Take It to the Grave Part 4 of 6
Author
Zoe Carter
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16.2K
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4
Maisey
I ran faster, harder, the impact of my feet on the hard-packed sand jarring my knees, my hips, but I ignored it, slamming my feet into the surface. I’d stood there, in Sarah’s room, cradling the limp, unresponsive body of my baby half brother.
“I think I’ve killed the baby. You have to save the baby.”
My arms swung at my sides, my legs pumping—faster, faster—and my thighs, my calves, each muscle group burned. I remembered the frantic pleading in my voice. I remembered watching my sister take charge.
Sarah quickly checked Frankie’s pulse, in his wrist and then his neck. My sister knelt over the unconscious toddler as I stood anxiously just inside the doorway, and she pinched Frankie’s nose, breathing into his mouth. Sarah finally looked up. “I’ll sort it, Maisey. Don’t worry. It will look like an accident. You’re not in trouble, though, okay? Go back downstairs, and pretend to be asleep.”
Relief made my legs shake, and I nodded.
My cheeks are wet now, and my legs were mimicking the tremors of that afternoon so long ago as I pushed myself to the limit, sprinting along the beach.
I walked quietly out to the backyard, and lay down on the chaise longue, not too far away from Alice. I leaned back, closing my eyes, the sun beating down on my face, my chest, my legs, those cicadas still buzzing in the background. The normal sounds of a summer day, yet so grating. I heard the back door open, heard my sister walk, ever so quietly, down the path. I held my breath, my lips curling inward, my eyes itching, as I heard her step into the pool area. Then I listened as Sarah crept back up to the house, and then I jolted at the bloodcurdling scream. I sat up and whirled around as Sarah flew out of the house, the sounds from her voice so alien, so unfamiliar.
“Frankie, oh, my God, Frankie!”
My blood turned to ice in my veins as Sarah kept screaming.
And then I heard our next-door neighbors’ screen door slam open.
I lurched, bending over as my stomach heaved, and I vomited on the beach, the hot tears streaming down my face.
I told you not to look. Lucy’s voice was angry, harsh.
How could you keep this from me? I wailed in my mind, the sound echoing against the walls of my skull. I took a couple of steps, then fell to my knees, my stomach still twisting, although there was nothing left to bring up.
That’s my job, Maisey. To protect you.
I braced my hands on the sand, clenching my fingers and making little furrows, gasping for breath. Cold sweat broke out on my brow, and my chest rose and fell as I tried to catch my breath. I shook my head.
Not this. I killed my brother! The realization was like a knife to my gut, a bullet to my brain. Cold. Hot. Pain. Remorse. I was bombarded from all directions. How could I do that?
How could you not? Lucy queried.
I coughed, still feeling the burn of stomach acid in my throat, and I blinked. Darkness was edging my consciousness. Lucy was stepping in.
Oh, God. Not again.
“Maisey? Hey, are you all right?”
Lucy froze. I wiped the back of my hand across my mouth, and blinked, then hastily brushed the tears off my cheeks before turning to look up at Caleb. God, how humiliating. He glanced up and down the beach.
“I was out for a walk when I saw you here on the beach,” he informed me. His momentary distraction gave me enough time to take a deep breath and try and regain some of my composure. I hadn’t expected to see him here. Hadn’t expected to see anyone here, or anyone to see me feed the fish with a very inelegant puke session. God, I needed Lucy. S.T.A.T. Sitting here on my weak and shaky knees, next to a puddle of bile... What would Lucy do? I squeezed my eyes closed for a moment, and let Lucy step in.
I tilted my head back, and Lucy chuckled with just the right amount of regret and derision. “It looks like I may have eaten a bad prawn last night. Or oyster.” Sarah and Warwick had put on a seafood feast last night that would have fed that little Thai village. Lucy grimaced good-naturedly, and I rose to my feet, ignoring the tremors and locking my knees to prevent me from falling down again. I brushed my hair back from my sweaty forehead, pushing it behind my ears and bringing it back to a semblance of control.
