Amounting to Nothing

by Karis Walsh

  “I’m sorry,” Merissa said, her voice muffled against Billie’s shirt. “I need to understand what happened—why it happened—and there doesn’t seem to be any good way to get answers.”

  Billie knew she should tell Merissa that maybe she’d never find the answers she sought. And maybe the best she could hope for was to have whoever killed Dennis disappear from her life—no questions asked or answers given. Instead, she changed the subject.

  “I never could picture you living in this house, until I saw your rooms. Are you sleeping in what was meant to be the servant’s quarters?”

  Merissa laughed and sat up. She stayed close enough for Billie’s arm to remain over her shoulders, though. Close enough for her scent to seep into the deepest corners of Billie’s mind.

  “The nanny’s. I had a string of them even though I was thirteen when I came here to live. Most of them were nice, and I spent more of my time back with them than in the front rooms. They never stayed long, though, since Grandfather liked to pick fights. He said letting any help stay too long was inviting trouble because they’d get too close and learn family secrets.”

  “What were the secrets he was trying to hide?”

  Merissa shrugged, pressing against Billie’s side when she moved her shoulder. The feeling bruised Billie’s nerve endings, increasing the intensity of Merissa’s closeness. “I don’t think there were any. He was just a cantankerous old man who didn’t trust anyone.”

  “You’re not like him at all,” Billie said. Merissa might be questioning the motives of people in her life right now, given what had happened to her and Dennis, but she seemed to be caught by surprise by the doubts, not to be expecting them. She had a sincerity about her, an openness Billie envied. Lately, Merissa’s negative emotions of fear and frustration were readily seen on her face, but Billie suspected this wasn’t the case when her life was normal. She’d bet Merissa usually was an open book, but with optimism and kindness as the most prevalent and visible traits. “Do you take after your parents more than him?”

  “Yikes, I hope not.”

  Billie felt Merissa’s tension, but she didn’t pull away. “Tell me about them.”

  “Dad grew up with money and a lot of resentment. He never felt he lived up to my grandfather’s expectations, so he stopped trying—if he ever really tried in the first place—and turned into sort of a playboy. He traveled around the world with an entourage of hangers-on, and eventually fell in love with one of them. Or, according to my grandfather, he got one of them pregnant with me and then married her so he wouldn’t lose his inheritance. That’s my parents’ romantic love story.”

  Billie felt Merissa’s sigh roll through her. Merissa’s grandfather didn’t sound very kind, and her dad sounded like an entitled spoiled brat. She didn’t like to make judgments about people she didn’t know, but Merissa’s memories held tangible pain when she talked about them. No child, especially one as bright and loving as Merissa must have been, deserved to be told they were unwanted. She tried to look for a bright side to the story. “It sounds like you had a chance to travel more than most kids do. Where did you live when you were with your parents?”

  “All over Europe, but mostly Costa de la Luz in Spain and Aix-en-Provence in the south of France. My parents loved the sun, and they were beautiful places, but I was on my own a lot because they were either partying at night or sleeping it off during the day. I’d wander the streets while they were in bed. It sounds scary here in the States, but over there it was different. I made friends with the shop owners and street sweepers. The city was more home and family to me than the cottage where we lived or my own parents were.”

  “And now you create similar communities for people right here.” Billie had seen small indications of Merissa’s remembered loneliness. Imagining her as a little girl, left on her own, gave Billie a whole new perspective. Merissa wanted to create beautiful spaces, yes, but what she was hoping to provide was much deeper than the outward appearance of fancy condos or classy cafés. “Why did you decide to come live with your grandfather?”

  “I guess I had read too many books like Heidi . I pictured a loving family reunion when I came here, and I had a secret dream that my parents would miss me so much they’d come here, too. Grandfather and my dad would hug and forgive each other, and we’d all live happily ever after on this beautiful farm.”

  Billie felt cold inside at the way Merissa spoke. Her words were beautiful and painted a hopeful picture, but her delivery was flat and emotionless. “I take it they didn’t come live here?”

