Last Breath

by Brandilyn Collins

  “Shaley.”

  I faced her, my expression accusing.

  “I had to tell him.”

  I shivered. Had it gotten colder in here? “Had to tell him what? That I just won’t leave you alone about my own dad?”

  Mom’s eyebrows drew together. “I didn’t say that. Ross came to his own conclusions. I just told him about what I know of your father.”

  “Hooray for Ross, hearing it all before me.”

  “He didn’t hear everything. Just the basics. You, I want to hear it all.”

  I rubbed a hand across my forehead. “Well, now’s as good a time as any.” My voice edged, but I didn’t care. I was so tired of this.

  “Come on over and sit down.”

  As I crossed to the chair, Mom sighed. “I’m so sad about the tour.”

  “Me too.”

  I sat down, glancing at the clock. “Your lunch should be here soon.”

  “Oh, joy. More hospital food.” She licked her lips. “What about yours?”

  “I’ll get something from the cafeteria.”

  “You can’t go down there alone.”

  Air seeped up my throat. “Is this how it’s going to be the rest of my life, Mom? Can’t even go down an elevator in a hospital by myself?”

  “No. Not forever. Just … until we get this sorted out.”

  Great. And if the police didn’t find Gary Donovon, then what?

  I dropped into the chair. “So tell me—what made him go bad? What happened between you two?”

  Part 6

  Rayne 1992

  21

  What happened? I’ll tell you. It started with one niggling question that grew and grew in my mind: why wouldn’t Gary ever allow me to go to his house?

  By mid-April we’d been dating for over four months and really loved each other. Every chance we had, we’d be together. In the halls between classes, before and after school. Gary worked a lot, but he’d drive me home before returning to his own house to change into work clothes. On weekends after he got off work, Gary would come to my house, either to hang out there or pick me up to go out with friends.

  And at least twice a month, a white rose, wrapped in green cello phane and tied with a red ribbon, would be delivered to my door. In it would be a note, always the same.

  “You are my white rose. I love you. Gary.”

  We talked about everything—except the one thing that ultimately would matter. Gary knew my deepest secrets. He knew about my longing to be a singer. The loneliness I felt over not having a father, or brothers and sisters. For all my popularity at school and my large group of friends, that loneliness could sometimes overwhelm me. When I had an argument with a girlfriend or my mom, Gary was there to listen. He’d let me talk it out, wait for me to calm down, then often say just the right thing I needed to hear. I learned to trust his insights.

  For his part, Gary talked to me about his worries over his grandmother’s health and his plans to study psychology in college. He told me about his distrust of the popular crowd at school, which is why he’d held back from talking to me for so long. He tended to view such people as fake and shallow. I had to admit, with some people, he was right. But as he got to know me and my friends, he saw us more for what we really were—struggling, trying to make sense of the world, just like everyone else.

  Still, there was a big piece of Gary I couldn’t reach—his private life with his grandmother. No matter how I tried, how many questions I asked, he would not let me in.

  At first I pouted that he was ashamed of me. “Don’t want your grandma Donovon to see me, huh? What am I, too ugly? Too fat?”

  “You know you’re the most beautiful thing on earth,” he’d reply, and kiss my questions away.

  By February I’d decided his grandmother didn’t exist. He lived alone, and he’d made her up so I wouldn’t feel sorry for him. The pictures he’d shown me of a sweet-faced, gray-haired woman were of some lady who lived down the street.

  The first time I told Gary my theory, he laughed. “Rayne, you sure can be crazy sometimes.”

  But he still wouldn’t take me to his house.

  I would be turning sixteen in early May, which meant I’d finally get my driver’s license. My mom had promised me her old Nissan. She was going to buy a new car. Well, used, but new to her. “Wait till I get my own car,” I teased Gary one Saturday night as we drove away from my house. “I just might go see your grandmother on my own while you’re at work.”

  Gary tensed. “Why do you keep coming back to my grandmother?”

  “Maybe because I’ve never met her? I’ve never once seen your house?”

