Just Between You and Me

by Jenny B. Jones

“I’m sorry.” My voice is quiet, reluctant. We didn’t talk like this in the house of Benjamin Montgomery, where his word was law. And if anyone but him had the final say, it was followed by just enough yelling and insults to make you wish he was a man who used his fists instead. Bruises, I could’ve reported. But mean words? Nobody ever cared.

  Dad pours a small glass of milk and sets it beside one plate. “No, you’re not sorry. You been waiting your whole life to talk to me like that. And maybe I deserve it—or maybe I don’t.” He looks into my face. “But we’re not going to upset Riley any more than she already is, so you just keep your smart mouth to yourself around her.”

  He’s weirding me out. It’s like he’s genuinely concerned for Riley. I guess it would be hard for him to hold his head up at Bixby’s Coffee Shop if he lost his own granddaughter. “Do you have any leads on Allison?”

  “I think she might be in the Houston area. One of her old boyfriends lives there. I know he was calling her a lot in the month leading up to her taking off. Or she could be down the street. She’s still got a motley crew of friends here. Who knows?”

  “How did you get this information?”

  “Phone records.” Dad throws down some silverware. “I had gotten Allison a cell phone. So I checked the bill.”

  Wow, I didn’t know he knew how cell phones worked. Heaven knows he never calls me.

  “Are we eating in this millennium or what?” comes a sassy voice. My father gives me a warning look as Riley stomps into the room. “I’m starving.”

  I ruffle the curls on her red head. “I guess you worked up an appetite with all that swimming.” And law breaking.

  “Whatever.” She grabs a handful of fries and dumps them on her plate. Sliding into her seat, she grabs three Ore-Idas at once and takes a bite. Charming.

  God, help me love this child. “So, um, I noticed Dad moved you into my old room. I thought tomorrow after school—and your work release program—we could go shopping.”

  “I don’t like to shop.”

  I sit down and fluff my napkin into my lap. “Everyone likes to shop.”

  “It’s stupid.” She goes out of her way to avoid touching me as she stretches across the table for the ketchup. I pick the bottle up just before she grabs it and hand it to her with a smile.

  “So then what do you like to do, Riley? Do you play sports? Play with dolls?” At this she snorts. “What about video games?”

  “Nah.”

  Dad finally takes his seat, and I begin eating. Just an old habit. Until Dad is seated, no one touches their food. But looking at Riley, ketchup smeared all over her smart mouth, I guess that rule doesn’t hold. I consider blessing our meal, but we were never a praying family. Dad didn’t do church period. Dad didn’t do a lot of things.

  I take a peek at my sister’s child, this little stranger. Allison always made sure I knew her P.O. box for the sake of gifts and monetary contributions, but visits were never allowed. She came up with a million excuses. And the sad thing is, I let her.

  “Do you have friends at school?” I ask.

  Riley takes a big bite of hamburger and talks as she chews. “Tons and tons. Everyone wants to be my friend. They line up at recess to play with me.” Her monotone is as dry as an Arizona desert.

  “Why don’t you tell us what you learned at school,” Dad suggests.

  “Nothing.” Riley shrugs. “ I know it all.”

  “That’s convenient.” I take a sip of tea to keep my mouth busy.

  “I used to know someone else who thought she knew everything.” Dad looks at Riley and jerks his head my way. She spares me a small glance, then rolls her eyes.

  “Do you have a favorite subject?” I ask.

  “Lunch.” Riley dips a fry in ketchup. “I hate school. And I’m not going back tomorrow.”

  “Yes, you are,” Dad says.

  “I’ll run away.”

  “And I’ll find you and send you back. Like last week. And the week before.”

  I stare at my niece’s tornadic hair and too-short pants. What kind of life did my sister give her? “What don’t you like about Ivy Elementary?”

  She props her cheek on her hand and sighs. “The cafeteria gives me gas.”

