“I’m sorry,” I say. Sorry is all I say anymore. Apologies to my wife. Apologies to my niece. By trying to do right by one, I let down the other.
She squeezes and then lets me go. Allison frowns at the picture of me and Elisabeth on my desk. Taking it in her hand, she wanders over to the long table full of pictures and returns it to its rightful spot in the middle. “May I be blunt with you?”
Blunt is better, but blunt can also be the equivalent of a baseball bat to the groin. I take a deep breath and brace myself for impact. “Yeah.”
Allison looks me over as she forms the words and sentences in her head. My wife is a million times smarter than me. I play ball. I can throw a ball. I can hit a ball. I can run fast. My wife has brain cells that do productive things—things that can change and save the world. Not a day goes by that I don’t question why she’s with me. Her family has money. She had a million guys more put together than me to choose from, but it’s my wedding ring she wears.
“When we were dating, you talked about Beth, but you never once said a word about finding her and forcing her to live with us.”
I shift as a rumble of anger goes through me, and I have to work to keep my mouth shut. One, because she’s right. Two, because I hate the use of the word force. Elisabeth may not be happy here, but this is the best place for her. It’s better than living with a heroin-addict mother who prostitutes herself for the next hit. But what really got under my skin was… “Her name’s Elisabeth.”
“The five-year-old that you took care of when you were barely past being a child yourself was Elisabeth. The close-to-adult living in my spare bedroom is Beth. That’s what she calls herself. Even she knows that what you are trying to make her into is a ghost of a person who no longer exists.”
I roll my neck. “Elisabeth is seventeen and doesn’t know who she is. I agree, she’s not six, but she’s not an adult. She’s scared and she’s confused and she’s lived in hell her entire life. I know she’s rough around the edges, but so was I when I first left my family. When you grow up like Elisabeth and I did, you don’t trust.”
Allison wipes a few strands of hair away from her face. “Scott, I don’t want to argue about Beth. I want to talk about you.”
My mind swims. “You’re the one who brought up Elisabeth.”
“I brought up that you never mentioned wanting to take on custody of your niece. Over the years, you mentioned that you’d sent money to her mother to help. You mentioned a very small possibility of wanting to see her again someday. You talked about possibly paying for her college education. But you never once talked about forcing her mother to sign custody over to you and moving her into our house. Since we met, you’ve been a planner. You have goals and you are relentless in working toward them. Beth was never part of the plan.”
“I didn’t know then how she was living.”
“You knew how she was living this past summer, but she wasn’t living with us then.”
“Her mom said she ran away, and I hired a private detective. You said then if I found her she could live with us.”
“I said it because I didn’t actually believe you would find her. I didn’t believe you honestly wanted to find her.”
My head whips up so quickly that my eyesight goes red. “You think I wanted her on her own? You think I wanted her to live in garbage? In filth?”
Allison meets my eyes, and the anger pulsating out of them strikes me in the chest. “I love you, and because of that, I’ve kept myself from saying this, but after living the past few weeks with your niece who is bound and determined to mess up our lives, I will not stay silent anymore.”
The brief pause as she sucks in a breath shakes me to the core, because I don’t know if I’m strong enough to hear what she has to say. Not sure how many more simple truths I can stomach.
“Scott…you knew how she was living.”
I open my mouth to argue and she holds up her hand. “You knew. You may not have seen it yourself or had someone in your ear telling you, but you knew. That’s why you sent the money and it’s why you turned a blind eye for years. You knew if you faced how Beth was living, you would have had to alter your life to save her, and there was a good chance that in doing so, you would have been sucked right back down into that black hole you were living in before. So please stop trying to make yourself feel better and me feel bad about bringing Beth into our lives, as if you’re the hero who just discovered how bad her life was. We both know that’s a lie.”
I glance down to see if her truth has pierced my flesh, and while there’s pain in my chest, there’s no blood dripping out of the wound. “What was I supposed to do? When I got that phone call saying she was in jail because Beth went after some asshole who hurt her mother, what did you want me to do? Continue to her ignore her?”
