A Little Help From My Friends (Miracle Girls Book 3)

by Anne Dayton

  Riley hands her a tissue from her bedside table. It’s printed with surfboards. This whole house looks like a staged model home.

  Ana comes over to the bed. “You okay?”

  Ashley sits up, blots her eyes, and smiles warily. “Yeah, thanks.”

  Ana nods slowly and waits for a moment. “So how hard did she shake you? And how on earth did your dad find out?”

  “I didn’t know he was suing her. I should have known he would take care of it his own way.” She drags the tissue across her eyes, smearing her mascara. Ashley takes a deep breath and sighs. “So he was all upset about what she said, and he asked if she’d ever touched me and I said, ‘No, not really.’ ”

  “Uh-oh.” Christine sits up.

  “Exactly.” Ashley points at her. “He kept asking me questions and sort of putting ideas into my head, and then he made it known what he wanted me to say.”

  Riley shakes her head. “I’m so sorry, Ash.”

  I glance at Riley. It’s jarring to hear her use this nickname so comfortably. She’s been Ashley Anderson, Satan in cashmere, since high school started. Ash. That one little syllable betrays so much history.

  Ana squeezes onto the end of the bed. “Okay, shake my shoulder as hard as she shook your shoulder.” She leans forward so Ashley can grab it.

  Ashley gently cups her shoulder and gives it a quick shake.

  “That’s it?” Christine pops to her feet. “This should be a snap to disprove. All you have to do is take the stand during your dad’s trial and show everyone what really happened.”

  “Oh no. I’m not doing that.” Ashley grabs her head with her hand. “My dad will kill me.”

  Ana and Christine exchange a worried look.

  I bite my lip. “You have to. We’d be right there with you. We could help you through it.”

  “He’s my dad. I can’t. He’ll . . . hate me forever. I came to you guys because I need to figure out another way to fix this. Without him knowing it was me.” Her eyes well up with tears, and her lip quivers.

  “And we won’t let you down.” Riley shrugs at the rest of us. “We’ll find another way. We’ll move mountains or make miracles happen . . . or something.”

  28

  I’m getting ready to go last-ditch Christmas Eve shopping with Ana when the doorbell rings. My heart skips around in my chest. I had a feeling he’d pick today to come back. I knew Ed couldn’t stay away on Christmas. He’s sick of living in that rat-hole apartment he rented, and he’s coming to make a grand romantic gesture to win Dreamy back. They’re strolling off into the sunset in my imagination when I pad down the stairs and run to the door, yanking it open. Only it’s not Ed.

  “Hello?” The gray blanket of fog refracts the sunlight, and I blink. The girl on the doorstep is thin and short, and her dark brown hair is pulled back in a neat ponytail. She’s wearing tight jeans and cowboy boots, and a sheepskin coat much too heavy for winter in Half Moon Bay.

  “Hi.” She smiles sheepishly and slips her hands into the pocket of her coat. “Does Nick Fairchild live here?”

  “Yeah.” She’s pretty, in a kind of tomboyish way. I open the door wider and spot a blue pickup truck in the driveway. “But he’s not here right now.” Nick has been going out at weird times recently. Two days ago he was even wearing business clothes and a tie. Right now he’s out buying cinnamon for Dreamy.

  “Oh.” Her face flushes. “Well . . .” She kicks at the wooden porch a bit. “Do you know when he’ll be back?”

  “Soon.” I step back and examine her. She doesn’t look like a serial killer or anything. “Do you want to come in and wait?”

  “I’m Heather.” She holds out her hand.

  “I’m—”

  “Zoe, right?” She smiles at the confusion that must be apparent on my face. “Nick talked about you a lot.” I stare at her some more. “I used to work with Nick,” she adds quickly. “In Colorado. We worked together at the ranch . . . ?”

  “Oh right.” I usher her inside and close the door to block out the cool, moist air. Nick’s mysterious phone call comes back to me. Heather was his boss. Though somehow that doesn’t really make it any clearer what she’s doing on our doorstep on Christmas Eve. “He’s talked a lot about you too,” I say, even though he hasn’t ever told me anything about her. It just seems like the thing to say.

