Death, and the Girl He Loves

I stepped to him, trying to contain my glee. “It’s good to see you.”

“It’s good to see you, too,” he said. His face resembled my father’s—the red hair, the soft gray eyes, the scruffy jaw—so much so, I wanted to touch it, to run my hands over his stubble.

Without waiting another moment, he pulled me into his arms and hugged me to him.

“Mac,” my grandfather—my other grandfather—said at my back. I looked over my shoulder as Mac shook hands with him first then my grandmother while keeping me locked in his embrace. “It’s been a long time.”

“Yes, it has,” Mac said. “I wanted to thank you for all you’ve done.” He gave me a hard squeeze and kissed the top of my head.

“It was our pleasure,” Granddad said. “I can assure you.”

“And these are my friends,” I said, a tad ecstatic. I took turns introducing them, not quite sure how to introduce Kenya, but when I got to Jared, Mac’s expressions change. Jared’s did, too. A knowing air came over their faces. A recognition.

Jared held out his hand, but Mac stepped back a little and gave him a once-over, offering him the most devilish grin I’d ever seen. Then he took Jared’s hand in a firm shake, as though thanking him. As though grateful.

“We’ve met,” he said to me.

“Yes, sir,” Jared said, matching Mac’s attitude, devilish grin for devilish grin. “We have.”

“I owe you for this,” Mac said, indicating his surroundings.

“It’s a present.” Jared gestured toward me. “For that one.”

“What do you mean?” I asked them, burning to be let in on the secret.

But apparently Cameron knew more than the rest of us. “That’s what you were up to last night,” he said to Jared, his lids narrowing. “You broke him out of prison.”

Several soft gasps echoed in the room as Mac’s expression confirmed Cameron’s suspicions.

“He sure did,” Mac said.

Jared lifted one shoulder, dismissing the whole thing. “I just set into motion a series of events that would give someone who was, say, very alert the means to slip by a few guards unnoticed.”

“You really escaped from prison?” Brooke asked.

“Yes, ma’am, I did,” he said to her, “with a little help.” Then he planted a resentful gaze on Jared. “But really? The garbage collections? You couldn’t come up with a better escape route?”

Jared quirked one brow. “Seemed like a good idea at the time.”

“Now that you’re here,” Granddad said to Mac, “can you tell us anything about this journal?”

Mac’s smile faded when he spotted it. “Lucas found it.”

Lucas, my dad. “Was it yours?” I asked. “There’s blood on it.”

We’d stunned him. He didn’t respond for a long while, then he said, “That would be your grandmother’s blood.”

Every muscle in my body grew rigid.

“I found it stuffed into the waistband of her pants when I found her.” His eyes watered with the memory. “I had no idea whose it was. I figured she’d found it and hid it from the men who took her, so I put it in the floorboards of the house after the shoot-out that night before the cops got there. I didn’t think I was going to survive. I didn’t want to survive.” It took him a moment to gather himself. I laced my fingers into his and he looked down at me with a love I was certain I didn’t deserve. My grandmother had died protecting me. How could he get past that? How could he love me still? “When I was recovering in the hospital,” he continued, “handcuffed to the bed, I told your dad where to find it. I was never certain if he did or not.”

“What is it?” Brooke asked, angling for a better view.

“Sadly, I had no idea why Olivia stashed it. It’s just a bunch of drawings. Nothing important that I could tell. But you,” he said, setting me at arm’s length, his expression stern. “You can figure it out, I’m certain.”

I shook my head, but he took my chin into a soft grip.

“Do you think I escaped prison to watch the world end, Lorelei?” When I shrugged, he said, “I’m here to watch you succeed, Pix. I can feel the doubt inside you, but there is none inside me. Not an inkling.”

I wanted to list all the ways I was going to fail him, to fail them all, but now was not the time and we were interrupted anyway.

“We’re going to head out,” a man said through the basement opening. Mr. Gibson, an elder member of our church, took a few steps down and poked his head through the opening. “Glad to have you back, Lorelei.”

“Thanks, Mr. G.”

Granddad called up to him, “Don’t key my truck again.”

“Bill,” he said, seeming exasperated. “I only keyed Vera’s car. I had nothing to do with that picture of Satan on your fender.”

They were clearly kidding, but it caused a quake of regret inside me. Granddad sensed it and put an arm around me to pull me closer.

“Don’t you dare, Pix,” he said softly at my ear. “Doing the right thing is not always the easy thing.”

I nodded, pretending to brush it off, pretending to agree.

* * *

Exhaustion set in soon after people started leaving. Betty Jo wrapped me in her bearlike embrace before heading out. I didn’t want Brooke or Glitch to leave, but they seemed dead set on doing that very thing. We all promised to see each other at school the next day, because in my grandparents’ excitement, they reenrolled me. I tried to look excited when they told me, but when they laughed softly to themselves, I realized how badly I’d failed. And even though they said I didn’t have to go since the world was about to end and all, I decided I wanted to go. I wanted my old life back, even if it was only for a few hours.