Blackout (Lewiston Blues Series/Black Family Saga Book 2)

by Scully, Felicia X.

  I unpack my bag, folding each article of clothing and placing them in the three drawers on the right of the vanity. The creased envelope at the bottom stares back at me and I quickly close the flap, letting out a heavy sigh. I’ve spent the last couple of days so wrapped up in my relationship with Roscoe, I almost forgot it existed. I’ve allowed the most important decision of my life to sit on the back burner for far too long and the heaviness is quick to settle in my chest again, my stomach rolling as I consider my options.

  The right thing to do would be to say yes—absolutely I’ll raise my sister’s children. Because she asked me to and the answer should be obvious. But it isn’t. Over the past few days, not only have I become unsure of my relationship with the man I’ve been living with all winter, but I’m not even familiar with my own abilities. Can I do what Shannon wants? Even if I did say yes, even if I honored her by doing what she asked, would I do it right? Motherhood isn’t supposed to be forced on you. Not when you’re nineteen and still struggling with your own identity. It’s supposed to be a clear choice. Something you’ve been thinking about—craving— for so damn long when the opportunity finally presents itself you’re on cloud nine.

  As it stands, not only am I young and completely inexperienced, I’ve never been in a darker place in my entire life. I’m not sure being someone’s mother is even remotely a good idea right now, no matter what Shannon thinks. Besides, when she named me as guardian, she couldn’t have thought she’d die before Mariah was even born and Ray could even speak. She couldn’t have been thinking of her impulsive, teenaged sister. She was thinking of me as an adult. Probably having gone to college, maybe even settled down and married. Right now, I’m not the person she had in mind.

  I open the bag again to retrieve the envelope. Then, as swiftly as I can, I yank open the top drawer and bury it under my clothes.

  It doesn’t take me long to drift off after I’ve changed into my pajamas and settled beneath the soft, fleece blanket. When I wake up the next morning, it’s to the mouth-watering aroma of bacon. I sit up in the bed, stretching my arms above me and smile to myself. But it’s quickly followed by a hollow in my chest, as an instant replay of the last two years of my life flashes before me. I swing my legs over the bed and take several deep breaths. But this time, instead of forcing the tears at bay, I allow them to fall as I glance up at the ceiling.

  It’s been days. Ever since she told me to go home, I haven’t heard from my sister. She hasn’t visited me once. And I can’t help but wonder if she’s angry with me. I shake my head, squeezing my eyes shut and gripping the edge of the mattress. She’s not angry. She’s not anything. She’s gone.

  There’s a knock at the door and I quickly dry my face with the back of my hand. I grab a tissue from the nightstand and wipe my nose.

  “Yeah?” I croak.

  “You up?” The sound of his voice instantly soothes me and I scold myself. No tears, Sheila. Not now.

  “Yeah,” I clear my throat and wad up the tissue, tossing it in the wicker wastebasket at the side of the bed. “Come in.”

  Ross enters with a tray in his hands and TV table under his arm. I can’t help but laugh out loud. “Are you serious?”

  “Breakfast in bed. And before you say anything, I know how cheesy you think this is. But in my defense, I owe you.”

  “For what?”

  “Are you kidding me? That camping trip was a near-disaster. If it weren’t for you and your rustic culinary skills we’d have both starved.”

  I snicker. “Right. Because the ten minute drive back home would have been unbearable.”

  Roscoe places the tray at the foot of the bed, then proceeds to unfold the TV table and place next to me. “It’s good to have you back. And I didn’t mean for this to be awkward. It’s just—”

  “It’s okay. You were right. We could both use the space.” If space is what he wants, it’s what he’ll get. And me being all whiny about it isn’t going to help things. I can’t let him see me that way anymore. I won’t. He shakes his head, but I paint on a bright smile and offer a playful nudge. “Besides, this mattress is amazing. Where was it manufactured? Heaven? That’s the best sleep I’ve had, like, ever.” I snatch up a piece of bacon and take bite. “I don’t know, Ross. Bacon, a designer mattress, my own room. You may just have a housemate for life,” I wink.

