Never Let You Go

by Erin Healy

  For the first time since Grant walked out, she considered whether her own wrongdoing was more offensive than Grant’s. So what if he had driven her to it? Was that a valid excuse anymore? Had it ever been?

  Lexi’s finger would not stop bleeding.

  The brisk clicking of high heels drew her attention from her cut. Alice was coming up the aisle, looking sharp in an aubergine pantsuit. Lexi stuck her finger back in her mouth.

  “Let me get you a Band-Aid for that.” Alice produced a travel-size first-aid kit she carried in her purse, then applied a bandage.

  “What are you doing here?” Lexi asked. “You promised me you’d stay with Molly today.”

  “I lasted twenty minutes. What fourth grader can stand to have Grandma sitting in the back of her classroom? I couldn’t torture her that way.”

  “Then go get her out of school. Take her home. I shouldn’t have sent her back this week anyway.”

  Alice put her hands on her hips. “You said yourself that school is the best place for her to be right now, with everything going on. I agree. It keeps her mind off—”

  “Please. Go get her.” The only decision Lexi had been able to make so far was that Molly should not be left alone, not even in a crowd of friends and teachers. The scrapes on Lexi’s face were too real, the cuts inside her mouth from the castor bean shells too raw. The attack on her might have been coincidental—when trouble rains, it might as well hail, her father used to say—but she wasn’t willing to believe it yet.

  “Lexi, we need to talk.”

  “Not here, Mom.”

  “There’s no better time.”

  “This afternoon.”

  “I want to talk to you about Molly. Not when you’re both home together.”

  Lexi grabbed two boxes of cereal and set them on the shelf. One tipped over and hit the floor. She sighed. “What do you want to talk about?”

  “She’s not herself.”

  “Of course she’s not. None of us is, not after a week like this.”

  “You need to let her see her dad.”

  Lexi averted her face by collecting the fallen carton. “And what will that help, Mom?”

  “You should give Grant a chance,” Alice said. “I’m not saying you should sign over custody to him, alright? I’m just saying see what happens. Molly doesn’t understand all your reasons, and she shouldn’t, but she needs to know you’re on her side.”

  “I am. There is no one more on Molly’s side than me.”

  “You’re not the only one.”

  Lexi took a breath and handed Alice a box of Chex, then pointed to the shelf.

  “Ward came to our house the other day because Grant owes him money,” Lexi said. “He wants it.”

  “Why’s he coming to you?”

  “Because Grant doesn’t have any money.”

  “Neither do you.”

  “But I have Molly.”

  Alice’s blush brightened as her cheeks paled. “You can’t be serious.”

  “No, Mom, I’m making up stories.”

  “He’s threatening Molly?”

  “Don’t ask me to explain it.”

  A woman with a baby girl sitting in the seat of the shopping cart stopped near them and picked up a happy yellow carton of Cheerios. Lexi put up two more packages of Chex. The woman rolled on. Alice lowered her voice.

  “How much money are we talking about?”

  “Twenty-five thousand.”

  “Gracious. I might be able to scrape that together.”

  Lexi cleared her throat, rushed with shame.

  “How soon could you get it?” She couldn’t look at her mother.

  “I don’t know. It’s inassets, not cash. A week or two?”

  “We need it Friday.”

  Alice placed her hand at her throat. “We’ll go to the police.”

  “I can’t. Not yet.”

  “For heaven’s sake, why not!”

  “For one, Ward doesn’t exist as far as the police are concerned. He’s a phantom dealer. He’s been dealing drugs for who knows how many years and he’s never been caught. Do you think it’s because no one’s tried to sell him out?”

  “For one?” Mom murmured, still holding her box of Chex.

  “He’s planted drugs around my apartment. If I rat on him, and if he’s found, he can say that nothing I claim is true, that I’m a fellow dealer with a grudge. In fact, they don’t even have to arrest Ward for him to start that rumor. That’d be easy enough for authorities to believe, don’t you think, considering my history with Grant?”

