If You're Lucky (15 page)

As soon as I got home from Dr. Saul's I went into my room and called Sonia. “Can I come over?” I asked. “I need to talk to you right away.”

“Sure, I have something I want to tell you too.”

My stomach dropped.

“Where are you going?” my mom asked as I took Rocket's leash from a hook at the door and whistled for him.

“Sonia's.”

“I think you should stay home. I . . .”

“No.” I darted out the door on shaky legs.

We walked down the hill to Sonia's. I realized I'd forgotten a jacket. When Sonia opened the door, Rocket charged around her house, looking for Fin, whose scent was probably everywhere. Sonia looked different. Besides the burgundy hair and the bright red lips, I couldn't quite put my finger on what was different about her. And then I remembered that she was pregnant.

“Are you okay?” she asked. “You're shaking.”

“No. Can we go down to the beach?”

“Sure. You need a jacket. Here.” She handed me her jean jacket and I pulled it on. It smelled like the perfume she'd started wearing. She pulled a wool sweater over her head and we started quickly down the hill toward the beach together.

I didn't waste any time. I didn't think I had much.

“Look, I know I've been acting strange. I know you probably don't think of me as a sane person right now but I need you to know some things about Fin.”

“Like what?” We crossed the highway and I looked around quickly for any sign of Fin's truck.

“I think Fin killed Lucky. I do. I know that sounds nuts to you but hear me out.”

“No! Stop it, George! You've got to stop this.”

We were standing in the sand now, facing each other. I took her hands in mine. “I don't have time to tell you everything right now, but I will, I promise. The important thing is that you know that he's dangerous.”

She shook her head and yanked her hands out of mine. “Goddamnit, George! You ruin everything, you know that? No wonder Lucky was always traveling. You drove him crazy.”

“No, no, no.” I was starting to babble. “This is different, just listen.”

“No. I won't. You listen to me. I'm pregnant.”

I stared at her. Even though I'd known for weeks, to hear her say it was like a punch in the stomach.

“Georgia, I'm having a baby. I mean
we
are.”

Tears appeared, streaming down my cheeks.

“Fin wants us to have a life together right here in False Bay.”

I looked away. My eyes traveled far down the beach to where Rocket was chasing seagulls. I remembered that first day we ran into Fin on the beach. Fin had robbed me of everything good in my life. I couldn't think of anything except how Lucky would feel about this, how devastated he would be.

“And there's more . . .” she said.

I braced myself.

“We're getting married.” She put her hands on my shoulders like she was physically trying to stop me from reacting the way she probably knew I would.

“Married?”

“Yes! Be happy for me, please be happy for me.”

I couldn't be happy for her. This meant that Fin was all the way in now. No one could doubt him now that he was about to start a family. How absolutely perfect, the girlfriend of False Bay's favorite son. He couldn't have devised it any better.

“He's dangerous, Sonia.” I could feel myself getting wound up. I wanted to stop but I couldn't. I was afraid for her. I was afraid for me too. “My brother dies and suddenly this guy who obviously loves you magically turns up like there's a job opening and he's
just
the guy to fill it and nothing about that strikes you as odd? I know things about him that you don't know. He came to the hospital. He threatened me!”

“I'm leaving.” She trudged up the beach. I ran behind her and yanked her back. Her eyes burned. She grabbed me by my shoulders and looked directly into my eyes. “Georgia, you
have
to stop this, okay? I get it. Things have been tough for you around here but please, just stop. I know Fin. I love him.”

I looked down at my feet. She dropped her arms to her sides and I looked up. Her eyes were closed.

“You're still hanging on to Lucky so tight. You have to let him go.” She opened her eyes.

“I can't,” I said.

“I think he'd want me to be happy. Don't you?”

“Next time I see him I'll be sure to ask him.” I turned abruptly and started walking briskly away from her.

“George!” she called my name again and again. I kept walking, up the beach away from her. I wanted to be far away from her. Rocket ran alongside me, looking up at me, confused.

