I rub the side of my face. It’s numb and throbby. “Is it serious?”
“It can be,” she says. “You need to stay down.” She straightens the covers and smooths my hair. “Charles says if you kids hadn’t pulled off that escape, the sabotage could have gone undetected. All the things that man set in place might have looked like an accident after the fact, especially with Victor gone.” She swallows back a sob, pausing briefly. “I could have lost you both at once.”
The door opens just a crack and Lyman peeks in. “Hey, forensic girl.”
“Lyman.” I give Rachel a pleading look. “Let him come in. Please?”
She goes to the door and ushers Lyman inside. “Just a minute. She needs to rest.”
“Thank you,” Lyman says.
“I’ll check on Victor,” Rachel says. “He’s right next door.”
“Thanks, Rachel,” I say.
Lyman sits down in the chair next to my bed. “Spam sent me to check on you.”
“Is she—”
“She and Lysa and Journey are all okay. Whatever that stuff was that he used to knock them out has ravaged their noses and throats. But the doctors say in time they’ll heal just fine.”
“I owe you my life. We wouldn’t have made it out without you.”
“I owe you mine, too,” Lyman says.
“What happened? Are you still going to … you know?”
“My grandmother’s?” He shakes his head. “I don’t have to now. When Spam sent the SOS—or actually, I guess it was you—I had already written a note to my mom and packed my things. All I needed to do was get to the train station. I logged into the game to leave one last message for Spam and found your message. I dropped everything and went straight to the school.”
“Oh no.”
“It’s okay,” he says. “My mom came home early, found the note, and tracked me by my cell phone. She got here just as everything was blowing up. And…” He pauses. “She turned herself in. No more running.”
“Oh, Lyman. What’s going to happen now?”
“I’m not exactly sure, but we sat down with the police chief. My mom explained everything … she had petitioned for custody of me but it was declined because she was single and worked long hours as a doctor. Also, her student loan payments were really high.”
“Why would any of that stuff matter?” I ask.
“My parents swore they would stop using drugs, and the social worker wanted to believe them. Anyway, the night she took me, she had just stopped by their house on her way home from work and found my parents completely passed out. She decided to take me home with her to keep me safe. It was supposed to be just for the night. But the next morning she learned they died from overdoses. She was afraid that she would lose her medical license. So she decided to run.”
“Why?”
“She’s a doctor. She should have recognized the signs of an overdose. If she had called paramedics, there was a shot they could have given them and they might have survived. She said she probably should have called for help, but that wasn’t the first time she’d found my parents in that condition.”
“How awful. How do you feel about that?” I know this isn’t an easy question.
“I’m relieved to have it out in the open and grateful to her for what she did,” he says. “But I’m also sad. She gave up her whole life as a doctor to protect me, and now…” He shrugs. “She’s probably going to jail.”
“What did the chief say?”
“He said she probably will have to do some jail time, but he will try to help her.”
“What about your grandma? Do you still want to meet her?”
“I’ve already talked to her on the phone. She’s coming here. She’ll stay in our house, with me, while my mom gets things squared away. So the good news is you’re not getting rid of me. I hope that’s a good thing.”
“Seriously? It’s awesome. Spam must be thrilled.”
The door flings open and Victor bangs against both sides of it trying to wheel himself in, in a wheelchair. “Can you believe they’re insisting I use this thing?”
Journey appears behind Victor and holds the door open so Victor can roll himself in. The chief is right behind Journey.
“Oh, be quiet,” the chief says, slipping in front of Journey. “At least you’re alive, thanks to our girl here. How’s the head, sweetie?”
Lyman waves and moves out the door.
I rub my temple. “It’s been better. But hey, squeaked one through again.” I give him a soft smile and he returns it.
“We sure did,” Victor says. “You must be a cat with nine lives.”
Journey squeezes past Victor and the chief to get to the head of the bed. He lightly kisses the throbby, bruised side of my face.
“Is it bad?” I ask.
Journey nods and presses his hand over my wound.
His warmth radiates through me. I scoot over to make room for him and he sits on the edge of the bed.
“Are you both okay?” I ask.
Journey takes my hand and squeezes it. “I’m fine.”
“I’m fine, too.” Victor shakes his head. “But I’m plenty angry about the lab blowing up. And, also for missing the cues about Clay.”
“You weren’t the only one who missed that; I actually went to him for advice on how to tell you things,” I say.
“Yeah, well next time just tell me, okay,” Victor says.
“Did he really kill that kid?” I ask. “It seems so unbelievable.”
“It’s quite a story.” The chief pulls up a chair. “Back then, the contractor was just getting started and he had this gimmick to drum up business. Clay would send Rodney in at night to vandalize certain properties. Then Clay would show up the next day and offer a reasonable bid to repair the damage. Most of the time they’d get the jobs without any competition.”
“So how long did this go on?” Victor asks.
“About a year,” the chief says. “Long enough for Clay to build up a reputation as a reliable contractor people could trust. Journey’s family was going to be their next target. But Clay said Rodney went soft watching Journey’s parents care for their young son. He liked the way he felt around them and wanted to be part of a family again.”
