Because she blamed Zoe.
She blamed Zoe for all the pain she’d suffered over the last three years. For Joey’s death, and her marriage falling apart. She blamed Zoe for everything.
But Zoe didn’t get it.
Or maybe she did.
In any case, Zoe still tried . . . most days. She’d care for their mother when she was out of her mind from the drugs and alcohol. She’d pick her up off the floor and drag her into bed. She’d clean her and feed her. When Zoe wasn’t hurt or angry, there wasn’t anything she wouldn’t do for their mother.
“It’s okay. They’ll be in the shower soon,” Carrie said to her scowling sister. That was their routine. They’d be quiet for a while, then they’d start doing it, then they’d both shower. Some nights that’s all they heard. Other times, they did it several times, but there was always a shower in between. Their mother and father did all the same things in the exact same order. It was pretty gross.
Zoe finally emerged from the pillow, her face red, her eyes desperate. “I hate her sooo freaking much. I really wish Dad was home and that jackass wasn’t in our house. He bugs the shit out of me.” She hurled her pillow across the room.
Carrie was usually able to drown out the sex noise by reading. Either that or by going deep inside her head. She could go inside her head for hours and just think. And lately, if their mother’s activities were making her feel especially bad, she was able to drown out all of the bad feelings by cutting herself.
Zoe, though, couldn’t escape it.
Carrie hated to see her sister so upset. She wanted Zoe to be happy. And if anyone knew how to make her happy, it was their dad.
More loud noises erupted from the master bedroom. The sound of a headboard slamming into a wall. Laughter. Before Carrie knew what she was about to do, before she could clamp a hand over her sister’s mouth, Zoe suddenly screamed at the top of her lungs: “Shut up!”
Carrie’s heart nearly stopped.
Oh, shit!
The noise in the next room stopped. The whole house seemed to go still.
“Well, at least they stopped,” Zoe said, her voice tough. But her lips trembled a little, giving away her fear—because she knew as well as Carrie did that the next few minutes weren’t going to be pretty.
A door clicked open down the hallway, then footsteps approached. A moment later, their bedroom door flew open. Their mother appeared in a short, yellow silk robe. Her hair was disheveled, her eye makeup badly smeared. A strong, musky, perfumey odor floated through the air and into Carrie’s nostrils.
“What the hell is wrong with you, Zoe?” she barked.
Zoe glared at her mother. “Nothing is wrong with me,” she said. But her lips were trembling even worse now. She was definitely frightened . . . as she should be.
“Don’t you ever do that again, little girl. Do you hear me? You’re embarrassing me in front of Gary . . . and you don’t want to do that.”
Zoe narrowed her eyes. “I hate you,” she mumbled under her breath.
“I’m sorry. What did you just say?” their mother asked.
Zoe’s chin was trembling now. Her words came out wobbly. “I said I hate you.”
The woman’s eyes darkened. “Well, I hate you, too, kid. So I guess we’re even.”
Zoe drew a sharp breath of surprise, looking as though she’d been kicked in the stomach.
The woman turned to leave.
“And I’m going to tell Dad . . . everything,” Zoe shot back, her eyes shining with tears.
The woman froze in the doorway. “Oh, you will, will you?” Their mother turned, and in a flash, she was in front of Zoe, slapping her hard across the face. Before Zoe could even bring her hand to her cheek, she slapped her a second time. A trickle of blood bloomed on Zoe’s lower lip—and Carrie could taste the tang of blood in Zoe’s mouth.
Carrie jumped off the bed and wedged herself between the two of them.
Her mother chuckled and gazed at Carrie as though she pitied her. “Oh, little Carrying Carrie. Always protecting your sister. Not like she’d ever protect you.”
Carrie refused to look her mother in the eye. She just wanted her to go away. Unlike Zoe, Carrie’s heart had hardened against the woman. Inside it now burned a hatred she had no idea she was even capable of feeling. Her mother had lost her love—and much of her power over her—three years ago . . . exactly two weeks after Joey died . . . when she’d done something completely unforgivable to Zoe.
Something Carrie would never, ever forget.