It wasn't Sonia's fault Fin showed up in False Bay, but maybe just this once I was right about something. I wasn't crazy. Fin wanted all of this. He wanted everything Lucky had. He wanted it enough to kill him.

I had to find proof, though, and I had to find it fast or no one would ever believe me.

“Honey, I think it's time to wash that T-shirt,” said my mom. She sat across from me at the kitchen table with a mug of tea.

I looked down at Lucky's shirt. It was white once but now it was a dull gray. Bugs Bunny had a smear of something brown across his ears. Still, I couldn't take it off. My headaches were all gone, but now there were whisperings in my head. Sometimes they were louder than other times but they specifically told me that the shirt stays on. I tapped away on my laptop. I tapped the floor with my foot.

“What are you working on there?” asked my mom.

“Nothing.”

“Your fingers are moving awfully fast for someone who's doing nothing.”

“Mom, please.”

I stood up with my laptop still open.

“Where are you going?” asked my mom. “Your dad and I want to talk to you about . . .”

“No!” I said. “No hospitals.” I could feel her worry as she watched me walk away.

I went into my bedroom and closed the door. I was running out of time. I needed to get real proof that Fin killed my brother, and I couldn't do it with someone staring at me with a furrowed brow. Ever since I'd spoken to Professor Hastings that day, I'd been wondering about Kelly Hastings, his brother. He'd said that Kelly and Fin went to Julliard together. I kept wondering about what had happened to Kelly. Why hadn't Professor Hastings offered me his brother's phone number if they were friends? I'd tried a few searches online, but I hadn't been able to find the right Kelly Hastings. Suddenly, an idea occurred to me. I typed in his name again, and “New York” and “obituary.” There it was. My pulse quickened.

Kelly Hastings was dead.

The obituary said that he had died in a rock climbing accident four years earlier. He was survived by his loving family: His father, Winston Hastings (founder of the Hastings Foundation, a nonprofit organization whose mission it is to award college scholarships to underprivileged children or children from foster families); his mother, Mavis Hastings, who was head of the board of trustees for Carnegie Hall; and his brother, Sam Hastings, a professor at NYU. I was sure now that Kelly Hastings was the boy in the photos I'd found in the redwood cottage: the one on the boat and the one in the candid photos. There had been another “accident,” and another friend of Fin's was dead. A coincidence? No way.

I lay there on my bed, pondering all of this. It was becoming harder and harder to concentrate, but I forced myself to focus. I clicked on the icon for the video Jesse had sent me. I kept it on my desktop but I hadn't looked at it in a few weeks. Suddenly Lucky was alive on my screen. Tears welled up instantly. I watched him laughing. I missed him so much. The void he left was bad enough, but it was worse that I felt powerless to stop what was happening around me. Lucky was counting on me and I was failing miserably.

Something in the video caught my eye, and I paused on an image of Lucky. There it was, there was no mistaking it: Lucky was wearing the necklace with the fearlessness charm. I pressed “play” again. Lucky and all of his friends, including Fin, grabbed their boards and jogged to the water's edge. Jesse followed them with the camera. Just as Lucky stepped into the water, I paused it again. Lucky was still wearing the necklace. Fin told me that Lucky gave him that necklace, but that wasn't possible. Lucky died that day. A tear rolled down my cheek. Had Fin taken the necklace, from my brother's neck after he was dead, or did he do it while he was drowning him? I pulled the necklace out of the front pocket of my jeans and hooked the silver clasp around my neck. I touched the charm. I had to talk to Sonia again, but I had no idea how to make her listen to me.

A wall of exhaustion hit me. I sprawled on the sofa with the intention of shutting my eyes for a minute. I wanted to think about what to do next. I woke up hours later. I sat up and rubbed my eyes. My glasses were on the table. I put them on and looked around the room. Rocket looked up at me from where he'd been sleeping on the floor. The rest of the house was dark, and the door to my mom and dad's bedroom was closed. The TV was still on. A blond woman in a crisp red suit was reading the news. I found the remote under the pillow. I was about to click the TV off when something the newswoman was saying caught my attention.

