Promises to Keep

by Susan Crandall

  Molly tried to focus on the immediate problem. She wracked her brain, trying to think of places she would have gone when she was a teenager and mad with her dad. Suddenly she realized, impossible as it seemed, she had never felt the need to run and hide, even through those turbulent adolescent years. She and Dad might have huffed and stomped at one another, they might have had fire shooting out of their nostrils, but they always locked horns and stuck with it until the issue was resolved. It was probably because they were both too stubborn to be the first to walk away. At least that had been true until she arrived in town with Nicholas. Molly had walked away then, she realized now, because she was trying to ignore the fear that she was doing the wrong thing.

  She took off her jacket and sat down at the kitchen table, hoping for a call saying Riley had arrived back at home, safe and sound. If he didn’t show up by nightfall, they had a problem.

  She heard Mickey softly singing to Nicholas in the bedroom and her heart turned to dust. Once Nicholas was gone from her life—would she stay here? It didn’t seem to matter; life was going to be bleak and painful wherever she was. Perhaps Dean wouldn’t damn her with bitter punishment. Maybe he would even allow her to visit; perhaps she could become Nicholas’s favorite “aunt.” It would be better than having him ripped from her forever.

  Most likely she was headed to jail, or probation with immediate revocation of her medical license.

  Molly had her face buried in her hands when she heard Mickey come back into the kitchen.

  The girl put a hand on Molly’s shoulder. “Are you okay?”

  Molly raised her face with a weak smile and patted Mickey’s hand. “Yeah.” Then she sighed and picked up her purse. “I’ll go ahead and pay you.”

  Mickey sat down at the table. “No.”

  “I can’t ask you to come over here for nothing.”

  Mickey gave a dismissive wave. “I love being with Nicholas. Besides I didn’t do anything.”

  “Anyone ever tell you you’re a great kid?”

  “Not recently.”

  Molly had meant it as a light comment, but Mickey’s response was anything but light.

  Molly said, “Sometimes it’s hard with mothers and daughters. I didn’t have a mom, so I didn’t actually go through it myself. But my dad and I sure went some rounds.”

  With a slight lift of the shoulder, Mickey said, “I know Mom loves me. She just doesn’t get me.” She concentrated on twisting the silver ring she wore on her right hand.

  “Mothers want the best for their children; your mom just sees things differently than you do. Someday you’ll find a way to make things work between you.”

  Mickey’s sigh tore at Molly’s already bleeding heart. “I hope so. Maybe it’ll be better after I move away.”

  Molly tilted her head. “You’re set on leaving here?”

  “Oh yeah!” There was no room for doubt in that answer.

  Molly said, “It’s important that you do what you think is best for yourself—not what others want for you.” Then she gave a dry chuckle. “But I think you’ve already figured that out. You’re miles ahead of the game.”

  Mickey sat in silence for a moment, then she asked, “Do they think Riley ran away?”

  “I don’t think so. He didn’t take anything with him. He just needed to be alone. But I wish he’d told his mom, she’s worried sick.”

  Mickey took the salt shaker and turned it in a slow circle. “Did they check with—Codi Craig?”

  “I think Clay’s covered most of his friends. Lily said he’s looked everywhere.”

  After a moment’s hesitation, Mickey looked into Molly’s eyes and said, “Not everywhere.”

  “Do you have an idea where Riley could be?” Hope sparked in her chest.

  The girl hesitated. “Maybe.”

  “Well, tell me and I’ll call Lily.” Molly started for the phone.

  Mickey looked pensive.

  “What?” Molly stopped and looked at her. “Why can’t you tell me?”

  “It’d be a breach of trust.”

  Molly recognized the steadfast resolve in Mickey’s eyes. It reminded her of herself. She tried anyway. “Mickey, really, you need to tell me.”

  With a shake of her head, Mickey said, “I’ll go and see if he’s there. Maybe I can talk him into going home.”

  “What if you can’t? His parents need to know where he is.”

