Breathe into Me
Page 12
“I did actually say that.” The blond man strode through the doors, towering over the smaller valet. His voice was good humored when he ruffled the younger man’s hair. “Jasper, you need to live a little. I’d pay good money to see my dad’s reaction.”
“Respectfully. sir, it would be me your dad would fire if he caught it out there.”
Andrew sighed. “You’re probably right.” He beckoned to me as I grabbed the paperwork from the passenger seat and handed the valet my keys. “Come to my office, we can discuss pay and do the paperwork, then I can take you on a tour of the property.”
We walked through the doors and took an immediate left down a long hallway. Two glass doors later, Andrew held open an office door and led me toward a large desk. The window overlooked the outdoor pool one floor down. Palms and tropical plants lined the edges, and I could see several people lounging on the white chairs. Only one man was actually in the water, doing laps down the length of the pool. “Looks peaceful,” I said, indicating the view.
“That’s the way we engineered it. Looks can be deceiving, however, but image seems to be all that counts.”
I wasn’t sure what to say to that, and even Andrew seemed perplexed by his outburst. He shook his head slightly then indicated a chair. “Why don’t you have a seat?”
He took the papers out of my hand as I sat down across from him. It felt weird to see someone so young in charge of such a place. I would have expected someone much older. Andrew was tall with wide shoulders, and in the polo shirt and khaki pants he could easily have been mistaken for someone older from behind. Maybe it was his air of self-assurance that belied his age, as if he was used to the weight of responsibility.
“Once upon a time we had a full-time piano position, but times changed and budgets grew tighter. The older folk still expect it, however, so we usually keep someone around. Our last player commuted from up near Biloxi every day, and she had some issues with tardiness, so I was hoping for a local.”
“Do I actually have the job?”
Andrew smiled to put me at ease. “You do, we just need to iron out pay and benefits.”
Benefits? I’d never had a job with any kind of benefits. This was my first music job, too, so I had no idea what to ask for pay-wise.
“We dealt with the last player like a contractor, paying the mileage to and from her house. Since you’re a local girl we’ll probably forego that and just raise your pay a bit.”
“Sounds great to me,” I said enthusiastically, and then winced. “Sorry, I’m just a little excited.”
He grinned, then handed me a folder. “You seem to have a good repertoire of songs already but here’s some sheet music of our most requested songs. Do you have someplace where you can practice?”
I thought about the untuned piano in Everett’s guesthouse and shook my head sadly. “No worries,” Andrew said smoothly, “we can find you something to use. Maybe one of the churches could give you a room, or you could use one of the smaller pianos in the back. You don’t seem to live that far away from here, so maybe that would be easier.”
I froze when he mentioned my address. I hadn’t wanted to put down my grandmother’s mailing address as I didn’t want to be judged, but it was all I had. From his expression, however, Andrew either didn’t know or didn’t care where I lived. “I’d love to practice here.”
“That’s settled then. Now, let me give you a tour of the facility.”
True to his word, Andrew showed me around the main clubhouse. He even took me on a short trip along the golf course in one of the carts. If I hadn’t long since given up on the myth of the Southern gentleman, I’d think Andrew was the real deal. He was charming, handsome, and from the looks of things, rich.
He’d make a great catch, but he didn’t seem interested in me and for that I was grateful.
“Membership isn’t necessarily necessary to use the golf courses, but it is required to use the other—.”
He cut off abruptly when a girl came shooting out around a corner, slamming into him. Andrew caught her, holding her steady so she didn’t fall to the floor. She gave a cry of dismay, however, as the contents in her arms spilled all over the ground at our feet. Golf balls rolled down the hallway, bouncing off the walls and out the door toward the course.
“Oh no, I am so sorry …”
“Clare?”
My friend turned wide eyes up to me, blinking owlishly. Beside me, I heard a deep chuckle, and then Andrew knelt to the ground. “It was my fault, Miss Bishop,” he said, picking up the wire containers strewn about the floor. “Let me help you clean this up.”
