by Lily White
“Still a tease,” he laughed, stepping my direction. I had to crane my neck up to look at him when he caged me against the wall with his forearms.
I shrugged, made sure to meet his eyes in such a way that held him entranced.
“How long has it been?”
The corner of his lip curled. It deepened the scruff on his cheeks, hiding dimples I knew were there.
“Twenty-two years. You?”
“Same,” I answered, hating how the truth of the confession hurt.
His head lowered, our noses almost touching. “Too long.”
I challenged him. “Do something about it.”
His mouth curled even more, a full, lurid grin that promised relief, that promised pain and everything in between. Noah leaned down to brush his lips against mine, a teasing taste, a barely there kiss, a temptation I wanted to hate.
“Sorry, Ens, but that’s not happening.”
His words were a slap to the face when they shouldn’t have been. “Why not?”
Exhaling long and deep, he shook his head, eyes searching my face.
“Because it’s too easy. But that’s been your problem for as long as I’ve known you, hasn’t it?”
He chucked my chin with a finger.
“You’ve always been too damn easy.”
Thanks for the knife to the stomach, asshole.
Anger rolled through me, that nastiness slithering through my veins with teeth snapping and memories sliding out that I fought tooth and nail to contain.
Glaring up at him, I shrugged like his comment had been no big deal.
“It was worth a shot.”
He tugged me from the wall by my shirt and spun me around. “Let’s get some food.”
When I’d told him I was hungry, a vending machine selection wasn’t exactly what I’d had in mind for the first food on my stomach in twenty-four hours.
Noah took his time feeding dollars into the slot, pressing a few buttons, letting the bag of chips fall before repeating the process.
When he was done, we had a gourmet meal of garbage.
Still, my stomach growled, mouth watering with the need to taste something besides the bile that had crawled up my throat from the emptiness I’d endured.
I was surprised when Noah opened the front passenger door after reaching the car.
“I’ve been upgraded.”
He laughed. “You’re going to have to prove you can behave at some point.”
After tossing the food in the center between the two front seats, he tugged at the ropes around my wrists and retied them in front of me. His hand gripped my shoulder to direct me into the seat before he slammed the door shut.
The car rocked when he climbed onto the driver’s seat, the world around us on pause.
Noah tossed a bag of chips and a cheese danish in my lap, popped the top of a soda and slipped it in the drink holder closest to me.
“Think you’ll be able to manage with your hands tied like that?”
I couldn’t look at him. I was still too angry after his comment in the bathroom, too pissed because it had hit so close to home.
“What are my other options?”
“I’ll feed you.”
“I can manage.”
That was that. We didn’t speak again the entire way to Indiana.
Night had fallen, and we were fourteen hours into a fifteen hour trip when it started to rain.
Noah was steadfast in his attention on the road, refusing to entertain my attempts at grabbing his notice. Eyes locked on the miles of cement stretching out before us like a snake baking in the sun, he’d drum his fingers over the wheel every so often, but was otherwise silent as a corpse.
I leaned my head against the rain-cooled window, tracking the drops that splashed against it only to roll away just as fast, and I thought about the dreams I’d had about my father and our road trips. It was nothing like what we were doing now, but the thought made me curious, especially now that we’d just entered Indiana.
“How does this woman know my dad?”
At first I thought Noah wouldn’t answer. He cleared his throat, his eyes flicking to me for a brief moment before moving back to the road.
“You’re a smart girl, Ens. Figure it out.”
My eyes closed, rage vibrating just beneath my skin to think my mother had been right all those years.
“How do you know about her?”
With his fingers tapping against the steering wheel, we passed a brightly lit exit sign, the silhouettes of raindrops dripping across his face as he hit the blinker to change lanes. We were pulling off the interstate before he answered.
“She wrote me in prison. Not long after the trial, she sent me a letter telling me who she was.”
“Why?”
“Because she wanted to know what happened that night. Wanted to tell me what she knew in case I really was innocent and it might help. Being out of state, she knew your dad had died, but she couldn’t easily follow everything that was going on. She learned about me when everything was over and done with.”
My heart crept into my throat, pulse pounding like a war drum until all I could feel was that hard, steady beat.
“What did she know?”
Noah clammed up, his jaw tightening and rolling beneath his skin.
“You should let her tell you that, Ens.”
That monster inside me was slithering again, its teeth snapping and body coiling, ready and willing to strike out. I took a deep breath trying to fight it back.
“Why do you think she’s still here? If she wrote you so long ago, why-“
“We stayed in touch,” he answered.
It was like my body was rattling as the ugliness inside me begged to be freed.
“Why didn’t she contact me?”
This is where he stepped carefully. I could see it the instant he shut down, knew him so damn well I could hear the gears grinding in his head. How should I answer poor little Ensley? Would the weight of this information crush her?
I was stronger than he remembered.
“She did. But the letters she sent were never answered.”
Except I never received any damn letters. I said as much, and he shook his head, jaw tightening more.
