Too Far to Say Far Enough: A Novel (26 page)

Whoa.

“I swear, Flannery.”

“Do you? Because if I come home and he’s still there, you’ll never see me again.”

“Okay,” I said. “Let’s take this one step at a time. Ms. Donohue, I need some assurance that Flannery is going to be safe at home.”

“Are you with the county?”

“No, like I said, I’m with a nonprofit, but I do have a responsibility to Flannery.”

“You can’t keep her away from me.”

I didn’t point out that she had apparently let somebody else do that. Flannery snatched up the phone and brought it close to her face, as if she were trying to see her mother on the screen.

“She won’t keep me from you. But if he ever comes back, you will
never
see me again. You have to make it so he can’t ever hurt me anymore.”

“What did he
do
to you?”

Brenda was near hysteria. Flannery, though her eyes still streamed, was almost unnaturally calm.

“It doesn’t matter now,” she said. “Miss An—these people are helping me get healed. I just want to go forward, but I can’t do it with Elgin there. You have to promise me.”

“I promise.”

I watched Flannery. This obviously wasn’t a new way of relating for these two. Flannery was more the mother than the child. I could almost feel Brenda Donohue drawing strength, no matter how misguided, from her daughter.

“Give me until Sunday,” Brenda said. “I can make this happen by Sunday. Can you come at two thirty? Maybe three? I’ll be off work.”

Flannery’s eyes rolled. “Mom, you don’t get it. You have to quit your job so we can leave. For good.”

I eased the phone from Flannery’s hand. “Actually, Ms. Donohue, I wouldn’t give notice. You don’t want to arouse any suspicion.”

“All right. That’s right. I’ll work that last shift and then I’ll meet you at the house. All right? Is that all right?”

“Three o’clock Sunday,” Flannery said. “You have to be ready, Mom.”

This poor woman was unraveling. How was she going to make arrangements for them to go into permanent hiding from a man Flannery was obviously terrified of? And how was I going to let her?

“I love you, darlin’,” Brenda said.

“I love you, too, Mom. I’m coming home.”

Squeezing the phone in my palm until I felt the ooze of sweat, I watched Flannery visibly shed the bravado that had kept her in charge of the call. Only the bare, vulnerable shell of a frightened child was left in view.

“Flan,” I said, “that didn’t go the way I thought it was going to go.”

“Me neither.”

“Really?”

She nodded. “When I heard her voice, I just wanted to go be with her.”

I tried to tread carefully. “Even though she didn’t protect you from Elgin?”

She looked up. “You obviously haven’t experienced somebody like this. He is—was—her boyfriend, but he didn’t love her. He just
controlled
her, and I didn’t ever think that could happen to my mom.”

“And that’s how he was able to be your pimp?”

“It doesn’t
matter
!
”

I put out a hand to stop her as she tried to wriggle from the chair. “It does matter. He should go to prison for what he did to you.”

“No, Allison! Just leave it alone, okay? You don’t know him. He’ll get out of it and come after us.”

Everything on her shook. I put my hands on the curls and pulled her head into my chest. A protective wave pushed me to hold her in spite of her stiffening in my arms.

“We’ll make sure you and your mom are safe. God’ll show us what to do next.”

Flannery pulled back far enough to scour my face with her eyes. “How do you know that?”

“Because I
have
experienced somebody like God, Flan. And I just know.”

CHAPTER TWELVE

Everyone got on board for me to take Flannery to her mother on Sunday. Gigi and Rochelle were going on a weekend NA retreat with Leighanne and Nita where we hoped they would be able to pair up with potential sponsors, and I wasn’t concerned about other Sisters being on their own for the day. Kade agreed to go with us, as Flannery requested, but he said he’d stay away until then so he wouldn’t “exacerbate Flannery’s romantic inclinations” toward him. He could definitely sound like a lawyer when he put his mind to it.

Desmond was the only one who balked. After I told him Thursday night that Flannery might be going home to stay, he shut himself up in his room to continue the pouting he’d already been doing for days, and he wouldn’t say a word on the way to school Friday morning. I could feel the resentment seething through my back as we rode, even though he was going to great lengths to keep from touching me all the way there. When I pulled the Classic up to the front of the school, I could almost hear Kade telling me to just let him be, but the mother voice in my head was louder.

“Jacket,” I said like I always did when I dropped him off.

“I ain’t even wearin’ it.”

I had to take off my helmet and do a double take to realize what I hadn’t before. It was the first time he hadn’t put it on, or tried to get into the building with it
still
on, since Chief gave it to him.

“How come?”

He shrugged.

“You want to try that again?” I said.

“’Cause I guess it don’t matter what your last name is on the paper or anyplace else. If you ain’t born into it, then you ain’t really family.”

I kicked the stand into place and swung my leg over the bike, just in time to curl my fingers around the retreating back of the denim jacket he
was
wearing.

“Imma be late,” he said, still facing away from me.

“I’ll go in with you and tell them you woke up sick this morning,” I said, “because you
are
sick, in the
head
,
to say something like that about me.”