Andrew was staring at the ground so he didn’t see the flush that suffused Clare’s face. She shared a horrified look with me, and then mouthed the words Oh my God before dropping to her knees. “I’m such a klutz,” she moaned, scooping up the golf balls.
“Here, let me help,” I said, kicking over some of the ones that had rolled farther away. It gave me a chance to be helpful, and watch what was happening. Andrew’s eyes never left the mortified Clare as she darted around the narrow corridor. Clare herself pointedly didn’t look at her boss, keeping herself busy while continuing to apologize.
There was something in the air I couldn’t identify that linked the two, but it made me smile. I made a mental note to ask Clare what she thought of our boss the next time we were alone.
Andrew watched Clare disappear around the corner, and then seemed surprised to see me. “Would you like to see more of the grounds?”
I shook my head. “Thank you for the tour, but I need to meet somebody tonight.”
“Let me walk you to the front then.”
Nobody said anything as the valet drove my truck to the ticket counter, but the boy behind the wheel was smiling as he slid out. I didn’t blame him, the truck made me feel that way as well. There were aspects to my new life that I’d wholeheartedly embraced, and jacked-up trucks were one. The old Bronco wasn’t much to look at in some circles, but she could spin the tires on a dirt road and never failed to make me smile.
Everett had already sent me a text asking when and where we wanted to meet.
< I need to head home and get my books first. >
I pulled into my mother’s parking spot, figuring I would be only a minute. The study aids were in a backpack on my bed, ready to go, and I was excited. The test was the next morning, and I could only cross my fingers that everything worked out. I’d barely gotten to the top of the steps, however, when the front door exploded open.
“You little bitch.”
Hands shoved at me and, caught off guard, I staggered backward against the low railing. My grandmother’s enraged face filled my vision as she pushed me again, this time sideways. I gave a shocked cry as my foot came down on empty air. I barely managed not to fall down the stairs by slinging my arms out sideways and grabbing the rails, but still landed on my backside. Above me, my grandmother stood at the entryway.
“You fucking … I knew you couldn’t be trusted!”
My heart racing, I scrambled backward on the gravel as she came down the steps. “Grandma…” I said reflexively, forgetting to call her by her first name like I usually did.
“Don’t you ever call me that again. You’re no blood of mine!”
Her words made my chest squeeze, my breaths going wheezy. I barely managed to get back onto my feet when she charged again, hands outstretched to grab me. It was fight or run, and I chose the latter, zipping around the Bronco to keep space between us. Her inexplicable rage both baffled and frightened me. I couldn’t understand what was going on, except that my grandmother looked mad enough to kill me.
I’d seen her angry before, but never like this.
“You eat my food, sleep in my bed, and yet you … you …”
“And yet I what?” I rounded the truck again as she came after me anew. At any other time I might have found our merry-go-round amusing, but I felt as if I was fleeing for my life and didn’t understand why. My grandmother had never hidden
her distaste for me, but I was blood. I was family.
“I should have never let you through my door.” Unable to catch me, Diana beat her fists on my truck. “You’ll pay for what you done to your baby brother.”
“What I…” My voice trailed off in confusion, then anger surged through me as I realized what she was saying. “Don’t you dare pin that on me,” I roared, pointing my finger at her. “You’re the monster who did that, not me!”
She came around the corner again, face red with rage, just as another car pulled into the gravel beside us. I turned to see my mother staring at us wide-eyed, her face ashen. My little brother sat in the backseat, straining to see what was going on. Then I had to move again as my grandmother reached for me, her long fingernails grazing my arm.
“Mom,” I called as she quickly exited the car, “you need to go. Get Davy out of here.”
To my horror, she ignored me, unbuckling my brother from his car seat and pulling him up into her arms. There was a haunted expression on her gaunt face I’d never seen before as she ignored me, hustling toward the trailer.
“Mom! What are you doing?” We’d figure out something. My income could get us a new place, one where my brother was safe.
