Never Let You Go (18 page)

“Well, there’s stuff I can tell you, if you want to know.” Anna’s voice dropped conspiratorially, and she edged closer to Megan.

“Ooh, what?” Megan giggled, a little zing of anticipation running through her. She half expected Anna to offer her something delicious and forbidden, like a pilfered brownie or her mother’s lipstick, the way she had when they were little.

Anna’s lips curled in a secret smile. “Well, stuff about your new boyfriend, for one thing.” Her breath smelled like stale cigarette smoke.

Megan took a minute to register that Anna was talking about Jordan.

“Like what?” she asked.

Anna licked her lips until they glistened. “Well, he is just
huge
,” she whispered, even though there was no one around for miles. “Seriously hung. And he loves you to—”

Megan grimaced and held her hands out in front of her. “Stop, okay?” She pushed herself back a few feet on the rock. “I don’t want to know that stuff.”

But Anna crawled toward her on her hands and knees. She pushed her face into Megan’s. “Don’t be such a prude. Jordan won’t like that. He’s an
animal
, Meg, an absolute
beast.
” A faint spray of spit flew from her lips. “He was always trying to put his hand—”

“Anna, quit it!” Megan got to her feet. “I said I don’t want to hear stuff like that.” She felt faintly dirty.

Anna sat back on her heels, looking wounded. “I just thought you’d want to know. Common courtesy and all.” She got to her feet, brushing off her knees. “Fine with me if you don’t.” Her voice was stiff.

“Don’t be mad,” Megan pleaded. “I’m sorry. You’ve been amazing about all this.” She took her friend’s hand and squeezed it. Anna’s flesh was icy cold. “Thanks for understanding,” Megan said. She meant it.

Anna nodded and shivered. “You know,” she said in a small voice. “It seems like people are always leaving me. First Dad. Then Mike. Now Jordan.”

Megan crumbled another piece of shale in her fingers. Anna didn’t bring up her father very often. Megan knew it was a hard topic.

“After Dad left, I was sure no one else would ever love me again,” Anna went on. She rested her head on her updrawn knees and sighed. “Until I met Jordan. I really thought he was the one.” Her voice broke slightly.

Megan looked at her more closely in the moonlight. Anna’s lips were purple, and her shoulders were shaking.

“You’re freezing,” Megan said with concern. “Come on, let’s go back.”

Anna nodded. They splashed creek water on their faces to rinse off the mud, then Megan put her arm around her shoulders. All of Anna’s energy seemed to have drained from her, and she allowed herself to be led back through the pasture.

Anna’s legs were shaking by the time they made it to the truck.

Megan paused. “You’d better let me drive.”

“Yeah,” Anna almost-whispered. “I’m beat.”

Megan draped her towel around Anna’s shoulders before starting the engine. She cranked the heater up full blast, and Anna leaned her head against the seat, closing her eyes.

Megan managed to get them back to the farm with a minimum of stalls, drawing on every ounce of knowledge about driving a stick that she remembered from driver’s ed. Anna was quiet during the drive, and her eyes were still closed when Megan parked in front of the dark farmhouse. She looked like a little child, enveloped in the big towel.

On an impulse, Megan reached out and stroked her friend’s damp, tangled hair. “We’re going to get through this, you know,” she said softly.

Anna’s eyelids flew open like window shades. Megan saw that the white of her right eye was blood red. She inhaled sharply.

“Shit, Anna, what’s wrong with your eye?” she gasped.

Anna blinked, throwing off the towel. “I must have burst a blood vessel.” She opened the truck door. “Happens when I’m stressed out.” She climbed out. “Come on. I’m sleepy.”

Megan trailed Anna to the cabin, still trying to shake the image of Anna’s red eye peering at her. She reached for the lantern as soon as she got in.

“I’m not even going to brush my teeth, I’m so tired,” she said to Anna as she switched on the light.

She turned to her bed and pulled back the top cover. Then she screamed, dropping the lantern, which went out as it crashed
to the floor. She screamed again, stumbling backward until she fell on Anna’s bed.

