“"Maybe you should go down to the store and try to talk to him,”" Jilly suggested.
“"Confront Martin?”" Lucy laughed. “"At work? No way. Only if I never want to straighten this out. I’'ve never known him to do anything remotely like this, but I do know that when Martin is ready to talk, he’'ll talk. All I can do is hope he will call me back, but if he’'s this upset, it’'s got to be on his own terms. Maybe he just needs time to calm down from whatever freaked him out, but my hope is not high. He threw me out without so much as one word of explanation. Truthfully, that’'s not something I want to lock into for a lifetime, you know? Cold feet is one thing, but this?”"
“"Yeah, you’'re right. You can stay at our place as long as you need to,”" Jilly reassured her.
“"Thanks,”" Lucy said with a nod before Jilly gave her a hug, but Lucy already knew that although it was a selfless offer, it wasn’'t an option. How long could she sleep on Jilly’'s couch with no job and no references to get another one? How long could she bunk in the living room of a generous friend when she had hardly any money saved to get her own apartment? Easily, she would need to work for a month or two before she’'d have enough money for a month’'s rent and security deposit. No one was going to rent to her if she was unemployed. And despite Jilly’'s love for Tulip, how could Lucy ask that her friends take in her dog, too? Lucy had one, and only one, option, so after she got everything she had from her cubby in the break room and her last measly check from Nola, she sat in the cab of her truck in the parking lot of the doctor’'s office and dialed her cellphone.
Flagstaff wasn’'t that far away, Lucy told herself. Two hours, two and a half, tops. She could haul all of her stuff up in one day, and easily make the drive down to get Tulip on Thursday. It was simple. Staying at her sister’'s was really the only thing she could do. The only true way family can throw you out is with an appearance by the sheriff holding a warrant.
And Alice was the only family Lucy had left besides an odd cousin here or there. They had been raised by their grandmother Naunie, a fiery no-nonsense woman with an inch of patience that burned up quicker than an oil-soaked candlewick. When they were barely toddlers, Lucy and Alice were collected and taken to the family farm by Naunie after both their parents had been killed in a car accident. Lucy and Alice grew up there with the help of an uncle until he was pulled into a combine the way a vacuum cleaner sucks up a penny. After that, it had just been the three of them, making do and creating a family of their own, depending only on each other. It was times like this that Lucy knew she could count on her sister.
“"It’'ll only be for a little while,”" Lucy told Alice. “"Won’'t take me long to get my stuff together and figure something out. Plus, I haven’'t seen you for a while. It’'ll be good to catch up.”"
“"Actually, I could use the help around here. Things are a little tight,”" Alice replied. “"I haven’'t gotten a child support check in months, and I just put almost everything I had into getting a new transmission for a car I shoulda junked years ago. I would love to have you, Lucy.”"
“"And Tulip, too?”" Lucy almost hesitated to ask.
“"No question. Jared would love to have a pal to run around with in the backyard. A nine-year-old boy has more energy than he ought to,”" her sister added. “"It would be wonderful if your nephew got to know you better. The divorce was hard for him. My ex-husband has a new family now, so apparently, it was easy for him to forget about his old one. It will be a good distraction to have you and Tulip here.”"
So with help from Warren, Lucy once again loaded up the back of the truck with everything she could squeeze in, and left the remainder piled in the corner of Jilly’'s garage, promising to come and claim it when she had all of this trouble sorted out. Before she left, Jilly made sure Lucy set herself up with a free email account since her old one was through the cable company back at Martin’'s house. This way they could keep in touch, even if it was a while before Lucy got really settled.
“"If your phone ever gets shut off, at least you can pop into one of those Internet cafées and check your email for a dollar,”" Jilly said as Lucy put her keys in the ignition and turned the engine over. “"Don’'t let me lose you, Lucy.”"
Lucy looked at her friend quizzically and laughed. “"How you gonna lose me, Jilly?”" She smirked. “"You’'ve got a bunch of my stuff sitting where your car should be. I always come back for what’'s mine!”"
“"All right, then,”" Jilly said as she smacked the window frame with her hand and smiled. “"You go on and go. You’'ve always been nothin’' but trouble.”"
