Stealing Heaven (18 page)

"I didn't think you were so stupid." Her voice is very
quiet, almost a whisper. "Your whole life, Danielle, your whole life you
know what cops do. What they've done to your father, to me, to us, and yet I
see you today and ..." She shakes her head, disgust on her face.

"Mom-"

She stretches one hand out, as if she's pushing my words away, and
turns so she can't see me, looks out at the water. "I don't want to hear
it. I just want to know how long it's been going on."

"There's nothing--" I break off because she's turned back
to Look at me and is calling me a liar without ever saying a word. She's saying
it in the way her mouth turns down at the corners, in the flatness of her eyes.
"I'm not--we're not like that."

"You're not sleeping with him?" Her voice is very sharp
now.

" No! I was--"Hook down at the ground. There's no way I
can tell her all the stuff I should have before. Not now. "I was just
talking to him. He was at the yacht club thing, and when I saw him today

219

I thought I'd see what he knows about the Donaldsons, about their
security system. Just in case, you know? I was just--"

"If you say 'doing what you're supposed to,' I--" I look
up at her. She's staring at me, and her hands are clenched into shaking fists
by her sides. "Your father lied to me. He said everything would be fine,
swore it would be forever, and then he was gone. He broke my heart, did it like
it was nothing, left me alone, and..."

She shakes her head. "No one's doing that to me again, not
ever, so you look at me and you tell me the truth. First, does he know about
me?"

"Yes. But not who you are. Just--he knows I'm living here
with my mom."

"Does he know where you work?"

I look down at the ground. "Yes."

"Where we live?"

"Yes," I mumble.

"Of all the--dammit, Danielle. What were you thinking? No, you
know what? I don't even want to know. Maybe you've forgotten all those times we
had to put up with people like him hauling me around, hauling you around,
threatening us -- "

220

"I haven't, I swear," I tell her, and my voice is
cracking, my eyes burning. "I would never--"

"Never what? Screw things up for us? You look at me -- "
She squats down so we're face to face, her eyes looking directly into mine.
"You look at me and you tell me this cop doesn't know why we're here.
You--" She grabs my hands. "Tell me."

I yank my hands away. "What? You know I would never do
that."

She doesn't say anything, just keeps looking at me.

"Mom, I owe you everything. You're the only one who's ever
wanted me around, who--" I can hardly breathe. It feels like something
inside me is broken. How can she think I would betray her like that?

"Shhhh," Mom says, her expression softening, her gaze no
longer quite so angry, and sits down on the stairs next to me. "You're my
girl, baby. That's never going to change. I just--you know how much mistakes
can cost, don't you?"

I nod, wipe at my face, my still burning eyes. "I'm
sorry."

"I know." She rests her head on my shoulder. "And
it won't happen again. I know that too. I know that--" She coughs twice,
and I feel her wince.

221

"Mom?"

"Not now, Danielle."

"But you-"

"I'm fine."

"You need to go to the doctor."

"What did I just say?" Mom says sharply. "We have
other things to think about. Important things. Are you ready for them?"

"Y-Yes."

"What was that?"

"Yes. I'm ready. I swear I am."

"Good. Because I believe in--"

"I know. What you can hold in your hands, what you can
sell."

"That's right," she says, and squeezes my hand.
"But I believe in you and me too, baby. We've got it all figured out.
We're winners."

"We are," I say, but I don't feel like one.

222

23

I'm tired on my way to work in the morning and Mom is quiet,
drives with the radio off and her window rolled down, the wind whistling
through the car and making it impossible for us to talk. I know she isn't mad
with me anymore but I know Mom, and what she saw yesterday will stay with her.
She will look at me differently for a while and I will be told even less than
usual about where we're going, what we'll be doing. She won't do this to hurt
me. She'll do it because it's just how things are. How she is.

"You'll call if you need to," she says when she stops
the car.

"I will," I say, and five minutes after Stu has handed
out the day's assignments, I do. When I'm done talking to her I toss my cell in
the Dumpster. Stu has it

223

emptied every morning--he reminds us of it whenever he's talking
about planning and efficiency. He says it shows he's always on top of things.
There's a lot of things I won't miss about this job. Stu is in the number-two
spot.

On the way to our first house, Joan tells me I look tired.
Actually, what she says is, "You look like shit. Don't think I'm picking
up after your slack ass." You can guess which spot she holds in
"things I won't miss about this job." I yawn, ignoring her, and watch
Shelly rub her stomach. Maggie reads our list out loud. The Donaldson house is
last.

"I hate doing the windows there," Maggie says. "Do
you think that maybe we'll get a break and ..."

I stop listening, tell myself I'm ready for the Donaldson house.
I'll go in, do what I need to, and get out. Just like that. Just that simple.

I fell myself that, but I feel sick when we get there, on edge. It
doesn't help that when we pull in I see Allison and James out on the lawn with
their parents and a few other people. James is surrounded by most of them, and
clinging to his arm is a girl staring at him like he's everything. Allison is
off on one side smiling like she did when we were talking to the guy

224

with the polo shirt collar problem, a bored, polite smile. She
sees me and smiles, really smiles.

I duck my head and pretend I don't see her.

Inside, Joan and I have to clean the downstairs, and she tells me
I'm doing the bathroom, study, solarium, dining room, and kitchen and gets
pissed when I argue with her. I actually want the rooms--or at least the
kitchen--but I don't want Joan to know that. She tells me to quit complaining
and get to work already, and I sigh dramatically and say, "Okay, fine, I'm
going."