“She sent them to your attorneys. You’ll have to ask them why you never got them.”
Instantly, Mr. Cooper’s bald head came to mind. How many hours did I spend staring at the thing, mesmerized by the way light would reflect against the skin? He was just one of the two attorneys assigned to me, more as babysitters and interpreters for the trial than anything else. Every so often they’d come to me to check in and ask questions or tell me how the prosecution was going. They tried to keep in touch after everything was over, but I couldn’t stand to hear their voices or even look at them.
“I guess it doesn’t really matter, Ens. We’re going to talk to her now, and she’ll tell you everything.”
Refusing to answer him, I cast my eyes out the window to watch the dark landscape roll past. We were heading down a two lane road through some dense woods that reminded me of where we’d once lived.
Another hour passed, and Noah turned into a small town, the large wooden sign on the side of the road engraved with great big letters. Welcome to Hawthorn! Sadly, I felt anything but welcomed.
Another couple turns and we bounced over a gravel road. Not really a road as much as it was a long driveway, a two story house barely visible in the distance.
My stomach turned at the thought that my dad may have traveled this way when I was a kid. That he’d spent time at this house instead of coming to see me. I would hate this woman, which wasn’t fair because I didn’t even know her.
The car pulled to a stop in front of the house, and I took a minute to admire it.
White with a dark roof and blue shutters, it had a large, white wrap-around porch with flower boxes lining the railings, matching flower boxes set beneath each large window.
The front door was the same blue as the
shutters, two lights on either side of it reaching out with an amber glow. This wasn’t a new house, I could tell that, looking more at home in the late nineteenth century or early twentieth, but you could tell that it had been well taken care of, unlike the house where I’d grown up.
The anger I felt earlier turned to jealousy. Had my father been the one to plant those flowers? Were the porch steps as dangerous as the ones where I had lived? Had he taken the time to fix this house while allowing me to live in filth?
I didn’t want to think that way about my dad, didn’t want to tarnish his memory with the truth of why he was always away.
“I don’t think it’s a good idea I lead you in there with her hands tied together, Ens. I’m a little sick of having to keep you bound. It shouldn’t have to be this way.”
Reaching my hands toward him, I kept staring at the house, a longing inside me to have lived here, and the hope that this woman was lying.
“I’ll behave. Let’s just get this over with.”
I should have been plotting my escape, but I was too interested in this woman, too curious about what she would have to say. My wrists pulled forward as Noah tugged the rope free, my arms dropping to my sides before I lifted them to my lap to rub at the irritated skin.
“Let’s go.”
We climbed out of the car, both taking care to shut the doors quietly, although I wasn’t sure why.
Besides this house, there was nothing around for what looked like miles, and it wasn’t so late we ran the risk of waking anybody by making noise.
There was still a feeling, though. Like we were walking away from the present and into the past, like we were crossing a line into a place from which there wouldn’t be a return.
My feet tripped over themselves a few times before I found the strength to march ahead.
I climbed the stairs and shook the railing. It didn’t wobble loose like mine had.
Noah only had to knock twice before the door opened up, soft amber light and the scent of food sneaking out to greet us before my eyes lifted to a woman with all white hair and wrinkled skin.
She wore a sensible pink blouse over off white pants, her feet comfy in house slippers that didn’t match.
I wasn’t sure what I’d expected of her, but it was her age that threw me off. I realized then that it was because I’d never had the chance to watch my parents grow old and silver. They were eternally middle aged in my mind, just like my siblings would always be children.
“It’s good to see you two made it okay. I was worried, what with the unfortunate risks Noah had to take.”
She smiled kindly at Noah before turning her gaze to me, her voice steady but regretful.
“Hello, Ensley. I’m sure you have a lot of questions.”
Weakly, I nodded.
Waving a hand to invite us inside, she opened the door wider and said, “Well, I may have some answers for you. Why don’t you both come in and rest for a few minutes? Supper’s almost ready. I made a roast with some vegetables I thought you might like after such a long drive.”
Noah waited for me to walk ahead of him, and I wasn’t sure if he was being polite or if he was afraid I’d cut and run.
Stepping into the house, I stopped within a few feet of the front hallway, my eyes fixed on a distant wall where a picture of my father and I was hung, our faces beaming as we posed next to his semi. I was six in that picture. Just a tiny thing. It made me wonder how long my father had lived a double life.
The woman must have intuited my thoughts. Keeping her eyes on that photo, she lifted a hand to her chest, nervous fingers playing with the charm that dangled from her necklace.
“I haven’t properly introduced myself. My name is Sadie Pickett.”
“How long?” I asked, not really interested in her name or much else. There was only one answer that mattered to me at that moment. How long had my father been happy while I was living in Hell?
Sadie’s voice was soft when she answered, that charm on her necklace scraping against the chain like a saw sheering away a part of my life.
