Marionette (35 page)

Later that night, while Jess slept, I fed each page of Abbie’s diary into the fire. Then I burned all of the evidence. By the time I went to bed, nothing remained. All I kept was a necklace with a locket. Opening it, I was surprised to find that it was empty. No matter, I put the necklace on and lay down next to Jess, deciding what my next move should be. Then it hit me.

Time to disappear.

Epilogue

I was sitting at the table, a book in one hand and a pulled pork sandwich in another, when I heard the bell on the front door tinkle.

“Paige!” Karen shouted, and darted towards me. Following her, Tom and Jake strolled over and each gave me a bear hug, lifting me off the ground.

“How was the drive?” I asked.

“Long!” Karen sank down into a chair as if she had just completed a marathon.

I laughed and turned to the boys. “I see she still has a penchant for drama.”

“Oh, you know Karen.” Jake mussed the hair on top of her head.

“Sit down, you two. You must be famished. Let me get you something to eat.” Before I entered the swinging doors to the kitchen, I heard Tom shout for some beers.

When I returned with the tray, Karen asked, “How do you like owning your own restaurant?”

I gazed around at my small place. “You know, it’s not how I envisioned my life, but now, I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“And Louisiana? You like it here?” Tom pinned me with a look.

“It gets hot and humid in the summer, but people leave me alone for the most part. At first, when I opened this place”—‌I spread my arms out—‌“they thought I was mad. An outsider opening a BBQ joint just outside of New Orleans—‌many were outright insulted. My first week, I didn’t charge customers a cent. Then, word spread. And now they come in droves. You just missed the lunch rush. The madder they think you are, the more you fit in around here.”

“Is it just you here?” Karen looked about the deserted restaurant to confirm her suspicions.

“Yeah. We close down after the lunch rush. Not too much traffic in these parts around dinnertime. The rest of my staff went home already. I like this time of day. It’s so quiet. Almost every afternoon you can find me here, reading a book.”

Waiting.

“So that’s your truck in the lot.” Tom pointed to my beat-up ’74 Ford.

“Yep.”

Karen looked over her shoulder. “That jalopy? It’s probably older than you.”

“Nah, we’re the same age.” I looked at Tom’s Jag next to my beater. “How you liking the car, Tom?”

He smiled guiltily. “It’s a little nicer than your new old vehicle.”

“Trust me, they would run me out of town if I drove around in a Jaguar.”

Jake pulled a photo album from his bag. “We thought you might like to see some of the kids.”

Mr. Alexander’s lawyer was right: I had ended up wanting my inheritance—‌just not for myself.

With Liddy’s help, I had opened a home for runaway and abused kids. Jake finished his degree last year and has taken over the day-to-day operations. Liddy sits on the board, along with my lawyer and Jake, and Tom works as an intern there. When he graduates, he’ll join the board and help run the place. The first year, we had three kids. Now we had more than a dozen. And I wanted to help more. No child should feel as if they have no one to turn to.

I fingered Abbie’s locket, which now contained photos of both my sisters.

I flipped through some of the pages, stopping when I saw a photo of Liddy.

Two years. I had disappeared two years ago.

Liddy had her arm around a young man who couldn’t have been much older than fifteen. Both of them were smiling, and both wore Santa hats.

The next photo was of Mel and a young girl. Weasel stood off to the side, looking awkward and annoyed. When Mel had dumped him, he’d decided to clean up his act, attending Gamblers Anonymous meetings. From what I hear, he is turning out to be a semi-respectable person, but I still think of him as a weasel.

I stared at the boys sitting across from me, who had become men during my absence. Even Karen, with her curly mop of hair, looked a little older, a little wiser.

“You coming home for Audrey’s wedding?” asked Karen.

I shook my head. “I don’t think that would be wise. I can’t believe it: Minnie dumping her boyfriend and then marrying a bloke she’s only dated for four months. She’s not pregnant, is she?” I joked.

Karen guffawed. “Nope. Still a virgin.”

