The Girl Death Left Behind (11 page)

Beth took Sloane’s arm. “Would you like to talk some more about it? Maybe spend the weekend with me?”

“I’m through talking.” Sloane freed her arm and rushed over to the car. She tossed her books through the open window and jerked open the door.

Feeling helpless, Beth watched Carl drive away.

“Something has come up.”

Those were the first words out of her aunt’s mouth when Beth arrived home from school.

“Like what?”

“The realtor called to say that the renters are moving.”

“So find more renters.”

“There’s more.” Camille took a deep
breath. “The bank that holds the mortgage wrote to inform us that the house must be sold in order to settle your parents’ estate.”

Beth heaved her books onto the kitchen counter. “That’s
my
family’s house. The bank can’t just sell it without permission.”

“Yes, they can. Technically, the bank owns the house. Just remember, though, once the house is sold and the mortgage is paid, the remainder will go into your trust fund—”

“I don’t care! It’s my house. You can’t let them sell it, Aunt Camille.”

Camille tried to put her arm around Beth, but Beth stepped away. “Beth, I can’t stop it. Jack’s talked to the bank and to your parents’ attorney. It’s the only way. Our hands are tied. I’m sorry, honey.”

“It isn’t
fair.
”

“None of it’s been fair, Beth. I wish I could change things, but I can’t.”

In her mind’s eye, Beth envisioned the house she’d grown up in. The halls where Allison had drawn on the walls with crayons when she’d been five. The stained carpet on the stairs where Doug had spilled grape juice. She saw the house as it had once
been—her room, her parents’ room, the family room, the huge credenza along the wall that had been one of her mother’s antique finds. Some bank was taking even more of her past away. “I know it’s not your fault, Aunt Camille. I know you tried.”

Camille’s face was full of sympathy. “Try not to dwell on it, Beth. It’s only a house. We’ve got the important things out of it already.”

Beth felt numb, as if all the blood had been drained out of her. It was happening to her again—impersonal, faceless, unfeeling, uncaring forces she could not see, could not fight were manipulating her life once more. And, just as always, there was absolutely
nothing
she could do about it. She left the kitchen without another word.

19
 

J
ared took Beth to a movie at the mall on Friday night, and when it was over, they hooked up with Sloane and Carl at the food court.

The minute Beth sat down, Sloane leaned over and said, “You still broken up about your parents’ house being sold? I told Carl how hard it hit you.”

Carl uttered a swear word to reinforce Sloane’s statement.

Beth toyed with the straw in her soda and said, “I know I should be handling it better. I’m being such a baby about it. But I can’t
stop thinking about the house. I want to see it so bad.”

“Wouldn’t your aunt take you to see it if you asked her?” Jared asked.

“She hasn’t got the time now. And it’ll probably be sold by summer when she does. No.… I’ll never see my home again.”

“You really want to see it again? Is it that important to you?” Carl’s voice, deep and deliberate, sliced through the noise from the surrounding tables.

Beth said, “More than anything.”

“Then let’s go.” He sounded matter-of-fact.

“Now? Right now? Are you kidding?”

“Why not?” He put his arm around Sloane. “Me and Sloane will take you. If we leave tonight, we can be in Chattanooga by tomorrow morning.”

“Sure,” Sloane said, looking eager. “We could drive all night. It’ll be fun. An adventure.”

Beth’s heart began to thud as the magnitude of Carl’s offer sank in. “You really mean it?”

“Can you spot me some dough for gas?”

“Sure.” She sat up straighter, every nerve in her body tingling.

“What about your aunt and uncle?” Jared asked. “Won’t they notice if you don’t come home?”

“They’re away until Sunday. They’ve gone to some weekend marriage seminar. They’re staying at a hotel downtown, and left Terri and me on our good behavior.”

“Won’t Terri call and tell them if you take off?”

Sloane gave a disgusted snort. “I won’t be around to shut her up, you know.”

Beth felt let down. Could Terri be trusted to keep her mouth shut through the weekend? “I don’t know. Let’s go ask her.”

They stood. Jared took her hand. “Are you sure about this, Beth?”

Carl’s offer had carried her from the pit of despair to the height of hope in a matter of moments. Taking off was bold, even scary, but the more she thought about it, the more it made sense. It wasn’t as if she were running away, she told herself. She was simply going home—to the place where she belonged. “Yes,” she told Jared. “I’m positive.”

Jared walked with her out to Carl’s car. “I’d go with you if I could.” He closed the car door once she was inside. “Remember who your friends are. I’ll be here when you come back, all right?”

He assumed she would be returning. For a brief moment she felt torn. Jared was special. She cared about him, and he’d shown her that he cared for her. But she was so mixed up inside right then, she couldn’t think straight. Her present was all around her and she saw that it was good, but her past was calling to her. “I’ll be in touch,” she told him, keeping it vague because she didn’t know what was going to happen to her. She simply didn’t know.

“Are you crazy? You can’t just run off!” Terri flailed her arms and followed Beth around her room while she packed things in a duffel bag.

“And why can’t I?” Beth turned to face her cousin. “You’ve never wanted me here anyway. What do you care if I leave?”

“That’s not fair. I’ve tried to be nice to you.”

Beth snorted. “When? Last Christmas,
when you told me this was
your
house and Aunt Camille was
your
mother and I’d better not forget it?”

