All Fall Down (28 page)

“I hear the voice, Josiah.”

She heard the shuffle of something against the phone. “What?”

“The voice Papa told us about. I hear it.”

“Sunny, you know that voice isn’t real. Don’t you?”

“It’s real.”

“No,” Josiah said firmly. “There is no small voice that tells us to end our lives. It was something my father made up and John Second perpetuated as a way of controlling you.”

“It’s my own voice, Josiah,” she said, surprised he didn’t know that or couldn’t understand. “And it
is
real, it tells me right from wrong and what I should do, how I should live, what choices I should make. My mother must’ve heard it, and that’s why she sent me and my kids away to my father, to protect us. She could’ve sent us to you, apparently, but she didn’t. So what does that tell you?”

“I told you, I can’t say what your mother wanted or didn’t. All I can tell you is that we all love you.” Josiah paused. “I always have. Please let me see you again.”

Sunny listened as hard as she could, but the voice was too hard to hear with Josiah to drown it out. “I don’t think so.”

Chapter 45

T
he heat had broken, finally. Mostly because of the storm clouds that had been creeping across the sky since morning. They blocked the sun and dropped the temperatures, which had been in the mid-nineties for the past week, into the more reasonable eighties. So far, no rain, but every so often Liesel heard the far-off rumble of thunder that meant it was on its way.

“Kids recover fast.” Becka sipped from a tall glass of iced tea. She hadn’t offered margaritas today, but that was all right. “Thank God.”

Liesel shuddered. “Yeah. Thank God. I was really worried. I’d never seen kids be so sick. Out both ends.”

Becka gave her a sympathetic look. “In the realm of child-related disasters, I can honestly tell you that the very idea of what you went through has my skin crawling. That is a nightmare of epic proportions. Beans in the nose? Jumping off the second-story landing with a blanket used like a superhero cape? Cutting their own bangs? Nothing is as bad as what you went through.”

“That’s not true,” Liesel said quietly, even though she knew her friend was joking. “I can think of lots of worse things that could happen.”

“Of course you can, hon. You’re a mother.”

Chris had said something very much the same on the night of the emergency room visit, but Liesel had the same response for Becka. “No. I’m not.”

“You’re a mother to that girl out there.” Becka pointed.

“Stepmother.”

“So? You think that makes a difference? Her mother’s dead. You’re the only one she has now.” Becka shook her head.

They both watched as Sunny took the hands of all three of her children. Bliss was able to stand now, so long as she held her mama’s and brother’s hands. The four of them circled slowly, the lilting tune of their game wafting up the hill to the deck on the damp breeze. Laughing, all of them except Bliss crouched at the end of the song, and the baby’s laughter rang like bells across the lawn.

Becka sipped her tea with a sigh. “I haven’t played Ring Around the Rosy in ages.”

“I never liked that game. It’s about the black plague, did you know that?” Liesel leaned her elbows on the table and took a grateful breath of cooler air.

“What? No.” Becka pursed her lips. “That’s sick.”

Liesel laughed and glanced at her friend. “Yep. Check Google.”

Becka pulled out her iPhone with a flourish and tapped at the screen. Down the hill, Sunny and the kids had stood up again to start all over. The kids would play that game for round after round, Liesel knew that from experience. But while she usually encouraged them to pick something else after about three times, Sunny seemed to have a lot more patience. Or maybe she just didn’t know many more games.

“I’ll be damned.” Becka shook the phone at her. “Wow. Who knew?”

“Well, I did.”

“Smart-ass.” Becka thumbed her screen to read more. “It makes sense now when you look it up. Ring around the rosy means the rash. The posies were the flowers people carried to mask the stench of rotting bodies—”

“Ew, gross.”

Becka gave Liesel a wicked grin. “You brought it up.”

“Ashes, ashes,” Liesel said. “All fall down. That’s the end of it, when all the people died.”

“Snopes dot com says it’s not true, anyway.”

Liesel shrugged.