Caleb smiled with sympathy and passed me a bottle of water. “Oh, thanks,” Lucy responded warmly, and took a swig. I rolled it around in my mouth, trying to swish out any remaining bile, and then I leaned over and spat it out.
“Oh, wow, that’s so classy. Sorry, I probably look like shit.” Lucy chuckled, low and throaty.
Caleb shook his head. “Nah, Maisey, you look great—as always.”
Unbidden, a secret, adolescent thrill coursed through me, and Lucy laughed, head back, eyes sparkling and flirty. Despite the horror of my memories, despite the sickness I felt inside, I was able to brush that aside, with Lucy’s help, and surrender to this interlude with Caleb, my life preserver, the salvation of my sanity.
We walked in silence for a moment, our shoes making that soft squeaky sound on the wet sand. Calm washed over me, a soothing balm to my terror of a moment ago, and I let the rise and breach of the waves, the gentle breeze curling around us, the soft colors of a stunning sunrise, soothe my heart, my soul, my mind, and I let the seed of contentment flourish in me. Lucy stepped back. Leaving me with Caleb.
Caleb shoved his hands in the pockets of his shorts. “I miss you guys, you know?” His voice was low, husky. “Life just wasn’t the same after I left. The army—the army was so different,” he commented, and gave a chuckle, but his smile held a tinge of regret. “I really wish I hadn’t lost touch with you and Sarah.”
I nodded. “We missed you, too. When you were home...” I paused, then took a deep breath. “When you were home, those times were so good. I only have the fondest memories. It was special,” I admitted. “My favorite memories, really.” I smiled, although it felt a little wobbly, so I had to call on Lucy for help to keep me strong.
Don’t let me lose it.
Don’t worry. I’ve got you.
I still wanted to talk with Caleb, though, still wanted to be as real as I could allow myself to be, with anyone. Caleb knew me. Trust, unfamiliar, nearly forgotten, unfurled in me like a flower opening to the warm glow of the sun.
“So, tell me, what are you doing now?” I gestured to his leg.
He grimaced. “I’m slowly getting there. I was commissioned out of the army with this injury, so now I work in IT.”
“Computers?” I asked, impressed. “Wow. Smart guy. What exactly do you do?”
Caleb smiled. “I design and manage a number of websites for clients. Systems integration, that sort of stuff.” He shrugged. “It pays well enough.”
I glanced at the sand. “You bought Mom a house.”
He grinned. “There’s plenty of room if you ever want to visit.”
God. Lucy and I were both warring over feeling excited by the invitation, or horrified.
“Seriously, think about it. Do you have to rush off after Elliot’s christening? Why don’t you come visit for a while?” He leaned forward. “I promise to run interference between you and your mom if you need it.”
I hesitated.
Don’t do it, Lucy warned.
But it’s Caleb.
And your mother.
But it’s Caleb, I repeated. He knows me. And he’s dangling this carrot of a homecoming in front of me. My memories of Caleb are all positive. The one guy I could be completely honest with.
“When Mom went to prison, and you finished school and moved back home...” I shook my head. Okay, so maybe I wasn’t completely ready to trust him with what was going on inside my head. It was hard to do that, to let someone in after all these years of closing everyone out.
How do you think he’d feel about me?
Shut up, Lucy.
Or about what you did to Frankie.
I shook my head, then saw Caleb was watching me curiously. I ignored Lucy’s muttering in the background, and focused on Caleb. “It meant so much, being able to talk to you, to know there was someone there who had my back. You have no idea how important that was,” I said quietly.
What am I, chopped liver? I shook my head, pushing Lucy to the back of my mind.
“You know, it was the simple things that made such a huge difference.”
Caleb grimaced in self-derision. “I didn’t think I did that much.”