  Three hours later, I throw myself on Allison’s old bed. It’s exhausting to watch TV when your mind is racing with all the things you can’t say. Dad just sat there silently in his recliner while Riley complained about everything on the show. If I hear the word stupid one more time, I will not be responsible for my actions. And I don’t even want to think about my phone call with John. The man is so nice. God, why don’t I just fall madly in love with him? He’s the very opposite of my father.

  I tuck myself in bed with a travel magazine and read until the lines blur. As I turn the page on “How to Not Lose Your Shirt in Airline Fees,” my ears perk at a noise in the hall. Riley’s door. I stay still as a mouse and continue listening. Maybe she’s just going to the bathroom.

  But when the back door opens, I slide into my flip-flops and leap down the stairs.

  “Riley!” I hiss when I reach the backyard. The cool night air swirls around me, and I cross my arms over my chest. “Riley!” A flash of light has me turning, and I follow the glow and look up. My old tree house.

  I walk to the giant oak and set my foot on the first wobbly plank nailed into the tree. This ladder couldn’t have improved with age. I mutter a silent prayer to not fall on my butt in the dark of night, because I know this kid will leave me for dead.

  “I know you’re up here.” I gingerly reach the top, only to find the door above my head locked.

  “Go away.”

  “I want to talk to you.”

  “Make an appointment with my secretary.”

  Mentally I do the math and calculate back to the year Allison gave birth. How is this kid only ten? “Let me in, Riley.”

  “I’d rather eat cow brains.”

  I give the door three taps in the center and one giant push. It gives instantly.

  “Hey!” She blinds me with the flashlight.

  I throw the door back and pull my body onto the floor of the tree house. “This was mine. You think I wouldn’t know how to jimmy the lock?”

  “Leave me alone.”

  I wrap my feet under me and look at the old walls as best I can in the sparse light. “I spent a lot of time out here.”

  She picks at the fuzz on a bunny slipper. “Yeah, and you locked my mom out.”

  I inhale at her harsh tone. “Yes, I did.” Though it certainly worked both ways. “That’s what big sisters do.”

  “You locked her out of everything.”

  I pick up a leaf from the floor. “Is that what she told you?”

  “She said you were the worst sister ever.”

  Blade in heart. Twisting. “Well . . . I probably wasn’t the best. Your mom and I were, um, are very different.” How do I tell a ten-year- old that her mother came out of the womb hating me? I expected my mom to bring home this rosy baby that I could love—who would love me back. Follow me and adore me. That’s what my friends’ little brothers and sisters did. But she didn’t. She just never did.

  “Riley, I know you’re scared. And I understand you’re hurting and—”

  “You don’t know squat, lady.” She sets the flashlight in her lap, and it casts warped shadows on her face.

  “Your mother didn’t leave because she doesn’t love you. I hope you know that. She left because she’s sick. She needs her medicine to do things our brains do for us naturally. And I don’t think she’s been—”

  “Spare me. I’ve heard it a hundred times.”

  I’m really stinking it up here. “She does love you, Riley. And you must miss her a bunch.”

  “Miss her?” Riley chokes on a laugh. “I don’t ever want to see my mom again.”

  Chapter Six

  Everything in me wants to go back to Chicago. I’ve slept in more intolerable, body-cramping places than I can count, but nowhere as uncomfo
rtable as the bed under my father’s roof last night. I spent most the night just staring at the ceiling, my mind wide awake with a million thoughts—especially my conversation with Riley in the tree.

  In between long stretches of tormenting thoughts were small spasms of fitful sleep. Minutes at best. And I dreamed of my mother. Even now when I close my eyes I can see her walking on a pool of water, holding out her hand.

  “Come to me,” she said. “Take my hand.”

  But I couldn’t. I stood on the pier. Alone. Unable to step out. I wanted to, but I knew I would sink as soon as my toes moved from the ground.

  I woke up with that remnant of regret. The taste of it in my mouth.

  And this morning at breakfast, my dad hit me up to stay for an additional week. But how can I? I have a lot on the line at work right now.

  “I’ll pay you,” Dad had said. “How much do you want?”

  “I’m not taking your money. That’s not the point.”

  “The school talked to Department of Human Services yesterday.

