Shannon's Hope Page 10

  I’d just paid off a drug dealer. Whose life was this?

  I called the cell phone company and got Keisha a new number, effective tomorrow, then texted it to her. I waited for a few minutes for a response, but when she didn’t reply, I went back to my job as a medical professional and counted out legal drugs that would help people control their pain and misery, regulate their chemistries, and give them a greater quality of life.

  I was shaking and nauseated most of the afternoon, and so confused about how I felt toward my husband and how to explain my reaction last night. It hadn’t made sense and what I’d said wasn’t entirely true, but it was as though I’d been holding in all this frustration and it had come out in a big, spewing rage. I didn’t have these kinds of rages. It wasn’t me. And yet it was me, and I stood behind what I said, which meant I couldn’t apologize, and yet the idea of facing John tonight made my bones hurt.

  I needed clarity. I needed to be centered, so I bought a CD of flute music at the mall and put high expectations on it as I listened to it on my way home. It was not the magic pill I’d hoped for, and yet I couldn’t stay away from home much longer. It was almost eight o’clock.

  I considered forcing a smile when I entered, but I was tired of all the falseness—most of which I had no choice but to continue playing along with. So when I pushed open the door I let myself look as tired and drained as I felt, steeling myself for either the silent treatment from my husband—which was what we’d done that morning—or another argument, which I did not feel capable of doing. Then again, maybe another argument was what I needed. I’d already let him have it last night. If it came up again, maybe I could just tell him everything—everything Keisha had told me, and everything I’d done to help her. He should have done better by her, if not when she was little, then now.

  For the split second before I entered the house, I was overcome with relief at the idea of telling him the truth. I hated keeping secrets. There would be healing that would need to take place, for sure, but I wouldn’t be burdened with this alone. That was where my anger came from last night—guilt and shame and frustration all scrunched together like a big wad of tinfoil. If I put it in front of him, I’d have a better chance of untangling it, right? But would he kick Keisha out? Was I willing to take that chance?

  I entered the kitchen with these thoughts beating my brain, then stopped in my tracks. Instead of an angry husband and tense household, Landon, Keisha, and John were sitting around the kitchen table playing Settlers of Catan—our family’s favorite board game. Keisha had just stolen the longest road from Landon and had her hand out for the card while he writhed in pain at having to give up the two points.

  John met my eyes and smiled. I didn’t know what to do with this scene, and then I saw the bouquet of flowers on the counter. A sudden lump in my throat caught me off guard. John and I had only had a few big fights in our marriage—fewer than most couples, I was sure. On the times when it was his fault, he would bring me flowers after taking the time to realize his mistake. When it was my fault, I bought him a new power tool.

  I stared at the flowers and then looked at him as he stood up from the table. Keisha sent a quick glance our way but then went back to the game—it was Landon’s turn. John came to me and put a hand on my shoulder, guiding me into the living room, away from our children. Then he faced me and managed a small smile. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

  I couldn’t talk, my resolve shaken up like a snow globe. I’d been almost ready to tell him, but now I had to rebreak the bone if I wanted to follow through on my decision to put it all on the table. Did I dare do that? Contrary to what people said about bones mending to be stronger than they were before, it wasn’t usually true.

  He reached up and touched my face. “I’ve thought about what you said, and you’re right.” He gave me a small smile with such tenderness in his eyes that I winced inside. His voice was soft, at least partly so as not to be overheard by the kids, I assumed. “I’ve let you take the lead, and in the process I haven’t stood up for my daughter the way I should. She’s done everything she can to prove herself, and I haven’t allowed her to grow in my eyes.” I understood how painful it was for him to admit that out loud. “That was wrong, and I’m sorry. She doesn’t deserve that from me, and you deserve me to do my part. I’m sorry for not seeing it on my own.”

