Spooky Little Girl (27 page)

“No,”
Nola insisted, her voice harsher. “You erased my pictures to get back at me, but I know the truth. She’s been in this house. I know it.
I just saw it
. Just tell me the truth!”

“I didn’t do anything to get back at you. That’s ridiculous,” Martin replied, his voice growing louder. “I didn’t take any pictures. I told you once that I have not seen her, and I will tell you again. I have not seen Lucy. I do not know where she is. Now I have to get to work. There are big problems and they need me.”

“Look,” Nola demanded, and Lucy heard some scuffling.
“Look
. I will prove it. I will prove it to you.”

“Nola, stop it,” Martin demanded as Nola pulled him toward the bathroom. “Let me go. Nola,
let go.”

From the hallway, Lucy heard hurried footsteps, and Nola appeared first, pulling Martin by his wrist.

“I will show you,” she insisted. “Because I saw it. I saw it, Martin! She was just in here, wasn’t she?”

She had just reached the bathroom doorway, when Tulip, who had gotten spooked by the yelling and the footsteps, made the wrong decision and tried to run to the bathroom to hide from the commotion. Tulip collided with Nola, who’d been pulling Martin and walking backward down the hall. Tulip dashed under her feet,
and Nola lost her grip on Martin. There was no way that Nola could have stopped as she toppled backward and, trying to regain her balance, fell forward, smacking her face against the bathroom doorjamb as the digital picture frame slipped from her other hand and tumbled to the floor.

Red was everywhere instantly, as if a paintball had popped. It was smudged on the doorjamb, and smeared on Nola’s lip and chin. It was not a lot of blood, Lucy realized, but the appearance and color of it was vibrant and striking.

“That dog,” Nola said as she grimaced, holding her lip. “Get rid of that dog, Martin. That dog is the reason she keeps coming back! It’s her dog, and if she’s not going to take care of it, I’m not taking care of it, either!”

“Tulip just got scared, Nola,” Martin said, gathering a towel and pressing it on Nola’s split lip. “It was an accident, just an accident.”

“Really?” Nola quickly snarled and pointed to the bathroom mirror. “Is
that
an accident?”

The mirror was clear, steam-free. Lucy’s message had evaporated with every last drop of moisture.

Martin exhaled deeply and shrugged out of frustration.

“This has got to stop,” he said, shaking his head. “I don’t know where this is coming from. I know you’ve had your issues with Lucy, but I have nothing to do with that. These accusations are getting a little nuts.”

“You’re telling me you didn’t see that?” Nola cried. “You didn’t see it? Right in front of your face and you didn’t see the writing on the mirror? Come on, Martin, now who’s a little nuts? It was
right there
. I saw it!
She was just here!”

“I don’t know what you saw,” he replied. “But I do know I am getting tired of this. There was no one in the bathroom with me, especially not Lucy Fisher. I think I probably would have seen her.”

“She has been in this house. The mailman even saw her!” Nola yelled. “Lucy stickers were everywhere. They were on my Coffee-mate!”

“I think maybe it’s time you talked to somebody you know?” Martin said, handing the bloodied towel to Nola and walking out of the bathroom. “We’re going to have to talk about this later, because I have to go to work now. But I will tell you that this situation is getting out of control. You need to figure it out, Nola. Figure it out.”

And with that, Martin picked his truck keys from the side table in the living room and walked out the door.

From the couch where she was sitting, trying to calm a terrified Tulip, Lucy saw Nola press the towel to her lip and walk out into the hallway, where her domestic partnership present was on the floor, the front of it shattered like a spiderwebbed windshield.

Nola picked up the frame and walked into the living room, where, through the window, she saw Martin climbing into his truck and driving away.

“I am not crazy, Martin,” she said, looking at the broken frame in her hand.
“I am not crazy! Lucy Fisher is destroying my life!”

Then Nola reared back her arm like a World Series pitcher and threw the frame across the room with all her might. It shot between the side tables and flew over the couch, where it would have completely shattered on the floor. That is, if Naunie had not been there to catch it nimbly and, without a slice of hesitation, rear her own arm back and, with every bit as much force, throw it right back at Nola.

That Saturday, when the chime of the doorbell sounded and Martin answered it, Lucy did not expect to see Jilly standing on the other side.

“Hi, Jilly,” he said calmly.