He didn’t try to pull away. That was my only clue that he actually did want me to argue with him.

“This is about Flannery, isn’t it?”

I took his silence as a yes.

“I can’t make her stay here, Des.”

“You made
me.
”

“You want to rethink that statement?”

Desmond wheeled on me.

“If you let her stay home with her mama like she was, it’s gonna go right back to what she was runnin’ from—now I
know
that thing.”

I couldn’t deny it. If I didn’t already feel that in my very soul, the wisdom in my son’s eyes would have convinced me.

Resisting the urge to fold him against me, I said, “I promise you, Des, if I get even the smallest Nudge that it’s dangerous to leave her with her mother, I will find a way to bring her back. I promise you.”

He swallowed hard. “I know Flannery don’t feel the same way ’bout me as she do ’bout Cappuccino, and I been doin’ a lot of thinkin’ and prayin’ on that.”

That would account for the pouting. I felt a twinge of guilt for giving him less credit than that.

“Did you come to any conclusions?” I said.

“I don’t know ’bout no conclusions, now.” The Desmond light flickered faintly in his eyes. “But I’m feelin’ like she don’t need no more boyfriends. She had plenty that didn’t love her.” He put up a hand, lest I should misunderstand. “I ain’t talkin’ ’bout Cappuccino. He love her in a different way, but he way outta her age group.”

“Uh-huh,” I said.

“What she need is a brother, and that’s what I am.” To my surprise I saw a thin sheen of tears. “But if she go back to a mama that ain’t gonna protect her—”

I blinked against my own sheen. “I have to take her back to her mom, Des. That’s the law. But the same law says that if I see any signs that she isn’t safe, I don’t have to leave her there.”

“What if her mama won’t let you bring her back?” he said.

I was going to have to work on my poker face.

Or not. Because a soft Nudge made me open my mouth and let out the words I didn’t think of.

“Then Kade and I will try to convince her mom to come back with us so we can protect both of them until Flannery’s pimp goes to jail.”

Desmond didn’t look at all surprised. He just nodded his wonderful fuzzy head sagely. And then he knocked at the side of it with the heel of his hand.

“What was that for?” I said.

“For not knowin’ you and God woulda had this all figured out.”

“Yeah, well, before you really start beating yourself up, I didn’t know God and I had it all figured out until I said it.”

He nodded again. “That happen to me sometime too.”

“Yeah?”

“Like yesterday when I seen that Roy dude with the Mosquito in the office. He was flashin’ them teeth at her and she was all turnin’ pink, and when he left I told her she better not be gettin’ mixed up with him ’cause he bad news.”

“Desmond, you can’t be telling adults who to hang out with, especially not
that
adult.”

His voice went up into dogs-only range. “I was jus’ tryin’ to show her I don’t hate her like she hates me.”

“Do I dare ask what she said?”

He shrugged. “She tol’ me I better mind my own business.”

For once I agreed with her, but to Desmond I said, “I think the best way to show the … Coach Iseley you don’t hate her is to avoid her. I think she’ll really appreciate that.”

The first bell saved me from the argument already forming on his lips.

“Go,” I said. “Oh, and Des.”

“Yeah, Big Al?”

“Flannery couldn’t ask for a better brother.”

“That’s what I’m thinkin’,” he said, and loped on up the steps, once again like the outrageous boy I loved more than life itself.

With our meeting with Brenda not being until Sunday, I had two more days to keep Flannery off the radar. I was trying to figure that out during my quiet time on the side porch later that morning when I got a call from Jasmine.

“Miss Angel,” she said. I could practically hear her chin quivering. “I thought you oughta know that Sherry, she didn’t come home last night.”

“She might’ve stayed with her dad. Did you call the hospital?”

Jasmine sniffed. “They don’t tell nobody nothin’.”

I didn’t know whether that was a yes or a What’s the point in even trying? so I told her I would look into it.

That, of course, meant finding a place for Flannery in the meantime. I was more comfortable taking her to Second Chances now that Mercedes had stopped referring to her as “that child.” Flannery was good with that too, once I got her up and vertical. She was truly a teenager, nocturnal and all but chemically allergic to morning. I bought her a hot chocolate at Sacred Grounds, deposited her upstairs with the Sisters and the potentially cool clothes, and took off for the hospital.

I hadn’t had much chance to even think about Sherry since the day of the break-in at C.A.R.S. Hank was spending time with her when she could, and so were Bonner and India. I had to wonder now as I parked the bike and found my way to Maharry’s floor whether she would be all that happy to see me if she
was
there. Our last conversation hadn’t ended well.

I found her in the room Maharry had been moved to from ICU. She was asleep in a stiff-looking reclining chair, and he was sitting in front of a gelatinous breakfast I didn’t blame him for not eating. He nearly knocked the oxygen tube from his nose as he put his finger to his lips.

“This is the first time she’s slept since it happened,” he said.