Terri’s face flushed. “I—I was mad. When I saw the two of you talking and crying together, I felt left out. Ever since you came here, Mom and Dad have talked about nothing but poor Beth, and how to make Beth happy, and how I needed to share my school and my friends and my life—”

“You were jealous?” Beth couldn’t believe her ears. “You want to change places with me, Terri? You want to have your parents die, and come live with me, and leave your friends and everything behind?”

Tears swam in Terri’s eyes. In a small voice she squeaked, “No.”

“I didn’t think so.” Beth returned to her packing. “Sloane and Carl are waiting. I’ve got to hurry. Would you please move out of my way?”

Terri stepped aside. “But Mom and Dad … what will I tell them?”

“Don’t tell them anything until Sunday night when they come home. Can you do that much for me?”

“They’ll kill me.”

“Probably not.”

“They’ll come and get you, you know.”

“Maybe you can talk them out of it. Especially since you don’t want me around.”

Terri started crying. “That’s not true. I want you to stay. I—I’ve gotten used to having you here. Sort of like a sister.”

Beth looked at her sobbing cousin and for a moment felt sorry for her. “I had a sister. Believe me, you’ve never treated me like one.”

“Oh, sure … like you were never rude to Allison. I heard you chew her out more than once.”

Guilt stabbed at Beth. Terri was right—she hadn’t always treated Allison well. Why, she even used to fuss at her sister for something as dumb as using her shampoo. “That’s true. I wasn’t very nice to her sometimes. But that never meant I didn’t care.”

“Well, I care about you, too,” Terri said stubbornly.

Beth zipped her bag and heaved it off the bed. “Then keep my secret for a couple of days. I lived most of my life on Signal Mountain. And I have Marcie and Teddy there too, so it’s not like I’ll be in the streets. I’ll
be fine.” She threw out the last part just to needle Terri. To let her know she thought Terri selfish and uncaring.

Beth was almost across her room and to the door when Terri blurted out, “They were getting a divorce. Mom and Dad … they were calling it quits.”

Beth stopped in her tracks and spun around. Terri had clamped her hand across her mouth, but her eyes were wide and her face looked as if it were about to crumble.

“
Your
parents?” Beth said. “
My
aunt and uncle?”

Terri nodded, tears running freely down her cheeks. “They didn’t think I knew, but I heard them talking about it—I knew, all right. Then the accident happened. And you came and they stopped talking about it. They wouldn’t have stayed together for me, but they would for you.”

Beth felt hot and cold at the same time. Had her mom and dad known about Jack and Camille? She thought back to when Jack had told her he was reexamining his priorities. And to when Camille had said to her that the time to tell someone something important was when the person was alive and
you
could
tell them. “I—I’m sure they changed their minds because they wanted to keep your family together,” Beth said, still reeling from Terri’s revelation. “Family’s important. It was the
most
important thing to my parents, I think.”

“Well, it wasn’t to mine.” Terri swiped at her damp cheeks and squared her shoulders. “I won’t call them, Beth. I won’t tell them until Sunday. Promise.”

Beth said thank you, got partway through the door, then hurried back and gave Terri a quick, fierce hug. She bolted down the stairs and out to the car, where Sloane and Carl waited. Slamming the car door, she said, “Let’s go.”

Carl pulled out of the driveway and headed for the expressway, glancing once in his rearview mirror at Beth hunched in the corner of the backseat. “You two better get some sleep,” he said. “It’s going to be a long night.”

20
 

W
ith Beth directing him, Carl drove down the quiet streets of her old neighborhood. They had stopped only to have breakfast at a Waffle House outside Atlanta. The long trip faded as she stared out the window at the neighborhood where she’d grown up, at the rows of Victorian-style houses surrounded by green, clipped lawns and tall, stately trees. At the end of a cul-de-sac, Beth said, “Here. Stop here.”

The house,
her
house, looked in need of a paint job. A shutter on one of the upstairs windows hung loose. True to her word, though, Faye Carpenter had kept up the
flowerbeds. Tulips and purple iris bloomed between neat rows of colorful pansies. Soon it would be time to plant begonias, impatiens, and geraniums, just as Beth’s mother had planted them every year.

Carl parked in the driveway, and Beth got out. Her legs were stiff from sitting, but the air felt cool and smelled clean, like freshly washed laundry. On the porch she saw the realtor’s lock box hanging on the front door handle. “It’s locked,” she said in dismay.

“I’ll get you in,” Carl said. He removed a crowbar from the trunk of his car and jimmied a window behind the front porch.

“What if someone calls the cops?” Sloane asked.

“It’s
my
house,” Beth said. “I can be here if I want.”

When the window was open, Carl asked, “You want us to go in with you?”

“No. Please … this is something I want to do by myself.”

He shrugged and sat down with Sloane on the porch steps. Beth squeezed through the window. She shivered; the house was cold. No heat had come through the furnace vents in weeks. And, of course, it was empty. All
the furniture she’d grown up with was still in storage, and the renters had taken theirs with them.

Beth walked toward the kitchen, her shoes making a hollow sound on the floor. The kitchen smelled musty; the walls looked grungy. She returned to the foyer, to the stairs, and climbed them. Ghosts trailed after her … ghosts and memories. She saw marks on the wall behind the bathroom door where her father had measured her, Allison, and Doug as they’d grown. She heard her mother say, “They make special charts for the backs of doors, Paul. Can’t we buy one and save the walls?”

And she heard her father reply, “It’s a tradition, Carol. Everyone makes marks on their walls for this sort of thing. You don’t want the kids to grow up without traditions, do you?”