Summer by the River

by Debbie Burns

  She kept quiet, dividing her dough and squishing it in her small hands.

  Carter moved on to thinking about how quiet it was upstairs. He wondered what kind of mood Josie would be in when she came downstairs, and if he should wind up the Play-Doh foray and get to making dinner.

  “You’re my favorite smell,” Zoe said, taking him by surprise.

  He paused with his fingers cupped around the bird nest he was building. He was as moved as when he’d taken her to the doughnut event at her school and he’d overheard her tell one of her classmates that he was more fun to play with than anyone she knew. “Thank you, Zoe.”

  “For liking your smell?”

  Chuckling, he ruffled her hair without thinking, then brushed away at the few dabs of dough that were left behind. “For trusting me enough to tell me.”

  Zoe dropped her ball of dough and wrapped her arms around his leg, pressing her cheek into the side of his hip. “I want you to be here always.”

  After taking a handful of seconds to consider how best to respond, Carter lifted her to a clean spot on the counter and brushed her bangs away from her face so she could see him clearly. “I can’t promise you to always be here, as much as I might like to be. But I can promise to always be in your life, one way or another.”

  “What does one way or another mean?”

  “It can mean different things for different people. For me, it means if I end up living someplace where you aren’t someday, I promise to stay in touch through phone calls and letters and trips. That sort of thing.”

  Zoe nodded and swept her hair out of her face, leaving a trail of flour across her cheek. “I’d like my way better.”

  He smiled as Buttercup began to lick her bare toes, which were dangling in the air. Zoe must not have been ticklish because she wasn’t fazed.

  “You know what? I would too. And I bet Buttercup seconds that.” He didn’t realize that the door had swung open and Josie was joining them until he’d said it.

  Seeing her, Zoe hopped down and dragged Josie toward her mound of dough. It only took a glance for Carter to confirm Josie had shed some tears while she and Myra were talking.

  After pulling her in for a hug and a light kiss, he gave her free rein to take over his mound of dough.

  “I went to the grocery store this afternoon. You may win every cook-off, but I’ve got mad grilling skills.” He could grill just about anything, from meat to veggies and the occasional pizza or piece of fruit. He’d even done an impressive job with an eighteen-pound turkey. Tonight, he was grilling chicken and asparagus and baking russet potatoes.

  “Cooking tonight, drinking tea, and stepping in to help serve at lunch. You’re full of surprises today, Mr. O’Brien.”

  “Mr. O’Brien!” Zoe pulled her hunk of dough apart and giggled. “Just call him Carter, Mommy.”

  Carter grabbed the wooden crate of potatoes and selected enough for dinner. “It’s nice to feel like a productive member of this household.”

  “What’s a household?”

  “A group of people who live under the same roof.”

  “Like a family?”

  Zoe was between them, but Carter met Josie’s puffy-eyed gaze and raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, like a family.”

  A bit to his surprise, Josie raised one back at him and agreed.

  By the time dinner was finished and they’d eaten, Josie was still a bit puffy-eyed and nasal but considerably better than when she’d first come downstairs. Carter appreciated that, when Zoe finally noticed, she didn’t lie about having cried. “Sometimes grown-ups fill up with tears and need to get them out, just like kids,” was all she said, and Zoe didn’t press beyond asking, “But you’re okay now, Mom, right?”

  By the fun they had with the Play-Doh while Carter was cooking, Zoe had little reason to doubt she was.

  When Zoe realized it was time to go get ready for bed, her shoulders dropped, and she let out a huff. “Mommy, can Carter give me a bath tonight?” She folded her hands in prayer. “Please?” she added when Josie didn’t immediately respond.

  Zoe’s nightly bath and story time was her and Josie’s special time together. Even Myra never stepped in. He was surprised when Josie asked if he wanted to.

  Carter wasn’t entirely confident in agreeing to it; he’d made it to nearly thirty-five and had never given a kid a bath before. “Yeah, I’d like that. Just tell me what to do.”

