Turning, I followed Allia up the walk.
It wasn’t until the door closed behind me in that wonderful, roast-smelling house that I began to worry why my mother had chosen now to search for my father. I wondered if she’d searched for James’s dad, too.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Dante
Becca was looking out the window as Allia and Kyle ran up to the walk. “Looks like Rikki is letting Kyle go to Young Women’s.”
I couldn’t tell if that was approval or disapproval in Becca’s voice. In fact, I didn’t know if I thought Kyle should be allowed to go anywhere except to her room. On the one hand, a church activity should be a good influence, something Kyle decidedly lacked, but on the other it would be fun—and after what she’d done today, she should receive some punishment. As a father, I wouldn’t let my child out of his or her room if I’d had to pick them up at the police station, but as a bishop, I wanted Kyle at the activity.
The girls breezed past us with hardly a look. “This won’t take long,” Allia was saying, “but we have to hurry. I have a shirt you can borrow, if you want. It’d look good with those pants.”
So they were exchanging clothes now? I lifted an eyebrow, and Becca gave me a wry smile. “Allia’s conscious about the tightness,” she said in a low voice. “They’ve been hitting modesty issues pretty hard in church lately. Remember what the stake president said last month?”
I nodded, remembering it well. In a mother-daughter fireside, he’d complimented the women and girls for trying to maintain modesty, but he’d ended with the plea for everyone to “loosen up.” Allia had taken that to heart and had begun wearing the snugger tops only under looser ones. Her pants, however, were one area I felt we could work on in that respect. Allia was definitely getting some curves, which fact made me vaguely uncomfortable. I still saw her as somewhere near Lauren’s age.
“You left work early,” Becca said as we moved to the kitchen to see what the kids might have left us in terms of food.
“What else could I do?” I took down two plates from the cupboard as Becca uncovered the roast.
“You could have sent one of your counselors. If Kyle’s here for the long haul, they’ll need to develop a relationship with her as well.”
“I promised her a couple Sundays ago that I’d be there for her.”
“Are you sure you didn’t go because you see Rikki in her?”
Where’d that come from? “I’d go if it was any of our youth, you know that.” I did see Rikki in Kyle, and I felt the need to protect her, but what I’d said was true as well. My youth, my responsibility.
She sighed. “Of course you would. It’s just, well, something Rikki said when she first got here has been bothering me—that she sometimes leaves her kids to go somewhere on her own. What if that’s what she plans on doing here? Something’s odd about her coming back right now and suddenly showing up at church when those children have barely heard of the Bible and don’t know what Mormons even are. What if she’s planning to take off to, say, Monte Carlo or Japan or somewhere and can’t take the children? Maybe she isn’t looking for religion so much as a place to dump her kids.”
“I don’t see how we can stop her, if she leaves them with someone responsible. She’d even have a few willing volunteers here.”
“At least for James, and as long as she came back.” Becca put several slices of roast on my plate as she spoke.
“I know Rikki, or at least I knew her, and she loves those kids. That’s not fake. As for the religion part, you know how the Lord works. Something may have happened in Rikki’s life to bring her here, but maybe it’s a good thing, not a negative one.”
She sighed. “You’re right. And you were right to send me to the police station tonight. I found out why Kyle took those things. Or at least the reason she gave me.”
As we ate, Becca explained about dance classes and Kyle’s dream, keeping a sharp eye out for any small, listening ears. There was an understanding of Kyle’s longing in her voice that I hadn’t expected. Unlike Kyle and Rikki, Becca had taken advantage of every opportunity while growing up, from singing and piano lessons to volleyball and soccer. Her many abilities and talents still floored me, though she’d never been inclined to pursue any of her talents on a professional level, which was fine by me. She’d mentioned finishing her teaching degree in the future, but since she planned to remain home with the children, it hadn’t been a priority to either of us.
“I’m going to call the school and find out the address of those classes,” Becca said. “I want to be sure this isn’t a story she’s feeding us.”