  Riley’s principal called me. You know they won’t let me keep her if I’m working and don’t have someone to take care of her.”

  “So you want me to say I’m living here?”

  “Just say you’re staying indefinitely.”

  “I’m on a plane to Taiwan Friday morning. That’s not indefinitely.”

  “You’re as selfish as your mother.”

  That did it. I walked out. I grabbed my iPod and my sunglasses and took a long run in the neighborhood, taking my frustrations out on the asphalt. When I got back, he was gone. But my bad mood was not.

  I spend the rest of the day with my laptop, reviewing video footage I’d downloaded before I left. Not film for Passport to the World, but my own stuff I’ve been collecting. Hours and hours of children in the countries I’ve been in the last year. It’s like God opened my eyes to other things that were going on around us as we made our travel show. It seems everywhere I go, I keep finding these children in unlivable circumstances—from poverty to prostitution. And yet I’m powerless to do a thing. Except pick up my camera and capture seconds of their lives. Flashing, fleeting images of life in motion.

  Initially I had no idea why I was filming these children, let alone keeping the footage. But it soon became this conviction in me. Like here were stories that had to be told. And where were their voices? Sometimes I lie awake and night and wonder if I’m their voice. And that scares me to death. Who am I?

  With instructions to get Riley at three o’clock, I leave the house and pull the Ford into the car-rider line at Ivy Elementary. And I wait for half an eternity. Whoever said patience is a virtue obviously never had to pick up a kid at school.

  I feel some relief when I see her standing in a group with other students.

  “Hey.” I move my purse out of the seat so she can sit down. “Good day?”

  She gives me the crazy-woman look again. “The best. In fact, I did so well, they want to move me up to junior high.”

  More like move you to a padded cell. “Dad showed me a few of your grades last night. I think fourth grade is a big enough challenge for you.”

  “I’m not stupid.”

  “I didn’t say you were.” I put the car in drive and slowly pull away, waving at the harried crossing guard in the orange vest. “You’re a very intelligent kid, Riley. I knew that within ten minutes of talking to you. I just get the impression you don’t try very hard.”

  “You don’t know jack.”

  “About some things, that’s very true. But I’m right about this.”

  “Just take me home.” She stares out the window as we cruise through town. “I want some cookies.”

  “We have to stop at the veterinarian’s clinic so you can work off your debt to society, not to mention Buford and Delroy.”

  “They’re clean now, aren’t they?”

  “Delroy said to tell you he got a rash from all the soap.”

  I see her mouth quirk. Just a hint of movement, but I saw it.

  “A good aunt would know I need food after school. What kind of adult are you?”

  My tongue pauses at the roof of my mouth. She’s right. Most people would know this. Why are kids so not user-friendly to me? I’m a kid-idiot.

  “Here we are.” I pull into a spot at the Ivy Lake Animal Clinic. Beside us a woman stands by her car and has a conversation with her wienie dog.

  I open my door and get out. “Let’s go, Riley.”

  “Now, Mr. Pickles,” the woman says. “You get in that car right now. We’re not staying here. You’ve had all the biscuits you’re going to get out of me. I don’t care if there’s a lovely schnauzer in there, we’re going home. In the car!”

  I rest my hand on Riley’s shoulder. “If Mr. Pickles likes this place, it can’t be too bad.”

  She jerks her shoulder, dislodging my hand.

  “Hi, I’m Maggie Montgomery,” I tell the woman at the front desk. “Dr. Blake invited my niece Riley here to do some special work for him.”

  Her face wrinkles in confusion. “Which Dr. Blake?”

  “How many are there?” I can only handle one.

  “Dr. William Blake is still here part-time. His son, Connor, is our main vet.”

  “Connor.”

  “And what is the purpose of your visit?”

  “Scoop poop,” Riley snaps. “You know, slave labor. Break some child labor laws. That sort of thing.”

  “Sandy, I’ll take care of this.”

  I do a slow turn and find Dr. Hotness standing right behind me. “Hello,” I say, trying to model polite behavior for the child.

