by Dana Mentink
My daddy’s bad.
Hector had done terrible things. He was bad, in some ways, but he had nearly died trying to save her sister from the trap he’d set for her on the island. He’d gone to prison, professing he would come out a better man. They had no future together, nothing that should stir her toward forgiveness. She would never love him again. The rage and hatred inside her would stay forever, she feared, blackening and staining her whole life. If Hector was bad, unforgivable, unredeemable, what did that mean for the child he had fathered? Or the wife who’d made so many mistakes herself?
And what of Dallas? She knew only a small bit about his troubled youth, but without question she was also certain Dallas Black was a good man. Then again, she’d thought Hector was, too.
Mia felt the soft rise and fall of Gracie’s breathing, her back curled against Mia’s stomach on the narrow bunk bed. How small she was, this little girl who looked to Mia to show her who God was, a god of forgiveness. It was something Mia could say with her mouth, but not embrace in her soul.
If he’s sorry, God will help him be a good man again.
She wondered afresh about the strange and straightforward Dallas Black. The troublemaker with a certainty about himself and God that she could no longer deny attracted her. She itched to soothe her restlessness with movement. Careful not to wake Gracie, Mia crept from the bed, earning an intense look from Juno who was stationed on the floor.
He stared at her, pupils two glimmers in the dimness. Dogs were strange to her, galumphing creatures who made messes and were prone to biting. The big lumbering animal scared her a bit, but he undeniably enchanted Gracie for some reason. Slobbery tongue, muddy paws, sharp teeth.
And a friend, to a child who had no others.
She crouched down next to the animal. “Thank you, Juno,” she whispered.
The dog swiveled his ears, considering, and then laid his head back on his paws and assumed his watchful rest.
She clicked on the small light above the kitchen table and powered up Dallas’s laptop, navigating to her inbox. While the computer booted up, she peered out the blinds into the unceasing rain. Across the way, a dim yellow light gleamed from the window of Dallas’s trailer. It made her feel better to know he was there and at the same time grateful there was a safe distance between them.
The previous day played back in her mind like a bad movie. Cora gone and so was her job. Dr. Elias’s face flashed in her memory. Had she misread the whole situation? Had he really been offering help? Trust your instincts, Dallas told her. But she trusted nothing about herself anymore, especially where men were concerned.
Pulling her attention back to the laptop, she opened her inbox. A message from her sister.
How are you? Hurricane cleanup continues here. Reuben is confident that he can start replanting the orchard soon. The man lives, eats and breathes oranges. How did I get fixed up with a guy who loves oranges more than me?
Mia smiled. Reuben loved his orchard, but they both knew that the man was desperately in love with Antonia. She felt the pang of envy. Hector had loved her, too, in his own way, but he’d loved power and money more.
I hear there is flooding in your area. Come to visit us in Florida. Aside from the odd hurricane, we’ve got perfect weather. We’ll put you to work, but you’ll be above water. I’d feel better if I could keep my eyes on you.
Antonia knew that Hector tracked Mia everywhere. And Hector’s enemies? The people he’d cheated and double-crossed? Did they track her everywhere, too? A shiver rippled up her spine and she read the remainder of the message.
I know you don’t want me to do the protective big sister thing. I’ll try to be good, I promise. Reuben wants you here, too. He misses Gracie, and he wants to see her climb a tree. Waiting for your reply. A
Mia’s fingers stiffened over the keyboard. See Gracie climb a tree? How did her sister know Gracie had managed to clamber up the old cottonwood tree in the backyard of their rented house a few days prior? The child was bursting with pride, even though Dallas had to get a ladder to fetch her down, and reported the accomplishment to everyone who crossed their path in the small town. Was Antonia having someone spy on her? Teeth gritted, she forced out several measured breaths.
She was turning into a nutcase. Reuben’s life was trees. Of course he’d want to see Gracie climb one. She read the email again. The tree-climbing reference was purely coincidental, and her paranoia was turning her against the one person she knew was completely on her side. Hitting Reply, she contemplated how to put into words all that had happened the past two days.
Cora is dead. I am under suspicion for the murder. An intruder broke into our house. I’m staying in Dallas’s trailer. I’m scared, worried, alone.
She perused the words that would send her sister into a panic. The sister who had been right all along. The woman who deserved above everyone else to enjoy the start of a marriage to the man she’d loved and lost and found again.
Backspace. Delete.
Blinking back tears she typed instead:
Gracie’s growing like mad. She checks her teeth every day to see if they are loose, so desperate to use the special tooth box you sent. So busy here with work and school. Will write soon. Love you and Reuben. M
The inbox was cluttered with ads and offers from every company she’d ordered from recently using a credit card with her maiden name. It was a very tiny victory, but she took comfort in the fact that she had been able to provide the bare bones necessities with her very own hard-earned cash. Thanks to a secondhand store in town, she’d even managed a plastic wading pool that had gotten them through the hot months. It was light-years from the expensive toys and top-of-the-line clothes Gracie had when she was a baby in Hector’s home, but it was bought with honest money. Gracie didn’t seem to realize they were living perilously close to the poverty line. Not yet, anyway.
