Losing Francesca

by J. A. Huss

  "Fiona!" Sean yells through the door.

  "Francesca," a more patient Mrs. Marco tries. "Come out, Francesca. Let's talk."

  I'm gasping for breath and my heart is pounding, pounding like it's going to escape my chest with the slightest movement, so I stand very still and close my eyes. It will end. It will all end soon. Just hang in there, just keep repeating the story. It will be over soon, just wait until August fifteenth when Fiona turns eighteen and they can't keep you anymore.

  But I've been telling myself this for two months now, and no matter what, even if there's a good day or two I can't stop wondering if it really will end.

  "Francesca," Mrs. Marco tries again. "Please, dear, just open the door and let me in. You don't have to come out, OK? I'll come in."

  I put on a giant smile, look at myself in the mirror, and call out in my most sweet sing-songy voice, "Io non capisco l'inglese."

  "Goddammit!"

  That was definitely Frank.

  He pounds on the door. "Come out now, Fiona!"

  I guess they've given up on the Francesca pretense. "Io non capisco l'inglese," I sing sweetly.

  It makes me laugh for a few seconds and then someone is kicking the door. I watch in horror as the wood starts to splinter and people on the other side start screaming, and then I hear Sean yelling at Frank and Frank yelling at Sean and then there is scuffling, banging up against the door, like they are fighting.

  There's another crash against the door and this time it comes flying open. Sean and Frank fall to the floor, still grappling with each other.

  I stand there.

  Mrs. Marco stands there.

  Sean and Frank stop fighting.

  And I leap over them in one swift movement and then I'm out on the terrace, scrambling out of the grasp of Mrs. Marco—who's definitely got a little ninja in her, that's how quick she grabs me as I flash past—but I wriggle free, make the tree, jump on the limb I used to spy on Brody, swing my way down to the lowest bough, and fling myself off.

  I roll in the dirt, get up, and break for the woods, not even looking back as all three of them scream at me from the terrace.

  The thick undergrowth slaps against my face as I run—not even aware of which way I'm going. I find the bridle path but I figure that's the first place they'll come looking and break off on a footpath, like the one that leads to the lake. I run, my breath coming in short gasps, but I still run.

  I can hear them now, calling for me—calling for Francesca, which isn't my name—calling for Fiona. But they never call for me by my real name.

  I hear the dirt bike and start to panic. They are going to catch me and they'll take me back to the FBI and then they'll drug me again and put me in those interrogation rooms, and I won't get a phone call. That is such a freaking lie! They do not give you a phone call when they think you're a terrorist. And if I was a terrorist, then OK, I can see that. If you're a terrorist you don't deserve a phone call.

  But I'm not a terrorist. I'm not a criminal. I'm just a girl! The only thing I ever did was look like some computer model of a kidnapped child!

  The dirt bike is behind me and my pace is considerably slower now, so I have no hope. I turn to fight—but it's Brody. He slides the bike sideways, almost taking me out in the process, and I slip in the mud and go down.

  He holds out his hand and I just stare at him.

  "You wanna run, Fee? I'll get you out of here, get on."

  I do get on. I slide right up behind him and I barely have a chance to slip my hands around his stomach before he takes off and we are getting away.

  I lean into his back, press my face into his back, into him. And then his hand grabs mine and presses it into his stomach.

  Hold me tighter, that gesture says. Hold me tighter.

  So I do. I push my whole body into his back, wrap my arms around him as far as they will go, so tight that I'm almost hugging myself. My thighs slip up next to his, under them, like we are a lock and key and we fit together.

  And we ride. We leave all the calls for Fiona and Francesca behind. He knows these trails very well because he never hesitates, he takes turns and more turns and more trails until we're far away.

  Getting away.

  We're away.

  And even then, we keep going, for minutes, then more minutes, until the minutes turn into more minutes than I can keep track of, and all I can do is press myself into his back and hope, hope that maybe this is something good. Maybe this boy can end my nightmare and make things right again.

  Chapter Ten - Brody

  When I get close enough to worry her, she looks back, but her feet are bookin' it. I want to yell out to make her watch where she's going because it looks like she's in some kind of blind panic and she might slam into a tree or trip over a root, but I can't get the words out because the expression on her face is nothing but fear.

  And this is not normal. I get it, she's in a strange situation, but fear is not really the appropriate response when you come home to your family after being missing for twelve years.

  Neither is making a break for it by swinging yourself down a tree, landing on your ass, rolling into it like you're some kind of circus performer, and then booking it through the woods as fast as your legs can carry you.

  I come up behind her, then overtake her when the path gets wider for a few yards, and she goes down in the mud when I turn to cut her off. She's breathing so hard the air is coming out in disturbing gasps.

  I lean over and hold out my hand. "You wanna run, Fee? I'll get you out of here, get on."

  She scrambles to her feet, looking around wildly, then hops on the back and wraps her arms around my stomach.

  It feels so fucking good I almost forget to change gears when we pick up speed. The bike chokes a little and I feel her squeeze me tighter. I slip my hand down to hers and press her into me.

  Fiona.

  It's really her.

