All the Little Lights

  We sat, and he unrolled the sack, handing me my Chili Cheese Coney. He checked his watch. "First bell rings in six minutes."

  I nodded, peeling my food out of its wrapper and taking a bite. My appetite hadn't returned, but I knew Elliott would make a big deal if I didn't eat. As soon as the savory meat, sauce, and melted cheese hit my tongue, I was glad I did. It was the best thing I'd ever tasted. Dad wasn't a fan of eating out, and after he'd died, we couldn't afford to. I would splurge on the occasional ice cream cone in the summers, mainly to get out of the house, but Sonic was too far away from the Juniper, and now I would have to figure out how to make this at home so I could experience it again.

  "Oh my God," I said, taking another large bite.

  Elliott grinned. "You've never had a chili cheese dog?"

  I swallowed. "No, but it's now my favorite food ever. Who knew a hot dog could be transformed into the equivalent of heaven inside my mouth with a scoop of chili and some melted cheese?" I took another bite, humming as I chewed.

  I took the last bite and sat back, feeling full and euphoric.

  "What is that? I've never seen that look on your face," Elliott said, looking just as happy as I felt.

  "That is grease and sodium filling my belly. And I don't have to do the dishes after."

  Elliott's smile fell away, and he leaned forward, cautious. "Why don't you let me help you on the weekends? You work so hard, Catherine. I'm not gonna judge you. No matter what it is you don't want me to see, I'm not gonna think of you any different."

  "You . . ." I paused. What I wanted to say would take us down a path I couldn't go. "You can't."

  Elliott's jaw ticked. I hadn't seen him angry since we were fifteen; in fact, he was one of the most even-tempered and patient people I had ever met, but my resistance to let him inside was wearing on him. "What were you really going to say?"

  The bell rang, and I smiled, standing up. "I'd better go. Mr. Simons will wring my neck if I'm late again."

  Elliott nodded, unhappy.

  I rushed to my locker and then down C Hall to my physiology class. The second bell rang just as I sat down, and Mr. Simons peeked up at me before returning to his planner.

  "Hey," Madison said, sliding into the desk next to me. Minka usually sat there, so I was surprised to hear a different, nicer voice coming from that direction. "I'm really sorry about today. We were just excited that you were coming to lunch, and we both got carried away."

  I arched an eyebrow. "Excited?"

  She shrugged. "You're a person, I get it. We shouldn't treat you like a novelty. But everyone is so curious about you, and you're so private, and so everyone speculates. There are some wild stories out there about you."

  "About me?"

  "Yes," she said with a giggle. "I promise we'll be cool next time. Elliott was hoping you'd ride to the game with me. His mom couldn't get off work, and his aunt and uncle can't go, so . . ."

  "Oh," I said. I hadn't realized no one would be there to watch Elliott play, and he'd be playing against his old Yukon teammates. He was going to be under a lot of pressure, and someone needed to be there. "Oh, hell," I said, touching my forehead. "This Friday is November sixteenth."

  "Yeah?" Madison said, batting her long lashes.

  I covered my eyes with my hand and groaned. "It's also Elliott's birthday. I'm awful. No wonder he was so hurt."

  "You're right! You have to go. You have to."

  I nodded.

  "You're in the wrong seat," Minka barked.

  Madison looked up, instantly annoyed. "Are you a toddler? You can't wait five seconds while I finish my conversation with my friend?"

  Minka's eyes targeted me. "Your friend?" she said, unconvinced.

  Madison stood up, meeting Minka's gaze. "What of it?"

  Minka sat, giving me one last glance before cowering in her seat. I wanted to high-five Madison but settled for an appreciative grin. She winked at me and then walked to her desk in the back.

  "Please turn your textbooks to page one seventy-three," Mr. Simons said. "The study guide will be online tonight, and the test is Friday. Don't forget the paper on disuse muscle atrophy is due Monday."

  Besides the paper for Mr. Simons, I had homework in three other classes, plus work at the Juniper and the game. I wasn't sure I could fit it all in, but Elliott needed me.