“That photo was taken before I met your father. You were just a little girl then. We didn’t meet until you were much older. Thirteen, I believe. He didn’t move in until a few months after you turned fourteen.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Noah
November 11, 1995
My window creaked open at eleven on the dot.
Not ten minutes before, not three minutes after.
11-0-0 beaming in big red digital letters from my alarm clock, the same time Ensley showed up every night for the past four years.
I didn’t mind that my offer for her to come over turned out this way. It had become a tradition of sorts, that clock flipping to the same time every night, the creak! of the window opening, and her body crawling through it.
She always flashed me the same grin, even after four years, like this secret was the most important thing to her.
“Set your alarm,” she whispered before turning to shut the window again.
I rolled my eyes, but walked across the room, hit the button to show her that my alarm was set for seven in the morning.
Always seven.
Not a minute before or a minute after.
7-0-0.
Ensley was always so concerned with time that I could set a watch to her.
“Aren’t the kids old enough to sleep in yet?”
She flipped me off and stuck out her tongue before falling down over my mattress to stare up at me.
“They’re eight, seven and six, Noah. I’m lucky they sleep long enough for me to get there on time.”
“Yeah, but can’t they just be quiet in the room and wait for you?”
Another roll of her eyes.
“I could try that, but if they do something stupid and wake my mom up, she’ll nail my damn window shut when she finds out I’ve been coming here every night.”
I wouldn’t risk that happening, not when Ensley needed me just as much as I needed her.
We’d grown up over the years, both of us getting taller and filling out. But while I was still somewhat scrawny in weight, she’d blossomed into a thing of beauty. Sometimes I would just stare at her when she didn’t know I was looking and wonder how I was lucky enough to live in the house next door.
I’d developed somewhat of a crush on a girl I considered my best friend. It was stupid. I knew that. But I couldn’t help it. She had a way of looking at you. Her eyes would shine with every thought, her lips pulling apart on a mischievous grin.
She was always lost in her long brown hair, but it worked on her somehow, like the energy inside her couldn’t help but come out, and it did so in a mess of wild, untamable hair.
There was something inside her that wasn’t quite domestic, something that called to me with a haunting howl, a beast baying at the full moon.
And I wasn’t the only one to notice it. While the girls at school still treated Ensley like she wasn’t worth their time, the guys had all taken notice.
Ens was in the same grade as me, both of us freshman and new to high school. I should have been a sophomore, but I was held back when I was younger. Mostly due to being homeless and moving around all the time.
Only two hours into the first day and guys were already talking, even a few seniors asking me who my friend was after seeing us together after class.
It drove me crazy, that attention. But I couldn’t exactly blame them.
She was gorgeous, not just in looks but in spirit, the type of girl who could look at you and freeze you in place. Ensley was everything those bitchy girls weren’t, which is why they treated her so badly.
But she didn’t need the best clothes, the best makeup, the best anything. She was utterly perfect just the way she was, a girl who would give everybody the finger with a sweet smile on her face.
I was overprotective of the girl who slept in my bed every night even if it was just as friends.
“So, what’s on the menu tonight, Noah? Your m
om go shopping today?”
I laughed. She was also a girl who could eat any guy under the table yet never seemed to gain an ounce. It had become my mission in life to feed her enough that she wasn’t a sack of skin hanging off a skeleton.
“How does frozen pizza sound with ice cream after?”
Dramatically licking her lips, she beamed up at me from my bed. “Sounds fucking fantastic.” She lifted her hands. “Help me up.”
I grabbed her hands and tugged her to her feet, waiting for what I knew she’d do next. Everything between us was tradition.
“Spin around, asshole.” Her laughter was infectious. “How am I supposed to ride on your back if you’re facing me?”
Her arms wrapped around my neck as soon as I turned, her legs coming up on either hip that I caught with greedy hands. I loved touching her, loved to feel her breath on the back of my neck, hear her laughter in my ear while I carried her from room to room, making my way to the kitchen.
Backing up to the counter, I released her and she sat watching me, her legs kicking, heels banging against the bottom cabinets.
“Did the kids eat today?”
It was Saturday so there was no telling if their house had enough food. Unlike my mom, Ensley’s mother would forget to buy groceries, would forget that she had four children who weren’t in school where they would at least get lunch.
Ensley snorted, her shoulders hunching forward as she wrapped long fingers over the front edge of the countertop.
“Yeah. That idiot guy mom’s been hanging around with is at the house. She’s pretending again.”
To be the perfect mom.
The perfect wife.
The ice of the frozen pizza box crunched under my fingertips, cold and wet, so different than the temperature outside. It was close to Thanksgiving, but the summer heat still hadn’t retreated. You couldn’t walk outside without wilting beneath it, the humidity sticking to your body like glue.
I turned to look at Ens and saw a smile on her face, but I knew it was a disguise. Maybe it would fool everybody who didn’t know her, but I could read her like a damn book.
“When’s the last time your dad came home?”
Her eyes flicked to a wall clock my mom kept in the kitchen. She was always reaching for time, for the hour, the exact minute.