Deliver Her: A Novel (25 page)

MEG

How was it possible to live with someone for so long and not notice the signs, the red flags? And she, a nurse. Meg turned on the bedside lamp, a ruby-colored faux hurricane lantern, and sat up to listen while Jacob came clean about his drug use, the origins of which coincided not with his association with Ben but rather with the death of his father, Walter Carmody.

His dad’s passing two years ago, when the economy was still firmly entrenched in a recession, sent Jacob into a tailspin, he said. He and his dad were close, and the loss hit him hard.

Meg nodded. It had surprised her at the time that she hadn’t seen Jacob shed a tear over the loss. But, then again, everyone grieved in their own way, she had told herself. When she questioned him about it, he had said he needed to be strong for his mother.

“When he died, I not only lost my dad but also my business partner,” Jacob continued. Having had little exposure to the practical side, which Walter deftly managed until his death, Jacob found himself ill-equipped to estimate costs, manage the books, seek out new projects, especially in a recession. On his own, he vastly underquoted the small jobs he did manage to get, then scrambled to complete them, a vicious cycle that only set him back further.

“Why didn’t you ask me for help?” Meg asked.

“I kept thinking things would get better. And you were already stepping up, taking on all those extra shifts,” he said. “I needed to do this on my own—to know I could provide for you guys.”

“This isn’t 1950, Jacob. We’re supposed to be a team.”

“I didn’t feel like a team player. I was depressed. And anxious. So I went to the doctor for something to take the edge off.”

“A psychiatrist?”

“No, a regular doctor.” Not their family practitioner, but a walk-in clinic, he said. “I didn’t need a shrink.”

Of course not; admitting that would have placed Jacob squarely on “touchy-feely” turf. But if what Jacob was telling her was true, why hadn’t Meg seen any insurance claims?

“I paid for them myself. I didn’t want you to worry.”

You mean, you didn’t want me to know.
“I would have understood you were taking care of yourself. There’s no shame in taking antidepressants.”

He shrugged. The medication costs became more than he could manage. Around the same time the construction work had all but dried up, Ben offered him a place on the tree crew, where drugs were plentiful. From that point on, everything he’d told Meg in the car was true, Jacob said, crossing his arms. “That’s the whole story, I swear.”

Meg wanted to believe him. He deserved some credit for amending his story. Then again, he’d been living this whole other life, lying to her for over a year, so why should she believe him now?

There was something else, too. The timeline he’d just outlined—the dearth of construction work, Ben taking him on, Jacob’s restlessness and irritability—paralleled the disintegration of their marriage. It was a perfect storm of conditions leading to Jacob’s pronouncement on the deck that night.

“Is this why you wanted out of our marriage?” Meg asked. “If you were feeling so desperate, why didn’t you just tell me?”

“I felt guilty. I messed up so bad, I thought you’d be better off without me.”

She sighed. “Damn it, Jacob. You don’t get to decide that.” She got out of bed, dragging the quilt with her, and walked to the window. Amber streaked the sky over the empty swimming pool. Smoke rose from the trucks’ cabs idling in the parking lot. It would be daylight in a few hours. “What are we going to tell her, Jacob?”

When she turned to him for a response, Jacob’s lower lip was trembling, just as Alex’s did when she was on the verge of tears, their father-daughter resemblance never stronger than at that moment.

“Last Sunday. When you told me about the school. It sounded great. I wanted to help her, Meg. I did.” His voice cracked. “I love her so much.”

ALEX

“She never would have been in that car if it wasn’t for me,” Alex finished. “I hate myself.”

There. She’d said it out loud. She didn’t dare look at Mia, expecting her to totally judge her. When she finally did, the artist’s eyes were filled with compassion, not contempt.

“You’re making yourself sick over this, Alex. That night was an accident, too. Like today. It was fate.”

“Don’t even say that.” Alex hated that word. The palm reader had spouted a bunch of crap about fate and outside forces and protection.

