Crow would never go back on Adele.
“Yeah, I know I— you did.” I straightened and took a few steps toward her. “So I won’t ask you to do anything. Just help me. I’ll take it on. I’ll do it, work on it from Will’s end. All I need is a complete history of what’s happened between them so far. Anything you know about him. I need his story.”
“You want me to write it down?” Crow slowly pushed off the wall and approached. She circled me, stopping directly in front. “Yeah, I’ll do that.”
“Okay, well then, I need to be going.” I grabbed her by the arm and looked into her eyes. Confused eyes. “Crow, you’re beautiful.”
“I know.” Her face hardened. “So are you.”
I grinned. She didn’t.
“Crow! Where the he—” Basil huffed up the hall and skidded to a halt beside her. My hand was still on her arm, and Basil reached out and pried loose my fingers. “I’m surprised you still have all your digits. . . . I know you.”
“Hey, Shane!” Thomas ran up from the other direction. “You missed the bus.”
The four of us stood, gawking at one another. Basil’s lips slowly parted. “You’re the jerk who watched my sled get tagged.”
“You’re the pizza sign who got thrashed by an eggplant.” I turned to Thomas, rounded his shoulder with one arm, and pulled him nearer. “Crow, Basil, this is Thomas; his parents run Hope Home, so he’s my boss.”
Thomas raised his hands. “I’m not really his boss—”
“How do you know my name?” Basil frowned, his eyes slits. “Crow, did you tell him?”
She rolled her eyes. “Let it go, Basil. There’s something unnatural going on. You push him, and I don’t think it’ll be pretty.” Crow turned back toward me, a slight smile tugging at her lips.
“I think he needs to be pushed,” Basil said.
I stepped toward him. “How’s Dove? Bet she’s looking forward to her gardens come spring. And your dad? I saw him and another officer when I first got to town.”
Basil glanced at Crow. “Did you tell—”
“Told ya.” Crow’s face held panic, and she backed away. “I’d like you to meet Shane Owen.”
Thomas swallowed hard. “I’m more the son of his boss, but still. So Crow, I’ve uh, I’ve been meaning to ask—”
“Shane Owen. Shane Owen, I know that name . . . crap.” Basil winced. “You ain’t her, though.”
Crow backhanded Basil hard. “But you wish he was.” She turned and stomped away. Basil scurried after her, paused to glance at me over his shoulder, and then rounded the corner.
Thomas and I stood in silence.
“Hi Crow, how nice to meet you. Me? Oh, I wanted to see if you’d like to grab a coffee. I’m headed that way. My name? Thomas Loumans. But I realize it’s hard to care about that with Shane around.” He shoved me. “Maybe just stop introducing me. I felt less invisible when you weren’t here.”
CHAPTER 16
THE THOUGHTS OF C. RAINE
Pity is for the living, envy is for the dead.
Mark Twain
I WALKED DOWN THE SNOWY ROAD, THOMAS SILENT AT MY SIDE. It’s true I hadn’t done much for his cause, which might, in retrospect, have been a tremendous miscalculation. There is a fantastic, stabilizing effect when a level-headed guy likes you. It’s like taking a seasickness pill. The waves don’t seem so big, and though you still get sick, it seems to get cleaned up quicker.
I would have liked to tell Thomas my story. I think he might have believed it, or half believed it. I could sure accompany it with much convincing proof. But my tasks were complicated, and I remained silent, listening to the crunch of my feet and the rumble of traffic.
And one oncoming snowmobile.
Basil roared up to us and swished me with snow. He lifted his visor and massaged the pressure mark. “Get on!”
Thomas started toward the sled.
“Not you!” Basil pointed. “You.” He scooted forward, and I peeked at Thomas, raised my eyebrows.
“Oh, go ahead.” Thomas swept snow off his jeans. “Forget that I waited for you.”
I tongued my cheek and turned to Basil. “You’re driving me home?”
“Nope. Get on.”
“One short ride.”