“Martin,” she said as she nodded once.

“Come on in,” he added, stepping aside. “How’ve you been?” he queried as she stepped past him and stopped just inside the living room.

“No complaints,” she answered simply.

“And Warren?”

“Same,” she said.

Martin nodded politely. “Good to hear, good to hear,” he replied.

He closed the door, and then stood there for a moment.

“You know, this whole thing,” he began, not sure where he was going. “It’s—You know, I just think that it’s a better place for her now, until things settle down. I don’t want you to think that I …
I’d be doing this if it wasn’t for … Well, it’s just for
right now
. Just right now, and I am appreciative that you—”

“It’s all right, Martin,” Jilly interrupted. “Of course I’ll do it. There’s no question.”

“Thank you,” he said humbly. “I appreciate it.”

“Holy crap!” Lucy spat, almost choking. “Did you hear that? Is Nola moving in with Jilly? Martin is kicking her out? I haven’t seen her pack anything, have you?”

Naunie shook her head and shrugged. “I’ll be glad to get rid of her,” she offered, “but I will miss pinching that doughy behind.”

“Does this mean our job is done?” Lucy cried, nearly ecstatic.

“We could be in The State by tonight, kid.” Naunie cackled. “Whaddya think about that?”

Jilly took a deep breath and just stood there, looking at Martin.

“Have you heard from her,” she finally asked. “At all?”

“Nope,” Martin said. “Just got one letter, but nothing since then.”

“What did the letter say?” Jilly wanted to know. She had never asked Martin any of this before—it wasn’t really her business, there had never been a good opportunity—but the truth was that she had never had the guts to bring it up. She didn’t know what she might be opening up here. But now, here, just her and him, had to be the right time, and it might be the only time. “What did Lucy say?”

Martin took a deep breath and ran his hand over his short, cropped hair. “You know, Jilly, it may sound silly now, but at the time, I couldn’t bring myself to open it. There wasn’t anything she could say to fix what had happened, and I just didn’t want to hear her try to. So I … didn’t. Didn’t read it. I threw it away, probably to get back at her. I don’t know.”

“I wish you had read it,” Jilly said. “I’d like to know anything about what happened after she left here.”

“So you haven’t talked to her, either?” Martin asked.

“Not a word since the day she pulled out of my driveway,” she said. “I sure would like to know what happened that day, when she found all of her stuff thrown out on the lawn, Martin.”

“I wish I could tell you, Jilly,” he replied.

“Then why don’t you?”

Martin paused and bit his lip. “I’ve got enough on my mind for today, I think,” he said.

“All right, then, another day,” Jilly said. “But I mean it. Another day. Do you have everything together for her?”

“The State by nightfall,” Lucy chimed. “The State by nightfall!”

“We are so good at haunting we should charge for this,” Naunie said, and laughed. “We can crack ’em in no time flat!”

“Sure, I’ve got her things right here,” Martin said. He walked back into the hallway and pulled out a shopping bag. “Again, I appreciate it, Jilly.”

“He’s not sending her off with much,” Naunie said. “The least he could do is give her that glitter album back. Who spells their name in glitter except Charo?”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way,” Jilly replied. “Lucy was my best friend. We brought her home together.”

Lucy gasped. “They’re taking her,” she said quietly and quickly. “Naunie, they’re taking Tulip.”

Lucy looked at her dog asleep at her feet, wedged in between the coffee table and the couch, almost all gray around her muzzle. Jilly had been there when Lucy had found Tulip at the pound. It was Jilly who’d driven home while Lucy had kept the puppy on her lap, the puppy who’d given long, sloppy licks with delicious puppy breath. One extended lick over not just Lucy’s bottom lip or chin like most dogs, but right over the top, it had to be both lips. Two lips. Tulip.

“Naunie,”
Lucy barely squeezed out, her eyes immediately full, a wave of grief and panic swallowing her. “Don’t let them take her! Oh, no! They can’t take her!”

Naunie grabbed Lucy’s hand firmly with one hand and held her around the shoulders with her other.

“Oh, no,” Lucy whispered, trembling.

“Lucy,” Naunie said sternly. “You need to listen to me.
Listen to me
. Jilly loves Tulip, you know she will care for her. Tulip can’t stay here anymore. You don’t know what Nola will do. She’s safer with Jilly. You can’t protect Tulip the way you are. You can love her, but you have to love her enough to let her go.”