  I stared at him, taking in the scruff of his beard, the way his pale eyelashes were almost invisible. I loved this man—he was the beginning and end of all the great things I had in my life, and yet as I stared at him, I thought of the night Keisha hadn’t come home until four in the morning. I thought of the gift card I’d purchased to cover her theft, and the money I’d withdrawn from our savings account this morning to pay off a dealer. Where anger had overcome me last night, now I was stunned with the burn of shame. I’d blasted him last night, and he’d forgiven me, just like that. I’d underestimated him. Had I underestimated him with those other things too?

  I couldn’t speak. All my words stuck in my throat as I tried to anticipate what he would say when I told him the truth. There was suddenly no doubt in my mind I would have to tell him eventually. Why had I ever thought I could hide it? Why had I wanted to? What kind of wife was I?

  He took a step toward me and cupped my face in his hands, rubbing his thumbs beneath my eyes. With the tenderness of a man who had kissed me a million times during our lives together, he gently touched his lips to mine, held them there, then pulled back in order to wrap his arms around my shoulders. I couldn’t help but wrap my arms around him as well, wishing I’d never have to let go, that we could exist in this state of doesn’t-matter forever. I laid my head on his chest, closed my eyes, and wondered what on earth I was supposed to do now.

  I opened my eyes to see Keisha standing in the doorway. She wasn’t smiling as she looked at us; instead, she looked . . . sad. Why? And then Landon popped his head out from behind her and started making gagging noises. I felt the rumble of John’s laughter in his chest before I heard it, then he pulled away and looked deep into my eyes again. “Are we okay?” he whispered. Landon writhed on his deathbed behind us, flopping on the floor in agony.

  I still couldn’t speak, so I just nodded. John’s soft smile grew a little more, and he leaned in to kiss me once more while Landon said “I. Am. Dead!” before giving one last death spasm and going still, his tongue hanging out of his mouth. John turned to look at him, at which point Landon’s eyes popped open, narrowed playfully. “It’s your turn, lover boy.”

  John laughed again, and when I looked at Keisha again she smiled slightly. I knew she couldn’t understand the weight of what I hadn’t told John; maybe she thought I had told him, but I hoped she understood the sacrifice I was making for her.

  Chapter 17

  Friday, two days after the flowers, I was just getting into the shower when I noticed I’d missed a call from Aunt Ruby. I smiled, excited to hear about her trip, but I decided to call her back when I was on my way into work. It wasn’t until I was in the shower that I realized she’d called really early in the morning—which was strange. I hoped nothing was wrong and hurried to get ready so I could find out.

  Keisha was asleep when I left for work—she’d worked until six a.m.—and John had left for a job. I put in my earpiece for my phone and called my voice mail to listen to Aunt Ruby’s message.

  “Hi, Shannon. I’m back from Greece. It was a wonderful trip; I’ll have to tell you all about it soon. I’m actually calling because I can’t find my laptop. I left it at the house, but it’s not where I put it. I thought maybe you borrowed it or something. Give me a call when you can. Thanks.”

  Borrowed her laptop? Why would I borrow her laptop? Besides, it was a PC and I was a Mac girl myself. Once you Mac-ed, you never went back. I erased her voice mail and called her number.

  “Hi, Aunt Ruby,” I said when she answered. “I just got your message. Are you sure your laptop isn’t there somewhere?”

  “I stored it in one of the k
itchen cabinets when I left. I know I did because I had to put my mixer on the counter to make room, but I thought a mixer was safer in plain sight than a computer, you know? It’s not there. The whole shelf is empty. You didn’t borrow it?”

  “No,” I said with a smile. Storing a computer in a cupboard was silly—a laptop wasn’t like a cup of sugar you borrowed on a whim. “And I never saw it during the times I came to check on things. I always locked the house up when I left, I swear.”

  “The security system recorded each time you disarmed it, and I know the alarm was reset correctly each time too, which is just so strange. How would anyone have gotten in without tripping the alarm? Do you think someone could have bypassed it?”