“If you really feel that guilty, at least channel it by honoring your best friend’s memory.”

“I am. Look.” Alex offered up her forearm to show Mia the tattoo she and Shana had designed: an infinity loop, sprinkled with three stars, one large and two small. “See, Cass’s star is the biggest.”
It definitely had been worth all the pain and headaches of getting fake IDs and months of hiding the tattoo from her parents,
she thought, running a finger around the loop.

“A tat to memorialize someone is nice, but it’s only the start.”

Alex yanked her arm away. Mia was right. She’d been taking small steps toward a new life. Maybe it was time for a big one. Was it possible she’d misread Cass’s signs? After all, this was a new way of communicating on both sides.

Maybe Mia
was
Alex’s guardian angel after all.

Then she remembered Evan. “It’s too late. Everything’s wrecked already.” She told Mia about the older boy, the regretted favors and the message from the rest-stop bathroom—more stupid actions that couldn’t be undone.

Mia rolled her eyes. “He’s scum, Alex. Tell him to find himself some other mule. And your girl Shana? You might want to start fresh with a new set of friends.”

Start fresh.
As Mia turned out the lamp again, her advice spun in Alex’s head. Somebody else who wasn’t high on Shana. Alex sighed and rolled over, and under the watchful gaze of Mia’s purple princesses and butterflies she slept, finally, her last waking thought the realization the night had fallen eerily quiet outside Swiftriver.

The storm was over.

She’d barely closed her eyes when someone shook her, calling her name. This could not be starting again—was this
Groundhog Day
, the nightmare edition?
I told you. I’m not going.

“You have to, Alex.”

Alex blinked at the vibrant sunlight pouring through Mia’s sheer curtains, illuminating the artist like an angel.

“I’ve been trying to wake you up for, like, forever. There’s troopers downstairs. You have to talk to them.”

SATURDAY

MEG

Meg woke to the wheeze of a sixteen-wheeler’s hydraulic brakes outside their curtainless window—and the familiar weight of Jacob’s arm draped over her bare stomach. Instinctively, she sucked in her gut.

Neither had intended this to happen. At some point before daylight, Jacob had slipped into her bed, Meg settling against him as if it were the most natural thing in the world, as it
had
been for sixteen-plus years, absorbing his warmth in the drafty motel room, hoping to grab an hour of sleep. Both of them had been fully clothed.

And then they weren’t. Their coupling was swift, intense—born of the day’s trauma and tragedy, a primal need for release—and nothing more, Meg told herself sternly. Despite their respective resentments, they remembered how to comfort one another, relying on intimate knowledge of each other, their shared history. Instinctively, they resumed their natural rhythms, finally dozing off in this habitual position.

What wasn’t natural was the waking-up part. Holding her breath, Meg wriggled out from under his arm, so intent on not disturbing him she bumped her head on the headboard in the process. At the noise, Jacob groaned and turned over, blinking at her.

Meg yanked up the sheets to her chin in attempted modesty. “Good morning.”

“Morning. Meg, that . . .”

“It’s OK, Jacob.” She rolled over to grab her scrubs from the floor. “You don’t have to say anything.”

“I was just going to say, I’ve missed you. Last night was nice.” Yawning, he pushed himself up against the headboard. “Maybe we should just table this discussion until later.”

“Of course. Alex.” The coffeemaker clock barely registered six. Had it only been twenty-four hours since she sat in the van with Jack and Angel? “Do you think it’s too early to go over there?”

“I don’t care.” Jacob stepped into his pants and boots and hugged himself, bare chested. “What happened to the heat?”

“I don’t know.” The radiator had given out some time after they’d fallen asleep. When it came to lodging, she and Carl Alden had vastly different standards. While Jacob used the bathroom, Meg checked in with Melissa, surprised to learn Shana had spent the night. She had been a good distraction for Jack, Melissa said.