“It was only food poisoning,” Becka said. “Or a stomach virus. Kids get them all the time. And you said Sunny cleaned out all the food from under her bed, no complaints.”

“She said she was sorry, over and over and
over.
” Liesel shaded her eyes against a sudden bright spike of sunshine that had pierced the ever-darkening clouds. The children were now playing some other game while Sunny sat on her favorite bench. “Oh, God. Look. She’s talking to that angel again.”

“It’s only a problem if the angel answers her.” Becka swirled the ice in her glass, rattling the cubes.

Liesel didn’t say anything.

“Oh, hon,” Becka said.

“I don’t know anything,” Liesel said hastily. “She was doing so much better. She seemed to have made peace with what happened. Her sessions with Dr. Braddock had been so helpful. Sure, she still had those idiosyncrasies about the diapers, corn syrup. Recycling, my God, you’d think we were single-handedly tearing apart the ozone layer with our bare fists if we tossed a plastic container in the trash instead of recycling.”

“No, that’s only if you use too much Aqua Net.”

Liesel laughed a little. “She’s doing really well at work. They gave her a promotion a couple months ago. She seemed really proud.”

“But?”

Liesel looked again down the hill. Sunny didn’t look like she was saying anything. Or even like she was listening to anything other than her children, who were performing some sort of dance in front of her.

“She’s so apologetic all the damn time. And I feel like it’s because she somehow senses that I’m frustrated. And so’s Christopher.”

“She doesn’t have to be a psychic to get that.” Becka snorted softly. “And you don’t have to beat yourself up over it, either. The poor kid was beaten if she spoke out of turn. I’d be surprised if she didn’t have a lot of hang-ups about screwing up.”

“I don’t want her to feel that way.”

“But she does,” Becka said. “Probably always will.”

“Since the kids were sick, she’s been quieter. A lot quieter. I asked her if something had happened at work, or maybe with the boy who likes her—”

“Yeah, whatever happened with him?”

Liesel shook her head. “I don’t know. They went out a couple times. She used to kind of light up when she talked about him, and now she never mentions him at all. When I asked her about him, she clammed up and got all quiet, wouldn’t tell me anything else. She gets that…look.”

“What look?”

Liesel demonstrated, making her gaze go far away, her face blank. “Happy does it, too. It’s like when they get upset, they go away.”

“Peace doesn’t?”

“Not like that. Maybe she’s too young.” Liesel studied the children as they now ran in a circle around Bliss sitting in the grass, playing tag. Maybe Duck, Duck, Goose. “Too much personality. Whatever it is, I know when she looks like that there’s no use trying to get anything out of her. She’s doing whatever it is that she talked about so much when she got here. Listening with her heart.”

“Maybe she’s doing something else.”

That earned a laugh. “Like what?”

Becka lifted a brow. “I don’t know. What did we do when we were teenagers?”

“She’s not a teenager.” Liesel shrugged. “I don’t think she’s smoking dope or getting drunk or something like that, if that’s what you mean. And even if she was…well. Like I said, she’s not really a child.”

“The way she was brought up, I wouldn’t be surprised if she didn’t go a little wild. Hell, we went wild and we weren’t raised in a cult.”

Liesel laughed again, without much humor. “Honestly, I don’t think she knows how.”

“How to what?”

“Go wild,” Liesel said. “Rebel. I don’t think she knows how. I sort of wish she had, that would’ve made her…normal.”

Becka made a face. “Poor kid. But how are you doing? You know you could’ve called me that day. I’m a hundred million times thankful you didn’t, but you know you could’ve.”

Liesel laughed. “I know. I’m doing…better. Much better. Christopher and I had a long talk. He’s been a lot better about pitching in around here.”

“Funny how that works, when you ask him,” Becka said. “I knew I liked him for a reason.”

Liesel rolled her eyes. “I thought I could do it all myself, like I was the one who said they should stay here, I should be able to take care of the kids.”

