Shelter

by Stephanie Fournet

  The image of her by the pool would come back to me at the weirdest times. Like on Saturday mornings at my apartment when I could wake without an alarm. I’d blink my eyes open to sunlight filtered through the bedroom curtains with the vision of her in my head.

  Unbidden. Unwelcome. But there just the same.

  She’s sixteen, I’d scold myself. But then I’d be talking to Ava on the phone, and I’d ask questions I shouldn’t be asking. “Where’s she thinking about going to college? Is she driving yet? Does she have a boyfriend?”

  The last question had made my sister ask what the hell was wrong with me.

  What the hell is wrong with me?

  But Elise Cormier was now standing in front of me. I’d been waiting on the back porch for the better part of an hour, and talking to her now seemed absolutely essential.

  Because I’d upset her. I’d made fun of the book Ava was reading to her, and she’d left angry. For the last hour, I’d asked myself why I’d been such a jerk, and the best answer I could come up with was just so lame.

  I’d wanted her attention.

  After she’d gone, I’d reimagined the afternoon about nineteen different ways. I should have just walked in, gotten a cup of Flora’s cocoa and sat with them, saying nothing. Just listened and watched as my sister read.

  Or I could have swiped the book from Ava’s hands and picked up where she left off, reading aloud to both of them. Then she would have had to watch me. Listen to my voice. Maybe then, when she pictured her sexy vampire later, I’d be in there. In her head, taking up space the way she’d claimed real estate in mine.

  It seemed only fair.

  Now, standing in front of me, Elise narrowed her amber eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It means I respect you, and I’m sorry if I offended you today,” I said, giving her only a little of what I had, but liking myself better for it. She was sixteen. She didn’t need to know I pictured her in her bathing suit.

  But I didn’t want her to be upset with me. And if she would agree just to sit down and talk for a little while, maybe it would ease some of the curiosity I had about her, and then maybe I wouldn’t think of her so much.

  I watched Elise give me a surprised blink before she schooled her features into that defiant, armored expression she usually wore.

  “You didn’t offend me,” she said with emphasis.

  “Oh?” I prompted when she didn’t elaborate.

  She lowered one shoulder, squaring off with me as though she wanted to charge me like a bull. “You embarrassed me.” And then I watched her swallow. “Like you always do.”

  I reeled back from the accusation in her words, but I couldn’t outright deny them. I embarrassed her? How was that possible when she’d always seemed so self-contained, so capable?

  Like right now. I would never be able to stand in front of someone and admit she’d embarrassed me. Where did she get that kind of strength?

  I cleared my throat, wanting to tread cautiously. “I’m not saying I don’t…” I settled back on the swing, hoping she’d see my relaxed posture as non-threatening. Maybe she’d even join me. “But how do I embarrass you?”

  Elise bent forward at her waist and let out a cough of shock. “Are you kidding me? When you’re not ignoring me, you’re reminding me how dumb I am.”

  “No,” I denied, shaking my head. “That’s not true because you’re not dumb. Dumb kids don’t make honor roll.”

  Now she reeled back in surprise, her guard slipping. “How did you know I made honor roll?”

  I felt the corners of my mouth aching to pull into a smile. “Ava told me,” I admitted. Heat rose on my cheeks until I saw hers color, too. The sight of her blushing, so raw and arresting, put me at ease.

  “You should be proud of that,” I told her. What I didn’t say was that I was proud. Proud of her. I knew she’d had to fight her way back from academic failure years ago. I knew she probably had a learning disability that kept her from having the kind of ease in school Ava and I had always enjoyed, and I was proud of her for powering through. I was proud of Ava, too, for all the help she’d given Elise over the years. And, yeah, I was a little proud of myself for setting all of that in motion. We’d done something good, Ava and me. We’d helped somebody instead of always being helpless.

  Someone would leave our house better off.