  His eyes glitter with unspoken sarcasm as they briefly travel over my face before turning to my niece. “I’m glad you came today, Riley.”

  She shoots a few daggers in my general direction. “Like I had a choice.”

  Connor’s voice is firm, but kind. “It’s the right thing to do, and you’re also going to be helping the animals out today.”

  “By scooping—”

  “By cleaning cages and playing with some stray cats and dogs that we have here right now.”

  “Nobody wants them?” It’s the first thing of interest I’ve heard from my niece.

  Connor shakes his dark head. “We usually have a few animals here that people bring us. We try to place them in good homes. You’d be doing them a huge favor by spending a little time with them.”

  Some of the hostility melts off of Riley’s face, and I openly stare at the man. How can he be such a jerk to me and yet so kind to Riley? Like he knows just what she needs to hear.

  He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a granola bar. “Thought you might want an after-school snack.”

  With a smirk to her clueless aunt, Riley accepts the treat and follows the doctor to the office door.

  “Pick her up in an hour,” Connor says, without even bothering to turn around. “Don’t be late.”

  I grumble all the way back to my car. Mr. Pickles is still being his obstinate self as I drive away. Must be some good dog treats in there. Because I can’t imagine anyone wanting to hang out in that vet’s office.

  Fifty-five minutes later, I stand in the same parking lot. Spying the vet in the nearby horse barn, I walk that way.

  He runs his big hand down the flanks of a chestnut mare. “Joe, get Daisy here her X-rays, and let’s see if it’s colic.” Connor leans closer to the horse and speaks soft words to her as he rubs her head.

  “Dr. Blake?”

  His eyes shift to steel as he gives his assistant another order, then walks three steps toward me. “You’re on time.”

  I frown. “You don’t even know me. Isn’t it kind of weird to make assumptions about my punctuality?”

  “I know you, Maggie Montgomery.”

  “We went to school together, but much like you, I’m a very different person these days.”

  Connor’s open stare has goose bumps dancing on my skin.

  I readjust my purse strap
. “Is Riley around?”

  “No.”

  “What? Did she run off?” My heart stutters in my chest. “I knew this would happen. I don’t suppose you microchipped her before she got away, did you?”

  His face is a neutral mask. “She’s in the clinic helping Sandy with a new kitten we’re bottle-feeding.”

  “Oh.” I pick a piece of lint off my shirt. Then another. “Can we just forget that microchip comment?”

  “You have no idea what to do with Riley, do you?”

  I take a deep breath and inhale the scent of warm hay and animals. “It’s complicated.”

  He cocks his head. “Does it have to be?”

  “Yes.” Now butt out.

  “Riley needs stability.” His brow furrows. “She needs someone to love her.”

  “I’m her aunt, Connor. Not her guardian.”

  “You’ve had nothing to do with her.”

  I take a step back. “What is this? You have no idea what goes on with me and my family. So don’t stand there and give me parenting advice, Veterinarian Blake. I don’t know what I ever did so long ago to tick you off, but it’s past time you got over it.” I move closer again, sticking my finger in his chest. “I’m going to be honest with you, Connor. I was a reckless, holy terror of a kid. And I hurt a lot of people who didn’t walk and talk like me. So if you were one of them, I’m really sorry. But a person can only carry around so many pieces of guilt in one lifetime, and your name isn’t on a single one.”

  He removes my pointing finger, his thumb brushing over my hand. “Well, on behalf of anyone ever wronged by wild Maggie Montgomery, I’ll be sure and spread the blanket apology. I’m certain it will warm hearts all over town.”

  My breath rises and falls like I’ve run a marathon. We stare each other down as the seconds tick by. “Look, I just really need to get my niece.”

  He slowly nods twice. “I’d say her life depends on it.”

  Chapter Seven

  When I hear Dad leave the house the next morning, I make my way downstairs. I could seriously go for a bowl of Fruity Pebbles right now, but there’s none in the house. Even though I’ve had it under control for years, my stress eating is back with a vengeance. I’ve eaten more junk in the last few days than all last year. My pants are not happy.