I chuckled. “Hey, you have no idea. Do you remember when we used to go to the movies, or the beach?” Like normal kids. It had been such a beautiful little escape, going out on these little excursions that got us out of the house and surrounded by people, as though it was a natural, regular thing to do.
Lucy’s smile’s broadened. “Oh, my God, I had the biggest crush on you.” Lucy giggled, a sound that so successfully melded self-deprecation and coquettishness that even I was impressed. Only Lucy had the courage to admit to something so deeply personal without embarrassment.
“What?” Caleb wrinkled his face in amused disbelief. “You had a crush on me?”
How could he not know that? How could he not see what a fantastic guy he was, how special? How I had trotted around after him, stars in my eyes.
“Of course, but I thought I was too young for you,” Lucy joked. I didn’t think that, but I told myself that’s the reason Sarah caught his attention, and not me. It made his oblivious rejection just a tinge more bearable. “I always hoped you and Sarah would marry actually.” I looked up at him from beneath my eyelashes, to catch his reaction. Did he still love my sister? Did he still pine for her?
Lucy kept the smile on my face, but it was hard, admitting that, thinking about that. Alice had been in prison, Frankie was dead and Caleb and Sarah were the only people I could really connect with—and they’d only had eyes for each other. We would go out to watch the latest movie at the local cinema, and I’d talk about the movie, but then catch them staring at each other, as though a wealth of meaning was being exchanged right under my nose, and I was clueless to it. Excluded. More and more, I began to feel like the third wheel, the hanger-on, the one who had to be tolerated when they’d actually prefer to be alone with each other. The one who didn’t matter. Fortunately, Lucy was there to make me feel less lonely.
Damn straight.
Shut up. You hid Frankie from me.
For your own good, Maisey.
I still couldn’t believe it. How could I hide something like this from me?
I’d so wanted to talk to my sister about what had happened to Frankie—and the fact that Alice was put away for it. God, there was so much confusion, so much guilt, and nowhere and nobody to talk to about it, to unload...to just unpack it and sort it out and make some sense from it. Lucy tried to, admittedly, but it always felt disjointed, like building a jigsaw puzzle only to find you were missing some critical pieces that would help form the full picture. Every time I tried to snatch a moment with Sarah to talk about it, she’d shut me down. “Put it behind you.” “Put it in the past.” “For God’s sake, don’t worry about it, Maisey, and just have fun.”
I used to wonder what was wrong with me; if Sarah could do it so easily, why couldn’t I? It was easier when we were all together, and we had something to do, but when Sarah and Caleb went off together and I was alone, well, that was the hardest time. Being alone with my thoughts and nothing to distract me. My conscience was a bitch to me, and it was difficult to hide from the self-righteous whinger. I couldn’t even talk to Alice. Peter rarely organized a prison visit. I didn’t have my mom around. I certainly wasn’t the apple of Peter’s eye. I remember wishing that Alice could be like a normal mom. I used to fantasize about her holding her arms out to me, embracing me, hushing my tears and soothing my fears... Yet she was now unreachable. I remember wishing I could bring Frankie back, along with every torment that came with him, just so I could have my mom back, too.
“You wanted me and Sarah to get married? Oh, that would have been terrible.” Caleb laughed, and Lucy was grateful for the distraction he provided, and for the fact that he thought marrying my sister would have been terrible.
He waved his hand as he shook his head. “Oh, no, no, no. We were great together as kids, sure, but...” He pointed to the majestic residence that was now plainly visible against the lightening sky. “There is no way I could give her that.” Caleb shrugged. “That’s not my thing, you know? I want something...different. Something a little more genuine. A home, not a house. Friends, not guests.”
“Yeah, I get what you mean,” I said, feeling just the slightest bit naughty, as though it was a betrayal of my sister to talk like this behind her back—but it felt wonderful to find a sympathizer, a person with a similar view of the extreme, almost pretentious display of wealth we were now surrounded by. It was like peeking through a window with a friend and sharing a giggle at the ridiculous decor and lifestyle within. Conspirators sharing a secret, that’s what we were; and I didn’t realize how long I’d gone without that kind of connection.
