“But they’re not just images. They’re people. They’re children.”
“What I want to talk about is next week’s show. I’m flying from Taiwan to Montreal Friday. I’ll need you to be ready to go as soon as my plane lands at two. What time are you arriving?”
“I’m not.” The words slip from my tongue like they belong to someone else.
“What do you mean, you’re not?”
I rub a knot at the base of my neck and accept my new reality. This is what you want me to do, isn’t it, God?
“Don’t do this to me again,” Carley says. “Of course you’re going to be there.”
God, give me the words. Help me. I feel like I’m jumping into water again. “I’m . . . staying here.”
“That’s impossible. Do you mean you’re quitting? After all we’ve—”
“No!” At least not until after my National Geographic interview. “No, of course not. I, um, just have a lot going on here. My sister’s in pretty bad shape and is going to be out of commission for a while. My dad can’t take care of my niece by himself.”
“Get a sitter. It’s not hard.”
No, sticking around and taking care of people is hard. “I can’t. Carley, I need a leave of absence. There are two weeks left in the season before our break. I’ll come back when we return in June.”
I can hear her pen tapping on something in the background. “You have no idea what you’re asking. We’re down to the wire here. We’re in Montreal for three days, then leave to film in Cairo. It’s our—”
“Biggest show ever. Yes, I know.” I can feel the chill of the water lapping over my head, surrounding my body. Taking me down into darkness. “I’ll call corporate tomorrow, but I wanted to tell you first. I have to take care of my family. My niece needs me.”
“You know your job is on the line here. This couldn’t come at a worse time. And not only is it the season finale, but everyone’s contracts are up for renewal. This will not look good.”
“It’s a chance I’m going to have to take.”
“And besides, I need you to help me with my wedding dress. I can’t find one anywhere. Not that I’ve had time to look.”
This sounds more like Carley, my friend. “Maybe we can spend a weekend in New York when you get back from Egypt,” I say.
She sighs. “I have to go. We’re already behind schedule, and we have work to do before it rains. Take care of yourself, okay?”
“I’m sorry.”
“Maggie, think long and hard about this. You decide if it’s worth risking your career.” She ends the call, and I let the phone slip from my hands.
God, is this the right thing? Why do I feel so out of place here at home, then? I have no idea what I’m doing with Riley. She needs stability, but my staying a few weeks isn’t really going to provide that. And I can’t afford to lose my job. I kind of need to eat. And pay for my apartment. And my candy habit.
My eyelids grow heavy, and I surrender to exhaustion. So tired. Just going to close my eyes for a minute. Or two.
An hour later, I bolt awake to the sound of screaming.
Then realize it’s me.
Dreaming. Again.
Wide-eyed, I peer around the room, just to make sure of where I am, that I’m safe at home. On dry ground.
In the bathroom, I splash cold water on my face and twist my hair into a messy knot. Then I grab my car keys and drive to St. Raphael’s to see my sister, the windows down the entire ride. Letting the wind carry away the dregs of the nightmare that was my day. And my evening.
A nurse in Tweety Bird scrubs points me to the right room on the second floor. I never was good at science, but what I wouldn’t give to have elastic waistband pants as my work uniform. Scrubs must be the best.
I gingerly knock on the door and push on through. My dad and Riley are nowhere inside. Just my sister, who lies propped up with two pillows beneath her head, an IV in her arm, and skin pale as funeral parlor powder.
“You just going to stand there?” she asks, her eyes still closed.
I step into the room, walk past a flat-screen TV on the wall, and stop at the foot of Allison’s bed. “Hey there.”
She opens one bleary eye. “I knew you’d be by.”
“Did you see Dad and Riley?”
“Yeah. They went for some snacks. Riley’s pretty impressed with the cafeteria here for some reason.”
I laugh. Sounds like her aunt. I’ve eaten food from all over the world, in some of the best five-star restaurants. But I have a deep, twisted love for cafeteria food.