  Alice’s mouth went slack. “He seemed like such a nice man. Oh, honey, this is terrible.” She straightened her shoulders. “I’ll call my accountant. And we’ll find the drugs first. Tear the house apart if we have to.”

  “I spent all night last night looking.”

  “I know this man who has a dog—”

  “Mom . . .” Lexi touched Alice’s soft hand with her own callused fingers. “They’ll take Molly away from me. I’ll go to prison.”

  “You didn’t do anything.”

  “No, I didn’t, but proving it will be hard.”

  Over at the butcher counter, Lenny King belted out an announcement that pork shoulders were on sale for ninety-nine cents a pound.

  Alice raised her voice. “I said, you can run away.”

  A man passing by at the end of the aisle glanced their way. Lexi returned to stacking the shelves with refreshed speed.

  “This isn’t the place to have this conversation.”

  “It doesn’t sound like we can put it off, either. I have friends, Lexi. Ward will forget you. What’s twenty-five grand to a drug dealer, right?” Alice looked hopeful. “You have until Friday?”

  “Right.”

  “There, you have two days’ head start. On Friday—oh, the hearing is Friday, isn’t it? Well, you can miss that. I’ll understand. It’s crazy for you to stay for that now.”

  Lexi studied the full cartons cluttering the aisle.

  “I need to be there Friday,” she said.

  “I can be there for both of us.”

  “It won’t be enough.”

  “You are the most aggravating girl sometimes, Lexi. Out with it. Please, explain why you have to be there now after you told me you wouldn’t go.”

  There would be no more avoiding this. She tucked her hair behind her ear and brought her finger to her lips for a moment. Her heart was beating so fast.

  Her mother would hate her for this. Hate her. And then Lexi would have lost more than she could bear.

  Lexi’s voice shook. “Norman Von Ruden and I had an affair.” She cleared her throat. “Before Tara died.”

  Alice stared at Lexi for long seconds, burning a hole in Lexi’s heart. Then she looked at the box she held and placed it back in the case as if it were breakable.

  “I’m sorry,” Lexi said.

  Alice zipped up the pocket of her purse. “Molly doesn’t have to know.”

  Lexi shook her head. Her eyes burned, but she lifted them to her mother’s face. “You don’t understand, Mom. Tara tried to tell me what a mistake I was making. She tried to stop me. I wouldn’t listen. So she went to Norman—”

  “They met?”

  “That night, for the first time.”

  “Norman knew her?” Lexi let Alice add up the facts up without interrupting. Alice’s body stiffened, and Lexi thought she was restraining herself from screaming, or maybe from lunging. “Tara was there for you. She died for you.” She placed an unsteady hand on the purse strap over her shoulder.

  “You killed your sister.”

  A sob burst from Lexi’s throat. “No, Mom.” Norman killed my sister, she wanted to say. And if I don’t show up Friday, the last threads that are holding me to life as I know it will be cut with the sharpest of scissors.

  Her tears ran in tiny rivers and dampened her white shirt around the collar.

  Alice averted her eyes. She was gazing at boxes of wheat and rice and oats. Lexi c
ould hear her breathe.

  “I’m so sorry,” Lexi whispered. “Please forgive me. Please. I had no idea what he would do.” To her own ears she sounded like Grant. Her husband, the man she had loved. Her daughter’s father. “Please,” Lexi repeated, expecting Alice’s response to be no different than hers had been.

  “You don’t deserve Molly,” Alice said. Then she left.

  Tuesday night, after sending Grant on his merry way, Warden started heating up.

  It had been decades since he’d smoldered. That restraint had taken him some years to perfect. It was too easy to slip into fury at times like these, and fury never ended well. He considered what had happened to Craven. The incompetent frog shouldn’t have been so upset over something as insignificant as Ward’s bacteria. If he’d had more self-control, Mort Weatherby wouldn’t be unattended now.