  “I didn’t get any notifications.” Because of the security measures at the pharmacy, I knew a lot about security systems. They weren’t impossible to disable, but most of them were set up with all kinds of internal safeguards to protect against tampering, and most attempts couldn’t circumvent the system without leaving telltale evidence behind or an automatic call going to the dispatch center. At the pharmacy, the police were called if the code was punched incorrectly just two times, or outside of specific hours, and every employee had their own code so that we always knew who set or disarmed it. But of course, Aunt Ruby’s house didn’t have such a sophisticated system.

  “Is anything else missing?” I still thought the laptop was in her house somewhere.

  “Um, I haven’t really checked, since I thought you’d just borrowed it. I’ll go look right now. I don’t leave valuables out, you know, especially when I’m going to be gone.” I could hear her walking as she talked. “I locked up my jewelry box in the safe, along with some of my more expensive souvenirs I’ve collected over the years. Everything looks fine . . . oh, wait . . . someone’s been in the master closet—that’s where I keep the safe. My shoes are mixed up.”

  Maybe the laptop had been stolen. “Did they get into the safe?” I asked, sick to my stomach not only that something like this had happened to Ruby, but also that it had happened on my watch.

  “No,” Aunt Ruby said. I let out a breath. “But it looks like they tried to pry it open.”

  A missing laptop, mixed-up shoes, and a safe that had been tampered with, and yet there wasn’t any evidence of a break-in at her house? I opened my mouth to ask if anyone else had the alarm code and then nearly choked on the words. I had the alarm code stuck to the fridge with an Oreo magnet. Heat crawled up my neck. No, I told myself. Don’t go there.

  “You said you looked at the history,” I said a moment later, “and could see that I reset the alarm each time I came over. How many times does it show I came?”

  Three, three, three.

  “Four,” Ruby said. She listed off the dates—the second and third stood out to me because they were the only two days right next to one another. There was no reason for me to go to Ruby’s two days in a row. I’d only gone every three or four days—the last time had been Monday, the day before the meltdown with Keisha. I closed my eyes, refusing to picture Keisha in my mind looking at the fridge while sipping a soda a few days into Aunt Ruby’s trip. I’d thought she was looking at the newsletter from Landon’s school.

  “I’m going to call the alarm company right now,” Aunt Ruby said. “Maybe they’ll have a more complete report for me by now.”

  Sympathy for Aunt Ruby made my chest ache, but I couldn’t share my thoughts. That wouldn’t be fair to anyone, least of all to Aunt Ruby if I were wrong—and I had to be wrong. “Do you want me to come over and stay with you? Do you feel safe there alone?”

  “I’ll be fine, dear. Thanks for asking. And thank you for watching the place.”

  It was like a knife in my chest to have her thank me when I knew what had happened. Wait—I didn’t know. But I suspected it all the same. And that made me feel horrible too. Did I really think Keisha was a thief? She loved Ruby. She would never rob her—would she? And Keisha had been so sincerely upset earlier this week before I agreed to pay off Tagg. If she’d stolen Ruby’s laptop, she wouldn’t need money from me, right? I had to be wrong. Of course I was wrong.

  “It seems I didn’t do a very good job of looking after the house,” I said, feeling terrible for everything—both what had happened and thinking Keisha might have been involved.

  “Nonsense,” Aunt Ruby said. “This is obviously the work of a professional. I suppose no security system is completely foolproof. I’d better go though. I’ve got more phone calls to make.”

  “I’m so sorry, Aunt Ruby. If you need anything, I can be there right away.”

  “I’ll call if I think of anything, but I’m sure I’ll get to the bottom of it.”

  We said our good-byes and ended the call. I was at a red light and picked up my phone from the middle console before scrolling to Keisha’s number. My thumb hovered over the call button. I should just call her and ask her straight out. But what would I say? “Did you break into my aunt’s house and steal her laptop after she’s been so sweet to you?” Was there any way to ask it that didn’t sound accusatory? I had no evidence it was Keisha, just circumstance and history. And was that fair? Gosh, I was as bad as John!