“Good for her. I hear the guy’s nice.”

“A male Pollyanna if I ever met one,” stated Tom. “They’re perfect for each other.”

None of us ever brought up Aaron. He was in prison for what I hoped would be a very long time. To be honest, I’d never had the heart to follow the trial. By that time, I was through with drama.

Jenna had transferred to a different school and was finally a member of a winning team. Unfortunately, she sat on the bench most of the time, and I’m sure she bitched about that every day.

The sound of a truck brought me back to the here and now. It was the one I had been waiting for, the one I waited for each day around this time. I swallowed some beer as the tires came to a screeching halt, kicking up gravel from the lot. The door opened with a horrendous creak. Then I heard the kick. Every day, she kicked that old truck door shut; otherwise it wouldn’t close all the way. Her tiny footprint was permanently embedded in the door. She never bothered locking it; neither of us locked our trucks. Our insurance policy was worth more than the actual vehicles.

I watched as she opened the door with one hand, balancing a stack of books in the other. My three guests jumped up to greet her, and after the ceremonious hugging and exchange of greetings, she slid onto the seat next to me, grabbed my beer and took a generous swig.

She wore her favorite Tulane shirt, proudly stating she was an MBA nerd.

“How was school, sweetheart?” I gave her a peck on the cheek.

Jess smiled. “Thrilling.”

I rolled my eyes and looked to our friends. “She’s the only person I know who gets excited when she sees a spreadsheet.”

Everyone laughed, except Jess, who feigned being hurt.

“To friends,” Karen said, raising her glass.

We all clinked our glasses. “To friends.”

I stared at the sign over the bar.
To absent friends.
Silently, I toasted my sisters. No one ever asked why I had named the place The Two Sisters. Those who knew me, understood. Those who didn’t, assumed Jess and I were sisters.

We lived off the money we made from the restaurant, and everything we had was ours. I didn’t owe anyone. It felt good to be an Average Joe in the world. No society pages. No reporters. No one gave a fuck about me—‌except for Jess and my friends.

I wasn’t rich, but I was happy. I had done it. I had escaped. Had disappeared. Finally, I could live my life on my terms

Jess squeezed my leg, bringing my attention back to our guests.

“Who’s up for hitting the town? Tom you won’t believe this, but you can walk around the French Quarter with an open beer.” I stood to clear the dishes.

Jess lit a cigarette. “I bet we can track down some Cuban cigars for you boys this weekend.”

Jake looked pleased, but Tom started to turn green.

On my way back from the kitchen, I said, “And, Karen, southern men are charmers. Maybe we can finally track down a boyfriend for you.”

Jess swatted my arm. “Play nice, Paige.”

“Besides, I already have one.” Karen stuck out her tongue.

I fell into my chair, dumbstruck. “What’s going to happen next?” I asked.

And for the first time, the thought didn’t scare me.

Dedication

This book is dedicated to friends who encouraged me to chase my dreams.

Author’s Note

Thank you for reading
Marionette.
If you enjoyed the novel, please consider leaving a review on Goodreads or Amazon. No matter how long or short, I would very much appreciate your feedback. You can follow me, T. B. Markinson, on twitter at
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[email protected]
. I would love to know your thoughts.

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Acknowledgments

I would like to thank my editor, Karin Cox. I am extremely grateful for all the hours she spent hunting for all of my mistakes and for her wonderful suggestions on how to improve the final product. Thank you to my beta readers who assisted me in the early stages. Guido Henkel did a fantastic job formatting this ebook. I’m grateful for his patience and know-how. Two of my blog buddies hunted down typos with gusto and their commitment is much appreciated. Lastly, my sincerest thanks goes to my partner. Without her support and encouragement this novel would not exist.

About the Author

T. B. Markinson is a 39-year old American writer, living in England, who pledged she would publish before she was 35. Better late than never. When she isn’t writing, she’s traveling around the world, watching sports on the telly, visiting pubs in England, or taking the dog for a walk. Not necessarily in that order.
Marionette
is her second novel.
A Woman Lost
was her debut novel.

