“Hey.” Cricket, perched on the back of a bench, tugged on the cords to her earphones and shoved them in her backpack.
Before Rachel could reply, a black Mustang entered the school parking lot. Her dad’s words rushed through her mind. If I ever catch you in that car again, so help me—. But he hadn’t given her much choice now, had he? She pushed his voice out of her head and slid into the backseat.
A buzz announced someone entered the door of Blake Realty.
“Sam, what a surprise!” Laura turned from the copy machine with a file in her hand. She bent down with open arms. “And Olivia. How are you, sweetie?”
Olivia accepted the invitation and wrapped her arms around Laura.
“Is this a bad time?” Sam surveyed the office. He waved to a receptionist looking in his direction. Another agent appeared to be filling out a contract with a young couple, probably buying their first home.
“Oh, no. This is a perfect time.” Laura took Olivia’s hand in hers and stood. “I was supposed to show a property, but the clients cancelled. What’s up?”
“I want to talk business.”
“Oh.” Laura’s eyes diverted to Olivia, and she cleared her throat. Sam couldn’t read her reaction, but it wasn’t what he had hoped. His whole plan depended on this. The tone of her voice was uneasy. “Okay. Let’s go to my office.”
He followed Laura and Olivia to the glass enclosed office illuminated by fluorescent lights hovering over a humming computer, files stacked on the desk, and an open file cabinet drawer, all attesting to Laura’s busy day. In sharp contrast, the office next door was dark, its door closed. Sam felt strange entering Laura’s office instead of the one next to it. The one that Maggie once filled with such energy.
Laura pulled paper from her printer and fished a box of crayons from her lower desk drawer. She handed the supplies to Olivia and invited her to sit in the big chair behind her desk. Laura took a seat in a client chair next to Sam. “What’s up?”
He shifted in his seat, uncertain how to proceed. “About an hour ago, I thought I was coming here to see if you would buy the business—”
Laura shook her head. “There’s no way, Sam. I thought you might consider selling, so Jason and I crunched the numbers, and well, I don’t think we can swing it. In a couple of years maybe. But not right now. Financially, we just can’t.”
Sam laced his fingers and leaned back. “Well, that’s not why I’m here. Actually, I have a slightly different proposal. I don’t want to let the business go. Maggie worked so hard to develop all this, and she loved it. She loved working with the people, helping them sell, helping them buy. She loved the houses, the beautiful ones, the ones that needed a little TLC. The business end of it, and the personal end of it—matching the right buyer with the right home.” Sam laughed. “She used to drive me crazy, talking about it all the time.” His voice grew softer. “She loved it. All of it.”
“Yes. Yes, she did.” Laura smiled in spite of the tears that threatened to spill.
“I can’t let that go. I feel like I’m giving up part of Maggie if I do.”
“I understand. And I’ll help you keep the business going anyway I can.”
“I want a little more than that. I need you to run the business, but—” Sam turned in his chair to face her more directly. “I want you to be a partner.”
Laura’s hand went to her mouth.
Sam continued quickly, desperate to be heard before Laura declined. “Now, I know you said you can’t buy the business right now, but can you buy in? I’m willing to do whatever it takes it to make this work for us both. What do you think?” Sam held his breath.
Laura reached for a tissue from the corner of her desk and dabbed her eyes. Sam waited for her to find her voice. Finally, she smiled. “Well, I have to talk to Jason, of course, but I think it’s . . . possible. I mean, I can’t say for certain without talking to him, but Sam, I think the answer is yes.”
Sam slowly released the breath he held captive. “Yes?”
Laura nodded, shaking more tears loose. As he extended his hand and enclosed it around hers to seal the agreement, she leaned into him and pressed her forehead against his shoulder. Sam felt her body shake. He tried to retreat, but he couldn’t find the familiar wall he took refuge behind, or fight the swell of emotion. Instead, the warmth of tears rolled down his face. “I know, Laura. I know.” The words were barely audible, his voice broken with grief. “I miss her so much.”
Then two small hands pushed between them, separating Sam and Laura. Olivia looked up at them.
