Her hand flies to her chest. She’s so jumpy now.
“Sorry,” I say. Seth’s mother is sitting at the table next to her and she gives me a small wave.
She smiles and says, “It’s been a long time, Owen. It’s good to see you again.”
“Hey, Mrs. Sullivan,” I say. “Nice to see you again.” I don’t think it’s the time to mention that Seth isn’t dying to rekindle our friendship.
Mom hasn’t had a visitor—that I know of—since I got here, so I’m curious what this is about. Mom has a legal pad in front of her, the page filled with her small neat writing.
Mrs. Sullivan pats the table in between her and Mom and says, “Call me if you think of anything I should add.”
Mom nods and the first genuine smile I’ve seen on her breaks across her face. “I will, Elise. And again, I really appreciate this opportunity.”
As soon as Mom is back from walking her to the door, I ask, “What was that about?”
“Elise heard I’ve been looking for a job. She can’t hire me at the antiques store she owns downtown with Sheila Blackwell because Sheila isn’t speaking to me anymore, but she does have a huge party coming up at her house and she’s overwhelmed. Normally she uses Ardoin’s, just like everyone else in town, but she said she wants to go a different route for this party and asked me to cater it for her.”
“Oh, wow, Mom, that’s great!”
“I know, right!” And there’s that smile again. “From our conversation today, it sounds like money is tighter than it used to be since her divorce and I’m a fraction of the cost that Ardoin’s would charge, but no matter what the reason, I’m thrilled she’s giving me a chance.”
She puts her arm around my shoulders and steers me to a chair at the kitchen table. “Are you hungry?” she asks.
“Starving.”
She hasn’t asked where I spend my afternoons and I haven’t offered.
“I need to get Lucinda to go to the grocery store. We’re out of almost everything. And I’ll need supplies for Elise’s party.”
It’s not lost on me that she won’t even consider going to the store herself.
“Make me a list of what you need and I’ll go for you,” I say.
She gives me a smile and nods while I take a seat at the table. Mom pulls random things out of the fridge and throws together an omelet. She knows I love breakfast at any other time than breakfast time. Instead of working at Louisiana Frac, she should have opened a bakery or restaurant years ago. It’s not surprising Mrs. Sullivan wants her to cook for her party.
“Now that you got a catering gig, maybe you should think of starting your own business.”
She shakes her head quickly. “This is a one-time thing. And Elise has always been kind to me. She’s just doing me a favor because she knows we need the money.”
I shrug. “You may be surprised.”
Instead of talking about it, she changes the subject. “So I heard there’s a dance coming up at school next week.”
“Yeah, that’s the word around school.”
She sets the plate of food down in front of me. The omelet is loaded with ham, two different kinds of cheese, mushrooms, and onions, and my mouth is watering just looking at it.
“You should go,” she says. “This is home now, like it or not, and the sooner you settle in, the better it will be.”
“I don’t need to settle in. As soon as we’re free to leave, that’s exactly what we need to do.” I pick up the plate and move toward the den that acts as my bedroom. “Thanks for the food, Mom,” I say as I leave the kitchen. I’d rather eat alone than talk about making this place home.
Noah—Summer of 1999
She sits cross-legged on the end of the couch, facing me. “Tell me five things about you and I’ll tell you five things about me.”
Maggie has been here almost every night for the last week and a half. Sometimes it’s just for a few minutes right when I get off work, and other times it’s late at night and she manages to stay for a few hours. And every time she leaves, she brushes her lips against mine and asks me if she can come back tomorrow.
Tonight it’s late and I know she’s snuck out of her house to be here. But it’s different this time. Something about Maggie is different. I turn and mimic the way she’s sitting so I’m facing her. She only wants to know five things about me but I want to know a thousand about her.
I could go for the obvious. I’m nineteen, I’m from St. Louis, I’m hoping to save up enough money so I can go to college…all the easy things. And most of these things she already knows.
But instead I say, “One: I left home and moved into an old run-down house with a group of guys I ran with when I was fifteen because my dad beat the shit out of me, and my mom didn’t stop him. Two: When I decided I needed to get out of St. Louis for good, I stood in the bus station and looked at the map, trying to decide which direction to go. This was as far south as my money would take me.”
Maggie’s eyes are big, clearly expecting the easy answers. I push on, not thinking about how I’m probably going to run her off if I continue.
“Three: I’ve been in trouble with the law. One time it was because I was drunk and got in a fight with this guy. I beat him up pretty bad but he deserved it. I hardly drink anymore but I would still fight someone if they were hurting someone I cared about. I don’t regret that part.”
She bites her bottom lip then says, “I think you’re trying to scare me off.”
I give her a small smile. “Is it working?”
She shakes her head back and forth, slowly. “Two more to go.”
“Four: Somehow, I screw everything up. No matter how hard I try not to, it always happens.”
Her forehead scrunches together. “Now that seems like a warning.”
I shrug but don’t answer.
“One more to go,” she says.
I take a deep breath. “Five: Even though I know I’ll somehow screw this up, I’m glad you’re here, with me, right now.”