  “Zoe knows how she likes the water.”

  “Can I have bubbles?” Zoe jumped up and down.

  “So long as you agree to wash them off when it’s time to get out,” Josie said, sweeping her hair into a fresh knot.

  Zoe lifted her hand to high-five them both, something she’d picked up at school and had been doing nonstop for the last week or two.

  Bath time was easier than he would’ve guessed. Mostly, he watched her splash around and answered a dozen or so questions about things he’d not given much thought to in years, like why bubbles were round, what happened to them when they popped, and if he liked to read stories before he fell asleep.

  Josie joined them as Zoe was drying off and getting into her pajamas. Buttercup, who’d hung out downstairs with Josie while she did the dishes, most likely hoping to snatch up a few discarded scraps, joined them as well. He sniffed Zoe in earnest as if trying to discern who’d replaced her with someone so clean smelling.

  “Can Carter stay while we read, Mom? We could go to your bed ’cuz it’s bigger.”

  Again, Josie surprised him by agreeing. Zoe zoomed over and stripped back Josie’s bedspread and sheets as he finished washing out the tub. She crawled in and ushered him in after her. Josie chose the night’s selection from Zoe’s crowded bookshelf and joined on the opposite side. Barefoot but in jeans and a long-sleeve Henley, Carter settled in, appreciating Zoe’s small body pressing against his and the sweet, clean smell clinging to her damp skin and hair.

  “You can read, Carter.” Josie passed him Zoe’s Frog and Toad collection.

  “I read these when I was a kid.”

  Wrapping a hand around her mom’s arm like a security blanket, Zoe curled into Carter and slipped her small feet underneath his knee. Carter figured he might as well be drawn and quartered; Josie and her little girl had taken a claim to his heart like no one ever had.

  Determining they were settling in for a while, Buttercup clambered onto the bottom of the bed and stretched out across the length of it; his back legs draped over Carter’s feet.

  By the time Carter was finished reading Frog and Toad All Year, Zoe was yawning heavily, and Buttercup was snoring.

  Too soon, Josie was ushering Zoe to her own bed.

  “You’re a good reader, Carter.” Zoe pressed a small kiss against his cheek, then dragged a hand across her mouth. “Your cheeks are prickly. They tickle my lips.”

  “Oh yeah? Sorry about that.”

  “It’s a good tickle, not a bad one.”

  “Thanks for asking me to read with you. Night, kid. I love you.”

  “Love you too.”

  Josie walked around to Carter’s side to take the book and gave his leg a gentle squeeze before heading into Zoe’s side of the double room. “She’ll be asleep in seconds if you want to stay.”

  Carter did. Before tonight, he’d never spent more than a few seconds in Josie’s room. The wallpaper wasn’t his style—too Victorian, but she’d done things to breathe new life into the room, from the string of soft lights accompanying the crown molding in both rooms to the large framed black-and-white photos of Zoe to the updated bedspread and mattress.

  As Josie tucked Zoe in and curled beside her, Buttercup thumped his tail. For a few seconds, he seemed to be considering switching beds but decided against it, leaving his back legs sprawled atop Carter’s ankles. Carter adjusted the pillow under his head and closed his eyes. He had no idea he was close to
doing it, but he must have fallen into a doze, because the next thing he knew, Josie was curling up beside him. Wrapping his arm around her, he noticed she’d changed into her nightgown.

  “She’s out that fast?” He cleared his throat and worked to keep his voice low in case Zoe was a light sleeper.

  He saw the whites of Josie’s teeth in the dark and knew she was smiling. “How do you know it was fast when you were out like a light too?”

  “You got me there. Will we wake her?”

  “A bulldozer wouldn’t wake her, trust me.”

  He chuckled. “Feeling any better?”

  She burrowed into the crook of his arm, resting her head on his chest. “Sort of. After a good night’s sleep, I’ll be normal again.” After a pause, she added, “Thanks for being so good with her. With both of us.”

  “You make it easy. You both do.”