“Wow.” I look at Journey. “The power of family.”
Victor squeezes my foot.
“I was an officer when this was going on, not directly responsible for this case or anything, but I remember it,” the chief says. “Jameson claimed someone was harassing his family and no one believed them. According to Clay, the ‘harassment’ was coming from Rodney. The young man left Clay and secretly took up living in the ruins of the cannery and, ultimately, in the attic of the Michaels’s home. He knew that Clay wanted him to come back, but he moved around like a ghost and managed to avoid him. Apparently, he developed a real fondness for you, Journey. He told Clay you were the little brother he never had.”
“Somebody was living in our attic? That’s super creepy,” Journey says.
“Clay was afraid that Rodney would eventually rat him out?” Victor asks.
“Exactly. Rodney threatened to do just that if Clay didn’t leave him alone,” the chief says. “Clay knew Rodney was living at the cannery. He had been hanging around, spying on the family, and trying to get to Rodney. He must’ve gone through Jameson’s truck when he wasn’t home and found the shotgun. He watched Jameson set the trap and he knew exactly who that trap was set for. That night after everyone went to bed, he loaded the shotgun and swapped it with the paintball gun. Rodney was asleep in the attic when the trap was set. He knew nothing about it.”
Spam slips in the door and gives me a little wave.
“Wow. Clay seemed like a nice guy. Who knew he was that coldhearted?” I say.
“He reeked of it,” Spam says. “He was too nice.”
“Here’s the amazing part,” the chief continues. “Once the deed was done and Rodney was silenced, there wasn’t anything that would have connected Clay to R
odney … until your idea to test the shells, Erin.”
“See that?” Victor says, beaming. “You saved the day again. You really are my star pupil.”
“He took the shells with him,” I say. “They’re in his toolbox.”
“Don’t worry, we’ll find them.” the chief says. “It would help if we had something else to tie him to Rodney. But the shells might be enough.”
“Check Clay’s key ring,” I say. “He’s got a carved wooden ring like the one Rodney gave to Journey when he was a baby.
“We’ll definitely look into that.”
I look up at Journey. “So when are they letting your dad out of jail?”
“The legal stuff is complicated,” Victor says. “But we’ll get to work on it.”
The door opens again and a nurse peeks in. She is shocked by the number of people in my room.
“What is wrong with you people?” she says. “This young lady has a concussion and needs her rest. All of you out. Out. Out.”
“No,” I plead. “Don’t make them leave.”
“Oh yes,” she says firmly. “They’re leaving. Now. Shoo.”
Everyone files out of the room.
Victor is the last to go. He gently presses his hand to my forehead.
“I’m intensely proud of you,” he says.
47
Family means no one gets left behind or forgotten.
—STITCH, OF LILO AND STITCH
After two days in the hospital and a day in bed at home, I’m almost back to normal. Well, as normal as I’ve ever been.
Victor told me to get dressed up, he has a surprise.
I come downstairs wearing slacks and a nice top, but he throws his hands in the air. “That is not dressed up. May I see an actual dress, please?”
I can’t imagine what he has planned that would require a dress. I go back upstairs and change. When I return, he grins and rubs his hands together. “That’s more like it.” He heads toward the door but pauses, giving me a strange look. “We’re still family, right?”
“Of course. Why?” He’s acting weird, but then a near-death event tends to do that to you. I’m probably acting weird myself.
It takes all the way until we’re in the car and Victor is driving before I ask. “Where are we going?”
“You’ll see,” he says.
“That’s what you told me when I asked about the camp.… And where Rachel was. Where is she, by the way?”
“You’ll see,” he says.
“Noooo,” I clench my fists in frustration.
“Just relax. You’ll have the answers to everything soon. I promise,” he says.
“Why are you being so mysterious?” I ask.
“Because you’re being so nosy. Can you just go with the flow and—”
“Let me guess … I’ll see.”
“Now you’re getting it,” he says.
After a short drive, we wind up at the courthouse. Victor parks and leads the way into the building. He’s practically skipping while I’m lagging behind, trying to figure out what we’re doing here.
“Come on, slowpoke,” he says. He clearly knows his way around. He leads us through a few doors and down a long hallway. He peeks into an office. “Judge Carter is expecting us.”
The woman points to the left.
Victor goes to the next door and opens it. A sign tells me we’re entering Judge Carter’s chambers. “Wait in here,” he says. Then he quickly ducks out.
It’s a large wood-paneled office. So large that at first I don’t notice Rachel and the chief sitting in chairs in front of a desk. Rachel’s carrying a small bouquet of flowers.
Aw. I think I get it. “Is this a surprise wedding?”
Rachel and the chief exchange looks. They shrug and shake their heads.
“Then what? Somebody tell me what’s going on.”
Victor bursts back in with the judge and a packet of papers. He takes the flowers from Rachel and offers them to me. “Erin,” he says. “If you will you do me the honor of allowing me to adopt you and make you my official and forever daughter, Judge Carter here is willing to handle the legal, business end of that arrangement.”