  “Long as you’re happy. That’s all I care about.” His words warm me like a hot flash, but I try hard not to let it show. He stands letting out a heavy sigh. “Alright, Carlson. Eat up. I’ve got to head over the restaurant for a few but I’ll be back. And you need to be ready for our next trip.”

  “A few” turns out to be four hours later. But I’m not complaining. I spent the entire morning curled up in that bed and the afternoon feeding my Another World and Days of Our Lives addiction with Coco. When she left to have dinner with her dad, I played Solitaire for an hour straight.

  By the time Ross arrives, I’m going stir crazy and I’m on my feet the second the door opens. I’m neither surprised or thrilled to see he’s not alone.

  He casts me an apologetic glance as Maya slips in behind him.

  “Hey.” His smile is so plastic I know something’s up. “I called earlier but I think I forgot to turn the ringer back on this morning. We got caught up in this thing with the contractor and I couldn’t leave. Otherwise I would’ve—”

  “It’s okay,” I say feigning nonchalance. “Hi, Maya.”

  Ross clears his throat. “I just need to give her some papers,” he explains. “Forgot to take them with me this morning and didn’t want to drive all the way back. So she followed me home.” He looks nervous as he walks past me toward the stairs. His gaze skitters from Maya to me then back to the stairwell. “Uh…I’ll be right back.”

  The second he’s out of range, Maya’s bitchy glare turns on me. “Didn’t realize Ross had company.”

  “Didn’t realize it was any of your business.”

  “So, what? You’ve latched onto him again?”

  “I’ve never been latched onto anyone.” I’m struggling to keep my composure, a lump lodged in my throat. “We’re roommates.” It sounds ridiculous and I wish I could just call it what I want it to be, put her in her place for once.

  She smirks. “Oh, so you sleep with him for a place to lay your head at night. Is that it?” She arches an eyebrow and I clench my teeth.

  “Whatever helps you sleep at night, Maya?” I flip my hair over my shoulder, wishing I’d bothered to change out of these damn sweats. “How was L.A.? Didn’t expect you to be back so soon.”

  “Gorgeous as usual. Crawling with glamorous, shallow people.”

  “You must have fit right in.”

  “Actually, it wasn’t my scene.” Her gaze shifts to the staircase. “Besides, I had unfinished business.”

  I finally have the sense to turn my back on her and head toward the kitchen. The bottle of rum on the counter is still calling out to me, no matter how faint. But Maya’s voice is clear as day.

  “Ross may be under your spell now,” she says, following after me. “But it’ll eventually wear of. You do know that, right? He’s Ross Black. He doesn’t do Knight in Shining Armor. Eventually, you’re going to have to find yourself another hero.” I turn slowly to face her tempted to tell her just how much of a hero he’s been but I can’t get into it with her. Not now. I need to keep it together. She smiles just as sweetly as though she were genuinely wishing me well. “Just a friendly warning.”

  “All right, Maya.” Ross appears at the top of the stairs with a box in his arms. “Here they are. Every receipt my father ever kept. It should give you a good idea of what to expect.” He reaches the bottom of the steps and places the box at her feet.

  “What the hell is this?”

  He frowns. “Everything you asked for. Cash flow, expenses, receipts, tax assessments. I’m sure you’ll find what you’re looking for somewhere in here.”

  “Roscoe, that is a cardboard box. Are you serious? Th
at’s going to take forever to go through. Have you never heard of a filing system?”

  He shrugs. “Sorry. When I packed up the restaurant, we were just trying to get it done. I never planned on needing this stuff.”

  “This is going to take us all night.”

  “Oh, I can’t. I have plans.” He glances over at me with smile. “I’ll take it out to the car for you. You start going through stuff. If you don’t find it, I’ll help you tomorrow.” He turns to me. “You ready?”

  I nod eagerly. The elation of him choosing me over her makes me swell with pride. “I’ll just go change.”

  “Can I expect everyone of our little outings to be mysterious?” I ask. “And at night?”