  I turned to Madison, waiting until she looked at me, to give her a thumbs-up and mouth, I'm in. She clapped her hands together a few times without sound, and I turned around, smiling. It would be a delicate balance, having friends and keeping the Juniper private, but for the first time, I felt it was possible.

  Chapter Eighteen Elliott

  The brakes of the Chrysler whined as it came to a stop in front of the Calhoun mansion. Catherine was sitting next to me on the bench seat, seeming content with her hand in mine. Most teenagers felt stress their senior year, but for college applications, SAT scores, and ordering caps and gowns on time. Catherine was trapped deep inside something darker. All I wanted to do was save her or even just make it easier somehow--more bearable--but she wouldn't let me in. She'd been handling it all on her own for so long, I wasn't sure she knew how to let someone else help.

  But I had to try.

  "I'm going to warn you now. This weekend is driving practice number two," I said, squeezing her hand.

  The beginnings of a smile turned her mouth upward. "Really?"

  "You're turning eighteen in a few months, and you've only driven once."

  Catherine peered over at Mr. Calhoun's Buick. It had sat next to the house in the same spot since the day I'd left--the day Mr. Calhoun was taken away in an ambulance and never came home. Grass had grown up around his car and died away for two summers, and two of the tires were flat.

  "I don't know why you're so adamant for me to drive. I don't have a car," Catherine said.

  "I was thinking more about taking turns driving when we start traveling. We only need one car for that."

  "Traveling?"

  "After graduation. Remember? We talked about it before your first driving lesson. I thought we'd agreed? That it was set in stone?" It bothered me that she had to ask.

  "I know, but you're probably going to college, and I haven't seen you with your camera in a long time."

  I gestured to the back, and she turned, seeing my camera bag on the seat.

  "You're still taking pictures?" she asked.

  "Tons."

  "So you're like a ninja paparazzi? That's kind of creepy."

  "I photograph more things than just you," I said with a smirk.

  "Like what?"

  "Football practice, the guys on the athletics bus, leaves, trees, insects, empty benches, my aunt cooking . . . whatever catches my eye."

  "Good to know I'm not the only one you stalk."

  "You're still my favorite subject."

  "Maybe you can take photography in college? Not that you're not already good, but if you love it so much, you should."

  The smile that was on my face melted away. I wasn't sure if I was going to college or not. "Coach said some scouts will be at the Yukon game. The entire team is pissed at me for leaving. It's going to get dirty. Of all games for the scouts to watch."

  "I told Maddy I'd ride with her."

  I checked for some sign that she was joking. "Are you messing with me?"

  "No! I wouldn't do that."

  A huge weight was lifted off my shoulders. Catherine couldn't do anything about the hell they'd inevitably put me through on the field, but knowing she was out there cheering me on would help me fight through it. "You're really going to ride with Maddy? Do you know my aunt and uncle can't go?"

  "Maddy mentioned it."

  "So you're going."

  "It's your birthday. I'm going."

  A wide grin stretched across my face. "You remembered that?"

  "You're a Scorpio. I'm an Aquarius. It means we're terrible for each other. I'm sure I memorized that entire summer, but especially that."

  I
stared at her in awe, shaking my head and then cupping her face, planting a soft kiss on her lips. I leaned forward, touching her forehead to mine. She had to love me. She had to. I closed my eyes. "Promise me something."

  "What?" she asked.

  "Please let this be something that lasts. Not like our parents. Not something trivial. I don't want to be the high school boyfriend you tell your friends about when you're an adult."

  "You give me too much credit, assuming I'll have friends."

  "You'll have friends. Lots of friends. People who adore you like I do."

  She lifted her chin and rose up on the balls of her feet to kiss me one last time before she pulled on the handle. It stuck, so I reached across and pushed on it hard enough that it opened.

  I gently held her arm, stopping her before she stepped out onto the curb. The Chrysler was our space, a place where outside forces couldn't touch. I felt more connected with her there and brave enough to tell her whatever was on my mind. "I love you, Catherine."

  Her eyes sparkled. "I love you, too."

  The door closed, and I watched her walk through the gate and up the steps. She paused before going in, turning to wave at me.