“A young local man was found drowned off the coast of Northern California near Laurel Point this afternoon. Police are not releasing his name until the victim's family has been notified. Police are unclear as to what caused the man to drown. He's said to have been an excellent swimmer. The police are asking anyone who may have been in the area at the time to come forward. The young man was with a group of his friends on the beach this afternoon. Police have taken reports from all but one of them. They are working to locate that man. As of now he is still at large. Police are saying that foul play has not been ruled out in the victim's drowning.”

I stared at the TV. The TV newswoman was looking directly at me. She was talking to me. She was sending me a message. It was important that I didn't screw it up. Not this time.

I had to figure out what to do. I had to figure out whom to tell. I had to do it soon, or more people would die.

“I won't screw it up this time,” I said to the newswoman.

Fine. I'd been mistaken about the drifter at Ralph's gas station, but there had been another time, when I was in fifth grade, that things could have turned out differently. I became obsessed with a girl in my grade named Portia. She and I lived in completely different worlds. She was a junior beauty queen and perfectly suited for pageant life. Her long black hair was always brushed to a sheen and held back with pretty hair bands. I was already “the weird kid,” all legs and teeth. I wore thick glasses and I dressed like a boy. I used to stand by my locker and watch Portia float down the school hallway with an entourage of girls who were pale imitations of her.

At the beginning of sixth grade, I arrived at school to the news that Portia had vanished from her house the night before. The entire school was buzzing. Search parties were organized, flyers were posted everywhere, volunteers sprang into action. I became completely preoccupied with the missing girl and I watched all the interviews on the TV news. Portia's parents were divorced. Portia's mom, a former beauty queen herself who ran a nail salon, dramatically implored the kidnapper to “bring her baby back safe.” Portia's dad, who was now remarried and living in North Carolina, came back and headed up the command center. I watched him closely on TV. He had a way of looking away whenever he mentioned his daughter's name. I told my mom that I thought Portia's dad was hiding something. She wouldn't take me seriously.

The story eventually died down and people stopped talking about it, but I kept thinking about Portia and where she could be.

A few years later, a woman in North Carolina saw a teenage girl buying nails and screws at a hardware store. The girl looked like the artist's rendering of the now fourteen-year-old Portia she'd seen on a TV show called
Missing Persons,
except her long black hair had been cut short. The woman called the cops, and a SWAT team surrounded Portia's dad's house, which was two blocks from the hardware store. They found Portia in the basement. She'd been drugged, brainwashed, and held prisoner by her wingnut dad and his crazy wife. Portia was back on the TV news, looking pale and haunted as she quietly described her horrible existence. While Portia was gone, her mom had married a cop from the case and they'd had a baby girl together. The new family looked really uncomfortable together on TV.

“I could have saved her,” I said to the TV newswoman.

My dad opened the bedroom door.

“Hi, Dad.”

“It's late,” he said

I looked over at the clock. It was three a.m.

“Sorry.”

“Who were you talking to?”

“No one.”

“Please, George, just go to bed.”

I pulled my clothes off and got into bed. I finally fell asleep, but my eyes flew open again just as the sky was growing light. I got up and pulled on some sweats and Lucky's Bugs Bunny T-shirt and left the house quickly. My dad would be up soon. I knew that if I hung around, he and my mom would definitely put me in the hospital. I trotted down the hill toward the Heron to hide out and do some baking, at least till my mom went into her studio to work. I needed some time to figure out what to do next.

I smelled bacon when I came in the back door of the Inn. Karl looked up from the grill when he heard me come in.

“Hey.” He looked around quickly. “Look, I shouldn't be telling you this but Jeff and Miles are mega-pissed at you.”

“Yeah? Why?”

I walked into the pantry and grabbed my apron and my clogs.

“You don't even know?”

“No, I don't even know. Tell me.”

“The muffins, man. You didn't do the muffins.”

How could I have forgotten to bake the muffins?

“Oh, shit, right.”

Why was he looking at me like that? What did he know?