“Nobody can do it all by themselves and stay sane.” Becka said this with her usual firmness of conviction. “It sucks you had to nearly break down before he figured it out, but I guess he’s a dude, what can you do.”

“
Pffft.
It’s still a lot of work,” Liesel said. “For a man who’s ironed his own clothes for as long as I’ve known him, you’d think tossing some dirty clothes in the washer, getting them to the dryer
and
folding them after wouldn’t be so much like brain surgery.”

“Oh, but it is,” Becka said with a snort. “And then he wants a trophy after, am I right?”

“Something like that. But it’s been better these past two weeks. He’s even been getting up earlier so I can take a run in the morning before Sunny leaves for work. And he doesn’t leave his phone off anymore, either. If I need him, he answers.”

“That’s good.” Becka nodded. “Really good. I’m glad to hear it.”

“I think things might just be…okay,” Liesel said hesitantly, as though by saying it aloud it might jinx everything.

Overhead, thunder rumbled. The first fat, cold drops of rain spattered down and left dark marks on the light wood of the table. Liesel stood to check on the kids and saw a flash of lightning. Far off, but still close enough for worry.

Sunny was already up and gathering them. Not running across the grass, but herding them purposefully toward the house. Holding Bliss’s hand, she helped the baby—no, she was a toddler now. Helping her walk. Bliss stumbled and fell, but Sunny caught her just as more rain started falling.

“Come on, guys!” Liesel cried. “Get inside!”

Happy and Peace, full of giggles, clambered up onto the deck. Sunny, who’d scooped up a protesting Bliss, joined them a minute later. Just in time, because another flash of lightning lit the sky, followed by a crack of thunder, and all of them ran inside the house just before the clouds opened up all the way and the rain poured down.

Chapter 46

“S
unny, Sunny, Sunshine.”

Sunny looked up from the counter she’d been wiping. “You shouldn’t be here.”

Josiah looked around the empty coffee shop, then back at her. His frown said he was confused, though his gaze was anything but. “I don’t understand. I came to see you.”

“If you’re not going to buy anything to eat or drink, you should go. This is my work, not a social… It’s not for me to just hang out.” She wiped at the counter, but it was so clean already her rag did nothing but squeak against it.

“I came to invite you to spend the weekend with us. You and the children, of course. We’d love to see them again. How old is Happy now? He’ll be five soon.”

“Yes. He’ll go to kindergarten next year. He’s going to start preschool in a few months.” She lifted her chin defiantly, expecting Josiah to scold.

He simply gave her one of those kind, understanding looks. “I’m sure the people you live with feel it’s best for him to go to school.”

“He needs to learn how to interact with other children.” Sunny parroted what Liesel had said, though deep inside her heart and guts she wasn’t as convinced mingling with blemished children would be good for her son. She wanted to believe it the way she’d tried to believe everything else everyone wanted her to accept. Liesel, Chris, Dr. Braddock.

But in her heart…she really didn’t.

“We have other children in our family. Not as many as in Sanctuary, that’s true. But we’re growing. We need you, Sunshine. We miss you.” Josiah leaned across the counter. “I miss you.”

She flushed, thinking again of his touch on her and how it had made her feel. She shouldn’t be ashamed, at least not according to him. But she couldn’t meet his gaze, not even when he reached across the counter and took her hand, rubbed his thumb on the back of it. She thought of the way his mouth had tasted, and pulled away.

“I think you should go.”

“Your place is with us, you know it is.” Josiah sighed.

This time of day was always so busy, yet now there was nobody to save her from him. No customer asking for a muffin, no tables to clean off. Amy and Wendy had gone on a few deliveries, trusting Sunny to stay and mind things here. She couldn’t run away.

She wanted to run away.

He sighed again and let go of her hand. “Tell me that you feel at home there, and I’ll leave you alone. Tell me honestly that you feel like you belong, that you’re not missing something. Tell me you don’t ache for something you don’t have, Sunshine, and I will walk out this door and never bother you again.”