  Warden himself, though, was too heated up to dress until late Wednesday morning, when he finally brought his temperature low enough that steam wouldn’t rise off his head when he stepped out into the cool mountain air.

  The reason for his rage? Revelation. Stinking, spiritual, humbling revelation, of the variety that turned lives around. The hundred-eighty-degree change. Grant Solomon and Lexi Grüggen had gotten far too much of it in the past three days.

  He decided to move up his timetable. Intervene himself, before his plan collapsed. The choice helped him to chill, and by the time he reached Molly’s school he was feeling almost cool again.

  It was recess, and there was Molly, so let down by her shortsighted parents that she was too glum for her friends to endure. They had left her on a bench against the wall where the playground fence met the red brick. He approached like a confident cat.

  “Healing up nicely,” he said.

  She jumped and grabbed the crutches leaning next to her, to prevent them from sliding to the ground.

  “You scared me,” she said.

  “What’s life without a few surprises?”

  Her smile was halfhearted. Which was all it ever should’ve been.

  “Brought you some good news,” he said.

  She turned her face up to him. Children, he’d found, were always so hungry for good news. Of any kind.

  “What?”

  “I found your dad.”

  Molly turned her whole body on the bench. She lifted her swaddled ankle onto the seat in front of her.

  “Where is he?”

  “Well, he’s working right now, but he gets a lunch break in a while and I thought we could meet up with him.”

  “Really?”

  “I told him what a good chef you’ve become. There really isn’t time to do any cooking today, but maybe you could plan a meal for him. For next time.”

  She chewed on her lower lip.

  “Here’s the best news of all: your mom said it was okay to visit him.”

  Still no smile.

  Warden sighed and pretended to be found out.

  “Can’t slip anything past you, can I, Molly girl? You shouldn’t have been born so smart.”

  He could paste a pained expression on his face as well as the next actor. “I’m sorry, sweetie. But I’m sure you understand what’s going on here.”

  Her eyes dropped. The kid was totally in the dark!

  “Your mom and that guy I first thought was your dad? What’s his name?”

  “Angelo.”

  “He’s kind of spooky, don’t you think? Anyway, sorry, don’t need to go there. But he and your mom . . .”

  Molly’s eyebrows came together, working on the puzzle pieces he’d set in front of her mind.

  “Your dad isn’t going to get to be part of your family again, Molly. And I think that’s a crying shame. If we do this right, though, maybe you and your dad can be friends anyway. Who needs old Angelo? Look.” He stuck a piece of paper between the fence pole and the rough bricks. “She wrote a note excusing you to come with me. Actually, I wrote it. Pretty good, you think?”

  Molly read the note, written on a sheet from a gas station notepad that Lexi kept by her phone. Warden had the foresight to tear off a few sheets when he last visited. The request was in Lexi’s hand. He’d practiced well.

  Come and get her, for starters. He spent quite a bit of time on that one.

  But this one said, Please excuse Molly at lunchtime today for a personal family matter. Our friend Warden Pavo will pick her up. Sincerely, Lexi Grüggen.

  “What about Grandma?” Molly asked.

  “Can’t come for lunch today, but she says you should have a good old time with Dad.”

  “Are you gonna eat with us too?”

  “Nope, I’m just your chauffeur. I’ll take you down to Riverbend and then get you home afterward. Your mom will want you there when she gets off work, you know.”

  Mom would be busy after work with other matters, which he’d set into motion in about an hour, when Molly was safe with him. Ha! Safe with him. One anonymous tip would be all it took to expose a hard-working single mom’s dual life. Warden clapped his hands together.

  “This’ll be fun, right?”

  Molly looked doubtful.

  “You shouldn’t worry about a thing, Molly-Wolly. Dads love their little girls to pieces, and you’ve grown up into the most beautiful girl in the world. There’s no way he won’t love you.”

  He was finally rewarded with the white teeth of her smile. Truth, after all, was the slickest axle grease a wheel of lies could spin on. And this one was rolling right along.

