She huffs. “Stupid thing’s under the seat.”
Nearly a million times I’ve thought what would have happened if Jonas had never lost that pacifier? What would have occurred if I, instead of Court, had reached down for it?
What if? What if?
The world is made of what-ifs that have changed the trajectory of entire lives.
Mine is one of those.
It’s when Court reaches down and scrapes her fingers against the coarse rug of the SUV that the world ends.
It sounds like a train roaring overhead, the thunder is so loud. It cracks and shakes the earth. Then the SUV is lifting, glass like fragments of ice floating around us. For a brief second the world is suspended. My brain can’t comprehend exactly what’s going on. But I know it’s loud and violent.
Then just as quickly it stops. I breathe. And everything fast-forwards. The world spins again, this time at warp speed.
Jonas screams but the sound is a thousand miles away. The windows are broken, shattered. Glass litters my arms and legs. I can’t see my father because the roof is smashed in. Then the door is opening, and a man stands there, drenched with water. I point to the baby and look for my sister.
Where she had sat, the window is gone and so is she.
The man asks me something about being hurt. I don’t know. I can’t think. I use his arms to help me stumble out. He says something and points to Jonas. My ears ring so bad that I can barely hear. But I understand his gestures. He will help the baby. I understand that.
Rivulets of blood run down my arms and legs. All I can think is that it must look like I’ve just survived a horror movie. Blood drips into my eyes, but I wipe it away, smearing more blood onto my arm.
People surround the vehicle. They are opening the door where my mother sits. She is unconscious but breathing. I read their lips. People agree not to move her. Mama groans, moving her head from side to side.
I frame her face with my hands. “It’s gonna be all right, Mama. Help is on the way.”
It must be true, but I don’t know how true. With all these people, someone must have called for an ambulance.
My gaze skitters across her to where my father sits, and I can’t even look. A tree is smashed down on top of him and… I turn away.
My ears continue to ring. People shout things at me. They are probably saying not to move, that everyone will be fine. I shove them aside because I have to find my sister. I’ve taken stock of everyone else.
Court is the only one missing.
She lies in a ditch, broken and bloody. Someone is beside her, but I tell them to go. That I’ll stay with her.
Court grasps me, that sunshine smile still on her face. She looks like she’s been cut in half by a magician, including the lack of a bloody mess. Her hips lay to her left and her torso is stretched right. She hasn’t been cut in half, but nothing is where it’s supposed to be.
Rain mixes with the blood that soaks her clothes. She says something, but a curtain of water steals her words. I yank my ear and then both of them open and I can hear once more.
“Take care of him,” she tells me. “Brittany, if I don’t…”
“What? No.” Court cannot leave. She cannot. I can’t lose her in a stupid storm. I can’t lose her like this, when she shouldn’t have even been here. None of them should have. I shouldn’t have been in rehab because I shouldn’t have been addicted to pills.
It isn’t fair. I’m better now, myself. I’m supposed to have a chance to make my life right. I’m not dragging anyone back down with me. I’m not going to steal pills and money from my parents anymore. I’m not going to be an embarrassment. None of this is supposed to happen, I nearly scream.
“Brittany,” she pleads. “Listen to me.” But the words catch, and she closes her eyes. I wrap my arm beneath her head and cradle it against me.
Sirens fire off in the distance. “They’re coming. Just hold on.”
She shakes her head, and her hand limply squeezes my shoulder. “Promise me that you’ll watch him. That you’ll take care of him. Promise me, Brittany.”
“I promise.” I bend my lips to her head and kiss her. “They’re coming, just hold on. Just stay with me.”
I hold her fast and tight. She can’t be moved. I’m afraid to hold Court at all, afraid that the strain will make her worse.
Maybe a minute passes before her hold goes slack, before her breathing, that had come in heavy gulps, stops.
By that time two ambulances have arrived. The baby is being looked over by a medic. He’s squalling and I can see that the car seat did its job. It saved Jonas.
A medic approaches me. Water sluices off his rain jacket in thick chunks, making small ponds in the grass on either side of him.
Before he says anything, I tell him, “She’s gone.” I know it. She hasn’t taken a breath in I don’t know how long. Her body is deadweight beneath me. Even the rain seems to know it, for it slides down her closed eyes and pools there, as if weighing down her lids to prevent them from opening.
The medic bends down. He has nice eyes, kind eyes. The type that are full of trust.
“She’s passed on,” I say again.
He places a stethoscope to Court’s chest and listens. After a moment he glances up at me, and I think that he looks too young to be doing this job. He must be close to my age, maybe younger. He’s much too green to see death like this, like my sister in my arms.
“Are you hurt?” he asks gently.
I shake my head, but he reaches out to assess me. I stiffen and he pulls back.
“What’s your name?”
And then a thousand thoughts come into my head. Court is dead. Her baby is an orphan. My mother is hurt. I can’t even think of my father or I’ll collapse.
I’ve just been set free from rehab. The judicial system will see that my sister is dead, and I’ll be the very first person eligible to take care of the baby.
Only, I won’t be very eligible, will I?
