Some of the things Mama said during our fight suddenly make more sense, but I’m still furious at her for taking part in Daddy’s lies. We’ll have to have a long talk the next time I see her. I’ll still be going to visit Daddy on Friday, of course, even if I have to keep it from Mama, but we’re both dealing with a lot right now, and I need to handle all of this chaos better if we are going to have even the slightest chance to heal our family again.
I don’t see Mama all day, and although she responds to my texts, my calls go straight to voice mail.
I had clung tight to Jordan the entire way home Monday night. The motorcycle is definitely growing on me. And as much as I’d like to deny it, anything that requires me to get that close to Jordan without any need for excuse or explanation seems like something I could get on board with.
When he dropped me off at my car, Jordan opened my door, but before I could climb in, he pulled me against him for an abrupt, tight hug. He kissed my forehead and whispered, “Everything’s going to work out, Riley. I promise.”
Then he’d climbed onto his black bike and disappeared into the night.
I don’t know how he feels confident enough to make a promise like that, but it helps me even if we know it might be a lie.
We made plans to see each other on Thursday, but I feel pathetic that I miss him already by Wednesday morning. We’ve texted a little, but he’s taking Matthew to visit their abuela today, so I know I won’t hear from him again until tomorrow.
I try not to think more about it as I make myself a bowl of fresh fruit. When my phone rings and the caller ID shows Mr. Masters’s number, I pick up immediately.
“Hello.”
“Hi, Miss Riley.” His slow drawl begins, as always, with the pleasantries. “How are you doing on this beautiful day?”
“I’m okay.” My nerves make me blurt out exactly what is on my mind. “Do you have any updates on the case?”
“No, I’m afraid not.” His voice becomes a bit harsher and I’m instantly on edge. “But there is something I need to speak with you about.”
“Oh … okay. What is it?” I sit down at the table with my fruit bowl but don’t eat anything yet.
“Your mama told me about your visit with your father after the hearing. She told me what he said.” His tone bites at me. My body feels chilled all over.
I sigh, willing him to understand. “Then you also need to know that he said later that it was a lie. He said he’d lost hope and wanted us to be free to move on … that’s all.”
“Hush. No need to get defensive.” He clears his throat and I hear pain in his voice for the first time. “I promise not to give up on him. Not until someone proves to me, without a doubt, that he’s guilty. And if that hasn’t happened in nearly twelve years, I don’t expect it to happen now.”
I release a shaky breath of relief. “Thank you.”
He pauses briefly before continuing. “Don’t thank me yet. I want you to do something for me now.”
“What’s that?” I stir a red grape around in my bowl as I listen.
“Consider not visiting this week.” These words come lightning fast, like he’s not entirely committed to saying them and he needs to get this out now or never.
I don’t answer. I don’t know what to say. I drop my spoon with a clatter and roll my eyes. “What did she do to convince you to take her side?”
Complete silence stretches out on the other end for long enough that I look at my phone to be certain we weren’t disconnected. Then Mr. Masters’s voice cuts through the quiet like a red-hot sword. “She did nothing, young lady. You aren’t the only one struggling at the moment. You know better than to believe that. Luck has bitten your family too many times over the last decade and you need to start sticking together.”
He’s never spoken to me quite like that before and it shocks me. I whisper back quietly, “You’re right. I’m sorry.”
“Very well then,” he replies, much gentler this time. “Sometimes distance gives us perspective. My advice is what it is. Take it or leave it. I’m just working on turning that luck around for all of you.”
“I promise to think about it.” I swallow hard, already knowing that my words are a lie. It isn’t that I don’t trust Mr. Masters to try to do what he says. It’s simply one single word in his plea that made up my mind for me—the word luck. Daddy has never had luck go his way.
Chance is not our friend. And karma is our enemy.
I hate all the terms people use to explain some hidden force in the universe that’s intended to balance the scales in favor of the good or the righteous. According to everything we’ve been given so far, our family doesn’t deserve any balance. We don’t deserve any help.
So screw all of them. Screw chance, fate, karma, luck, providence, and everything in between. With only fifteen days left, I’m certainly not waiting around for them to show up now.
“Actually, instead of me not going”—I talk faster, as it sounds like he’s getting ready to end the call—“what if we went together?”
His end of the line is silent for a few seconds before he responds, but I can hear the curiosity in his voice. “What exactly do you have in mind?”