  { chapter 28 }

  Visions of fanged serpents striking at Grant’s eyes woke him. He hollered and slapped at them. The snakes morphed into lightning quick arms and fists. Triple H was pounding him into the mats.

  “Hey! Relax!” Triple H commanded.

  The voice belonged to Grant’s old friend Richard, from Terminal Island. Grant opened his eyes. The man’s blond pigtail dangled over one shoulder above Grant’s face.

  In the space of seconds, he crab-scrabbled out of Richard’s reach, aggravating his sprained wrist. His hands hit the hollow base of some flimsy metal steps. Where was Ward?

  Where was he?

  Home.

  These steps led to the aluminum door in the trailer Richard had rustled up for Grant when he landed the job at the Residence. There were a dozen decrepit trailers in this dusty park, and none of them had the shade of trees. Grant craned his neck to see around Richard’s bulk. The Datsun was there, two wheels on the asphalt strip and two in what was supposed to be a flowerbed. Nothing but weed-choked pavers. How did he get here?

  What was Richard doing here?

  Grant relaxed enough to sit. “You’re a long way from Los Angeles, Richard.”

  “Conference in Riverbend. Starts tonight. Remember? You and me were gonna have some lunch.”

  They were?

  “Sorry.”

  “Doesn’t matter.” Richard was squatting, his elbows resting on his knees. He pointed at Grant’s swollen face. “What have you been up to?”

  His encounter with Ward came back to him easily enough. Most of them, anyway.

  “I wish I could remember.” Grant ran a hand over his morning stubble.

  “That’s no good.”

  “It’s not what you think.”

  “No?”

  “I test every three weeks, Richard. I’ve been clean since before I got out. You can ask my PO.” He rolled his eyes. “And my mother-in-law.”

  The sun was high enough to make Grant squint. He slowly stood, then stomped into the trailer, skipping the bottom two steps. Richard followed him, holding up his hands.

  “I’m not here to keep you in line. Just a friend dropping in on a friend, okay?”

  Grant’s head was throbbing. His jaw and shoulder ached. His whole body ached. He stepped into his sorry excuse for a bathroom and knocked through the stuff on the counter until he located the bottle of aspirin. He took three without water, then braced his hands against the basin, looking in the mirror.

  His cheek was pur
ple and the size of a plum. There was dried blood on his lips. He grabbed a length of toilet paper and moistened it under the tap, then started dabbing at his face.

  Richard was leaning against the doorframe.

  “What demons you been fighting to work yourself up into this frenzy?” he asked.

  The word demons bridged some connection in Grant’s brain. He lowered the tissue and looked at Richard in the mirror.

  “What do you do when someone’s been lying about you?” Grant asked.

  “Depends on the lie. Most are best ignored. Truth speaks for itself in my experience. Who’s been telling lies about you?”

  “They’re not about me. Or maybe they are. I have no idea what he’s been telling her.”

  “You’re gonna have to bring me up to speed, friend.”

  “My former big man. He says my wife is dealing.”

  Richard nodded.

  “Said she had an affair too. A long time ago with a friend of ours. Someone who . . . forget it. It’s a long story. None of it’s true, though.”

  “And how did that get you a fat lip?”

  “Because his fight’s with me, not her. I tried to make him see that, but . . . it’s confusing. Why would he use an old gripe with me to go after her? Why not stick with the source?”

  “Especially when he can take you down so easy,” Richard mused.

  It wasn’t funny. “He’s got Molly in on this, Richard.”

  “Your little girl.”

  Grant threw the wet, blood-tinged toilet paper in the trash.

  “I’m sure I don’t know what’s going on, or what lies have to do with any of it, but the truth as I see it is that you’re still the husband. You’re still the daddy.”

  “What’s that got to do with anything?”

  “Well, if your wife is having to take on your old mistakes, you’d better remedy that.”

  “I told you, he won’t—”

  “Not him, her. What’s the lady’s name? Alexis?”