He grunted again, nodded, and had started to turn away when the whir of skateboard wheels rolling over cracked pavement came from down the block. Star stiffened, tried to grow smaller, pulling inside her too-big coat like a turtle in her shell. She knew the sound. Street kids, like her. And drug dealers, like her father.
From the corner of her eye, she saw a tall kid in a baggy sweatshirt, greasy yellow hair poking out of his wide-brimmed hat, flanked by two boys and a girl. The tall boy was Shred, and Star had learned quickly that he was dangerous. In her months on the street, she’d tried to make herself invisible, staying away from his places, going in a different direction whenever she could. Despite her efforts he’d noticed her, and she could feel him staring at her now. The muscles in her legs cramped, and her skin crawled. It was only a matter of time.
The skateboard wheels faded down the street, and Star looked up to find that Mel had stood in front of her the entire time, nearly blocking her from view. Something twisted in her chest, and she had to look away.
She smiled into her hair when she heard Mel grunt a final time, and then the squeal of his cart started up again. When she finally looked up, his hunched form was crossing the mall.
Another bus pulled up and unloaded more people. Time to get moving. She stood and headed down Sixteenth Street Mall, letting her long black hair swing around her face as she walked. Her favorite place to hang for the day was directly across from a gourmet chocolate shop. While its out-of-the-way location didn’t make it the hottest spot to beg, the odds of someone buying her a hot chocolate were pretty good.
Her boots made dull thumping noises on the pavement. She’d hoped that if she kept to herself the other kids would leave her alone, let her do her time until she was eighteen. Then she figured she could win the lottery, go back to school, and buy sheets for her very own bed in her very own apartment. She wasn’t stupid, but she needed to dream or this place was going to tear her apart.
A little while later, she inhaled the sweet aroma of chocolate and for the moment let herself forget whatever Shred might or might not want. She took a sunny spot on a low garden wall and leaned back on her hands. A man jogged past in dark-gray sweatpants, earphones in, eyes glued to the phone in his hand. He was followed by a young woman pushing a little brown-haired girl in a stroller. The girl was sound asleep; her mother glanced nervously at Star and walked faster.
Star shrugged, slid her hands under her thighs, and bounced her heels against the garden wall. The woman’s reaction didn’t surprise her anymore. She was used to making people uncomfortable.
Girlish laughter and the soft strumming of guitars drifted from a spot just past the chocolate shop. She looked over her shoulder. Two girls sat cross-legged on the ground, guitars in their laps. One with dreads poked the other one in the shoulder, and they both laughed again. Star knew the type—band followers who ran out of money and got stuck. Probably had two parents, a little sister with shiny pigtails, and a golden retriever waiting for them back home in their four-bedroom mansion with a pool. Star couldn’t relate; she’d never had a pool. But once upon a time she did have two parents and a pretty decent house.
She sniffed, looked away, and scooched farther back on the wall so that she was partially hidden behind a leafy green bush. Thinking about what she didn’t have did nothing to get her through the day, so she focused on the guitar music that had started up again and listened as one of the girls began to sing in a voice that slipped over the words like ribbons of honey.
Star relaxed, tilting her head to let the weak morning sun touch her face. A glint of scarlet flashed in the corner of her eye, and she turned to see a woman with bright-red hair staring at her from across the street.
She crossed her arms and stared back. When the woman didn’t look away, Star bristled. Rude. She hopped up from the wall, making a beeline across the street. If the old lady was gonna stare like that, then she might as well give her some money.
As Star drew closer, the little hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. Her feet dragged. Maybe she shouldn’t bother with this one. The woman’s dress made her look out of place: long with a big black skirt, more like a costume. She was probably mental.
The girl’s singing faded into silence. Despite the alarm bells clanging in her head, Star couldn’t stop herself, and soon she stood opposite the old lady. The woman continued to stare, her eyes wide and unblinking. This woman couldn’t possibly have money to spare.
Then Star noticed the little boy partially hidden behind her skirts. He was small, seven or eight, and stood unnaturally still. He’d pulled the hood of his red sweatshirt over his head and cinched it so tight she couldn’t see his face. Star pushed a ratted strand of hair behind one ear and gave him a small smile. He didn’t move.