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Feel free to visit TB’s blogs to say hello. On
Making My Mark
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50 Year Project
she chronicles her challenge to visit 192 countries, read 1001 books, and to watch the AFI’s top 100 movies.

A Woman Lost
(Sample)

Chapter One

“Hello.”

“I’m getting married.”

“What?”

“I’m getting married.”

“Peter, it’s”—‌I rolled over in bed and looked at the clock—‌“five in the morning, on a Sunday. I’m not in the mood for a prank.” My entire body ached; I’d been awake most of the night.

“It’s not a prank, Elizabeth. I am getting married.”

I sat up in bed.

“We’re flying in next week to have dinner with Mom and Dad. She wants you to join us.”

“What?” I rubbed my eyes, wondering if I was dreaming. My brother and I were not close in any way. I didn’t even know he had my home phone number. Was my number listed? And I was shocked that he’d admitted to his bride-to-be that he had a sister.

“Madeline wants to meet you. Oh, and bring Meg.” He sounded upbeat. It was four in the morning in California, an hour later here in Colorado.

“We broke up.” I tried to keep my voice calm and quiet.

“Oh, my gosh. When did that happen?”

“Two years ago.”

A long, awkward silence followed.

“Oh…‌wow…‌that’s too bad. Well, is there someone else?”

I wanted to tell him that girls, let alone love, just didn’t fall from the sky. Instead, I looked over at the naked woman in my bed and chuckled. Well, maybe girls did fall from the sky. Good grief, she could sleep through anything. She always said her mom was intentionally loud during naptime so she would be a sound sleeper; apparently, it worked.

“I’m not ready for that.” I didn’t mean I wasn’t ready to date. Obviously, there was a woman with me, but he didn’t know that on the other end of the phone. I meant I wasn’t ready to introduce anyone to my family…‌again.

“Hopefully you will still join us. Maddie is so excited to have a sister.”

I thought to myself
fuck no
.
No way
. I wasn’t going to have dinner with Mom, Dad, Peter, and now a fiancée.
No fucking way.
I’d rather gouge out my own eyes and then eat them.

“Um…‌sure…‌where should I meet all of you?”

“At the club.”

Of course! The club. I should have known. Why would they go anywhere else?

* * *

I grabbed my chai from the barista in the coffee shop, and announced, “Peter called.”

“Who’s Peter?” asked Ethan, and poured an insane amount of sugar into his coffee before we sat down at the table. He always ordered the special of the day, never a fancy drink with a shot of this or two squirts of that. He loved coffee with sugar and none of the hoopla.

“My brother, you ass.”

“Oh, my god! How is God?” He straightened his starched shirt. To say he was fastidious would be an understatement.

“He called to tell me he’s getting married. Oh, and get this: he wants me to join him, his fiancée, and my parents for dinner.” I blew into my steaming cup of chai. The vapors fogged up my contacts, and I had to blink several times to see again.

“You said no, didn’t you? Tell him you have a violent case of the clap and if you sneeze they’ll get it.”

“I’m meeting them Monday night.”

“Jesus! You do like your public floggings.”

“He asked me to bring Meg.”

Ethan giggled as he stirred his coffee. “Talking to you about your family always makes me feel better about my own messed-up situation.”

“Yeah. When I told him we broke up, he actually said, ‘Oh, my gosh.’ Like he gives a crap.”

“He did not! He always was such an ass.
C’est la vie
. So bring the new girl.”

“Sarah? Are you kidding? She’s not ready to meet the family. And besides, I insinuated I wasn’t seeing anyone, so I can’t bring her now. It will seem desperate.”

“Don’t you mean
you
aren’t ready to introduce her to the family, and other things, I might add?” He gave me a knowing look.

“That could be the case.” I smiled and took a huge gulp of my chai.

* * *

Sarah and I woke up before the alarm trilled, but neither of us wanted to crawl out of bed yet. She reached over and ran her fingers through my hair. “What are you doing today?”