“That’s a distinct possibility.”
“My gut tells me it’s true.” She moved her food around on her plate. “So, did leaving early today mean you can’t leave early on Friday?”
“Why would I leave—?” Oh, Friday, the day we were leaving for Saint George. How had I forgotten? I’d even reserved both Friday and Saturday nights at the hotel. We’d be back before church, but I’d told my counselors I was going to miss our morning meetings. “No, not at all. I’ll go in a little early tomorrow. Stay a little late.” There was gratitude in her eyes, which made me feel uncomfortable instead of pleased. I leaned over to kiss her.
“Gross.” Travis emerged from the basement stairs, carrying a stack of dishes. Lauren and Cory were close behind, also carrying dishes.
“Were you eating downstairs again?” Becca said. “Just because I’m gone doesn’t mean you don’t eat dinner at the table.”
Travis put the dishes in the dishwasher. “Uh, I was doing a project on the computer. I put a sheet out for the kids.”
“Don’t eat anywhere but in the kitchen,” I said.
Cory frowned. “You guys do.” Same old argument.
“That’s because I own the house. I can eat wherever I please.” I picked up my own plate and went to rinse it in the sink before placing it in the dishwasher. “When you own a house, you can eat wherever you want. Don’t do it again.”
“Okay, Dad. We won’t,” Travis said.
The children usually followed the rule, but every now and then, if we didn’t remind them, they grew lax. Playing stern usually got them back on the right track, and a little object lesson couldn’t hurt.
Before I could open my mouth, Cory said in a bored tone, “I know, I know. We remind you of the Nephites in the Book of Mormon, who always needed a reminder to obey the commandments.”
Becca threw me an amused look.
“That’s right,” I said. “Travis, it’s almost time for Young Men. Aren’t you guys doing a service project for the Sagers?”
Travis nodded. “Cleaning up their backyard. I’ll finish up on the computer and go over. Can I take the clippers?”
“Sure. But this time remember to bring them home, okay?”
“Right. I’ll do that.”
Allia and Kyle rushed into the kitchen. “We’re going to be late, I think,” Allia said. “Can someone take us?”
Kyle’s eyes went to the rest of the roast on the stove, which was probably a good thing because I did a double-take at her appearance. Her makeup, if she was wearing any, was tasteful, and wearing Allia’s shirt, she looked like a girl even Becca wouldn’t mind Allia hanging out with.
Travis was also staring, a puzzled expression on his face.
Kyle dragged her eyes away from the food. “Hi,” she said to Travis.
“You look different.”
Kyle smiled. “Thanks. I think.”
“She looks great, doesn’t she?” Allia said.
Cory leaned in. “Yeah, no more raccoon face. I don’t know what girls see in that crap.”
“Cory, we don’t say crap!” Becca said.
“You just did!”
Becca frowned. “One more word, and you’ll be grounded tomorrow
.”
“Can someone take us?” Allia repeated, bouncing from foot to foot.
“I will,” I volunteered. “I have to go to the church for interviews tonight anyway. I’ll drop you on my way.”
“Not before Kyle has something to eat.” Becca was already putting food on a plate. How she could have seen Kyle’s longing and acted on it while correcting Cory, I’ll never know.
“We’re going to have chili there,” Allia said.
“It’s not finished yet, and Kyle’s had a long day.” Becca handed Kyle the plate.
“Can she eat in the car?” Allia asked.
“I can,” Kyle said. “If you don’t mind.”
“I don’t. Come on.” I grabbed my keys.
“Okay, so how come she doesn’t have to eat in the kitchen?” Cory grumbled.
Travis slapped him on the back of the head. “Because she’s a guest. Duh!”
Cory hit him back and darted down the stairs, with Travis close behind. Lauren rolled her eyes. “Boys,” she said in a decidedly adult voice tinged with long-suffering. “I’d better keep an eye on them so they don’t kill each other.”