  His lips firmed into a tight line. Suddenly, driving down a familiar street required his most rapt attention.

  I folded my arms. “So what do you think? Will she like me?”

  “Rayne.” His voice hardened. “Don’t go by my house. Ever.”

  I stared at him. He had never spoken to me in such a harsh tone. “Why? You know everything about me, Gary Donovon. You’ve seen my house and my mother a million times, and she loves you to death. You say you love me. But you won’t even let me meet the one other important person in your life. Just what are you hiding? For all I know, you’ve got a wife at home.”

  “Don’t be stupid.”

  “Well, what am I supposed to think?”

  “You’re supposed to trust me.”

  “Trust you with what, Gary? To not give me answers? Not tell me the truth?”

  He gripped the steering wheel. “Trust me when I say there’s good reason to keep you away.”

  Maybe I should have been more understanding. But after four months of this, I was just plain frustrated. “Fine. I will trust you. Just tell me the reason.”

  “Rayne, I don’t—”

  “Tell me, Gary!”

  He smacked his palm against the wheel. “Why do we have to go into this now? We’re headed to a party, I’ve worked all day. Why can’t we just have a good time?”

  “Because this isn’t just ‘now,’ that’s why. You’ve been hiding something from me ever since we started dating. And no matter how much I pour my heart out to you, you still hold back. You want to know how that makes me feel? Like you don’t care about me enough to think I’ll understand.”

  A light in front of us turned red. Gary braked hard. He wouldn’t look at me.

  Okay. I’d had it. “Gary, if you don’t tell me right now, you can just take me home.”

  His eyes narrowed. The line of his jaw turned to granite. “Fine, Rayne.” His shoulders dropped. When he spoke again, his voice was thick with resignation. “Maybe I just should then.”

  Fear for him stabbed through my anger. I’d never heard him sound so depressed. I touched his shoulder. “Please tell me. What is it?”

  He focused on the light. It turned green. He hit the accelerator.

  I sat twisted in his direction, not taking my eyes off him. And I wouldn’t stop staring until he answered my question.

  Gary sighed. “My neighborhood’s … not safe.”

  “What do you mean?”

  He shook his head. “There are some nasty people living around me.”

  I processed this. “Then why do you live there?”

  “It’s my grandmother’s home. There’s no place else to go.”

  “Why don’t you sell it and move somewhere else?”

  His face darkened. “Rayne, drop it, okay? You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “I was just—”

  “I said drop it!”

  I turned away and slammed back against my seat. Anger wafted from me in waves. We simmered all the way to the party, not saying a word to each other. All evening we stayed on opposite ends of the room, talking to other people.

  The ride back to my house was quiet.

  We didn’t make up for four days.

  After that, for the next three weeks until I got my license and car, we talked and hung out, trying to be with each other like before. But thi
ngs weren’t the same. You’ve heard the saying about the elephant in the room no one will talk about? That’s what it felt like. This giant thing sat between us—and neither of us wanted to face it. But I knew we couldn’t last this way. I felt cut to the core that he wouldn’t tell me what was wrong.

  As the days wore on, that hurt turned to doubt. If Gary couldn’t trust me with this, why should I trust him? Maybe he was involved in something he didn’t want me to know about.

  Sometimes even now I wonder what would have happened if I hadn’t taken matters into my own hands. If only I could have seen the future then. Maybe everything would have turned out differently.

  But of course, I had no crystal ball. And so, burning with the need to know, after my sixteenth birthday I did exactly what Gary warned me never to do. Armed with my new license, behind the wheel of my Nissan, I drove to his house one Saturday while he was at work.

  22

  I only meant to drive by Gary’s house. Just to get a feel for things.

  He’d said the neighborhood wasn’t “safe.” At first it didn’t seem that way to me as I cruised the nearby streets. The houses were small and wooden, probably with two to three bedrooms. Older. Lawns weren’t full of weeds, but neither were they perfectly groomed. I saw plenty of trees and bushes. Lots of cars parked in driveways and at the curb.