The woman’s steely eyes bore into Zoe’s. “That was just a little preview of what you’ll get if you tell your father. You tell him, and you’ll be sorry. And I mean really sorry. You’ll never be allowed back in this house again. In fact, I’ll send you to live with your grandmother.”
Carrie gazed at her sister’s tear-streaked face. There was pain in her eyes. Her nose was running and a small trickle of blood was oozing down her chin. But she didn’t seem to notice.
“See, if you tell, I’ll know I can’t trust you anymore. So off to Grandmother’s you’ll go. Now you wouldn’t want that, would you?”
It was the threat their mother had always hung over their heads so that they wouldn’t tell anyone her secrets. Still, Carrie shuddered, thinking about the possibility. It was miserable living with their mother, but Grandmother? She wasn’t just mean, she was plumb crazy. All their lives their mother had told them stories about the awful things their grandmother had done—some of which, now that Carrie was older, she realized probably hadn’t been true—and they’d always been frightened of her.
“And if you think you’re miserable now with me, wait ’til you live with her. I did, and I barely got out alive.”
Zoe shook her head. “No, we’d live with Dad.”
Their mother chuckled. “They never give children to their daddies. Don’t you know that? Plus, that dad of yours would never take you in, even if he could. He’s not cut out for kids. His time alone on the road is way more important to him than you two. More important than anyone. One day you’ll come to realize that, and you’ll stop looking at him that stupid way you do. Like he’s some goddamn hero.”
A man’s deep voice traveled from down the hallway. “Julie? You comin’ back, hon?”
Gary.
After their mother left the room, Carrie was able to relax again. She turned to her sister, who had gone to the window and was staring out. Carrie placed a hand on her back and realized she was trembling. “You okay?”
Zoe shook her head. When Carrie’s eyes met Zoe’s, she saw not Zoe’s usual strength and sass, but emptiness. It was as though the light that had always been there, that seemed to be flickering—barely holding on—for as long as she could remember, had finally been snuffed out.
Allie stood in the doorway of the small room at Sunny Lawn Child and Adolescent Psychiatric Center and watched Carrie lay on her back, blinking up at the ceiling. Bitty, Zoe, and Sammy were waiting in the lobby.
Allie was so relieved the girl had pulled through. They were told in the emergency room that if it had taken just a mere ten minutes longer for help to arrive, she probably wouldn’t have.
The center was a two-hour drive from their house, and Carrie was expected to stay for a minimum of five days. She’d already been there for three. Bitty and Zoe drove back and forth each day, but this was Allie’s first visit.
“Hi, Carrie,” she said, stepping into the room.
Carrie turned her head and looked at Allie, her face blank. Then she returned her attention to the ceiling.
Breathing in the scent of antiseptic, Allie remembered Carrie’s words at the Parishes’ home while she’d lain trembling on the bathroom floor:
Everyone’s always thinking of you. But whoever thinks of me? Let me go. If you do, I promise, your life will be much easier.
She’d been wondering about those words for days. What had they meant? Allie had put a lot of thought into Zoe’s strange reaction to her sister’s suicid
e attempt, too. How she’d responded when Bitty had asked for help. How cold she had been . . . expressing no compassion, only anger at her sister.
Bitty had explained that Zoe had been in shock. That her reaction wasn’t abnormal. Allie remembered her own shock when her brother had killed himself when she was fifteen. Maybe if she hadn’t blamed herself so much for his suicide, she would’ve been angry at him, too. Thinking back on it, she was pretty sure she would’ve been.
Yesterday, they’d celebrated Thanksgiving without Carrie. It had just been a quiet dinner. Bitty and Zoe had been tired from their trip to Dallas . . . and even Sammy was quieter than usual. He’d asked a million questions about why Carrie would have to stay in a hospital for so long just because she was sad, and hadn’t seemed satisfied with her answers, which of course skirted around the disturbing fact that she’d slit her wrists.
Allie took a seat on the side of Carrie’s bed, then, careful not to touch the bandage around her wrist, reached for the girl’s hand. It felt smaller, cooler, and more limp than before. Carrie didn’t react at all to the touch. She just kept staring at the ceiling.
