Waking Savannah

by Terri-Lynne Defino

  His fingers feathered down her cheek, across her chin to the other. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  “Neither of us knows that for sure. I just wanted to thank you, no matter how this turns out, for being the exact person I needed at just the right time.”

  “It is no less than what you are to me.” He held her closer. “Call it fate. Call it chance. Whatever aligned to bring you into my life, corazón, will not be thwarted by Anita Durst.”

  Savannah bit her bottom lip. “I don’t believe in fate or chance.”

  “No? Magic, then.”

  “Not magic either.” This was the moment. It would never be more perfect. She steeled her resolve. “I believe that we get back what we put out, even if it takes a long time.” Pain, quick and warning, sliced through her head. “Do good, good comes back to you.” Another stab. “But so does the bad.”

  Ade’s fingers caressed her jaw, her throat. “What is it, corazón?”

  Pain throbbed. Tears formed. Savannah held his gaze and tried to find her courage there. She had to do it, had to tell him even if it meant watching the love in his eyes turn to horror.

  “You two going to stare into one another’s eyes all night or can we eat?” Dan waved his spatula in the air. Ade turned his head and in that moment, Savannah’s resolve washed out of her body, through the soles of her feet and into the ground. Deep into the ground. Reason took its place. This wasn’t the perfect time. It was exactly the wrong time, with all their friends as witness. She had to tell him. She would tell him. After everyone else had gone.

  “We’re coming,” Savannah called, and grabbed Ade’s hand. “There’d better be some burgers left.”

  “Are you all right?” Ade asked, tugging back a little on her hand. “You looked troubled a moment ago.”

  “I’m fine,” she answered. “I thought my headache was coming back.” She stood on tiptoes to kiss his lips. “Let’s get some food before there’s nothing left but hot dogs.”

  * * * *

  It’s colder now. Funny, how I don’t normally get things like hot and cold, wet or dry. I’m not sure what this place is. It’s not the burned out house. It’s not the woods. It’s someplace…else.

  She’s still screaming, but it’s louder now. I’m getting close. So close. Too close. I wish I had a hand to hold. I wish…no wishing. It’s just me, myself and I. Like it was then. Now. Whatever it is. I’m getting out this time. Not alive, of course, but...

  * * * *

  Edgardo and Raul said their good-nights before Mike and Efan got the bonfire going in the fire pit. Gathered around it, tucked into one another like puppies in a pile, the lot of them chatted, roasted marshmallows and ate s’mores until even Dan’s stomach was sick. Aside from Caleb and Tabitha, they were adults, one and all. Even Benny had—wonder of wonders—left Irene with her mother instead of bringing her along. Savannah couldn’t remember a time she’d been with these friends without their plethora of children. It felt strange, but nice. Very nice.

  “We should probably head home.” Johanna groaned to her feet. “My boobs are like rocks. Time to nurse Finn.”

  “Ugh, mine too,” Benny said. “I keep waiting for Irene to get tired of nursing but, no, she has no intention of detaching.”

  “I think that was a little too much information for some of our company.” Emma gestured to Caleb.

  Tabitha’s barely concealed grin erupted. “Men love tits until an infant is involved.” She snorted, bouncing her own, ample pair in cupped hands. “Then it becomes embarrassing.”

  Quick glances passed among the adults. Caleb still had not looked up.

  “Well, mine aren’t faring any better.” Julietta got to her feet, hauled her husband to his. “This has been great, but we should get home, too.”

  Emma and Mike, with no infant home waiting to be nursed, got up as well. Only Caleb and Tabitha remained beside the fire, she looking quizzically at his bowed head. The adults ambled to the cars parked closer to the barn.

  “There’s a story there,” Emma said. “Not a good one.”

  “I imagine not.” Efan rubbed his chin. “She was on her own a long time.”

  “All her life, as far as we know,” Johanna said. “Nina and Gunner have their hands full, that’s for sure. But Caleb seems to be good for her. He likes her. And she seems to trust him.”

  “He might be getting more friendship than he anticipated. Ouch!” Dan jumped away from his wife. “What’d you pinch me for? I only said what everyone’s thinking. Tell her, Charlie. Mike.”