“Don’t cry, Laura. Daddy, don’t cry.” Olivia pulled them both to her and put an arm around each of them. “It will make Mommy sad.”
Laura pulled her close. “You, Miss Olivia, are precious.”
When Laura released her, Sam rumpled his daughter’s hair. “She sure helps me keep it together. Don’t you, Livi?”
“Yes, Daddy.” She returned to her business at Laura’s desk. “What would you do without me?”
Sam laughed as he reached for a tissue. He took a breath and gathered himself. The business partnership was only half the reason for his visit.
“Laura, you talk to Jason, and then why don’t the three of us get together over dinner to discuss the details. Isn’t Travis Fisher the attorney Maggie keeps on retainer? Would you feel comfortable with him drawing up the contract?”
“Sure.” Laura’s enthusiasm was evident in her smile. “I can’t believe we’re doing this.”
“Well, if you can’t believe this, you’re really not going to believe what I have to say next.” Sam shook his head. He couldn’t believe it himself.
The smile on Laura’s face was replaced by two creases between her eyebrows. Did she know? How could she? Would she tell him it was a big mistake? Doubt gnawed at him again, but he shook it away.
“Well, are you going to leave me in suspense?”
Was this it? The next right thing, like Roxy said? He was certain it was. Almost. Sam laughed out loud.
“I want to buy the Hitching house.”
Maggie was convinced the day would never end. After Sam read her journal and left so quickly, she was certain he had decided to return to work, to bury his guilt in his job. Why else would he take his gun and badge? Then she started to worry. How much more could he take? He was grieving her death. He was struggling to parent the girls. He certainly wasn’t thinking clearly when he left the house in the middle of the night while the girls slept. And now that he read the journal, now that he knew Maggie suspected he’d had an affair, was it too much? Had he reached a breaking point? Without the girls in the house, without Sam, Maggie was weak. She lay on the couch, watching the minutes pass too slowly.
Finally a car pulled into the drive. Hoping it was Sam, she willed herself to the living room window. Rachel emerged from the same car her father ordered her to never get into again. Seeing her daughter fueled a fire that ran through her veins. How could Rachel continue to defy her father so intentionally?
Then panic replaced her fury. If Rachel came home in that car, where was Sam? Why hadn’t he picked her up? And where was Olivia? A picture of her child waiting at an abandoned playground flashed through Maggie’s mind. No, that wouldn’t happen. The school would have called home if no one had arrived for Olivia, and the phone had not rung all afternoon.
Rachel’s key turned in the lock. She entered the house, slamming the door behind her, mumbling. Maggie moved closer to listen.
“Picking up Olivia. Ride the bus. Yeah, right. I took the bus, all right, Dad. Hope you’re happy.” She grabbed a cheese stick and a juice box from the refrigerator and stomped to her room.
Relief washed over Maggie. Sam had Olivia. They were fine. So she turned her attention to Rachel and followed her into her bedroom. Other than to eat dinner, she doubted Rachel would come out the rest of the evening.
Rachel powered up her laptop and dropped her backpack on top of her desk. She opened it and rummaged through the contents. Then
she opened a side pouch and found what she must have been searching for, a half-empty bag of Skittles. She took off the rubber band that held the bag closed and poured the contents into her hand. Maggie watched her fish through the candy, expecting her to choose a specific color, a red one maybe, or purple. When Rachel found it, Maggie gasped. Another pill. Rachel popped it into her mouth and washed it down with juice. Maggie had watched a similar scene every day after school, each time as disappointed as the first time, pain stabbing clear through her. But this was different. This time Rachel hid the drug in a bag of candy. What was she thinking? What if Olivia found the candy and accidently took the pill?
“Think, Rachel. Think. This isn’t just about you. You’re making dangerous choices for more than just yourself here.”
Rachel stood immobile. Emptiness floated between them. Then, with a sudden, violent motion, she swept the backpack off her desk. It slammed into the wall and landed upside down, gaping open to let the contents spill onto the floor. With a swift kick, she sent loose papers flying.
Maggie’s frustration mounted. She knew, somehow, on some level, Rachel was aware of her presence. But why couldn’t her words get through? She was certain, without a doubt, God returned her to her family for a reason. But she was failing. What was she doing wrong?