I’m a reformed drug addict who needs to focus on staying sober. I am too unstable an entity to care for the child. Any judge would look at my record and, like a strong wind, would whisk the baby from my arms. The baby would be placed in foster care. I would have to fight to prove that I’m capable of taking care of him. I don’t know how bad my mother’s injuries are. She may not be able to care for Jonas at all.
He would remain in the foster system and eventually be adopted by people who aren’t our family.
I glance down at Court. I promised her that I would care for him, that no matter what, I would make sure that Jonas was provided for.
“Name?” The medic asks again, his voice brimming with impatience.
There is only one choice in the matter, only one name that I can give him.
My lips quiver as I answer, “Court. My name is Court.”
Chapter 45
And only once, in all those years, has my identity been questioned—now. In ten years I’ve lived as Court, keeping her alive in a strange, weird way.
Yes, we’re both alive. I’m alive as Brittany, but I’m living as Court, so it’s almost as if we’re two people in one body.
No, I’m not insane. It’s simply the way that it is.
“I should have known,” Faith is saying. “There were so many signs. The fact that you don’t drink, and the way you act…different…you know, not like Court. You’re nicer. You don’t let things get to you.”
“This gets to me,” I argue. “You have to drop it, Faith. You have to leave Blanche alone.”
“But I can’t,” she whimpers. “She’ll be awake soon. Then the real work has to begin. I’ll get you when it’s over.”
My blood turns to a glacier. I open my mouth to speak, but I hear a scuffling noise above me. It’s Faith, moving away from the door, leaving me alone in the cold, frigid cellar.
I pound on the slat. “Faith! Stop this! Whatever you’re going to do. Stop it right now!”
If she hears me, she’s ignoring my cries. I
should have stopped her earlier, tied her up, created a fake letter from Paige. I’d suspected that she pushed me. Someone capable of such a deed, even if it was years earlier, still had some of that insane confidence in them.
And insane it was. I turn away from the door and take stock of the situation. A thousand bottle bottoms stare at me. I must get out of this. I think of my family, of all I’ve done to keep them.
I am Brittany. I know that I shouldn’t have lied, but I had the very best reason for doing what I did. Any mother would understand. When it comes to a child, you will do anything to protect them.
And the lie became easier to live as time went on.
Everything I’ve done, every choice I have made since the day of the accident has been to keep Jonas safe, and I’ve done it. I have made my sister proud. I know it.
Now it’s time to keep going, to take stock of this situation and get out of here. I force myself to inhale deeply. The walls are breathing, the bottles inhaling and exhaling, closing in on me.
I shut my eyes tight and grip the step railings. I’ve got to stop Faith, I remind myself. I’ve got to get out of here.
I open my eyes, and the black bottle eyes are closer. I suck in a breath and try to force the walls back, try to edge them away, but they persist, weighing down on me, crushing my chest.
A sob escapes my throat and I claw at the trapdoor again, trying to nudge it open, but it is shut tight. In the knots and swirls in the wood I see eyes and mouths that laugh at me.
Closing my eyes again, I stumble down the steps and sprawl onto the floor, lying on the cold, damp ground. It’s so cold, so very frigid.
My arms and legs shiver. My teeth chatter. I force myself up onto my bruised tailbone and grimace.
If I just inhale and exhale, I’ll be fine. I can think. I need to think.
I wrap my arms around my legs and ball up. I stare at the bottles and walls, willing them to expand, to move back and not crowd my thoughts.
My throat starts to shrivel, and I inhale, pushing it open, softening it to bloom like a rose.
The buzz of the light above me is the only sound I hear. The damp cold from the earth starts to sink through my clothes and onto my skin. I have to stand. Sitting on the floor will only make me cold faster.
On wobbly legs I rise. The bulb buzzes bright and then browns.
“No,” I whisper. “Not now. Stay with me.”
I can’t hear anything from up above. If something happened to Faith or Blanche, God forbid, I would be stuck here with no one to find me for…days. Maybe not. Maybe Tal is on his way right now.
Stupid, stupid. Tal is not on his way. He is waiting for me to come home. The roads are closed, still dangerous. No one is coming for us. No one can help us.
I touch the bulb, and it’s hot, the little warmth coming from it a blessing. If I can just think, I can get out of this, I’m sure of it.
If I can find a way to force Faith down here with me, I’d have a chance. Make her believe something’s happened, and maybe, just maybe she’ll come.
It’s a good idea. Now I just have to make it happen.
As I glance around the cellar, taking deep breaths and forcing myself to come up with a plan, the bulb blinks again.
This time it winks out.
Chapter 46
All I can hear is my breathing. The buzz of the light died with the power. We are in darkness, all of us—Faith and Blanche upstairs, and me, trapped in the belly of the cabin.
I laugh bitterly. Right now I would take being stared at by dead deer heads over this pitch darkness.
Not even a sliver of light beams down from the slat in the wood. There is no ambient glow for my eyes to adjust to, only night without possibility of a sun.
My breath comes in deep, ragged gulps. I can’t hear Faith or Blanche. I don’t know what’s happened. I don’t know if Blanche is hurt.