  “I notice you’re asking the men.” Benny pinched him again.

  “I was thinking it.” Johanna raised her hand. “But Caleb’s a smart kid. He won’t give anything he’s not willing to. He’s a better influence on her than she’s a bad one on him.”

  “You can still say that,” Charlie asked, “even after the motorcycle?”

  Johanna blew out a deep breath. “I have to say, that one took me by surprise. But I stand behind what I said. Caleb’s a smart kid. I trust his judgment on the bike and on Tabitha. If they share more than friendship, it could be worse.”

  “They’re cousins.” Emma grimaced. “That’s gross, Jo.”

  “They’re cousins like Savannah is our sister. Come on, Em. Don’t be such a prude. It’s not like you and Mike haven’t been going at it since you were, what? Fourteen?”

  “Fifteen,” Mike drawled.

  “Michael!”

  He scooped his wife up into his arms and started for their car. “I can still make her blush,” he called over his shoulder. “Let’s see if I can still make her eyes roll.”

  He tossed her into the passenger seat and dove in on top of her. Emma squealed and laughed and all went suddenly silent.

  “That’s it for me.” Dan threw his hands up. “When did this group get so kinky?”

  Everyone got into cars and pulled away amid honks, waves and shouted good-nights. Even Emma and Mike drove off, disheveled and grinning. Still beside the dying fire, Caleb and Tabitha spoke softly. Savannah kept her distance. Ade’s hand slipped into hers.

  “A good night,” he said. “And a great day.”

  “It was pretty great.” She twirled into his arms, her back resting against his chest and her eyes on the sky. “So beautiful. All those stars.”

  “You should see the stars in the mountains of Ecuador. You have never seen so many.”

  “Maybe I will one day.”

  He nuzzled the spot between shoulder and neck. “You will.” Kisses feathered her skin. “Perhaps for Navidad.” Down her shoulder. His hands pushed into the waistband of her shorts, pressed her to him. Savannah’s reached back, pushing her fingers through his hair. Ade bit her. Tenderly. “Te adoro, corazón. Te quiero hasta la luna y más allá.”

  “Excuse, please.” Tabitha’s deep voice startled them apart. “I am very sorry.”

  Savannah straightened her clothes. “It’s okay. Ade and I were just—what did you need?”

  “Your bathroom?” Tabitha shrugged. “It is a bouncy ride on the back of Caleb’s motorbike.”

  “Oh, of course. Sure. Ade, would you put the fire out? Caleb’ll help.”

  Leading Tabitha into the house gave Savannah the opportunity to cool down, gather her composure. The young woman hadn’t seemed flustered, interrupting what she had. What little Savannah knew of her past suggested she’d been witness to many of life’s intimate offerings, both good and bad.

  “Here you go.” Savannah flicked on the light for her, and headed back to the kitchen. Someone had already cleaned up, washed dishes, stored the leftover food. Standing center in her kitchen, she could find nothing left for her to do. Thank goodness. She didn’t have the energy for anything more than taking a shower and climbing into bed. Unless Ade was interested in continuing what had been interrupted.

  “Thank you.” Tabitha came into kitchen, still drying her hands on the front of her jeans, her eyes everywhere at once. �
�And for the barbeque, too.”

  “My pleasure, sugar. You’re welcome here any time.”

  The young woman’s nose wrinkled, as if smelling something unpleasant. She made a shooing motion with her hands, before her, behind and to each side. “Mamioro,” she muttered. “You should do something about that.”

  “Do something about what?”

  Tabitha grimaced again. “There is a spirit here. One that brings illness. You should call in a priest.”

  Savannah’s scalp prickled. “I—uh—will do that. Thank you, Tabitha.”

  Tabitha’s grimace shifted to disdain. “Suit yourself,” she said. “If you end up with brain cancer, don’t say you weren’t warned. Good-night, Savannah. And thank you again.”