“How are you feeling?” I move to sit in a faded blue chair beside her.
“Great. I was about to go run a 10k until you got here.”
I offer her a wobbly smile. We’re sisters . . . and yet I don’t really know her. Don’t know what to say.
“How are you really feeling?”
She rubs her eyes. “Old. Tired. Basically like death. But they’ve got me on some stuff to make detox less painful.”
“Where’ve you been, Allison?”
She slowly raises her eyes. “I wouldn’t just leave Riley, okay? I knew she was in good hands.”
“With Dad?” I laugh and shake my head.
“He’s pretty good with her.”
I bite my tongue on the million and one things fighting to get out of my mouth. “I’m pretty sure when the state department steps in, things aren’t going well. Riley needs her mother.”
Her hair falls in straggly strands across her shoulders. The hospital gown hangs loose on her bony shoulders, and I can hardly call up the image of the girl she used to be.
“I just needed to get some stuff straightened out. Riley’s fine. She’s a tough kid. I knew she would be better off with Dad for a while.”
“And now?”
“What about it?”
“Did you get everything worked out you needed to?”
“I’ll get my kid when I’m good and ready.” Allison turns her head toward the window and looks out at a darkened sky. “Like you care.”
“You know I do.” In that I’m-a-sister-to-a-maniac sort of way. “And I care about Riley.”
“You don’t give a crap about either one of us. It’s all about you, you, you.”
I try to keep my voice calm. “I’m still here, aren’t I?”
“Let’s just say I don’t feel too guilty about you taking care of my kid for a few days. Family takes care of each other, don’t they, Maggie?”
My sister pins me with such an open look of contempt, I have to avert my eyes.
Allison’s fingers pick at the cotton blanket pulled over her legs. “You have no idea what my life is like, so don’t sit there and judge me, big sister.”
“Allison, I’m not—”
Tears spill down her cheeks, and she dashes them away with angry hands. “Everything’s always come so easy to you. School, friends, work. Well, I’m not you. The only thing I’ve had going for me was Dad in my corner.” Her lips curls. “And that drives you nuts, doesn’t it?”
“No. I’m not jealous of your relationship with Dad.”
“Isn’t it funny? Look at all you accomplished, and you’ve still never measured up in his eyes.”
My sister is crazy. Just flat-out crazy. But the barb still sticks. “Maybe I should go.” I rise to my feet. “Dad said you were being transferred tomorrow to a facility in Dallas. I’ll pray it—”
“Yeah, you pray for me, Maggie.” Allison fluffs the pillow behind her head and lays back again. “You do that.”
Despite everything telling me not to, I step closer to the bed and rest my hand on the rail. “I do want you to get better. Riley needs you. You have a beautiful daughter who wants you to get well. She’s . . . she’s got a lot going on, and—”
“Oh yeah.” Allison chuckles to herself. “Riley told me about her field trip today. Nice of you to chaperone. I sure couldn’t. I had to sign over guardianship, and Dad won’t let me around her right now. Do you know how that mak
es me feel? You two can’t keep her from me forever.”
The walls in the room seem to shift closer, and I pull on the tight neck of my T-shirt. “I should go. I’m sure you’re tired and—”
“All this time and you’ve never gotten over your little water phobia.” She clucks her tongue. “Why is that?”
“I’ll see you tomorrow before you check out.”
“You were taught to swim, just like I was.”
“Good-bye, Allison.” I back up, unable to turn from my sister, transfixed by her words, her scornful face.
“Has coming back to Ivy made you remember anything? It’s terrible how you conveniently passed out the night Mama died. Selective amnesia, the doctor said. Is that how it was, Maggie? Do you remember now?”
I hold my bag to my chest. “No.”
“Do you remember what happened the night I lost my mother?”
Tears cloud my vision. My pulse pounds in my ears. “I have to go.”
“I think you do, sister,” Allison yells. “You watched her drown and did nothing. You took away my mother, then left me alone!”
