The Complete Book Of Fallen Angels

by Valmore Daniels

  “Blamed him for what?” I asked. “Something to do with my mother?”

  She looked at me. “I want to tell you the truth. I honestly don’t believe your father knows he has a daughter. If he did, he never said anything.” Shaking her head, she went back to fixing lunch.

  “What happened?” I pressed.

  She sighed. “If you’re his daughter, then I suppose you have a right to know.”

  Having finished making the sandwich, she poured a glass of milk and put both in front of me. “Eat up, my dear. You look like you haven’t had anything decent to eat in an age.”

  I couldn’t help myself; I picked up the sandwich and bit into it. “Mmm.” It tasted so good, I didn’t stop eating, even while Rosy spoke.

  “We had another son, Nathaniel. When the two of them were very young, there was a terrible accident. They ran across a frozen lake, the ice broke, and they both fell in. Nathaniel drowned. By all accounts, both of them should have died, but somehow, your father survived. The grief blinded us. We were unfair to him for years, and in his teens, he acted out.” There was a tear in her eye as she stared off into the distance. “We all said so many unforgivable things to each other.”

  I ate the last bite of crust, and picked up the milk to wash it down. The last thing I wanted to do was stop her from telling me the story.

  “I wish I could go back and do things differently. Your father was troubled, broody, and distant. A year after he graduated from high school, he’d started seeing a girl named Ally. As far as I knew, he only saw her a few times … then, one day, without warning, he moved out. He didn’t even leave a note to say he was gone or where he was going.”

  Taking my empty plate and glass, she brought them to the sink. “He sent his first card that Christmas, telling us he was all right, and had found a job out west.”

  “Out west?” I asked.

  Smiling at me, Rosy said, “He might have been a troubled youth, but he turned out to be a good man. If he’d known about you, I’m sure he would never have gone off.”

  “Can we call him or something?” I asked, my voice shaky.

  Before my grandmother could answer, Norman stalked into the house and, shooting me a hate-filled glare, went directly to the television in the living room and turned it on.

  A news reporter filled the screen and spoke in a grave tone.

  “This morning’s top story: Police were called late last night to the Shoreside Trailer park, where they discovered the body of Allison Rogers, 34. They are calling it a homicide. The authorities have not named a suspect in the slaying, but they have issued a lookout for Dwight Channing, 35, the common-law husband of the victim.

  “Neighbors report that Ms. Rogers’ teenage daughter may have been in the home at the time of the incident. Authorities are unable to locate the girl at this time.”

  Norman turned on me, his eyes wide. “You see?” he said, directing his words at his wife. “This little delinquent is playing us for the fools. She’s lying to us just so she can hide from the police.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” Rosy said, thrusting her hands on her hips. “That’s the stupidest thing you’ve ever said, Norman.”

  “Yeah?” he asked, looking at her directly. “We’ll see who’s telling the truth when the police get here. I just called them from the phone in the garage.”

  My stomach did a flip-flop. He called the cops on me? The moment they arrived, they’d spill everything about me: the Center, my recent escape. Even though Norman was wrong about why I came here, it would look like I was doing exactly as he thought.

  I withered under his look of triumph.

  “Tell me I’m wrong, missy?” When I didn’t answer, he said to Rosy, “She’s no granddaughter of mine; that much I can tell you.”

  Desperately, I looked at Rosy to see if she’d changed her mind about me. I could tell by her face that a shadow of doubt had crept into her mind.

  It was time for me to go, but I needed to know one more thing.

  I said to her, “I promise I’m telling the truth. My mother told me you were my grandparents just before she died. I believe her, and I hope you will, too. There’s only one way to know for sure. Is there any way we can call my father and ask if it’s possible?”

  “You’re not calling anyone,” Norman said. Shocking me, he strode over to the phone and ripped the power cord out of the outlet. “The police will be here any minute, and then we’ll be rid of you and your lies.”

  I couldn’t chance waiting around any longer. “I’m sorry to have caused you any trouble,” I said to Rosy.

  Visibly struggling to keep control of her emotions, my grandmother nodded. “Come with me.”

  “What are you doing?” Norman demanded as she led me to the back door.

  Snatching her purse on the way, she grabbed her wallet and pulled a handful of bills out. Pressing them into my hand, she said, “You can find him in Denver, Colorado. He works for the fire department there.

  “Oh, and his name is Neil.”

  Chapter Five

  As soon as I stepped outside into the backyard, I saw a squad car pull into the driveway out front.

  Hoping the officer hadn’t spotted me, I ducked behind the house and leaned against the siding, holding my breath. When no one popped out with their gun pointed at me, I eased back to the corner and looked.

  The lone officer spoke into his radio, then opened the car door and stepped out. He adjusted his belt and headed for the house.

  I breathed a sigh of relief. He hadn’t seen me.

  The sound of the front door creaking opening was followed by Norman’s voice. “She just ran out back, Officer!”

  My guts twisted, and my instincts kicked in. Without waiting to see if the cop was taking up the chase, I raced across the back yard and jumped over the fence. Landing funny on my ankle, I limped a few more steps before breaking into a full run down the alley.

