Mayday (18 page)

THE THOUGHTS OF C. RAINE

I know well what I am fleeing from but not what I am in search of.

Michel de Montaigne

THE REVEREND DID INDEED LOAN ME HIS CAR
on the promise that it would be returned sooner than later. Crow slumped into the passenger's side and shut the door, while I stood outside and shook Will's hand.

“I don't imagine I'll be seeing you again,” I said.

Will glanced nervously at his dad. “Don't count on it. There are still things I need to figure out.” He stepped nearer. “You'll take care of Mr. L? He's a good guy.”

“Yeah, I got it.” I turned and hugged Adele. “And what happens to you?”

She peeked at Will, and then gazed back at me. “I don't know. I'll call my mom and let her know I'm fine. Don't tell her I'm here. Let me go home on my own time. Maybe when you come back with the car, we can head back together.” Addy bent over and knocked on the car window. Crow slid lower in the seat.

Addy straightened and grabbed my forearm. “You'll take care of her? I don't know what I'd do without her.”

Honesty was all I owned, so I forced a smile and said nothing.

Soon, Crow and I sped silently south. I remembered Sadie's gag order, but here in the car I battled to contain the truth. Crow looked at peace. She was oh so close to believing, to accepting that Will might not be the monster she'd heard he was. The Crow beside me was a vast improvement over any Crow I'd been. This Crow trusted. She trusted another person . . . me. The first time around, the train struck before I ever crossed that track.

No, I wasn't here to change the future, but if I could give Crow even the slightest push, if she let Will off the hook, there wouldn't have to be a crash, there'd be no death, no red locket, no Lifeless.

“Do you think it's possible that Will might be all the way good?” I breathed deeply. “And maybe Mel is all the way bad?”

“You're talking about one of my best friends. You're saying she made up the story and spread it around just to hurt me. Why would she do that?”

We peeked at each other.

“I suppose”—my hands clutched and reclutched the wheel—“that if you both wanted the same thing.”

“Yeah.” She rubbed her hands back and forth across her black jeans.

A half hour of deep silence settled down between us. Crow fought through it.

“I don't want that thing, you know.”

I lifted my eyebrows. “That's good.” I snuck a peek at my locket, half expecting to see a bright green glow. I mean, she got it. She knew what happened. She must see through it all now.

Instead, all that remained was dull crimson, and a wave of dizziness blurred my vision.

“Crow, I don't want to take you home.”

“I don't want you to.” She straightened. “But I can't bear Basil's mom right now, and I'm sorry, I'm not ready for your place.”

“No.” I blinked hard. “I get that. But I need to show you something, and it has to be today.”

I slipped out the scrap of paper Sadie gave me and looked at the address. I took a deep breath. What a fool I'd been, so focused on past events. Stop Mayday. Stop Mayday. No longer—I just wanted to reach the address in time.

• • •

“You think I should be locked up?”

We pulled to the curb, where Crow stared at the imposing doors of Minnesota State Hospital.

I pushed my hand through my hair. “No, there's someone I need to see, and I think he may be in here.”

“You have a friend who lives here?” Crow asked.

I hope so.

I checked the address etched in granite, 576 Wabash Street, and felt nauseous. “Will you come with me?”

She didn't say a word. Crow simply pushed out into the cold, and together we climbed the steps and slipped inside.

A weighty darkness descends when you walk into a locked facility. You know the place isn't your home, but a voice deep inside says, “You're just one bad mistake from your new address, my friend.”

Buzzers and buttons and the clanking of doors ushered us farther from fresh air and life. Whoever lived in here had truly left this world, and the thought of its being my father set my heart throbbing.

We reached the reception area. The sparse group of Christmas staff huddled behind a floor-to-ceiling Plexiglas wall. They were in the midst of Christmas poker. In the distance, a frightful scream, but I don't think they heard. I knocked on the glass, and the largest man looked my way and lay down his hand. The others pushed back from the table and threw their cards into a heap.

The man, Joe by his name badge, approached and reached for the buzzer. Though bouncer huge, his voice rattled small and tinny inside my head. “May I help you?”

“Yeah, I'm looking for Cameron Raine.”

This is when I was mighty glad we were in a locked facility, or I would have lost Crow. She backpedaled to the metal door and tugged.

The guy behind the glass watched her. “Your friend okay? You know, this is a state hospital, not a drop-off site. There are admission procedures.”

“No, she's fine.”
More or less.
“Just wants to see her dad. Is Cameron Raine here?”

“Cameron? A dad? Yeah, he's here.”

Crow stopped tugging and slumped to the floor. “Dad lives here. My dad lives here?”

I shrugged and swallowed hard. I was thinking the same thing.

• • •

In one of her saner moments, Mom had told me about her wedding to Cameron Fillmore Raine.

“Marriage is a gamble, pure and simple. You think you know this man. He's been on his best behavior while you dated, and you've spent half your energy trying to figure out if it's an act or if he's for real.”

“Which one was Dad?”

Mom's face turned wistful. A rare, gentle moment.

“There's nothing false in your father. He cared so much, he wilted. I watched him stop for motorists and empty pockets for every hustler on the street. If he saw a cardboard sign, there went your allowance. ‘What if he's a vet? What if she hasn't eaten in days?' At some point, a man has to insulate himself, or the weight of the world crushes him. Your father could not do that. He let everyone in. Way in. I knew it before I took the walk—that he would be frail. But I thought a man frail from love was a better deal than a hard man unable to share his heart.

“Still, you walk down the aisle, face covered, wondering, Who will I see when he lifts the veil. Same guy?”

