The Girl Death Left Behind (8 page)
S
loane’s hostile expression softened. “Listen, you did a good job of getting me off the hook in there, but I don’t want to go home with you.”
“What else are you doing for Thanksgiving?”
“I got plans,” Sloane insisted.
“Well, you’d better change them. At least temporarily. Mrs. Olsen’s watching us from the doorway. You’d better come with me to my aunt’s car.”
Sloane nodded. “Okay, so I’ll ride to the corner and get out.”
“My aunt won’t go for that.”
Sloane gave a disgusted grunt. “I won’t hang around Terri the Twit’s house all weekend.”
Beth suppressed a smile.
Twit
. Another endearing name for her cousin. “Suit yourself, but for tonight you’re stuck at our place.”
Sloane muttered a few swear words. Beth shuffled her books and picked up Sloane’s duffel bag. As they walked toward Camille’s car, Sloane asked, “You’re Terri’s cousin, aren’t you? I heard about you. And I guess we’ve got some things in common.”
“What things?”
“Like you, I’ve had some bad breaks. A crummy life. And crappy parents.” Sloane hoisted her sleeping bag. She had no books. “Can you think of something worse than crappy parents?”
Beth looked at her over her shoulder. “Yeah. Dead ones.”
As they approached the car, Terri gaped out the passenger side window. Beth pulled open the back door. “Aunt Camille, I know this is short notice, but I’ve decided to bring a friend home for the weekend.”
Terri almost choked.
Camille looked surprised, but she recovered quickly. “Well, of course. Certainly.” She eyed Sloane speculatively. “Any friend of Beth’s is welcome.”
“This is Sloane Alonso. She’s …” Beth realized she didn’t have anything else to add.
Sloane slid across the seat. “She’s glad to meet you,” she said, finishing Beth’s sentence, her demeanor changing chameleon-like from rude to sweet, almost gushing.
“And your family doesn’t mind if you spend the holiday with us?”
“They don’t mind.” Sloane gave Terri a smirk, then settled in the seat as if she owned it.
Beth refused to meet Terri’s gaze. Beth felt a bit light-headed. She’d seized control of a situation and bent it to her will. She hadn’t felt so daring since before her parents’ accident.
“Nice place.” Sloane tossed her gear on Beth’s floor and assessed the bedroom.
Beth’s glow was beginning to wear off. What was she going to do with Sloane for four whole days? They had nothing in common, and Sloane was a known troublemaker.
What if she stole something from Beth’s aunt and uncle’s house? “You—um—want anything?”
“Got anything to eat?”
“In the kitchen.”
“Could I take a shower first?”
“My bathroom’s across the hall.” Beth gestured.
“
Your
bathroom?”
“Terri has her own in her room.” Sloane made a face, and Beth realized individual bathrooms must sound pretentious to a girl who took food handouts from her classmates. “So, I’ll bring you a snack.” Beth hurried to the kitchen, where her aunt and Terri were waiting to pounce on her.
“Just what do you think you’re doing?” Terri fired at her.
Beth headed for the refrigerator. “I invited a friend home for the holidays. What’s the big deal?” She glanced at her aunt. “Both of you’ve been after me to get some friends.”
“Well, you didn’t have to pick the worst girl in the school, did you?”
“Terri, that’s enough!” Aunt Camille turned to Beth. “I don’t mind your having a
friend over, honey, but next time I’d like a little more notice.”
Beth’s smile was conciliatory. “You’re right, Aunt Camille. I should have asked, but it happened kind of suddenly. I think Sloane’s parents are out of town and Sloane was supposed to stay with another girl, but the plans got all messed up and she didn’t have anyplace to go. Instead of letting her stay alone at her house all weekend, I invited her here. I’m sorry I didn’t check it out with you first, but there was no time. They were closing up the school and so I just invited her.” Beth’s mouth went dry. She didn’t like lying, but couldn’t possibly have sorted out the truth for her aunt.
“I can’t believe this!” Terri exclaimed.