Lucy laughed, and then backed out of the driveway and headed for I-17 in her truck, the bed covered with tarps and ropes to hold everything down. Whatever Lucy owned that wasn’'t in the bed of the truck or stashed in Jilly’'s garage was in her pocket. She was the only one who had failed the drug test in the office, and when Nola had handed her check over, she’'d done so with the side note that Lucy’'s benefits were paid up until the end of the month, including life and health insurance, but once the month was over, the benefits ended. Nola had also said that if Lucy had any plans to file for unemployment, she should know that Nola would see to it directly that Dr. Meadows would appeal it on the grounds of financial fraud. So Lucy had cashed her last paycheck—--less than a couple hundred dollars—--and with what she had left in the bank, the grand total rolled to $430, folded in a lump, in the front right pocket of her jeans.
On the drive up north, she tried not to remember what had crumbled over the last couple of days. Every time her mind snuck over and picked at that spot, she changed the station on the radio and tried to find a song she knew the words to. She laughed at the clichée when Gloria Gaynor wailed through the static that she would survive, and Lucy gave in and wailed along with her. I’'m not going to focus on any of it, she told herself firmly. I’'m going to take what I’'ve got and move on to something else, something new, something different. This is a whole new chance for me. A brand-new chapter in my life. I get to start over with not one single string.
Lucy switched the radio station again. She sang along, mumbling at first, then clearer, more legible, and louder, and then as loud as she could.
Outside the truck on the interstate, the tall, spired cacti were flashing by less and less, slowly overcome by the dusty green brush that signaled that she was leaving the desert.
Lucy looked over and saw the brush form one continuous sage-colored blurry line. For the first time in what seemed like forever, she was glad.
It had been a while since Lucy had been up to Alice’'s, but when she pulled into the dirt circular driveway, the house looked shabbier than she remembered it, almost as if tweakers had spent the night and sucked some life out of it. A dry brown pot of withered petunias sat next to the door of the light blue, weathered, low-slung wood-paneled house. The posts of the spilt rail fence leaned in various, unintentional directions. Pine needles from the towering trees blanketed the ground everywhere, enough that it looked like they hadn’'t been raked up in years. Lucy knew it had been hard for Alice since she and her husband had split the year before, so if Lucy’'s living at the house would help her sister out, it made everything seem a little brighter. She decided that this would be good, for her to get out of Phoenix for a while, clear her head. She could water flowers or fix a fence. She wished she had been able to bring Tulip with her, but in two days, she’'d be able to drive back to Phoenix to pick her up and really start everything all over again.
The front door opened, and Alice, tall and thin, her wispy hair back in a ponytail, stepped outside. With a wide smile, she came toward Lucy, walking down the driveway, barefoot, with her arms open wide. The joy on her face charged Lucy, and when they finally embraced in an earnest hug, Alice emitted a glad, true deep-throated laugh.
“"I am so happy you’'re here,”" she said as she held Lucy close to her.
“"Me, too,”" Lucy agreed with a full smile.
“"I’'m so sorry about Ma
rtin,”" Alice said with a squeeze, and then she pulled back to look at her sister. “"You haven’'t heard from him at all?”"
Lucy shook her head as she pulled back. “"He wouldn’'t call me back, and now his number’'s been disconnected,”" she said with a shrug. “"There’'s not much I can do, you know? Maybe he’'ll talk to me when I go pick Tulip up. He’'ll have to say something.”"
Alice held Lucy at arm’'s length. “"And what about work? Is there any way to sort that out?”"
Lucy shook her head again. “"I was the only one who came up dirty, and I still can’'t tell you why,”" she answered. “"But I’'ve decided to look at this as an opportunity to start over again. New job, new life, new everything. Who knows what tomorrow will bring, right?”"