Tulip, sensing Lucy’s distress, woke up and licked her hand. Then she struggled to get up, and laid her chin on the smelly couch cushion next to Lucy.

Lucy broke down and sobbed. Through everything she had been through—being dumped, fired, killed, and forgotten, Lucy had not shed one tear. Not one. She had changed physical proportions, purposes, and realms. But not once had she allowed the tears to pass; she’d always been able to keep them back. Now it was too much. It was too hard, and she wept with anger, sadness, frustration, and now, most of all, emptiness.

“I can’t lose her again,” she cried to her grandmother. “I just got her back.”

Lucy stroked Tulip’s head while the dog looked at her reassuringly.

“I’m so sorry,” Lucy said.

“Tulip, come,” Martin commanded, and Tulip gave Lucy a long, warm look, rubbing her nose into Lucy’s palm. Then she turned and padded off toward Martin, who kneeled down in front of her and rubbed her ears.

“You are a good girl,” he said, and looked at her for a long time.
Then he pulled her leash out of the bag, clipped it onto her collar, and stood up.

“Thank you,” he said earnestly, and cleared his throat, handing the leash to Jilly. “I couldn’t imagine her going to anyone else.”

“Neither could I,” Jilly agreed, then took the bag of Tulip’s things from Martin.

“I’m sorry to bring this up, but she hasn’t been to the vet in a while. I have a nagging feeling that she should get checked out,” Martin added. “I’ll gladly pay for it and anything else you need for her.”

He heard me
, Lucy thought.
Martin really did hear me that night
.

“Okay,” Jilly agreed. “I’ll make an appointment. Tulip has the same vet as my dog. Come on, Tulip. Have I got things to show you!”

And with that, she turned around as Martin opened the door for her, and both she and Tulip walked out of the house. Lucy watched them go until they were both completely out of her sight, but not before Tulip got to the end of the driveway and looked back one last time.

Alice coughed immediately after hoisting up the garage door. Dust filtered in from everywhere, drifting in the rays of the sun that were hitting all of this stuff for the first time in what seemed like a lifetime.

She hated packing, she hated moving, she hated all of it. She especially hated telling her son, Jared, that they would be living in an apartment closer to town because she had lost the house. She simply couldn’t keep up with the payments and had fallen behind, and had quickly found herself in a void that ended with packing tape, boxes from Starbucks, and a notice from the sheriff. Naunie’s money had helped for a while, and it had seemed to be a perfect
solution when Lucy came, but that … brought the accident. She refused to think about that now. If she did, she’d never get through this. It was bad enough that she was going to have to start packing up her sister’s possessions and move them into storage. There would barely be enough room for Alice’s and Jared’s things in the apartment as it was.

She looked over the pile of Lucy’s belongings, a heavy layer of dust on everything, since few of Lucy’s boxes had lids—they were all produce crates with peaches, grapes, or cherries printed on the side. Alice shook her head. She should have covered this stuff up a long time ago. It had never even occurred to her.

Alice ran her finger over a framed photo of her and Lucy when they were little, tiny girls, wearing the smallest bikinis in their plastic play pool. Both were laughing and beaming, Alice looking at the camera while Lucy’s eyes were nearly shut, her head thrown back in laughter, her hands frozen together in a clap. On the side of the photo, a woman’s thin arm held a hose, her thumb over the nozzle, creating a fountainlike spray. She wondered if it was Naunie’s hand or their mother’s. Either way, Alice realized somberly that she was the only one left.

Next to the photo was a nylon bag, which looked like some sort of luggage. Alice pulled and tugged on the long strap to get it free from the box, and when she did, she recognized it immediately. Lucy’s laptop bag. Alice didn’t even remember shoving it in the box or bringing any of this to the garage. Then again, for some time after the accident, she hadn’t remembered much at all, and frankly, she was glad about that one small favor. Losing Lucy was—Well, she had never known something so profound and weighted as that before, so bottomless and vast it couldn’t possibly be real. It didn’t make sense; it never made sense. She felt hollow and empty, cracked. She woke up one night and instantly thought,
Lucy is gone. If I looked
all over the world for her, if I spent the rest of my life, I would never find her. She’s not there. She’s not anywhere
.