  This is what I’d taken to telling myself sometimes when thoughts of Elise Cormier came to mind and I didn’t move them along fast enough. She’s a philanthropic interest, I’d say. I’m invested in her welfare.

  Of course, none of that explained the recurring imaginings of the orange bikini.

  Elise cleared her throat and studied her shoes. “Thank you,” she muttered. Then she straightened up, and I sensed she was about to turn and leave.

  I had to stop her.

  “H-how’s your jewelry business?” I blurted lamely.

  Elise rolled her eyes, but I saw her press her lips together to tame a smile. “It’s not really a business,” she countered.

  “Sure, it is. You have a product you sell, right?”

  She blinked. “Yeah.”

  I nodded. “You have inventory, don’t you?”

  Elise bit the corner of her lip. “What? You mean, like, beads and stuff?”

  “Yes, and pieces you haven’t sold,” I said, ticking off these items on my fingers. “You have customers, right?”

  At this, a giggle erupted from her, and it was the sweetest sound I’d heard in months. Light, unchecked, and full of joy. “Customers? Yeah, I guess, I mean…” She shrugged, her smile growing. “…a lot of girls at school buy from me more than once, and my stall at the farmer’s market can get busy sometimes.”

  This was news. “Wait, you have your own stall now? You’re not still using the one that belongs to… to… whose was it again?” I asked, trying to remember what she’d told me years ago.

  Her amber eyes rounded at this. “Mama’s friend Rita,” she said, slightly awed. “I can’t believe you remember that.”

  “Like I said, you impress me.” I shook off this diversion. “So, you have an actual place of business. Do you have to pay for it?”

  Again she shrugged. “Well, yeah, to sell at the farmer’s market, you have to pay the registration fee—”

  “Which is essentially rent,” I interrupted, my excitement growing. “Besides rent and inventory, what other expenses do you have?”

  Her eyes lit like candles. “Well, sometimes Alberta helps me, so I pay her—”

  “You have employees?!” I practically shouted. “How can you say this isn’t a business? The next thing you’re going to tell me is that you pay taxes.”

  The way she smiled and bit her lip said it all.

  “Holy crap. You pay taxes,” I murmured.

  “Well, if you make more than five hundred a year, you have to claim it,” she explained innocently.

  My smile was electric. “And you’ve made more than five hundred in a year?”

  “Um, last year, I made more than three thousand dollars.”

  My jaw hit my chest. “Wait. Net? You netted three grand?”

  Elise nodded.

  “You’re a sophomore in high school, and you have to pay income taxes for your self-made jewelry endeavor,” I reiterated, making sure I had all the facts straight. “And you don’t think this is a business?”

  “Well…” With her arms still crossed, she strode across the porch, spun around, and sat next to me.

  My stomach dipped, and I told myself it was from the sudden motion of the swing.

  “…I never really thought of it like that… until now.”

  The way her eyes met mine, a hint of gratitude shining in them, made my chest fill.

  “What do you call it?” I found myself asking.

  A little frown formed between her brows. “What do you mean?”

  “Your business. Do you have a name for it? Do you have a sign? Business cards?”

  Her dark
lashes beat over those mesmerizing eyes. “What would I put on a business card? I don’t even have a cell phone.”

  I tsked. “It’s almost 2009. You need a cellphone,” I scolded gently. “You also need a website.”

  Smothering a delighted laugh, Elise shook her head. She looked so happy, for a moment she seemed like a stranger. Or maybe I was the stranger. “I can’t afford all that.”

  I arched a brow at her. “If you’re netting thousands of dollars as a high school student. Not only can you afford them, you can’t afford to go without them.” As I gently lectured her, an idea took root. I was pursuing a degree in engineering and a minor in business. My goal was to someday run my own engineering firm. But I knew from my minor how important marketing was to the success of any business.