I look outside when I'm done vacuuming. The Donaldsons are all
still out on the lawn. Closer to the house, Shelly is leaning against the car
we came in, rubbing the small of her back with one hand. Joan and Maggie are
there too--Maggie's putting together the long brush we use to clean windows,
and Joan is standing a few feet away smoking furiously. I put on my gloves,
pull the second bag out of my cleaning duffel, and then head to the kitchen.

The silver is still in the pantry and I start putting it in the
bag, moving as quickly and quietly as I can. This is the first job I've done by
myself and what I take will decide if Mom and I get to live however and

225

wherever we want for a while, or if we'll be stopping as soon as
we can. What I take--

I hear footsteps, then voices.

"I told you I don't have time to talk about this now,"
James says. He sounds very annoyed and very close. I stare at the silver I'm
holding and then crouch down, push myself as far back into the shadows as I
can.

"Why did you do it? You knew--you knew the only reason I
hadn't told Mom and Dad I was bringing Brad to the party was because I don't
care what they think, but you go and tell him it's because I'm embarrassed? How
could you? Do I run around asking you what happened with Janet or what's going
to happen to whoever you're with today? Do I..."

Allison's voice cracks. "Do I ever say anything? All the
stuff you do, that you've done and I've never--"

"You're not thinking," James says softly. "If you
were you'd see ... look, don't--Ally, don't cry. You are who you are and you
just--you can't ignore it even if you want to."

"I'm not you. Don't you get that? I'm not like you; I don't
want to be like you."

I hear her footsteps race across the floor, then a door slam. I
hear James sigh and then, after a few

226

seconds, he walks off too. I wait a little bit and then stand up,
move out of the pantry, and look cautiously out a window. James is back on the
lawn, laughing and gesturing at everyone gathered around him, the girl from
before standing there like she's just waiting for him to see her. Allison is on
the edge of the group, trying to smile. She looks miserable. I know how she
feels. I know--my stomach knots up.

I know how she feels because I hate this.

I know how she feels because I hate this life.

The bag slides out of my hands and onto the floor. I stand there
looking at it, at what's inside it. The silver lying there isn't mine.

I don't want to do this.

I have to do this. Mom is waiting for me, counting on me. I zip
the bag up. My hands, encased in gloves, look like they could belong to someone
else. I wish they did. I know they don't.

I drop the bag by my other one, take a deep breath, and then pick
up the one with all my cleaning stuff in it. I find Shelly and tell her I'm
quitting. She shrugs, says, "Right now?" and when I say
"Yeah," and drop my bag on the floor, she gives me a "So
what?" look and then goes back to cleaning. I walk through the

227

house, picking up the other bag on the way. I don't see anyone.
I'm careful not to. I walk out the front door. The bag is heavy on my shoulder.

Outside I head down the driveway. I avoid looking at the lawn, at
anything but the road that's waiting for me.

"Hey, are you leaving?"

I stop, don't let myself close my eyes. "Hey, Allison."
I should look at her but I can't.

"You're not leaving with everyone else?"

"I quit."

"Just now?"

I nod.

"Oh. I'm sorry. You've still got your gloves on. Did you burn
your hands or something?"

"I'm fine. Just forgot to take them off."

"Oh," she says again. "Okay. I--well, the thing is
I kind of need to talk to Brad and I don't know what to say. I mean, I know
what I want to say but--well, you know how it is -- and I was thinking maybe we
could go somewhere and you can tell me if what I want to say sounds okay or if
it sounds -- "

"Stop." I shift my weight and the bag swings a little,
the silver making a soft clinking sound. "I can't,

228

okay? I wish--I wish I could. But I can't."

I walk away. I tell myself I don't feel bad for what just
happened, for what I'm doing, for what I'm carrying slung over my shoulder. I
tell myself this is how things are. How they should have been all along. How
they always will be. It's that simple and there's nothing I can do to change
it.

Even if I wish there was.

229

24

Mom is waiting for me just down the road. "Baby," she
says when she sees me, and then slides on a pair of latex gloves. She takes the
bag, puts it in the trunk. I hand her my gloves when she shuts it, watch her
peel off her own and then disappear up over the hill she's parked next to. I
can hear, faintly, the roar of the ocean.

She comes back empty-handed. I'm already in the car, and when she
gets in she leans over and kisses my cheek. "You did a good job,
baby."

I nod, look out the window. I watch everything blur as we drive,
picking up speed. "Hey, you okay?"

"I--" I'll never know what I might have said because
blue lights flash then, around and around and right behind us.

230

Cops.

Mom slows down, pulling the car over to the side of the road.
"No matter what, you keep your mouth shut. Got it?"

I nod, scared by her voice, by what's going on. This has never
happened before.

Mom turns the car off. The blue lights are still on, still
flashing. I hear the crunch of footsteps as the cop moves closer, and then it
hits me, really hits me. We've been pulled over. We have stolen silver in the
trunk. We've been
caught.

Suddenly everything seems too loud, too bright. My hands are
shaking. I try to press them against my knees and can't. They're shaking too
hard. I look at Mom. She's rolled her window down and is sitting relaxed, one
arm resting on it, fingers dangling out for the wind to catch them. She's
looking at a cop who is looking back at her. At me.

"Ma'am?" the cop says.

He starts talking and I see Mom nodding, smiling. Maybe everything
will be okay. She'll get the cop to smile, to laugh. He'll tell us to have a
nice day as he walks away. He'll do that and we'll start the car again, drive
down the road and away, away.