“What? What?” Anna was beside her now, flashlight in hand.

“On the bed!” Megan pointed, her other hand clamped over her mouth. She willed herself not to throw up.

Anna played the beam from the foot of the bed, past the gray blanket, up to the pillow. “Oh my God!” she shrieked. There on the pillow, a clutch of tiny cockroaches squirmed, writhing over each other in a dark, brown-green mass. “Jesus!”

“What do we do?” Megan moaned. “How did they get in?”

Anna played the beam of the flashlight up to the wall. “There—that’s how.”

Megan saw a thin crack in the wooden plank just above her bed. The dark night was just visible through the break. She moaned and buried her head in Anna’s pillow. She couldn’t stand one more second of those waving antennae and flat, slimy bodies. “Get rid of them, please, please.”

“Ew, no.” Anna backed away. “I’m not touching those things. That’s too disgusting. And all over your pillow!”

Megan swallowed hard and got up from the bed. “Open the door,” she said.

Anna pushed the screen door wide. Moving fast, before she could think about what she was doing, Megan scooped up the pillow—
don’t dump them on the floor!—
and flung it out the front door. She couldn’t see what happened to the roaches in the dim light, but the pillow landed with a soft
flump
on the dirt in front of the porch. Gradually, her pulse slowed.

Anna started busily shoving clothes and blankets into a duffel bag.

“What are you doing?” Megan asked.

“I’m not sleeping here anymore.” Anna folded a blue towel into the bag. “Roaches only like things that are dirty—like your pillow. I mean, why would they be there and not on my bed?”

“Because of that crack in the wall, remember?”

Anna unhooked her toiletry bag from its place by the door. “But why would they just stay there? Did you think of that? I mean, would they just hang out on your pillow if they weren’t attracted by some smell or something?”

“Are you saying I’m dirty?” Megan felt her hair. It was a little oily, but she’d just washed it that morning. She felt vaguely ashamed, as if she’d been caught picking her nose.
But I haven’t
done
anything!

Anna zipped the bag briskly. “Sorry. I don’t want to hurt your feelings.” She shrugged. “I’m sure Uncle Thomas will let me sleep at the house.” She moved toward the door.

Megan panicked at the thought of being left alone out there in the cabin, all of those roaches right outside, maybe already crawling back up the walls or under the screen door, trying to get back in. . . .

“Wait, Anna!” She clutched her friend’s sleeve. Anna looked down at Megan’s hand pointedly. Megan took her hand away. “Please, please don’t go. I don’t know why the roaches were on my pillow, but I’ll wash it, okay? And we can put some duct tape over the crack. Please! I don’t want to stay out here by myself.” She hated the cringing abjectness in her voice.

Anna regarded her steadily. Her bad eye looked like a pool of blood. She set down her bag and sighed. “Fine. But you’d better wash
all
your bedding—tonight. Whatever those bugs liked on your pillow is still there. And take a shower.”

Megan felt a stupid urge to cry, whether with thankfulness that Anna was staying or misery, she didn’t know. “Thanks. Here’s the tape.” She pulled a roll of duct tape, something her mother said you should never travel without, from her bag and set it on the bedside table. Then she pulled the blanket and sheet off the bed and dumped them both on the floor.

“Oh, and Megan?” Anna spoke from behind her.

Megan turned around.

“You’d better wash your hair, too.”

The cabin was dark and Anna was asleep when Megan returned from the farmhouse two hours later, clean from the shower and bearing an armload of freshly washed laundry. She made up her bed, dragging from weariness, and climbed between the clean sheets. Layers of sleep were beginning to fold in over her when she remembered the crack. She pushed herself up, meaning to make sure Anna had taped it thoroughly. The crack was still open. And the roll of duct tape sat on the table where she’d left it. Anna had just gone to bed, as if she wasn’t worried about the roaches at all.

