Keepsake: True North #2

  “You don’t know how relieved I am.” She moved over and threw herself in my arms.

  I hugged her back, but she felt entirely unfamiliar to me. My brain couldn’t help but do a comparison with Lark. She wasn’t the right size, and she didn’t smell like Lark.

  Luckily, Maeve got jealous. “Me too,” she said, forcing herself between our legs, wrapping herself around my knees again.

  I broke off the hug to pick her up, and the little girl wrapped her arms around my neck.

  “Aw,” Chastity said. “That’s the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.”

  I felt the familiar sensation of my face flushing. “I lived here when she was born,” I explained. “I showed up a few months before.”

  “Good timing. They probably needed your help then.”

  “You have no idea,” Leah said, entering the room and the conversation at the same time. “After Maeve was born, Isaac and I didn’t sleep for five months straight. But Zach got up every single morning at dawn to milk our cows. He made coffee. He fed the chickens and collected eggs. He held this place together, and I’ll never be able to thank him enough.”

  My cheeks burned brighter at the praise. I’d forgotten those days. In fact, my own memory of that time was different. Sure, I’d done all the farm work that Leah mentioned. But manual labor was easy. The hard part of those months had been my confusion. I’d spent my first year feeling about as valuable as a clod of cow shit on the bottom of someone’s boot.

  Being thrown away will do that to a guy.

  “The only thing he didn’t do was hold the newborn baby.” Leah laughed. “It wasn’t until Maeve began to crawl that he’d pick her up.”

  That was also true. “She seemed really breakable,” I said in my own defense.

  “Is that why?” Leah teased. “I assumed it was because she screamed her head off for the first few months of her life. And what nineteen-year-old guy wants anything to do with a screaming baby?” Leah held out her arms for Maeve, but the little girl shook her head and clung to me. She knew that Leah wanted to put her to bed.

  “I don’t scream,” Maeve said then, sliding to the floor and resting her chin on my knee.

  “You’re right,” I agreed, and she gave me a silly smile. “What a crazy idea.” I reached down to wiggle a finger in the soft place just below Maeve’s ribs, which was a tickle spot. And she let out a shriek that could wake the dead.

  Leah seized the moment, grabbing a cackling Maeve from me and hurrying out of the room with her.

  In the silence, I turned to Chastity and found her smiling at me. “It makes me happy to see you doing well.”

  “Thanks,” I said, wishing she were right. A week ago I’d been doing great. Tonight? Not so much. But that wasn’t her fault. “Tell me how I can help you.”

  She shrugged. “I’m sure there will be some way or another. But Isaac and Leah have been great. They’re going to help me find a job somewhere. My old manager will give me a reference.”

  I wondered if it could really be as easy as that. “There must be something. I want to help. It’s my fault that you got in trouble. I’ve always felt bad about it.”

  She cocked her head. “Haven’t you been listening? You did me a favor. If you hadn’t ruined my virtue, I’d be married to a sixty-year-old man right now, and I’d have two kids and a third one on the way.”

  Isaac walked in then with a glass of water. “If Zach’s not listening, it might be all that wine he guzzled at dinner. Drink this.” He offered me the glass.

  And here I’d thought nobody had noticed. I took the water and drank it down.

  “Good boy.” Isaac ruffled my hair like I was a kid. Then he sat down on the footstool. “I noticed that your girl didn’t come for dinner tonight.”

  “She’s not my girl,” I said, with a shake of my head.

  Isaac and Chastity made almost identical woebegone faces.

  “I can’t fix that right now,” I said slowly. But in spite of the wine, tonight’s weird reminiscing had got me thinking. Yesterday Isaac had asked me that question—would I have been ready to meet Lark right after I left Wyoming? I’d brushed the question off. But I’d been a bigger mess back then than I cared to admit.

  Poor Lark. She was right back where I’d been, still too close to the park bench and the lonely highway to relax.

  “Give it time,” Isaac said again.