Later that night, Lucy opened the oven door and pulled out a beautifully browned pan of meat loaf made from Naunie’'s beloved recipe, while Alice gave the mashed potatoes one last whirl with the hand mixer. Jared put the plates on the kitchen table, and lined the forks and knives along the sides of them, and Lucy ruffled his hair as she reached over and placed the meat loaf on a trivet square in the middle. He smiled as he sat down at the dinner table. His Aunt Lucy had bought him a present, a little iPod he could keep in his pocket and listen to while taking the bus to and from school. Lucy knew she didn’'t have the money to be buying things like that, but it hadn’'t been that expensive, and when he’'d showed it to his mother at the store display when they had all been out that afternoon, his face had lit up. It seemed to Lucy that he hadn’'t had much to smile about for a while, and that she should have been there for him long before this. The player made him happy, which, in turn, made Lucy happy. Besides, she was heading to the unemployment office first thing tomorrow, ready to battle any claim against her that Dr. Meadows might make, so week after next, there would be money coming in whether or not she had found a job yet.
“"Naunie’'s meat loaf!”" Alice said excitedly as she placed the potatoes next to the meat loaf. “"It smells so good. I can’'t wait to eat it. I miss all of her home cooking, and tomorrow I get to have a meat loaf sandwich for lunch right after I have my yearly review at work, in which, crossing fingers, I will get a nice big raise.”"
Lucy dropped a huge spoonful of mashed potatoes onto Jared’'s plate. “"Of course you’'re going to get a raise. You’'ve been working at the school district since you guys moved up here. This here is lucky meat loaf, you know! You can’'t eat Naunie’'s meat loaf and not be lucky!”"
“"All right, then. In that case, you’'re going to have good luck at the unemployment office,”" Alice said, raising her can of Diet Coke.
“"To a raise and to early retirement,”" Lucy joked as she raised her soda can and Jared raised his glass of milk. “"Cheers!”"
“"And to Naunie’'s meat loaf,”" Alice interjected. “"Cheers!”"
“"What do you remember about Naunie?”" Lucy asked her nephew after the toast.
“"Well,”" Jared began after he took a forkful of fluffy, creamy potatoes. “"I remember one summer when we were visiting the farm on vacation and she made me go out and run the hose over that big pig named Willy, who I think really liked being washed, because he snorted and then he smiled at me. The next night she said, ‘'Isn’'t Willy a good pig?’' and I said yes, that he was very nice. And she said, ‘'No, not nice! Tasty!’' and took another bite of her pork chop.”"
Lucy nodded. “"Well, you know, she had a habit of doing that,”" she said simply, as Alice slid a slice of the meat loaf onto Jared’'s plate. “"You learned not to get attached to anything on the farm, even smiling pigs. Do you remember anything else about her?”"
“"She seemed pretty cranky most of the time,”" Jared said honestly. “"But she did make good Willy chops.”"
“"You know, your Naunie was something else,”" Lucy offered. “"Not only could she dress and fry up a pig, but there wasn’'t anything she couldn’'t do—--and if she didn’'t know how to do something when she started, she’'d figure it out until she was finished. She never left anything undone. She had an iron will, that cranky old lady.”"
“"We were able to get the car fixed with the money when we sold her farm,”" his mother reminded him. “"And we bought you a new bike. I remember you being pretty happy about that.”"
Her son nodded. “"I do like my bike,”" he said with a smile.
“"It’'s a good thing you still have that money from the farm,”" Alice said to Lucy. “"That will be a nice cushion for you until you find something.”"
Lucy stopped. She didn’'t know what to say. She now felt terrible about blowing the money on a vacation when Alice was struggling with simply paying for necessities. How could she possibly say that she had taken her share of the farm that her grandmother had broken her back to keep going and had blown it on a lousy trip to Hawaii? Lucy was quickly ashamed at what she had done with her portion, the pinnacle of the vacation spent hurling into a stranger’'s toilet after drinking some hot, bitter beer, a bitterness that had hung in the back of her throat just like—--
Lucy gasped and nearly dropped her fork.
Holy shit, she thought. Holy shit.
He laced my beer. That asshole roofied my beer with coke while I was waiting for Marianne.
Holy shit.
“"Lucy!”" Alice yelled as she ran into the house, the door slamming loudly behind her. “"Lucy! I need your truck! My car won’'t start! Where are your keys?”"
Lucy shot awake on the sleeper couch when she heard Alice yelling. Light filled the living room in dusty yellow streams that stretched across the room.
“"What?”" Lucy mumbled groggily.