What? I’m stunned. Shocked. Shaken …
Fortunately, there’s a chair nearby and I flop into it.
Victor looks concerned. “Whoa. Are you okay? Is it your head? Was that a no?”
“No.”
His face looks crushed.
“No. It’s not a no, it’s just a—” I look at Rachel. “What happens to us?”
Her eyes get watery, but she has the most beautiful smile I have ever seen. “Nothing and everything happens to us. You are still my beautiful daughter and the sun and the moon and the stars and if I didn’t understand it before, I know now that you are more than likely the very best parts of the two most important people in my life—your mother … and my brother. And I’m more than happy to share the amazing young woman that you are with him.”
I nod. “Okay, then. Yes. I’ve always wanted a dad. I’ll be your daughter.”
In a crazy whirl of events that I will barely be able to remember five minutes from now, Judge Carter asks both Victor and me why we are seeking this adoption. And then he tells us something we already know, which is that once we take this step we will become a family and neither one can back out or ever tear us apart. And then says it’s so.
My heart is bursting out of my chest. I feel like I need some air. I get out of the chair and head for the door.
“Where are you going?” Rachel asks.
I point to the door.
She laughs. “Give me back my flowers. Now we’re having the surprise wedding.”
“What?” I hand her back her flowers and flop down in the chair again. My knees are shaking so hard.
Rachel kneels in front of my chair. “My mission every day since that day has been to keep you safe and perfect. But despite my most ardent efforts, twice now I’ve almost lost you and my brother completely. This second time was a stark reminder that all we really have is today. And we each need to live it to the fullest. I hope you’re okay with that.”
I nod and flash the biggest smile ever because that’s much easier than trying to talk with all this emotion clogging my throat.
Rachel and the chief wrote their own vows, and the only dry eye in the room belongs to the judge, who declares them husband and wife.
Victor nudges me. “How about that. You went from zero to two dads in a single day.”
“What are we going to do with the FedEx envelope?” I ask.
“What do you want to do with it?” he asks.
“I think we should burn it,” I say.
“Okay,” he says. “Bonfire at dusk. Bring marshmallows.”
* * *
We’re just getting into Victor’s car when his cell phone rings. He pauses to answer it.
“What? Yeah. No.” He listens for a couple of seconds and then turns sharply to look at me. “Wait. Hold on. I’m putting you on speaker and then I want you to repeat that.”
Victor holds out his phone so we can both hear the guy on the phone. “I said, I sent you a note about the paternity test you requested.”
“Yeah?” Victor answers. His gaze is tightly pinned to me.
“The samples became contaminated once they got here,” the guy says. “We couldn’t do the test. Can you send them again?”
My mouth drops open. I motion between the two of us and he nods.
“Thanks anyway, John,” Victor says. “I don’t need those results anymore anyway.”
Victor clicks off his phone.
“So we still don’t—” I ask.
“That’s right,” Victor says. “And it doesn’t matter.” He laughs as he starts up the car.
I’m laughing too. But then I stop. “What about the job thing?”
“Listen, I know I told you not to worry about that even though I know you can’t control how you feel. I don’t want to be that dad, Erin. I want to be the guy who makes
mistakes, but tells you the truth. I’ve answered all their questions honestly, and I’m pretty sure it’s going to work out okay.”
“I’m pretty sure it is too.” It turns out that Victor’s not like all the other adults in my life, simply telling me what to do and how to feel and keeping what’s real away from me.
“I’m waiting for you to ask about the camp again,” he says.
“Okay,” I say. “Tell me about the camp?”
“You’ll see,” he says, grinning.
I shake my head, buckle my seatbelt, and sit back against the seat.
* * *
I’m a little edgy when I realize that Victor is driving us to the school. I’m not fond of places where I almost died.
The Administration building is cordoned off with crime scene tape. The beautiful white pillars and marble are scarred with blackened fingers from the smoke. Victor says it could be months before the building can be used again.
He leads us over to the gym.
Inside, sharing space with Coach Wilkins and sports camp, is Camp CSI, humming along under the supervision of Miss Blankenship—though I hardly recognize her with her jet-black hair down and flowing around her shoulders in soft curls. Lysa and Spam and Journey and Lyman are spread out, working with dozens of kids divided into different age groups.
I’m stunned. “Everything was destroyed. How were you able to pull it back together so fast?”
“Taryn called in some favors,” he says.
“Taryn?”
“Turns out our principal, Miss Blankenship, had some surprises of her own. Did you know she went to school with your Miss P? It’s the reason she applied to come to this school.”
Miss Blankenship wanders over with the clipboard against her chest.
“I’d like you to meet my daughter,” Victor says to her.
“I know Erin.” She swivels her head toward him in that familiar odd way. “But you mean niece, not daughter. Right?”
“No. I mean daughter.” Victor holds up our adoption certificate. “Fresh off the press.”
“Wow.” Her eyes light up. “What a day, huh?”
“You knew Miss P?” I ask.
She offers a sad smile. “We were roommates all through college. She was my best friend.”
To Right the Wrongs Page 25