Surrendered

by Jennifer Sienes

  I stand at the front door of the O’Shay home like I own the joint and pay the pizza delivery kid. No smile. No thank you. And his response to my tip? A rude snort. I’ll remember that if he comes looking for a job. Sure as rain, he won’t last long at this one. Toeing the door closed, I carry the box to the kitchen, set it on the counter, and head downstairs. No way Katie’ll hear me if I call down. She’s got music, if you can call it that, drowning out any sign of life outside her room.

  “Hey, Katie.” I pound a fist on her door. “Dinner.”

  The door swings open and the noise gets louder. How does she stand this stuff? “I’m not hungry.” She’s got animosity coming off her in waves.

  I raise my voice. “I ordered a pizza.” I’m not above bribery. Anything to get her past this I hate adults phase.

  “We own an Italian restaurant, and you order pizza?” She rolls her eyes. “I’m definitely not hungry.”

  “Your loss. We don’t have anything quite like this on the menu. Besides, I can hear your stomach growling even over this.” I wave a hand toward her room. “What is this, anyway?”

  “Linkin Park. Great, isn’t it?” Her smirk dares me to complain.

  “Turn it down a notch or two. I’ll keep a couple pieces of pizza warm for you.”

  “Whatever.” And she flings the door closed.

  I take the steps two at a time and wince when the music gets louder. Collecting a plate and napkin, I flip the pizza box open and inhale the artistic tang of pepperoni, sausage, and marinara. A couple pieces on my plate, I settle in at the breakfast nook. The first bite is halfway to my mouth when Tess walks in from the dining room and drops her purse on the counter. She must’ve parked in the driveway and come in through the front.

  “Hey. Didn’t hear you come in.”

  “What…” She rubs her temples, like soothing a headache. “How can you hear anything with that racket? You do hear that, right?”

  “Loud and clear. But I’ve already grounded her, so there’s no leverage.”

  “Bet me.” She marches across the kitchen, and I lose her footsteps on the stairway. Five seconds later, the music stops, and she retraces her steps.

  I wipe my mouth. “How’d you do it?”

  “There are worse things than being grounded.” She crosses to the sink and washes her hands.

  “Like what?”

  Snatching up a dish towel, she turns, resting her backside against the sink. “Death.”

  I nod. “Didn’t try that one.”

  “It takes practice.”

  “You hungry?”

  “I could eat.”

  Wiping my fingers on the napkin, I stand. “There’s plenty. I thought I’d bribe Katie, but she’s too sophisticated for pizza.”

  Tess laughs. “If you want any leftovers, I suggest you hide it away in that miniature fridge of yours. Otherwise, she’ll be up here the minute you leave. And I guarantee you, there won’t even be crumbs left.” She gets a plate from the cabinet and meets me at the pizza.

  “Good to know.” Taking the plate, my fingers graze hers. My mouth goes dry, and my heart skips a beat. Or two.

  A quick glance at me, her mouth open slightly. Is it surprise I see or fear? “Um, I’ll just have one.”

  Taking a chance, I set the plate on the closed box. I cup her face in my hands and look my fill. Her eyes are an incredible green. Her lips, right there for the taking. I run my thumbs along her cheeks, soothe the warmth radiating from them, and lower my face until my lips graze hers.

  And for a moment, I hope.

  Her hands slide up my chest, but she steps away, breaking the connection. Eyes darting from mine, she lets out a sigh. “Maybe this isn’t… I mean…”

  I swallow—twice—and clear my throat. “No, I suppose not. Sorry.”

  “Don’t…” She touches her lips and turns away. “Don’t apologize. It’s fine. I guess I’m just not—”

  “You don’t have to explain.” I flip open the box and focus on the pizza. What was I thinking? We need to get back to normal. “I’m sure you’re starved.”

  She makes a strangled sound. A laugh? A cry?

  One slip and everything takes on some dual meaning. “For food.” I hold up the plate of pizza.

  She nods, her cheeks an attractive shade of pink. “Yes. Thanks.”