  “If he’s there, he’s perfectly safe. I’ll tell his mother that.”

  Molly pushed her car keys across the table toward Mickey. “Take my car.”

  All through the dark hours, beginning sometime after the vodka had released its disorienting hold, Dean’s mind had swung from one problem to the other and back again. Even as each thought had stampeded over the other, Molly had dominated his mind. It made him ashamed that he’d spent more of the night trying to figure out how to cultivate her forgiveness, how to win back her trust, than he had on pondering his sister’s death.

  He had watched a dazzling pink sunrise from the narrow pier that jutted out from the shore. Before his eyes, the lake had transformed from cold black to deep purple. Then the water caught the pink fire from the sky. At that point, he’d finally gone to bed.

  Now it was mid-afternoon. He awakened with a rolling stomach and splitting head. He forced himself to start moving. After he took a shower, he looked out the window and saw his car was missing.

  Suffering a brief moment of panic, he finally recalled Benny taking his keys and having someone—Dean couldn’t remember if it had been a man or a woman—drive him home.

  Now he had to fetch his car somehow. He certainly didn’t feel like hiking several miles with this throbbing head. So he went back to the living room and sat on the couch.

  He should really leave town today; go to New York and start backtracking Julie’s life prior to her disappearance. There had to be clues that her friends and the overworked police had simply missed. The father of her baby was most likely a New Yorker. If he located that man, perhaps new light could be shed on the investigation.

  All that was logical, and still he couldn’t bring himself to pack his suitcase and make a flight reservation. Not until he saw Molly again.

  He dug around the kitchen cabinets and found an old phone book. He checked the Yellow Pages for a listing for a taxi service.

  Of course he didn’t find one. What did people around here do when they needed a ride somewhere?

  They called a neighbor or a friend. People here helped one another out.

  Well, Dean didn’t have many friends around here.

  He called Brian Mitchell and offered to buy him dinner at the Crossing House if he would come and get him. Brian agreed and said he’d be there around five-thirty. Dean decided he’d head over to Molly’s after that and see if she’d let him in the door.

  Then he put a call in to his investigator in Boston. Harry Amundson was three days overdue with his report. Which for Harry was still about four days shy of his normal tardiness. Dean had been in no particular hurry, as he’d already made his own personal assessment of Molly Boudreau. But if he was leaving town, he should see if Harry had happened to turn up anything of value. Besides, he was thinking of sending Harry up to New York City to get a head start on working up Julie’s last days there.

  Harry’s voice mail picked up. Dean left his message with a firm request for a call back today. Then he got out a tablet of paper and began to write down every last scrap of information he’d discovered about his sister.

  There wasn’t a safe place to park Dr. Boudreau’s car near the narrow path that led down to Blackwater Creek, so Mickey parked at Riley’s old summer house. She was careful to pull across the lawn and park on the lake side of the house, tucking the car in beside a huge spruce. If one of the adults saw the car, they might just figure out where to look. She couldn’t risk violating the sanctity of their secret place.

  Then she walked fifteen minutes to where the path cut into the woods. The sun was going down
, casting a brilliant orange glow in the western sky and letting the temperature begin a downward slide into night. It was even chillier as she made her way to the bottom of the ravine. She hadn’t brought gloves so she stuck her hands in her jacket pockets. If Riley was down here, he had to be freezing.

  As she followed the winding creek, butterflies began to flit around in her stomach. She’d been praying for something like this to happen, something dramatic and life-altering that would bring her and Riley back together. But now that something terrible had happened and Riley was suffering, she battled guilt over her selfishness.

  What if his words this morning asking to reestablish their friendship meant as little as she initially feared? As her feet slipped on the muddy bank she told herself that really didn’t matter. What mattered was making sure he was safe—and then putting his mother’s mind to rest, at least as far as his whereabouts were concerned.

  She hoped Riley would come back with her. If he refused, the parents were sure to put the screws to her to divulge where he was. She could never do that. This place would lose all of its healing power if people knew where to find them.