Allison tilts her head in the most sympathetic way, and I can’t find the nerve to look at her anymore. Her bare feet pad against the wooden floor, and when she touches my arm, I shake my head from the agony.
“No, I never expected you to ignore her, but I didn’t expect you to ignore me, either.”
“I didn’t ignore you.”
“We lost a baby.”
Her words tear through me, shattering walls I had thrown up, and my throat becomes thick. “The miscarriage doesn’t have anything to do with Beth.”
“We saw a heartbeat and we were filled with joy,” she continues as if she doesn’t see the pain on my face. “But then there wasn’t a heartbeat and that hurt us. We didn’t dodge the bullet that time. We were hit and we bled and it hurt.”
Hurt. Such a simple word, but it doesn’t explain this feeling inside me. This feeling like a million knives are slicing all at once along my skin. Doesn’t describe the strangling of my heart. Doesn’t describe the withering of my soul.
I cross my arms over my chest as if that can hold me together. “None of that has anything to do with Elisabeth.”
Allison places her hand over mine. Warmth against my cold. “You couldn’t save our baby so you decided to save the baby you took care of before. And that’s fine, Scott. I admire you for this. I respect you for this. I love you for this, but you aren’t saving her. You’re trying to change her. You’re trying to force her into our world and force her to be this memory you hold on to of that small child who loved you. You two are strangers. Accept that, and then maybe you can get past it. And maybe while you try to figure her out, maybe you can stop shutting me out. Maybe you can try to love and get to know me once again, too.”
Tears burn my eyes, and because Allison is an angel bent on saving my soul, she leans into me, fitting once again perfectly against my body. Making the cold less cold, making the pain less painful, making me better than I should ever be.
“You’re my world,” I whisper into her hair. “And I love you.”
Outside Elisabeth’s door, I take a deep breath. It’s six in the morning and Elisabeth and Allison are asleep. Last night, after I talked with Allison, I left the house, but this time I wasn’t running away from my problems. At least I hope I wasn’t. Now, I’m listening. As much as it hurts, my niece and I are strangers, and that’s not good enough.
I’m still in the same clothes as yesterday—jeans and a T-shirt. Once I returned from my trip to Beth’s old home, I slipped right into bed to hold my wife and it felt right as she cuddled in close to me, but I didn’t sleep. Instead, I watched her sleep. She’s my gift, and so is Elisabeth. I don’t know how to make us all work, but the first step is to stop running from my wife and the next is to make Elisabeth feel like we’re a family.
A family. A twist in my gut. The only family Elisabeth and I had known had included pain. We’ve got to do better. Both of us deserve better.
Another deep breath and I steady myself for battle. My niece will come out swinging, especially after the fight we had last night. I scared her. I didn’t mean to, but I did, and scaring her isn’t going to make her trust me.
I raise my fist and knock on the door. “Elis
abeth. Wake up.”
Movement from behind the door, footsteps against the carpet and the sound of the lock on the doorknob being undone. I roll my neck to ease the tension. Yeah, I guess I deserved to be locked out. A squeak as the door opens and my niece stands in front of me with bedhead and barely cracked-open eyelids.
I shove the bag of her clothing and personal items that I grabbed from her aunt’s last night into her hands. “Here. I got your stuff.”
Elisabeth wipes the sleep from her eyes. “What stuff?”
Once upon a time, I had only to narrow my eyes and tilt my head to get her to do what needed to be done. Right now, I need her to accept this bag and not make a big deal out of it. This type of trying is awkward as hell, so I drop the same look as I did when she was four and throwing a fit.
The bag becomes lighter as she takes it into her hands, and I might be hallucinating, because I think she might have smiled slightly. Well, I’ll be damned. Maybe this will work. “I went by your aunt’s and picked up your clothes. That Noah guy was there and he showed me what was yours. I’m sorry if I left anything behind. If there’s something specific missing, maybe I can swing by one day after work and get it.”