A half hour later we reached Basil’s corner of Hennepin, and Basil eased to the snow mound that hid the curb.
We walked by Basil’s apartment toward Lake Calhoun. We rounded the lake, enjoying an extremely awkward half hour of silence, and veered onto Lake Harriet Parkway. Basil headed for the band shell. There, on the stage, he plunked down. “Sit.”
He looked to be sinking into another quiet phase, but I’d had enough.
“I don’t mean to mess with this little drama, but I actually work, and I need to get back, so tell me—”
“Do you know what happened here ten years ago? I was eight?”
“You met Crow for the first time. She was sitting right there.” I pointed to the back bench. “You were across the aisle there. She was cute, but you were only eight. You waved, and she didn’t, and something beautiful started.
“But then a few years later, Shane showed up, and it turned out there was a lot less to you than Crow thought. Anything else you want to say?”
Basil jumped up. “So that’s what she told you, huh? Even now, my mom lets her stay at her place ’cause at home, Crow has nothing! She’s a head case. A freakin’ hot head case, but she’s my head case, you got that? Crow is mine.”
Paying for lunch had morphed into full-blown ownership. Frightening. Basil was sweet and kind and giving. He was also the friend from Hades. Interestingly, the two can coexist.
“I see. So what about Mel? Crow mentioned you spend quite a bit of time together. Mel’s all fine with this pimping side?”
Basil’s mouth hung open. I’m sure his goal had been to bring me onto his home turf and lay down the law. Nothing went the way he planned. Typical Basil.
“Mel knows what she needs to know,” he said quietly.
I stood. “Isn’t she your girlfriend?”
“She’s what I want her to be.”
Inside my chest floated a steamy anger, like someone had popped the top of a pressure valve.
“I’m taking Crow from you.” I shoved Basil back onto the stage and walked away. “You never had her. You never will.”
“I’ll prove it! When I’m done, you’ll see,” he shouted. It was no idle threat. He would try to prove it. I knew where, and I knew when. For the first time I felt worry—not for Addy, but for Crow.
For me.
I broke into a slow jog—I had a ways to go. “Protect Addy from Will. Protect Crow from Basil.” My steps fell to the rhythm of the mantra.
Preventing Mayday was becoming more and more challenging.
• • •
Three hours later, I stood in front of Mom’s place, Basil’s words ringing in my head.
“Crow!” I pounded on her window. “You in there?”
The curtain shifted, and her voice reached into the night. “In front.”
I marched onto the driveway and waited beneath the streetlamp’s glow. The front door swung open. Crow stepped into the chill, wearing only an oversize black T-shirt. I exhaled and tried to look away, but I couldn’t. She motioned me nearer, and I obeyed.
“You stalking me now?” She took a step closer. “That’s not nearly as appealing as the mysterious vibe you were working.”
“I know.” I bent over and packed a tight snowball, let it fall to the ground. “I want to talk.”
“Not inside,” she said.
“You said you had a tree house?”
She thought hard. “Yeah. Okay.” The door closed, and when Crow reappeared, she was wrapped in a blanket, her bare legs stuffed into winter boots. Stinking adorable.
I trudged through the snow and climbed the steps, squeezed through the hole. I barely fit. Crow followed, reached the top, and shivered. She scooted near me, and my body tingled. We were in frightening territory.
I turned and faced her. “There’s stuff I want to tell you.”
She reached behind a stack of books, grabbed a cigarette, lit it, took a drag, and offered it to me.
I never had cigarettes up here before. More changes to Crow’s life.
I stared at Crow’s outstretched hand. Does this Shane smoke?
Four big hacks.
Nope.
I handed it back.
“Do you believe in reincarnation, Shane?”
I chuckled. “I used to. I read a lot of Hindu writs, and they almost had me convinced, but my experience says otherwise.”
“One fifth of the world does,” Crow said. “And if they’re wrong, you have a lot of explaining to do.”
