The Lost Truth (11 page)

“Okay, good.” We continued over to the tent with the marshmallow shooters, and she began to look inside each one. Each wall inside the tent was covered in marshmallow shooters. There had to be at least thirty different designs that sat on collapsible shelves lining the tent.

There was a teenage girl in a black tank top sitting on the stool behind a table near the middle of the tent, running the entire stand. She looked oddly familiar, but I couldn’t place her. She looked up from her cellphone for a second as we meandered around the tent. She looked up again. “Mr. Roberts!”

Tilting my head, I shook it as Cindy kept browsing in pursuit of the perfect shooter. “I’m sorry. I can’t place you.”

She shooed a hand out, “It’s okay. I was one of your bus helpers.”

Seeing the mark on her shoulder just to the right of her collar bone made me realize it was Ezma, one of the bus helpers who was struck by a stray bullet that day in the trailer park. “Ezma . . .”

“Yeah. You do remember?”

Looking over at Cindy as she tinkered with the shooters on the wall, I nodded. “You look so different. Wasn’t your hair blonde?”

She nodded and looked away. “Yeah, I dyed it. Went kind of gothic.”

“Oh . . .” I raised my chin.

“I’m not depressed or anything. I went to therapy for like a year afterward and came out better than ever. I love life and I’m doing great. How are you?” She looked over toward Cindy. “That’s your little girl, right?”

I nodded.

“Wow.” She looked back at me. “That’s insane how she’s grown up so much!”

She began to tell me all about how high school was going and how she managed to find a progressive church in Spokane, but it was hard to pay attention as memories pelted my mind from years ago. The children’s ministry, the bus . . . it was all coming back. Then that day in the trailer park.

The painful memories began to surface.

The screams.

Suddenly, I felt the overwhelming desire for a drink.

“Cindy,” I called out to her.

“What?” she asked as she held a pink zebra-striped marshmallow shooter.

Waving her over, I said, “You want that one? We have to go.”

“I’m still looking, Dad.” She placed it back onto the shelf and continued down the wall.

“Excuse me, Ezma.” Walking around the corner of the table, I went over to Cindy and said, “Come on. Pick one and let’s go.”

“Why?” she asked, looking up at me.

Gulping, I lied. “Daddy’s leg is hurting.”

She looked down at my leg and then back over to the wall. “Okay . . .” she grabbed the pink zebra striped one and came over with me to pay for it.

“Did you hear about Jillian?” Ezma asked as she rang up the shooter. Jill was one of the other bus ministry helpers that was actively involved with the children. She was there on that day too.

“What?”

“She offed herself.”

I cringed as I covered Cindy’s ears. “My daughter is right here! Have a little decency, would you?”

“Sorry. Thought it’d go over her head. Twelve dollars.”

I quickly pulled out my wallet with a trembling hand and dropped a twenty on the table. “Keep it.” Turning Cindy around, I hurried her through the crowds of people in pursuit of my truck parked on the opposite end near the grocery store.

“Clay!” a familiar voice called out from the crowd. Glancing over my shoulder as I kept moving toward my truck with Cindy’s hand in mine, I saw it was Colleen, the nurse from Dr. Behr’s office.
Ugh.

Ignoring her, I continued to my truck. My rusted truck never looked so good. I went around to the passenger side and helped Cindy get in. Not letting her buckle her own seat belt brought worry to her face. “What’s going on, Dad? Why are you acting like this?”

“I just need to get home.” My hands shook as I latched her belt.

Making sure not to slam the door for fear of worrying my angel anymore, I closed it and started around the front of my truck.

“Clay.”

Looking up, I saw it was Gail.

“You look like you’re in a hurry.” She crossed her arms. “What are you doing, Clay?”

Forcing myself to mentally slow down to not alarm Gail more than she was, I leaned my palm against the hood and shrugged. “I’m all right.”

She glared. “I asked what are you doing.”

“Oh. We were just about to leave. Checked out all the booths and had some fun.”

Gail leaned past my shoulder to look at Cindy in the cab of the truck. She glared again at me with a suspicious look on her face. “Your sister said you were going to come see the man on stilts, but it looks like he’s over there just getting up on them.”

Glancing over at the guy, I shrugged. “Oh. We didn’t want to wait.”

“
We
?” Gail began walking around the truck to the side Cindy was on, and I tried to stop her, but she opened the passenger side door. “Cindy.”

“Yeah?” she responded.

“Did you want to leave the farmer’s market?”