  I didn’t look back until I was more than half a mile away, and then only because I was so out of breath I couldn’t keep up my pace.

  There was no one behind me, but out of the corner of my eye, I saw the flash of the squad car lights between houses.

  Keeping low and out of sight, I ran down random alleyways until I was sure I’d lost him.

  Once I decided I’d put enough distance between me and my grandparents’ house, I ducked into the garden shed of a house that looked empty. If the owners were at work, it would be a few hours before they returned. I figured the cop would give up his hunt long before then.

  * * *

  I didn’t trust the bus station. In the movies, the cops always put an officer there, among other getaway spots, when looking for a fugitive.

  Instead, I walked toward the interstate. Maybe I could find a truck stop and hitch a ride to Colorado.

  It took me hours to get across the city. By the time I reached a roadside diner, my legs felt like rubber, and my feet were burning.

  The first place I went was to the ladies’ room. I sat down in a stall and locked the door so that anyone who came in wouldn’t see me cry.

  So much had happened in the past day, I didn’t think I could handle it all. It was too much. I just wanted to curl into a little ball and shut my eyes.

  My heart hurt. Dwight had killed my mother. It didn’t matter that it wasn’t intentional. He had created a situation that led to her death. I had no idea how I was going to do it, but I swore that I would make him pay somehow.

  It wouldn’t bring my mother back. I knew that. I also knew there wasn’t anything I wanted more than to have her alive again.

  It was only at the end that I’d realized how much I actually loved her. Despite her faults, and how much I hated how weak and helpless she’d been—letting Dwight dominate her, hiding herself away from the world—she was still my mother. At the last, she’d risen to my defense, willing to fight off the brute who was going to hurt me.

  I felt a sharp sense of guilt. I’d been ready to run away and never see her
again.

  Was there a pattern? Apparently, my father had left home the same way I’d intended. At the very least, he’d reached out several times to let his mother know he was all right. Did he miss his parents? Did he love them, despite the fact his father—my grandfather—was a miserable old coot?

  I reached into my pocket and pulled out the wad of bills my grandmother had given me. At a quick count, it was more than a hundred dollars, but I knew that wasn’t nearly enough to get me to Colorado.

  I had an idea, and the thought gave me butterflies. I could try calling my father, explaining who I was, and asking him if he could arrange to get me out there.

  I left the bathroom and went to one of the payphones on the wall nearby.

  Picking up the phone, I pressed the button for the operator.

  Before anyone answered, I hung up.

  What would I say to my father?

  Hey, you don’t know me, but I’m your daughter; can you send me some money so I can come see you?

  Would he believe me or would he think I was trying to scam him, like Norman thought?

  I had to tell him something.

  Taking a breath, I lifted the phone off the hook once more and then hung it up again.

  I couldn’t just blurt out, Do you remember a girl named Ally Rogers? She had your baby fourteen years ago—me—and didn’t bother to tell you. By the way, she’s dead now, and I need you to take care of me.

  I was such an idiot when it came to talking to people. My mouth always seemed to get me in trouble. I always said the wrong thing, or I said it the wrong way.

  No, I decided, it was better to show up in person, talk to him face-to-face. That would give me time to think about what I would say. If I came up with the right words, he might be willing to believe me.

  I didn’t pick the phone up again, and took a few steps back toward the dining area.

  Without more money, how would I get there?

  There were too many horror stories about hitchhiking. I wasn’t about to take my chances being alone in a car with a stranger. Anyone I thought I could trust probably wouldn’t trust me, anyway. For the first time, I regretted what I’d done to my hair.

  “Can I help you, young lady?”

  I practically jumped out of my skin. Standing beside me was an overweight, middle-aged man wearing a greasy apron over a short-sleeved shirt.

  He eyed me with suspicion.

  “Uh.” Trying to keep my voice from getting high and pitchy, I said, “Do you need someone to help out here?”

  Narrowing his eyes, he assessed me. “You’re just a kid. You should be in school.”

  “I—” The words caught in my throat. “I don’t have any place to go.”

  Just when I thought he was going to tell me to leave, one of the waitresses who’d been hovering nearby came over. “Floyd, why don’t you give her a break? We’ve needed someone to wash dishes and take out the trash since Owen quit.”

  Floyd gave the waitress a sour look, then turned back to me. “You caught me in a weak moment, little girl. We’ll go day by day. I suppose you don’t have any paperwork or identification, so I’ll give you twenty bucks cash at the end of the day. If you show up tomorrow and work, I’ll give you another twenty.”

  The waitress gave him a light slap on the shoulder. “That’s barely half minimum wage.”

  “Fine,” Floyd said. “Thirty bucks.”

  “And whatever she can eat,” the waitress said. She pointed at my skinny arms. “No point in hiring her if she passes out from malnutrition.”

  Grumbling in reply, Floyd waved a hand at me as if I were an annoying fly. To the waitress, he said, “You show her around. I got work to do.” He went back into the kitchen.

  “Name’s Henrietta,” the waitress said, holding her hand out to shake mine.

  “Serena.”

