I can stay a little longer, she decided. Galloway doesn’t know where I am or he would have confronted me by now, right? He won’t find me if I stay here—he can’t search every house in Texas. I can stay and rest for a few more days. Maybe I can even catch the train north when the tracks are fixed.
Feeling good about this decision, she left her backpack on the bed and crept down the stairs. Nick still slept, but she found Aaron with his back to her as he filled a glass with water in the kitchen. The food from her bag stretched across the island counter: boxes of granola bars next to boxes of crackers, then peanut butter and jelly, bread, and finally bananas and apples.
Aaron turned and a smile spread across his face. “Hey, long time no see.”
“I guess I slept through most of yesterday.” She pulled out a stool and sat down in front of the food.
“Nick told me you ate lunch then fell asleep talking to him.” He crossed the room and placed his glass on the counter before touching the back of his hand to her forehead. “No fever. I declare you one hundred percent healthy.” He smiled and sat down on the stool next to her.
Sun streamed through the window, glinted off the toaster and brightened pale yellow walls. She pulled a granola bar from a blue-and-white box then peeled the wrapper back. “That’s a relief. Did you catch any fish yesterday?”
His eyes lit up, changing to a brighter shade of blue. “No, but today is going to be the day. Even better, the grill out back works and there’s fuel in the garage. None of us are going to Austin for a few weeks until things calm down.”
She nodded and took a bite of her granola bar. Chocolate chips melted in her mouth and slid over her tongue like silk. “I never want to go back to Austin again, but I can’t stay here. I have to keep moving. I think the train is my best bet to get north.”
“You can stay for a week or two. By then Austin will be in fever recovery, they’ll repair the tracks, and I’ll walk to the train station with you.”
Lareina smiled. She felt safe at the house with people who cared about her health and her plans. Couldn’t she let herself pretend she had a family? Just for a week? “That makes sense.”
“Would you mind helping Nick out with gathering some fruits and vegetables? We’ll get tired of eating just fish, and he didn’t have much luck finding anything yesterday.”
She hesitated. “Have you seen anyone around outside?”
“Not one person since we’ve been here.” He picked up an apple, tossed it from one hand to the other, then set it down on the counter. “Is it true that you’re a fugitive?”
The granola bar wrapper crinkled softly as she folded it over and over between her fingers. “There’s a detective trying to find me.”
Instead of the fearful reaction she expected, he just tilted his head, eyes narrowing slightly. “What does he think you did?”
She unfolded the wrapper and began to pull it apart one section at a time. Aaron didn’t suspect her of a violent crime. If anything, he acted curious. She felt the pendant against her skin and pulled the neckline of her shirt up to ensure that it remained hidden.
“I guess I just took something from the wrong person.”
The hallway floor creaked, announcing Nick’s entrance.
“Good morning, guys.” He pushed a flap of blond hair away from his eyes, walked to the other side of the counter, and pulled the loaf of bread and peanut butter across to him. He tried to spread peanut butter on a slice of bread while simultaneously shaking hair out of his eyes, making his companions laugh. Finally he walked over to the sink, and slicked it back with water.
“You need a haircut or a headband,” Lareina joked.
He took a bite of his breakfast. “Yeah, one or the other.”
Aaron walked to the door and pulled a khaki fishing hat from a hook on the wall. “Are you going to find some food today, Nick? I mean something that’s actually edible?”
“Count on it.” He replied as if he’d been challenged to a free throw contest. A smile brightened his face. “Are you going to catch any fish?”
After opening the door and stepping out, Aaron stuck his head back inside. “So many we won’t be hungry for days.”
“You aren’t planning on leaving here today?” Nick stumbled over a hidden branch, but maintained his balance. He led the way to an area he had found at the end of his foraging the day before that he thought would be promising.
Lareina pretended not to notice. “I can wait a week or two, but not any longer. You’ll want to go and find Ava soon too, before winter comes.”
Absentmindedly, he rubbed a hand across the stitches on his forehead then pushed his hair out of his eyes. “That’s a fruit tree, right?” He pointed off to the right then hurried in that direction.
Holding up one hand to shield her eyes from the sun, she spotted an eight-foot tree straining under the weight of hundreds of round purple fruits.
“It’s a plum tree,” she shouted.
By the time she caught Nick, he had already pulled ten plums from a branch and placed them in his canvas tote bag.
“Don’t fill your bag all the way. We can always come back for more.”
He took a bite of the plum in his hand. “Should we keep walking this way?”
“Yeah, I think this tree is a good sign.”
The two of them continued for another quarter mile into an area with thick tree cover. Lareina shuffled her feet forward with her eyes on the trees, watching for familiar leaves.
“There, that one.” She walked up to the tree and placed her hand against its trunk. Fruit with a skinny neck and rounded bottom dangled about five feet above her head.
Nick turned in circles with his head tilted all the way back. “What is it?”
“Don’t tell me you’ve never seen pears.”
“I’ve never seen pears.” He reached an arm above his head then jumped toward the lowest fruit, but his fingers didn’t even graze the bottom. “How are we going to get them down?”
“Can you catch?”
“Yeah, but . . .”