  A comfortable silence lapsed between them, extending long enough for him to suspect she was falling asleep. “I don’t think I do. But I’ll try harder,” she said, surprising him with how awake she still was.

  “Trust me. You do. Whatever happened to you, I’m here for you.”

  “That’s what scares me.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “I know. I’m sorry I can’t explain it better.” She pressed her lips into his chest. “Will you stay till I’m asleep?”

  “Yeah, and longer if you want me.”

  She gave a light shake of her head. “I do, but the nightmares will be worse if you’re here.”

  A surge of rage washed over him, and he did his best not to let her pick up on it. Whoever had done this to her—if he ever met them… And her brother, Carter could only presume his death hadn’t been accidental. The anger flowing through his veins kept him awake until her breathing became deep and even.

  Discovering that his feet had gone numb where Buttercup had been lying on them, he rolled his ankles in few circles before standing. He covered Josie and paused at the door, listening to her and Zoe’s slightly out-of-sync breathing. Standing there, he knew what he had to do. He needed to find out the truth that was too painful for Josie to tell him.

  It took a few hours of searching to realize Myra had all but spelled out what he needed to know. It didn’t seem real when he first spotted it, an excerpt of an article on a young woman’s disappearance the same day of a string of brutal homicides that took the lives of her mother and brother. It was the brother’s name that caused the adrenaline to dump into his system. Sam Pictures.

  Heart hammering in his chest, Carter clicked on the link and found himself staring into the eyes of a younger image of the woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with.

  His stomach flipped in a mixture of guilt and relief.

  He’d found her.

  Adrenaline coursed through him so heavily that he struggled to decipher the words accompanying her photograph. When he finally did, he wished he’d stayed upstairs next to her, soaking in her warmth and her smell.

  After reading it, it was hard to think anything would ever be the same.

  Josie Pictures. A twenty-year-old young woman whose disappearance was presumed to be related to the disappearance of an eleven-month old girl named Zoe Claire Lehman whose mother was murdered that same day. One of eighteen deaths in a string of gang-related shootings over two brutal days.

  It was the only thing he’d never considered. Zoe not actually being hers.

  Chapter 29

  Josie was six blocks from her apartment at the drugstore where she worked most evenings when Sam came in carrying a whimpering baby in his arms. The sight struck her as insanely out of place; her brother didn’t know a thing about babies and had no business looking after one. Even at nineteen, Sam still had a mountain of growing up to do.

  She noticed the panic in his eyes the same time as she realized he was gasping for breath, and she stopped thinking about baby care. Adrenaline flooded through her even before she spotted the butt of a handgun shoved into his front pocket.

  Sam didn’t carry guns. He’d made a million and one mistakes, but he’d never touched a gun. Until now.

  “What the heck, Sam?” She was behind the counter and a short line of people were waiting to be checked out. He walked around the counter without a word and grabbed her by the elbow with his free hand, dragging her toward the interior of the store.

  She opened her mouth to protest, thinking how she couldn’t walk away from the register. Her manager was in back, and she was about to call her for help when Sam stopped her.

  “Just shut up and listen, okay? I can hardly think with this kid screaming in my ear.” His eyes darted toward the front door.

  Dear God, what’s he gotten into, running away with someone’s baby?

  “She’s dead, Josie. They fucking shot her.”

  “Who, Sam, they shot who?”

  “Jena. I swear I didn’t know until today when she called me. It was just one night forever ago.”

  Jena, dead. It seemed impossible. She’d heard Jena and Nico had had a second child but hadn’t allowed herself to think about it until now. Josie had been sleeping with Nico on and off the last few years. Every time she thought she was finished with him for good, something happened to break her resolve, and she’d let him back into her life the way she did the night of Sam’s first OD. Since then, she and Nico had gone on like that, not really together but never a hundred percent apart. The string of ODs and close calls and trouble that Sam had gotten into hadn’t helped her not to need him.