I have to get out of here. Now.
I spin on my heel, desperate to flee.
And find Connor Blake standing in the doorway.
Chapter Sixteen
There’s something about a man standing in my way that makes me turn into a Roller Derby queen; I use my elbows.
“Excuse me.” I shove past Connor, only to be hauled right back to his chest.
“What’s going on?” He looks down at me, and I drop my gaze. My teary, puffy-eyed gaze.
“Nothing.” I sniff. “I have to go.”
He loosens the grip on my shoulders, but holds me in place just the same. “Hang on.” Connor holds out a finger to my sister. “I’ll be right back, Allison.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” I hear her say as Connor pulls me out into the fluorescent-lit hall and into a small waiting area.
“What are you doing?” I wrench my arm away.
“Just give me fifteen minutes to check in on your sister, okay? Then I’ll take you home.”
I swipe my hand across my dripping nose. “I have a car. I’m not riding with you.”
“Maggie, you’re dead on your feet.” Connor plants a hand on the wall beside my head, his blue eyes roaming over my face. “Are you even sleeping?”
“Yes,” I snap.
He lifts a dark brow.
“Maybe . . . well, sorta.” I push on his shoulder. “It doesn’t matter. I don’t need to be chauffeured home like some helpless female.”
“I’ll have someone pick up your car tomorrow.”
“No.” The elevator slides open, and I dart inside, punching the close button. “Good-bye, Connor. Go back to Allison.”
“We’re not through talking about this.” The doors draw together, shutting out Connor, who stands tensed like a lion ready to pounce. To protect my sister? Me?
I head straight for bed when I get home, even though it’s eight-thirty. And I didn’t floss.
God, everything is such a mess. My job, my sister . . . my past. And I’m losing my grip on all of it.
My eyes flutter closed, and sleep finally finds me.
I wake up early the next morning, do my quiet time, then go for a run in the neighborhood. I return just as Dad is putting on his cap and grabbing his keys.
“Saw you coming down the road,” he says as I walk into the kitchen. “Allison’s getting discharged early. Gonna go pick her up, then take her to the rehab facility in Dallas. Can you get Riley to school?”
I pull out my headphones and wipe some sweat from my forehead. “Sure.”
Dad walks to the dining room, then pauses. “Heard about the field trip yesterday.”
I hold a glass under the faucet. “Yeah, I was a big hit. I got a standing ovation.”
His hard eyes hold mine before breaking contact. The man never can look me in the eye. “A woman your age should know how to swim. None of those lessons took?”
You mean the ones where you took me to the creek and all I learned was how to be bitter? Craziest thing, but no. “Next time I go to the science center, I’ll bring floaties.”
Dad walks out of the room, his work boots falling heavy on the floor until the moment I hear the click of the front door.
“How ya doing?” I ask Riley, as she buckles up beside me in the car.
“Fine.”
A girl who was doing fine would not still be sleeping on the floor. With a ratty teddy bear and her shoes within arm’s reach, like she’d be all prepared in case she needed to leave in a hurry in the middle of the night and just have time to grab the important things.
“You look cute today.” I shoot her a reassuring smile and watch as she tries to shrug off the compliment. But the pink tinge on her cheeks gives her away. I don’t think my niece has heard many compliments in her short ten years. A girl can’t get too many of those.
“Are you okay with your mom being gone a few months?”
She shrugs the shoulder beneath her new Old Navy T-shirt.
“She’s gonna get better, Riley. They’re going to help her, and when she comes back home to you she—”
“She’s not going to get better!” Riley slaps her hand against the armrest. “Do you know how many times she’s done rehab? Guess how many times it stuck?” My niece forms a zero with her fingers.
I turn onto Main Street and join in the equivalent of rush-hour traffic for Ivy. “She’s been before?”
“Tons of times.”
“Did Grandpa know?”
“Of course. He’d either come stay with me, or if it was in the summer, I’d stay with him.”