She didn’t say a word, unwilling to speak with a liar’s tongue though she’d done so many times before.

“You can’t, can you?” Josiah spoke quietly, low enough that even if there was someone else in here, the only person who could hear him would be Sunny. “Sunshine. I know. I left my father’s house, remember?”

“You were thrown out.”

Josiah took a step back, for a moment looking grim before nodding. “Yes. You’re right. I was thrown out. Why? Because I didn’t agree with everything my father and my brother were doing. They took the message and…they ruined it. They broke it. They made it something bad.”

Sunny looked him in the eye. “What makes your message any better?”

“At least I have one,” Josiah said. “What do the blemished have except greed? They damage their vessels and spend their time accumulating material things, wasting their time with everything that doesn’t matter. Is that what you want for your life, Sunshine? Is it what you really want for your kids?”

Josiah reached for her hand again, but this time she stepped out of the way before he could touch her. “I love you. We all love you and miss you. We have a place for you with us. Come and be my wife. Come home.”

It had been a strangely quiet afternoon. Bliss had gone down for a nap after teething and being cranky all morning. Peace and Happy were playing with their favorite Lego blocks in the den and had built an entire city complete with the addition of a wooden train set Liesel and Sunny had picked up from the local thrift store.

The house was clean due to Sunny’s efforts, dinner was already in the oven and Sunny had settled herself at the kitchen table with her books and notebooks to do her schoolwork.

“How’s it going?”

Sunny looked up, her pencil pressed to her bottom lip. “Oh…I don’t know.”

Liesel took her mug of coffee and sat across from her. “Can I help you?”

Sunny hesitated, then pushed the folder of materials across the table. “I think I’ll be okay with the math. I’ve been practicing. And the reading and writing parts, I think I’ll be fine, too. But the science and social studies…”

She shook her head and frowned. “The test materials say we don’t have to remember a lot of dates and things. But…I just don’t know these things, Liesel. I don’t have a frame of reference. The science things all sound wrong to me, I pick the wrong answers all the time.”

“There are courses you can take that will help you. You don’t have to do this all on your own.” Liesel tapped the folder. “But you can do this, Sunny. You’re a smart kid.”

Sunny gave her a small smile. “Sometimes I think it would be so much easier to be…dumb. Then I’d have an excuse to just fail at this, and I probably wouldn’t care, either.”

“But you’re not dumb. And you’re not going to fail,” Liesel said firmly. “You’re going to ace this test and move on with your life, Sunshine, because you deserve to.”

Sunny tapped her pencil against her notebook. She looked toward the hall and the den where her children played as the sounds of their lilting voices rose in laughter. She looked at Liesel. “You really think I can make it? Get my GED, go to college, get a job, move out on my own?”

“Absolutely.” Liesel nodded. “I have no doubts at all.”

“It was easier to live in Sanctuary,” Sunny said. “We didn’t ever have to think for ourselves or make decisions. I didn’t have to worry about if I could pass a test so I could make a living and take care of my kids. All I had to do was obey and be taken care of.”

Liesel thought about that for a moment, then nodded again. “I can see how that could be appealing. Sure.”

“But it’s better here,” Sunny told her. “I don’t want you to think I don’t know that. It’s better. Just…harder sometimes. That’s all.”

Before Liesel could say anything, Sunny laughed a little, low. “But John Second was right, then, I guess. We appreciate what we have so much more when we see just what we could have, instead.”

Liesel never would’ve dreamed she could ever agree with anything crazy John Second had said, but she had to admit he was right in that. “It’s good to appreciate what you have.”

Sunny nodded. She gave Liesel a small smile that reached her eyes, her familiar blank look nowhere in sight. “I appreciate this, Liesel. I hope you know that.”

“I do, hon.” Liesel patted her hand.

From the den came the sound of blocks tumbling and a mingled mutter of protest. “I’ll go check.” Sunny closed her notebook and pushed her chair back, then ducked out of the kitchen. Liesel heard her murmuring, then more childish laughter.