  “I’m going to,” I decided. “She’s leaving tomorrow, and I can’t change that. The only thing to do is regroup for a second assault on her defenses.”

  “That’s my boy. And you sound like Griff’s movies.” Isaac chuckled.

  It was true, and it gave me an idea. “Maybe it’s time to introduce Chastity to Star Wars. Why wait, you know?”

  Chastity sat up straighter. “A whole movie? That’s something I’ve never done.”

  Isaac grabbed the remote off the TV table. “All right,” he said. “Chastity, welcome to the free world, where we are allowed to rot our brains any way we see fit.”

  “You have no idea how happy that makes me,” she said.

  “What else is on your bucket list?” I asked her.

  She ticked a few things off on her fingers. “Beer. Dancing. Television. Chocolate. Coke.”

  “All the finer things in life,” Isaac said with a grin. “We can have soda right now, too.”

  “I’ll get it,” I said, standing up.

  Isaac shook his head. “Nope. Just take a load off for once and let someone else run the errands.” He handed me the clicker. “Find the movie. I’ll get the sodas.”

  I made myself comfortable on the couch and tried to relax.

  28

  Lark

  I’m there again. Same shack. Same dust motes hanging in the only beam of light in the room where they’re holding me.

  Oscar is angry tonight. That’s new. We’re standing toe to toe, which is unusual. He’s speaking rapid-fire Spanish, but in my dream I can understand him perfectly. He’s upset at me for being mean to Zach. “That’s just like you,” he says. “You’re doing it again.”

  “Which way is it?” I demand. “Are you angry that I had Zach? Or are you angry that I don’t anymore! How do I satisfy you so you’ll go away? Just tell me and I’ll do it!”

  As I shout at him, his eyes go dim. And then I feel something wet at my feet.

  I look down. His blood is pooling around my bare toes. He’s bleeding out on the floor. I look up again in horror, but now his eyes are lifeless.

  While I stood there arguing with him, he bled to death. And it’s all my fault.

  I scream, and I scramble backward, away from the blood. But it runs toward me. And the other men are coming. They grab my shoulders, and they push me down in the dirt.

  “That’s not what happened!” I yell. But they don’t listen. A hand clamps down on each of my shoulders and I scream with everything I’ve got.

  * * *

  A strong hand squeezed mine. “Shh, baby. You’re dreaming.”

  But the touch didn’t comfort me the way it was supposed to. Something was still wrong—the voice. It was all wrong. Still panicking, I struggled against this unfamiliar hand. I screamed again. “Let go!”

  He released me immediately. “Calm down, Wild Child. You’re okay.” The big hand pushed hair out of my face.

  I sat up with a sudden violence, and the darkened Vermont bedroom came into focus. I whipped my head around to find Griffin sitting on the bed beside me. But the look on his face scared me even more. He watched me with the caution you’d reserve for unexploded ordnance. And behind him, Kyle and Kieran stood framed in the bedroom doorway, their mouths hanging open.

  I needed to get a grip. I needed… Shit. “Where’s Zach?” I whispered.

  Griffin looked, if possible, even more uneasy. “At Isaac and Leah’s, I guess. He didn’t come home tonight.”

  My brain caught up for a second, and I remembered. I’d sent him away.

  And that was the moment when all hope died.
I was all alone with my awful memories, and I would be for the rest of my life.

  Unshed tears collected at the back of my throat while three sleepy men stared back at me. I’d come to Vermont to get better, and failed. This pain would never go away. While I tried to sleep, I was always going to see that room—and Oscar’s face—for the rest of my life.

  A big sob shuddered my chest as the certainty descended on me like a cold mist, bringing goosebumps to my arms and the back of my neck. Another sob followed the first one. And then another, like swells in the ocean.

  “Lark,” Griff growled. “Calm down, honey.”

  “I…can’t,” I gasped, my teeth chattering together. “Griff, I t-tried. But I can’t do it anymore. I’m so t-tired.”

  “Shh. I got you.”

  Things went fuzzy then, like a camera’s lens knocked out of focus. I felt my body begin to shake, and I heard a rushing sound in my ears. The walls tilted unpredictably.