“It’s all right,” Camille insisted. “I want you to feel free to bring your friends here.” Terri dropped dramatically into a chair. Camille said, “Lighten up, Terri. Sure Sloane doesn’t look like all
your
friends, but I expect you to make her feel welcome.” She glanced at the kitchen clock. “Listen, I have to run to the store for a few last-minute things. Dinner doesn’t just crawl onto the
table unassisted, you know.” She picked up her car keys. “I’ll be back soon.”
As the door closed behind her mother, Terri shot off the chair. “I can’t believe you brought that girl to my house!”
“She’s here. Believe it.”
“What were you thinking?”
“I was thinking that she didn’t need to be spending Thanksgiving hiding out in some school bathroom. I was thinking that I would be nice to her and offer her a place to stay. Sorry if you don’t agree.”
Terri crossed her arms. “Well, don’t expect me to entertain her. Me and my friends are going to the mall first thing Friday morning. We were planning on taking you, but now you can just stay here with your new buddy.”
“No problem. I don’t like being with you and your geeky friends anyway.”
“My friends aren’t geeks! And tonight, plus every minute
she’s
here, I’m locking my bedroom door. In case she decides to murder us all in our sleep.”
“Get a grip.”
“Oh, drop dead!”
Beth counted to ten, and once she’d calmed down, she returned to her room balancing a tray heaped with crackers, peanut butter, grapes, and a bag of cookies. The bathroom door was open, and steam from Sloane’s shower blanketed the hallway. With both hands full, Beth poked the door of her bedroom open with her toe. It swung inward silently. She saw Sloane, wrapped in a towel with her back turned, sorting through Beth’s closet as if she were in a department store instead of somebody’s private room.
All Terri’s dire warnings bombarded Beth. With her heart hammering, she asked, “Need some help, Sloane?”
W
ithout a hint of embarrassment at being caught pawing through Beth’s clothes, Sloane said, “I was looking for something to wear.”
Beth set down the tray. “What’s the matter with your clothes?”
Sloane eyed the duffel bag sitting on the floor. “I didn’t have time to do the laundry before I left home. Besides, the machines in my apartment building are all busted anyway.”
With her hair slicked back and wet from the shower, her thin, jutting shoulders showing above the towel, and her face free
of makeup, she looked childlike and vulnerable. Beth could more plainly see the dark smudge of a bruise beneath her eye and the puffiness of her lip. She saw another bruise on her arm and yet another on her leg. “Why
did
you leave home?”
“Are you writing a book?”
“No. But I sort of made up a fib to my aunt, and now I’d like to know. Just for me.”
Sloane shrugged, saw the tray of food, and went for it. She spread peanut butter on several crackers and talked between bites. “My old man and me don’t get along. He thinks I’m a slut.”
“He calls you that?” The word shocked Beth.
“He calls me a lot of things. Especially when he’s boozing. Mostly I try and stay out of his way, but sometimes we get into it.”
“What about your mom?”
“She drinks right along with him. And he hits her. So sometimes I can’t stand to hear him beating on her and I get between them to try and make him stop. Which really makes him mad. So I get a few licks too.”
“You’ve had it rough.”
“Who hasn’t? It’s just luck of the draw—I got the family I got, you got the one you got. Terri gets to live like some princess. Life ain’t fair.”
Beth couldn’t imagine living the way Sloane did. She thought of her own father, quiet and gentle. He’d never so much as spanked her, Allison, or Doug. A pang of longing stabbed her. Fighting tears, she went to her closet and began shoving aside hangers. “I didn’t see your boyfriend today. Doesn’t he usually pick you up?”
“Carl’s out of town. He’s got this uncle up in Alabama who owns this garage. Anyway, his uncle is helping him trade in his cycle for a car. I’m going to miss that cycle.”
Beth pulled out some jeans and a clean T-shirt. “These should probably fit.” She was taller than Sloane and not as slim, but the jeans were a pair she’d outgrown. “You can keep them.”
“I don’t want charity. I’ll get them back to you after I wash.”
“Would you like to do some laundry now? You can use our machine.”