  Roscoe chuckles. He shakes his head then cocks it to the side. “Actually, yeah. But I didn’t plan it that way I swear.”

  “So you already know where you’re taking me next?”

  “Yep.”

  “And how do you know I’m going to want to go after wherever it is you take me now? What if nearly being starved to death in the woods and whatever’s coming up next is enough to make me run back home?”

  He glances over at me, his lips pressed together.

  “I’m kidding.” I pat his leg, allowing my hand to linger there for a moment.

  We ride in a silence for a few more minutes, the piercing evening sun blinding me through the windshield. I pull down the visor and sit a little higher in my seat. The truth is if wherever he takes me leads to what it did the other night, I won’t be complaining at all. And home will be the last thing on my mind. I smile to myself, but it quickly disappears as reality begins to set in once more.

  Home isn’t the last thing on my mind. How could it be? It’s always on my mind. Home and Shannon. And what she did. My emotions are all over the place every time I think about it. One minute I feel incredibly guilty. I consider packing up my things and going back. The next I’m so confused I have no choice but push it out of my mind, distract myself with anything else. And times like now, I want to scream at her for making my life complicated—even beyond the grave. But I know I can’t be mad. I spent enough months while she was alive putting distance between us and look how it all ended up. Now I’ll be lucky if I ever see her in one of my psychotic dreams again. I lean my head against the window and close my eyes, fighting the tears. The look on Grandma’s face that night, her words, I can’t get them out of my head. I’d finally gone back. Decided to do what was right and bam! Even with the best of intentions I screw things up. How can I ever be what I’m expected to be? How can I be someone’s mother?

  The car slows and Roscoe asks, “You ready?”

  I nod. I don’t dare speak for fear of another breakdown and now's not the time. Not when he’s doing everything in his power to help me hold it together.

  “Okay, let’s hurry. Before it’s completely dark. I want to show you something.”

  I take a deep breath and reach for my door handle. That’s when I realize where we are. I freeze, my stomach gripping. My heart slams against my chest and I turn to face him.

  “What are we doing here?”

  “I told you,” he responds. “I want to show you something. I think you’re going to—”

  “I’m not going out there. I’m not going in there.” Is he insane? I’ve avoided this one thing all these months. He knows that. What would make him think I’d want to step foot inside cemetery?

  “It’s just—I wanted to show you something special,” he says. “We don’t have to—”

  “Take me home,” I croak.

  “Sheila.” He reaches for my hand but I pull away. “Oh, shit. No. Sheila, I wasn’t planning on taking you in there. I swear I would never. It’s the place across the street.”

  I don’t bother to look at him. I can’t. I’m shaking. My knees, my hands. “Please,” I say. “Just take me back.”

  “Okay,” he says quietly.

  He starts up the car again and I hug myself leaning into the window. I squeeze my eyes shut trying to block out the images—the crosses, the dark gray stones, the rainbow of wreaths, the perfectly manicured land. How can something that would otherwise be beautiful, be filled with so much sadness—so much regret. My entire body is shaking now and I can hardly breath. My limbs are growing numb, my vision spotty. I can hear him talking, but I can’t make out what he’s saying. He’s touching me—his fingers squeezing my shoulders—but I can barely feel it. No, Sheila. Stop it! Just calm the fuck down. Since I got back, I’ve held it together. I haven’t lost it on him. I haven’t broken down into ten thousand tears. I’ve held on. But just the sight of those gravestones…

  I squeeze my eyes tighter, taking a series of shallow breaths. She’s in one just like it. In the cold, dark ground. She’ll always be there. Alone. I wish I could help her. I just want to help her. She doesn’t deserve this. It’s my fault. Luke’s fault. And Ross. We did this to her. We left her all by herself and now she’s gone. She’s never coming back. Never.

  “Sheila!” I barely register Ross’s voice. “Sheila!” I glance over at him and it’s like everything is in slow motion. He’s frantic, I can tell, but I can’t respond. “Calm down. Just stay calm.”