She sighed, planted her feet, and straightened her spine. Maybe the old lady would be extra generous to impress her grandson.
“Excuse me.” Star held her hands out in front of her, palms spread wide. Up close, the woman looked even older, the skin of her face crisscrossed with deep lines. They ran across her forehead, shot out from her eyes, and fell down her cheeks, where they disappeared over the flabby jowls hanging from her jaw. Man, this woman was old.
The woman’s eyes shifted, and she turned her head to look down at her grandson. The boy hadn’t moved, and his stillness left Star cold. She slid her hands into her pockets, fingering the rock.
Her stomach growled, and she sighed. She needed the money. “Hey,” she said, and the woman jerked her eyes away from her grandson. “I was wondering if you’d spare some change? I need to catch a bus so I can go see my parents. They live outside Durango.”
The old woman moved forward until the hem of her black skirt swung close to Star’s leg. “I’m Lucy,” she said in a voice that sounded soft but scratchy, like silk over sandpaper.
“Okay.” Great, a first-name basis. Lucy was probably a do-gooder who thought having a conversation would make Star feel more human. Like it was better than money. Star crossed her arms. Food and water beat conversation any day. She’d better cut to the chase before the old lady asked for her favorite color. “Listen, Lucy. I don’t have parents in Durango. The truth is I don’t have parents at all. At least not anymore. But I do need money. And that’s something I never lie about.”
Lucy raised a gnarled finger toward Star’s chin, but when Star flinched, she took her hand away, staring. Star couldn’t look away from Lucy’s eyes. The color was like nothing she’d ever seen—the bottomless blue of a glacier with hunks of amber and emerald that seemed to spin. Her stomach churned, and a tremor ran through her legs, making her knees wobbly.
“Just a few dollars,” Star said, her voice shaking along with her body. “Nothing that’ll break the bank.” But Lucy still didn’t respond, and all Star could focus on were the spinning flecks of color in the old woman’s eyes, making her feel dizzy. She gripped her toes into her shoes to steady herself.
“Another loose end,” Lucy whispered.
Star opened her mouth to speak. What could this crazy old bat mean? Her bones felt welded together at every joint. With great effort, she finally wrenched her feet from the ground and stumbled backward. No amount of money was worth this woman’s kind of crazy.
But when she turned to go, she noticed the little boy in the red sweatshirt had disappeared, and she felt a pang, thinking of a kid that young getting lost on the streets. She pointed behind Lucy. “Your grandson.”
Lucy waved her hand dismissively. “He’ll be back,” she said.
Two women walked down the sidewalk and came to a stop on either side of Lucy, a pair of bookend bodyguards. One wore denim overalls and had her curly gray hair tied into pigtails. She grasped a to-go cup of coffee in each hand and gave Star a friendly half smile. The other was much younger. Her dark-brown hair was pulled into a tight ponytail. A deep frown wrinkled the skin between her eyes.
“Make a new friend, Lucy?” the young one asked, her voice soft and kind.
Star crossed her arms, narrowed her eyes. She didn’t need their pity.
“Is this the girl, Luce?” asked the woman with gray hair, who gave Star a wide, easy smile.
Star shifted her weight. She wanted to leave this odd trio behind and find someone else to pester, but her feet wouldn’t move.
Lucy tilted her head to the side, and to Star it looked like she was straining to listen to something only she could hear. Then she gave a slight nod, and the corners of her mouth turned down in a frown. “You’re in danger,” she said. “I don’t understand yet, but it’s not safe for you here.”
Star felt her body relax, and for the first time she wanted to laugh. Of course she was in danger. She was a teenager living on the streets. Now she understood Lucy’s weird outfit; she was one of those fake psychics who told paying customers the obvious. Maybe the old woman would ask her for money. “Lady,” she said, “no disrespect, but that’s not exactly news to me.”
Lucy shook her head vigorously from side to side, looking confused and upset, and for a moment Star almost felt sorry for her. The younger woman placed a hand on her arm. “Should we go?”