  She sits on the edge of the couch and stares at the domed ceiling above in wonder.

  “Was Nick . . . ” How do I ask this nicely? “Did he know you were coming?”

  “No.” She clutches her hands in front of her. “He didn’t. It was . . . it was probably stupid anyway, but I just . . . I don’t know. I wanted to say Merry Christmas I guess.”

  It’s the flush in her cheeks that makes the pieces fall into place. The messy breakup. His abrupt departure from the ranch. The weird phone call from his old boss. The fact that she apparently just drove out from Colorado to wish him a Merry Christmas.

  “I’m sure he’ll be glad to see you,” I lie. He’s just starting to pick up the pieces of his life again. Maybe this wasn’t the best idea. “Can I get you something to drink or anything? We have water, and some seltzer I think, and some weird sugar-free lemonade thing.”

  “Would you mind? Seltzer would be awesome.”

  I nod, then walk into the kitchen. Dreamy’s hunched over a patch of ground she planted in the fall, but her back is to me. I pull a glass off the shelf and fill it with ice, then crack open a bottle of seltzer and pour some into the glass.

  The front door slams. Heavy footsteps sound across the floor. I snap out of it and walk out of the kitchen. I should warn Nick that he has a visitor before he does something totally embarrassing. “Nick, I—”

  It’s too late. He’s clutching a small plastic grocery bag, staring at Heather. She gives a slight wave from the couch but lowers her hand when he doesn’t respond. His jaw clenches.

  “Heather.” He tosses the bag onto the side table and lets out a long breath.

  “Hi.” She no longer looks sheepish.

  Nick glances at me, and I look away as if maybe I don’t even know they’re there. He clears his throat.

  “Let’s go for a walk,” Nick says, so low I almost don’t hear him. Heather nods and stands, smoothes down her pants, and follows him out the front door.

  I stare at the closed door long after they’re gone.

  What Heather did is crazy. There’s no doubt about that. I don’t know if it’s going to work out with her and Nick, or if he even wants it to. But she did it, and that means something.

  29

  “Eight maids a milking, seven swans a swimming,” Dreamy sings from the kitchen.

  I press my eyes shut and pray for strength. We’re all dealing with the fact that Ed isn’t here in our own way, and I suppose I need to respect her method, annoying though it may be. I glance at the clock. It’s three o’clock, and he hasn’t even called to wish me a Merry Christmas. Ed’s spending the day in San Mateo with Uncle Hugh and Aunt Sarah.

  “FIVE GOLDEN RIIIIIIIINGS!” I turn up the volume on the TV. I’m watching It’s a Wonderful Life. I’m not sure how I never noticed it before, but this is one dark movie. Sure, in A Christmas Story they chop the head off that goose at the Chinese restaurant, but that’s a cakewalk compared to the suicide attempts and near financial ruin in this little doozie.

  Dreamy is suddenly hovering over me.

  “You know what I think would be nice?” She smiles too much. I can nearly see her silver fillings.

  “Why don’t you and Nick play that board game you used to love?” As if on cue, we hear footsteps padding down the spiral staircase. “Remember that, Nick?” she says, raising her voice. “What was it called?”

  “Well,” I roll over onto my back and try to muster a smile. “I think I’m going to finish my movie.”

  “What was that game called?” She picks a piece of lint off Nick’s old sweater when he stops in front of her.

  “I don’t know . . .”
He scratches his stubble and smiles. Though she left as quickly as she appeared, there’s been something different about him since Heather’s visit.

  “Chutes and Ladders!” Dreamy pats him twice on the arm. “You should play that.”

  Nick raises an eyebrow at me, and I flare my nostrils ever so slightly. Chutes and Ladders? Is she serious? I haven’t played that game in ten years.

  “Maybe later.” He walks over to the couch, and before I know it, he’s reaching for me. “For now I need Zoe’s help.” I point the remote at the TV and start raising the volume, but he takes it out of my hand and clicks it off.

  “You in?” Nick walks to the back door, and I nod.

  I follow Nick wordlessly outside and to the stables. I knew this was what he meant when he said he needed help, but anything is better than hanging out in that stupid bubble, watching my mom pretend that everything is fine.