Swallowing back tears, Allie looked around. The floors were all pristine white tile, and the walls were a soft shade of green. The same shade of green many of the hospital’s personnel wore. As she’d walked to Carrie’s room, she’d passed several signs that contained sunny pictures and positive affirmations of hope. Sunny Lawn seemed like a really nice place. She had no idea that places like these even existed.
“We miss you at the house,” Allie said, studying the bandages on Carrie’s wrists. She remembered the deep cuts Carrie had made in her wrists. They’d been a clear sign that Carrie hadn’t simply been crying for help.
She had wanted to get the job done . . . and quickly.
Carrie peered back at her, her brown eyes unfocused, probably due to the trazadone Bitty said they had put her on to help with the anxiety.
“I was an orphan, too,” Allie said. “I bet you didn’t know that. I never had much family. Just a mother and a brother. But they were really sick, and both were dead by the time I was fifteen.” Carrie’s eyes remained on Allie’s, as though maybe she was listening. “After they died, I tried to kill myself, too. But I didn’t do a very good job of it. Well, obviously. I’m still here.” She swallowed, remembering the filthy motel room. The dirty bathtub. The bottle of pills. The unbearable loneliness. The sheer terror and desperation. “Sometimes I think that I lived because I was meant to be here, you know? Just like you are.” She shook her head. “It would’ve been awful if I would’ve died back then, because I’m so happy now. Back then I had no idea being this happy was even possible.”
She looked at Carrie, and saw the girl’s eyes were shimmering with tears.
“Anyway, I know what it’s like to hurt really, really bad, and to feel like it’ll never get better. To feel completely hopeless. But there’s always hope. And it does get better. It really does . . . especially with good people like Bitty in your corner. She can teach you things. Help you think differently. Help you heal. You just have to let her.”
They sat in silence for a long moment. “Did you make that up? The stuff about your family?” Carrie asked, her voice hoarse.
Allie felt a powerful tide of emotion pass through her. Carrie just spoke to me! She tried to stay calm, not to show her surprise . . . how excited she was about finally getting through to the girl. “No,” she answered. “I didn’t make it up. Any of it. But I wish I had.”
CHAPTER 21
WHEN THEY RETURNED home from Dallas, Johnny’s truck was parked in the driveway. Allie’s face grew hot. Johnny wasn’t free just to drop in anymore. Didn’t he know that?
She threw the truck into park and glimpsed Johnny sitting on the porch, shielding his eyes from the bright beams of the headlights. She asked Bitty to unbuckle a sleeping Sammy from his car seat and put him to bed, then she stepped out into the chilly night and marched up to Johnny.
When he saw her, he stood and opened his arms. “Hey, li’l bit. Welcome home.”
“What do you think you’re doing?” she demanded.
“Well, I didn’t think it would be a good idea to go in, so I just waited out here.”
“That’s not what I meant,” she snapped. “I meant what are you doing here? At my house?”
“Whoa, there. I just came here to see my boy. And you, too, of course.”
“Yeah? Well, when did you get here?”
“I don’t know. About twenty minutes ago? Thirty? Why?”
Just as she suspected. “It’s almost ten o’clock and you’re telling me you came to see Sammy, who has an eight-thirty bedtime? Who’s had an eight-thirty bedtime for almost three years now?” She stared at him, incredulous. “That’s bullshit, Johnny. You didn’t drive here to see your son, and you know it.”
He shrugged. “I would’ve been here earlier, but you weren’t answering my texts.”
Since Allie’d seen him last, she’d received about fifty texts. All I miss yous and I love yous, and let’s work this out, but he hadn’t mentioned Sammy once. That fact hadn’t been lost on her then, and wasn’t lost on her now.
After Bitty, Zoe, and Sammy were safely inside and had time to clear the foyer, Allie led Johnny into the house, but stopped him as he tried to walk into the living room.
“Look, we need to have a talk. A serious one,” he said. “I’ve been thinking about things. A lot of things.”
“What things?”