Liesel looked around her silent, spotless kitchen and realized something important.

She could do this after all.

The real question was, would she ever be able to run the way she used to? Liesel knew it was just a matter of stamina, endurance. Working back up to it. But the funny thing was, the longer she’d gone without running every morning, the easier it had become to push the snooze button on her alarm and curl back up under the blankets, even though Chris and Sunny had both been so much better about making sure Liesel had her time in the mornings.

She just didn’t feel motivated the way she used to. Usually she avoided the scale, preferring to rely on how her clothes fit…the problem was, her jeans were all too tight in the belly. With Sunny home now, it would be a good time for Liesel to force herself into exercise.

In the den, she found Happy coloring. He didn’t look up from his drawing at first, carefully filling in the last stroke before holding it up to her. “I drew a picture of Tiger and Noodles, see?”

Liesel looked at the picture he’d drawn of the kittens. “Wow, Happy. That’s awesome. I love it. Where’s Peace? And your mama?”

He flicked a disinterested hand toward the French doors. Liesel looked through the glass. Sunny was in the garden again. Not sitting on the bench this time, but kneeling alongside the path with Peace beside her. Pulling weeds, it looked like. Not that it would do much good at this point—it would be time for everything to go to sleep soon. Unless maybe Sunny thought she’d plant some bulbs for the spring.

Even just a few weeks ago, the thought that Sunny and her children would still be with them when spring came would’ve sent Liesel’s heart racing with panic. Now as she touched Happy’s hair and bent over him to watch him color, she didn’t feel so freaked out. Life had changed and would keep changing. The only thing to do was keep running.

Running. She laughed to herself, shaking her head. She hadn’t even put her sneakers on yet.

“Is it a joke?” Happy looked up at her.

“Oh…no, hon. I just thought of something funny.” From this angle she couldn’t see past the slight dip of the hill in the yard, but assumed Sunny and Peace were still in the garden.

If she was going to run, she really should get on it. Upstairs, though, she felt even less motivation than she had before. Her rumpled bed beckoned even as she tucked the sheets and blankets tight. In the bathroom, she got on the scale to prove to herself that too many cupcakes could be hazardous to her waistline.

That’s when it hit her.

Hard, right in the breastbone, like a fist that punched the air right out of her. Liesel counted backward, lost track, counted again and gave up with a hitching squeak. She gripped the sink with both hands as a wave of uncertainty washed over her. Light-headed, woozy, she sank onto the cool tile floor and put her face in her hands.

Under the sink, there was a box she’d bought almost a year ago in a fit of optimism. A multipack of pregnancy tests, only two used before she’d forced herself to start waiting longer than a day or two after her period was supposed to start before checking. She had one left.

Just one.

With shaking hands, Liesel took out the box. She read the instructions, though of course she couldn’t forget them. She even had a small sleeve of paper cups under the sink to make this easier. But she couldn’t go, couldn’t force out even a drop, which was so opposite her body’s normal response to anything, that she sat on the toilet in shock for a full minute before convincing herself she just needed to relax.

She breathed. And again. Holding a paper cup between her legs felt ridiculous enough that she laughed…and then her bladder relaxed. Hot liquid hit the cup, and Liesel laughed harder at the thought that at first she’d been afraid she’d have nothing and now she had to worry about overflowing it.

It wasn’t her first morning urine, which was what the box suggested, but there was plenty of it. She dipped the cottony end of the stick into the urine, dumped the rest and set the stick on the edge of the sink while she washed her hands. She deliberately didn’t look at it. The test said it could take up to three minutes to show a result, and she knew from experience how long those three minutes could be.

It took only a few seconds though, for two pink lines to show in the window. Glancing from the corner of her eye, Liesel tried to assure herself she was just imagining them, but when she picked it up and looked at it, there was no question. No doubt.

Two pink lines, nothing faint or undetermined about them.