This Wandering Heart

by Janine Rosche

  Lips forming a tight line, her mother remained silent. Always silent.

  Like when Keira dropped the pink marker on the rug, and her father pelted the remaining Crayolas at her. Even now, twenty years later, Keira could feel the sting of each one whipping her forearms as she tried to protect herself.

  No wonder all the countertops and bookshelves were bare. Everything that could be thrown was either broken or hidden away out of her father’s reach.

  Keira’s thumb traced her mother’s wound. She sighed. There was still hope. After all her father’s attempts at control, he hadn’t completely stripped away her mother’s instinct of self-protection.

  “I’m heading to California tomorrow, Mama. Remember how we used to talk about the ocean? Or what sand would feel like between our toes? You can feel that for yourself this time. You don’t have to take my word for it.”

  Claire’s mouth pursed, forming a heart shape—her smile. A dreamy cast glazed over her eyes. “Wouldn’t that be fun?”

  “We could rent a convertible and drive down the coast with the sun tanning our face and the sea air whipping our hair into tangles.” The giggle that slipped out of Keira’s throat surprised her.

  Even more surprising? The ceiling didn’t cave at the unfamiliar sound in the Knudsen household.

  “We could get ice cream cones, Mama. Like when you were a little girl. We can even stop in Twin Falls.”

  When her mother raised her eyes, they glistened.

  “Please, Mama. Come with us.”

  “Us?”

  A light that gave the sun over San Diego a run for its money bloomed inside Keira’s belly. “You always liked Robbie Matthews. He hasn’t changed much. Maybe a touch more handsome. He’s my assistant, in a way.” Her cheeks tightened and warmed. “And his daughter is a sweetheart. Her name is Anabelle, and she’s full of joy. I . . .” Keira paused. How could she begin to describe how she felt about Anabelle?

  A large insect tapped against the back door’s glass a couple of times then flew back to the flower garden her mother meticulously maintained.

  “You know how it feels when you see a butterfly flitting around your garden as if it doesn’t have a care in the world? And the pride you feel when that butterfly suckles nectar from a flower you’ve grown? That’s how I feel about her.”

  At the moment her mother placed her hand on Keira’s cheek, Keira understood. All the heartache of sticking around this town the past five years was worth it if she could only get her mother to take a chance and leave this prison.

  A buzz reverberated through Keira’s kitchen chair. It traveled up her spine, paralyzing her lungs. The garage door.

  The little color in her mother’s face washed away, only to be absorbed by the white tiled floor. “Keira, go.” Her voice quaked. “Before he sees you.”

  Fear for her mother surpassed concern for herself. She found the elusive breath she needed to speak. “Come with me. Please. There’s more to life than fear and pain. Let me show you.”

  After sliding her hand out from under Keira’s, her mother pulled down her sleeve and rose from her chair. “You know I can’t. My place is here . . . with your father.” Her mother’s house shoes swished along the ground as she crossed the kitchen and waited by the door.

  Kat Wanderfull refused to stand and welcome her father home. She wasn’t a child. He had no control over her anymore.

  As she stared at the floor, the door opened and banged shut, followed by her father’s heavy footsteps and the sound of her mother’s commanded welcome home kiss.

  “You’re home early,” her mother said. “Keira stopped by to tell me about her recent trip to South Dakota.”

  “My last meeting got canceled. If I’d have known, I would have postponed the one before that to another day. How nice of her to stop by.” His tone chilled her. The footsteps continued. The clack followed by the bending leather. Heel-toe, heel-toe, getting closer until his polished shoes halted next to her chair. “Hello, Little Mouse.”

  Her muscles petrified. He placed his hands beneath her elbow, then lifted her out of the chair until she was standing. He pinched her chin and tilted her face up. His marble eyes stilled on hers. She shuddered, and he smiled. Not a friendly grin like Chuck Matthews’s, or a genuine joy-filled one like Robbie’s. A victorious smile.

