“And my mother?”
Aunt Elizabeth pressed her lips together, face pale. “I came back for her after Mama died, hoping she’d come with me. She insisted Daddy needed her. He hadn’t been well. I could see he wasn’t. Maybe he was sorry for the way he treated our mother. Maybe he was looking hell in the face. I don’t know. I didn’t care.” She rested her head against the back of the chair. “I went to see her as often as I could. Leanne would call, and we’d talk. Dad didn’t make her life easy. Everything that ever went wrong in his life was always someone else’s fault.” She gave Grace a sad smile. “Your mother was a good caregiver.” The curve of her mouth turned bitter. “As for me, I stood over him once, near the end, and said if it was up to me, I’d leave him in his chair and let him rot in his own feces.”
A cold chill prickled Grace’s skin.
Aunt Elizabeth’s expression wavered between shame and guilt, anger and regret. “Leanne became like our mother. I became like Dad.” She looked at Grace, her eyes growing moist. “I just didn’t use my fists.”
Grace moved to the sofa and sat on the edge so she could take her aunt’s hand. “I love you, Aunt Elizabeth.”
“I know you do. God knows why. You are like your mother. She could forgive anything.” She turned slightly, her hands around Grace’s, holding on firmly, expression intent. “We need to talk about your parents. What do you remember about that night?”
“I didn’t see anything that happened. Mom said we were going to play hide-and-seek. I heard Mom talking fast. Daddy shouted at her. Something crashed, and I heard Daddy sobbing and saying, ‘Leanne’ over and over. Then I heard him coming. I thought he was looking for me, so I didn’t dare move. He opened the closet door and threw boxes off the high shelf and then found a gun. He saw me then. He pushed the clothes aside and stared at me. He didn’t say a word. He closed the closet door. I just huddled there, waiting in the dark. And then . . . I heard the shot.”
She shook her head, remembering bits and pieces of that awful night.
“Everything was confusion after that. I was too scared to move. I heard a loud crash and men’s voices. The lights came on and a policeman found me. I ended up with the nice couple who kept me a few days.” When Grace had first met the Garcias, she’d thought of that kindly couple. “And then you came.”
Aunt Elizabeth’s hands loosened. “I’m so sorry all that happened to you, Grace. I didn’t make things any easier by talking about your father the way I did. Life was hard enough on you without having me play jury and judge. Whatever happened that night caused your father to take his own life. He could have taken yours as well, but he didn’t.”
Grace felt the tears coming and held them back.
Aunt Elizabeth lifted a hand and tucked a curl behind Grace’s ear. A nervous gesture. “Brad and Leanne loved each other, maybe too much, maybe in the wrong way. Relationships don’t always make sense. What happened was a tragedy. But when God offered me a gift, instead of receiving you in gratitude, I held on to my anger. I’m an architect when it comes to building walls. The only person I’ve ever allowed close is Miranda Spenser.” Her mouth tipped in a wry smile. “She came from the same kind of background, but didn’t allow it to embitter her.” Aunt Elizabeth patted her hand. “I tried to give you to her once, as though you were an unwanted puppy someone dumped on my doorstep.”
Grace wasn’t surprised. “When?”
“The day after I brought you home with me. Miranda said no, of course. She said I needed you.” Her eyes glistened with tears. “I was so angry. She and Andrew have always wanted children. I couldn’t understand why she wouldn’t take you. But she was right. I just didn’t learn fast enough. Life would’ve been so much better for you and me if I had let down my guard.”
“You are now.”
Aunt Elizabeth gave a bleak laugh. “High time, don’t you think?” Her voice thickened with emotion. She looked tired, but also relieved. She ran her hands over her lap. “I know you came to talk about other things, but can we wait until morning? I’m exhausted.”
When they both stood, Grace stepped forward and embraced her. Her aunt’s arms came around Grace, and they held on tightly to each other for a moment. Aunt Elizabeth withdrew, letting out a soft breath. “I hope you plan to spend a few days.”
“Three at least.”
“Thank you.” Aunt Elizabeth cupped Grace’s cheek. “You’ve always been a sweet girl, just like your mom.”
Roman had been sitting in Brian’s living room for hours. They’d talked about many things, but eventually Brian got Roman talking about life as a tagger in the Tenderloin.
“I had a crew. There were always guys who wanted to come along for the kicks. Some watched; some helped with the ropes. I had one dude, Lardo, strong as a linebacker, who got me up and onto a roof before the cops spotted me.” He felt the push inside to go deeper, pull up the pain by the roots. He finished his soda and crushed the can in one hand. He didn’t want to think about Lardo or what had happened to him.
Agitated, he stood, mangled can in his hand. He didn’t have to tell Brian everything. “Where should I throw this?”
“Recycling is under the kitchen sink.” Brian didn’t press.
Roman threw away the can and came back. He looked at Brian, measuring his expression. Brian looked back at him. Roman sat. “I always picked heaven spots.”
“Heaven spots?”
“High buildings, structures—the higher, the better.”
“Sounds dangerous.”
“That’s the point. The bigger the risk, the more street cred. I did one piece on the Bay Bridge. Almost ended up in the bay. I hit a couple of five-story buildings. No problems. And then I picked an overpass, made the stencils, had my gear, and posted my crew. High risk of being seen, so I had two spotters. Then White Boy showed up. I wasn’t as close to him. He was a tagalong. Couldn’t shake him.” He shook his head. “I didn’t need or want his help, someone who couldn’t do any better than bubble letters, but down he came on his own setup.”
Emotion gripped him, and he rubbed his face before looking at Brian again. “White Boy didn’t know the difference between dynamic and static ropes from the junk he stole out of a hardware store. He had a can and was coming down to spray. I told him I’d kill him if he did.” He heard the faint echo of White Boy’s laughter. You gotta reach me first. “I had an empty can and threw it at him. He dodged. That’s all it took. His rope slipped. He lost hold.” Roman’s eyes burned. He swallowed convulsively before he spoke. “He fell.”
“You think it was your fault.”
“I don’t know, but I felt responsible.”
Roman still dreamed about the broken body in a spreading pool of red. A car caught White Boy’s body in the headlights. The driver slammed on the brakes, but went over White Boy before the vehicle came to a screeching, spinning halt. Other cars stopped, people getting out to stare at the dead boy shattered on the pavement. No one looked up to see the other one in the black hoodie. Bobby Ray Dean climbed fast, rolled over the wall above, kicked out of the harness. Lardo and the others scattered. Bobby Ray ran until he couldn’t run anymore, then slid down against a wall and sobbed.
“I have nightmares sometimes. I hear him screaming on the way down. I see when he hit.” Roman felt hot tears welling. Was White Boy one of those lost souls in hell now? “I never used a crew again. I always worked alone. And I went higher and did bigger pieces.”