Rachel sat down at her laptop, inserted the earbuds from her cell phone, and navigated to a website to chat. Maggie hated that laptop. That’s all Rachel did now. She ignored her homework, her family, her art. Nothing mattered except the pills and her life on the Internet. Maggie read over her shoulder as Rachel chatted with strangers about trivial stuff, school, parents, normal things Maggie would expect to overhear in a teenage conversation. But there was something about it she didn’t like. Maybe it was Rachel’s ability to connect with a stranger on a computer and her inability to connect with people who care about her in the real world, like her father or Kristen or the youth pastor whose calls she continued to refuse. It all made Maggie heavy.
Rachel’s fingers danced across the keyboard and then began to slow. Her shoulders relaxed, and her head fell slightly forward. Maggie recognized the drug’s effect on her daughter. At least now she wouldn’t be so agitated. Maggie hated the thought as it surfaced, but it was true. Only in the hours that Rachel was under the influence could Maggie stand close to her, touch her, or lie beside her. During those moments she talked to Rachel, encouraging her to work at her easel or go to her darkroom, willing her the strength to cope, loving her as a child hiding behind anger and grief. Sometimes she sang their favorite lullaby, changing the original words to list, instead, Rachel’s favorite things, just like Rachel insisted when she was little.
Certain Rachel was lost in the haze, Maggie stood behind the chair, wrapped her arms around her daughter, rested her lips on top of her head, and breathed in the scent of her shampoo. “No matter what, you’re still my little girl. I love you, Rachel.”
Laughter echoed from the kitchen. Sam and Olivia were home and Maggie’s family was intact. Happy sounds slipped down the hallway, a welcomed surprise. It had been several days since laughter rang through the house. And after Sam’s discovery and disappearance this afternoon, laughter certainly wasn’t what she expected to hear.
“Rachel!” Olivia called out as she ran to her sister’s bedroom. “Rachel! We got pizza!”
Rachel’s head bobbed to the rhythm Maggie could hear through the earphones. Olivia grabbed her sister’s sleeve to get her attention.
“Quit it!” Rachel snapped, but it didn’t squelch Olivia’s enthusiasm.
“Come on. We got pizza. It’s a celebration!”
Rachel narrowed her eyes. “What’s to celebrate?” Venom marked her words.
Olivia shrugged. “Daddy just said we’re celebrating, so come on.”
Sam celebrating?
Olivia pulled at her sister’s arm, but Rachel shook off her grip, a little too aggressively Maggie thought.
“Leave me alone.” Rachel turned her attention back to her music and the laptop.
Olivia’s shoulders dropped in disappointment. Maggie’s heart sank.
“Rachel Nicole!”
Sam’s voice bellowed from the bedroom door. In three long strides he was at Rachel’s desk. He slammed down the lid of the laptop and jerked the earphones from her ears. As Rachel looked up at her dad, Maggie recognized her attempt to mask the fear in her eyes with a plea of innocence.
“Did you hear your sister? Get yourself to the dining room table. Now!”
Rachel searched for an excuse. “I, uh, I’m not really hungry.” Her eyes darted to Sam’s face and away again.
“Now!” Sam stood like a soldier at attention, his arm extended, finger pointing toward the bedroom door. “And leave your attitude here. We’re going to have a pleasant family dinner whether you want to or not.” He waited for Rachel to get up from her desk and lead the way.
“That’s more like it, Sam.” She patted him on the shoulder, though he didn’t know it. “Take charge.”
In the middle of the dining room table was a carry-out pizza box, a stack of paper plates and napkins, and three cans of A&W root beer. Maggie took her usual seat while Sam served dinner. Olivia picked at the slice of pizza on her plate, but Rachel devoured hers. Sam chewed slowly, inspecting her. What was he thinking? It was several minutes before he broke the silence.
“I thought you weren’t hungry.” He raised an eyebrow as Rachel reached for a third piece.
Maggie detected the expression on Rachel’s face, the declaration that she’d been caught. She shrugged. “Guess I was hungrier than I thought.”