No matter how brief or shallow it seemed, it was real enough for now.
Again, I’m right here.
Shut. Up.
“Oh, hey, do you remember that time Sarah and I snuck in to watch you in that school play?”
“Oh, God, do I ever,” I said, covering my face briefly to hide my embarrassment. Of course I remembered that play. Some well-meaning teacher had steamrolled me into it. It was my most awkward, painful stage. Alice was in prison, everyone knew what had happened to Frankie, that my mother was locked away for it. I became that freak, the one with a mom behind bars, the one whose brother had drowned in the backyard pool. At the time, I couldn’t really discuss it with anyone, and it was probably the one thing I wanted most to talk about, so wasn’t really interested in talking about anything else. Watching some TV program, or picking out the hottest jock on the field, all seemed kind of juvenile in comparison to the heavy crapstorm in my head. I became one of those loners in the cafeteria, head down, pushing around the apple wedge that was slowly turning brown... Thank God for Lucy. She kept me company.
It’s nice to be appreciated.
My teachers had begun to notice. They couldn’t really do anything, though. I mean, I spent most of my time studying, doing homework—my grades weren’t slipping, I wasn’t skipping homework. There was nothing to actually show that I had a problem. At least, that’s what Peter said at the teacher-parent interviews when the staff at the school raised it with him. As far as he was concerned, there was no problem.
“Mrs. Jeffries made me do it.” Lucy chuckled again.
“Uh-huh. Come on, I remember you used to be quite the little actress, always putting on these shows for Sarah and me...”
“That was just for you two. But Mrs. Jeffries twisted my arm.” At that point, it had sounded so tempting, especially when an adult was actually praising me and complimenting me about my acting. I found my own little escape in that play.
I walked on that stage, and suddenly I was someone else. I wasn’t Maisey, that girl whose mom was in prison. I was whatever I needed to be to make people laugh, or cry, cheer, gasp. In that first play I was Lucy from Peanuts, and being gently bullied into participating in that performance had been a blessing in disguise. We loved the experience so much, we decided to keep the name.
I had an opportunity to get out of my skin, but more than that, I was doing something separate from the family that went completely under my stepfather’s radar. Extra credit. Please. It had been so damn satisfying, so triumphant, to step into the spotlight, and the man who ruled my life was completely oblivious to it. Just like Sarah’s friendship with Caleb...it was our way to hold on to some power, to have some independence that Peter couldn’t strip from us because he had no idea we’d been so daring. He underestimated us, there.
“I still can’t believe Dad didn’t find out.” Caleb chuckled. “Do you remember that one night when Sarah and I were sneaking out to go to a movie, and the drainpipe pulled away from the house when we tried to shimmy down it?”
Lucy laughed on cue, although inside I withered a little bit. Yeah. I remember Sarah and Caleb trying to sneak out and leave me behind. Was it supposed to have been a date? Whether it had or it hadn’t, I remembered the sharp pain piercing my lonely little heart that they had excluded me, once again.
Caleb’s laughter died, and the amusement left his eyes. It was so sudden it took me a moment to recognize its absence. He cleared his throat as he turned to face the direction we were walking in. “Well, that was a long time ago, I guess.”
My mouth quirked. I guess I wasn’t the only one to mourn those brief, treasured, carefree moments of our youth.
“You should come visit,” he said quietly. “Your mom—I think it would do her good.”
Lucy arched an eyebrow. “Do you think she’d notice I was there?”
Caleb frowned. “It could help her.” He sighed. “Look, I know she says some crazy shit sometimes, but...that’s not her. It’s the drink. Having you there, well, it could straighten her up a little.”
I doubt it, Lucy muttered.
