“Elizabeth?”
She could hear the smile in his voice, but she looked back over her shoulder anyway. “What?”
“Keep your phone on.”
twenty-three
DRAKE
They told me at breakfast that those kids were coming back today. I scarf down my lunch, prowl the day room, and wait for the bus to pull up. The others that live here look comatose. Sitting around in wheelchairs or on the couches, some calling out incomprehensible words like their lives depend on it. Some days I think this place is hell.
I don’t want to be here. I don’t belong here.
Or maybe I do.
Last night I dreamed I was back home. Must have been home, because the rooms were familiar and I knew every inch of them. And the smell of the sea was all around. A beautiful woman with long blond hair sat in the room that looks out at the ocean, several small children running around her. The boys whooping and hollering, chasing each other in some game, a little girl in her lap pointing at a picture book, another girl sprawled on the couch, her nose in a thick book. Something by Dickens. And where am I? Just watching.
I try to speak, but they don’t hear me. Or don’t want to hear me. One of the boys races past my legs and I reach for him, but then he’s gone. They’re all gone. And I’m left sitting up in bed, sweat on my brow.
Alone.
I catch a glimpse of the yellow bus snaking up the driveway and my heart jumps. “Bus is here!” A couple of the old farts look up and grunt, but nobody seems to care. Perhaps I shouldn’t either. I find a chair in the corner and flop into it, playing with the frayed end of my untucked shirt. I remember last time we painted. Could have been last week or yesterday, I don’t know. But I do recall the sensation, the victory in accomplishing something I thought I’d forgotten.
My hands itch to hold a paintbrush again. Colors fly across my mind like a scarlet sunset settling over the calm sea after a long, hot day.
Soon they’re piling into the room, all grins and loud exuberance of youth. I reach back into memory and try to find some for myself. But nothing comes, so I sit in silence and watch them set up tables and easels. There she is, the girl. I remember her. The one with the gift.
She stands in front of me with an expectant look on her face. “Hey, Mr. Carlisle.”
“Hey yourself.” I don’t know why I say that. It’s something the young man who looks after me here says. He yammers on about his girl and his kid while he washes me and helps me dress. What’s his name? Garth or Gregory or who the heck knows. I focus on the girl and those pink streaks in her dark hair. I peer a little closer and tap the side of my nose. “What is that?”
She grins and twists the diamond stud sticking out of her right nostril. “Just a piercing.”
I widen my eyes. “Horrendous.” That makes her laugh.
A tall boy with blond hair and sparkling eyes hovers near the girl. I sweep my gaze over him and frown. Hmm.
“Easel’s all set for you, Mia,” the boy says with a goofy grin. And she rolls her eyes at me, confirming my suspicion. But I watch the way her cheeks pink up a little, and I think she kind of likes him too.
“Mia.” I get to my feet, grateful for the flash of clarity as I suddenly know that this is what she’s called. “What shall we create today?”
“Something with light,” she muses, assessing the canvas with careful eyes. “I’m having trouble with that, you know? Capturing it.”
I do know. “You have to let it come to you,” I tell her, opening the box of paints and sorting through the tubes. My hands seem to know what they’re doing even if my mind doesn’t. “If you force it, it will run away. You can’t fake it. Some things you have to wait longer for.”
“Huh.” She nods, all serious, like what I’ve just said makes all the sense in the world. I have no idea if it does or it doesn’t.
I glare at the tall kid. “You, boy, what’s your name?”
“Chris Cooper, sir.”
Something flickers in the dark part of my mind. “Cooper.” I sigh and the thought slides away. “We need water.”
“Yes, sir.” He shuffles off happily enough, and I shoot the girl a wink.
“Today, young lady, we are going to capture the light. Are you ready?”
___________
Mia followed the old guy’s brush strokes and hoped nobody would notice how bad her hands were shaking. Because this? This was the most freaking amazing thing she’d ever done in her whole life. And not that she wanted to boast or anything, but she was good. She’d no idea how easy it would be until she started doing it.