  What made her so sure he was here?

  Because I know him.

  Even though they’d been acting like strangers for over a year, she knew him inside and out. They’d formed a bond during that first summer and Mickey doubted it would ever truly be broken. If she’d really needed him, he would have come through—she just knew it in her heart. His attempt to apologize told her the bond was still there, buried beneath high school bullshit.

  There was no lingering twilight in November. It was rapidly getting dark. Why didn’t she bring the flashlight? As she’d left the house, Dr. Boudreau had shouted out the door that there was an emergency kit in the trunk of the car. Mickey had been so anxious to get to Riley, her common sense had deserted her. And now that flashlight was twenty minutes behind her.

  She caught her toe on a root and nearly fell on her nose. As she flailed her arms to save herself, she caught a branch and scraped it across her face just below her eye. It stung like a whip, but at least she hadn’t fallen into the creek. Taking a minute to calm herself, she decided she’d better slow her pace.

  Once she reached the base of the dam, the rushing water made it difficult to hear if anyone was nearby. It was very dark now and she didn’t relish the idea of veering away from the creek. But the place she and Riley shared was still fifty yards away. If she called for him, he might just step behind a tree and she’d never find him in the dark.

  She saw the white-barked sycamore that sat near the path that led to the stone outcropping where they used to hang out and started in that direction. It was difficult not to sound like a bear crashing through the brush as she felt her way along, but it couldn’t be helped. There was another sycamore, whose bark shone eerily in the darkness, just at the edge of the clearing. Mickey stopped and listened. Then she saw a tiny orange glow right about where the limestone shelf should be.

  She moved toward it, biting her tongue to keep from yelling at Riley for smoking.

  Suddenly the orange dot raised a couple of feet higher. Riley had either seen or heard her and stood up.

  “Riley, it’s Mickey.” Just then, she stepped on something that turned her ankle so hard her knee buckled and she saw stars. “Ouch! Oooohh.” She went down on one knee.

  “Mickey! Stay right there! Are you all right?”

  She heard him moving her way.

  “I twisted my ankle.”

  “Don’t put any weight on it. And don’t move.”

  Then he was beside her, with one arm around her waist, pulling her arm over his shoulder, helping her to stand. “Now, try it—not too much, easy.”

  The instant Mickey put the slightest pressure on that leg, bright white shafts of pain exploded from her ankle. It stole her breath, making her shout of pain no more than a hiss. She wiped her watering eyes with her free hand and forced in a deep breath before she passed out. “Ow! I think I broke it.”

  “All right.” He twisted as he looked around. “The cold water in the creek would probably be good for it.”

  “Probably, if I don’t freeze to death.”

  “Let’s get you set down someplace. If I support you, can you get over to the rock?”

  “Yes. But shouldn’t we be moving in the other direction?”

  “Mickey, you can’t think you’re going to walk out of here.”

  “Shit.” How could she have screwed up something as simple as coming here and finding him?

  “Come on.” He moved them toward the rock.

  By the time he lowered her to the ground beneath the outcropping, with her back against the exposed limestone, she’d broken into a sweat from the pain.

  “You should take your shoe off.”

  “I’ll never get it back on.”

  “You’re not going anywhere. Take it off, but leave your sock on.”

  She untied her shoelaces and loosened them. “I can’t pull it off without turning my ankle. Can you take it off for me?”

  He moved with reluctance, but he grasped her calf to support her leg and removed her shoe.

  She yelped.

  “Sorry,” he said softly.

  “Not your fault.” She leaned back against the cold stone again and blew out short breaths until the pain settled.

  He sat in front of her. “What are you doing out here?”

  “Looking for you.”

  “Why?” He sounded surprised.

  “Everybody’s looking for you. I was at your aunt’s when your mom called. I thought you might be here—but I didn’t want to tell anyone about this place. So I came to find you.”