Clearing out the junk brought her to the last email. Her heart hammered. It could not be. The sender’s name, c.graham, did not change no matter how hard she blinked. Cora Graham had sent her an email at four-thirty on the day she’d died, shortly after she’d sent the text summoning them to her house.
Panic squeezed Mia’s stomach, and for a moment, she was too terrified to click open the email. Finally, with fingers gone cold, she did.
Find P. Finnigan. He knows the truth. I can’t...
The message ended abruptly. Mia’s heart pounded. Cora had sent the message when? As the smoke overcame her? As the poison paralyzed her body and she realized she could not escape?
Sobs wrenched through Mia. She clapped a hand over her mouth to keep from waking Gracie and staggered to the porch, stepping outside, grateful that the rain had momentarily slowed to a trickle. Sucking in deep breaths, she tried to rein in her stampeding emotions. It should not have surprised her to hear Dallas’s door open. In a moment, he was next to her, peering into her face.
“Tell me,” he said softly.
She couldn’t answer over the grief that welled up inside.
With arms both strong and gentle, he pulled her close, not offering any more words, but the warmth and solace of his body pressed to hers.
* * *
With her head tucked under his chin, he let the mist dance lightly against his face, finding himself oddly relaxed with her in his arms. It was as if she molded naturally into his embrace, a perfect fit with a man who never fit in anywhere. He pressed his cheek against her hair and wondered if there was something he should be saying.
He went with silence. She would tell him what made her cry, or not. He would do everything in his power to help. That was all there was to it. So instead he relished the feel of her there, until the mist turned to drizzle and he guided her back into the trailer.
She wiped her face and sat at the kitchen table. He slid in across from her.
“I’m sorry,” she
said. “I slipped into hysteria there for a minute.”
“No sweat.”
“It was because of this.” She turned the laptop to face him. “It’s from Cora.”
He read it. “Do you know a P. Finnigan?”
She shook her head, eyes huge in the near darkness. “Should we tell the police?”
“Yes. When you meet with them tomorrow. I’ll work on it.”
“How?”
“Let me worry about it. Get some sleep.”
She offered an exasperated look. “Easy for you to say. You don’t seem to need any sleep. Were you keeping watch on us all this time?”
I haven’t been able to take my eyes off you since the day I met you, his fickle heart supplied. Fortunately, his mouth was still in charge. “Don’t need much sleep.”
“Or much furniture?”
He shrugged.
“Or a TV?”
“Too noisy.” He won a smile with that one.
She rested her chin on her hand. “What do you need?”
The question surprised him. “Simple stuff. Backpack. Hot shower. Dog kibble.”
That got a giggle that faded rapidly. “I mean, you move around all the time, like you’re looking for something. What is it?”
How did he get himself into this sticky conversation? The silence stretched into awkward so he broke down and told her. “Ever hear that verse from Proverbs? Starts with ‘trust in the Lord’ and ends with ‘Seek his will in all you do, and he will show you which path to take?’”
She nodded solemnly.
“Well, I tried to take my own path plenty of times, and it got me in jail and beaten badly and deep into gang life.” He watched carefully to see if she would recoil. Most women did when he got around to his sorry life history. Those brown eyes stayed riveted to his face.
“Why a gang?”
“My dad died when I was a teen, and I went nuts. Joined a gang, figured it made me a man, cool, like my brother.”
“But he got out, didn’t he?”
“Yeah. He’s smarter than me. Military straightened him out. He tried to get me out, too, but I’m hardheaded. Took the beating to do that. I woke up handcuffed to the bed, and the first thing I thought of was, had I killed someone?”
She stayed quiet.
“I hadn’t. God spared me from that, but I could have.” His voice hitched a little. “Oh, how easily I could have done it.”
“You wanted to go into the military, didn’t you? Your brother told me, I think.” Her voice was soft and soothing, like water over river stones.
He sighed. “My whole life I wanted to be a Marine like my father. My choices ruined that for me. They don’t take people with damaged legs and gang histories.” It still hurt to say it, but somehow, telling it to her, it was more of a dull ache than a ripping pain.
“I’m sorry.”
“I’m not. Oh, I wish I could have done it some other way, but destroying my life brought me to the edge of ruin and that’s where I finally found God. From then on, I figured I’d let Him show me where to go and I guess He brought me here for a while.”
“Until it’s time to go again?”
“Dunno. He’ll thump me on the head when He wants me to put down some roots.” He paused. “What about you? What do you need?”
She laughed, but there was no joy in the sound. “I need a place to call home, where I can put down roots so deep Gracie and I will never be uprooted again, but I’m never going to get that.”
“No?”