  She responds with a sigh and then pushes her face into my back and wraps her arms around my waist. Her chest is still heaving in and out with breathlessness, and her mouth against my back is soft and warm.

  I want her.

  But I concentrate on the ride instead, and making our way through the trails so that we come out somewhere they won't expect, because if I get her somewhere unexpected, I can have her to myself for a little while. Just a little while, that's all I need. Just long enough to tell her all the millions of ways I imagined us meeting again.

  Sean was right back at the store—I was obsessed with Fiona after she went missing and if I'm going to be completely honest with myself, I'm still obsessed.

  I take us down into a little ravine and when we pop back up she slips away from me a little. The panic that sets in when I feel her separated from me is inexplicable, but it washes over me so completely I have to swallow and tell myself she's still there.

  I think she feels it because she buries her head in my back again and I feel her sigh.

  She sighed.

  Her panic is dying.

  And I did that.

  We ride for twenty more minutes, going slow most of the time, going deeper into our wooded land. We have some trails back here that we can use for riding, but they're not well traveled. Case and Park never liked to go exploring. If you asked a psychologist they'd tell you it's got something to do with the parents dying, but if that's the case, they must be psychic. Because they never liked to wander away from home even before the parents were annihilated by a drunk driver on Christmas Eve five years ago.

  And that's a good thing for Fee and me, because while they both know we have a shed out in the woods, they've never actually been out there themselves.

  But Renn and I have. And Renn is out of town until next weekend. So that just leaves me.

  I know all these trails out here for one reason only. And that's because when Fiona went missing this is where I used to look for her.

  At first it was just a little kid's fantasy—go exploring in the woods, looking for a missing girl
. When you're little you don't care if those woods are nothing but a few elm trees in your back yard, you give them the same attention, see the same bad guys, or monsters, or wild animals as you would in the Amazon jungle.

  But our woods are all sorts of spectacular. They've got old trees in them, old hardwood trees that block out the sun because they are so tall. And fall down and rot and hide little furry creatures in them and maybe even offer sanctuary to the occasional lost black bear.

  I must have spent four entire summers, and I'm not exaggerating here, four entire summers out here, traipsing around these deer trails looking for my soulmate. And now she's clinging to me, pressing her mouth into my back, breathing me in and letting her panic go with each exhale.

  I plan on keeping her for as long as I can. Until we're dying of thirst and our stomachs are rumbling, and we're filthy from sleeping in the dirt under the stars.

  And that's probably tonight at the latest.

  But I'll take it.

  A few hours alone with Fee in the woods is worth more than a million dollars right now. Because there is nothing I want more than this girl.

  Chapter Eleven - Francesca

  We slow down after almost a half hour of straight riding, in silence. If he's uncomfortable with it, it doesn't show. I wait for him to try and make conversation over the hum of the bike, but he doesn't. His hands don't grab mine again, either. He just rides. Paying attention to where he's going. Taking turns, going straight, making his own path in some cases.

  And then we stop.

  He cuts the engine and turns his head a little, not far enough so I can see his face, just enough to let me know he's talking to me.

  "Gotta push the bike from here, I think. Too many trees. No one's been out this way in almost ten years."

  "Where are we?"

  He turns around all the way now, making the bike go off balance, and I slip to the side and fall off in slow motion, just like that little girl on her pony yesterday.

  "You speak English?" He gazes down at me with an incredulous look on his face as I sit in the mud for the second time today. I didn't really mean to speak English, it just slipped out. "And you're American."

  My one leg is still sorta stuck on the bike, while the other is painfully twisted underneath me. "Can you help me up? Or what?"

  He lowers the stand and my jeans are pulled a little with the change in position. I'm stuck on something and when I jerk my leg to free it, I hear a rip.

  Crap.

  He studies my captor, a bit of bent metal at the back of the seat, and then he frees my pant leg and offers his hand for the second time today.

  I take it. Again.

  "I think you owe me an explanation."

  "Do I?" I ask him coyly. He's not amused but he doesn't push it either, just shrugs and points towards nothing as far as I can tell.

  "It's just right over there."

  He doesn't wait for me to follow, or even look back to check and see if I am. It's like he knows I'll follow and that puts me off a little. Makes me want to not follow. But of course I will. What else am I gonna do? He bought me some time, the least I can do it try to enjoy it.

  I study him from behind, not his butt, although that is quite nice. I study his back, the way it moves under his t-shirt, the way his biceps and back change in small subtle ways as the muscles work when he pushes the bike over a log, and how he looks back at me with a smile after he gets it over—his bright blue eyes twinkling along with the golden hair that lines his cheeks. He's still unshaven. The days of not shaving make him really look bad in all the right ways.

  His shirt is a mess and I look down at my own clothes. The front of me is not so bad, but, I twist to see my own butt, I'm covered in mud from behind. When I turn back, he's watching me.

  "What?"

  "My brothers came and told me you were back yesterday, so the first thing I did was go down to Sean's work and see if it was true."

  He continues pushing the bike, but stops talking and waits, like he wants me to say something.

  "OK."