Her eyes shifted over to me and then back at her mother. She shrugged a little and then looked down at her marshmallow shooter without a response.

Gail closed the passenger door and turned around to face me. “I’m watching you, Clay. You better not do anything to jeopardize my little girl. I will kill you.”

She walked past me. I watched as she headed through the parking lot over to her car. I hollered at her, “Way to come off as a psycho. And she’s my girl, too!” I didn’t think she heard me as she didn’t turn or anything to acknowledge my words. Irritated, I went back around the front of my truck and got in to leave.

A
fter stopping at a drive-through for some ice cream to perk Cindy up, I arrived back to my sister’s house to see that Gail’s car was already parked out front and she wasn’t in it. Not seeing Janice’s car, I shook my head in disbelief. W
ho does she think she is? She just let herself in?

“Mommy’s here!” Cindy said excited as we rolled to a stop out in the driveway.

“Yep . . . she sure is.”

We got out and went inside. Gail wasn’t in the living room. “Gail?” I called out, letting my voice carry through the house.

There was no response.

Hearing faint crying coming from down the hallway, I motioned over to the couch for Cindy to sit down. Picking up the remote off the coffee table, I turned on cartoons.

“Is that Mommy crying?” she asked.

“Just watch the cartoons, dear.” Setting the remote back down on the coffee table, I headed down the hallway toward the bathroom. The crying grew louder the closer I came to the door in the hallway.

Leaning against the woodgrain door, I knocked lightly. “Gail? Are you okay?”

She replied in a broken voice. “Yeah. I’m fine.” Her words fell over one another as she tried to pull them together. “I’m just. I’m fine.”

My mind raced to what could be wrong.
Her mother?
While one part of my mind wanted to be careless about her emotional state, the other part couldn’t help but worry. Knowing that Gail was committed to a mental institution at the age of nineteen for attempted suicide didn’t help matters. While that might have happened decades and decades ago in her life, it was still in the back of my mind. “Want me to call your mother?”

She erupted in tears more so, and the door jerked open. Her eyes were red and swollen. “She died, Clay.”

“What? When? I just saw you.”

Her bottom lip trembled as she pulled her cellphone from the counter of the bathroom and showed me a text from her half-baked sister, Chloe. It read:

Mom just died. Choked on a piece of steak and suffocated. I’m going out. Called an ambulance. XOXO SIS

Her sister, Chloe, was a brain fried drug addict who smoked so much meth that she literally couldn’t process emotion. Cringing after reading the disturbing text message, I did the most natural thing that came to me. I pulled Gail into my chest and wrapped my arms around her.

She clung to my shirt collar and sobbed. Snot, tears and make-up smeared across my white V-neck. My heart broke for Gail and the loss of her mother.

Pushing her gently back off me, I dipped my chin to look her in the eyes. “Was she not doing well?”

She shook her head. “She had been struggling really hard. You know ever since she lost Cliff, she’d wanted to die. But . . . I thought she’d die from the illness, not choking.”

I nodded. “I remember her saying she wanted to go to heaven after Cliff passed.” I sighed and shook my head. “I’m so sorry, Gail.”

“I guess she got what she wanted.” Her tone was stiff and borderline agitated. “I think I’m just going to leave.”

“I’m sure you need time to process.” Placing a hand on her shoulder, I rubbed gently.

“No. I mean leave back to Ocean Shores.”

Stepping back, I shook my head. “You just got here. Cindy just got here. Why? Your mom needs a funeral.”

Her tone grew calloused, much like the day in the hospital when she left me. “I don’t want to take care of her final arrangements. That’s not me. I’m not good with that kind of thing. You know that, Clay.”

Gulping down my pain, I tried to pull back my emotions and rein them in as I spoke. I couldn’t believe Gail could be so selfish about her mother’s death. I knew Gail needed time to think, so I put my heart on the line. “Please just leave Cindy with me for a while. I’ll even bring her back to Ocean Shores to you. I don’t want her to leave this soon.”

Gail laughed. “So I’m left alone?”

“You really are selfish.” It felt good to say it to her face. She began to look angry as she started to walk past me. I stretched out my hand and pushed against the wall to stop her. “Don’t do this. Let her stay.”

She shot a look over at me and said, “No.” Hurrying under my arm, she stormed out into the living room. I followed after her.

“Get your stuff. We’re leaving!” Gail grabbed the remote and turned off the TV.

“Why? We just got here. I miss Daddy!” Cindy shouted as tears started.

“Don’t you sass me!” Gail scolded. “Get your stuff.”