  It didn’t hit me until I was on Gary’s street: this should be an area full of children. But I didn’t see one toy in a front yard, or bikes lying on the sidewalks.

  Gary’s address was number 423. On my right the houses at 413, 415, 417 drifted by. Three doors up I spotted his house, painted off-white with teal trim. A compact front porch with three steps. It looked well-kept and was the only house around with flowers in the yard.

  On her knees, weeding in those flower beds, was Gary’s grandmother.

  I recognized her immediately—the curly gray hair and round, pleasant face. She worked slowly but with deliberate movements, as if the task was a challenge she enjoyed. I knew she’d been weak a lot lately from her heart. It was surprising she was outside at all.

  Automatically I slowed, drinking in the sight of her through my open passenger window. In person she looked even more friendly and kind than in her pictures. I wanted to know her. I wanted her to know me.

  She looked up as I rolled by—and our eyes met.

  Surprise flicked across her brow. One hand, holding a trowel, rose. “Rayne?”

  My foot poised above the brake.

  For a split second I stared at her, heart pounding. She must have seen pictures of me. Now what? I couldn’t just drive on and ignore her. But if she told Gary I’d been here …

  I pulled over to the curb and put the car in park. The next thing I knew I was on the pavement, walking toward her with a smile plastered on my face. Did she know I wasn’t supposed to be here?

  “My goodness, Rayne.” Grandma Donovon dropped her gardening tool and struggled to her feet. “What a nice surprise.” She started toward me on gimpy legs. “Oh, my.” She shook her head. “I’ve been kneeling too long.”

  “Hi.” I reached a hand out to her, my smile stretching to genuine. “It’s so good to finally meet you.” She couldn’t have been over five feet tall. I could feel the warmth emanating from her tiny frame.

  Grandma Donovon batted away my hand and reached for a hug instead. “And it’s wonderful to meet you.” She gripped me hard, then stepped back, looking me over with her chocolate-brown eyes. “You’re even prettier in person. Didn’t think that could be possible. Although Gary’s told me it’s true.”

  I laughed, feeling self-conscious. And guilty. Gary had been bragging about me—and here I was, showing up on his doorstep behind his back.

  For an awkward moment Grandma Donovon and I stared at each other, as if she read my mind.

  Her gaze flicked next door, then across the street. I followed her glances but saw no one. She smiled again and wiped her brow. “What brings you here? Gary’s at work, you know.”

  I pulled my bottom lip between my teeth. “Oh. Yeah. I thought so, but … I drove by just in case I’d see his truck …”

  My words ran out. Grandma Donovon nodded, but her eyes clouded. She knew I was lying. Unspoken emotions vibrated between us. From me, curiosity—what had Gary been hiding? From her—fear.

  Why would she be afraid?

  At the next house over a screen door squeaked. Grandma Donovon’s eyes snapped toward it. A guy maybe twenty-five years old slouched through the door and down two steps to the scruffy yard. His cold stare fixed on Grandma Donovon. He wore baggy jeans with holes in the knees and a faded blue T-shirt. His blond hair scraggled to his shoulders in wild dreadlocks. Behind him trailed two more guys about the same age, one with short dark hair and another with a totally shaved head. Everything about the three of them, from their hard faces to the cocky way they moved, reeked of hate and evil.

  They lined up on their sidewalk, legs apart, arms folded—and stared at us.

  I gawked back at them, feeling hairs rise on the back of my neck. I wanted to run to the car but couldn’t begin to move.

  “Rayne.” Grandma Donovon’s voice dropped to a forced calm. “I think you’d better—”

  “Well, now.” Dreadlocks let out a low whistle aimed at me. “Who do we have here?”

  My breath shallowed. I glanced nervously at Grandma Donovon, seeking a cue. I couldn’t just walk away from this. Somehow I sensed she’d pay.

  “Just a friend, Bart.” Grandma Donovon tried to sound nonchalant but failed. “She was just leaving.” Her eyes cut to me, two high spots of color on her cheeks. Go, her expression warned.