“Plus, they ran out of dessert like two days ago. Guess you didn't leave enough in the walk-in. Marc had to whip up a bunch of crème brûlée, so he wants you dead. You look like shit, by the way, maybe worse than shit.”

“Shut up.” Coming here was a bad idea.

Karl shrugged and went back to work.

The swinging door flew open and Jeff appeared, carrying a coffee mug. It was too late to run.

“Georgia,” he said crisply. “Finally. Thank you for stopping by.”

“Sorry, I guess I lost track of my days.” How many days had it been?

“You lost track of your days? How does that happen?” He wrinkled up his nose. “Have you showered lately?”

No. I had not.

“Look, if you're going to fire me, fire away.”

“Didn't you get my phone messages? I must have left about ten.”

“I lost my phone.” As I was saying that I realized that it was true. I hadn't seen my phone in days. Had someone stolen it? Who? Fin?

“As I've said before, I'm really sorry about Lucky, and I'm sure it's all been very hard on you, but we need someone making desserts that we can count on, and, well, lately, you seem a bit . . .”

Just then Fin strolled into the kitchen like he'd been standing outside, waiting for just the right moment. He looked at me and then at Jeff and Karl. “I'm sensing some tension in this kitchen.”

I spun around to face him. I reared up and unleashed all of my pent-up anxiety and frustration on him. “How did you kill Kelly Hastings?” I shouted.

Fin's eyes flickered but he composed himself. “Who?” he asked.

“You know who. Did you get him to trust you first, just like Lucky trusted you?”

Jeff and Karl looked from Fin to me and back to Fin.

“My brother told me everything. He showed me how you killed him. I know what you did. I already told Sonia too.”

“George, I think maybe we need to get you out of here,” Fin said. “Why don't you let me drive you home?” He lunged toward me.

I grabbed a knife out of the knife block on the prep table and waved it at him. “Stay away from me,” I shouted. He took a step back.

Jeff and Karl took a step back too. “Georgia,” said Jeff. “Please put the knife down. Get your things and get out of here, or I'll call the police.”

“Fine!” I let the knife clatter to the floor. I balled up my apron and hurled it into the pantry.

“And you know what?” I spat. “I don't need this job. I'm too busy for this shit. Things are going down around here that no one sees but me. Things like
that
guy,” I pointed at Fin, “is a murderer. He killed my brother.”

Fin looked amused but he didn't move.

“And I'm the only one around here who seems to care while the rest of you blow smoke up his ass. And keeping track of it all? That is a full-time job! I don't have time for things like . . . like baking fucking cupcakes.”

“Muffins,” said Jeff quietly.

Karl snorted.

“Shut up, Karl!” I said, looking menacingly at him. He took another step back. I grabbed my backpack and got out of there.

I walked quickly south, up the side of the highway, away from the Inn, away from False Bay. I looked over my shoulder every few seconds. I took deep breaths. I tried to calm down. I had to get off the main road. I turned off the highway onto a road lined with redwoods that took me inland. The road looked familiar but I wasn't sure I knew it. I needed to find a place to rest and get something to drink. I was so thirsty and so tired. I needed to map out a plan. I had to get organized. If I went home, my mom would take me to the hospital. I couldn't go there. I had no job, nowhere to go, nothing to do, no one who loved me. I longed to talk to Lucky. He would know what to do. He always did. One thing I knew for sure, though: Fin would come for me and it would be soon. I had to go underground.

My feet were getting heavy, but I kept walking. About a half mile up the road I came to a campground I recognized. It was the same campground where Lucky's friends had stayed when we had the party. I walked quickly along the perimeter, not wanting to be seen. There were a few tents set up at campsites. A couple of campers were cooking breakfast on fire pits and the smell of woodsmoke filled the air. I kept walking till I found an unoccupied campsite away from the campers. I took my backpack off and sat down at a wooden picnic table. The sun streamed through the redwoods. There was a water spigot not far away. I got up stiffly and walked over to it, turned it on, and cupped my hands under the cool running water to splash it onto my face. Then I kneeled under the spigot and drank.