  “As far as I know, they’re still living off Grandfather’s money somewhere in Italy. But I made friends with the horses, and I was happy enough here.”

  Happy enough. Merissa deserved to be ecstatic. Joyful. Loved. Billie hoped she would find someone who could settle here and help her make it a real home instead of merely a big house with a handful of warm rooms.

  “What about you?” Merissa asked, pulling away from Billie’s arm and looking at her. “What was your childhood like?”

  Billie shrugged. She had started the conversation as a way to get Merissa’s mind off Dennis. She was flattered by Merissa’s trust in her as she shared the painful—and most likely private—story of her past, but she wasn’t sure how to respond. She rarely told anyone about her own life, choosing instead to listen to others more than she spoke. Most people were happier when they were talking about themselves, and Billie was comfortable letting them take center stage while she prompted from the sidelines.

  “I don’t know. My mom died when I was little, and my dad worked on a fishing boat. I lived in one town, but sort of moved around a lot.”

  Merissa watched her for a moment longer, obviously waiting for more of a revelation than Billie had given. She wasn’t sure how to continue, though. Her childhood led to the army, which led to Mike and her PTSD and her old wounds. Who wanted to hear any of that?

  Luckily, Abby and Carl came outside, and Billie jumped up to find out if they’d discovered anything in Merissa’s room. They hadn’t, as Billie had expected. Carl left, and Hargrove hauled Billie to one side by the collar of her shirt and delivered another stern lecture about keeping Merissa in line and obeying every law that had ever been written.

  Once they were alone, Merissa looked at the house with a pained frown.

  “Stay in the apartment with me tonight,” Billie said. “I’ll sleep on the sofa and you can have the bed. Don’t stay here, knowing someone was inside your room.” The violation was upsetting to her, and she could only imagine what Merissa must be feeling.

  “I guess I will,” Merissa said. “I can’t bear to be in there alone. Thank you.”

  Her words were polite, and she was accepting Billie’s offer of company and support, but something had changed. She had been sharing her story, opening herself up to Billie, and now there was a distinct and deep chasm between them. One full of ice water. And alligators. Billie felt her chest and neck grow hot when she pictured Merissa in the intimate little apartment with her, but Merissa’s tone and expression were cold. Billie didn’t know how to bridge the temperature gap between them.

  “I’ll get my things,” Merissa said. She started to walk up the stairs, but then stopped and faced Billie. “I forgot to mention it, but Cal called right before I noticed the photos. She wants me to fill in for a team member at a polo match this weekend. I usually take Jean-Yves with me to help me with the horses…”

  “I’ll go instead,” Billie said. Jean-Yves seemed like a good guy, but Billie didn’t know him well enough to be sure. He claimed he hadn’t seen anyone near the house today, but he was the one person who knew exactly when she and Merissa had left the property. Besides, she and Merissa needed to stick close together for the time being, until they found out who was responsible for switching the photos. “I’ll be your groom.”

  “Fine,” Merissa said, without a fight or a protest. She’d given up, and Billie wondered how much it had to do with her and her inability—or
unwillingness?—to share much about her life.

  It wasn’t until later, when Merissa had gone to bed and Billie was lying alone on the couch, that she started to understand what had happened between them. Merissa had given her a gift. The present of her past and her pain. Billie always thought the gift she gave other people was understanding and the freedom to talk about themselves, but Merissa hadn’t wanted that. She had wanted Billie to give something of herself as well, some part of her insides, her history, her scarred-over wounds.

  Billie wasn’t sure she’d ever be able to reciprocate that way. Just like she would never be the settled and stable woman to help create a home, she’d also never be the type to freely chat about her deepest parts. Sometimes she whispered stories to Ranger, but even he wasn’t given everything she had. Today on the steps, she had seen the disappointed expression on Merissa’s face before it was replaced with a more neutral one. She couldn’t bring herself to make it better, though. Merissa might think she wanted to hear about Billie, but did she really need to be burdened with her stories? Billie rolled over and faced the back of the couch, shutting her eyes and letting the world behind her disappear.