  Chapter Nineteen Catherine

  I stood on the porch and waved to Elliott. It wasn't yet four o'clock, but already the sun was low in the sky. I didn't want to go in, so I waved at him for too long. I didn't want him to worry more than he already was, but there I stood, blatantly delaying the moment of walking into the Juniper.

  The days were shorter, and dark things happened at the Juniper at night. The guests were up more, walking the halls, unable to sleep, whispering to one another about plans to keep the bed and breakfast going, to keep me there. As the days passed, they were only more restless, worried about the Juniper's future and worried what would happen if I tried to leave.

  I watched Elliott wave back at me, waiting until I was safely inside, because he didn't know my frightening reality. If I told him what I'd gone through and was going through now, he would believe me. If I told him, he would keep me safe, but I wasn't sure I could do the same for him. The truth would only trap him like it had me. He couldn't tell; he couldn't fight it. He would be reduced to watching helplessly on the sidelines, just as he was doing now. Telling him would change nothing.

  I opened the door just enough that he'd pull away, feeling sentimental as I watched the Chrysler drive farther down the street. A tear welled up in my eye. I was ignoring the inevitable, selfishly enjoying my time with Elliott while I could. After graduation, he was going to leave me--again--because I couldn't go with him. Mama didn't have anyone else. Last time, it was his mom's fault; this time it would be mine.

  As the door opened, I saw Poppy in her favorite dress sitting in the middle of the floor, her face in her hands.

  "Poppy?" I said, kneeling beside her. "What is it?"

  She looked up at me with wet eyes. "I tried to help today. I tried, and I think I broke the washing machine."

  I took in a deep breath, trying not to panic. "Show me."

  Poppy stood and led me by the hand to the utility room. Suds and water were all over the floor, the machine silent. I reached behind to turn off the water and then peered into the drum. Towels that were once white were now pink, mixed with Mama's favorite red sweater that was supposed to be washed by hand.

  I pressed my fingers to my forehead. "Oh my. Well, first things first . . . the mop."

  Poppy scampered off and, within seconds, brought me the mop and a bucket.

  "Poppy . . ."

  "I know. No more helping."

  "We've talked about this. When you're here, you wait for me."

  Poppy nodded, her finger in her mouth. "I'm sorry."

  "So what have you been up to?" I asked, hoping she'd talk while I worked. I put dry towels into laundry baskets and then separated the soaked items.

  "How are you going to fix it?" she asked.

  "I think," I grunted, "if I just tighten the hose, it should be okay. I wish Elliott . . ." I trailed off.

  "Elliott who?"

  I smiled. "Elliott's a friend."

  Poppy frowned. "The boy with the camera?"

  "Yes, from the backyard. I forgot you were there that day." I stood up and stretched my back. "Now where do you suppose we've put the wrench?"

  I looked through cabinets in the kitchen and utility room, finally finding the toolbox in the cabinet next to the washing machine. I pulled the washer away from the wall and, after a few turns of the wrench, turned on the water and then the washer, and watched as it filled without leaking all over the floor.

  Poppy clapped. "See? You didn't need Elliott."

  "I guess not," I said, blowing a strand of hair from my face. "You know what we should do now?"

  Poppy shook her head.

  I hugged her to me. "We should read Alice in Wonderland."

  Poppy stepped back and bounced up and down, clapping again. "Really?"

  "Yes, and then I have to work on a paper."

  "I'll get the book!" Poppy said, leaving me alone in the utility room.

  "Isn't that paper due on Monday?" Mama asked from the kitchen.

  I wiped my brow. "Yes, but . . . I was going to talk to you about Friday night. Elliott has a game. It's out of town."

  Mama didn't answer, so I walked around the corner. She looked better than she had the night I'd found her in the basement. She seemed rested, the color back in her cheeks.

  "Mama?"

  "I heard you. You said you had a paper due Monday." She was busy putting away dishes, avoiding eye contact.

  "I was going to start on it tonight so I'd have it finished in time."

  "What about the rest of your homework?"

  "I'll get it done."

  "What about the Juniper?"

  I fidgeted, picking at my fingers until I conjured up the courage. "I'd like Friday night off."

  It took a full minute for Mama to answer. I knew Duke was close, so I hoped she wouldn't get angry and her yelling would get his attention. It wouldn't be the first time he'd tried to discipline me for Mama.

