The Girl Death Left Behind Page 8

  “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

  Jared 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 Mountai
n. 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

  With 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?”

  Beth stepped into her bedroom. The tenants had put up wallpaper for a nursery. Bright balloons and circus clowns made the room look strange. Not like Beth’s room at all. Sunlight was pouring through the window and spilling onto the carpet around her feet. Beyond lay a sea of shadows. The golden glow of her childhood was gone. She couldn’t bring it back.

  She wandered down the hall, stopped, and swung open the door to her parents’ bedroom. She half expected to see their king-sized bed, but all that remained of it was a faint outline on the wallpaper. She eased herself down to the carpet and clutched her knees against her chest.

  Gone! They were all gone. The house was a shell, left behind by life. Tears stung her eyes.

  She heard a commotion coming from downstairs and jumped to her feet. She ran down the hall, rushed down the stairs, and saw Carl blocking Teddy from coming inside. “It’s all right,” she yelled.

  “Beth? Is that you?”

  She didn’t answer. She flung herself into Teddy’s arms and burst into soul-wrenching sobs.

  “I can’t believe this. You’re here. You’re actually here!” Beth was sitting in Teddy’s kitchen, and Faye was pouring them a round of hot chocolate and talking a mile a minute. “I still think we should call your aunt’s. If even just to let your cousin know you got here safely.”

  “Don’t worry. Aunt Camille will be calling us Sunday.” Beth had explained how her impromptu trip had come about. Now that she was home, she didn’t want to think about Tampa.

  “We’ve got to split.” Carl had gulped his chocolate and was standing, impatient to leave.

  “Where will you go?” Faye asked.

  “Fort Payne’s only an hour away, and that’s where my uncle lives. I’m taking Sloane to meet him.”

  Beth walked out with Sloane and Carl. “I really appreciate your bringing me.”

  “Glad we could do it,” Carl said.

  Beth turned to Sloane. “Guess I’ll see you … whenever.”

  “Maybe not,” Sloane said. “Me and Carl may just stay in Alabama. Nothing much for me back home, you know.”

  Beth didn’t know what to say. Change was happening all around her. She was home, but everything was different. She had ties back in Tampa, but she didn’t know what to do about them. She felt suspended between two worlds, like a fly stuck to a screen, looking into one place, unable to leave the other behind. “You take care of yourself,” she told Sloane.

  “Don’t I always?” Sloane grinned.

  Beth waved goodbye.

  “We’ve missed you,” Faye said when Beth returned to the kitchen.

  “And I’ve missed everybody here.”

  “Teddy shared your e-mail with us. A good thing. It made it easier.”

  “You did a nice job on the flowerbeds. They really look pretty—just like Mom would have kept them.”

  Faye waved away Beth’s compliment. “Your mother was my best friend. I loved doing it for her. I miss her very much. I’ve missed your whole family. I miss watching you grow up, Beth. These have been the saddest months of my life.”

  Teddy hauled himself up from the table. “So why don’t I take Beth around to see everybody? That’s why she came.” Once they were outside, he added, “Thought we should blow the place. I was afraid Mom would start bawling in front of you.”

  “I’ve cried plenty, that’s for sure.”

  They walked around to the side of the house, where they’d spent so many hours playing Horse over the years. “You know Marcie’s out of town, don’t you?” he said.

  “She told me she was going to her grandmother’s in Kentucky. If I’d planned this trip, I’d have made sure I came when she was here, but it w
asn’t planned. You know I want to see her.” She pursed her lips. “You still kissing her?”

  Teddy turned a deep shade of red. “Who told you that?”

  “Who do you think? We’re friends, you know.”

  “You still kissing that guy down in Tampa? What’s his name?”

  Beth gasped. “Marcie! That little rat fink. I told her not to tell.”

  Teddy grinned. “We used to be friends and you told me everything.”

  “Not that.” Beth’s cheeks grew warm. Partly because Jared’s face and smile and the way he’d looked at her the night he’d kissed her jumped into her memory. She half expected him to materialize so that she could introduce him to Teddy. “You’d like Jared. He reminds me of you in some ways.”

  Teddy picked up the basketball. “Want to shoot a few?”

  “I’m rusty.”

  “Can’t kick my butt anymore?”

  She snatched the ball. “Let me warm up.” She dribbled and shot. And missed.

  “It’s good to have you home again, Beth. If there’s anything you want to do, tell me.”

  She said, “I want to go to the cemetery. I want to be with my family again.”

  21

  It rained. For three days a hard, drenching rain kept Beth captive at Teddy’s house. Flash flood warnings and downed trees and power lines held the city at a standstill. By the time the skies cleared and the sun shone again, Camille and Terri had arrived from Florida.

  Camille was hardly out of her car and reacquainted with Faye before she hauled Beth into the Carpenters’ spare bedroom, where Beth was staying. There she confronted Beth, demanding, “What were you thinking? How could you run off this way? Don’t you know how worried Jack and I have been?”

  Beth was prepared for her aunt’s anger. “I never meant to upset you. I just wanted to see my house before it was sold,” she explained calmly.

  “I would have brought you. All you had to do was ask.”

  “The chance to come came up real sudden, so I took it.”

  “Well, you should have used better judgment. Terri too. She should have called immediately and told us what was going on.”