“I could throw in some stuff. Sure, that’ll
be fine.” Sloane tugged on the borrowed clothes, picked up her bag, and asked, “Which way?”
Once the clothes were started, they went to the kitchen, where Camille, home from the store, was busy preparing supper. “Well be eating in about an hour,” she said. “Jack’s firing up the grill right now.” She glanced at Sloane, then looked startled, and Beth realized that she was just now seeing the bruises on Sloane’s face. “What happened?”
“I fell.”
Beth cast her aunt a glance warning her not to press Sloane for details and was relieved when she didn’t.
They ate dinner outside on the patio, their chairs snug around the table, looking for all the world like a family. Except that they weren’t. The air felt soft and cool. The smell of charcoal and grilled burgers reminded Beth of the cookouts her family used to have with the Carpenters. Fourteen summers gone. Like smoke in the wind. Now she sat on a patio hundreds of miles from home, an orphan, amid relatives she didn’t want to be with and a girl stranger than anyone she’d
ever known. Life wasn’t fair. Sloane was certainly right about that much.
Beth let Sloane sleep in on Thanksgiving Day. Camille and Terri were busy in the kitchen and Terri was acting hateful, so Beth went out to the garage, where she found her uncle sorting through boxes and organizing shelves. “You off KP duty?” he asked.
“I’m just in the way in the kitchen.” Beth heaved a sigh, saw an empty spot, and sat.
“I know what you mean. Thought I’d hang around out here. And … I’ve been putting off this cleanup for ages. Now’s as good a time as any.” She watched him stack boxes. He opened one and gave a grunt. “Hey, come look at this and tell me what you see.”
Beth peered inside. “Old clothes.”
He shook out a set of army fatigues. “Not just any old clothes. This is my army gear. Your dad and I were in the same company, you know. Lived right next to each other in army housing. Your mom and Camille were pregnant at the same time.”
“Mom told me.”
Jack stroked the garments, put them aside, and pulled out a photo. “Boy, this was a long time ago.”
He handed the picture to Beth, who took it and saw the images of Jack and her father standing next to a Jeep. Both men had shaved heads and wore big smiles. They looked young, slim, fit, and happy. A lump filled her throat, and the photo wavered as tears filled her eyes.
Jack gently took the photo and cradled it in his hand. “Paul was a good man. I miss him.”
“Me too.”
Jack smoothed her hair. “He was always on my case about my being on the road so much. He’d say, ‘Get your priorities straight, Jack. You spend too much time away from your family.’ And I’d say, ‘I’ve got to feed them.’ And he’d say, ‘Yeah, but sometimes it’s better to eat light than to get too much distance between you and them.’ He once said, ‘I never heard a man on his deathbed say he’d wished he’d worked more. On his deathbed, a man always wishes he’d spent more time with his wife and kids.’ ” Jack tucked the photo into his shirt
pocket. “He turned down better-paying jobs so that he could spend more time with you all, you know.”
She hadn’t known, but she believed him. Jack’s reminiscences sounded exactly like her father. He had always put his family first. They had done things together—school events, sports, games, travel. She’d been getting bored with it, wishing they didn’t have quite so much togetherness. She’d been wanting to do more with her friends, less with her family. But it was all over now. She’d never be with her family again.
Jack looked at her. “I’ve depressed you. I’m sorry. I just got carried away. The truth is, I miss him too, Beth. Our family get-togethers every year were our chance to renew our friendship. I don’t have anyone to talk to anymore.… Paul was a good friend.”
Beth sniffed and wiped the moisture from her cheek. “It’s okay. I’m all right.”
Jack knelt and took her hands in his. “I feel honored to have known such a fine man as your father. And I’m proud to have you as my daughter. Heartsick about the circumstances
that brought you here, but proud nonetheless.”
She managed a smile. “Thanks.”
“We’ll always take care of you, Beth. And for the record, I’m trying very hard to realign my priorities. I’m backing off my travel schedule after the first of the year.” He wiped her cheek with his thumb. “Your father would have been pleased. Yes—Paul would think I’m finally getting my priorities in order.”