Wrapping her hands around the lowest branch, she braced her feet against the trunk and hoisted herself into the tree. Leaves brushed her face as lightly as butterflies and a feeling of freedom swept through her.
“Don’t climb too high,” he shouted from below. “Aaron doesn’t have the supplies to fix a broken arm.”
She pulled a pear off the tree and dropped it into open air. The fruit plummeted and plopped to the ground in front of Nick’s shoes.
“I wasn’t ready yet. Try again.”
Lareina rolled her eyes, glad he couldn’t see her. “All right, here it comes.” She dropped another pear. Nick took a few steps forward and it landed directly in his hands.
The pear collection became a game requiring Nick to dart around under the tree and catch falling fruit, sometimes two at a time, until he collapsed out of breath. “All right, Rochelle. The bag is getting heavy. You can come down now.”
Balancing in a fork, high up in the tree, she looked between leaves at a landscape dotted with trees and bright clusters of wildflowers. “Are you sure you don’t want to come up? You should see this.”
“Maybe next time. I have to get back with this stuff before Aaron gets back with the fish or he gets to start the next game of Battleship.”
She descended a few branches, then swung herself down in front of him. “That would be tragic. We better go.” Grinning, she brushed imaginary dust from her jeans.
Nick laughed and picked up the bag full of fruit. They walked back to the house, taking a different route to scout out areas for future foraging. The trees faded behind them and swaying grass enveloped them just as it swallowed houses, fences, and sidewalks. Keeping her eyes on her feet to avoid tripping over a hidden root or tangle of brush, she at first ignored the few plants embedded in the grass. Thick stems with rounded leaves became more numerous, poking up through the rising and falling green ocean. She stopped, crouched down, and held a leaf in her hand
to get a better look. Following the row, she spotted plants on the edge with brown, shriveling leaves.
“What are you doing?” He turned to watch her.
“This must have been someone’s garden once. I think I found potatoes.”
“I will definitely win if I bring potatoes back. Where are they exactly?” he asked, crouching down next to her.
“They grow underground.” She couldn’t stifle her laugh.
Nick looked over at her with his head tilted as if waiting for her to declare it all a joke. “How do you know this stuff?’
For a second, her mind carried her back to a summer afternoon in Maibe. She pictured Mrs. Aumont’s tiny backyard garden, produce of every kind growing in the fenced in square.
She smiled at him and shrugged. “I read a lot.”
“I’m glad you paid attention. I guess we better start digging.”
Lareina wiggled her shoe into the mushy ground. “We need a shovel.”
“There’s no time for that.” He knelt down next to one of the plants and pushed mud to the side with his hands, piling it up on either side of the plant. His hair flopped over his eyes and he pushed it back with grimy fingers.
“You’re getting all dirty.”
“I’ll take a shower later. Are you going to help or not?”
Muck enveloped the tip of her shoe and she cringed. “I’ll hold the bag since I already picked pears and everything.”
“Fair enough.” He reached into his newly dug hole, pulled a potato out of the ground, and held it up. Tiny and pathetic, but a potato nonetheless.
“Who needs the city,” Nick exclaimed when their feet returned to concrete. He was filthy from digging potatoes but still laughing and joking. “We could live off the land forever.”
She wanted to point out that he didn’t know potatoes grew underground and wouldn’t have been able to tell the difference between a pear tree and an oak tree without her help, but instead she smiled. They carried a bulging bag through overgrown lawns to the back of the house where Aaron worked to scrub gunk out of a rusted grill.
“How many fish did you catch?” Nick called from across the yard.
Aaron looked up. “Five.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “Your bag looks a lot heavier than yesterday.”
“We have pears and plums.” Lareina nodded her head toward Nick. “And potatoes.”
He pushed his hair back and held his grimy hands up, palms out. “I dug them with my bare hands. It took hours, and Rochelle didn’t help.” He feigned exhaustion and flopped onto the deck.
She hauled the bag up three stairs and let it rest next to his head. With her hands on her hips, she shook her head. He grinned up at her, his bruise and stitches invisible beneath layers of dirt, his hair sprawled around his head like the rays of a cartoon sun.
Aaron smiled. “That’s amazing. We’ll have a feast tonight.” Nick put one hand under his head. “When is supper, anyway?”
“Go take a shower.” She took his other hand and pulled him into a sitting position. “Then I’ll cut your hair. Then we’ll have supper.”
He stood and took a few steps toward the door. “Can I trust you to cut my hair?”
“You haven’t regretted trusting me so far.”
Nick pulled the door open. “You have a point.”
“And look at the bright side. It can’t get any worse than it is now.”
He scrunched his nose, stuck his tongue out, and disappeared into the house.
Lareina hauled all of the food inside and rinsed it in the sink before lining it up on the counter next to their few remaining supplies from the city. More bread and some eggs would be nice, but she had no intention of going back. It took her ten minutes to find a comb and scissors—bathroom, third floor—and by the time she got back outside, Nick was already there helping Aaron with the grill.