  “Hello, Father.”

  Satisfied, he released her. “Where’s John?” After settling into his armchair, he untied each of his shoes and removed them. Her mother handed him a glass of ice water—he wouldn’t start drinking his liquor until after dinner—then she carried his shoes out of sight.

  “I’m not sure. We don’t see each other anymore.”

  He scoffed, even as his eyes darkened. “So I heard. And where’s the Matthews kid?”

  Kid? Not quite. Robbie could pummel her father to bits if he wanted to. Once, in high school, he would have if the police hadn’t shown up. “At home, I’d imagine.”

  “Since you’re standing in this house and not traipsing across the country, I trust you’ve seen the error of your ways. John and I met for lunch this week. His forgiveness knows no bounds.”

  His forgiveness?

  “I’ll give him a call and tell him you’re here.” Her father tapped on his phone screen.

  “Don’t bother. I’m leaving.”

  “Before dinner? Why, that’d be silly. I was about to turn on a movie. We’ll find one of your favorites. I’ll have John come over—”

  Keira grabbed her satchel and scurried to the front door.

  Her father beat her there. He pressed the door closed. From her earliest memories, his hand was filled with the worst kind of strength—the kind that imprisons and punishes rather than frees and lifts up.

  She needed Robbie. After all, he was the only one her father was scared of. Why hadn’t she asked him to join her for this visit? He would have, even after the awkwardness of the other day.

  With her eyes focused on the door, she caught her faint reflection in the beveled glass. She looked small compared to her father.

  Small, but not weak. Not anymore. She had been his Little Mouse long enough.

  Swallowing down the fear trying to choke her, she met her father’s icy glare. “Move. Your. Hand.” Would he grab her, shake her? Throw her against the wall? If he did, she would fight until her blood ran and her bones ached.

  But he didn’t. He dropped his hand from the door, then stepped back and offered a sick grin, even as the vein above his temple throbbed a quick beat.

  All the air in the foyer rushed out the door as she opened it. Stepping through, she took one last glance inside.

  When her mother didn’t appear, a new type of pain daggered Keira’s heart. She pulled the door closed and descended the porch steps, only to hear the latch lock her out. As in one of those dreams, Keira’s legs seemed to be stuck in quicksand. Each step was slow and heavy, but she was moving. When she reached her car, she shut herself inside and hit the lock button three times, to be safe. The sound of the ignition brought her peace.

  But the feeling was short-lived. Because as she drove away from her parents’ house for the last time, she flashed back to that day she’d dropped the marker.

  It was a few days before her seventh Christmas. She’d sat on the couch, running the soft plush of her stuffed turtle over the lash marks on her forearms and the welt she felt on her cheek.

  On the floor, her mother had kneeled, alternately spraying the carpet with stain remover and scrubbing the tiny ink spot with a rag. Above her, her father loomed, his chest still heaving from the anger possessing him. He looked at Keira, then kicked her mother in the stomach over and over. While her mother lay curled on the floor, straining for breath and moaning in pain, her father came to Keira. Bending close, he whispered, “You caused this.”

  He wrenched away the stuffed turtle—the one her coun
selor had given her on the last day before Christmas break—and held it outstretched in his hand. Tears stung the welt beneath her eye.

  “Stop crying.”

  The tears came harder.

  “I said, stop crying.”

  Maybe, she thought, if her father saw her crying, he would say he was sorry and hug her and Mama, like Emily’s daddy had when he was late to the school’s Christmas program.

  But her father was not like Emily’s daddy. He took one final look at the stuffed toy, then tossed it in the fireplace. She’d clambered after it, but he’d grabbed her around the waist.

  A grotesque rash of charcoaled brown spread over the green plush until the flames enveloped the toy. The eyes stared at her as they warped and melted. Her friend didn’t smell like logs when he burned. His pungent smell stung her nose and coated her mouth, sickening her. But if she got sick, he’d beat her or her mother more, so she swallowed back the bile rising in her throat.

