Sojourner (13 page)

“Both, not that it really matters.”  Without waiting for him, I dump my tray and head to my locker.  Part of me expects Lev will follow, but he doesn’t.  Instead the hall fills with other students.  He lingers in the cafeteria.

“Did you have a good lunch?” 

I whirl to find Griffin there, leaning against the door.

“Yeah, it was all right,” I mutter.  I open my locker, and my English book tumbles out.  Just the one I needed for the next class.

“If you’d been with me, it would have been amazing.”

“It’s cafeteria food, Griffin.  How amazing could it be?”

“So go to dinner with me.”  His smile is soft.  “All I’m asking for is a chance, Lizzie.  Please?”

“I dunno.  And right now I have to get to class.”  I close my locker and lock it before starting down the hall.

“Just think about it.”  He starts to walk away then pauses as though he’s mulling something over.  Then he looks back at me.  “Not everybody is what they seem.”

Unsure what to make of that last comment, I watch him walk down the hall.  Then I start toward class, not expecting Lev to suddenly appear in my path, and judging from the dark expression on his face, I can tell he’s heard at least part of my exchange with Griffin.

“I thought you were going to stay away from him.”  He crosses his arms over his chest.

“We attend the same school, Lev.  How far away do you think I can get?”  I try to walk past him to no avail.  My fingers clench my books and I wish I were taller so I didn’t have to look up to him.

“Elizabeth, I care about you.  Maybe I can’t give you the answers you want, but hanging around Griffin won’t get them either.”  His blue eyes are warm and soft.

It takes everything I’ve got not to fall apart.  I really believe he has the answers.  If he doesn’t, I really don’t want to know what that means.

Chapter Eight

Saturday spills into my room at the edges of the curtains as I slip into the waking world.  I sit up and stretch, trying to remember whether any nightmares had come to me last night, but it feels as though a black veil has fallen in my mind, and I can’t pull it aside, so I content myself with the idea that I must not have dreamed.

From downstairs, I hear the drone of voices.  At first I think the television is on, but the longer I listen, the more I recognize Jimmie’s voice.  I try to make out the words and whom he’s speaking to but I can’t, and so I go to the window and peer out, hoping I’ll recognize the vehicle.

It’s a police car.

My stomach gives a nervous jump, and I head to the closet, grabbing the first sweater and jeans I find then I slink downstairs, hoping to catch at least the tail end of the conversation, but Jimmie stands at the front door where he has just seen a police officer out.

“What’s going on?”

“What do you mean?”  He rakes his fingers through his hair and looks away.

“Why were the cops here?”

“No reason.”  He walks toward me and takes my arm, guiding me toward the kitchen.  “How about some breakfast?  I’m starved.”  He looks straight ahead, never at me, one way I can tell he’s lying.

“Tell me.”  I plant my feet and pull away.

For a moment his gaze locks with mine, and behind the tough exterior, I see a panic rising, which means whatever has happened has to do with me.  Jimmy rarely panics about anything else.

“Somebody grafittied the garage door,” he admits.  As I start to go outside to see, he grabs at my arm.  “Stay in the house.  I’ll paint it this afternoon.”

“I want to see.”

“You’re not going out there.  Period.”  He walks to the front door to peer out where the cop is taking pictures.

“Why?  It’s about me, isn’t it?”  I stride toward him.  “Jimmie, it’s been this way in lots of places.  I’ve gotten used to it.  I never fit in in either world, and that’s not going to change.”  I grab the doorknob to go outside, but his hand stops me.

“This isn’t just about fitting in, Lizzie.  Just take my word.”  His blue eyes beg, and the solid-as-a-rock Jimmy disappears.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

 “Just let it go!” he snaps, releasing my hand and pacing the room. 

“I can’t.”  I rush to the door and slip outside before Jimmie can stop me.  The cop, who has just put the camera away, looks up, probably expecting Jimmie.

“Hello, Elizabeth.”

“Hi.”  I step up to the garage and see the words “Half Breed” scrawled in red paint across the door in letters two feet tall.  I take a step back, though I’m not really surprised by it.  It’s the same writing, I note, as on the locker mirror, and I cringe.

“Do you have any idea who would do this?”

“No.”  I think about telling him about the locker, but I’m sure that Jimmy has already done that.  He’s never really been one to let me speak for myself.  I know he means well, but sometimes it just makes me crazy.

 I head inside and see Jimmie perched on the edge of the sofa, cigarette in hand.  He’s lost in thought and doesn’t even hear me come in.

“I thought you quit.”  I drop into the recliner.

He grins halfheartedly.  “I did.”  Smoke wafts around him, and his taut posture and somber expression remind me of a pianist in a jazz club.  His bloodshot eyes dart toward me.

“Jimmie, that wasn’t so bad.  It’s probably just a prank like my locker.”

“Maybe.”  He takes a long drag from the cigarette and stubs it out.  “Then again, just before your dad disappeared, someone painted words on his house, too.  “Red trash.”  I never wanted to tell you that because I hoped we’d never come back here.”  He shakes his head.

“It’s just a coincidence.  That was years ago.”  I get up and sit next to him so I can lean against him.

“Maybe.”  He wraps his arm around me.  “I wish we’d never come back here.”

“So it’s easier to believe somebody’s after me?”  Even though I had a hard time making that leap, some part of me believed it.  After the nightmares, I could believe anything.