I agreed with Lucy. Sometimes it was hard to remember what my mother was like, before the drinking. So much had happened.
“I don’t know,” I prevaricated.
“Don’t decide now. Give it some thought.”
I nodded, reluctant to give myself the responsibility of my mother’s salvation.
We’re not doing it, Lucy stated baldly. Nuh-uh.
Shush. There’s no harm in thinking about it.
I’m not letting you deal with that woman. She screwed up royally the first time.
Let’s just think about it. We won’t be alone. Caleb will be there.
For once, Lucy went quiet.
We walked in silence some more, and my legs were trembling with the effort of plowing over a sand hill. Caleb looked lost in thought, or maybe he was reminiscing. Those fun times together were far too rare, and I’d wished there were more of those memories, that we’d had more opportunities to create those light moments to counteract the dark.
I remembered when the final, all-consuming dark arrived. Sarah had woken me up in the middle of the night, sobbing as if someone had died. Not Frankie, though. She didn’t sob like that when Frankie had died. I remembered my alarm at her tears; it was so unusual, so weird to see Sarah display that kind of emotion. She was always the one to whisper to me that everything was okay when I wanted to blubber. She was always the strong one. It had startled me, and I must admit, a fear had been born in me that day, that my sister could react in a way that I’d only ever seen in Alice.
“What’s wrong?” I whispered, trying to channel a little of Sarah in my tone, a little comfort, a little calm, when quite frankly she was freaking the crap out of me. I sat up in my bed, and she sat beside me, sobbing ever so quietly.
“Caleb’s gone,” my sister wailed softly.
My eyes widened. “Gone? What do you mean, he’s gone?” Did she mean he’d tried to shimmy down the drainpipe without her this time? Is that why she was upset? Perhaps then she might have a clue to how I felt, the night they broke the guttering.
“He just left,” Sarah whispered, her cheeks shiny in the moonlight streaming in through my window. She leaned over to rest her head on my shoulder, and I hugged her, patting her hair in a clumsy effort to soothe her.
I frowned. “When is he coming back?” I tried to keep the panic out of my voice. Caleb couldn’t leave. We were a family. He was part of our secret little clique, not only a co-conspirator, but a much needed support, and the buffer between his father and us. If he left—I swallowed, not wanting to think about what would happen, how things could go back to the way they were before Caleb had moved in with us, or how it could possibly be worse. Caleb was our safety zone. I didn’t want Caleb to leave.
“Where is he? I’ll go talk to him,” I said, and went to push the covers off.
Sarah shook her head, her shoulders shaking in grief. “No, he’s already gone.”
I blinked, stunned. “But...why?” I whispered. Why would he leave? Why would he abandon us? I thought we were good, solid. How could Caleb just...leave? Lucy woke up, listening intently.
“He doesn’t love me,” Sarah whispered, and the heartbreak, the loss, the anguish, in her voice gave me the chills.
“Of course he does,” I said automatically. Because the alternative, that Caleb didn’t love us, was unbearable. That fear started to grow inside me, pulling my insides out, and I let Lucy to take over. I don’t think there was anything I could have done to stop her. “We’ll sort this out. Don’t worry, Sarah, we’ll fix this.”
My sister sniffled, then wiped her nose with her sleeve. “There’s nothing left to fix. He doesn’t love me. He doesn’t love me.” Sarah kept repeating that phrase, over and over.
“It’s going to be okay,” Lucy whispered, but inside, I knew Lucy was full of shit. I had never seen my sister like this. Not when my mother was beaten unconscious. Not when Peter broke Alice’s arm that time. Not even when Frankie had died, and the police had handcuffed our mother and settled her into the backseat of the cop car. No, this was something new, something disturbing.
My sister’s spirit had been broken. She’d been shattered, fragmented into these sharp little pieces that would never quite go back together again. I could feel her shaking in my arms, feel her sorrow, her sadness. It smothered us like Peter’s hand over my mother’s mouth. Whatever had happened between her and Caleb, I knew. I had lost the sister I knew.