  Strong arms caught me. “Get my phone and my keys,” a gruff voice ordered. “Put on some shoes, then go outside and pull my truck around.”

  I didn’t want to hear any of it. Everything was mayhem, and I’d had all I could take. So I squeezed my eyes shut, closing myself off to the voices, and I pushed my consciousness into a tiny place, even smaller than a shack in the desert. I pinched my whole self tightly together, folding my soul like a flimsy scarf, until there was barely anything left.

  My last conscious thought was of Oscar’s stricken face.

  And then nothing.

  29

  Zach

  I dozed, my body tipped forward against the hospital bed, my head propped in the crook of one arm. My free hand held Lark’s. I’d tried to doze and listen for her at the same time. But I’d been here and mostly awake since three a.m., so the sleeping won out.

  That’s why it took me a minute to discover when Lark awoke. Her hand jerked from mine, and valuable seconds were lost as I struggled to pull myself from the depths of sleep.

  “No,” she whispered, and the sound brought me fully awake. But Lark wasn’t dreaming. She was looking around the hospital room in dismay. And then her face crumpled.

  I was on my feet and leaning over the bed the next second. I pulled her in, kissing her forehead. “It’s okay,” I said. “You’re okay.”

  “I’ve really fucked up now,” she whispered. Her shoulders began to shake. “Griffin… And you… My parents are going to kill me.”

  “They got here an hour ago,” I said as calmly as I could.

  “This isn’t supposed to be me,” Lark rasped. “I’m not really like this.”

  “I know, sweetie.”

  She surprised me then, by putting one hand in the center of my chest and giving a sharp push. “You should get as far away from me as you can. Just fucking run—” A sob cut off the sentence. “Look where we are right now! Why are you even here with me?”

  I pulled her into my lap, my arms caging her in. She relaxed immediately, resting her forehead against my collarbone. “Zach, I’m so sorry.”

  “I know.”

  “When I said… Before… That was mean. And not true.”

  “Shh. It’s not the time to worry about that.” I cradled her head, which lolled against my shoulder. The doctor had told me the sedatives they’d given her were pretty strong.

  “It’s just that I couldn’t be what you want me to be.”

  I took a deep breath in through my nose. “I get that now. It’s okay. I still have you as a friend, right? I don’t have too many of those.” I tried, but it was hard to keep my voice from sounding raw. The very person I needed to be strong for was the one who could make me fall to pieces.

  “I’m a wreck.”

  “I noticed.” I rocked her against my chest. “I’ve been a wreck, too. It doesn’t last forever.” I held on tight. It was hard to shake the notion that if I just held her indefinitely, everything would be okay. It was naive, though. I was ready to admit that she needed more help.

  Though everything seemed steadier whenever I could feel her heartbeat. And I knew I was good for her, because I felt her body relax against mine.

  I was good for her. I was. But my love wasn’t enough to cure the problem, no matter how much I wished it was.

  The door opened, and her parents walked in.

  “You said you’d call us if she woke up!” Lark’s mother’s voice was shrill enough to make me wince.

  “Jill,” her father warned, putting a hand on her shoulder. “Stand down.” The only reason her parents had been willing to leave the room at all was to hunt down and interrogate the psychiatrist on duty.

  And now the doctor entered the room wearing a crisp white coat and a studiously mild expression. “Lark, I’m Dr. Richards. I’m a psychiatrist.”

  “Wonderful,” Lark grumbled into my shirt. At that, the doctor smiled. That was a shred of good news—at least the man had a sense of humor. Lark would need that.

  There were five people in the little room now, and Lark was clinging to me for dear life.

  “Sweetheart,” her mother said in a teary voice. “We’re so worried. You could have told us that things weren’t getting better.”

  “But I hoped they were.” She lifted her teary face and took a deep breath. I watched her forcibly put the calm back on her face. I’d seen her do this many times before, too. But I’d never understood how much it cost her.