I feel my way to the steps and climb them, one at a time until my head bumps against the door. I sit and turn, facing the room.
Well, at least there’s is no way for me to see how small the space is. I’m free of that burden.
But the cold feels deeper now, as if it’s plunging straight to my bones like a sharp needle. I shiver and huddle into a ball.
If I stare hard enough at the walls, maybe my eyes will filter in some light that I don’t know exists. The darkness is so black that after a moment I think it’s fading back. A small corner seems to glow faintly with a halo.
Carefully I cross over and reach out, touching the spot, wondering if there is someone else here, if my sister’s spirit has come to help me.
It’s a stupid, ridiculous idea, but there are times, when I’m under deep stress, that I feel her nearby, that I can sense Court watching me, wrapping her arms around my shoulders and giving me an ethereal hug.
I need one right now, that’s for sure.
Something scrapes over the floor upstairs, and I race back to the door, feeling my way like a blind woman.
I pound the bottom of my fist against the wood. “Blanche! Wake up! Blanche! Faith! Let me out!”
But no answer comes. I sink back onto the step and press my head to the wooden rail. A sob bubbles in my throat, and I allow it to come. It feels good to let the crying wash down me. I’m so tired, so very tired. My body aches from hunching on the stairs, and my hands burn from pounding on the door.
The air is so much more frigid down here than it is upstairs. It must be well below freezing. I shiver, my teeth clattering.
If only I can rest for a moment, I know I’ll have more energy to think, to come up with a way out.
All I need is to shut my eyes. I’ll only do it for a moment, just a second. My lids flutter closed, and it feels so good. It’s easy to block out what’s happening this way. I can forget that I’m trapped in a cellar, that Faith is going to do something awful to Blanche, that an ice storm has trapped us.
I see Court standing in the corner of a dark room. I think it’s where I am, but I don’t know. Her hair is picked up by an invisible wind, and it gleams even in the darkness.
Crying, I run and pull her into my arms. I cry openly, and the release feels so good. It’s impossible to know how long we stay like that, how long we hold on to one another, but it feels like forever as well as a whisper of a second. It seems to last an eternity and also a blip in time.
She murmurs into my ear, “You work so hard.”
“I know. It’s all for you—for us, for Jonas.”
My sister pulls back and runs her hands down my arms. “You’ve come all this way.”
I knuckle tears from my cheeks. “I’m so tired.”
Her brown eyes are bright, shining hot. “You’re not done yet.”
“But I want to be. It’s so cold in that room.” I pause. “Is this a dream?”
She doesn’t answer, which makes me think it’s something between a dream and not.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I ask. “That it was Faith who pushed me? You should have said something.”
She touches my cheek, and heat from her hand ripples to my ear. “Would it have mattered?”
“Yes, it would have.”
“You would have hated her.”
“I hate her now.”
She shakes her head. “You need to have love in your heart.”
“But I’ve done so many bad—”
“Shh,” she says, more like a mother than my sister. “Every choice you’ve made has been because of your family, to keep them together. You’ve done it all because of the promise that you made.”
“I’m so tired,” I repeat. And I am. I feel her heat and see how she radiates. I want to go with her, be with her.
She smiles sadly. “You’re not finished yet. You have to get back there, go back. There’s something that you have to remember.”
I rack my brain. What could it be that she needs me to recall? “What is it?”
“Think,” she commands, her brown eyes full of determination. “There is something
about the cellar, something about Faith that will help you.”
It’s the worst hint in the world. It literally creates more questions than it answers. “Tell me.”
“You’ll know it.” She glances behind her as if someone is calling. Maybe my father is. I want to see him, too. “I have to go now. But just think and you’ll know what I’m talking about.”
I reach for her but she’s running in the other direction, away from me, and then she slips into the darkness and fades from sight.
I fall too, finding myself pitching forward. My breath blows out and my arms hurt. My eyes flare wide, and I’m on the cold floor. My cheek is flat against the dirt.
I sit up and brush myself off, though I can’t see the grime that I know is there.
I must’ve fallen asleep on the steps. There’s no telling how long I’ve been out. Had it been a day? Only a few minutes? Maybe an hour? My body is stiff and sore. I stretch and that’s when I hear a scream.
Blanche.
Arms out, I carefully feel my way back up the ladder and press my ear to the slit. She doesn’t cry out again.
My imagination flies to the worst—Faith hovering over Blanche with a knife, or Faith with Blanche tied up, holding a hot poker near her face.
I have to stop this. Thinking this way won’t help anything. Besides, Faith would never be so cruel, would she?
Well, let’s see—she locked me in a freezing cellar and years ago pushed me off a cliff because she thought that I was being mean to my sister.
So yes, Faith might actually put Blanche literally to the fire in order to get the truth from her.
This is so fucked up.
I rub my head and feel a knot forming where I hit the floor. It’s tender and I wince. That’s right, I fell asleep and my sister told me to remember something about this room, about Faith.
What the hell does that mean?
Think, Brittany. I take a deep breath. The scent of moist earth fills my nose. It reminds me of mushrooms and the heavy smell after a rain.
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