First Dad. Then Alice. Okay, let’s not forget Frankie...and now Sarah. Under any other circumstances, Sarah would be comforting me at the departure of Caleb, as she had so many times before when he’d had to return to his mother’s home as the school break had drawn to a close. But no. That loving, caring, generous and protective side of my sister had been broken. Everything had changed. All those people whom I looked to for love, protection and support were dead or damaged beyond repair. Lucy kept patting Sarah’s hair, and I stared up at the ceiling. I was on my own, and I had to learn to fend for myself. Well, if everyone died, so would I. I let Lucy take over.
A few hours later I slid out of bed, trying not to wake Sarah, her face still mottled from her tears. I was busting to use the toilet, and I tiptoed over to my bedroom door. I opened the door quietly, making sure I put my foot down close to the jamb to avoid the creak in the floorboard beneath the carpet, and that’s when I saw it.
A piece of paper, neatly folded, with my name handwritten in Caleb’s familiar sprawl. For a brief moment, Lucy stepped back, and excitement swept through me, bringing a slight, secretive curl to my lips as I bent down to pick it up. I scurried to the bathroom, locking the door, and then hastily unfolded the note.
I will miss you, Maisey.
Caleb
I must have blacked out for a bit. I don’t remember the rest of the night, so I must have fallen asleep. I was calmer when I woke in the morning. I clutched the note to my chest and closed my eyes. Keen sadness at his departure warred with gratitude and love at this little gesture. And frustration. Frustration that the guy I loved had left. I swear, if Caleb had been mine, this wouldn’t have happened. Just look at the note. He cared for me, really cared for me. If we were the close ones instead of Sarah and him, Caleb would never have left. I was sure of it. I wouldn’t have let him leave. I wouldn’t have dissolved into tears; I would have fought for him, I would have talked with him, listened to him, cherished him like he needed to be cherished. Instead I cherished that note, that little sign that showed me that for whatever reason he was leaving, whatever had caused him to walk out in the middle of the night, that I had been on his mind. I had carried that note around the world with me ever since.
Peter was livid when he awoke the next morning to learn his son had left in the middle of the night. I was in the living room when he’d made this discovery, and my eyes darted to Sarah as our stepfather stormed into the living room. I wanted to hide, but Lucy said it would be all right, so I stayed. He grabbed Sarah by the shoulders and shook her so hard, her head had jerked with the movement. He pulled her close then, snarling in her face.
“If I find this is your fault, I will make you pay.”
Sarah gazed up at him so calmly, so serenely. I braced myself in the corner, cowering and hoping he wouldn’t come after me next, but I may as well have not existed, because his full focus was on my sister.
And she just stared at up him. She wasn’t trying to hide, like me. She wasn’t cowering; she was just cool, composed, like the placid surface of a lake. Seeing that unshaken equilibrium in the face of Peter’s rage, and despite my frustration and anger with my sister for letting Caleb go, I had to hand it to her, she reacted brilliantly. My respect for her grew—from my hiding spot in the corner. Her lack of reaction frustrated my stepfather. Peter stormed out of the house, swearing, and flung himself into his car and drove off.
I watched as Caleb’s stride matched mine, and we walked in unison up the path to the house. Unlike half an hour ago, my steps were moderate, and not the frenzied, frantic pace I’d been running. My heart rate had nearly slowed to normal, and I was no longer sick with anxiety, guilt or any other negative emotion. Caleb always had that effect on me. It was like he was an anchor in my storm, the eye in every cyclone...he was the beacon that led me back to those warm, safe, beautiful memories of my childhood that were so bright and joyous in a forest of darkness.