“"I need your keys!”" Alice demanded, poking her head through the doorway that connected the living room and kitchen. “"My review! My review is in twenty-five minutes, Lucy! I can’'t be late. God, I can’'t be late. Where are your keys?”"
Lucy struggled to remember where she’'d put them. Had she placed them on the kitchen counter? Were they in her purse?
“"I d-dunno,”" she stammered groggily. “"Kitchen counter, purse. One of those.”"
She heard Alice searching the counter, then the collision of metal keys against one another as she scooped them up.
“"Got ’'em,”" she said right before her head popped back into the doorway. “"Is it all right? Can I take the truck? I can’'t wait for the bus, I won’'t make it.”"
“"Sure,”" Lucy said, her eyes still adjusting to the light. “"I don’'t have to get Tulip until Thursday. How far is the unemployment office? Can I take a bus or a cab?”"
“"I have the bus schedule on the refrigerator door,”" Alice said quickly. “"Look for the courthouse on the map. The office is right across the street from it. I’'ll see you tonight?”"
“"Yeah, I’'ll see you tonight,”" she replied, still half-asleep and trying to fully open her eyes.
“"Good luck!”" she called after Alice, a millimeter of a second before she heard the door slam again.
With her finger firmly pressed on the map on top of the spot for the courthouse, Lucy searched out the window, trying to figure out where she was. She didn’'t know the town very well, but she remembered certain landmarks from her trips up before. She had just passed Alice’'s favorite diner, and she was sure she was readily approaching the bar where she had had one of her last affairs with Jack Daniel’'s. The bus emitted a loud gasp as it pulled to a stop, the doors creaking open.
“"Next stop, courthouse,”" the driver announced over the intercom, to Lucy’'s relief, particularly since Lucy had explained to the driver when she’'d gotten on the bus that she had no idea where she was going. The bus driver, a ruddy, plump woman in her sixties, had patted her hand and told her not to worry; she would make sure Lucy knew when the courthouse stop was. A minute or two later, Lucy saw a large, brick clock tower with a spire on top that she knew had to be the landmark. Sure enough, the bus pulled directly in front of it and stopped, and the doors flapped open with several mechanical groa
ns.
“"Courthouse,”" the driver announced, then turned and pointed to Lucy. “"This is you, sugar,”" she said with smile, and Lucy picked up her things, slipping in line with the other riders filing their way out. She waved at the driver before she disembarked with a little “"Thank you!”" and the bus driver waved back and smiled.
On the street, it had bloomed into the perfect spring day. The sky was a clear, bright blue, the kind of blue Michelangelo used when painting the heavens in the Sistine Chapel. The sun shone a perfect, soothing white, just enough to tint the day with a bounce. A slight breeze fluttered by, blowing several strands of hair into Lucy’'s face. She smiled and tucked the hair behind her ear, noting how glorious the sun felt on her skin. It was a good day. Map still in hand, she scanned the buildings around her as she walked down the block, looking for anything that resembled the unemployment office. When she came up empty, she looked across the street, and there she saw it, sitting exactly parallel to the courthouse, with DEPARTMENT OF ECONOMIC SECURITY in gray and gold lettering across the window.
As Lucy waited to cross the street, a car pulled up next to her, all windows rolled down for its passengers to enjoy the gorgeous day. The melody coming from the car was familiar, but Lucy couldn’'t name it until the song surged into the chorus, and that was when she smiled and shook her head as Gloria Gaynor once again declared that she was going to survive.
Lucy turned to check the time on the clock tower: It was 12:34, lunchtime. At first she cursed herself for getting there just in time for the lunchtime rush, but then she laughed at herself when she realized that there was no lunch hour rush when you were unemployed. Lunchtime lasted all day. She heard the walk signal sound and moved forward, but then another gust of wind blew a chunk of hair over her eyes just as she stepped from the curb into the street. When she finally got the hair tucked behind her ear again, she heard a loud torrent of a roar rushing at her with a force that was fast and consuming. Lucy looked up and saw the horrified face of the bus driver who had been kind enough to let Lucy know when her stop was. In a slice of a second so thin there was no measurement for it, that roar pulled her forward, sucked her backward, and then, without hesitation, swallowed her.
Spooky Little Girl Page 4