  She nodded to the back of the diner. “Come on. I’ll get you set up.”

  “Thank you,” I said as I followed her.

  “Think nothing of it.” She stopped at the rear entrance to the kitchen and turned toward me. “That was your mother on the news last night, wasn’t it?”

  Suddenly, I couldn’t breathe.

  “Don’t worry, honey,” she said. “I’m not going to say anything. My brother-in-law was one of the paramedics who was there. I’m so sorry for what happened. It’s horrible.”

  I fought to hold back my tears.

  Henrietta touched my hair. “You’re going to have to do something about this. If I figured out who you are, others will, too.”

  “Why are you helping me?” I asked. “Why not just turn me in?”

  Though she smiled, her eyes looked away, and I could see the pain in them. “You remind me of my little sister. She wouldn’t let me help her. Maybe you’ll let me help you.”

  “Thank you,” I said again.

  She winked and said, “You may not thank me when you see the pile of dishes waiting for you.”

  * * *

  It was the hardest day of my life. By the end of the shift, my hands were wrinkled and peeling from the hot water.

  Floyd grudgingly gave me the money he’d promised me along with a plate of food, which I gobbled up so fast, my stomach hurt afterward.

  Henrietta offered to take me home with her; her husband was out of town on business for a few days. I went along with it partly because she showed me true kindness, and that was not a common experience for me. I also felt completely vulnerable, and I had to admit that I was scared. Henrietta gave me a sense of security that I desperately needed.

  I tried to act on my best behavior. I bit my lip when she told me it was time to go to bed and to brush my teeth. When she took me to a discount store the next morning to outfit me with new clothes, I couldn’t stop thanking her.

  The second evening with her, I let her trim my hair and dye it black—she said it was the only way to hide the green. I was proud of myself that I didn’t complain once, though I hated the style she gave me. I decided I could live with the color for now.

  When I told her I wanted to go to Denver to track down my father, she offered to help me look up his number.

  “That’s all right,” I said. “I think I need to be there and talk to him in person.”

  Henrietta didn’t press the issue; instead, she found out the cost of a bus ticket to Colorado. “With working at the diner, you should have enough by the end of the week, if you save up.”

  Several times over the following two days, I picked up the pay phone, still undecided about calling my father, but I always chickened out. I still had no idea what I was going to say to him.

  The day that Henrietta’s husband was supposed to come back, she said, “We’re going to have to find you somewhere to stay tonight. Verne wouldn’t understand about you. He’s a good man, but he believes in the system.”

  I was a little disappointed, but I said, “That’s all right. You’ve already done too much.”

  While we drove to the truck stop diner, I asked Henrietta about her sister, but the only thing she said was, “I’ve spent so much time and energy trying to help her, I’ve put off having children. My husband has been patient, but I know he wants kids.” She smiled at me. “Having you around for the past few days has made me think it’s time.”

  “You’ll make a great mother,” I said, trying not to let the words stick in my throat. My mother hadn’t been great, but I still loved her. I wished I could go back and tell her.

  As we pulled into the parking lot, Henrietta slammed on brakes and swore.

  I looked around, and felt my heart skip. There were two police cruisers at the front of the diner, the lights flashing.

  “Are they there for me?” I asked.

  “I don’t know, but I don’t think we can take the chance. They might still have an alert out on you.” She looked me in the eye. “Let’s get you to the bus station.”

  “Won’t the police be staking it out?” I asked.

  “Probably not.” Henrietta smiled a
t me. “We’ll scope the place out first, just to be sure no one’s looking for you.”

  I slumped my shoulders. “I don’t have enough money.”

  Putting her car back in gear, Henrietta drove back onto the highway. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll cover the rest.”

  We got to the bus station and, keeping an eye out for any police or security guards, we got into line at the ticket counter.

  I pulled out the money I’d saved and counted it along with the bills my grandmother had given me. I had a little over a hundred and sixty dollars.

  Henrietta put her hand on mine and said, “You’ll need that for food and whatever else. The ticket is my treat.”

  Never in my life had I felt bad about begging or stealing money; now, when it was freely offered with no strings, I felt guilty.

  I let out a deep breath. “I can’t take your money.”

  “Call it a loan, then,” Henrietta said. “One day, if you come back to Portland, you can pay it off.”

  I was still doubtful.

  She gave me a gentle smile and said, “I want to do it.”

  “All right,” I said finally. “Thank you.”

  We purchased the ticket, and Henrietta walked me to the waiting area.

  “I have to get back to work,” she said. “I can tell Floyd I had car trouble, but if don’t go in at all, he’ll know something’s up; I’ve never missed a day.”

  To my surprise, she leaned over and gave me a hug. “You take care of yourself, Serena. Let me know if you find your father.”

  “I will,” I said, and thanked her once more. As she left, I felt something I never thought I would feel.

  Hope.

  There were good people in the world. Henrietta had proved that.

  In my heart, I wanted to believe that my father was the good person my grandmother said he was.

  Over the two days it took for the bus to get from Portland to Denver, I imagined hundreds of scenarios of how great life would be once I was united with my father.