“Gretchen, get him inside while I deal with this piece of trash.”
The words were like a dagger to the heart, but it was my mother’s silent compliance that twisted the wound and made it gush. “Mama,” I said softly, all of my disbelief and incredulity in that one word.
She paused for the briefest of seconds, not looking at me. “I can’t,” she whispered finally, and before I could even understand what she was denying, she hurried up the stairs and disappeared inside.
A rushing started in my ears as my throat closed even more, blocking off any air. Hands snatched at my arm, and I was tossed sideways, tumbling to the ground. All I wanted to do was curl up into a ball and cry, but the baseball bat I saw in my grandmother’s hands goaded me into action. She swung at me, cursing, and I dodged in time to see it dent the rear quarter panel of my truck.
“If I ever see you go near that boy,” she screamed as I scrambled to my feet again, “I will kill you. Do you hear me?”
She was readying for another swing just as I got to the truck door. I gave it an extra nudge with my foot, ramming it into her and sending her stumbling back. Pulling myself inside, I shut the door and started the car just as that metal bat connected with my driver’s side window. The glass shattered, spraying me with tiny shards.
I dropped the clutch, flooring it as the truck pulled backward out of the drive. My grandmother spun around, pulled by the momentum of the vehicle, but staggered after me anyway. I hit the brakes in time to miss a neighbor’s fence, and then gravel flew as I drove off as quickly as I could. My lungs wouldn’t allow me breaths but I didn’t care—I had to get out of there.
Small moans came from deep inside me, punctuating every wheezing breath. I got as far as main drag through town before darkness on the periphery of my vision made me pull off to the side. It felt like someone had put a clamp on my lungs. I couldn’t get enough air inside, and the sobs that desperately needed escape were choking me.
Staggering out of the truck, I bent over at the hips, trying to steady my breathing. I’d had asthma attacks before but this was the worst one I could remember. It didn’t help that I was crying, huge hiccupping sobs that did nothing to help the attack. Forcing myself to blank out everything else, I focused on getting my breathing under control. In, out. In and out.
Breathe in.
Breathe out.
The constriction around my throat lessened enough that I was no longer ready to pass out, but I knew I shouldn’t be driving. I’d also managed to cut my legs by accidently rubbing tiny bits of glass into the skin. While I couldn’t feel it, the blood was a red smear against my thigh. My injured foot was also throbbing, the pain intensifying as my adrenaline wore off.
Why, Mama?
All that was accomplished right then by thinking about what had happened was that my breathing grew more labored. So I emptied my mind and focused only on taking breaths. Shallow at first because that’s all my labored lungs would take, then eventually deeper.
I pulled my cell phone out of my pocket and dialed Everett’s number. To my surprise, I got a computerized voice saying my call could not be completed as dialed. Baffled, I hung up and tried again, with the same result. A desperate hiccup escaped me as I tried calling for a third time, then flipped the clamshell closed when I heard the same tones. Frustrated and in desperate need of help, I did exactly what I swore never to do.
I keyed in Macon’s number and pressed Send.
A big part of me prayed that he wouldn’t pick up, that it would go to voice mail and I wouldn’t have to speak with him. Unfortunately, Macon picked up on the second ring. “Hello?”
My jaw worked but I couldn’t get any words out. The logical side of my brain was screaming at me to end the call, but I couldn’t get my body to do it. My heart was broken, continuing to shatter into smaller and smaller pieces, and I couldn’t bear it. Macon had been the one I’d always called before, and no matter the situation he’d been there for me. Even if I regretted it later, even if I knew he might ask me to do things I couldn’t stomach, I knew that I could count on him to be there.
“Hello? Who is this?”
The words wouldn’t come. I squeezed my eyes shut, willing him to hang up the phone, but he continued to ask. His voice grew more belligerent the longer I stayed silent. Finally, he said, “Look if this is some kind of joke …”
A sob I’d been trying to hold inside escaped me, and Macon cut himself off in mid-sentence. “Lacey?”