Outside, Jacob went directly to the passenger side of his truck. Meg gazed at him over her sunglasses. Was he letting her drive to keep the peace? Or had he taken something in the bathroom? His own sunglasses masked his eyes.

When she climbed in next to him, Jacob squeezed her hand. “Let’s go get our daughter.”

ALEX

The troopers’ backs formed a burly, steel olive wall along Swiftriver’s counter. Anxious, Alex cleared her throat coming down the stairs, getting their attention.

“Miss Carmody? Sorry to disturb you so early. Just have a few questions for you about yesterday.”

Now I’ll get what I deserve,
Alex thought, heart flip-flopping as she walked over to the counter.

The trooper snapped open a pad. “Let’s start with yesterday morning.” He grilled Alex on every aspect of the accident, from the hours leading up to the crash to everything after. How long had they driven without a break? Where had they stopped for lunch? Had the adults consumed any alcoholic beverages? Had she seen any weapons in the car? Had she noticed any erratic driving?

Answering, it dawned on Alex it wasn’t
her
behavior they were concerned with but Camo Man’s.

“Think, Miss Carmody,” said the shorter one, fake smiling at her. “Did anything jump out at you?”

Alex folded her hands on her lap, cracking her knuckles. Did they not know what had happened? “Of course. A moose.”

The two officers smirked.

“I swear. There
was
a moose. Did he not tell you that part?” She gestured to the bench, where Camo Man nursed a mug of coffee.

“What we meant was, did any circumstances of the accident seem
unusual
to you.”

Duh.
Jump out at you.
Now they pegged her as a wiseass. She could see where this was going: they were trying to nail Camo Man. Alex had walked away from her driver-captor once. Now she had a chance to redeem herself. She sat up straight and flipped her braid over her shoulder.

“He didn’t do anything wrong. The road was really slippery. He didn’t see the—”

She stopped as the officer scribbled furiously. “Wait. What are you writing? What’s going to happen to him?”

“Nothing, unless charges are filed. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.” He turned the page of his pad. “OK, let’s focus on those men in the truck who picked you up.”

Ugh.
Alex’s skin crawled at the mention of them.

When she’d climbed into the truck, the cab’s smoky dry heat had scorched her face like the sauna at Aunt Melissa’s gym. Ignoring her parents’ warnings about hitchhiking that played like a YouTube video in her brain, she settled on a scratchy blanket in the backseat and
told them right away about Camo Man’s car in the ravine.

“Don’t forget the purple scarf on the guardrail,” she’d prompted, as Chester called it in. “You can’t miss it.” Chester repeated her instructions. The troopers were on it, he promised. Relieved, Alex accepted the cigarette he offered, dragging on its unfiltered tip like it was the last one on earth. Kyle, the driver, was seriously quiet, but Chester made up for his silence with stories about the Kanc and missing hikers and bloody moose impaled on hoods of cars.

That last image freaked Alex out so much she almost accepted Chester’s offer of a drink—something potent and caramel-y that she’d never heard of. But she needed a clear head for her journey.

“No worries,” Chester said when she turned him down. “Plenty more where this came from, right, Kyle?”

Before long, they stopped for gas, dispensed from the bizarre pink gas tanks Mom Haircut noticed right before the crash. The two got out, talking and pointing to the truck occasionally, Kyle stomping away from Chester at one point.

When they got back in, something felt wrong, like they had unfinished business. Alex brushed off her uneasiness; she needed them. As Kyle pulled out onto the Kanc again, Chester’s hand suddenly landed on her knee.

“About time we get to know each other a little better. You got a boyfriend?”

Alex jerked her leg away, her mouth going dry at his touch.

“Aww. You shy all of a sudden? We got a
long
ride ahead of us.” He creeped her out the way he lingered on the word
long
.

That’s when she knew she had to get out, destiny or no destiny. Gripping her bag, she slid toward the door, wired for the Kanc’s next curve. When the truck slowed, she threw open the door and leaped out, landing sideways in icy slush.