His brown eyes held hers. “Let’s move in together,” he blurted out. “Get a place of our own. I want to give you and Sammy that. You guys deserve that.”
It was too little, way too late. She was done with Johnny as a boyfriend . . . or whatever it was that he’d been the last several years. Ending things with him had been the right thing to do. She only wished she’d done it sooner.
Now he was just Sammy’s father. The only serious discussions they would need to have would be centered around Sammy and Sammy only.
Johnny’s mouth spread into a smile. “So what do you think? Wouldn’t that be nice? A place of our own? A safer, calmer place for Sammy to live? Just think, having Sammy around weird kids like those little girls all the time can’t be good, Allie.”
Anger flared in her belly. “Weird kids?”
A floorboard creaked. Allie turned and saw Zoe peeking from around the corner.
“Is everything okay?” Allie asked. “Do you need something?”
“Sorry,” Zoe said. “I just wanted some water, but I didn’t want to . . . disturb you.”
“I’ll get it for you.”
Zoe shook her head. “No, I’ve got it.” The girl’s eyes quickly flitted to Johnny as she hurried to the kitchen, and Allie wondered if she’d heard what Johnny had said. She hoped not.
“Well, can I sit down?” Johnny asked.
“No,” Allie said firmly. She held her hand out, palm up. “I want your key.”
“What?”
“Your key. Now.”
“Hold on. Did you hear what I just said? What I just . . . offered . . . you? We could do it fast, too. Fast enough to be settled in by Christmas. Think about it. We can spend our first Christmas together . . . as a family.”
He had no idea how badly she used to long for that scenario. Her, Johnny, Sammy, and Bitty together for the holidays. Johnny had never spent the holidays with them. Not even one.
She waited until Zoe left the kitchen and she heard the bedroom door click, indicating she was back in her room.
“Did you hear me?” Johnny asked.
“Yes, I heard you,” she barked. “But let’s get a couple of things straight. First of all, don’t you ever, ever call anyone in this house weird again. And I mean ever. Do you understand me? Those kids have gone through things you could never imagine. Stuff that I’m pretty damn sure you’d never survive.”
Johnny lifted his palms in mock surrender. “Sorry, I didn’t mean anything. It’s just that kids who scream�
��”
“And secondly,” she interrupted, her words coming faster, her tone sharper. “You and I are over. What do I need to do to get you to understand that?”
He stared at her in silence.
“I tried for years to make you happy, Johnny. To get you to take Sammy and me seriously . . . and you didn’t give a shit. But, you know what? I finally pulled my head out of my ass and did what was right for us—and I am so happy I did. I only wish I’d done it sooner.”
His shoulders slumped as the realization that she was serious finally dawned on him.
“So from here on, you are Sammy’s father. That’s it. When you’re ready to be a father to him, give us a call. Otherwise I have nothing to say to you.”
She swung the door open, and the chilly night air flooded in. “Now give me the goddamn key, because you really need to go.”
After Johnny left, Allie went to her bathroom to take her medicine and wash up. When she was done, Zoe was standing in the doorway.
“Hey. What’s up?” Allie asked.
“Nothing really.”
She noticed Zoe had changed clothes since they’d been home. She was now wearing another of Allie’s T-shirts, for the third time this week. Allie wondered why, since Bitty had just filled their closet with a new wardrobe.
“Don’t you like your new clothes?” Allie asked.
Zoe looked puzzled, then she glanced down at the shirt. Her face reddened. “Oh, sorry. I was helping with the laundry and I liked it, is all, so I pulled it out. I guess I should take it off and give it back to you?”
“No, you don’t need to do that. It’s okay.” Allie smiled so that the girl truly knew it was.
“So, uh . . . are you leaving?” Zoe finally asked.
“Leaving?”
“Yeah. I wasn’t trying to eavesdrop or anything, but I heard your boyfriend ask you to move in with him.”
“He’s not my boyfriend. And no, I’m not leaving. I’m staying put right here.”
Zoe’s eyes widened. “Really?”
“Really.”
Relief washed over the girl’s face and she smiled.
Don't Say a Word (Strangers Series) Page 11