For once, I was in no mood to talk philosophy. “We need to talk about Basil. The guy is slimy. I just spoke with him.”
“Basil is a lot of things.” Crow picked at the floorboards. “He’s a hard-luck case.”
“No. He knows exactly what he’s doing.”
“And what is he doing?”
“He’ll expect a gift this Christmas. Something you don’t want to give him. You know it; I know you do. I remember thinking, feeling it when Basil and I were together. Do you know what I mean?”
Crow tossed the cigarette and ground the butt into the floor. “What the hell? When Basil and you were together?” She paused. “There is not one explanation in any of these books that explains your possessing the facts you do. Please, is there something I need to know?”
“Yeah,” I swallowed. “But I can’t go there right now. I need you to focus. I’m worried. For you.”
Crow rubbed her arms. “You’ve just joined a very small club. Listen, Basil’s doing fine. He has Mel. Good for them both.”
“But as far as he’s concerned, you’re the challenge, the one always there but just out of reach,” I said. “I’m telling you so you’re ready. So when the time comes, you’re alert, and your head’s on straight.”
“Caution noted. I consider myself warned.” Crow peeked into my eyes. “And what do you want from me?” She raised her black fingernails to her mouth.
“Don’t tell her, child.”
Sadie sat, cross-legged, knitting needles in hand. She touched my neck. “I go to all this work makin’ you a scarf, and you don’t even wear it.”
I point at Sadie. Crow doesn’t turn. “I’m waiting. You tell me all about Basil, but you can’t say anything about yourself? What’s with that?”
“Shane, she can’t see me. And I’m only interrupting as you be messin’ with the system again. Too much information goin’ out to too many people. The future is changing because of you, and not in ways you want it to. People are making decisions based on info they should not yet have.”
“Where are you, Shane?” Crow waved her hand in front of my face. I forced a smile in her direction and turned back to Sadie.
“So listen,” Sadie said. “This is not a request. Consider it commanded. No more prophesying. No more of that. Tellin’ folks what they done in private and warning them of what’s to come. Your own future is hanging close as is. The locket, take a look.”
I’d forgotten about the colors. I forced my fingers into my pocket and pulled out the chain. I slowly opened the clasp. Yellow had turned to brilliant orange. Red was coming. I’d dreamed red enough to know. Red meant death.
Time was running out.
Crow pushed back. “Where did you get that? What’s going on?”
I glanced from Crow to Sadie to Crow to nobody. I pocketed my locket. “Nothing. I need to go.”
“Listen.” Crow sounded near desperate. I’d never heard the tone. “Would you ever consider coming with me to Christmas? I can’t bear it here without somebody. Normally, Addy and I stagger through the holiday together, but this year she’ll be occupied.”
I thought on that, watched fear ripple across Crow’s face. She leaned forward and let the blanket fall, slipped into my arms, and pulled them tight around her. My body tingled, warmed, hardened.
Crow shifted inside my hold; the unbreakable Crow felt soft, open, and she pressed her nose into my neck. I knew if her lips reached mine, something both sensual and really strange wouldn’t be far behind. We were already one, soul mates in the truest sense. Like half of a magnet, my soul was drawn, desperate to enter the body it had inhabited. But more than my soul. This body, this Shane, burned with an aggression I’d never felt. I wanted Crow, all of her.
I forced my body back, gently held her face, and kissed her . . . on the forehead, and on both cheeks.
“Yes, Crow. I want to be where you are.” I reached for the blanket and wrapped it around her shoulders, paused, and watched her open her eyes.
“I’ve never met anybody like you,” she whispered.
“Yeah, you have.”
Crow thought for a moment. “Good. Well, good.” She rubbed her face and reached for another cigarette. “Adele is bringing someone, too.”
I froze. Addy hadn’t brought anyone the last time through.
“Then I’ll definitely be here.”
CHAPTER 17
THE THOUGHTS OF C. RAINE
They must often change, who would be constant in happiness or wisdom.
