Island Haven

by Amy Knupp

  “Pizza delivery.” Charlie grinned and continued tucking the blanket around Gram’s thin body.

  Mercedes walked to the dresser and pulled out a nightgown. “Gram’s due for clean pajamas.”

  Charlie took the gown and set it aside. “Thanks.”

  Mercedes stood there waiting to help with the change, but Charlie flopped into the chair.

  “It’s easiest to change her now before she gets too comfortable,” Mercedes said, picking up the garment.

  “We’ll get her taken care of before she goes to sleep. Don’t worry.”

  Mercedes frowned, about to explain why it was much easier to do it now, when Gram spoke up.

  “I’m just fine, Sadie. If I fall asleep in this for one more night, it’s not the end of the world. Relax, sweetie.”

  Mercedes put the nightgown on top of the dresser and left the room, curbing her frustration. She hated that Charlie had had to cover dinner. It was one thing if it was planned, but Mercedes had run out for her last-minute meeting without having the chance to touch base and make plans with her sister, who’d been at the beach sketching. She didn’t want Gram to have to fret about anything. Adding one to their small family had thrown their rhythm off.

  Though Mercedes usually watched Gram’s favorite sitcom rerun with her, she headed out to the back porch instead. It seemed Charlie and Gram were just fine. She felt like the intruder and she didn’t care for that at all.

  She missed the way it used to be. Just her and Gram.

  It wasn’t five minutes later that Charlie joined her.

  “I thought you were going to watch Gram’s show with her,” Mercedes said.

  “I was until you got your panties in a wad. What’s wrong with you?”

  “Nothing’s wrong.”

  Charlie took the wicker chair next to Mercedes, propped her feet on the ottoman and crossed her arms. “I’m not incompetent, you know.”

  “I never said you were.”

  “Maybe not in words, but you continually insinuate it by correcting everything I do. I’m just trying to help. To be part of the family.”

  Mercedes leaned her head on the back of the chair, thinking of all the times since Gram’s stroke when she really could have used help. It’d taken time and a lot of effort to rearrange her life to be able to work from home. During that period she would have loved to have had someone to share duties with. She’d even asked Charlie to come down at one point, but her sister had brushed off the suggestion and claimed she had to work. “Guess I’m just not used to having help.”

  “Looks like it’s time to get used to it.”

  “For how long?” Mercedes asked. “You’re staying until, what, fall? Earlier? When boredom strikes? And then Gram and I have to readjust when you get tired of bunking with us?”

  Tense seconds ticked by. Mercedes ran her fingers up and down her opposite hand and avoided looking at her sister in the dimness of dusk.

  “I came here,” Charlie started in a quiet, controlled voice, “to try to get closer to you and Gram. To get to know you both better. To be more of a family. I’ve had some good moments with Gram.”

  “Better late than never,” Mercedes snapped, the resentment that had been bubbling for years finally coming out. The aloneness, the me-against-the-world feelings that had swarmed her after their mother’s funeral returned in full force, as if no time had passed.

  “With you, there’s no chance,” Charlie went on. “It’s like you have this inner circle with Gram and you won’t let anyone mess with that. Won’t let anyone in. Not even your sister.”

  Renewed grief nearly choked Mercedes. She forced words out past the ball in her throat. “Maybe if you were here when I needed you, that wouldn’t have happened.”

  “That’s not fair.”

  “That’s completely fair! Gram’s all I have. All I’ve ever had since Mom died and you ran back to New York the second the funeral was over. I’d do anything for her.”

  “You do everything for her, Mercedes. So much…to a compulsive extent.” Charlie bolted up and went to the other side of the porch. She gazed through the screen at nothing, one hand on her hip. “It was hard enough to lose Dad. Crushing to lose Mom after that.” She paused and raised her chin, eyes closed, as if fighting off the pain. “Maybe it was wrong of me to go back to New York instead of stay with you, but…we all grieve in our own way.”