  I’m shivering. I’m cold and sweaty at the same time. Oh, god. And I can’t breathe. Something’s strangling me, drowning me. Filling up my lungs, but squeezing my windpipe.

  “It’s going to be okay,” he says. “Just relax. I’m going to get you home.”

  But it’s not going to be okay. It won’t be. Ever again.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  Ross

  I light up my cigarette and take a long, much-needed drag.

  What a fucking disaster.

  I rub my eyes, then lean back on the porch, propping myself up on my elbows. A cemetery. What was I thinking? It never even crossed my mind. I’d never have taken her in there, but I hadn’t anticipated the sight of one would do that.

  I pull another drag and let it out with a heavy sigh.

  There’s a rustling in the bushes that separate our house from the Roses and Cole appears. From the look on his face, I can tell he’s still worried. I had to call on him to help me get Sheila out of the car and up the stairs. The whole time he looked at me like I’d broken his favorite toy.

  “Come on,” I call. “I promise not to bite. And I won’t call the cops.”

  His laugh is nervous as he shuffles across the brittle grass, to stand in front of me. I’ve seen more of him in the last few days than I have in the last decade.

  “Thanks,” I say. “For helping me out earlier.”

  He nods, hands in his pocket as he kicks at the gravel. “What the hell happened?”

  “She had a panic attack.”

  “Yeah, Ross. I got that part. Why?”

  “Because I’m a fucking idiot and I took her to a cemetery.”

  “You what?” His eyes bug and I wave him off.

  “Relax. It wasn’t like that. I took her to Lewis-Clark. We parked across the street and she saw it. She thought I was going to make her go inside and she freaked out. She was saying all kinds of crazy shit about how we all put her sister in the ground. How she was alone and scared.” I rub my forehead. “She was a mess, Cole. A fucking mess.”

  “Shit.”

  I nod. “I guess I’m not the man for the job after all. Maybe you should take a crack at it. Or Coco, she’s the one who’s her best friend.”

  “Why’d you take her there?”

  “It’s where I took you. Under the bleachers. Remember, where you buried that box for your mom? I wanted her to see it. It’s cheesy I know. But lately, it’s been easy for her to talk about her sister more and more lately. So I was just looking for a way to bring it up without being obvious.”

  “Maybe you need to rethink the whole thing. That place was important to me because it’s where my mom worked. It’s where we used to hang out when she was on her break. The bleachers at Lewis-Clark don’t mean a thing to Sheila.”

  I shru
g a little, blowing another puff of smoke into the air. “I’m an idiot.”

  “No, you’re not. You were trying. And to be honest, I think she would have appreciated the effort.”

  “Well, now she won’t talk to me.”

  “She’s just upset. She’ll get over it.”

  “It’s not just that, Cole. I don’t know about this. Twice she’s brought up going home and twice I convinced her to stay.”

  He frowns. I consider telling him everything—just like I used to. About the custody suit, my growing feelings for her. But quickly decide against it. We may be cool now but we’re not that close and he’d probably just tell me I’m crazy. Tell me to drop the whole thing and to set her free if I really care, or some crap like that. And he’d probably be right.

  “I know,” I say instead. “Totally fucking up my mission, right?” I snicker, outing my cigarette. I stand to meet him at the bottom of the stairs and glance up at the guest room window, lowering my voice. “It’s just a hell of a lot easier said than done. I know she needs to move on. After tonight, there’s no doubt in my mind.”

  “So what are you going to do about it?”

  I shrug. “Try again, I guess. But I’m not sure it’ll do any good. I thought about just telling her to go. I know she’d listen to me but, at the same time, she’d hate me. Probably never speak to me again.” And that would destroy any chance I had with those kids—not to mention crush my fucking soul.

  “But if it gets the job done…”

  “No way. I’ll help her. But I won’t alienate her. I’m the only person she’s been able to count on since everything happened. I already fucked up enough with all that Maya business. Sheila trusts me. I can get her to go but it has to be gently. She has to want it.”