Back at the picnic table I looked through my backpack. There wasn't much in there. I had my wallet but there was only three dollars in it. I had a half a pack of gum, Lucky's book, his Swiss Army Knife, a Bic lighter, and a pen. I tried to think of what to do next. It was getting harder and harder to focus. My brain played tricks on me, feeding me a thought that seemed to make sense for a second and then confusing me by pelting me with hundreds of thoughts, so many that I couldn't sort through them, I couldn't choose.

On the inside back cover of the book, I wrote down a list of things I needed to do:

1. Find someone I can trust—
Sharona
? If something happens to me, someone else needs to know the truth.

2. Get something to defend myself with, a weapon—
A gun
?
From where?

3. Plan an escape route—If I kept traveling inland, maybe I could hitch a ride.

4. Get some money out of the bank—
How? Use my Culinary Institute fund?

5. Get shelter somewhere safe, just for now
—Where?

“You mind if I sit down?”

I spun around. An old guy wearing camouflage pants, hiking boots, and a backpack was approaching. He carried a gnarled walking stick.

“Easy there. Didn't mean to scare ya.”

I looked around the campground. There were lots of empty picnic tables.

“I wouldn't mind a little company,” he said. Had he read my mind?

“Uh, sure, okay.”

“Whatcha got there?” he said, picking up my book as he sat down. “Vonnegut?”

“It's actually not mine. Please put it down.”

He set it down. “Vonnegut's good. That's not his best but it's not bad. You want some beef jerky?”

“No, thanks.”

He pulled out a small ziplock plastic bag and popped a piece in his mouth. “Nice day. You live around here?”

“Why do you want to know where I live?”

“Just making conversation. I live in Petaluma. I'm just passing through here. I found some nice trails up there through the redwoods.” He pointed.

“Are you alone?” I looked around quickly.

“Yes.”

“Who do you work for?”

“I work for myself. I'm a doctor, semiretired. I like to get out on my days off. My wife passed away a few years ago and I bought a backpack and I just started walking. Now I can't seem to stop.” He chuckled.

That sounded like something he said a lot. Maybe it was something he said so that people wouldn't feel sorry for him, a lonely old widower, walking through the woods by himself. Or maybe it was all a lie. Maybe Dr. Saul had sent him.

“Do you know Dr. Saul?” I narrowed my eyes.

“Dr. Saul? No, I don't think so. What kind of doctor is he?”

“A shrink.”

He looked at me differently now. “I'm a pediatrician.”

I looked up through the trees. Something blue dangling from a tree branch caught my eye. I realized that it was a blue flipper. This was the oak tree where Lucky's friends had hung all the mementos. The doctor looked over at the tree.

“What is that?”

“A flipper.”

“A flipper? Are you sure? What would a flipper be doing hanging from a coast live oak tree?”

He seemed like the kind of guy who took pride in always getting the names of things correct, a smarty-pants.

“My brother died surfing. His friends hung a bunch of stuff in that tree, stuff to remember him by.”

“I'm very sorry. When did he die?”

I shook my head vigorously. I didn't like what was happening. “I don't remember.”

He looked at me closely. “Hey, are you feeling okay?”

“Not really.”

“Where are your parents?”

“I don't know.”

“Are they at home?”

“My parents are working. They work. Why all the questions?”

“Do they know you're here? Can I call them for you? Do you need help?”

“No, no, and no.”

It occurred to me suddenly that it was kind of odd how he came up to me like that, out of nowhere, all casual and wanting to sit with me. Maybe he even followed me here. Maybe he worked for Fin. My scalp went all prickly. Maybe word was out that I was trying to go underground.

“You know, I think I
will
call my mom. Can I borrow your cell phone for a minute?”

“Yeah, sure.” He unzipped the pocket of his backpack and handed me his phone.

“Thanks.” I grabbed my pack and started walking away from the picnic table.

“Hey, where are you going?”

I started walking faster.

“Georgia!”

How did he know my name? I hadn't told him my name.

I started running.