  I collect a fork and napkin and hand them to her, making sure our fingers don’t touch, then take her pizza to the table.

  Sitting across from me, she frowns. “You’ll never guess who I saw today.”

  Okay, that’s safe enough. “Not much into guessing games.”

  “Maris.”

  I shrug the tension from my shoulders. “What’s so unusual about that?”

  “She was in Sacramento.” She picks at a piece of pepperoni and watches me…for what? A reaction? “At a soup kitchen.”

  That’s unexpected. “Did you talk to her? What was she doing there?”

  She pops the pepperoni into her mouth and chews. “Volunteering. She’s been doing it for some time.”

  “Well, good for her. You never really know someone, do you?”

  She taps a finger on her plate. “It’s kind of a strange name.”

  “What is?”

  “The soup kitchen.” The way she says it, the way she watches me… like she’s laying a trap.

  “I’ll bite. What’s strange about it?”

  “The name. It’s called Two Sisters.” Her eyes pierce mine.

  Two sisters? How…

  It must be a coincidence. Or is it? “What’s so strange about that?”

  “So, you’ve never heard of it before?” Is that an accusation in her tone?

  “No. Why?”

  “You’ve never heard of Two Sisters before?”

  Whatever she thinks she knows, I know she’s playing me. Otherwise, she’d call me on it. “Why would you think I have?” I drop the rest of my pizza on the plate, my appetite gone.

  “Forget it.” She shoves her plate aside and rises, tears shimmering in her eyes. “You can’t go around trifling with people’s emotions, Jake.”

  “I’m not—”

  “I’ve told you everything, and still you keep secrets.” She throws her napkin at me. “Just remember I tried.” She storms out of the room as if she can’t escape me fast enough.

  Chapter 32

  Jake

  The restaurant is empty when I show up two hours before we open. But my office—or rather, Sean’s office—shows signs of life. A printed P & L, a stack of checks ready for my signature, and the next week’s schedule sit dutifully on the desk, awaiting my response. Julia’s struck again. Good to know someone’s on top of things.

  The chair groans when I sit, like it senses the warring in my brain. Too many secrets on too many levels. Will it ever end? Could be, after Tess’s subtle warning, that the matter’s out of my hands. Just remember I tried. What did she mean by that? Is it a threat? An apology? What?

  Nothing I can do about it now. What I can do is get these checks signed. I slide them toward me and flip through them. Electric bill, water bill, insurance… and on and on. We have to sell a lot of spaghetti to justify this kind of spending. If Katie thinks her future success is a slam-dunk, she’ll be in for a rude awakening. Maybe it’s time she sees the other side of business. If Maris…

  Speaking of whom…is that the back door?

  “Maris?”

  The door slams. “The one and only.”

  I step out of my office as she disappears into the kitchen. I start to call her, then change my mind. What I have to say may be better on her turf. Strolling down the hallway, I listen for clues to her mood. Classic rock goes on, but there’s an absence of the clanging of pots and pans. It could be worse.

  Maris is transferring ingredients from the fridge to the counter, her backside to me. Def Leopard fills the air.

  “You have a minute?” I shout over bass and lyrics as I move toward the receiver to lower the volume.

  Her
body jerks as if I startled her. She turns, a container of spinach in her hands. “You shouldn’t sneak up on people who have access to sharp knives.”

  “Kind of hard to hear me approach with the music blaring.”

  “Music makes me happy.”

  Too bad her face doesn’t show it.

  “Thought we should catch up on a few things.” Like if her working at the soup kitchen has anything to do with the money she took. Best to slip that one in down the road. “You have any issues we need to address?”

  “Yeah, as a matter of fact.” I left that one wide open. “Katie used to act as a sous chef on a more regular basis. I’d like to shift her schedule from waitressing to that. It’s too hit and miss.”

  Sounds reasonable.

  “Have you asked her about it?”

  She places a couple tomatoes on the chopping block and looks at me. “She says it’s up to Hitler.” Then she actually grins. “I think she means you.”

  I don’t see the humor, but if it puts Maris in a good mood… “She doesn’t take well to discipline.”