“No, because Hector will never leave us alone, and everywhere we go his bad choices follow us.” She closed her eyes for a moment and breathed out a sigh. “No, our bad choices. I’ve...” She swallowed. “I’ve been to jail, too, and now it looks as if I might be going there again.” Her face paled. “What have we done to Gracie? Two people who were supposed to love and protect her? What have we done?”
Tears sparkled there in her eyes, but she would not let them fall. Good girl, Mia.
He took her hands and squeezed hard. “Gracie is happy and loved. Even I can tell that, and kids are like space aliens to me.”
Small smile.
“Not one person on this Earth has no regrets.”
Juno thrashed in his sleep.
“Except dogs.”
“That’s probably true.” He fell into the warmth of those eyes. “I’ll help you find a place to put down roots.” Dumb. The moment he said it she pulled away. Way to go, Dallas Foot-in-Mouth Black.
Her tone became careful, formal. “Thank you, but I’m going to take care of us. That’s a lesson I learned the hard way. I can only count on myself.”
Wrong lesson. No bigger disappointment than oneself. “Sure. I didn’t mean anything by it.” He looked outside. “Sun’s almost up. I’ll follow you into town so you can talk to the cops.”
He headed for the door, not at a run but close to it. “There are some eggs, like I said, and maybe cheese somewhere. Will Gracie eat that?”
She nodded, face still tight. “Yes, thank you. I’ll replace it all when I can.”
He let her have that, if it was what she needed to feel in control.
“Good night, Mia.”
* * *
Two hours later he followed her bashed up car toward town. Ominous signs of disaster preparation were visible as they drove along the main street. Shop owners were filling burlap bags with sand to be piled along the embankment that would optimistically stem the flood. Mia decided to stop and retrieve the photo before meeting with the police chief, so they drove along rain-drenched streets toward the lower lying valley where she rented a home. His gut tightened as a dark-colored SUV trailed behind them along the main drag and onto the narrow two-lane road. Not cause for alarm, per se, but he thought it just might be the same SUV he’d noticed parked on the side of the road several miles back. Colorado plates. Might be a rental.
Dallas slowed and so did the SUV. Not good. Keeping a distance. Nothing to be done to lose the guy at this point. Besides, in one of his stay-up-all-night reading frenzies, hadn’t he read some sage advice from a Chinese general in 400 BC about keeping your friends close and your enemies closer?
“All right,” he whispered, earning an interested look from Juno in the passenger seat. He maintained a steady pace, and the car dropped back just enough to preserve the gap between them.
He braked hard when Mia stopped abruptly. In a moment, he understood. The road dipped down, following the slope of the valley, only now the asphalt had disappeared under several feet of water. The surface was muddy and rippled, speckled with leaves and broken branches. She got out, hands on hips turning to give him an exasperated look that almost made him smile.
He joined her, noting that the SUV had pulled over a half mile behind them.
“Can your truck make it across?”
“Might, but I’m not going to risk anyone’s safety. There’s a bridge back a ways. We’ll double back.”
She groaned. “That will take us another half hour.”
“Better late than drowned.”
She looked as though she didn’t appreciate his pearls of wisdom, but she acquiesced.
Juno sniffed disinterestedly at the water, stopping a moment to eye the car behind them on the road.
A look of fear flashed across her face. “Who is that?”
“Dunno, but I’ll find out in a minute. Let’s head for the bridge.”
Mia gave the SUV a second look. He knew she wanted to ask more questions, but instead she got behind the wheel and turned around. Dallas fell in behind her and by the time they were rolling, the SUV had disappeared. Not for long. As he predicted, it picked them up again some five miles in, once again hanging back just enough.
The bridge was of sturdy steel construction, sp
anning the river that was normally well below its concrete piers. Now the water lapped considerably above that mark, but not enough to leave the structure impassable.
Yet.
Dallas decided it was time to get a better handle on the situation.
Mia drove over the bridge, and when she was safely across, he followed suit. A couple of feet in, he stomped on the brakes, bringing his vehicle to a dead stop.
“Time to come clean,” he muttered, looking into the rearview as the SUV made the approach to the bridge. He stopped abruptly, too.
If their shadow was there for purely innocent reasons, he’d wait patiently, figuring there was some obstruction, maybe even honk after a bit, or try to pass. Certainly he’d get out of the car to investigate why Dallas was stopped, blocking the road.
Instead, the driver backed rapidly off the bridge, did a jerky three-point turn and took off in the other direction.
Dallas almost smiled for the second time that morning. He rolled down the window and called to Mia who had stopped and stuck her head out the window to question him.
“Go on. I’ll be there soon.”
Her eyes widened, quarter-size. “What are you doing?”
“Just making friends,” he called out the window.
SEVEN
Dallas let the SUV outdistance him until it sped around a sharp bend in the shrub-lined road. He slowed and turned up a rough stretch which was probably more a trail than a road, but a way Dallas and Juno had explored many times in their backpacking travels. He stopped for only a moment to call a friend and give him the plate number.
“You know I got things to do ’sides hack info for you, right?” Farley said.
Dallas laughed. “Gonna help me or not?”