Elisabeth blinks several times, looking as if she is trying to translate my words from Chinese to English. “How’s Noah?”
Yeah. Not going there. The kid was hardcore, but I could tell he cared about my niece, and if I give in and tell her that, she might go running back. I’ve made some parts of my life a mess by running. I can’t let Elisabeth do the same thing.
“We didn’t have a heart-to-heart,” I say. “Elisabeth, this doesn’t change any of my rules. I want you to settle here in Groveton and let your old life go. Trust me on this one, okay, kid?”
She starts to nod, but then stops herself like she figured out the movement was traitorous. “I can wear my clothes?”
As much as it kills a portion of my soul because I don’t like the idea of some perverted old man looking at my niece… “Skin has to be covered and no rips in indecent places. Push me on this and I’ll burn every stitch in that bag.” I incline my head toward the kitchen. “Breakfast in thirty.”
She cradles the bag like it’s a baby, and the gesture causes an ache to flow through my muscles. “Thanks.”
The word is stiff, like she’s never formed it before on her lips, but it’s possibly the best gratitude I’ve ever received.
Beth enters the kitchen in a pair of faded blue jeans, a black T-shirt, silver hoops in her ears and a fake diamond stud in her nose. She reminds me a lot of her mother in her outfit, but her mother never had the hop to her step that Beth has now. I make a mental note to send Allison roses today. As a reminder that I love her. As a thank-you for understanding a teenage girl better than I do.
I’m standing near the stove making scrambled eggs. They used to be Beth’s favorite as a child and even though she says she hates eggs now, I have a hard time believing it. I guess this is a test. For me. For her. If she rejects the eggs, I also made enough toast, sausages and bacon to fill her up and I’ll know not to make eggs anymore. If she eats the eggs, then maybe, just maybe, it’ll mean Elisabeth is willing to start working to build a relationship with me, too.
Beth takes a seat at the kitchen island, at the place setting I made for her. Next to her plate and glass of orange juice is the stack of buttered toast and sausage patties.
“Is it turkey or tofu or whatever you try to pass off as food?”
I stymie the smile. My wife is a health nut and is hardcore about what she puts in her body. Elisabeth, on the other hand, is more human and enjoys grease—just like me. My niece picks up a piece of toast like it might eat her back. She sniffs it then quickly takes a lick, as if I’m feeding her poison. I laugh. Can’t help it. She used to pull crap like that when she was four. And like she was four, she begins to eat as she realizes she likes the taste.
The kid has always been picky as hell.
“No, it’s not turkey. It’s real. I’m tired of watching you not eat.” I place a plate of bacon and eggs between us and I sit beside her. “If you’d try Allison’s cooking, you’d see it’s not half bad.”
She bites into the toast. “That’s the point. Food shouldn’t be half bad. It should be all good.”
Point awarded to Elisabeth. I spoon some scrambled eggs onto my plate. “I like the stud. When did you pierce your nose?”
“When I turned fourteen.” She helps herself to the bacon and sausage, but I’m certain it’s the eggs she’s secretly lusting after. I internally will her to take the eggs, but I try not to seem concerned over it. Come on, kid. Give me something.
“Your mom wanted one,” I say to keep myself from discussing eggs. “She talked about driving into Louisville to get one several times.”
She deflates and her reaction gives me pause. Note to self—anything involving her mom gives her pain. Elisabeth draws in her bottom lip as she continues to stare at the eggs. You know you want the eggs. You know the eggs are good. They’re fluffy. I made them just for you.
A look of determination crosses her face, and she taps her fork against the counter. In less than a heartbeat, she scrapes the remaining eggs onto her plate. I smile, and I shove a piece of bacon in my mouth to hide it. From the evil glare being thrown in my direction, I know she caught it.
“Is that a baseball thing?” she asks.
“What?”
“Ryan has that same I-know-everything smirk when he thinks he’s one-upped me.”