  “Maybe, but it’s good for her.” Was that a compliment?

  Since we’re on a roll. “How’s Tony working out? Any problems?”

  She shrugs. “Better since you and Tess stopped him from seeing Katie.”

  “Good.” It’s all I can think to say. It’s either that or who are you, and what have you done with my surly chef?

  “Anything else?”

  “Yeah. Tess told me—”

  The door to the alley entrance slams—a delivery?—and I turn to the kitchen entry as Justine appears. My heart skids. This can’t be good.

  “Oh good. I hoped I’d find you here.”

  Two quick strides and I’m across the room, taking her by the arm. I throw an “I’ll be back” over my shoulder to Maris before escorting Justine back into the alley.

  A week before the end of October, and Indian summer’s made a comeback. Better to talk outside than where big ears might overhear, even if the scenery isn’t pleasant. I haul her down the alley and into the restaurant parking lot, where her car’s parked next to mine.

  Out of earshot, I drop her arm. “What’re you doing here?”

  “It’s so good to see you, too.”

  “I thought we were going to communicate by phone.”

  Eyes wide, she leans close. “With all your cloak and dagger secrecy, I thought they might be bugged.” Bugged? She can’t be—a grin splits her face.

  “Funny.” I shake my head. “So, what? You were just in the neighborhood?”

  She glances around the lot, nose wrinkled. “Do you think we can go somewhere to talk? I’m starting to feel under appreciated.”

  “If you’d called, I could have met you somewhere.” I take the keys from my pocket and escort her to my car. “Better yet, we could have just talked on the phone. Saved you the drive.”

  “I don’t mind. Robert’s away on business, so it’s a nice distraction.” She slides into the passenger seat.

  I get behind the wheel and shift my body to face her. “What’s this about, Justine?”

  “Feed me and I’ll tell you.”

  It takes five minutes to drive to the Hangtown Cafe. Window rolled down, I let the breeze clear the cobwebs. My old life is another world, one I can’t see going back to. But I don’t fit in here, either. Not running a restaurant, anyway.

  The cafe has only a few patrons—too late for lunch, too early for dinner—so we have our choice of tables. I walk Justine to a corner booth and sit across from her.

  “Good afternoon, Jake. We haven’t seen you here for a while.” Eileen slides a couple glasses of water onto the table and hands us each a menu. “I’ll give you two a couple minutes.”

  Justine folds her hands. “Is this the local hangout?”

  “Spill it. Why’d you come?”

  “Jake?” Kent steps up to the table, hand out.

  Shaking his hand, I grin. “You live here or what?”

  “It seems like it sometimes. How’re you doing?” He glances at Justine, eyebrows raised, head tilted.

  “Doing good. This is Justine.” Probably won’t suffice. “My sister.” I look at her. “This is Pastor Kent.”

  Kent hesitates for a split second. Long enough to know he’ll have some questions for me. “Nice to meet you, Justine. I didn’t even know Jake had a sister.”

  “I guess we’re even then.” She laughs. “I didn’t know he had a pastor.”

  Kent chuckles. “Well, I’ll leave you two alone. See you on Sunday, Jake.”

  “Yeah. See you.”

  “Well?” Elbow on the table, she rests her chin in her hand. “You’ve changed.”

  “Why do you say that? Because I know a pastor?”

  “Mom used to have to drag you to church kicking and screaming. You’d say Christmas and Easter were sacrifice enough. What happened?”

  “Sean O’Shay.” The short version, but all I have time for. “No more stalling. Why’re you here?”

  She sighs. “Connor called.”

  “What now?”

  “Someone’s been snooping around the hospital, asking a lot of questions.”

  “About me?”

  She nods. “He said it’s a private investigator.”

  Who would sic…? Tess. Just remember I tried.

  “What’s going on, Jake? Are you in some kind of trouble?”

  * * *

  Tess

  Sometimes I feel as if I’m a child playing the part of an adult. Jake’s kiss, which was tame in comparison to any other thirty-something American woman’s sexual experience, has me as moony-eyed as a twelve-year-old. And the fact that he won’t tell me the truth about his nefarious schemes doesn’t change that. I don’t want to be afraid of him—of how he makes me feel. It’s time I start living as an adult, with all the responsibilities that entails.