His attempt at a whisper was loud enough to wake her with the nightmares still in her eyes. It seemed to take her a full five seconds to realize who I was. I was relieved that she didn’t bolt out of the room, but, then, she looked too exhausted to even sit up in the chair.

“Just stay there, Sher,” I said. “What can I get you?”

She shook her head, but her hair didn’t move. It was stuck to her scalp in greasy strips. Sleep wasn’t the only thing she hadn’t done since Wednesday. I could only imagine what the breath situation must be, so I poured her a glass of water and put it in her hand.

“Glad you came by,” Maharry said.

“Me, too. You don’t look like a man who had a heart attack two days ago.”

He dismissed that with a hand still attached to a tube that snaked its way out of a bottle hanging above. “It was just the shock. I’m over it now.”

“No you’re not, Daddy,” Sherry said.

“Am too. Tell her the good news.”

I looked at Sherry, who was digging crust from her eyes with her fingers. “You tell her.”

“Somebody tell me,” I said. “I want to know who’s responsible for you looking like you just won the lottery.”

It was true. Maharry’s color was better than I’d seen it since, well, since I’d known him, and although his hands still shook the way they always did, less anxiety seemed to be running under his skin.

“Your HOGs are buying C.A.R.S.,” he said.

My hand stopped halfway to the Kleenex box I was going to toss to Sherry. “I’m sorry … what?”

“Three of ’em come in here last night,” Maharry said. “What were their names, Sherry Lynn?”

She licked at lips that had to be pretty much the consistency of sand. “Stan the Man, or whatever it is Desmond calls him. Ulysses. And that guy with the weird accent.”

“Rex. He’s French.”

“I don’t care what he is as long as he’s telling me the truth,” Maharry said. “They want to buy me out and open a used motorcycle shop.”

Knowing those guys as I did, I didn’t even have to wonder if this was the real deal. I felt my hanging-open mouth move into a smile. “Are you serious? Really?”

“That’s what they said.” In spite of her obvious fatigue, Sherry did seem a thin layer lighter in spirit.

“You have to feel like the weight of the world has been taken off your shoulders, Maharry,” I said.

“Almost.” He squinted his eyes down further than I thought possible behind the thick glasses, which were, for once, sparkling clean. That alone had to make him feel better. “Only thing that’ll set everything right is if that Zelda woman will admit she let somebody take those keys and make copies.” He jabbed the tube-laden hand at me. “I told you she was smart.”

I closed my eyes but it didn’t help. My hackles still stood up.

“Why would she do that?” I said. “The cash was still there, and so was the gun, so it wasn’t a robbery.”

“She just did it to get back at me for fussin’ at her so much.”

“That makes no sense. Zelda has been fussed at all her life. I don’t think—”

“She knew that I knew she was tryin’ to take over. I told you that, too.”

I looked at Sherry, but she avoided my eyes and stomped into the bathroom and shut the door.

“When I went to lock up Tuesday night”—Maharry’s voice cracked like the dried-out lines on his face—“the keys were
not
exactly where they were when I put them there last. I am
always
careful about that.”

“That doesn’t mean Zelda took them out and had copies made and brought them back. How could she do that, Maharry? You said yourself you watched her like a hawk.”

“I know what I know!” he said, and then collapsed into a fit of convulsive coughing that brought Sherry out of the bathroom and a nurse in from the hallway. She gave Sherry a deep,
V
-between-the-eyebrows frown as she pushed me out of the way and went to her patient.

“I told you not to let him get upset,” she said to Sherry. “You two need to leave until I get him settled down.”

I had to agree. Even in the midst of choking on his own mucous, Maharry was still stabbing his hand at me.

“Come on, Sher,” I said. “I’ll buy you breakfast.”

She let me usher her down to the cafeteria and nodded at my attempt to apologize for setting her dad off. But by the time I sat her down to a less-than-appetizing plate of scrambled eggs and turkey sausage, she was awake enough to drive the wedge between us again.

“If you came here to talk about you-know-what again, Miss Angel, I’m not interested.”

“Okay,” I lied. “You want to hear what we learned about Flannery last night?”

Her nod was halfhearted, but I filled her in anyway. Gradually she stopped poking the fork into the sausage as if it threatened to attack her first. I felt only a little guilty about lulling her into a false sense of we’re-only-going-to-talk-about-safe-topics.

“So basically,” I said, “we know she was forced to work in Jacksonville for a pimp named Elgin.” Something occurred to me that hadn’t before. “You ever hear of him when you were in the life?”

For the first time since the one-sided conversation started, her eyes tracked as if she were actually seeing me.

“No,” she said. “But I’ve heard that name recently, only not in connection with that.” She seemed genuinely puzzled. And as long as we were being honest …

“Let’s talk for just a minute about you not letting the Sisters know you were going to spend the night here again.”

At once the fork poked at the rubbery eggs, and the eyes all but glazed over. “I just assumed they’d know.”

“Better not to assume,” I said. “I’ll call Jasmine for you. I think she’ll understand.”