  I also knew how to put together a simple WordPress website. Maybe it was time to repay some of the debts I owed to Elise Cormier. After all, she’d saved my sister from a child predator. She’d cleaned blood of my shirt after my father hit me, and she’d hid both of us while Ava sobered up that night three years ago. If my father had caught us back then, we would have both paid a hefty price.

  And then there had been the times before I went to college when she’d stay at the kitchen table with her books out in front of her if our father came home from a bad day in court. He’d have Flora pour him a bourbon and water before she served dinner, and the four of us — Ava, Mom, he, and I — would eat at the dining table in a silence as taut as a tripwire

  The way my father had breathed through his nose on those nights, the urge to lash out so great he almost vibrated with it. But something about both Flora and Elise in the kitchen had kept him in check.

  Some of the time, anyway.

  As far as I was concerned, those rescues were worth a little web design and a new iPhone. The more I thought about it, the more I liked the idea. Christmas was still a week away. I had time to get the homepage of a website designed. And it was definitely enough time to pick up a cell phone. Surprising her, I realized, would be a lot of fun.

  But that could wait. It could wait for a time when she wasn’t sitting beside me. For once, not looking at me like I’d just drowned a bag of kittens.

  She watched me, her smile softening. “So, I guess it’s working,” she said, eyeing me carefully.

  “Working?” I frowned, thinking we were still talking about websites and cell phones.

  “Your… insurance,” she said, tilting her head toward the house. The set of her eyes hardened just a little, and I grasped her meaning. The gun. My threats to my father.

  “Oh. My insurance. Yes.” I dropped my voice and nodded. “It seems to be. It’s been quiet for a lot longer than I expected.”

  Honestly, if I’d thought it would have freed us, I would have threatened to kill him years ago.

  Elise’s eyes narrowed. “It seems weird, though.”

  I narrowed my eyes in response. “What do you mean?”

  She shifted in her seat, angling her knees more toward me and propping her elbow on the back of the swing we shared. Elise looked comfortable, but also intent. It was a look I appreciated.

  “I mean, I wouldn’t think it would be something someone could just turn off,” she said before catching her bottom lip between her teeth.

  I studied her, saying nothing for a long time. How much could those amber eyes see? How much had she noticed over the years? Probably everything. I’d made a huge mistake in underestimating her, taking her youth too seriously. Elise Cormier probably knew more about my family than I did.

  I drew in a long breath before blowing it out. “I think my father went about eighteen months before,” I told her. “It was when my mother was pregnant with Ava, and the nine or so months after she was born.”

  She blinked her eyes wide. “Do you remember that?”

  Closing my eyes, I tried to think back on that time. I had only been two when Ava was born. My father was always the shadow presence in our house, the one we weren’t to disturb. But the first time I remembered him hitting Mom, Ava had been just learning to crawl. She’d pulled herself up to standing by gripping the tablecloth, and she’d upset the jug of half-and-half, and cream had spilled on my father’s suit pants.

  I remembered a crack and my mother’s head sailing back before her body hit the floor beside me.

  I pulled away from the memory. “No,” I said. It was true. I didn’t remember the days when he hadn’t hit her. I’d only heard my mother swear on them. She’d always swear that he could change.

  “So, a year and a half? That’s the longest?”

  I let my eyes meet hers. I could see they were edged in worry. “Yes, but that was before he was properly motivated,” I stressed, letting her hear the edge in my voice. “Fear of a bullet in your face can help a man overcome his nasty habits.”

  Her nervous gaze moved between mine. “You sound kind of scary when you say things like that,” Elise said.

  Her voice had gone a little breathless, and I found I didn’t like it. I didn’t like her looking afraid of me. The thought made me frown. I halted the gently sway of the swing and searched her eyes. “You know I’m not like him, right?”

  I watched surprise skitter across her features. “Cole, I didn’t think that.” She shook her head with conviction. “I’d never think that.”

  It was the first indication that Elise Cormier might not actually imagine the worst of me. And, all of a sudden, her good opinion seemed as vital to me as breath.