Lucy shook off the woman’s hand. “Not yet, Jess.” She stepped toward Star, her gaze so intense that Star lifted her chin and backed away, her hands balled into fists by her sides.
“He says you’re a loose end.”
Star shivered. “I don’t need this,” she muttered, and hurried across the street. Lucy’s last words followed her as she half walked, half stumbled back to her spot on the garden wall.
“I take care of all my loose ends, girl.”
CHAPTER THREE
JESS
She stared at the yellow sticky note clinging to the bathroom mirror. Wash your hands! Jess pulled off the note, turning it upside down to rest on the counter while she cleaned the mirror. She scrubbed at the spotless surface, wiping along the edges, imagining stubborn water spots and smears of toothpaste. Studying the mirror, she nodded. Check that off my list. With just the two of them and four bathrooms to choose from, it had already been clean. Now it just looked cleaner, but Jess didn’t mind, even if it was Sunday and Lucy had tried to get her to take the day off. She enjoyed the work and preferred doing something to nothing.
She stuck the note back onto the mirror and checked her watch. It was nine o’clock. Time for breakfast. It was staggering how her life had changed since Wednesday, and Jess was surprised at how quickly she had grown comfortable in her new role and with Lucy. It was hard not to like the old woman, even if she was an odd mix of fairy godmother and witch.
On that first afternoon in Pine Lake, after she’d accepted the job, she’d followed Lucy up the road behind the market to a large gray Victorian home perched on a hillside above town. Jess found the style of the house at odds with the western buildings that lined Main Street, but Lucy informed her that it was a town original, built by her parents when they moved from Boston.
She put the cleaning supplies away and headed down the wide staircase, trailing her hand along the smooth wood of the banister. The bottom of the stairs opened into the high-ceilinged foyer, where the staircase curved outward on either end. Jess’s favorite detail in the house was the elaborate lamps affixed to the end of each banister. They were identical, each a mirrored iron sculpture of a scaled serpent nearly swallowing a yellow globe in its mouth. At night the lamps glowed yellow, reflecting against the parquet wood floor and casting warmth that spread throughout the house. Lucy had called them newel lamps and said they were original to the house.
Jess wasn’t used to big houses like this one. She’d only lived in tiny apartments with one bathroom and a kitchen with a two-burner stove. Lucy’s house felt cavernous with only two people inside. It didn’t help that it seemed to move and breathe like it was alive. The floorboards creaked, the walls groaned, and doors slipped open on occasion, even after Jess made sure to pull them shut until she heard a click. Bad hinges, Lucy had assured her. For the most part, though, Jess was learning to ignore the home’s odd quirks in favor of a job she enjoyed very much.
She touched one of the globes as she passed—it was cold, the light turned off until the evening—and crossed the foyer, her feet making light tapping noises as she walked. At the doorway to the kitchen, she hesitated. Her back tingled; she felt like she was being watched. She tensed, turned. Someone stood at the end of the narrow first-floor hallway, reaching for her with long, thin arms. She gave a strangled cry and stumbled backward. With her heart racing, she shook her head and looked again, laughed weakly. No, not a person—an antique coat-tree with long metal arms that held several of Lucy’s black wool coats. Goddamn, she was jumpy. It wasn’t the first time she’d imagined seeing something here. With its tight corners and muddled lighting, Lucy’s house played tricks on her.
She crossed the kitchen to where a paper calendar hung on a pushpin next to a flesh-colored phone. The ancient wall-mounted phone had a cord that stretched to the floor, where it lay across the laminate tiles like unspooled intestines. It was the only one in the entire house, and it hadn’t rung once this week. Jess had even put her ear to the receiver to make sure it had a dial tone.
Lucy had informed her that whatever she had planned for the day would always be on the calendar, and she insisted that Jess check it every day, sometimes more than once. Lucy was serious about her schedule. But on Friday night, Jess had forgotten, and when she woke up yesterday morning, she’d found Lucy waiting for her in the kitchen, jangling the car keys in her direction. Where are we going? Jess had asked.