• • •

Joe whistled and twirled his keys as he walked down the hall. Doors, solid, save for a small window of reinforced glass, lined the left and the right. My father lived behind one of them.

Crow and I followed at a distance. “Shane, how did you know? I didn't know. And why?” she whispered.

Because any moment I could disappear from your life again. If you don't make a different choice, in a few months you'll disappear, too. We need to see him. Both of us.

“I'm not sure,” I said. “He's alone on Christmas.”

Joe stopped at a gray door on the left. “You're really family? He's never had a visitor before.”

“We didn't know where he was. How long has he been here?”

“At least eight years. He was here when I came.”

Crow stepped to the window. “He's been alone in a room for over eight years?”

“Cam gets out. He likes to walk the courtyard. He likes it quiet, to read or listen to music or think. Now, I'll be outside this here door, but I'll be watching. Just wanted you to know. One of you at a time.”

“Crow?” I asked. “I should have told you, but I wasn't sure you'd—”

“I want in.” She pressed her nose to the glass.

Joe inserted the key with a click, and the door swung open. He cleared his throat. “Cam? Look what Santa brought. A few Christmas visitors. Do you recognize this young lady? Crow. Her name's Crow. She says she's family. Do you know—” The door shut behind them, and soon Joe reappeared. I strained and listened, but could hear no sound from inside the room.

Minutes turned into an hour, and still Joe hogged the window. How I wanted to watch, but it wasn't my place.

“Well, I'll be,” he whispered. “Would you look at that? She hasn't seen her dad in eight years?” Joe asked.

“Thirteen.”

“It's a beautiful sight, but what kind of person lets her dad sit in here for thirteen years? Just sayin'.”

Me.

Finally, Crow knocked and walked out, clutching a large book. She'd been crying, but she walked up to me and kissed my cheek. I do not know what was said in that room, but I have a feeling it bordered on the holy.

“Do I get a turn?” I grabbed Joe's forearm.

He stared at my fingers and frowned. “Cam may be worn out, but I can ask.”

“Great.” I slowly released him. “That's great. My name's Shane.”

Joe stepped into the room again. “Cam? I have a Shane out here.”

“It's Christmas. Let everyone in.”

Joe popped his head out through the doorway. “I think he's getting confused. Keep it short.”

I stepped into the room with thoughts of Alcatraz floating through my head. Toilet, sink, cot. That picture quickly vanished.

Books filled the room, their stacks towering to the ceiling. Kant, Kierkegaard, Plato. My eyes burned when I saw them.

Dad.

A spacious window and plenty of sun kept alive several large potted plants. An Oriental rug covered the floor. And in a rocker sat a man, hands folded, eyes filled with tears. Though crying, he did not look weak.

“You're not who I expected.” He smiled. “Did you come with Coraline?”

“We're together.”

He straightened and pointed to the floor. I lowered myself down at my dad's feet and let him stare. It wasn't the crazed stare I feared, but a controlled stare, a settled stare, which, oddly enough, causes fear as well.

“Shane.” Dad looked off. “I need to know. Is Coraline well?”

“I think she's coming around, but life's been hard on her.”

Dad stopped rocking. “For how long?”

“Thirteen years.”

He nodded. “I sensed that. She wouldn't answer all my questions.”

My locket. I could feel its weight, its change. “Da— Mr. Raine. Do you believe in second chances?”

“In some cases. I just got one with Coraline. She promised to bring Addy.” He slapped the armrests of his rocker. “For years a man sits in a chair, or walks through a courtyard, wishing he was something different, something more, something other than an agent of pain, and then what he most fears and most desires walks in the door.”

I rose to my knees in front of him. “I'm not sure I have much time. But I need to hear this: Why did you leave Crow?”

“She wanted to ask me that. She couldn't.” He looked down. “This place robs one of all pride. I have no problem telling you.” He breathed deep. “I was a weak man, Shane. I loved Coraline and Addy and their mother so much. I didn't want any of them growing old nursing a troubled father. I know that makes no sense, and I know now that they needed me. I was selfish.” He glanced around. “But I've paid. I fear everyone has paid.”

“You didn't leave
because
of Crow?”

He shook his head. “She's the reason I stayed as long as I did.”

Oh, Dad, tell Crow. Tell her that straight.

I grabbed his arm. “Then go back. Leave this place and go back. Hug Addy and walk with Crow and talk sense when they're all turned around.”

His jaw tightened. “Who are you to say?”

I dug in my pocket and pulled out the locket. Crimson faintly flickered, and I held it up.

“Crow wants you back, very much. She's about to make some choices you can't affect from in here. I need you where she is. She needs you where she is. I don't know what to do about Jude, but I need you out of this room and into her life and—”

Black. The locket went black, and my vision blurred. I tried to stand, but my knees buckled. I fell forward into Dad's lap, and he stroked my hair.

“Addy loves you. I still love you, Dad. I'm so sorry I screamed so loudly.”

My voice changed. It became younger, higher, and through double vision I saw his strong arms wrap around my five-year-old ones. “I'll play my song better next time. Don't leave, Daddy.”

“Coraline?” He leaned forward and rocked and rocked. I felt his embrace, gentle and warm. And then I didn't. I passed through Dad, frantic and standing. “Where are you, Coraline?”

Lying on the floor, Daddy.

In the distance, the door opened. “Are you all right, Cam?”

“I want my girl back!” Dad sobbed. “She was right here. Two seconds ago, my girl was right here!”

“I'm here.” Crow ran in and threw herself into his arms. He blinked his eyes, stared around the room, and embraced her.