“Yes.” He stood back and nodded his head a bit, scrutinizing what she’d accomplished so far. The idea of painting Wyldewood came unexpectedly, but she could easily envision the early morning sun shooting off the long glass windows.
He knew the curve of the driveway, painted bushes and trees the way Mia imagined they’d looked before there were ladders and trucks and crap all over the front yard. It was too hot in the room, the heat turned up high for the old folks, and she longed to take off her sweater. But she couldn’t, so she suffered through and hoped they’d take a break soon. Drawing and painting usually took her mind off things, steadied her and gave life a little hope. Today her arms were itchy. She was nervous, afraid somebody would say something, call her out for the fraud she was, say maybe she wasn’t good at all.
“You have it, you know,” he said quietly.
Mia met his eyes, and something about the way he looked at her made her want to cry. Stupid. She put her brush down and scratched her arm. “Thanks.” That was dumb, but she couldn’t think of anything else to say.
“Gotta use the can.” Mr. Carlisle sauntered off, and Mia watched him go with a grin. She began tidying up their workspace, conscious of Chris Cooper making his way across the room. He stopped in front of the easel and gave a low whistle.
“That’s so good.”
Mia shrugged and swirled a paintbrush in a small jar of turpentine. “He did most of it.”
“No he didn’t. I was watching.” Chris smiled when she turned to face him. What was his deal anyway? “So I was wondering. Would you maybe want to go out sometime?”
“With you?” She blinked and tried to ignore the way her heart picked up.
He made a show of looking around them and grinned. “Well, yeah.”
“Oh.” Great. Now what? “I don’t date.” That would do it.
“You don’t like guys?”
She rolled her eyes. “I like guys fine. I just don’t trust them.”
“Aha.” He grinned as though he’d discovered the answer to a great mystery.
“What ‘aha’? It’s true.”
“Well, then I’m sorry to hear it.” He shook his head. “Do you drink coffee? Soda?”
“No.” She pulled off the paint-splatted apron she’d put on earlier and scrunched it between her hands.
“Ice cream?” He raised a brow. “Everybody likes ice cream.”
Well, she couldn’t argue with that. “I guess.”
“Great! So how about we hit up The Juice Bar after school?”
“Can’t. I work at the gallery in town after school, every day.” Didn’t get paid a dime for it though. Slave labor.
“Shoot, I forgot. That’s the place Lynette has her paintings. Are you going to show your work there too?” He sounded interested and she scowled, wishing Mr. Carlisle would come back.
“Am I what?” Mia stared and forced a smile. “No.”
“You totally should. You’d probably give Lynnie a run for the money.” He tipped his head toward the painting they’d done that day. Mia watched late afternoon light dance in his eyes and felt something shift. He was definitely cute. And nice. But that didn’t mean she’d be spending any time with him.
“Who’s giving me a run for the money?”
Mia jumped at the sound of Lynette Carlisle’s voice, and Chris laughed. Her smile squeezed Mia’s heart a little tighter. Liz was right behind her
, not looking nearly as happy.
Lynette stopped short at the easel, stepped back a little, then looked at Mia. “Did my Dad do that?”
Mia nodded, but Chris cleared his throat. “Actually, Mia did most of it. It’s really good, right?”
“It is.” Lynette nodded. “You’re very talented, Mia. Isn’t she, Liz?”
“Hmm?” Liz looked distracted as she flashed a tight smile. “Sure. Yes, it’s great.”
A blush warmed her cheeks, and Mia floundered for something to say. Her uncle was on the opposite side of the room, his back to them. She caught Liz scanning the room and noticed the way she looked back at them in a hurry when she realized Mia was watching her.
“Where is my dad anyway?” Liz asked.
“He went to the bathroom.”
And on cue, Mr. Carlisle magically appeared in the doorway and strode toward them. She silently thanked him for the intervention. She didn’t know what to say in front of Lynette. Liz’s sister was nice enough, but Mia found herself in awe of her talent, embarrassed that Lynette would give her any praise at all.