  “Yours was always running away,” Mercedes said to Charlie’s back.

  “But I’m here now.”

  “So I’m just supposed to drop everything and…take you while I can get you?”

  “I’ve never given you any reason not to trust me,” Charlie said quietly.

  “You’ve never given me any reason to trust you, either.”

  Mercedes would love nothing more than to have a sister she could rely on, who she knew would always be there to help with Gram and, yes, to be a family.

  And yet, Charlie had shown too many times that her heart wasn’t in the whole family thing. It was easier in the long run for Mercedes to continue as she had been—taking full responsibility for Gram and expecting nothing from her sister. “What is it you want from me, Charlie?”

  “Let me in.” Her sister spun around and sat on the ottoman facing Mercedes. “And if you can’t let me in, let someone in. You’re using Gram as an excuse, but I don’t buy it.”

  “Oh, you don’t?” Mercedes’s voice climbed in volume. “You don’t think I could just be that dedicated to caring for the one person who was there for me? You can’t imagine someone who truly puts their family first?”

  “Of course I can. I just think there’s more to it than that. I think you’re scared. And I think that’s sad.”

  “Good thing I don’t care what you think.”

  Her sister studied her. “You know, until recently, I never really thought about how losing both our parents affected us so deeply. I may have run away physically, but you’ve built up mile-high emotional walls.”

  Blood pounded in Mercedes’s head and she clenched her fists so hard her nails dug into her palms. “Gram’s waiting for you.”

  When Charlie didn’t move, Mercedes shot up from her chair. “I’m out of here. Don’t wait up.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  MERCEDES HADN’T PLANNED to end up at Scott’s when she stormed out. She hadn’t set out to go anywhere specific, just away for a few hours. And yet she found herself in the parking lot of his apartment building.

  Scott’s. Not Gemma’s. She’d be happy to see Gemma, but the teenager wasn’t what had drawn Mercedes here. As much as she would have liked to lean on Gemma as an excuse, there was no sense in lying to herself.

  She wanted to see Scott tonight.

  Would’ve been nice if she’d thought to change into something besides the business clothes she’d worn to meet her client. The thigh-length skirt and button-down blouse looked as if she’d been wearing them for two days and weren’t exactly comfortable, but…who knew, maybe she wouldn’t be wearing them for long. That would suit her fine. Maybe what she needed was a heavy dose of no strings attached. Something to cure the emptiness inside of her.

  Mercedes got out and headed for 6A, hurrying across the unlit lot uneasily and thinking again how this wasn’t the ideal place for a teenage girl. But then, Gemma wasn’t going to be here for long, no matter what solution she found.

  She knocked quietly, realizing she didn’t even know if Scott worked tonight.

  Footsteps sounded on the other side—Scott’s, she’d bet, based on the heaviness of them. There was a pause, and she sensed he was looking out at her through the peephole. The door opened and he appeared perplexed.

  “Is your grandmother okay?” he asked right away.

  “She’s doing well. Shouldn’t she be?”

  “She seemed good when we left last night. You just look upset.”

  “I’m fine. Hello, by the way.”

  “Hi.” He stepped back and let her in. “Gemma crashed over an hour ago. S
aid she’s got her days and nights mixed up because all she does is lay around.”

  “Scott.” Mercedes studied his now-familiar face—the blue eyes that were less wary around her but never fully unguarded, the strong line of his jaw darkened with stubble. She longed to reach out and run her fingers over it, the memory of his rough chin almost tangible. He closed the door, muffling the usual noise of his neighbors.

  She glanced around to verify that they were alone. A video game was suspended on the screen at the other end of the living room and one of the floor-level gaming chairs was surrounded by evidence that he’d been camped out there for some time—a box of crackers, a plastic convenience-store cup with a lid and straw, a crumpled paper sack from a burger joint. The TV and a light in the kitchen offered the only illumination. “I’m here to see you, not Gemma.”

  “Oh.” He stuck a hand into the pocket of his cargo shorts and looked at his feet.