  But was it fair to Aunt Ruby not to explore it?

  I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. The light turned green, I replaced the phone in the console, and I moved forward with my fellow commuters.

  Chapter 18

  It was a busy day at work, and then I had to hurry home to make dinner for most of the lacrosse team and their parents. It had been just a meeting where John would hand out schedules and call lists until I suggested making it a dinner. I’d been so distracted lately that it felt like an opportunity for me to make things up to him and Landon. And then I’d gotten the call from Ruby.

  Nothing helped keep my mind busy like twenty-five extra people in my backyard, though, and John and Landon were both grateful about all my efforts. Keisha was at work during the whole thing, but I managed to fall asleep before she got off her shift thanks to a busy day and a busy evening and a busy mind. Though I fell asleep easily, I woke up, restless, around five o’clock in the morning, and finally got out of bed at six.

  I was working in Long Beach from ten until three so I headed to Aunt Ruby’s house early, desperately wanting to make things okay. Keisha had left fifty dollars from her tip money on the front seat of my car—it was how she paid me back without John asking questions. She was trying so hard to do the right thing, and I felt awful for thinking the worst of her in regard to Ruby’s missing laptop.

  Aunt Ruby was an early riser, and though I worried the jet lag might have her sleeping in, the drapes on the front window were open when I pulled up a little after eight o’clock. She’d always said the day didn’t start until she could see the sky. She seemed happy to see me and immediately updated me on the theft—nothing else was missing, as far as she could tell. The security company was coming over later to make sure everything was okay with her system.

  She poured me some juice and then listened to my version of events. I kind of glossed over the exact dates of when I came over and hoped she wouldn’t ask pointed questions. I didn’t know how to handle this, and being vague seemed to be the best choice. I worried she’d ask for specifics, but other than asking if I had noticed anything out of the ordinary during any of my visits—which I hadn’t—she didn’t ask me any questions I couldn’t answer.

  Once we finished, she insisted on making muffins, and even though I worried they wouldn’t be ready before I had to leave, she started putting them together anyway. I sat down at the counter and updated her on our family and how Landon’s basketball season had gone, glad to feel that even amid my worries and the theft of her laptop, we were okay with each other.

  I finished telling her about the team party last night and then noticed a book on her counter. Uncle Phillip had been a buyer and seller for antiques—international, hard-to-find antiques—and Aunt Ruby’s home was filled with beautiful pieces from all over the wor
ld and dating back hundreds of years in some instances. And yet, despite the aged furniture and décor, nothing ever looked used. Except this book. It had a ratty cover, and the pages were expanded as though it had been around too much moisture. It seemed completely out of place. I picked it up and read the title: Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance.

  Motorcycle maintenance? I glanced at Ruby and imagined her in coveralls with grease smudges on her face while she took apart the transmission of a cherry-red Harley Softail. The idea made me smile.

  “What’s this book?”

  She turned around too quickly, and a momentary expression of shock crossed her face as she looked at me holding the book. I pulled my eyebrows together. Aunt Ruby was rarely ruffled, but she was suddenly very ruffled . . . much like the pages of this book.

  She explained that it was from the tour guide—Gabriel—and he’d snuck it into her bag, but she said it with a forced giggle that caught my attention even more.

  “Have you ever heard of such a strange title?” she continued. Were her cheeks turning pink?

  “Gabriel’s the tour guide?”

  “Well, he’s part-owner with his sister, Maria, but he also works as a guide on a lot of the Greece tours.”

  Her cheeks were definitely pink, and I couldn’t hold back my own curiosity any longer. “Aunt Ruby, I think you’re blushing.”

  She stammered and turned back to the counter, focusing on the muffins.

  “Do you have a picture of him on your phone?” I asked. I eyed her cell phone, which was within reach of me, though I’d never be so forward as to grab it on my own.