  Politely rude. Young and world-weary. Wise and reckless. Savannah couldn’t quite put her finger on what Tabitha was. Different, that was certain. Smart. Superstitious, apparently. Yet, brain cancer? Of all the ailments she could have blurted…

  Fingers pressed to temples, Savannah soothed the phantom headache, for once, not truly blooming. Outside, Ade called good-night to Caleb and Tabitha. The motorcycle revved and rumbled away. Savannah watched without truly seeing from the doorway, her thoughts still tumbling Tabitha and Ade, the day and the night, weariness and desire round and around. Then Ade was pulling her into his arms, into a kiss, and backing her into the kitchen.

  “Let us go to bed,” he said against her throat. Savannah’s head cleared of all but him. He left a trail of kisses from her chin to the top button of her shirt. She stopped him there.

  “I’m disgusting.” She laughed softly. “I’ve been sweating like a pig all day.”

  “Pigs do not sweat, corazón.” He started again at her chin. “And I was always told women do not sweat, they glisten.”

  Savannah let him get her blouse open but stopped him at the button of her cut-offs. “Then I glistened like a dewdrop all day. I need a shower.” She held out her hand. “Join me?”

  Ade took it, grinning that grin, the one that first turned her knees to Jell-O. Half smile. Half smirk. All charisma meant to light her up from the inside. Maybe it had been calculated once. Maybe, but maybe not. For now, it was all hers.

  Chapter 21

  sudden unremembered wings

  My mom used to bake these cupcakes. Pink, but not strawberry. I’m not sure what flavor they were, really. And the pink didn’t come from food coloring. Man-o-man, did I love those cupcakes, especially when she put red sprinkles on them. The sugar kind, not jimmies. It made them look like jewels. All the kids wanted to come to my birthday parties because of mom’s cupcakes. She never shared her secret with anyone, no matter how much they begged, but she said she’d tell me in time for my first child’s first birthday.

  I think this place is memory, if that makes any sense. I keep tasting mom’s cupcakes, hearing my pesty brother taunting me with the dead frog he chased me with that one time, smelling cut grass. A moment ago, it was the Christmas I was ten, when I got my first new bicycle and not a hand-me-down from Cousin Kim. The moment before that, I was sitting in my fifth-grade classroom that smelled of chalk, and the pencil sharpener that hung on the wall next to my desk. I’m not seeing all this stuff but…experiencing them somehow. I’m not sure if it’s something preparing me for what’s coming, or me stalling.

  I think I’m stalling.

  And still she screams. I scream. There is only one way to make her stop. I’m so scared. Mommy, I’m sorry. Daddy. What you must have gone through. At least I died and, until recently, it was over for me. But you lived this, imagining what happened to me, every day of your lives, didn’t you? Is that what this is? Your hell on earth? Maybe. I don’t know. I’m sorry. So sorry.

  Breathe, Tilly. Just bre—well, you know what I mean. Let go of the cupcakes and Christmas and the pencil sharpener. Let go of all the pranks you’ve played in Bitterly. Let go of everything but that moment. That terrible, terrible moment. You can do this.

  * * * *

  No moonlight. No dawn. Just those eternal moments when neither sun nor moon held court in the sky. The light-between-light cast lavender shadows in the corners of the room, across Savannah’s sleeping face. So peaceful. So beautiful. So loved. Ade’s heart did that swelling-thing he still wasn’t used to, even though it happened the first time he saw her coming down the back porch steps. Alien and wonderful. Uncomfortable and fulfilling. Frightening and freeing. How could love be of such disparate parts, and yet make so complete a whole?

  Ade tickled fingers along the contours of her body, on top of the sheets. She stirred but didn’t wake. Letting go the breath he’d been holding, he rested his palm on her hip. Already he’d memorized every curve of her body. Despite the rigors of their lovemaking, Ade roused all over again. His libido had never failed him, even if biology had.

  Until Savannah, infertility was a perk to his lifestyle. And until Anita, he never realized how that old wound had not scarred over so much as scabbed. It hadn’t taken much to prick it open, to make him hope and fear and hope again.

  The churning in his chest changed course, became a sinking feeling in his gut. What would he do if the baby Anita carried was, impossibly, his? Could he sacrifice what he had with Savannah for the child? Could he sacrifice the child to the Dursts, who would use and misuse him to their own gain?