  After our Foundations class, I wait for Stephanie at the bottom of the steps near the entrance to Eureka Hall. Although she’s not as skittish around me these days, I don’t want to lose her in the stairway rush.

  As she comes down the stairs, I know the moment she spots me. She comes to a momentary halt, long enough to trip up the young man following close behind, and when she continues, her steps are slower.

  Merging in with the other students, I come alongside her. “We need to talk.”

  “Do you need my notes again?” Is that sarcasm I hear in her tone?

  “Give me five minutes.”

  She opens her mouth then closes it and nods. “Okay.”

  We step outside, where the late October weather feels more like spring. “Can I buy you a cup of coffee or a soda?”

  “Five minutes, Tess.” She readjusts her backpack on one shoulder. “I have to be somewhere.”

  “Then let me walk you to your car.”

  “That’s…fine.”

  We pass a crowd of students and walk the west path toward one of many parking lots. Her steps are hurried. If she thinks she can escape me, she’s mistaken.

  “You can’t run from it, Stephanie.” Too bold?

  Brushing at her bangs, she glances at me with wounded eyes. “I’m not running. I just don’t see the point.” Her eyes dart around as if checking for ghosts or the boogie man.

  “Yeah, well, neither did I ten years ago. But here I am, still struggling with what he did to me. And part of it, I allowed.”

  Two guys walk toward us, laughing. One brushes Stephanie as he passes, and she curls into herself, head down. There it is again—proof.

  Placing a gentle hand on her arm, I stop her. “Let’s sit.” I motion to a bench.

  “No. I already told you—”

  “He did it to you, too, didn’t he?”

  She turns tear-filled eyes on me. “I never said he did anything. You’re making assumptions—”

  “Am I?” I lead her to the bench and we sit. “You don’t think I recognize your reaction when that guy brushed against you?”

  Sh
e wipes trembling fingers under her eyes.

  I take a small packet of tissues from my purse and hand it to her, my own fingers unsteady. “When he…attacked me, I blamed myself. For the longest time, I believed it was my fault. I must have led him on, or I was too trusting.”

  She blows her nose and wads the tissue in her hand.

  “It was near the end of the school year, so when my mom got sick with cancer, I let everyone believe I was quitting school to nurse her. And I did. But that wasn’t the whole truth, and I was too ashamed to tell anyone.”

  “Not even your mom?”

  I shake my head. “No one. When she died a couple years later, I made myself believe that not going back was for the best. My family owns a restaurant, so it was easy to hide away there where I felt safe.”

  She clears her throat. “So why now? I mean, it’s been a long time.”

  A lifetime ago. “I thought I could put it in the past.” I pick at a jagged cuticle and a spot of blood seeps. My nose burns with tears, but not from a paltry sting. It’s nothing compared to the hurt that monster inflicted on me. Inflicted on others, obviously. “Had he not been here… In fact, I checked the staff list to be sure he was gone. Imagine my surprise when I saw him on campus. With you.”

  “He’s just filling in just this semester.” She shakes her head. “If you’d waited until spring…”

  “My dad would say there are no coincidences.” And he’d be right.

  She crosses her arms, head hanging. “It’s my word against his, you know. There’s no proof. Not anymore.”

  I dip my head to catch her eye. “I’m proof. He did the same thing to me. And had I said something…” My voice cracks. Dear God, what have I done?

  Her head snaps up. “Ten years ago, Tess. If I go to the police with just us…there’s no way he’ll be convicted, and then I hurt my parents and my boyfriend for nothing.”

  Why is it we take on the guilt and shame and couch it in secrecy? “Do they know?”

  “No.” She swipes at her eyes with the crumpled tissue. “Stephen… Professor Fields, he told me no one would believe me.”

  “Yeah, well, that’s what he told me, too. But the truth is, my parents would have. I was too ashamed to tell them.”