  “No she ain’t.” Bart started a slow saunter toward us, hands sliding into his pockets. As if he had all the time in the world to get to us, knowing we wouldn’t dare move. “I got to see this vision of beauty up close.” The two other guys trailed behind him.

  My veins chilled. I pulled both arms across my chest, watching them draw near me like I was some trapped animal. By the time Bart stood on Grandma Donovon’s sidewalk, mere feet away, my insides shook.

  Bart’s mouth twisted into a smile. “I like this.” His eyes dropped down the length of me, then slowly rose back to my face. He nodded. “Yeah. I like this very much.”

  His friends grunted and grinned, enjoying my fear.

  Bart rocked back on his heels. “You a friend of Gary’s?”

  My tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth. Grandma Donovon stepped in front of me. “Leave her alone, Bart.”

  He snorted. “Oh, what, Granny, you gonna make me stop?”

  Her mouth pressed tight. “You’ve got no business with her, she was just driving by.” She turned to me firmly. “Good-bye.”

  “No, no.” Bart swiped out his hand and caught my arm. His palm felt hot.

  I yanked away. Who did these guys think they were? “Let go of me!”

  Bart’s expression blackened. One side of his mouth curled up, his eyes slitting. “Don’t you know I own this neighborhood?” He jerked his head toward Baldy. “Go get her license plate.”

  Air hissed between Grandma Donovon’s teeth. Baldy strode toward my car, pulled a small notebook and pen from his deep front pocket, and jotted down the plate. He sauntered back and handed the paper to Bart.

  “There ya go.” Bart read it over then stuck it in his pocket. He aimed a slow smile at Grandma Donovon and me. “You can go now, Blondie. We got your plate. Soon we’ll know—”

  An engine gunned on the street. We all turned toward it to see Gary in his truck, hunched over the wheel and teeth clenched. My heart sank to my toes. What was he doing home so early?

  Gary surged into the driveway and screeched to a stop. He got out of his truck and slammed the door. He walked toward us stiffly, fear and determination and protectiveness tightening his face.

  Bart sniggered. He no longer had to question how I knew Gary.

  “What’s going on?” Gary drew up, lasering me with an accusing look—now you’ve
done it. He turned suspicious eyes on Bart.

  “Nothin’, man.” Bart shrugged. “Just getting to know your girlfriend. Oh.” He pulled the piece of paper from his pocket. “And writing this down.” He flashed the license plate number at Gary. “In case you give us any trouble.”

  Gary’s jaw worked back and forth. His fingers curled toward his palms. For a minute nobody moved.

  Across the street a door banged. Four guys, a little older than the three around us, filed out, brewing with menace. “You got trouble over there?” one of them called.

  “Nah.” Bart gave me a smile that turned my stomach. “We’re just gettin’ acquainted with Gary’s girlfriend.”

  “Oh. Didn’t know he had one.” The guy laughed, and Bart chuckled with him.

  Goosebumps skittered down my arms. What had I done by coming here?

  The four across the street milled in their yard, watching us. Lewd comments drifted across the pavement.

  Gary glared at me. “Go home.” His voice could have cut steel.

  My lips parted, but no words came. If I left—then what? The guys all looked like they were aching to jump Gary and beat him up. Seven to one. Strong as he was, he couldn’t possibly stand up to that.

  Gary ground his teeth. “Go.” He dug fingers into my elbow and pushed me toward my car.

  Heart in my throat, I swiveled and scurried down the sidewalk. The guys across from us whistled and catcalled. For a terrifying minute I thought they would come over and surround me. I yanked open my car door, slipped inside, and slammed down the locks.

  My hands shook as I turned the key in the ignition.

  As I drove away I peered into the rearview mirror and saw Bart all up in Gary’s face, shaking a finger at him and ranting. The two guys near him—and the four across the street—watched, sneering. Gary just stood there, taking it, one hand clutching his grandmother’s shoulder.

  Panic washed over me. How could I leave him? What if they did beat him up?

  My foot lifted from the accelerator, reaching for the brake.