I sip my orange juice to buy myself time. Ryan Stone is a kid Elisabeth goes to school with. He’s a baseball player, but he’s better than me. Even before Elisabeth came back into my life, I had heard how talented Ryan was at baseball. He’s also smart, has a good head on his shoulders and hangs out with the right people. The type of right people Elisabeth needs to start making friends with. Since he and Elisabeth know each other from school, I’ve made it my job to know everything about him.
Plus, I’m curious. “Have you and Ryan been hanging out at school?”
She shrugs. “Kind of.”
“He’s a good kid, Elisabeth. It would do you good to make more friends like him.”
Elisabeth has this expression that warns me she’d like to stab me with her fork, but it passes quickly and I take that as a win. “I go by Beth.”
I got Elisabeth her clothes. How about she lets me heal from one battle before beginning another? “How’s school?”
“I’m gonna fail.”
I stop eating as the frank statement catches me off guard. I was expecting a nonanswer and the truth was appreciated but unsettling. Elisabeth stares at her plate as she shoves more food into her mouth. I weigh my words. Each one tips the scale one way or another. This is the first time both of us are trying, and I don’t want to set her off. This conversation is like playing with live explosives.
“Are you trying?” I ask.
Elisabeth nibbles on a piece of bacon, and I give her the time to weigh her words as well. Finally, she says, “Yes. But I don’t expect you to believe me.”
What she doesn’t know is that I do believe her, and I understand that ache of not feeling good enough—especially in academics. But Elisabeth is not me—she’s better than me, and I have the resources to help. I toss my napkin onto my empty plate. “I’m not smart. I can throw a ball, catch a ball and hit a ball. It made me a rich man, but it’s better to be smart.”
“Too bad for me. I can’t do any of that. Smart included.”
“Allison’s smart,” I say, and I hold up my hand when she rolls her eyes. “She’s real smart. Has a masters in English. Let her help you.”
“She hates me.”
She doesn’t. Allison’s upset with me, and I’m going to make that better, too. But my problems with Allison, our pain at losing our child, aren’t Beth’s issue—they’re mine. She has enough burdens and doesn’t need my baggage crashing down on her. “Let me handle that. You focus on school.”
“Whatev
er.” She glances at the clock. “Shouldn’t you be heading to work?”
“I’m working from home today. We’re going to do this every morning. I want you up at six and out here for breakfast by six-thirty.”
“Okay.”
I gather the dishes and go to the sink. “About last night….”
“Let’s not discuss last night.”
“You were shaking.” I was mad at her for upsetting Allison, and I lost my temper, but my words, my actions—they weren’t bad enough to provoke the reaction Elisabeth gave me. She has her own demons, and I want to know their names, addresses and phone numbers.
She stands, fidgeting from head to toe. “I should get my backpack together.”
“Has someone hurt you?” I push. “Physically?” Because the emotional part is obvious.
She picks up her dishes and brings them to me. Her words pour out as if she’s in freefall. “I really need help with calculus. I want to drop it.”
I take the dishes from her, place them on the counter and cross my arms over my chest. I’m not letting this go. “What happened after I left town? My dad was dead and buried. Did my brother take his place as residing bastard?”
Elisabeth begins to shake, and her fear causes a wave of protectiveness to course through my veins. But her fear quickly turns into red-faced anger. “Fuck you.”
Fuck you. Elisabeth is a smart girl with a smart tongue. If that’s the best she’s got, it means that I just punched through a few layers of those walls she’s been fortifying for years. Fuck you. What a great comeback. I chuckle. “You’re still as stubborn as you were at four. Go get your stuff ready for school. I’ll drive you in today.”
“I’ll take the bus.”
I turn my back to her and load the dishwasher. “I’m making pancakes tomorrow.”
“I won’t eat.”
I laugh again. “Yes, you will. Allison’s making goat-cheese-and-tofu casserole tonight.”
And They All Lived Happily Ever After:
The Novella Collection: A series of short stories for the Pushing the Limits series, Thunder Road series, and Only a Breath Apart Page 6