“Hmm.” Sam continued to study her.
She began to squirm, apparently aware of her father’s stare. “So, Olivia said we’re celebrating. Celebrating what?”
Maggie didn’t like her daughter’s diversion tactic.
Olivia’s face brightened, and she bounced in her chair. “Yeah, Daddy, what are we celebrating? Is there cake?”
Sam locked his gaze on Rachel and held the tension in the room a moment longer before relinquishing. Then he cleared his throat, and Maggie watched the revival of the man she knew was buried deep in the shell of what Sam had become.
“Sorry, Livi, there’s no cake, but—”
Maggie could feel Sam’s energy, his pause to capture the girls’ attention.
“But what?” Olivia’s eyes were wide with wonder. “What is it?”
“Well—” Sam looked from Olivia to Rachel and back to Olivia. Then he glanced at Maggie’s chair. She longed for him to know she was there. “I retired today.”
Maggie stiffened.
“What’s that?” Olivia’s forehead wrinkled.
Rachel stopped chewing and stared at him.
“It means I don’t have to go to work anymore. I can be a dad and take care of you.”
“But, don’t we, like, have to have money?” Rachel turned her head and looked at him sideways.
“That’s the nice thing about retirement. I still get paid, and I’ve done a little investing. We’re going to be fine. I planned to work a lot longer.” He nodded toward Rachel. “To at least get you through college. But things have changed. I think my job is too dangerous, too demanding, for a . . . single dad.”
Enthusiasm drained from Sam’s words, but only momentarily.
“I’m not actually retired yet. Retirement won’t be official until I run out of sick days and comp time, which . . . well, never mind. It’s too complicated. The bottom line is I don’t have to go to work.”
Maggie had difficulty gauging Sam’s tone. His excitement hinted at genuine, but something conflicting lay beneath. And then his tone turned almost jubilant.
“But there’s more.” His eyes widened, adding mystery to his announcement.
More? Maggie was still reeling from the shock of Sam’s retirement. When he talked about his future, retirement was never part of the conversation. Promotion was. He had lofty career goals, plans to rise through the ranks, long b
efore he considered retirement. And she knew he was well on his way up. Her heart was burdened by the sacrifice he made, another loss suffered, because of her.
“What else, Daddy?” Olivia wrinkled her nose. “I hope it’s better than tirement ’cause I don’t get that.”
Sam laughed. “Better than retirement, huh? Well, maybe it is.” He sat back in his chair and grinned at his daughters. Maggie was perplexed by the excitement in his face, confused about what could be better than retirement, when retirement wasn’t something that Lieutenant Samuel Blake would be excited about. Maggie worried as Sam prepared to deliver the news, clearly satisfied with himself.
“Rachel, Olivia . . . we are buying the Hitching house.”
His words hung in empty air. Maggie’s body went limp. Her head felt hollow as “Hitching house” bounced around inside.
“But we already have a house.” Olivia’s voice rang with more confusion, and Maggie felt sorry for her, certain Olivia must still be waiting for something to celebrate. “I don’t want to live in another house.”
“You’re right, Livi. We do have a house, and we’re not moving. I bought the Hitching house because—”
“Because you can’t let things go, can you, Dad?” Rachel interjected, slamming her fist on the table to accentuate the indictment, increasing her volume as she continued. “Mom is gone. Dead. Not coming back. What part of that don’t you get?”
“Hey.” Sam rumbled a warning.
“No, Dad. You’re in denial. You still let Olivia talk to Mom like she’s here. This house is a shrine.” She waved her arm through the air. “Everywhere I look I see her stuff. Aren’t you supposed to get rid of a dead person’s stuff, give it to Goodwill or something? I’m sick of the reminders.” Her tone grew with accusation. “And now you’ve found another way to hang on to her, haven’t you? How many times did Mom practically beg you to buy that house? But you always said no. Why now? And if you tell me you’re gonna make it a bed and breakfast, I swear I’ll puke!” By the time the last words came out, Rachel’s voice had reached another octave. She pushed her chair back so hard it crashed into the wall behind her. “Well?”
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