I could barely stop from grinning as I grabbed my suit jacket from the closet and hurried to the door. If the Lord blessed me any more, I might feel guilty. “See you later, honey,” I called over my shoulder to Becca.
“What about a tie?”
“I keep a few in my desk at the church.”
“Okay.” Her voice was distracted, and I stopped to see why. She stood at the counter, looking at a sheet torn from a magazine, folded enough times that the edges were beginning to show wear. A picture of a garden filled the back.
Rikki had certainly known what she was talking about.
The girls were silent as I drove to the Flemmings’, Kyle gulping her food in the backseat and Allia staring out the passenger side window in the front. Memories assailed me as I pulled up at the house. Joel Flemming had been first the Young Men’s leader and then the second counselor in the bishopric for much of my youth. All the young men had spent many hours with him at his house and at other activities. I’d often secretly wished he was my father. He’d also taken the place of Rikki’s father on Young Women daddy-daughter activities, and I’d been as grateful for her sake as for my own. How ironic to be dropping Rikki’s daughter off here now.
“Have fun, girls,” I said.
Allia leaned over and gave me a kiss on the cheek. “We will.”
Kyle set her empty plate on the backseat. “Thanks.” She hesitated as though wanting to say more, but then slammed the door and hurried after Allia. Running up the sidewalk, Kyle looked more like Rikki than ever. Or like the Rikki I’d known.
What had Rikki’s life been like all these years? I hoped she’d found some happiness along the way.
I felt restless. Strangely, a part of me wanted to go over to Rikki’s to make sure she was okay, but we were adults now, and she’d learned to take care of herself. Besides, I had to get to the church to be on time for my first interview. After that, I’d go straight home to Becca and the kids. That was where I really wanted—and needed—to be.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Kyle
I was grounded, of course, but I still went to watch the private dance classes on Wednesday. No way was I going to miss them, and since we didn’t have a phone at home, it wasn’t like Mom could check up on me. James wouldn’t say anything, because I’d promised him a package of licorice from my stash and let him play in the backyard at the house where the lessons were held. No one seemed to care that I was bringing him, and I hoped my luck held.
After my time at the police station, I’d told myself I’d accept whatever punishment Mom gave me, and I really intended to go straight home from school to clean the kitchen, as she’d ordered me to do for the next month, and even to have dinner ready. But the idea of missing out on learning new dance moves for an entire month—well, I couldn’t stay home.
I hated myself for being weak, for wanting something so much I couldn’t accept a punishment I knew I deserved—no, that was way less than I deserved.
The redhead who’d befriended me last Thursday had her private lesson today. Last Wednesday, she had pulled the curtains and I’d only been able to watch the lesson before and after hers, but today she left it open. I waved at her.
Watching today hurt worse than I’d thought it would, given that now I knew there was absolutely no possibility of paying for lessons myself. My chest felt tight, and I struggled to breathe. Concentrate on the movements, I told myself. I can do this myself at home.
I bit my lip and tried not to cry. Before her lesson ended, I slipped into the small bathroom off the changing room to fix my face because I hadn’t been all that successful at not crying.
When I emerged, I saw Sister Rushton in the observation area. James was with her, and my face reddened as I came back to myself and remembered that I wasn’t supposed to be here but at home serving out my punishment. She’d tell Mom. Maybe I even wanted her to. Maybe if Mom knew about the lessons she could find a way.
No. She couldn’t. She’d enroll me in something less expensive, and I might not be allowed to return here even to watch.
I walked toward Sister Rushton as a redheaded lady came in the door, probably here to pick up her daughter.
“Kyle, look who’s here!” James said. “Lauren might be taking dance like you. Isn’t that cool?”
Of course that was why she was here. I’d have laughed if it hadn’t hurt so much. “I’m not taking dance. I’m just here to watch a friend.” I kept my voice low so the redheaded lady and her daughter, now coming from the dance floor, wouldn’t hear.