“I watched the way this town tried to destroy your dad, Lizzie.  Every day.  When just making his daily life difficult didn’t work, the graffiti came.  That didn’t work, either.  And after that, he was gone.  He left, they said, but I never bought it.  I was never able to prove something bad had happened to your dad, but I know something did.”  He closes his eyes, his lips pinched together uncomfortably.  “He’s probably buried somewhere in this town and whoever got him is still here, going about his business as though he’d simply provided a public service.  Now you’re in danger, and there’s nothing I can do about it.”

“You don’t know that.”

He gets up and walks away, heading to his bedroom.  Although he’s stubbed out the cigarette, a faint bloom of smoke still rises from it, and I watch until it fades.  That’s how I feel, like life is just ebbing from me.  Maybe Jimmie’s right.  Maybe somebody is out there who hates me based on my bloodline,  but I’m not going to just hide and duck my head.

Feeling the anger simmering just beneath the surface, I grab my camera, slip on my coat, and drive off before Jimmie can lock me away like Rapunzel. 

Although there is still snow on the ground, the roads are clearing some.  A few years ago, Jimmie told me about this beautiful hiking trail not far from his mom’s house.  There’s a waterfall, which considering the snow and all, should be beautiful this time of year.  Right now I could stand for something to calm me down.  In Dallas, I used to visit the arboretum a lot.  Something about nature tends to put bad stuff in perspective, and this waterfall sounds like my new arboretum. 

Glancing in my rear-view mirror, I check to see if Jimmie is following me.  No cars there, so at the park entrance, I tap my turn signal, and park near the trail head.  Apparently I’m not the only one who’s here, another vehicle, a Porsche, sits in the lot.  Then I realize that the car belongs to Griffin, and for a second I think twice about taking a hike.  But this place doesn’t belong to Griffin, and I’ve had it with people trying to force me out of things.

The image of Lev standing in the hallway yesterday comes to mind.  I keep seeing the way he has his feet planted a couple of feet apart with his arms crossed over his chest, as if to say that nothing gets past him.  It  just irritates me, and if he won’t give me any answers, I don’t really see that his warnings are all that.  I mean, Griffin is an absolute idiot.  Any girl in her right mind can see that.  But a dangerous idiot?  I don’t really believe that.  And I really doubt he had anything to do with the graffiti.  His parents would absolutely kill him, and if the town found out it was Griffin, what would that do for his reputation?

Maybe I won’t even run into him.  After all, I’m just here to take pictures.  That settled, I zip my parka good, put on my gloves, and pull the cap lower over my head so that it rests just above my eyes.  I will say that with the sun shining down, it’s a little warmer than it has been.

Then I start walking, liking the way the snow crunches beneath my feet.  I think perhaps I might be able to tell Griffin’s footprints in the snow, but a few other sets  overlap.  So I focus on the trees flanking the path, their naked branches scrabbling at the bright sky.  I wonder what the trail looks like in spring, when the leaves are unfurling in all their emerald wonder.  The sunlight sparkles atop the snow, reminding me of Lev.  Intrigued, I pick up a handful of snow and stare at it, willing answers to come, yet, all I get is cold palms from wetness seeping into my gloves and snow that begins to melt.  Lev has all the answers and I have only questions.

Frowning, I dump the rest of the snow and continue my trek up toward the falls.  I dust the remaining snow from my gloves before pulling out the camera and taking several pictures.  At the moment, I’m actually glad to be up here; we rarely see this much snow in Dallas, and the raw beauty of the place takes my breath away.  I spot a leaf dusted by snow; the veins embossed amid the powder.  Smiling, I raise the camera and seal the moment.

It takes me a bit to get to the falls because I’m taking lots of pictures of the landscape and the sky and its unusual shade of blue.  Farther on, the trail abruptly shifts, running parallel to the river.  It’s the same one I fell into at the cemetery, except here I can see the water is much deeper.  It churns violently, never still enough to freeze.  More pictures.

My cell phone rings, and I pluck it from my pocket.  Jimmie.  Flipping it open, I can already hear him yelling.  Shaking my head, I say, “Jimmie, I’m fine.  I’m just taking a walk.  I’ll be back.” 

He yells a bit more, telling me I should be more responsible and how dangerous Hauser’s Landing is.  I let him go on until I realize there is no calming him down.  Then I shake my head, all the calm I’ve been working so hard to restore quickly vanishing.

“Jimmie, I am fine.  Give me a little credit, okay.  Nobody’s grabbed me.  I’m not in mortal danger.  I’m not getting anything pierced this time.  I’m not trying to get a tattoo.  I’m just taking a walk to calm down and digest all this crap, and I’ll be home soon.”  I snap the phone shut and count to five.  Then, as the phone starts to ring again and I see Jimmie’s name on it, I switch it to vibrate.  It takes three more attempts before Jimmy stops calling and I can get on with my walk.

Ahead, the water is louder, telling me I’m pretty close to the falls.  Then my phone vibrates again.  Although I suspect it’s Jimmie, I glance at it anyway.  Lev.  For a moment, I think about answering, but then, right now I’m in no mood to deal with his brand of complication.  I just want to take some pictures and calm down.  Besides, there’s nothing he’s willing to tell me that can’t wait.  That I’m pretty sure of.  Shaking my head, I slide the phone in my pocket and ignore it so I can keep moving, fairly certain that anyone I know who wants to call has already done it so I should be good to go.