Maggie pulls her legs in close to her and props her chin on her knees. Her hair is pulled back and her face is scrubbed clean of any makeup. She probably acted like she was getting ready for bed before she snuck out of her window to come here.
“So we’re going for brutally honest here, I see. One: My parents are really overprotective. So much that I’m hardly allowed to go anywhere without their approval of who I’m with and what we’re doing.”
This really isn’t a surprise but it’s the first time she’s said it out loud. Her parents don’t know she’s here, with me, and they’d probably lose their shit if they did.
“Two: I dated the same boy all through high school. One my parents adored because he was the right kind of boyfriend. But they only saw what they wanted to see, not how he really was.”
“Are you still dating him?” I ask, trying to keep my voice even.
“No. I broke up with him right after graduation.”
I nod, and she continues: “Three: I can’t wait to go off to college because I’m miserable at home. My sister and I fight all the time, my parents don’t understand me at all. I feel like I’m suffocating there. But as much as I may want out of my house, I know it’s nothing compared to what went on in yours.”
Maggie pulls her ponytail in front of her, twisting her fingers in the long lengths. “Four: Someone like you scares me a little. You seem dangerous and you make me nervous.”
Well, there’s brutal honesty for you. I start to get up from the couch, not really wanting to hear the rest of where this is going, but she crawls closer, putting a hand on my arm, stopping me.
“Five: And even though you told me you would probably screw this up and even though I’m nervous as hell being here with you, I don’t want to be anywhere else.”
I pull her close and she’s in my lap; her arms weave around my neck.
“I don’t want to be anywhere else, either,” I whisper back.
She leans forward, her lips brushing mine like they
do every night just before she leaves, but instead of pulling away as she normally does, she lingers. I let her set the pace because I’m terrified of scaring her any more than she already is. As much as it may kill me, we could stay just like this, without going any further, and I’d be happy.
Maggie takes a deep breath and her eyes drift closed and she’s kissing me the way I’ve been dreaming about. And I kiss her right back.
8
Taking my normal route through the neighbor’s backyard to avoid the news vans out front, I jog to Gus’s truck parked down the street. It’s still dark since I’m leaving earlier than normal for detention this morning and the fog is thick but at least that helps hide me from all those cameras. I open the driver door and light from a nearby streetlamp catches on the window. Written in the condensation that formed are three words:
I drop my backpack and spin around. The small rivulets of water dripping from each letter haven’t gotten far, so this wasn’t written too long ago.
The fog that just moments ago felt safe now feels like it’s closing in around me. Is whoever wrote this still here, hidden just a few feet away in the thick clouds? Are they waiting for a reaction?
The street is empty except for the caravan of news vans I can’t see but know are a block away. I debate whether or not to show myself to them in the hopes one of them saw someone lurking here, but I’d give away my location…and they’ll know what I’m driving.
Not to mention this would fuel the next news cycle.
But if I can’t see them, then I know they didn’t see whoever did this.
I snap a picture of the words and dig Detective Hill’s card out of my wallet, texting him a copy of the picture and a quick explanation of what it is. As wet as the window is, I know there won’t be any prints, but at least he can add this in with the rest of the evidence he’s collecting.
Then I call Mom and she answers on the second ring.
“Hey, did you forget something?” she asks.
I don’t want to tell her what I found. She’ll find some reason to make me stay home, or worse, send me away somewhere “safe.” And as much as I want to leave, I’m not leaving without her.
“No. Just forgot to ask you what you’re doing today,” I say as I jump into the driver’s seat.
I hear the excitement in her voice. “Finalizing the menu for Elise’s party. And doing a trial run on some dishes I haven’t made in years.”
I have another call coming through—Detective Hill—so I end the call with Mom saying, “Okay. Well, I’ll see you later.”
I switch calls and Detective Hill says, “Whose vehicle is that?”
“Gus Trudeau’s. I got a job working for him. He’s letting me use his truck so I can get back and forth from work.”
“Did you see anyone near the truck?”
“No. But the message can’t have been here long.”
“I’ll head that way. Wait for me,” he says.
I look at the window. “The message is almost gone. Won’t be anything left for you to see when you get here. And I need to get to school. Just get someone to keep a close eye on the house.” I get in the truck and crank the engine.
I end the call, throwing the phone on the seat of the truck, and drive to school.
David and I arrive at school thirty minutes early, just as we were instructed. We walk nearly side by side, me following him to the part of the building where the janitors keep their supplies, but we don’t speak. It’s taking a lot for me to cool down after what happened this morning.
There’s an older man waiting for us who looks as thrilled as we do about having the extra help this morning.
“Dr. G thinks he’s doing me a favor by sending y’all to help, but all you’re capable of is some busywork that I could do twice as fast on my own,” he mumbles as he hands us each a garbage bag.
We both stand there, waiting for further instructions, and the man rolls his eyes. “They’re trash bags. Go outside and pick up trash.”