The redhead waved at me as she left. I smiled, though my face felt frozen. Maybe Sister Rushton wouldn’t tell my mom. She couldn’t know the details of my punishment, and I’d be good. I wouldn’t even come back tomorrow to watch the group lessons. But I knew I was lying to myself about that. I would do everything I could to make it here.
“I didn’t see a bike,” Sister Rushton said. “Do you guys need a ride home?”
“Sure!” James grabbed her hand. “It’s a long ways home, and I’m hungry. We’ve been here forever.”
The teacher was coming my way, probably to ask if I was planning on actually taking real lessons instead of watching all the time. I felt like a fraud.
“Come on. Let’s go.” I hurried out the door, feeling eyes gouging into me as I left. I blinked hard to keep back fresh tears.
Sister Rushton and James came outside with the teacher. James walked over to me where I waited by Sister Rushton’s van, while Sister Rushton lingered. Probably discussing how talented Lauren was. An ache blossomed in my chest.
Help me. I didn’t know whom I was asking. Wait, I did know. God. Would He care for a disobedient girl who was also a shoplifter and a lousy sister who left her brother all alone in a stranger’s backyard? A girl who was jealous of a redheaded stranger because she could dance?
Probably not.
The sound of Sister Rushton’s laughter floated to me on the light breeze that felt cold and clammy on my skin.
James and Sister Rushton chatted on the drive home, and though she tried to include me by asking about last night’s Young Women activity, I felt too depressed to talk. I’d enjoyed the activity, and the girls seemed much nicer to me than they’d been on Sundays. I even understood why Allia loved it so much. I almost felt as if I belonged. Until we’d left and the reality of who I was set in.
Shoplifter, grounded, poor, jealous, greedy, angry. Angry.
Maybe I would tell Mom where I’d been. Dump it all in her lap. Accuse her of not taking care of me.
Except I’d heard her crying last night, when I’d awakened myself, drenched in sweat, tears on my cheeks. I’d dreamed about my father, the man I knew on
ly from a picture. He’d come to visit, but instead of helping me, he’d stolen the seventeen dollars I’d saved toward my lessons.
“Here we are.” Sister Rushton brought the van to a halt.
“Thanks,” I said.
“I’ll talk to your mother about taking dance, okay?”
I shook my head. “No. Please.”
She tilted her head but didn’t reply. “Never give up hope. Never.”
I watched her drive away, and the only thing that gave me the strength to go up the walk and open the door was what she’d said.
Mom came home after I fed James a grilled cheese sandwich and put him in front of the TV with the licorice I’d promised him.
“Hi, kids.”
“I saved you a sandwich,” I said. “Just needs warming up.”
She reached for the plate but closed her hands just short of it. “This darn headache,” she said. “Makes me see double.” She picked up the plate and fumbled with the door of the microwave before getting it open.
“Aren’t you supposed to clean the kitchen?” she asked.
“I had homework,” I said quickly, glad James wasn’t there to contradict me. “I’ll do it now.”
“Okay.” She took her sandwich from the microwave, sat down at the table, and stared out the window, though I was pretty sure she was seeing nothing. When her phone rang, she fumbled for it. “Hello?” Pause. “Oh, hi, Quinn.”
Quinn, or the Couch Man, as I thought of him. Maybe he’d come over with more hamburgers and fries.
“Friday? Oh, I can’t. I have something planned with the kids. But thanks for asking. Some other time. Yeah, maybe next week. Yep. Thanks. Okay, bye.” She heaved a sigh and laid her head on the table. “Can you bring me my purse?”
When I did, she popped a pill from a bottle and swallowed it without water before laying her head again on the table next to her plate. “Thanks.”
Uneasiness stirred in my stomach. “Are you okay?”
“It was a busy day at work. How was your day?”
“I’m grounded. How do you think it was?” All the bitterness came flooding back.
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