The belligerence was gone, replaced by a cajoling voice I knew only too well. The familiarity and dread it produced made my skin prickle, but I couldn’t bear to hang up. Not now that my world was falling apart.
“Lacey baby, is that you? Do you need my help?”
My phone beeped in my ear, and I pulled it away to see an unfamiliar local number listed on the tiny screen. I hadn’t given out my new number to many people, so it had to either be work or someone I knew. Staring at the numbers made me realize what a mistake I’d made. If I was trying to start a new life for myself, why was I calling a remnant of the old one?
“Look, Lacey, if this is you, then I don’t have all day. Where are you?”
Macon’s voice was getting irritated again, and that finally propelled me into action. What was I thinking? Remaining silent, I ended that call and switched to the unknown number. “Hello?”
“Oh good, I was afraid you wouldn’t pick up an unknown number.”
I almost melted to the floor when I heard Everett’s cheerful voice. “I tried calling you,” I started, but my voice hitched at the end. God, I hadn’t realized how much I needed to hear his voice.
“Lacey, you all right? What happened?”
“I was kicked out of my grandmother’s house.” There was so much more than that—my suspicions about my brother, my mother’s betrayal, the fact that Macon now knew my number—but I couldn’t say any more.
“Where are you?”
Some small part of my brain was amazed I’d give him, who I’d only known a short while, that information while not Macon, but I shoved that aside and gave him my location. “Stay there, I’ll be there in five minutes.
The phone immediately went dead, but his words managed to give me one last push into resuming my normal breathing. I made my breaths slow and long, the constriction gradually easing from around my lungs, until I saw that ratty little hatchback pull up beside me. I got out of my truck and met him halfway.
“You okay?”
I nodded. “I had an asthma attack.” It was my second in almost as many weeks. Maybe it was time to get a refill on my old asthma inhaler medication.
“Come on, I’ll drive.”
It wasn’t my normal habit to follow orders, but I got into his passenger seat meekly and put on my seat belt. The ride was
quiet, as though Everett knew I needed space to think. I wouldn’t have been able to talk about it right then anyway, and I appreciated the silence. Even thinking about it made me want to start crying, and I knew if I started, I wouldn’t stop.
There were several cars parked out front of the mansion, as if for a party. Everett bypassed them all, heading around back toward the multi-story guesthouse. He shut off the car and got out first, moving quickly around the front to open my door. The gesture was gallant, which a part of me appreciated, but all I could do was exit the vehicle silently.
He unlocked the doors to the guesthouse and let me inside, turning on lights as he came in behind me. I saw immediately that someone had cleaned up the place; the sheets were off the furniture, and there wasn’t any dust to be found. “How did you know I was coming?” I asked, my attempt at humor falling flat.
“If I’d known you would be staying, I might have done more.”
“Staying?”
Not answering me, Everett moved on ahead of me toward the stairs. “Come on, let me show you the upstairs.”
There were three levels, each with numerous bedrooms like a hotel. It reminded me of servants’ quarters, although it didn’t look like it’d been used in years. The décor in the upper levels, while simple, was dated; some of the curtains and bedspreads looked threadbare, as if they’d been sitting for many years. They were, however, dust-free, as if an army of maids had gone through and cleaned it all out.
“The refrigerator downstairs has nothing but beer in it right now. We can move some food over from the house or you can come there in the mornings to eat.”
“Everett, really, you don’t need to …”
He shook his head. “There’s something else I’d like to show you.”
I followed him downstairs again until he stopped by the piano. A small smile tipped one corner of his mouth. “Try it again.”
The keys were clean, the dust gone from the shiny black surface of the cover. I gave him a look, then lowered myself into the bench, brushing my fingers along the keys before pressing down a three-chord note. Gone was the discordant harmony from before; the sounds that emanated from the strings were crisp and clear. “You had it tuned,” I said, a small smile forming on my lips.