  Finally, her father let her go and disappeared into his study.

  Keira sat in front of the fire until nothing remained of the turtle, and every tear she might ever cry was burned away by the heat.

  Her mother hadn’t moved. She’d merely lain on the floor, on top of the stain Keira had caused, until the sky had grown dark.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Water bottles? Check. Granola Bars? Check. Graham crackers shaped like teddy bears? Check. Tom Petty paused on the first note? Check.

  Satisfied, Keira turned off the car’s ignition. She took one last look at her road atlas, its pages spread open to show the first stop on their road trip to California. She hadn’t told Robbie yet that they weren’t heading to some random city. It would give them something to talk about on the drive. She could bundle her recent research with her highest hopes and deepest fears all in one concise, little conversation.

  With a sigh, she peeled the yellow Post-it note off the page and held it close. Sanders General Store. Intersection of Main Avenue and Shoshone Street, Twin Falls, Idaho. Her lower lip began to quiver, and she caught it between her teeth. Pressing the note to her heart, she squeezed her eyes closed, hoping God understood prayers that words couldn’t convey.

  After replacing the note on its page, she opened the car door. Despite the June date on the calendar, a chill clung to the earth as if knowing its strength would wane when the sun heaved itself above the mountaintop.

  The parking lot at River’s Edge Resort’s café was nearly empty this Tuesday morning—a bad sign for the business. Keira had parked between two lodgepole pines off to the side. Close as she was, the river had a different sound. Beneath the roar, the water danced over the rocks near the bank, forming a lullaby of sorts. The song kissed her ears. When she turned away from it, the sight of Robbie walking toward her, bag slung over his shoulder, slowed down time.

  He smiled, and Keira drew in a gulp of air so big she nearly choked on it. What they say about absence was right. Three days of not seeing him hadn’t just made her heart grow fonder. It practically made her heart turn on Michael Bublé and practice writing Mrs. Keira Matthews a hundred times in a diary.

  “Where’s your car?”

  “You’re looking at it.” She did her best Vanna White impression while displaying the new Jeep Grand Cherokee.

  “Hold the phone. Did you buy this?”

  “Nope. EndeavHerMore has an in with Jeep.”

  “They just gave this to you?” Robbie dropped his bag on the ground and yanked open the passenger door. He ran his hand over the surfaces like a jockey would over his racehorse.

  “I wish. It’s more of a short-term lease thing.”

  “You’ve got some power in that little body of yours, don’t you?”

  She shrugged. “Where’s Anabelle?”

  “Inside with my mom. She wanted my mom to braid her hair.”

  “Pity. Those curls of hers should never be tamed.”

  Robbie slipped his hand down Keira’s braid. “I think she missed you.”

  Her heart hummed. “I missed her, too. I hope you don’t mind. I reached out to DareBaby, and they sent me their best car seat for road trips.”

  “We could’ve used the one from my truck,” Robbie said.

  “True, but I wouldn’t mind having one to keep around in the future. It even has a footrest you can raise for naps. I also made her an activity box for the drive. Plus, I picked up a tablet and loaded it with Princess Patty Cake episodes.” She retrieved the tablet from the back seat, awakened it, and showed Robbie.

  “Was she the only one you thought about?”

  Luckily, he didn’t look at her. She’d never been able to control the flush in her cheeks where he was concerned.

  “I may have downloaded one or two things for you, too,” she said.

  He scrolled down the list of episodes. “You didn’t.”

  “I did. Every ridiculous Jackie Chan movie from the nineties and two thousands.”

  He laid his hand on the side of her neck, opposite the braid, and caressed her jawline with his thumb. “Girl after my own heart. Wait, do you still have a crush on Owen Wilson?”

  “Me? No crushes at all.”

  “Not even one?”