David moves away first but I’m right on his heels. Before I left the house this morning, before I saw the words written on the window of the truck, I thought about Pippa’s words and how I should try to understand what Dad did to David’s family. And I thought about what I would say to him, but I’m having a hard time getting back to that place of understanding. All I can think about is someone waited until they knew I was coming outside to make sure I would see the message, because the timing had to be perfect.
Even though I’m struggling, deep down I know Pippa is right, so I say, “Hey, man, sorry about yesterday.” It’s the best I can do right now. And since we’re on trash duty for the rest of next week, I’ll have plenty of time to try to talk to him when I don’t feel like I want to beat the shit out of something.
David doesn’t stop but does throw me a glance over his shoulder. “It’s done,” he mumbles back.
We step through a set of doors that leads to a small courtyard where most people eat their lunch. Neither of us is in any hurry so we both shuffle around, scooping up random pieces of trash that happen to cross our path.
I don’t mind the silence. In fact, I’d be okay with not having to speak to another soul in this place.
Well, except Pippa. Ever since she told me we’re not friends, all I can think about is trying to change her mind.
“I know I’m not supposed to say anything, but your dad completely fucked my family over. You didn’t know what he was doing?”
I’m hunched over, grabbing a cookie wrapper when his words drift over to me. I take my time straightening up. Take my time trying to arrange the words to answer him so my anger over what happened this morning doesn’t bleed into my conversation with him now. This is something I want to talk to him about but I don’t know if I’m in the right frame of mind.
When I’m back upright, the bag hanging from one hand and the wrapper in the other, I answer. “No. Had no idea.”
We stand there staring at each other, him weighing my words and me breathing in and out, hoping I can stop the explosion that’s simmering right under the surface. “He fucked us, too.” I know I shouldn’t say this but I can’t stop the words. “Me and Mom. We don’t have shit. No money. No house. Nothing.”
David’s head cocks to the side. He watches me. Wants to see if I’ll say anything else.
When he realizes that must be all I’ve got, he says, “My dad saved every penny. Always has. Working on a well site was hard work and he knew he couldn’t do it forever. When your dad offered him the chance to buy stock in the company, he jumped at it. We didn’t take many vacations. My parents didn’t drive nice cars. Because we were saving. I always wondered if he had a magic number in his head or some goal he was trying to hit but I never asked. It’s all he talked about…the things we would do when we had enough. And now it doesn’t matter because it’s gone. All of it. And every penny of my dad’s money was spent on you doing all of the things I wished for…ski trips, beach trips, cars, boats…everything I wanted, you got, while I was waiting for it to be enough. So when you say we were both fucked, it’s not the same. Not at all.”
He turns and moves away from me, picking up random trash as he goes. He doesn’t say anything else but his words hammer me harder than his fists ever could, and I drop down onto the nearest bench to catch my breath the second he turns the corner and is out of sight.
It’s not my fault. I didn’t steal all of that from him. Dad did. Not my fault.
But my words sound hollow and it’s hard to hold on to the righteousness I felt before. I push away from the bench, grab my trash bag from where I dropped it on the ground, and move in the opposite direction from David.
Noah—Summer of 1999
“You’re going to have to leave this place at some point,” Maggie says. Her arms and legs are wrapped around me as I walk us deeper into the river. It took me an hour to talk her into the water but she’s still scared of something “getting her.”
It’s high noon and hot enough that Gu
s told me to take a few hours off out of the heat and said we’ll get the rest of the work done this evening when it’s a bit cooler. I couldn’t call Maggie quick enough.
“Why would I ever leave? I have everything I want right here.” Gus said these same words to me and now I understand what he means by them. To emphasize my point, I pull her even closer. She didn’t know we’d be swimming so she didn’t bring a suit. She’s got one of my Goodwill T-shirts on over her bra and underwear and I’m the happiest guy in the world right now.
Maggie has been here every day for the last three weeks. She’d bring a few groceries and Gus let her use his big kitchen. Maggie is a genius when it comes to cooking. It didn’t take long before Abby was splitting her time between getting a little sun on the front porch and hanging out in the kitchen with us. And after Maggie made some simple soups that were easy on Abby’s stomach but full of the good things she needs, Gus made sure Betty kept the pantry and fridge stocked with whatever Maggie needed.
But mostly Maggie sneaks over here at night after I’m done working and her parents are in bed. I hate the word sneaking but that’s exactly what she’s doing, so it feels good to be out in the sun with her, swimming and playing around in the water. It makes me wish we could do this every day.
“You can’t stay in this orchard. There’s a big world out there and you should come be a part of it.”
“Gus stays here every day,” I answer back.
“Well, it’s not healthy for him, either. And now people are scared to come out here, especially after he lost it when those women from church showed up, wanting to pray over Abby.”
Yeah, that wasn’t a good day. Those women showed up by the carfuls, dressed in their Sunday best, holding their Bibles. Even before Abby was sick, Gus and Abby weren’t big on going to church, but the shit hit the fan when one of the women mentioned they were here to get Abby to accept Jesus before she died so she could get into heaven.
I’m pretty sure all those women now think that not only will Abby go to hell, but Gus is the devil who will send her there.
The Lying Woods Page 9