She ran her fingers across the card and waited for her heart to slow. Then she pocketed it and picked up the neighborhood directory, flipping expertly to the listing for Boyette, John and Zell. Their children were still listed under their names though none of them lived with them anymore. Bryte found that a little sad. She dialed the number, thinking as she did of Zell’s second son, Ty. She’d kissed him once, in the woods behind the lake, near the little circle of trees that Jencey and Everett used to disappear into. She’d kissed Ty because she was bored, because he was there, and because she was determined to get over Everett.
She listened to the sound of Zell’s phone ringing in the house two streets over from hers, thinking that no kiss had ever been powerful enough to break the spell Everett had over her, no desire had ever been as strong as the one she had to make him hers. She traced the outline of the card in her pocket. She’d made him hers; now she just had to keep him. But Jencey wasn’t the threat anymore. She’d become that all by herself.
CAILEY
Three days went by. I told my mom I would just stay with Zell since she offered, and it was better than being at home alone all the time since Mom was always working or going to the hospital to be with Cutter. It wasn’t so bad being with Zell, except for how she kept talking to people on the phone about Cutter. She went into another room and lowered her voice, but I could make out enough to know that 1) this was just about the most exciting thing that had happened to her in a long time, and 2) Cutter was not doing so well. But you know what she would say to me? She would say he’s doing just fine and that I should be able to see him soon. I hate when adults lie to kids.
I wanted to see Cutter, even if he was out cold and hooked up to a lot of tubes and machines. I wanted to see my mom. I wanted to get it over with, the look she was going to give me, that one of utter disappointment that made me wish she’d just yell at me already. I wanted her to say out loud that I’d ruined everything and that I might’ve cost her her job and the house we rented and who knew what else. I’d talked to her on the phone twice, but both times it was really fast, and she wasn’t going to get into it with Zell hovering nearby anyway. My day of reckoning would come later, and the thought of it made my stomach hurt.
Zell tried to occupy my time so I wouldn’t think about Cutter and how awful everything was. She had me help her in the kitchen and tried to teach me how to play cards and took me to the library to check out books on her library card. I told her I might lose the books, and she said well, then, she’d just pay for them if that happened, but she didn’t think it would. I was glad she got me the books. It gave me a reason to go to my room (which was really her son’s room) and be by myself. But if I stayed in there too long, she knocked on the door and asked me if I was OK and wouldn’t I like something to drink or eat. She was always trying to feed me.
I guess if I had to stay somewhere, it wasn’t the worst place I could’ve ended up even if she did put me in a room that smelled like a boy. Zell was nice, if a bit peculiar (I like that word), and her husband, John, was funny. We ate dinner together, the three of us at the table talking about the news and the weather and the things I always imagined families talked about around the table. And for just a moment, I would imagine that it would stay that way forever, that I could change into someone else completely—someone who grew up in a house like that one and not the eyesore of the neighborhood. But then I would feel terrible for thinking about myself, especially considering the fact that Cutter got hurt because I was only thinking about myself. In those moments I would whisper, “I’m sorry” and imagine that wherever Cutter was, he could hear me.
Late at night when Zell and John thought I’d gone to sleep, I would tiptoe to the window in their son’s room and stare up at the stars in the sky, wishing on every one of them just for good measure. And every wish I had was for Cutter to be OK. I thought only of him and not me, forcing my brain not to think about the coming school year or the friends I didn’t have or whether I’d ever fit anywhere. I promised whoever made those stars that if Cutter got better, I’d never care about anyone but him for the rest of my life. And, mostly, I believed it was possible.
ZELL
She’d hauled a stool out to the garden to get some weeding done and was awkwardly crouched on it, ripping weeds out down to the roots—an activity she found quite therapeutic—when she heard footsteps approaching. Before this summer, the footsteps would’ve been heavier, those of John plodding out, wondering what was for dinner or asking where was such-and-such, even though he’d lived in that house the last thirty years.
But it wasn’t John. These footsteps were too light to be his, little fairy footsteps. She turned to greet Cailey, whose presence was fast becoming a fixture. John had warned her just last night not to get too attached. She’d turned from him, busying herself with stirring the beans until he gave up and walked away. It was good to have someone to take care of, someone to cook for.
Last night she’d made a big meal, the kind her mama used to make—country-style steak, mashed potatoes and gravy, fresh corn, green beans, and sliced tomatoes. She’d even made biscuits, something she hadn’t done in a coon’s age. Cailey loved her cooking and ate like there was no tomorrow. Zell worried that the child hadn’t been fed properly and made it her mission to get some nourishment in her.
For dessert she’d made real banana pudding, only to learn that Cailey didn’t like bananas. But that was OK because she had some ice cream in the freezer, and John was only too happy to eat the banana pudding himself, though Lord knew he didn’t need it. She glanced down at her own belly, brimming over the top of her waistband, then looked up and gave Cailey a smile. She adjusted her wide-brimmed straw hat so she could see the child better.
“Have a good sleep?” she asked her.
Cailey nodded, chewing her lip and casting her eyes about like she was casing the joint.
“Give me just a minute to finish up here and I’ll make you some breakfast.” Zell turned back to the weeds, wincing as her knee protested the movement. The stool wasn’t really helping. She missed being able to kneel, missed getting her nose and hands fully immersed in the earth.
“I could help you with that . . . if you want,” Cailey offered. She moved closer, coming into Zell’s line of sight.
“Do you know about gardening?” Zell asked, unable to keep the surprise from her voice.
Cailey shrugged. “I helped my teacher at my old school. We were making a wildlife habitat. It was a class project, but . . . I moved away before we finished.” Cailey thought about it for a second. “That was two schools ago.” She shrugged as if it meant nothing, but Zell could see the lie in her pensive little face. She heard John’s warning again about getting attached, his words echoing from the night before. He knew her all too well.
“But you liked it?”
Cailey nodded. “I liked making a place for, you know, the animals and stuff. We planted special plants they could eat and made places for them to hide.” She shrugged again. “It was pretty cool.”
Zell’s voice was tight when she spoke, and she cleared her throat. “I bet you wish you’d seen it all finished.”
Cailey nodded, her eyes focused on the landscaping. She blinked a few times. “Yeah. My mom said we could go back one day, but . . . she never has time.”
“Is the school nearby?” Zell asked.
Cailey thought about it. “I think it’s like an hour away. Maybe.”
“Ah,” said Zell. She thought about her own life with young children, how overwhelming things had seemed then, and she’d been a stay-at-home mom with no outside responsibilities. There were so many things she’d intended to do with them, for them, but the time got away and then it was over. “I’m sure your mom would love to take you sometime.”