  “I can…go if you’re busy.”

  He snapped out of whatever awkwardness had overcome him. Shook his head and gestured toward the kitchen. “No. Come on in. Want something to drink?”

  “No, thanks.” She didn’t know how to say what she wanted. Didn’t exactly know what she wanted, really. Comfort she couldn’t ask for. Distraction. Reprieve. Instead of going to the kitchen, she walked to the other gaming chair and fell into it. “Didn’t mean to interrupt your game. Which level are you on?”

  He stood at the other end of the room for several seconds staring at her, then joined her. “What’s going on? Why are you here?”

  She shrugged. “Wanted to get out of the house. Charlie’s staying with Gram. This is right before the ambush area, isn’t it?” she asked, pointing at the screen.

  He stared at her another moment then turned to the TV. “Yeah.” He picked up the controller. “Want to play?”

  “I’m better at watching.”

  He pushed a button to restart the action and got through the virtual ambush with no trouble.

  Some time later, he spoke again. “You must have played before.”

  “Gemma was playing when I was here the other day.”

  “She’s supposed to be lying down. Low stress.”

  “She stretched out on the floor here. I tried to tell her a combat game wasn’t good for her blood pressure, but she gave me a look like I’m being overprotective.”

  “I know that look.”

  He turned the game off abruptly.

  What am I doing here? She tried to come up with a way to bow out.

  Scott cleared his throat. “Wasn’t sure you were still talking to me after I dropped off that book for your grandmother the other night.”

  “I talked to you last night.”

  “You didn’t have much choice,” he said.

  Mercedes ran her finger around the lid of the sweating cup. “Should I not be talking to you?”

  “I was an asshole.”

  She pretended to consider that. “A little bit.”

  “I shouldn’t have treated you like that.”

  “No.”

  “You sure you don’t need a drink?”

  When Mercedes met his gaze, he nodded toward her finger, still tracing circles on his cup. She retracted her arm. “I’m fine.”

  Muffled yelling came from another apartment followed by the sound of a door slamming. She waited for him to say more.

  “Was that your way of apologizing?” she finally asked.

  He let out his breath. “I think I’ve apologized to you more than I have to anyone in the past ten years. Don’t want to wear out the word sorry. But I am.”

  She’d been over the whole thing since last night, the drama of Gram’s accident making her realize there were more pressing issues than him being less than nice to her. She shrugged. “I know you were worried about Gemma.”

  Scott closed his eyes for a moment, knowing it was pointless to deny that. Hating it still that anyone had started to worm their way into his life. The truth was he’d been damn glad to see Mercedes at the door tonight. A gut reaction. The wrong one.

  And yet, he bridged the space between them by putting his hand on her shoulder. She stared into space, seeming not to notice the touch. She radiated sadness, from the droop of her shoulders to the lack of the usual spark in her eyes. He couldn’t force himself to turn her away. Though she hadn’t admitted to anything when he’d said she looked upset, there was no question something was bothering her. He might be an insensitive male, but he wasn’t stupid.

  He waited for her to explain herself. She still hadn’t even said why she’d come over. Apparently she wasn’t going to volunteer anything.

  “Mercedes.”

  He wasn’t sure why he spoke her name, but it turned out to be the coup de grâce. When she met his gaze, her eyes were glassy with moisture.

  Damn.

  He stood and held his hands out to her, unable to deny the unfamiliar urge to comfort her. “Come here.”

  That she took his hands and came so willingly only proved further how upset she was.

  “What?” she asked once they stood face-to-face. It killed him that she looked at him as if maybe he could make everything okay. He was the last person capable of that, but he was powerless to keep from trying.

  “Sit on the couch. Tell me what’s bothering you.”

  She seemed to gauge his sincerity and apparently he passed the test. Still holding one of his hands, she went to the couch and sat down. Once he was seated, she moved up flush against his side. Without thought, he put his arm around her, drawing her into his chest. She reached across him and held on to him, burying her face. Her lilac scent reached him and he closed his eyes. He had no idea how long they sat like that. Didn’t care. Didn’t pay heed to any lingering doubts or warnings. He just tried to be what she needed.