  "He confirmed it," he continues, "and since that second I've thought of nothing else but you."

  He stops to look back at me. Not just stops talking to look back, I mean he stops. Stops pushing the bike. It takes me a second to realize we're stopped. And by that time I'm right up next to him.

  "I had this whole plan of how I was gonna talk to you using a translate app on my phone." He laughs and dimples emerge as he takes me in. His whole face lights up with his thoughts, and then he pulls out his phone and speaks into it very softly. He reaches out and before I can even decide if I'd like him to touch me or not, he's right there, his body pushing against me. He puts his hand on my shoulder so he can pull me even closer, so close that there is almost no space between us. And then holds the phone up to my ear as it repeats his words in Italian.

  I have to take a deep breath because he said, I never stopped looking for you, Fee. And he doesn't even look embarrassed, even though he said it in two languages, both of which I understood.

  He's definitely not embarrassed. He is something else.

  And it's not happiness either, although that's probably part of it.

  He exudes relief.

  I let out a long breath. "Brody, this is not that simple and it's not what you think, I am not back. So please, do not get attached to me."

  His face falls and it hurts a little to watch it. It's not the first time I've had to quash a friendship because of who I am, but it is the first time it made me feel so horrible.

  "Well, here's the problem, Fee—"

  Oh, God, that nickname makes my stomach do all sorts of things it shouldn't.

  "—I've been attached to you since we were practically babies, so it's a little late for that."

  He starts pushing the bike before I can say anything, so I just follow behind him in silence until we get to a sort of clearing. It's not really a clearing, because the grass is waist-high, but it's definitely been cleared of trees. On the far end is a small building. It's got a door and a window and a roof that looks like it might blow away or cave in, but it's a building.

  I can hear the sound of running water not too far away and he follows my gaze into the woods and answers my unspoken question.

  "Little creek down that way."

  He leads the way over to the shack and parks the bike and then fights with the door until it pushes open and he disappears inside.

  And comes back out laughing.

  "There's absolutely no way you're going in there. It's been a while since I've been out here, sorry. I'll take you home whenever you want, I just thought you might like a little space."

  My legs sink down into the tall grass until I'm on my knees and then I lie back, not even caring that bugs might crawl up into my hair or anything. Brody comes over and lies down next to me.

  "Thank you," I say sincerely, looking sideways at him.

  His hands are clasped behind his head and he's just gazing up into the bright blue sky. "It's a nice day, huh?"

  "Yeah," I reply with a small laugh. "This is definitely one for the books."

  And then we're silent. And we lie still for so long my eyes close. And the sun is beating down on my body, a body that has been on red alert for more than eight weeks, warming me up, and I can feel Brody's body next to mine. His heat warms me up and makes me feel… OK.

  I relax.

  That's all it takes. Just a little bit of summer sun, a bed of soft green grass, and my life on pause with a boy named Brody.

  I am out.

  Chapter Twelve - Brody

  I don't know how someone with her life at the moment could possibly fall asleep out in the woods with a guy who is, for all practical purposes, a complete stranger. But she's breathing deep and even with sleep and we've only been lying here for about ten minutes.

  I turn to the side a little and watch her. She's still got her hands resting lightly on her stomach, and her legs are crossed at the ankles, but then she turn
s towards me and her arm falls over my stomach.

  And that's it. I'm in. I slip my arm under her shoulders and pull her into my chest until her cheek rests in the crook of my arm and I enjoy her. Maybe she'll be gone in a few hours. Maybe she'll have to go back to the Sullivans' house, or maybe someone will come take her away. The person she really belongs to will surely want her back. How could they not want her back? She sure doesn't sound like she's happy to be here.

  It doesn't matter, though. I'm in. Even if it's only for five more minutes, five minutes with my Fee is better than nothing. It's a dream fulfilled compared to where I was a few days ago, which was pretty much looking forward to nothing but working on my Jeep and playing father to Case and Parker while Renn does his whole ambition thing down in Georgia.

  Because life since Fiona disappeared has been one long fuck-up after another. I don't really blame Frank and Sean for not liking us. I haven't exactly been the model young adult. Even after my vow to be good after the parents died, I had some slips. Arrested twice for fighting, once for underage drinking, and once for possession of pot. But that was as a juvie, so it barely counts.

  I laugh at that. It counts, but it's forgiven. Tucked away as just another tragic childhood mistake by Brody Mason—that poor kid who lost his parents and his neighbor and never got over either one.

  Everyone knows it, it's no secret how I felt all these years. Although it's been a while since anyone's brought it up. I'd finally put it behind me and this happens. Just when you think you've got life under control, it yanks your chain and tells you to heel.

  My Fiona sighs, mumbling something in Italian that sounds a lot like I am not Fiona Sullivan. "Sure thing, Fee. You keep telling yourself that, hon. But the truth is, you are Fiona Sullivan and I'll be damned if I'll let you get away again."

  She stirs and for a minute I hold my breath because I don't want her to wake up and push me away. I just want to have her to myself for a little while. She quiets down and then her hand pulls on my shirt and she snuggles closer.

  I am so content right now, it scares me.