  Chapter Fifteen

  By the time Billie woke up the next morning, Merissa had already gotten dressed and snuck out of the apartment. Billie found her in the feed room, measuring breakfast rations for the horses.

  “Good morning,” Billie said. She felt tentative around Merissa, both because of the scare Merissa had the day before and because Billie wasn’t sure where they stood. She understood that Merissa had offered something of herself, and Billie hadn’t reciprocated. She hoped they would be able to move past the awkward moment and go back to their normal relationship—whatever that was. Billie hadn’t known Merissa long enough to have established anything normal with her, but she had been getting more comfortable in Merissa’s presence. This morning, she’d managed to convince herself that Merissa’s revelations had been prompted by circumstances, the illusion of closeness, not by real feelings. Billie had done the right thing by stopping the increasing intimacy when she had. If she had opened herself up to Merissa, they might have been fooled into believing they really had something between them. They might have been tempted to move forward in a more physical way. She had made the smart choice.

  Merissa turned at the sound of her voice. Billie thought she saw a fleeting hint of sadness or disappointment in her eyes, but it was gone in a flash, and Merissa’s smile was bright and genuine. She looked more rested and happy than she had since Billie had met her—she had only known Merissa in a semi-exhausted state, but some of her baggage seemed to have been shed this morning. She was wearing a ratty navy hoodie from McGill and tight jeans, and she looked fresh and outdoorsy and beautiful.

  Yeah. Billie was a fucking genius.

  “You look good,” she said. Her voice sounded a little breathless, even though she hadn’t done anything more physical than walk down a flight of stairs.

  “I slept great. I guess I’ve been kind of tense at night, with all the creaks and groans of a big empty house keeping me up, and it was nice to have someone in the other room.”

  “Mm-hmm. Nice,” Billie said, although she wouldn’t have chosen that word. She’d lain awake most of the night, too aware of Merissa only yards away in her warm bed. She’d been the composed one at the start of their relationship, and now they’d traded places. She felt worn-out and a little raw, and Merissa looked cool and relaxed.

  “I have something to do today,” she said, taking the bucket of feed from Merissa and carrying it to the stall Merissa pointed to. “I was going to cancel since we should stick together until the detectives figure out who was in your house, but if you’d like to get away from here for a change of pace, you’re welcome to come with me.”

  Merissa winced when Billie mentioned the break-in, but otherwise she seemed to be handling it well. “What kind of thing?” she asked, and then she waved off her own question. “Doesn’t matter. Yes, I’d like to get out of here for a while. This was supposed to be my safe place, but it isn’t anymore.”

  Her voice cracked slightly, and Billie guessed she wasn’t as tranquil as she appeared on the surface. “The afternoon will do you good, then. We can leave as soon as we finish feeding.”

  “Do I need to change?”

  “No. Barn clothes are perfect.” Billie closed the latch after feeding a tall bay gelding, and she returned to the feed room for the next bucket. They worked together and fed the entire row of horses. Billie had been convinced she was better off not getting close to Merissa, but for someone who was fighting hard to keep her personal life separate from her role as Merissa’s protector, she seemed to touch her a lot. She couldn’t help but let her fingers graze Merissa’s when they exchanged buckets, and she always managed to bump against her when they walked through the feed room door. Her body pulled her toward Merissa. Her heart wasn’t pulling her away, it was merely protecting itself. Billie was used to distance. The few times she’d gotten close to anyone she’d been scarred so thickly she didn’t think another person would ever be able to see the wounds underneath.

  Still, she was bringing Merissa to the one place where those wounds had been on display. She really had been planning to cancel her plans to volunteer today, but when she saw the chinks in Merissa’s wall of serenity, she had decided a day working with the wounded soldier program would be good for both of them. She drove them over the bridge and north to Olympia while they made small talk about the weather and the scenery, and she was struck again by how Merissa made even the everyday activities like taking a drive and getting a cup of coffee seem momentous.