  He spun around and leaned against the limestone beside her. He blew out a long, heavy breath. “So you know?”

  “Just that something that happened at home upset you.”

  He sat quietly for a minute.

  “You don’t have to tell me. I just wanted to make sure you’re all right.”

  After a moment, he said, “I want to tell you. You’re probably the only person now who will understand how I feel.”

  She wanted to say she had always been that person, but she let it lie.

  He finally said, “I just found out that Dad’s not my real father.”

  “Oh.” She didn’t dare say more.

  “Clay’s my father.”

  Mickey sat up straighter. “That’s interesting.”

  “It’s insane.”

  “No. It’s life. It can get real messy sometimes.” Her own was a perfect example.

  “I can’t understand why they didn’t tell me before.”

  “I imagine it wasn’t easy—plus there’s your dad and grandparents to tell, too. This could get really complicated.” She tried to say all this in a tone that didn’t condone what his mother had done, but maybe would open his eyes to the other side of the problem.

  “That’s what pisses me off the most. Dad knew. He’s always known.”

  “Hum. How about your grandparents?”

  “They say no one else knows. Mom even said Clay didn’t know until we moved here. They had some long involved story about them having a fight and Clay getting arrested, but Mom didn’t know where he was. Then she married Dad.”

  “So, what do you propose to do; live out here in the woods?”

  She felt him tense beside her. For a minute, she thought he was going to be mad, but he finally laughed. “God, I’ve missed you.”

  Mickey smiled, even though her ankle was throbbing.

  Riley said, “Actually, I was about to go home when you showed up. I just needed to be away from everyone for a while.”

  “You might have left a note.”

  “Okay, so maybe I wanted them to be upset.” He didn’t sound very sorry.

  “That’s very mature of you to admit,” Mickey said in her most school-counselorish voice.

  “Well, now we’ve got a real problem. I can carry you piggyback, but not in the dark without
breaking both of our necks.”

  “Don’t you have a cell phone?” she asked.

  “Yeah. I left it in the car. It wouldn’t work down here anyway.”

  “Maybe after I rest for a few minutes, I’ll be able to walk with your help.”

  “Again,” he sounded like he was trying to maintain patience with an uncomprehending child, “not in the dark without further broken bones.”

  “You should go back. Everyone is going to be crazy with both of us gone. You can come back for me with help.”

  “I’m not leaving you down here in the dark.”

  Mickey liked the way he said it with such firm commitment.

  But practicality forced her to say, “I don’t think there are any bears to worry about. Bigfoot is two thousand miles away. Nobody knows about this place. I’ll be perfectly safe.” If only she felt as confident of that as she tried to sound. The thought of being stuck down here alone in the dark with a bad leg gave her the creeps, big time.

  “Forget it.”

  “Where did you leave your car? Maybe someone will find it and come looking.”

  “Nope. It’s parked on a closed off access road to the lake. I put the chain back up after I drove in.” He put an arm around her and pulled her closer. “It’s just you and me . . . like old times.”

  Mickey wished with all of her heart that it was true.

  Dean spent an unusual dinner with Brian. He was having a difficult time keeping his mind on the conversation. He looked up at the door of the Crossing House every time someone new walked in. After he did it for the fifth time, he realized he was hoping Molly would show up.

  There was another problem. Every other sentence out of Brian’s mouth seemed to be about Molly—or Molly and Nicholas. It was getting on his nerves. He nearly asked Brian if he was interested in dating her. But he was afraid the answer might be yes.

  At seven-thirty, he and Brian parted company in the parking lot. Dean drove past Molly’s house, but her car wasn’t in the drive. He took the long way home, driving all the way around Forrester Lake. Brian’s interest in Molly had settled like a thistle thorn under his skin. Did Dean actually have any right to think the possessive thoughts he’d been having all evening? He was leaving, after all. Molly and Brian would live in this town for years. The thistle thorn became a sting weed. He didn’t even want to think the thought.