It’s like my family has lived on this separate planet from me. A place I was not even slightly a part of. And now, that explains Dad’s going back to work. Rehab isn’t cheap. Especially when you’re paying for a return customer.
We pull into the drop-off line, and I put the car in park. “Riley, I—”
She swings open the door. “I know. She’s gonna get better. She’ll come back and be supermom. I’ve heard it before.” Riley picks up her backpack and slings it over her shoulder. “Bye.”
She slams the door, and I watch her walk up the sidewalk. One child in a sea of many. Yet so alone. And way too young to be all out of hope.
I wheel out of the parking lot and see a familiar minivan and wave.
Beth rolls down her window, and I check behind me to make sure no one is coming as I stop.
“Hey, girl,” she says, pulling her hair into a ponytail.
A Peppy’s Pizza sign sits atop her van. “Um . . . Beth? What is that?”
My friend rolls her eyes. “My new part-time job. The convenience store didn’t work out. That night manager is a real hag. My kids came by one night and rearranged the peanut-butter cracker section, and Mr. Denton went ballistic. Plus, guys kept asking me to air up their tires.”
“Mark okay with you doing pizza delivery?”
She twists in her seat. “Dalton, if you don’t give your sister back that toy, I’m gonna give you the biggest time-out when we get home.” The mom face drops and the friend smile returns. “For now, Mark has no choice, but he doesn’t like it. He’s working part time at his uncle’s seed mill. But my job’s got bennies. Free pizza from the no-pays, you know? Been eating like a queen.” She laughs, and I find myself smiling right back at her. Oh, how different we are from the high-school days of cutting class and kissing boys in the back row of the movie theater.
“So you’re still here, huh?”
“Yeah, gonna stay a bit longer.” I give her the update on Allison.
“The reunion committee is meeting at the Ivy League Diner. Go with us.”
An image of Connor trips through my mind. “Um . . . I better not. I have to do some film editing today.”
A car behind Beth toots its horn. “You can buy me lunch. I’m too poor to pay for the lemon in my water.”
“Are you using guilt to ge
t me there?”
“Yes.” She hoots with laughter. “See you at noon.” And with a casual wave to the vehicle behind her, Beth drives away.
When I return home, the house is still, save for the call of the birds outside and the hum of the ceiling fan in my room. Putting it off as long as I possibly can, I walk upstairs and call Erin Valentine, executive producer of Passport to the World. I have the same conversation with my boss as I had with Carley. Yes, I know contracts are up. Yes, I understand this is crunch time for the season ending. When I remind Mrs. Valentine of my enormous reserve of sick days, she acquiesces.
Feeling my load lightened, I open my laptop and fire it up, my fingers itching to piece together more footage. There were those two sisters in Cambodia whose faces I’ll never forget, who, like Riley, were ten going on forty. And the boy in Angola who lost his leg in a landmine while collecting firewood for his family. Or the teen girl from Darfur, who, according to our guide, faced terror after terror on the necessary trips to get water. Where are their voices? Chills race up and down my skin each and every time I look at their faces, their stories, stored on my hard drive. Trapped in my computer until someone frees them.
And I think sometimes that person should be me. I mean, I do feel this pressing urge to push this project. But I like my job. I do. I don’t love it right now, but I like having a paycheck. And traveling. And knowing that I got out of Ivy.
But these faces haunt me. Their lives float to the surface of my mind throughout the day. I’ll be doing dishes or boarding a plane and see one of these forgotten children.
God, what do you want from me? What am I supposed to do? Even Carley thinks it’s a ridiculous idea. Maybe I should just pass this off to someone who knows what she’s doing. Because it’s sure not me.
Two hours later, the front door opens and shuts with a force to shake the walls.
“Dad?” I call. Pushing my MacBook off my legs, I slip off the bed and scurry down the stairs. “Dad?”
I find him in the kitchen, pouring a glass of tea the color of rusted nails. Strong, easy on the ice. Just like my mom would fix.
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