  “It’s all right, Lark,” her father said. “We’re not mad at you. But we need to make sure you get the help you need. You picked a hell of a way to get that doctor’s note.”

  Lark groaned. “Send me somewhere as an outpatient,” she said quickly. “I’m not going anywhere with locks on the doors. I wasn’t going to harm myself.”

  I watched her parents and the doctor exchange glances. “Sweetheart,” her mother tried again. “It’s important to get better. And you scared Griffin pretty bad last night…”

  My stomach rolled. I’d heard the story of her breakdown. The fear and the screaming. The doctor was concerned about a host of PTSD-related complications, like anxiety, depression, and suicide risk.

  I couldn’t even think those two words without wanting to be sick.

  “It’s hard to be your daughter sometimes,” Lark said, her voice flat. “You always warned me away from risk. But I thought I knew what I was doing—” Her voice broke. “—until very recently.”

  “Oh, honey,” her mother said, tears running down her face. “You don’t have to feel that way. I’ll listen. We’ll work something out.”

  The doctor cleared his throat. “Your treatment plan won’t be a hasty decision, I promise. But I’ll need to interview Lark, when she’s ready. It will help us figure out the right choice for her treatment.”

  Still sitting in my lap, she straightened her spine. “Okay. Let’s get it over with.”

  The doctor smiled. “Why don’t you have a little something to eat, and steady yourself? I’ll come back in half an hour and we’ll talk then.”

  “Okay,” Lark whispered.

  Lark’s father disappeared to the hospital cafeteria to buy his daughter a pastry. Her mother and I waited while Lark freshened up in the bathroom.

  “You can go home,” her mother said when it was just the two of us. “We’ll take it from here.”

  “No way,” I said immediately. It was probably the least polite response I’d ever given to a lady. But I had the terrible feeling that if I walked out that door right now, I’d never see Lark again. “I would never leave without saying goodbye.”

  Mrs. Wainright didn’t even attempt to conceal her frown of displeasure.

  It’s not that I couldn’t see her side of things. Here sat a big farm boy in her daughter’s hospital room, taking up space. But that was just too bad. If Lark told me to go, I’d listen. But I wouldn’t take orders from anyone else.

  Lark ate half the croissant her father brought and drank half a cup of coffee. Then she pushed the tray away. “I don’t really have an appe
tite.”

  “Eat, Lark,” her mother said. “You need your strength.”

  Her daughter’s eyes narrowed. “Really, Mom? If I come back to Boston, is it going to be like that?”

  “Everything is easier with a little something in your stomach. It’s just a fact.”

  Her father sighed. “Easy, Jill. Sedatives can make your stomach wonky.”

  “It’s just a little bread…” her mother argued, and I thought I might actually throw something at her. Instead, I reached across and grabbed the last piece of croissant and popped it into my mouth.

  Lark laughed for the first time in twenty-four hours. “You’re probably starved, but nobody here gives a damn.”

  I shrugged. “I’m fine.”

  “Drink this,” she said, passing me the coffee. “It’s hitting me like battery acid.”

  “Now there’s a recommendation.” She smiled, and I held her eyes. For that split second, everything was easier. I took a sip of the coffee.

  “Your friend is free to get something to eat while you speak to the doctor,” her mother said just as Dr. Richards entered the room.

  “Zach is staying,” Lark argued.

  “The doctor wants to see you alone,” her father said.

  She just shook her head. “I’m only telling this story once. And since Zach has basically been holding me together with prayer and duct tape for the past two months, he gets to hear it, too.”

  There was an uncomfortable silence while Lark’s family stared at one another in turn, and then everyone’s gaze landed on the doctor.

  “She’s in charge,” the doctor said easily.

  Lark’s mother gave me another glare, and then she turned and left the room.

  With an apologetic smile, her father did the same.

  The doctor shut the door, and parked his hip against the window sill. He pointed at the plastic visitor’s chair. To me, he said, “Please have a seat. You’re welcome to stay as long as Lark wishes it. And so long as you can listen quietly.”