  But Nick’s steps slow down as the stable comes in sight.

  “Hey,” I say, catching up to him. “I thought I was the one afraid of horses.”

  “Zoe, I—” He stares straight ahead and sighs. He starts to say something and then stops himself. “I have something to show you.”

  His tone makes me uneasy, and we walk quickly the rest of the way in silence. Once we arrive, he pushes the door open and hesitates. “I don’t know if you’ll even care. But I wanted you to know.”

  I peer into the stable and take a few steps into the weak light. Same poop smell, same caving roof, same lack of Ed . . . everything seems to be the same.

  “Dreamy sold Dox.”

  I freeze, a trapezoid of light glinting on the hay around me. My heart beats faster.

  “She did what?”

  It’s not like I loved that horse. Well, maybe I did, a little, because of what he meant to Ed. But mostly this means things are still bad, worse than I thought. I’ve started chipping in for groceries, and I buy all my own clothes and school lunches, but I guess it’s not enough if she’s still selling off horses. Maybe I need to cut back more. I’ve been saving, hoping to eventually get enough for a car, but I can stop that. Maybe I should get rid of my phone, though the thought of giving up my lifeline to the world outside these woods is horrible.

  “She did it a few days ago. I wasn’t sure if you’d been out here since then.” Nick shuffles behind me, making a rustling sound on the hay. I hear a jingly noise, but I ignore it. “Or if she tells you stuff like that because you don’t like the horses . . . or whatever.”

  I listen but don’t turn as Nick gets one of the horses out its stall. They walk up behind me slowly, as if not to scare me. Horses have very distinct breathing, lots of contented sighs and rolling the bit around in their mouths. Nick puts something in my hand, and even in my numb state I know what it is. A lead rope. I hold it and don’t move. I can feel Alfalfa’s familiar presence behind me, but I’m paralyzed with fear.

  Even though the accident was two and a half years ago, it feels like it happened yesterday. I remember holding on as Alfalfa reared up, and the breathless feeling of falling. I can still see the world rushing by, my foot stuck in the stirrup, the twigs tearing my skin, my head bumping on roots and rocks. I remember very clearly the feeling of facing down death.

  Nick gets Old Gray Mare bridled and set up with her own lead rope. He walks up next to me, and she obediently follows him.

  “C’mon, kiddo,” Nick whispers into the silence of the barn. “Let’s go for walk. No riding. Just leading.”

  I notice that I’ve been standing in this small square of light so long that my left shoe is now in the shadow.

  “A walk in the woods. No big deal.” Old Gray Mare breathes out in a tired, happy way. She really is a sweet old girl, a nice calm horse. Ed always said the others looked up to her.

  I raise my face and study Nick in the shadows. In my mind my brother was always larger than life. These past few months I’ve seen a different side of him, that of a flawed, hurting human. I nod, slowly.

  Nick starts walking to the door. Halfway there, he stops and looks back to see if I’m following. I stare at my feet, unsure of what they will do, but they move a few steps, slowly, and then the steps come easier. Alfalfa falters for a moment behind me and then falls into rhythm with my gait. We walk in step, in time, together.

  For a while we stroll through the woods in silence, and maybe it’s because of how far from the modern world we seem, or because of the chill in the air, or what a cruel holiday it’s been, but my thoughts go to a different place, another time. I try to put myself in the shoes of two everyday people, walking to a town far from home to be counted for a census. I think of a woman—no, a girl. Maybe my very age, being forced to grow up and face the challenges God has put in her path. They said she rode a donkey because she was very pregnant, but she must have led it sometimes too, to stretch her legs. Did she ever wish things could go back to how they used to be? Did she ever wonder if God really knew what he was up to when he chose her? What if she failed and everything fell apart?

  Eventually we reach the clearing, where the horses used to love to stop. They would drink from the brook that fed the pond about a half a mile from here. But today there’s no brook, and the grass is brown. Nick drops Old Gray Mare’s lead, and she begins to pick over the brambles and dried-up weeds. I drop Alfalfa’s lead and steel my nerves as he passes very close to me and joins Old Gray Mare.