  I swallowed an inhale at the thought, realizing that I’d always wanted her to think well of me. Even when I tried to hide who I was — who we were as a family — by acting like my shit didn’t stink. By looking down my nose at her.

  I exhaled the breath, and with it, I blew out that old need to pretend. Elise knew the worst things about me already. Maybe now I could show her the rest. It wasn’t much, and few others knew it existed, but I couldn’t help but want to add her to that number.

  Two mornings later — after staying up past one o’clock immersed in web design — I awoke to the sound of singing. Someone was singing Christmas carols — badly — beneath my window. I stretched my arms over my head and turned in bed to face the back yard, straining to listen harder.

  It wasn’t Ava. It wasn’t Flora. And it certainly wasn’t Mom. Which meant it could only be Elise.

  I threw the covers off and vaulted out of bed. At the window, I lifted a single wooden blind so I could peer out unnoticed. And there she was on the patio outside the guesthouse, not thirty feet away. Elise sat on her heels, newspaper carefully laid all around her, with a can of spray paint in one hand.

  And she was singing “Sleigh Ride.”

  “Our cheeks are nice and rosy and comfy cozy are we…” She shook the paint can, and I could hear the ball clack-a-clack with her movement. “We’re snuggled up together like two birds of a feather should be…”

  She wasn’t belting out the lyrics. She was actually singing pretty softly, but the way the sound must have bounced off the patio beneath her and up to my wall and windows created an accidental amphitheater. Faint and remote, I could hear a radio playing the Ronettes somewhere beyond her.

  “Let’s take the road before us and sing a chorus or two…” Elise uncapped the can and shook it once more before aiming it at a white object in front of her.

  I squinted to make it out, but then Elise leaned forward, testing the spray, and a bright red mist shot from the can, making it impossible for me to see what she was painting.

  She kept singing and spraying, and the need to figure out what she was up to — to get a closer look — overtook me. Besides, I wanted to give Elise her Christmas presents. I’d bought her an iPhone the day before, and her website for Elise Cormier Originals was now ready to go live.

  I jogged to my bathroom, splashed water on my face, and brushed my teeth. I ran my fingers through my short hair, trying, without much luck, to tame the bedhead spikes that had emerged during the night. The only thing that would
make my hair obey would be a shower, but I doubted I had time for that.

  Glancing at my bedside clock, I saw that it was a quarter after eight. I grabbed the box I’d wrapped the day before, opened my bedroom door, and stuck my head into the hall. The house was quiet. Likely my father had already left for work, and Ava was still asleep. On light feet, I sped down the stairs and peeked around the dining room door, expecting to find Mom at breakfast, but the table was empty and free of dishes. The kitchen was empty, too, so I walked to the back door and opened it as quietly as possible, tucking the present behind my back.

  Obviously, I’d missed the rest of “Sleigh Ride.”

  “There’s a tree in the Grand Hotel… one in the park as well…”

  I heard her off-key singing as I stepped onto the porch. I had to draw my lips in and hold them between my teeth to keep my smile under control. I didn’t want to smile. I wanted to laugh. Not at her, but because of her.

  Elise was dressed in pajama pants, fuzzy socks, slippers, jacket, scarf, and hat, bundled up like it was snowing when it couldn’t have been below forty degrees. And I now saw that she painted what looked like an old dresser drawer. The white was rapidly disappearing as she evenly sprayed. She didn’t even turn at my approach. She just kept singing and painting.

  She was beautiful.

  She always had been — even as a child. But the little girl was gone now.

  I stood and watched her for several seconds before I started to feel guilty. I didn’t want to scare her or creep her out, so I clearing my throat, I stepped forward.

  Elise jumped at my approach, and to my disappointment she stopped singing mid-verse. She lowered her paint can and stared up at me, those wide amber eyes looking doomed.

  I gave her the smile I’d been holding back. “Morning. What are you doing?”