Ashes of Life

by Erica Lucke Dean

  That was the day he told me he’d impregnated and married her. That I’d never be rid of her.

  With a shudder, I forced myself into the present. I liked to think that with Dad gone, I’d never have to see her again. Unfortunately for me, that stupid baby would tie her to me forever.

  “Let me carry that for you.” Brody lifted the bag off my shoulder.

  I glanced at his stupid smirk. “Trying to get back in my good graces?”

  “Well, you have been avoiding me all week.”

  “And apparently, you didn’t take the hint.” If he hadn’t grabbed my bag, I would have put as much distance between us as possible.

  He waved at a couple of his friends then turned to walk backward down the hall, facing me. “I’m sorry, okay? I shouldn’t have let you get that far gone on Saturday, and I should have stuck around to make sure you were all right. Forgive me?” He wasn’t paying attention to where he was walking and almost smacked into a girl half his size. I reached out and grabbed his coat to pull him out of the way, but I ended up pulling him toward me. He smiled and wrapped his arms around me. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

  I knew I should have pushed him away, kept up the appearance of being angry a little longer. That was how the game was played, after all. But I couldn’t deny how good it felt to have someone hold me like that. Even him. I rested my forehead on his chest, just under his chin. His coat smelled like snow with a hint of weed. Flocks of students walked around us to get out of the building. They were probably all staring, but I didn’t care. “I’m still pissed at you.”

  “I know.” He rubbed his hands up and down my back. Even through my thick winter jacket, I could feel the heat of his touch. “Let me make it up to you?”

  I stepped back to look at him. “How?”

  “I have a swim meet this weekend, but next weekend, Luke’s parents are letting him use the camp. I’ll pick you up and bring you home like a proper date. What happens in between is entirely up to you.”

  I narrowed my eyes. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew his plan was a bad idea. But to the new me—the me who wanted to feel something, anything, the more painful the better—it sounded perfect. “I’m staying at Haleigh’s.”

  His expression said he misunderstood my hesitation, and that played right into my hand. “She doesn’t have to know where we’re going. It’s a private party anyway.”

  I didn’t like the idea of lying to the one person who actually gave a damn, but I had to admit, I really wanted to go. “Okay, I suppose,” I said on a calculated sigh.

  He looked over my shoulder then grinned down at me. Before I could stop him, he kissed me right there in the middle of the school’s main lobby. “Later,” he whispered in my ear then handed me my backpack and walked out of the building.

  I told myself I was in control, but the kiss affected me. A moment after that—as I tried to steady my racing heart—Grey passed me. He looked so disappointed as he glanced back then rammed the front door open and stormed off toward the parking lot, a flurry of snow trailing behind him.

  I shrugged my bag onto my shoulder and went to meet Haleigh at her car. Halfway down the front walk, I saw her talking to an old woman wearing way too much makeup, obviously trying to look years younger than she was.

  “Hi, Grandma,” I said. “What are you doing here?”

  Grandma Rosie yanked me into her arms, suffocating me in her perfumed cleavage. “I was just telling your friend I thought you’d like to go home for a while. I could stay with you at the house.”

  My grandmother had never stayed at my house before. She lived in an apartment on the other side of town, and my mom didn’t invite her over very often. I’d spent the night with her the day after the accident but then went to Haleigh’s when her parents offered. I was pretty sure Grandma didn’t want to be stuck with a teenager, but since she was my closest relative, I supposed she felt obligated. And for the moment, she didn’t reek of alcohol.

  “I’ll have to check with Mrs. Thompson.” I shot a glance at Haleigh.

  Haleigh shrugged. “I’m sure my mom will be fine with it. You haven’t been home all week.”

  “Yeah, okay.” What choice did I really have?

  “Wonderful.” Grandma Rosie beamed. “We’ll stop by later to pick up Maddie’s things,” she said to Haleigh then climbed in the driver’s seat of her beat-up blue sedan.

  Haleigh pulled me into a quick hug. “You know you can stay with me anytime, but it might be good to sleep in your own bed and stuff.”

  “Thanks. I’ll call you later.” I climbed into the passenger seat and reached for the seatbelt only to let it go just as quickly.

  Grandma’s little car traveled the slippery roads just fine, which gave me pause since Dad had had a much nicer car but somehow lost control of it. He’d clipped a guardrail and rolled it down a steep hill before it smashed into a tree. Everyone else avoided driving by the site of the accident when I was in the car, but Grandma slowed to just under the speed limit as we navigated the ‘S’ curve near the scene.

  I picked at the cracked vinyl seat. I didn’t want to see if the rail still showed signs of the accident or if it’d been fixed over the past week and a half. I didn’t want to see where his flipping car had torn up the ground, and I didn’t want to see the bare spot on the hill where the tree he’d hit used to be.

  “I think our first order of business should be to get some food,” Gram said. “We’ll stop at the house to see what’s there then go do a little shopping. How does that sound?”

  “Sure.” I thought of the last meal I’d had at home. Dad had come over for dinner on Wednesday before he and Mom went out. Dad didn’t even mention Alex. He didn’t seem to care she was out of town. Mom made meatloaf—his favorite—and it was as if we were a real family again. The leftovers were still in the refrigerator, probably spoiled by now.