Lucy pursed her lips, shook her head, and rolled her eyes toward the calendar. I like to people watch in Denver. Phoebe usually drives, but I told her that you could do it this time.
Lucy had raised her eyebrows as though expecting Jess to protest, but as much as she didn’t want to go back to the city, a bigger part of her was curious about what Lucy did with her time. Jess sighed. As it turned out, Lucy had a soft spot for street kids, even talking to one girl who ran off, probably spooked by Lucy’s clothes and eyes. Jess rubbed the back of her neck, trying to ignore the prickle of guilt. She’d lived in the city for years, but there was something about going back as a visitor that had made the contrasts sharper; an old woman huddled in a doorway with red, chapped lips and a sign that read HAVE NOBODY, NEED MONEY and more teens than she remembered with broken teeth and yellow skin hanging in loose groups or alone, like the girl, while people walked past in shoes without holes, eyes trained on phones.
When they got back to Pine Lake, Jess had sipped in the mountain air, relieved to be back.
She ran her finger over the squares of the calendar until she located the one for today, Sunday. Lucy’s handwriting filled the square.
Clean under beds, be careful.
Jess wrinkled her forehead. Statements like these were as common to Lucy as her sharp wit, and it was a bewildering blend that both amused and worried Jess.
She turned to open the refrigerator and paused. A dozen or so yellow sticky notes covered the front, each one with a directive.
Eat breakfast!
Put away the milk!
Don’t drive!
Take a coat!
She sucked in her bottom lip. Lucy had notes like these scattered all over the house. Her memory did seem to blur at times, but to Jess it appeared as though she simply lost herself in a moment. Her spells, as Jess had come to think of them. Because for an eighty-five-year-old woman, Lucy was physically strong and sharp as a tack.
While the scrambled eggs cooked in a cast-iron skillet, she reached for a wooden tray above the refrigerator, scraped the eggs onto a small plate, and added a side of buttered toast and a glass of orange juice. After years of waitressing, Jess knew how to handle a tray.
She tapped on Lucy’s bedroom door. “Breakfast.” She waited, but after no response, her heart missed a beat. The juice sloshed over the side of the glass, staining the cloth napkin a bright orange. “Lucy?” She pushed open the door with her hip to find Lucy
sitting up in bed, the covers tucked around her waist, her back resting against the headboard of a massive four-poster bed. Awake and smiling.
Jess relaxed. Lucy’s spells lasted only a few moments, and for the time being, she didn’t think there was cause to be too concerned. But as Jess was the first caregiver Lucy had hired, she felt the responsibility for her health resting heavily on her shoulders. She’d already planned to speak with Lucy’s doctor.
“Have you checked the calendar, Jess?”
Jess pulled the legs down on the tray and placed it across Lucy’s lap. She smiled, nodded. “I’ll get to the beds right after breakfast.”
Lucy waved a hand in the air. “Not that. My visitor. Is she coming?”
Jess shook her head. “Phoebe? She didn’t mention anything about stopping by today.”
“Not Phoebe.” Lucy turned to gaze out the window.
Jess pressed her lips together, feeling like she’d entered the conversation late. She felt that way a lot. Trying to change the subject, she asked, “Have you lived alone your whole life, Lucy?”
Lucy folded her hands in her lap. “Not my whole life. I lived with my mother until I was eighteen. But then she died and . . .” She paused. “Well, let’s just say it was much harder being on my own than I thought it would be.”
Jess nodded. She’d been on her own at that age, too, a young, single mother with no one to help her but herself.
You will get an abortion. Her mother’s words had shattered whatever scrap of hope Jess had that maybe, just this once, she would be the kind of mother Jess had always wanted. Someone to tell her it would be okay, someone who made her feel like she mattered, someone to love her. She’d pressed her palm against the flat space below her belly button as though her mom’s words had teeth that could rip away at her flesh. Jess didn’t want to be pregnant—she was only sixteen—but when she saw the two lines on the test, her heart fluttered against her rib cage and she knew that it was no mistake. She was meant to have this baby, meant to love this baby.
The Secrets of Lost Stones Page 3