  Billie shared normal moments with Mike’s kids and occasionally with Don and Marie, but she usually was on her own when she wasn’t at work. Even the few women she’d dated recently hadn’t been allowed to infiltrate Billie’s world. They went out to eat or to a movie, went home—usually not to Billie’s place—and had sex, and then went their separate ways. Shopping and eating and taking care of her apartment were solitary events for Billie, and had been for most of her life. Merissa had wedged herself into these daily routines—not because she necessarily wanted to, but because they needed to stay close for safety—and her company only highlighted how empty Billie’s life really had been. Part of her wished she could go back to the way she had been before, not really aware of how much another person could fill the regular parts of life. But mostly, she was happy to have had even these short days of togetherness, even though it had been forced on them.

  Billie wound along side streets on the outskirts of Shelton until she reached the dusty little stables with a sign over the entrance announcing it as the home of the Bright Stars Therapeutic Riding Program. Billie parked under a huge, drooping fir tree and shut off the engine. A few horses lazed in dirt paddocks, and an outdoor arena to their right was filled with colorful props, ready for the next lesson.

  Merissa took everything in before turning to Billie. “I’ve heard of Bright Stars,” she said. “It’s a program for soldiers, isn’t it? Do you teach here?”

  “No. I’m a volunteer. They work with soldiers in transition, mostly ones coming home from war with injuries or PTSD. This is…” She paused. Only her mounted team knew she’d ridden here, but they didn’t know the details beyond the lessons. She could easily have canceled today and stayed at the farm with Merissa, but instead, she had brought her here. A few restless nights and an enjoyable shopping trip or two and she was ready to spill her secrets? Yes. “This is where I learned to ride.”

  Merissa looked at her with surprise clearly etched in her raised eyebrows and wide eyes. Was she more shocked that Billie had ridden here, or that she was sharing part of herself? For Billie, the latter was definitely the most unexpected. “When did you start?”

  “About three years ago.” Billie looked at the old white-gray mare who was in the paddock closest to them, swishing her tail at flies and resting with one hind leg cocked. Gambler. One of the first horses Bill
ie had ever ridden. “I had been back from the Middle East for a few years, but I wasn’t handling it well. I’d been injured, and was healing slowly. I’d…well, I lost someone close to me. He was my best friend and I missed him so much. I was floundering, and couldn’t find the meaning in life I’d always known before.”

  Merissa remained quiet for a moment before speaking. “Did you find meaning here?”

  “Yes. And peace.” Billie toyed with the door handle as she spoke. The enclosed car added to the intimacy of the situation, and she swung back and forth between feeling stifled and trapped and feeling secure and close to Merissa. “At first I just sat in the saddle and barely moved while volunteers led me around, but eventually the horses broke through my pain and I started to actually ride. As soon as I heard about the new mounted unit, I applied for the job.”

  “I’m sorry about your friend,” Merissa said softly. She silently offered support, too, by the small nudges and movements of her thigh and arm as she sought contact with Billie.

  “Me, too. I’m still close to his wife, and his kids come to visit me sometimes. It’s sort of like having a real family.” Billie hesitated again. She wasn’t used to this, and her words came out slowly and erratically, like an old machine coming to life again—sputtering and stalling, but gradually growing stronger and steadier.

  “You asked about my family last night and I wasn’t sure how to answer. I usually don’t talk about them. I love my dad and my two sisters, but more because it’s expected than because we’re really close.” Billie hated admitting her lack of genuine feelings for her family because she usually thought people would think she was cold and unfeeling when the opposite was really the truth. But after hearing Merissa talk about her own parents last night, Billie felt she was the one person who might understand her. “He fished off the coast of Alaska. It was dangerous work, but it paid well, and he thought he was doing something good for our family by earning extra money, but instead it pushed us apart.”