CHAPTER 12

“Come on, little guy, come on.” Megan kept her voice low and steady, but friendly, as she urged Sweetie into his stall. The morning sun was hot, and the little foal’s fur was wet on his chest and behind his ears. He smelled like a damp wool sweater, an odor that Megan found oddly pleasant.

She and Sweetie had been working together for over an hour while Rosie grazed nearby, but Megan sensed the little horse was tiring. He was making a lot of progress, though. He had already learned not to chew on the halter or lead rope and not to turn his head around when he was being led. Now Megan was working on picking up his feet, which Sweetie was not very fond of. He had a lot of strength in those bony little legs and had very nearly stamped Megan’s toes many times.

But Sweetie had also developed a slight fear of the drain that ran in front of his stall and was reluctant to step over it.

Maybe he’s afraid of the metal grille covering it
, Megan thought.

Sweetie balked again as she tried to lead him into the stall, even though Rosie was already waiting calmly within. He was hungry, Megan knew, and wanted his mother. This only increased his anxiety, and he pulled back on the lead rope, his little head twisting up and away, his eyes wide.

“Now, now,” Megan soothed. “Easy.” She knew instinctively that he shouldn’t be forced but that he would only get over his fear by walking over the drain. The last thing she wanted was for him to develop a bad association with his stall.

Megan thought for a moment, then tied Sweetie to a rack across the aisle. She went down to the feed room and returned with a cup of sweet feed, the honey-coated grain that the foal loved.

She sprinkled a handful of the grain on the floor just beyond the drain, and then another handful a few feet farther away. Then she led Sweetie over to it.

“See?”

She showed him the feed, and he eyed the drain for a long moment, then very tentatively stretched out his neck. He delicately ate the kernels, then noticed the second handful. He would have to step over the drain to get to it.

Megan watched him thinking about it. Sweetie raised one hoof, then set it down, looked at the grain, then, as she held the rope loosely, stepped over the drain. Megan patted his neck as he ate the treat, but inside, she was jumping up and down.

As she closed the door and hung the rope up, she thought to herself that nothing in the world was as satisfying as those little
moments of triumph. Sweetie had gotten over the drain and he hadn’t been scared. She was so proud of him.

Humming happily to herself, Megan headed down the barn aisle. Lunch would be ready in a few minutes, and she was on serving duty, since Anna and Sarah were cooking. There had been no discussion of the cockroach incident when they woke this morning—just the usual chat about the day. The blood had retreated from Anna’s eye.

Outside on the dusty path, Megan saw Jordan heading toward her, and her heart gave a little leap. He looked like a golden god. “Hi,” she said. “How’d you know I was here?”

He smiled at her and touched her hair. “Where else would you be?” He took her hand, intertwining his fingers with hers as they walked toward the farmhouse. “I like this,” he said.

“Lunch?”

He laughed. “No, being able to hold your hand. I’m really glad everything’s out in the open.”

Megan nodded. “Me too.”

Jordan must have sensed something in her voice, because he glanced down at her. “Yeah, how’d it go with Anna?”

Megan shrugged. The white of the farmhouse showed now through the trees ahead. “Okay, I guess. She says everything’s cool, and she’s speaking to me at least.” An image of Anna’s bloody eye flashed through her mind. “She might need a few days to adjust.”

Jordan nodded. “That’s understandable.”

The table was under the trees and set for lunch, with a plate of
carrot sticks and pepper slices in the middle. No one was outside, though she heard Anna’s and Sarah’s voices floating out from the kitchen. Gently, she tried to extract her hand from Jordan’s, and he looked down at her quizzically.

Megan smiled apologetically. “Sorry,” she whispered, pulling away.

Jordan glanced at the farmhouse, then quickly drew her in toward him, pressing a kiss to her lips. “All right for now,” he said. “But that party is tonight, and we’re dancing. I don’t care who’s there.” His blue eyes were intense.

“We’ll dance,” Megan promised, holding both of his hands.

The screen door banged, and they both looked over. Anna came down the steps with a platter of sandwiches, followed by Sarah with a bowl of strawberries. Megan dropped Jordan’s hands as if they were on fire.