“Oh, look at that masterpiece!” Mr. Carlisle declared. “Who did that?”
Laughter snuck out of her, unexpected and definitely unwanted. Lynette and Chris laughed too, and Lynette kissed her father’s bristly cheek.
“Hi, Daddy.”
He startled a little and looked at her in silence. “Hello. Are you with this bunch?”
“Dad, it’s us,” Liz interjected. “Lynette and Liz. Your daughters.”
“Whatever you say.” Mr. Carlisle stepped away from them and studied the painting again. “Yes. That looks just about right.”
Hurt flared in Lynette’s eyes, but she quickly blinked it away. “Did you have a nice time today?”
“I suppose so.” He swung his gaze to Mia. “Did we have a nice time?”
“It was great.” Mia nodded and tried to dislodge the disturbing rock in her throat. The other kids were starting to pack up, and Uncle Matt told everyone it was time to go. He indicated to her to wrap it up. “Well, we need to get going.”
“Nice to see you again, Mia. You know, if you ever want to come over to the house, you’re welcome to use the art studio. It’s practically the only room they’re not smashing to bits.” Lynette laughed, and Liz looked like she’d swallowed a lemon.
“You can thank me for that.” Liz sounded annoyed. “I had to beg the architects to work around it. I was actually going to suggest the same, Mia. I’ll see what you’re up to next time I’m heading over to Wyldewood, shall I?”
“Uh, sure.” Mia shrugged, raising a brow when Chris caught her eye. Seemed like Liz didn’t care for her younger sister all that much.
Lynette touched her shoulder and smiled. “You guys better go. Looks like everyone’s heading out. Nice to see you again.” She turned her attention to her father. “Okay, Dad, shall we head back to your room for a bit? It’ll be dinner time soon, but I brought some pictures to show you. Remember I said I would?”
“Of course I don’t remember.”
Mia bit her lip to stop a grin, and started putting paints in the box Chris held. Mr. Carlisle tapped her head, and she almost dropped them all. “You come back soon, young lady. That’s an order.”
“Yes, sir.” Mia watched him go, sorry for Lynette. He clearly didn’t know who she was today. But at least she had a dad.
“I suppose I’ll go with them.” Liz sighed and shook her head. “Not that I’m needed any longer.” She marched off and Mia glanced at Chris.
“Is she always that fun to be around?” he asked.
“Liz is all right once you get to know her, really.” For some weird reason, she felt like she needed to defend her. Maybe she’d inhaled too much turpentine. “What are you grinning at?” Chris was looking at her in a goofy way that made her want to punch him.
“Nothing. You just look happy.”
“So? Is that not allowed?” What the heck was he talking about?
“Oh, it’s very much allowed.” His grin widened as he hoisted the box to one shoulder and flicked his hair out of one eye. “And just so you know, I will ask you out again. I don’t give up that easily.” He started to walk away, and Mia gave a loud sigh.
“Chris?”
“Ye-ah?” He made a slow turn, hope in his eyes.
Mia put a hand on her hip and pressed her lips together. “I don’t give in that easily. Just so you know.”
His resounding chuckle bounced off the walls and sang to her heart long after he’d left the room. Mia gathered up her things, ignored her uncle’s questioning look, ignored the other girls’ glares and whispered words behind hands, and ignored the longing to chase Chris Cooper down and say yes. Yes, she’d go out. Yes, to ice cream. Yes to being with someone who didn’t make her afraid all the time.
But what was the point? He’d find out who she really was sooner or later and kick her to the curb with the rest of the garbage. Right where she belonged.
twenty-four
Matthew cleaned the kitchen that Saturday morning with only the radio for company. His parents had gone off for the weekend. He grinned, remembering the blush in Mom’s cheeks this morning when they’d told him they were heading to The Wauwinet. He was happy for them. Somebody around here should be having some fun. Because in a minute, he was going to have to walk upstairs and have a conversation with his niece that would be about as far from fun as a funeral.
