you officially in our foster care.”
Despite all the junk in my life, my heart lightens at this. Not that I doubted it, but it’s still good to hear James and Millie want me. And they would fight to keep me here.
“Hey, sweet pea.” Maxine sails through the kitchen and swats me on the rump. “You were snoring like an old man with sinus issues.”
“I was not.”
“The local lumber yard is quieter than you were.” Maxine parks herself on the stool beside me. She glances at Millie, who has returned to the cookies. “I’m going to be needing your assistance.”
I take a swig of juice. “With Sam?”
She purses her cherry-glossed lips. “He is now seeing Mabel Doolittle, and . . . I feel we need to discourage this — for his own good. She ain’t nothin’ but a gold digger.”
I blow OJ out my nose.
“Well, she is. Sam not only has retirement, but he has a steady income from working at the Valiant. A penny-pinching floozy like Mabel would love to get her hands on him.”
“I don’t particularly care where Mabel puts her hands.”
Maxine gasps and clutches her bosom. “Sam is caught in her web of deceit. He needs us, Katie.”
“Maxine, this is about you. You have obviously finally seen the light, and now you want Sam back. Have you thought about the fact it’s too late?”
She drums her manicured nails on the granite counter. “I am only acting out of concern for a friend. I was hoping you would value your friendship with Sam and do the same. Men are blind to the wiles of a crafty vixen.”
“Yeah, but enough about you.”
She bumps me with a hip and nearly sends me to the floor.
“Speaking of men . . .” Maxine waggles her perfectly arched brows. “Tell me about this Tate character you befriended in Middleton.”
Tate.
Oh, my gosh. Tate. I forgot about him. He must be wondering where I am by now.
“Can I borrow your phone?” I stand up. “I need to make a call.”
Millie turns around at my sharp tone. “Mine’s on the table over there.” She gestures to the breakfast nook.
“I have to call Tate and tell him I’m okay. He’s been stopping by the trailer every day to check on me.” What was his number? I wish I had my own cell phone. Was the last number a seven or a nine? Think, think, think.
I punch in the number that first comes to mind.
Some old man answers. I hang up.
I try another variation.
“Heavenly Days Funeral Parlor.” Nope. Definitely not him.
My breath whooshes with relief when Tate answers on the third try.
“Tate? It’s me.”
“Katie?” His sigh fills my ear. “Where are you? Are you okay?”
I hold the phone between my ear and shoulder and walk out to the back porch. His voice brings a smile to my face. “I’m fine. I guess you know my mom . . . um . . .”
“Yeah, yeah, I know. I’m sorry. Where are you?”
“I’m in In Between.”
“I’ve been worried sick about you. I didn’t know if you were with your mom or if something had happened to you.” He pauses, his breathing heavy. “So many things were running through my head.”
“I’m sorry. I had no way of getting in touch with you.”
“You could’ve come by on your way out of town. I would’ve driven you to In Between.” Now his voice sounds angry.
“I’m so sorry. I had to leave immediately. And it was late — I couldn’t just barge in on you and your family. When I saw my mom on the news, I just reacted. But I’m safe. And I’m home.”
“They haven’t caught your mom yet.”
“I know.” Which does send the occasional prickle of fear down my spine. “She’s messed up. I couldn’t help her.”
“It was never your job to help her.” The sting is gone from his voice. “I’m glad you’re okay. I’ve been praying like a madman for you.”
I give him the house number and remind him about the date auction next week. “You guys should come up for that. Should be a great time. Chihuahua Days are quite the thing, I hear.”
I can hear his smile. “Who could pass up something called Chihuahua Days? I’ll ask Ashley and Jake and see if any others want to go. I have a feeling we haven’t truly lived until we’ve experienced it.”
Actually you haven’t truly lived until you’ve seen your mother on TV robbing a pharmacy. Now that’s a good time. “Yeah, it would be nice to see you . . . and the gang.”
“I’m so glad you’re okay. Everyone here will be very relieved.”
“Thanks.” I gaze at the familiar backyard. “Thank you for everything. You were my Middleton best friend.”
And awkward silence.
“Anyway,” I rush to say. “Tell everyone hello and thanks for the prayers. I’d better get back to my family.”
“Take care of yourself, Parker.”
“I will. I’ll miss . . .” Hundreds of words dangle on my tongue. “The Sunday school kids.”
“There won’t be another Noah like you.”
Chapter thirty - six
THE WORLD IS RIGHT AGAIN. Well, except for the giant detail of my missing mother.
Millie convinces me to keep my presence in In Between a secret until we can surprise everyone at the Fourth of July celebration. And when Frances spots me, she squeals like a bottle rocket.
We hug like long-lost sisters. “Oh, my gosh! I thought you weren’t coming!”
My smile stretches so wide, my cheeks hurt. “I’m here.”
“I can see you’re here!”
“No, I mean, I’m he
re to stay.” Questions flash in Frances’s dark eyes. “My mom got into some trouble.” I look at the other churchies now flocking around us and give her that secret look only a best friend could decipher. I’ll fill you in later.
“Where are your crutches?”
“Millie twisted some arms and got the doctor to see me this morning. I don’t ever have to see the crutches again.” Those poles of evil. “And the Aircast is gone. I just have to do some therapy exercises and start getting in the habit of using my ankle again.”
“Hi, Katie.” Charlie’s gray eyes sparkle. “Did I hear you say you’re home for good?”
“Yeah.” I search his tanned face. “Can you handle that?”
He pulls me into a hug. “I think I’d like to try.”
“Welcome back.” I pull away from Charlie and find Chelsea standing to my left, her blonde highlights overtaken by her natural light brown shade. She fumbles with the strap on her purse, oddly nervous.
“Hey.” My greeting comes out more like a question. Chelsea looks like I felt last night — like she spent the entire evening in the spin cycle of the washing machine. Circles hang beneath her eyes and her chin no longer sits at such a high angle. “Is this your sister?” I point to the mini Paris Hilton beside her, decked out in a flouncey dress and layers of costume jewelry.
“Yeah. This is Cassidy.” The younger version of Chelsea bestows a toothy grin on me and clings to her sister. I notice Cassidy’s shoes are on the wrong feet and wonder that Chelsea would let her out of the house with that fashion violation. “We’re going to walk on and get Cassidy something to drink, but I wanted to tell you . . .” Chelsea’s intense eyes seek mine, as if she’s on the verge of saying something profound. She blinks. “Um . . . I just wanted to tell you it’s good to see you.”
“Right,” I say to her retreating back. “Good to see you too.” Then I zoom in on my friends. “What was that about? She looks terrible. Is she sick?”
An awkward silence descends. “She’s had a really hard time lately. Since her dad went to jail, her mom has pretty much fallen apart. All she does is stay in her room and cry, so Chelsea’s had to take over since her older sister moved away to college.”
I can tell Charlie is waiting for me to say something catty. But I don’t. I’m not into kicking girls while they’re down. Even if they’ve never been nice to me a day in my life just because I didn’t carry a Fendi bag or have the right kind of jeans. And just because she made me feel inferior all the time and reminded me at every opportunity my mom was in prison, I won’t throw it back in her face.
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