“Daddy, please! Don’t make me go! I want to see you!” Cindy cried out, running over to me and clutching onto my bad leg. Pain shot through my leg, but I ignored it.

“Your dad’s a drunk cripple, Cindy. He can’t take care of you. Come on. Get your stuff!” She came over to Cindy and me and reached a hand out to grab Cindy.

“Enough!” I shouted, grabbing Gail’s wrist. Pushing it back, I stepped in front of my daughter and said, “You’re not taking her anywhere.”

“You have no right!” she shouted back at me.

“I don’t care. You’re not mentally stable right now, Gail.”

She shook her head and said, “You are pathetic. My biggest mistake was waiting as long as I did to divorce you!” She hurried over to the door and left without saying another word. As the wheels spun outside the house and kicked gravel up, I bent down and comforted Cindy as she sobbed.

“Are you okay?” I asked, cupping her face in my hands.

She sniffed and shook her head, digging her face into my shoulder. Comforting her as my leg throbbed in pain, I could only think about what Gail was going to do next.

After I told Janice what had happened after Cindy went to bed that evening, she just sat there at the kitchen table, rolling the salt shaker between her hands. She was just as worried as I was.

“She’s not going to . . . ya know . . . do anything, right?” Janice asked, setting the salt shaker down on the table.

“No. It’s been hours. I think we’re okay. At least for now.” Looking over at the freezer, I felt the call of the whiskey.

I wanted it.

I needed it.

It was calling out to me.
Make this poor excuse for a day fade away.

Janice broke my thoughts. “Paul and I talked. I decided to break up with him. Don’t want nor need the games in my life. I’m a fully grown woman.”

“The whole thing still seems bizarre to me. He won’t answer my calls. What’d he say when you asked him about the girl?”

She shrugged. “Not much. He kept trying to say it was complicated. That he had a lot going on right now and he wasn’t sure if we could be together. I told him the moment you decided to kiss that other girl, you decided not to be with me.”

My eyebrows shot up, but I kept quiet.
Where’s that value you were talking about wanting, Paul?
I shook my head.

“He just said he understood why I was upset. Clay, I swear, he wasn’t even there in the conversation. You know what I mean?”

I nodded. “That’s so weird.”

“Yeah. The strangest part is . . . I want to know
why
. I genuinely worry about him and care for some stupid reason.” She looked at me. “And by the way, I’m fine with you guys being friends or whatever. That’s your journey, and I know you don’t have many.”

“Thanks.”

Glancing over at the clock on the stove, she said, “Well, I’m going to bed.” Janice stood up and headed through the kitchen. She stopped over at the freezer and said, “I dumped it all out this morning, by the way.”

My eyes shifted to the back door as I thought about the cases I had stashed in the shed.

“Even your supply in the shed.”

My lips pressed tightly together to form a thin line. It wasn’t her place as my sister to do that. Janice lingered a moment longer, like she was waiting for me to say something.

“Great,” I said curtly. “That’s awesome, Sister. Thank you! You know what’s best for me so much more than I do.” Dipping my chin to my chest, my jaw clenched as I thought about all the whiskey being gone.

She glared at me. “Your daughter is now living with us, Clay. I really should have dumped it all out a long time ago. You know I’m a recovered alcoholic, but I felt bad for your pain and everything that has happened to you. Now you have to be sober. You have a daughter to take care of.” She turned and headed out of the kitchen and down the hallway to her bedroom.

Once I heard her bedroom door shut, I stepped out onto the back porch and called Paul again.
Come on! Answer your phone.

“Hello?”

“Paul. It’s me, Clay.”

“Hey.”

“What on earth happened, man?”

He was silent for a moment. “Want to go fishing? I’ll tell you about it.”

“How about you just tell me right now?”

Silence came from his end.

“Fine. We’ll go fishing.” Thinking about how Cindy was living with me now, I added, “My daughter lives with me now, so is it okay if she goes too?”

“That’s fine. We’ll take the boat out.”

“You have a boat?”

“Yeah, man. Just a little paddle boat, but it works. Let’s plan on next week. Thursday work for you?”

Sighing, I shook my head. “Why can’t you tell me right now?”

“I don’t want to.”

My jaw clenched. “Next week sounds good.” Hanging up the call with Paul, I got up from the kitchen table and strolled down the hallway to the spare room where Cindy was sleeping. Looking at her through the partially open door, the hallway light lit up half her face. A resting princess who was finally safe with her dad. I smiled and felt the desire for whiskey subside.