He finished the lukewarm coffee he’d poured earlier, took one last glance around the sparkling kitchen, opened the window a crack, then made his way upstairs. He stopped outside Mia’s bedroom. No loud music, but he heard her talking. That was odd. She didn’t spend a lot of time on her cell phone. Didn’t have many friends, at least not ones she was too eager to hang out with. There were a couple girls from her class that she’d talked about, but she pretty much kept to herself.
“Mia?” Matt knocked and waited until she yelled for him to come in. He didn’t do the usual head around the door first thing, because he’d probably chicken out and put this off. Instead, he stepped into her room like he meant business.
Mia sat cross-legged on her bed, holding her phone to her ear. “What?”
“Need to talk.” He pushed his hands into the pockets of his jeans and rocked back on the balls of his feet.
“I gotta go,” Mia said to whoever was on the other end of the call. “See ya tomorrow.”
She clicked off and put the phone down. A smile slid across her mouth, but she covered it quickly.
Matt raised a brow. “Who was that?”
“None of your business.”
“Ah. The Cooper kid.”
Her face turned three different shades of red. “I said none of your business.”
He grinned, swallowed rising emotion, and lowered himself onto the edge of her bed. “Is he a good kid?”
“How would I know? I guess so.” She shrugged and stretched over her legs.
“Well, you’re a pretty good judge of character, and you don’t let too many people get close, so I’m going to go with your instincts on this one.”
“We’re just friends, Uncle Matt.”
“Good.” He smiled. “I’m glad you have a friend.”
“Me too.” She fiddled with her phone. “Which is kinda weird. Because I never thought I wanted one. But . . . I don’t know. I guess it’s better than talking to Liz all the time, huh?”
“I guess.” Interesting. “You talk to her a lot?”
“More than I thought I would, that’s for sure. She’s actually pretty cool, don’t you think?”
“Sure.” He’d leave it at that. “So it’s okay then, having her next door?”
“It’s cool. I text her when you’re at work sometimes. Sometimes I go over. You said I should bug her instead of your folks, right?”
“Right. Well. That’s good.” No way was he going to get baited into discussing Elizabeth right now.
“What’s up with her and her sister though?�
�� Mia narrowed her eyes. “I mean, she gets all weird around her. Like the other day at Wyldewood when we walked in on them fighting, and at the old folks’ home last week. Like she’s jealous of her or something? I don’t know why. Lynette seems nice, but . . .” Mia shrugged. “It’s dumb, right?”
“I suppose sometimes siblings don’t always get along. Your mom and I have had our share of disagreements.”
“But my mom’s also a junkie, which probably has something to do with that.” She scanned her phone and put it down again. “Whatever. I’m glad Liz is there when you’re working.” She snorted and shot him a grin. “Never thought I’d say that.”
Matt smiled. His decision was easy, seeing her so much happier. “About that. Me working nights. I’ve been thinking. I might quit that job.”
Mia squished back against her many multi-colored pillows and scrunched her nose. “Why? I thought you needed the money.”
“Well.” He pressed a hand to the back of his neck. This wasn’t meant to be part of the conversation. “Um, so my mom’s parents, your great-grandparents?”
“The ones that lived here?”
“Yeah. So. My grandfather’s family was well-off. So he had a lot of money. They set up trust funds for your mom and I when we were little, and . . .”
“Trust funds? Like, you’re loaded?” Mia’s eyes shone with new revelation.
“I don’t know. I never touched it.”
“Why not? Are you crazy? Oh, wait . . .”
“Shut it.” He chucked a stray cushion at her. “I just wasn’t into all that. The money, the status, being a trust fund kid. My parents tried to talk me into using the money for college or for traveling. But I wanted to make my own way.”
“Dumb. So now you’re gonna take it?”
“May as well.” Matt wound his thumbs together. “It would help. I have a loan I need to pay off. And keeping you fed and clothed ain’t no walk in the park, right?”
“Right. On account of all those juicy steaks I make you buy for me.” She hesitated, her forehead pinching. “So does my mom have one too? This trust fund thing?”
As the Light Fades (ARC) Page 21