  Josie’s throat stung with bile as Sam’s news settled in. Jena was dead. The finality of it floated in and out of her consciousness. “Nico’s baby.”

  Wet tears clung to the baby’s cheeks, and her fist was crammed in her mouth. The baby’s eyes, something about them…

  “No, Josie. Not Nico’s after all.”

  The implication of Sam’s words struck home. Those eyes, the resemblance was undeniable. “Sam, you didn’t. Not with Jena.”

  Jena’s brother had been one of the most connected dealers in LA before he went to prison. Everyone who skirted street life like Sam and Nico knew who Jena was. And everyone with any sense knew not to mess with her.

  “It’s too late for a lecture; she took a bullet in the head an hour ago. Do you hear me?”

  Josie couldn’t find her voice. Ten feet away, customers were calling out in complaint.

  “Look,” Sam went on, “shit’s gotten serious. A couple of guys from Nico’s crew caught her in bed with a dealer friend of Ty’s. Suddenly everybody’s turning on everybody. Nobody’s safe.”

  Panic flooded her. “Do they know you’re involved? Are they after you now?”

  “I don’t know. She called me to her place this afternoon. She wanted my help getting the baby out of the city. She swore the kid’s mine, and I guess maybe the timing could be right.

  “Then a car pulled up out front, and she dropped the kid in my arms and told me to run out the back. She went to the door and started screaming at a couple badasses that used to run with her brother. Some guy put a bullet in her head before—before—” He shook his head hard before speaking again.

  “Someone’s got to get this kid out of here. They’ll kill her just to make a statement.”

  “Does Nico know?” It didn’t seem possible that he could—that he could be behind any of it. No matter whose kid it was. But the Nico she knew now wasn’t the Nico she’d fallen in love with a lifetime ago. “Did those guys see you? Can anyone trace you back to Jena?”

  He brushed a band of sweat from his forehead. “I don’t think anyone saw me; I didn’t exactly stop to check. And I don’t know who else she told, but I didn’t want to go home in case someone ratted me out.”

  Just then tires screeched to a halt outside the main window, and a series of curses burst out from the customers at the register as t
hey scattered. “Guns,” Josie heard one of them yell.

  “Shit!” Sam dropped the baby in her arms and shoved her behind him. He pulled the gun from his pocket, and Josie’s knees nearly buckled. “Go out the back and run. Now! Whatever you do, don’t look back, and don’t stop running. I’ll find you when things cool down.”

  “No! Come with me, Sam. I’m not leaving you!”

  Sam shoved her into motion. “Hey, somebody up there call the police. Now! Josie, get out of here with that kid! These guys aren’t playing. Just run and don’t look back. I’ll hold them off until the cops come.”

  The world was moving in slow motion. “Okay,” Josie managed to say.

  “Go. Now! And whatever you do, don’t go home.”

  Josie shot one last glance at her brother. The first shot rang out as she was considering dashing into the break room for her purse and phone in her locker. Hearing the plate-glass window shatter, she bolted out the back door instead, setting off the emergency alarm as she went. As soon as she started to run, the baby began to wail.

  Shouts and more gunfire erupted inside as Josie dashed into the parking lot in the fading daylight. A half-dozen shoppers ran out behind her, scattering in all directions. “Run and don’t look back,” Sam had said.

  On legs that felt like rubber, Josie started to do just that.

  Chapter 30

  Myra woke up well before the sun and knew it would be useless to attempt to fall back to sleep. Whatever good they might be doing, her new pills had side effects, not the least of which was that they made her mouth dry enough to rouse her from sleep desperate for water.

  Rather than refilling her cup in the bathroom, she put on her robe and slippers and headed downstairs. She couldn’t deny it any longer; the truth was staring Myra in the face. There was another reason she’d not told Josie aside from wanting to protect her.

  Somehow Josie’s knowing about her condition made it more real. Myra’s world suddenly felt like a movie, and life was watching over her left shoulder while death was over the right. And she couldn’t help but feel she was just getting to the good part.