  If there were an award for closing distance between two people, he’d win. She wondered how close he might get over these next two weeks as they traveled to the California coast and back. “Maybe one. Just a little one.”

  When his eyes lit up, the rest of the world went out of focus.

  “Robbie.” A police officer stood by the Jeep’s bumper. Drew Ulrich was a longtime friend of the Matthews family. He wasn’t a stranger to these parts, but he carried an unfamiliar air with him. Perhaps it was the way his brow furrowed over his empathetic eyes.

  “Hey, Drew. You here for breakfast?” Robbie asked.

  “Uh, no. I’m here on official business.” He glanced down at the large manila envelope in his hand. “I’m sorry to do this to you, buddy. But when I saw Vivian come in to get this delivered, I thought it’d be better to come from me.” He handed it to Robbie, then shook his head. “I’ll go get Ryann.”

  After Drew headed to the restaurant, Robbie unclasped the fastener and withdrew the papers from the envelope.

  The official letterhead and paragraphs deflated Keira’s lungs. The title of the document read in big block letters: PARENTING PLAN.

  Robbie held it out to her. “A custody agreement? Can you”—he swallowed hard—“read this to me? My mind isn’t—”

  “Of course.” Keira accepted the sheet and held it between them so he could see.

  “From the law offices of Cartwright and Cartwright. Vivian Cartwright, the mother of the child, Anabelle Matthews, requests joint custody with Robbie Matthews, the father of the child. She requests sole custody Monday through Friday and every other weekend.”

  Robbie’s breath hitched. Keira placed her free hand on his shoulder blade. She continued to the next line.

  “Until the parenting plan is finalized by the district court, Anabelle Matthews must remain in the state of Montana.” Fury swirled behind Keira’s brow bone, summoning the start of a headache. Who did Vivian think she was to make such demands?

  The letter went on for two more paragraphs, providing more specific details about holidays, vacations, and transfers. Behind the cover letter, there was a copy of the Montana parenting plan form Vivian had completed.

  Robbie took the handful of papers back. His finger slid beneath the schedule, left to right. He stumbled backward. His legs hit the bench positioned to look out over the river. He collapsed onto it.

  Keira followed, sitting next to him.

  His shoulders shook, and she wrapped her arms around them.

  “She can’t do this.” His words were soft. “Keira, she can’t do this, right?”

  She rested her chin on his collarbone. “I
don’t know, Robbie. I hope not.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Inside his cabin’s kitchen, Robbie ran the end of his thumbnail down a groove in the table. “Four days a month. I’d only get her four days a month.”

  Across the room, Keira stared out the window near the fireplace. She’d been fairly quiet since they’d stepped into his cabin. Maybe she was thinking of a way out of this for Robbie. Then again, that was the job of the no-nonsense brunette who was typing on a laptop in the chair opposite him.

  “No judge in their right mind would approve this plan. Not if you’ve had sole custody of the child for four years and the mother has only recently reappeared.” Cassie Beck, the youngest lawyer at her firm, had an excellent reputation for protecting children in the field of family law. At least according to Thomas. So far, she seemed to know her stuff.

  He’d have to remember to thank Ryann. When his whole life was swirling before his eyes, she’d had the quick thinking to ask Thomas to call his sister.

  Luckily for Robbie, Cassie was willing to clear a spot in her schedule to meet with him. Even luckier, she was already on this side of town and could make the house call.

  “But what about all that money she has?”

  “All money can do is buy a good lawyer.”

  Exactly. His wallet in his back pocket didn’t feel thin but downright nonexistent. Cassie used to have a crush on Robbie, but she certainly hadn’t liked him enough to offer her services for free.

  “We have twenty-one days to file this response to petition for parenting plan. I’ll hold on to it until you get back from California. Make them sweat a little bit. Once we’ve done that, I’ll send a copy to her lawyer.” Cassie patted his hand.

  “I want this figured out. I don’t want to wait two weeks,” he said.