  “Grab a bag of Cheetos for later,” Grandma called to me from the other end of the aisle.

  Mom never let me have junk food. She’d said I’d thank her for it when I was older. I threw two bags of the cheesy puffs into the cart and caught up with Grandma near the frozen foods.

  “All we have so far are Cheetos, Swiss Cake Rolls, Oreos, and Diet Coke. Don’t you think we’re forgetting something?” Like real food.

  “Oh, yeah! Where’s the liquor aisle? I need a bottle of Jim Beam.”

  “It’s back the other way. I’ll go. You stay here.” It was already almost five, and I was starving. If I waited any longer for her, we wouldn’t be eating until midnight.

  I grabbed the biggest bottle I could find and headed to where I’d left my grandma picking out frozen burritos, pizzas, and fried chicken. I hadn’t made it two steps before the doctor my mom had gone out with a couple times turned his cart down the aisle. Spinning around, I headed in the opposite direction. Hightailing it into the bread aisle, I collided with someone’s chest and something soft.

  “Sorry I—” Crap!

  “You smooshed my bread.” Grey scrunched up his face, puffing out his pillowy lips like a pouting little boy.

  I rolled my eyes and clutched the bottle to my chest, trying to hide the label. “Go get another loaf.”

  I almost laughed at his horrified expression. “I can’t do that.”

  “Why not? It’s not technically your bread. It’s the store’s bread.” I snatched the ruined package from his hands and put it on the shelf then took a new loaf down and handed it to him. “There. Now you don’t have to worry about a guilty conscience.”

  His lips curved into a devilish grin. “Yeah, I guess you’d know all about having a guilty conscience.”

  “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  He nodded toward the bottle in my hand. “I hope you’re not planning to smuggle that out in your shirt. Tiny little thi
ng like you couldn’t hide a shot glass, let alone a whole bottle.”

  I glared at him. “Do you come up with this stuff on the fly, or do you spend all day thinking up ways to annoy me?”

  “All day, all night, all the damn time…”

  “Well, I’d wish you’d stop.”

  I shoved past him and thought I heard him mutter, “You and me both,” before I stalked off to find Grandma loading our cart with Jell-O.

  “Gram, what are you doing?”

  “It’s on sale.” She waved a couple of boxes in the air as if she held a pair of winning lottery tickets.

  “Why do we need so much?”

  “Jell-O shots! Jim Beam puts the ‘J’ in J-E-L-L-O.”

  Can I crawl under the cart now? “Well, sale or not, we don’t need that damn much Jell-O. We can get one.” I pulled all but one box out of the cart, but Gram tossed in one more. “Fine. Two.”

  She flashed another one of her snaggle-toothed grins before something behind me drew her attention. “Who’s this handsome thing?”

  I spun around to see Grey taking a half a step back.

  My cheeks burned as I struggled to define my weird relationship with Grey Daniels. “Oh, this is Grey. We go to—”

  “So is this your young man?”

  “No!” We shouted at the same time, and for once, Grey and I were in agreement about something. He was most definitely not my ‘young man.’

  “We go to school together,” Grey clarified quickly, taking another step away from my Grandma’s leering stare.

  “Why don’t you invite him to come over for dinner? We could have a party… just the three of us.” She winked at him.

  Oh. My. God.

  “Uh, I’ll have to catch you Monday, Maddie. I’ve gotta get this bread home before it gets cold, or stale, or whatever.” And he bolted before I could even process what had just happened.

  Grandma licked her chapped lips. “Too bad. That would have been fun.”

  I gripped the cart, white knuckled, remembering the story Mom told about Grandma trying to steal her prom date. I’d always thought she was kidding. “Gram, I don’t know about you, but I could really use a drink.”

  “That’s my girl.”

  Chapter 8

  Alex

  The ringing phone jarred me awake, and I stared down at the same number that had been calling me for days. “Hello?” My voice cracked, and I cleared my throat.

  “Mrs. Barrett?” The woman’s stern voice was familiar, deep and authoritative, but I couldn’t place it.

  I scooted until my back rested against the headboard. “Alex Barrett, speaking.”

  “This is Joyce Walker. We met briefly at your husband’s… funeral. I’ve left a few messages for you but haven’t heard back.”

  “Oh, sorry.” I blurted out the words despite not being the least bit sorry for missing her calls. “I haven’t been checking my voicemail. Forgive me, Mrs. Walker, but what exactly can I do for you?”

  “Well, I’ve been trying to get some paperwork signed, but specifically, this morning, Maddie didn’t show up for school. I phoned the Thompsons and was told Maddie went to stay with her grandmother for the weekend, but I don’t have any contact information for—”

  “What do you mean she went to stay with her grandmother?” The blood rushed from my head as I shot up out of bed too quickly. “She’s not supposed to be with Rose or her aunt Shannon. My husband left strict instructions to that effect. That should be on file at the school.”