Confucius
I RAN AWAY FROM HOME THE LAST DAY OF MY JUNIOR YEAR. Jude had taken a three-month teaching position in some teach-a-shrink program, and, tired of enduring Mom’s wrath, and with no desire to return to another summer’s incarceration at the minimum-wage Shack, it seemed a good time to bail. I told Basil and Mel that I’d be in touch, and hopped the light rail directly from school, ending at the twisty, tangled mess that was the downtown St. Paul train depot.
It wasn’t as easy as I figured. Coal cars ruled the day, and I didn’t find the thought of riding high on a mound of soot particularly appealing. But eventually, Burlington Northern hauled out of the way, and a Canadian line snaked onto the tracks. Filled with empty boxcars, it was the perfect transport.
I threw my pack inside. Heavy thing, it held six books, including the writings of Confucius, the Dalai Lama, the Holy Bible, a translation of the Quran, and some Indian New Age writs—I was passing through a spiritual phase—two candles, incense, and matches. Five PowerBars, an iPad, some personals, and my knife bulged that pack to the breaking point. I nestled back, folded my hands behind my head, and sighed.
“Crow? Crow! Where are you?”
“Addy?”
It turned out Basil had cracked and told Addy, whose desperate call was plenty loud to alert railmen of my escape.
I stuck my head out the open side of the boxcar. “Over here. You should be home. I’m kind of busy at the moment.”
“Maybe . . .” She glanced around the depot, at the tracks, into the boxcar. Nerves set her leg bouncing. “Maybe I should go with you?”
Can’t you just hear that conviction?
Have you ever been loved for no reason? Have you ever felt so despicable that the presence of a kind soul makes you feel even more heinous? I did, but this was Adele, and I could never turn her down. Why tell you all this?
On that day, I taught my sister how to jump a train. It took her some effort. She was fighting conscience throughout the maneuver, and received several bruises for her hesitation, but eventually she got it. I thought the Canadian would take us north. We ended up in Chicago, where Addy offered a sigh so doleful, we switched trains and headed back home.
The point is, Addy had experience jumping trains.
Something to keep in mind.
• • •
Christmastime at Hope Home was a festive affair.
Do four Christmas trees seem ex
cessive to you? How about a life-size manger scene in the front yard, complete with twenty-four wooden figurines, at least a dozen more than actually appeared in the biblical narrative? And what would you say to Christmas music, streaming twenty-four/seven from a speaker hung from a large elm?
Yep. That’s what I said.
And lights. There are Christmas lighters, and Christmas leeches: people who suck enjoyment from the lighters’ overdone efforts.
Mr. Loumans was a lighter and went all in.
Racing around the roof of the three-story, he hung icicle lights and bulb lights and flashers. The sheer quantity was oppressive, the variety visually assaulting, but somehow at night it all worked.
But for all the excitement going on outside, the inside of his place was, by his report, a morgue—a pleasant morgue.
“Your influence on Will has been nothing short of miraculous.” He smirked down at me from the top of the ladder.
“Miraculous, huh? That might be overstated.” I winced, unraveled a vicious knot in a string of lights, and fed him more slack. He apparently felt it his duty to rival the moon with Christmas lights.
“I think not. I need to tell you this. The boy had a perfect week, which, in turn, meant the rest of the boys had perfect weeks.”
“Great for you, and Ms. Amy, and Thomas.” I stared at the pile of dead flashers heaped in the snow. “You all deserve a little peace on earth. So tell me about Christmas at Hope Home. Will the boys go somewhere?”
“All but Will.” Mr. Loumans paused. “Surely you have been long monitoring his unique case, so I’ll spare you the details. The thing is . . .” He lowered a string of lights and stepped onto the top rung. “Will has received an invitation. I spoke to the host family. I’ve half a mind to let him go.”
“And the other half?”
“Thinks it a recipe for disaster. I thought I’d consult with you. Any thoughts?”
“I take it we’re talking about a friend from school?”