A comfortable breeze spread the fragrance of flowers and enough sun filtered through trees to brighten the backyard. She rested her arms on the deck railing and looked out at waist-high grass that lapped at a wooden fence. Spindly weeds grew tall and thick through every crack of a cement pad next to a rotting garden shed. Vines climbed over the shed, up the side of the deck, and all the way to the top of the house. It was only a matter of time before this house, like the rest, succumbed to nature.
Nick and Aaron talked to each other and the grill squeaked and groaned every time they moved it, but all of that faded to background noise. Closing her eyes, she slid back in time. The swaying grass became a trimmed green carpet and the garden shed, freshly painted white with blue trim, stood wide open to reveal a lawn mower and rakes inside. Lilacs lined the back fence and a trampoline filled all space on the cement pad. A family—parents and four children—sat on the deck, eating ice cream, laughing, and enjoying a typical summer evening before typical vanished forever.
Were they in the city, hiding from the fever? Did they sleep in a cramped house with relatives in the country? Were they alive?
“That’s it. That’s it. It’s working,” Aaron whooped.
Jolted back to reality, she turned in time to see the boys high five in front of small flames that flickered inside the grill.
Nick noticed the scissors in her hands and obediently walked toward her. “When is the last time you gave someone a haircut?”
Closing one eye and tapping a finger against the side of her face, she pretended to think about it. “Um, never.”
He sank down onto the bottom step. “Well, that’s encouraging.”
“If Nick doesn’t have any bald spots when you’re done, you can cut my hair too,” Aaron joked.
Lareina sat down two steps above Nick. He flinched when the scissors snipped through the first bunch of hair.
“Hold still, or you are going to have bald spots.” She continued bit by bit, trimming the hair at the back of his neck, over his ears, across his forehead and then at the top of his head. When she finished, she stepped in front of him, drew in a sharp breath, and clapped a hand over her mouth.
“What?” His wide eyes darted between Lareina and Aaron watching with amusement from his place in front of the grill. “Is it really bad?” He jumped up and bent low enough to see his reflection in the porch windows. Leaning his head one way then the other, he slid his hand back over his hair. “It looks good, like the way it used to. Why . . .”
When he turned around, all three of them burst out in the carefree laughter that leads to watering eyes and stomach aches.
“She . . . got you . . . Nick,” Aaron gasped out between bouts of laughter.
The rest of the evening passed that way. They feasted on a delicious meal, laughed, joked, told stories of the best times they could remember, and when all light faded from the sky, they retreated to the living room where Lareina read a book and the boys continued their Battleship tournament.
Their days continued in similar fashion. Aaron went fishing. Lareina and Nick scoured the neighborhood for food. They returned to the places they already knew then continued further. They found wild berry bushes and the remains of gardens filled with clusters of tomato plants, giant zucchini, and hidden onions. They ate breakfast together, snacked through lunch, then ate supper on the deck. Those were rare days of contentment, free of worry and fear.
One rainy day a week into their stay, Lareina sat in the living room, her elbow on the windowsill. A dull glow from outside barely lit the room enough for her to decode words in The Book of Conversation Starting Questions she’d pulled from the shelf.
Aaron rested with his elbows against the floor, his chin propped on his hands as he studied a medical book he’d discovered in the attic.
Nick sprawled across the couch, his head hanging off the cushion so he got an upside down view of the room. “We’ve been sitting here for hours. I’m so bored.”
“Read a book,” Aaron suggested. “There are plenty of them here.”
Nick pulled his head back onto the couch but didn’t make an effort to move any further.
“What was your childhood hobby?” She lowered the book and laughed at the questioning looks on the boys’ faces. “I have a book of conversation starters here, I might as well make use of it.”
“Fishing,” Aaron volunteered. “But you guys probably already guessed that. I used to go every day. My mom would get mad because I would sneak out before I washed the dishes or took out the trash.”
Nick rolled over onto his stomach. “I played baseball every day there wasn’t snow on the ground. I even tried to play in the house once, but I broke my mom’s favorite lamp.” He cringed at the memory. “I thought I would play baseball in college, but I guess that won’t be happening.”
A silence descended on the room, magnifying the thtock, thtock of a clock in the hall and raindrops splashing against the window.
“What about you Rochelle?” Aaron asked. “What kept you entertained ten years ago.”
“I don’t know.” Her life was a maze of chores, cold basements, hot attics, and constantly moving to a new place. Did she ever have spare time? What did she do with it? “I guess I liked to play with locks. When I was six or seven years old, I found a padlock on the ground and finally got it open two weeks later. I would lock my bag to the leg of my bed so the other kids at the Home for Children wouldn’t drag it off and take my stuff while I slept.”
“You have to have something happier than that.”
“Nick,” Aaron warned.
“No, he’s right.” She wanted a real story, a good memory like baseball and fishing. “I tried sewing once. My friend was really good at it. She could make dresses out of old jeans and curtains.” The memory made her smile. “I made a square pillow with crooked stitching.”
Nick beamed. “All right, now we’re getting somewhere. What’s the next question?”
She pulled the book close to her face and squinted at the small font. “What is your greatest fear?”
“Definitely spiders,” Nick exclaimed. “They bite, they jump out from dark corners, and they crawl across your face while you sleep.”
Hope for the Best Page 9