  The answer to both questions was a resounding no! But the second echoed longer within the confines of his brain. His child. His son. Ade wanted it to be true. Because Savannah had opened his heart to love. There had to be a way, should the child turn out to be his. There had to be. How hard would it be to play along with Anita’s wishes, then snatch the boy and whisk both him and Savannah off to the mountains of Ecuador where no one would ever find any of them?

  Ade almost laughed at his own, desperate idiocy. It came out more like a stifled sob. Savannah stirred again. Her eyes opened to slits, a smile curled her lips, but she fell back into slumber while he again held his breath. Tears, as alien as love, stung behind Ade’s eyes. He pressed them away, pretended they had never welled.

  “Te quiero hasta la luna y más allá,” he whispered. “La luna ye más allá, corazón.”

  He would find a way to have it all. Somehow. Adelmo Gallegos always did.

  * * * *

  Golly. There it is. The moment. Moments. And I feel…detached. Like that isn’t me. I know it is, but I don’t really feel anything. Disgust, sure, but not fear. Not pain. Maybe that’s why we’re both still here. She has to relive this so that I don’t have to. And the girl at the rock drowns over and over, glad to be finished with living. However many versions of dead-me there are, this one is the worst. No wonder she’s holding me here.

  What a mess. All that blood. And there he is, doing what he did. Gross. The only sex I ever got besides those back-seat necking sessions at the drive-in over in East Perry. Ain’t that a peach? I let Tommy Fitzgerald get to second base once. And Greg Smalls. And…what was his name? Oh, right. Victor Larson, who my parents thought I was smitten with. I was, obviously. Until this…this…I can’t call him a man. Monster. That’s what he is. Look at him going to town on a girl already half-dead.

  I’m stalling. Stalling, stalling, stalling. I’m not alone after all. She and I are in this together, and that’s the only way out for both of us. And the Drowned Girl. All for one and one for all.

  He doesn’t see me. He’s not even here. Just his shadow. Her memory. Keeps her. Trapped. She won’t let go. It’s all that she is. This. Moment. Is not death. Pain. Fear. Anguish. Humiliation. Grief. Eternally. Death came later. Let this go.

  Let it go.

  Let it go.

  Let it…

  * * * *

  “…go!”

  Savannah startled awake, the dream already fading. Two girls. Twins? Fleeing. Something. In the woods. Heading for the river. The metallic scent of blood, a swift kick of pain. Twins. Flight. Fear. Blood. Unwanted memory reared up in her half-slum
bering brain. The dream was nothing Savannah wished to hold on to, so she let it go.

  Lips brushed hers. Savannah blinked all the way awake. Ade, propped on his elbow, gazed down on her. Dawn touched his face, shadowed the contours she knew so well. Little more than two months knowing him, loving him, she could not imagine life without him. How this love happened was as complete a mystery as any, but it was real. It was hers.

  Almost.

  Savannah’s insides clenched. Fading dream and too-clear memory chased about in her head, leading her to Ade, his honesty, her secret still between them. He had given her all he was, good and bad. He trusted her with the truth. Until she did the same for him, none of this was real. It couldn’t last. She had to tell him before September 19th took him to Boston, away from her, possibly for good. There was never going to be a perfect time, but there would be none more so than this one, in the dawn light, Ade’s gentle gaze upon her, her body still caught in the rhythm that carried them both through the night. Touching his face, fingers trembling, she quelled the urge to lift her lips to his. “I need to tell you something.” Her voice sounded harsh against the silence of morning.

  Ade only smiled. “Anything, corazón.”

  Pain stabbed between her eyes, spread to her temples.

  “It’s about what happened in Georgia.”

  “I already know—”

  “—what the media reported.” Vision blurred. Pain bloomed from head to neck. Savannah gasped. “No one knows the whole truth. No one but me. I want you to know.” Her body ached now, pulsing pain in waves through every nerve, muscle, bone.

  It’s all in your head. A psychosomatic symptom caused by this truth you’ve been holding all these years. Let it go. Let it go!

  Ade gathered her into his arms, caressing circles on her back. Between her shoulders. Where Carmen said she had wings.