  “My turn to apologize,” she finally said, loosening her hold on him. “I didn’t mean to squeeze the life out of you.”

  “I’ll let it go if you tell me what’s wrong,” he whispered into her hair, twisting his fingers through the long strands. He would never tire of touching her hair.

  “It seems dumb to say it out loud. Just a fight with my sister.”

  She shifted until her head rested in his lap, her body stretched out toward the opposite end of the couch. She faced away from him, her hand resting on his bare leg at the hem of his shorts. Her fingers moved lightly back and forth over his skin. Distracted him. He wove his fingers through hers to keep his mind from veering in the wrong direction.

  “Why did you fight with your sister?”

  Mercedes rolled to her back so he could see her face. “I don’t even know. I was late getting home and was worried about Gram. Charlie says I don’t trust her. That I won’t let her get close to me.”

  He tried to follow that. “Do you trust her?”

  She was quiet for a long while, her brow furrowing as she considered. “Mostly,” she finally said.

  “How do you mostly trust somebody? Isn’t it all or nothing?”

  “Whose side are you on?”

  “Neutral sounding board. Needed clarification.”

  She frowned. “I trust her intentions with Gram. Charlie would never do anything to hurt her.”

  “Okay. But?” This was fast becoming one of those discussions he wasn’t wired to fully understand, but he strived to do his best.

  “I guess I don’t trust her to stay. She didn’t before.”

  “Before when?”

  “Ever, really. She left home as soon as she finished high school. Didn’t even stay the summer before she started art school in New York. I was fourteen when she took off.”

  He didn’t speak. Figured it was better for her to just keep talking until she got through everything.

  “Do you want me to shut up or do you want my life story?” she asked, and he couldn’t help being a little amused.

  “Is there a middle ground?” he asked as he caressed her cheek with the back of his finger.

  “All or nothi
ng.” She mimicked his phrase completely seriously and he recognized there was a right answer in this situation.

  “Tell me it all.”

  Again, she measured him with her eyes before continuing. “My parents were in a motorcycle wreck when I was ten.” Her voice went hoarse with emotion. “My dad died at the scene.”

  He took her hand as she closed her eyes and swallowed hard.

  “My mom was paralyzed from the waist down.”

  He’d worked wrecks like that. They were some of the worst. But he’d never known any of the victims or their families. Though motorcycle collisions got to him anyway, he’d never been exposed to this side of them. “That’s awful, Mercedes.” He tightened his grip on her hand.

  She nodded as she squeezed her eyes shut and tears spilled over, down the sides of her face. He used his other hand to brush them away. She let out a noisy breath and said, “Sorry.”

  “No reason to be. So who took care of you and your sister after the accident?”

  “We did. Gram came to stay with us for a few weeks. We had nurses and therapists to help once Mom came home.”

  “You were only ten years old.”

  “My mom always said I was old for my age.” Mercedes smiled sadly. “I think I was that way even before the accident.”

  “She must have needed a lot of help.”

  “I was glad to do whatever I could for her. I actually liked doing things for my family.”

  “And Charlie?”

  “I tried to take care of stuff so she didn’t have to.”

  “Seems like she should’ve been doing that for you,” Scott said, beginning to understand Mercedes on a different level.

  Mercedes shook her head. “Role reversal, I guess. Maybe we were born in the wrong order. I was the one who tried to protect Charlie from…I don’t know what. Everything. I liked being Mom’s go-to girl.”

  He couldn’t imagine losing a parent so young. When he was ten, he’d had it pretty easy. When his own family life had combusted, he’d been eighteen years old. Though no one had died, technically, he supposed it had been similar in that his family was lost to him suddenly. He’d been years older and his parents had still been living. And yet, Mercedes seemed to have handled her tragedy so much better.