“So, tell me, Caleb, what was it like in the army? How long were you in for?” Lucy asked him, staring up in that wide-eyed, curious way that always had a man responding. I listened as he talked about boot camp, and then where he’d been deployed. I know Lucy was flirting with him, but I drank his conversation in, eager to hear about his experiences, his time away from me. I tried to tell myself that I was slipping into that familiar habit of hanging on to his every word, of inserting myself into his “now,” to try and make up for our lost time. The adoration and love was like an old, cozy pair of yoga pants—easy to slide into, conforming to your shape, comfortable to wear.
There was a tiny part, though, one that I wanted to ignore, because it wasn’t big of me, I’ll admit it. It was small, it was petty, but it was instinctive. Right here, right now, I had something that Sarah couldn’t. She was married, and had created a home for herself with Warwick. She couldn’t have Caleb, too.
For once, I felt successful, and yes, it shamed me that it was at my sister’s expense, but hell, with my life the way it was, it was probably the only success I could ever expect. For so long, I had drifted around Sarah’s orbit. She was always the one in control, the strong one, the one who could pull the strings and have people react and perform the way she wanted. It had always been Sarah and Caleb, and then maybe me off to the side.
Now, though, after seeing past the twenty-four-carat facade of her life, after hearing the whispered arguments, seeing the interaction between her and the rest of her acquired family, I thought that perhaps my sister wasn’t quite in control any longer. But here, right now, with Caleb at my side instead of Sarah’s, I felt like the one in control. This time, my sister could dance on the end of my strings.
“And what about you, Maisey? Alice mentioned you’re with Nurses Without Borders. Is it as exciting as it sounds?”
I laughed. “Not quite. I am a nurse, and lately I’ve been helping to set up clinics or orphanages...” I often got a little embarrassed explaining my job, although I wasn’t quite sure why. It was a noble profession, nursing, and I was proud of it, and of the work I did.
“Really? So when you’re not off saving the world, one remote medical clinic or orphanage at a time, and you’re not swanning it with the socially elite, where do you go? Where is home for you? I know it’s not with Alice.”
I shook my head, and tried not to shudder. No, my home was not with Alice. It hadn’t been since the day Frankie died and she was taken away in a squad car.
“I don’t really have a fixed address—apart from my email,” I joked. “I’ve been so busy I’ve just pretty much moved from project to project. This is the first time I’ve been back to the States in years. Nurses Without Borders usually has a job lined up for me at a site before the current one concludes, and I just move.”
“Well, I can relate to that. When I was in the army I moved five times in two years. Just packed up and headed out to wherever they needed me.”
We glanced at each other, and I think we were both surprised to see the similarity in our lives, but also to realize we shared an understanding that few could match.
After a moment, Caleb cleared his throat. “And you like the work?” he asked, looking down at me intently.
I nodded. “Yeah, I do.” I glanced down at the sand, shifting beneath our feet, and then the paved path appeared. Stability so close to volatility. A symbol of my life, really. “There is something about helping people,” I told him quietly, sincerely, and noticed that Lucy was also quiet now. “I love knowing that I’m doing something productive, but it’s more than that. I’m saving people’s lives. It’s humbling, and yet so uplifting, knowing that I can have such a profound impact on others’ lives. It’s addictive.” My lips twisted. And I would keep doing that work for as long as I could. For once, I was completely honest. This was more than a job for me. It was a vocation. My life’s mission, if you will. Help as many, save as many, as I could.
Caleb threw his arm around my shoulders, and dragged me to his side. “God, it’s so good to see you again, Maisey. I’ve missed this, so much.”
It took me a moment to process, so stunned was I at this admission, and then I relaxed against him, trying to lower my natural resistance.
It was a new kind of feeling, this closeness, and it took me a while to get past the surprise, the enjoyment.
Apart from that night Caleb had left, I couldn’t actually remember feeling this type of comfortable, loving touch of a family member since Alice went to prison.
I was surprised by how lovely it felt, so warm, so generous, so tender. I hoped I could get used to it.