  "If you just tell me what you need done, I can try to finish it Thursday night. And Friday morning before school."

  She looked away, shaking her head.

  "Mama . . ."

  "You listen to me, Catherine. I knew that boy was trouble the first time you talked about him. You moped around this house for two years after he left, and now that he's back, you've fallen right back into his claws. He's using you. The second he graduates, he'll be out of here, and he won't look back."

  "That's not true."

  "You don't know anything."

  "I know that he's asked me to come with him after graduation. He wants to travel, Mama, and he wants me with him. He . . . he loves me."

  She turned her back to me and chuckled, the tittering, scary laugh she had just before she lost her temper. But this time, she was quiet, and that was more frightening than Duke.

  "You're not leaving," she said finally. "We discussed it."

  "Who discussed it?"

  "The guests and me. The other night. We agreed."

  "You agreed? Mama," I pleaded, "what are you talking about? The guests don't get to decide that for me. You don't get to decide."

  "You're staying."

  "The game is just ninety minutes away," I begged.

  "After graduation, I need you here. You can't go."

  Everything I wanted to say caught in my throat behind years of pent-up frustration and loneliness. She knew what I'd been through, how miserable I was in the Juniper, but she didn't care. She couldn't, because the alternative was to sink with the ship. My shoulders sagged. Part of me hoped she would release me and tell me to go. "I'm not going after graduation, Mama. I've already decided."

  Mama turned, wringing her apron in her hands with tears in her eyes. "You have?"

  I nodded, and Mama walked the few steps to wrap me in her arms, her shoulders shaking with each sob. "Thank you, Catherine.
I told them you wouldn't leave us. I knew it."

  I let her go. "Told who?"

  "You know . . . the guests. Except for that Bill fellow. I don't think he'll be back," she said, almost to herself. "Althea is the only one who thinks it's a good idea that you go."

  "Bill?"

  She waved me away. "Oh, Mr. Heitmeyer. He was fit to be tied when he left. He's the sort who needs a cold shower. I don't know what the fuss was about." She cupped my shoulders. "Catherine, you keep this place running. You keep us together. If it weren't for you, we couldn't keep going the way we are."

  I frowned, letting her words simmer. "I'm taking Friday night off."

  Mama nodded her head. "Okay. That's fair. You just . . . you promised not to leave."

  "I know what I said."

  I left her to go upstairs, picking up my backpack along the way. A flash of black caught my eye, and I passed my bedroom and the guest rooms to peer around the corner. A four-wheeled carry-on was standing with the handle fully extended next to the stairway that led to Mama's room. I checked the luggage tag, praying I wasn't right.

  WILLIAM HEITMEYER

  674 OLEANDER BOULEVARD

  WILKES-BARRE, PENNSYLVANIA

  18769

  My breath caught, and I backed away from the roller bag. There were two rows of suitcases in the basement, all with different names. Mr. Heitmeyer's would be added to the pile of things left behind--that's what Mama called them. My head began to spin, and my chest felt tight. People didn't just leave things behind. I didn't believe that anymore. Not since Elliott came back.

  "Catherine?" Althea said.

  I jumped, then touched my hand to my chest. "Oh. Althea. Do you, um . . . do you know about this?" I asked, gesturing to the bag.

  Althea scanned the bag and then smiled at me. "No. Want me to ask your mama when I see her?"

  "No, that's okay. I'll ask her. Thanks." I made my way to my room.

  "Everything okay, sugar?"

  "All good. Let me know if you need anything," I called back.

  "You do the same," she said.

  I could hear the uncertainty in her voice, and I was sure to her my behavior seemed odd, but it was best not to drag Althea into any suspicious activity. Althea was the only solid ground I had within the walls of the Juniper, and I didn't want her to be involved in whatever that suitcase meant.

  The four books inside my bag hit my bed with a thud, and I sat down next to it. After five minutes, Poppy still hadn't come in for the story. I was glad; I had too much to do before the game. The night meeting when the guests were in one room, talking in frightened, panicked voices, was about me, and it was disturbing to know I was the reason for it. I wondered if it was the first one and if there would be more.