The truck lurched to a stop. Chester hung his head out the window. “What’s the matter, girl? I scare you? I was just messing with you.”

Alex prepared to run, but Kyle gunned the engine and the truck disappeared around the bend. Jackhammers in full throttle, Alex crouched by the side of the Kanc until the only sound was the sleety wind whipping the evergreens—when she felt calm enough to walk back toward the gas station.

That ride had only been a brief detour, she reassured herself; she’d be more selective next time. Even without Cass’s scarf, she knew her friend had her back. And besides, she still had one more good luck charm. She pulled Camo Man’s plastic figure from her pocket, falling sleet brightening the reptile’s scarlet stare, hinting at untold truths. Kissing its bulging cheek, Alex began her skate-walk back to Swiftriver.

“We need to know, Miss Carmody,” the trooper pressed. “Did those truckers hurt you?”

Perched on the counter stool, Alex
reached
into her pocket and squeezed Rainmaker for courage. “No. Not at all. It was really stupid to hitch. So I changed my mind and jumped out.”

The trooper shut his notebook. “Well, then. That’s it. Looks like their story stacks up.”

Alex was free to go, they said.

Faint with relief, Alex sat at the counter, picking at pancakes Mia’s mother set in front of her. Her entire body felt wrung out; there was an ache in her neck that hadn’t been there when she went to sleep.

Reaching for the jug of syrup, she noticed the mud-colored moose lumbering across its label: “Made in New Hampshire.” The pancakes turned over in her gut, and she pushed the jug away.

Camo Man’s voice came from behind her. “Alex. I almost forgot.”

Something tickled her ear. Spinning to face him, she brushed silk. Purple silk.

“My scarf,” she cried, grabbing hold of it. “How did you . . . ?”

“I took it last night. Your mother told me it was very special.”

Thank you, Mom.
“I thought it was lost forever.” She pressed the fabric to her cheek, then wrapped it twice around her head. It was never coming off this time.

“Tell your friend it did some good.”

If only I could.

Alex slid off the seat and pulled Chester’s spare cigarette from her bag. “Just the porch. Promise. It’s gonna be a long day.”

She sensed Camo Man hovering on the other side of the door as she lit up, just as he had positioned herself outside Mia’s room last night. She’d almost fallen over him on the way to the bathroom. She dragged furiously on the cigarette, hurrying to finish before her parents arrived.

Swiftriver’s door opened. Mia slipped out, squinting in the sunlight. She touched the scarf. “Pretty color.”

“Thanks. It was Cass’s.” It felt surprisingly good to say her friend’s name out loud. She would do it more often. Turning, Alex aimed her cigarette at the pink gas tanks in the parking lot. “So’s that, by the way.
Not.
Who picked that brilliant shade?”

Mia laughed. “My mother.” She fake punched Alex’s arm. “See? You’re not the only one with a lunatic mom. Anyway, the pigs kind of put Swiftriver on the map, you know? You can’t miss them.”

It was true. The fuchsia tanks with their red tongues and swishy tails had helped Alex find her way back.

Mia leaned against the porch rail. “So, reunion time, huh?”

“Yeah. Any second.” Alex ground her cigarette into a sand-filled bucket by the door. “Um, I guess I should thank you.”

“It’s all good.” Mia grinned.

Again, Alex felt the relief of confiding in someone, the dam breaking, the lightening of a burden she’d carried for so long. Her mom had been right, of course: it
did
help to talk about things sometimes, even the saddest things in the world.

“I’ll be in New York for school this fall. Maybe we can hang out.” Mia lowered her voice. “But don’t say anything inside. My mom’s not exactly chill with it yet.”

“No worries. I’ve got enough to deal with.”

“Like that, maybe?” Shading her eyes, Mia pointed to a vehicle pulling in.

Recognizing her dad’s truck, Alex’s shoulders slumped. “Yeah. Like that. Think you can stall them a sec?”

Mia crossed her arms. “I
guess
. What for?”

“There’s one more thing I have to do.”