  “You did it.” Nicks eyes dance in the fading afternoon light.

  I nod. I guess I did do it. Nick sort of tricked me. He distracted me and didn’t give me any time to overanalyze it. But I don’t feel like talking about the horses right now. I can’t put it into words yet.

  “Why did Heather come here?” I say suddenly.

  Nick sighs deeply and lowers himself down on the grass. He folds his hands behind his head, shuts his eyes, and smiles. “I’m not quite sure.”

  “What did you guys talk about?” I plop down next to him but keep the horses in my sight. They seemed content over there, picking through the field for something to eat, but you never know.

  He shakes his head. “Everything . . . nothing. All that stuff.” Nick pulls a long brown weed from the soil and holds it up to his face. He tosses it and sits up. “Can you keep a secret?”

  My heart races. Nick and I have never really had secrets. “Of course.” He watches me, and I smile to encourage him.

  “I left Colorado because I asked Heather to marry me and she said no.”

  My eyes go wide, and Nick laughs at me.

  “It’s okay.” He flops back down and shuts his eyes again. “When she said no, I was devastated. I hopped the first ride I could find back home and called Dreamy and Ed from the road.” He drops his head to the side and squints at me. “I just needed to get away. But seeing her again made me realize that she was right to say no. Granted, now she’s changed her mind. She wanted to start things up again, but we have no business being together. And well, once I saw how bad things had gotten here . . .”

  The horses seem to neigh in agreement across the clearing. The sun glints off Alfalfa’s shiny brown coat and highlights his goofy white spots.

  “So, you did love her but now you don’t?” How could you propose to someone and then realize it was all a big mistake?

  “I did love her.” Nick plucks another long weed and puts it in his mouth. “But it wouldn’t have worked. She wasn’t ready then, and I’m not now. I couldn’t leave home, not with the way things are here. You have to be in the same place at the same time to really hold onto each other.” He chews on the end of the weed. “Sometimes love isn’t enough.” He shuts his eyes and leans back and smiles up at the big gray sky.

  30

  I see a figure forming in the darkness, and even though I know who it is, my heart beats faster.

  “Well,” I say, trying to wrap things up with Ed. I took the call on the back deck because I didn’t want to censor what I said for Dreamy. I don’t have to pretend it was a happy Christmas if I don’t wan
t to. “I hate to talk and run but . . .”

  Marcus slowly comes into focus in the shadows beyond the deck.

  “Merry Christmas, little girl.” I can hear in Ed’s voice that he doesn’t want me to go either, which is a small consolation.

  My eyes water for a moment, but I choke back the tears. “Merry Christmas, Ed. Come home soon.” By the time I click my call off, Marcus is sitting in front of me, but I can’t bring myself to look him in the face.

  “Here,” he says quietly. He hands me a small square package, wrapped in bright green paper with smiling reindeer on it.

  I grip it to my chest and try to figure out how to tell him. I just need more time. I guess all this stuff with Dreamy and Ed has me really messed up. I really did try to find a gift for Marcus, but Christmas shopping has been close to impossible, and nothing jumped out at me. Plus with money being so tight . . .

  “Should I open it?” I blush for being such a coward. Why can’t I admit that I simply don’t have a present for him? He’ll understand. He always understands.

  Marcus’s eyes are hard and cold. “I saw him.”

  “What?” My voice is louder than I mean it to be. I try to cover it up by laughing a little. “Saw who? Ed?”

  “No, him.” He shakes his head slowly. “Dean.”

  My palms begin to sweat. I probably wouldn’t feel that bad if Dean had only walked me home that one time, but it’s happened a few times now, so I’m not sure which time Marcus is even referring to.

  Really, it’s not my fault. I can’t make him not come to El Bueno Burrito. It’s a public place. Dean shows up at closing and escorts me home. It’s just a friendly thing. Besides, all we do is talk. We talk about Grace, his rocker girlfriend, and about Marcus, and New York, music, everything.

  “Yeah. Dean is my friend. I’m allowed to have friends, right?”

  Even though Dean has a car, we always walk for some reason. I don’t know why, but neither one of us has ever mentioned him driving me home. There’s something about the walking part that feels right.