  “You would be correct. But she didn’t leave with her from school. She was staying with Haleigh’s family when she was picked up.” A long silence followed, and for a moment, I thought she’d hung up. “Forgive me for being rude, Mrs. Barrett, but Mr. and Mrs. Thompson had no way of knowing about the family restrictions Mr. Barrett had in place. Shouldn’t you have shared that with them before agreeing to leave Maddie in their care?”

  “Of course, you’re right, Mrs. Walker,” I ground out her name, pushing back a surge of temper. “But my husband had just died. I wasn’t even aware Maddie was my responsibility until a week ago. And for the past several days, I’ve been recovering from… a personal illness. So if you’ll just give me a few minutes to get my bearings, I’ll see what I can do to locate Rose and Maddie, and I’ll call you back.”

  After hanging up on the clearly annoyed Mrs. Walker, I set out on a fact-finding mission to track down my errant stepdaughter.

  The first place I could think of to search was David’s personal effects. I hadn’t touched the envelope since the coroner’s office had given it to me after the accident.

  The ghost of nausea past reared its ugly head again as I pulled open the dresser drawer where I’d stored his things that first day. The mere sight of the large manila envelope threatened to destroy the composure I’d finally managed after the nearly two weeks since… that day. I poured the contents onto the disheveled bed. His cell phone, wallet, and key ring taunted me from the sheets. They’d left his wedding ring on his finger, where it belonged. Where it would never come off again.

  After too many days off the charger, his phone wouldn’t power on, leaving me with no way to look up Rose’s number, if she even had a cell phone. I dug through the cards and bits of paper in his overstuffed wallet, leaving a wad of folded money in the pile along with the other items I had no desire to see.

  After staring at the bed for more than a few minutes, I picked up his key ring. The tarnished half-heart was the exact opposite of mine. We’d picked them up at a souvenir shop on Mackinac Island while on our honeymoon. Scratches and dings covered his half, and I couldn’t help wondering how many of those were from the accident and how many were from David dropping it.

  I recognized most of the keys—he had twice as many as I did—both my car and his, the house, the safe in his office, his locker key for the country club, another car key I didn’t recognize, and a key I couldn’t identify. It was similar to the one that unlocked our front door but not the same. I suspected this was the key to Sarah’s house.

  Digging through the things that had touched the last few moments of my husband’s life had gotten me no closer to finding Maddie or her grandmother, but it did open up a Pandora’s Box of emotions I wasn’t sure how to deal with. Sarah had been in the car with David on that icy road. Why? Why was my husband with his ex-wife while he took his last few breaths? And would I find the answer if I went to her house?

  After pulling my car into the driveway, I put it into park and sat, staring at the closed garage doors, willing the secrets within to reveal themselves to me. Was Sarah’s car in the shop? Was David just doing a favor for the mother of his only child? My hands went to my flat stomach, and the empty spot inside me ached at the thought. Not his only child but the only child he would ever know.

  The snow had stopped falling, but somehow, that made the air feel that much colder. No matter how long I spent in the desolate frozen wasteland that was Michigan, I would never get used to the weather.

  Forcing myself to step out of the warmth of my vehicle, I lingered near the door, ready to escape if I lost the nerve. A thick layer of ice coated the sidewalk under my feet as I made my way to the front door. The unidentified key slid effortlessly into the lock and turned with ease.

  The minute the door opened, I knew something was wrong. The pounding in my ears as I set out on this mission had masked the sound of the heavy bass thumping out of the speakers somewhere within the walls of the house.

  I’d never smoked before, but I’d been around enough pothead video gamers in my day to recognize the smell the minute I stepped inside the small ranch. The distinctive scent of marijuana and overwhelming odor of cheap liquor permeated the house.

  “Holy hell,” I muttered under my breath as I strained to get my bearings straight. Pictures of Maddie in various
stages of life were scattered along the walls and propped up on end tables. Christmases. Easters. Every first day of school from what looked like kindergarten to the most recent school year. And so many images of Maddie smiling in ballet costumes. Several included David with his arms wrapped around Maddie or Sarah, sometimes both. They seemed so happy. I didn’t know why, but that disturbed me. “Hello?” I called out in a trembling voice. The house should have been vacant.

  An over-processed blond head poked up from the sofa, facing away from the door. “Hey, come on in! Have a drink. We’re celebrating.”

  Celebrating? “Rose?” I stared into her bloodshot eyes, confused as to why she was here. Why she was obviously drunk and celebrating in her daughter’s—my husband’s—house. “What are you celebrating?”

  “We’re celebrating Sarah’s life, snuffed out far too soon but glorious while she lived it.”

  With his face everywhere around me, I felt as though David—and Sarah—were watching me. “Is that even appropriate? How did you get in? Did Sarah give you a key?”

  “Hell no.” Rose slapped the back of the sofa, sending up a cloud of dust. “She wouldn’t let me keep a key, but Maddie had hers.”

  “Where is Maddie?” I looked around the room for signs that my stepdaughter was anywhere inside.

  Rose waved me off. “Oh, she’s around here somewhere. Kid can’t hold her liquor.”

  I sucked in a breath, regretting it almost immediately, as the tastes and smells trapped in the house lodged in my lungs. “What! You gave her liquor? She’s a teenager! She has no business drinking.”