White Picket Fences (30 page)

The door opened and Chase realized he had nearly put out his arms. But there was only one figure silhouetted in the light of the hallway.

Just his mother.

No, Tally.

His cousin stepped into the room and shut the door softly behind her.

She didn’t look at him. “Look, I didn’t try to, but I heard the whole thing. The vent from the family room leads right into the sewing room.” Then she raised her eyes. She saw his distress and walked to the side of his bed. She sat down next to him.

“Just tell them you remember, Chase,” Tally said. “They don’t know what to do. I think that’s why they’re afraid to talk about it. They don’t know how to bring it up.”

He was grateful for her presence in the room, but it offered no peace. “That’s not why they’re afraid.”

She hesitated a moment. “How do you know that?”

“It’s not because of what they don’t know. It’s because of what they do know. What they
think
they know.”

Tally shook her head. “What do you mean?”

In the mix of light from the desk lamp and hushed moonlight, his cousin was wrapped in shadow. He was glad he couldn’t focus on her eyes when he looked at her. “They think I did it. They think I’m the one who started the fire. They might even know that I actually did.”

He felt her take a quick breath. “You don’t know that,” she said.

“It explains everything. If they
think I
did it, it explains it. If they
know
I did it, well, there’s no point in even wondering anymore.”

“Chase, just go talk to them.”

He rose angrily to his feet. “What? Go to the woodshop and beg? Go comb the streets to see where my mom went and beg her? They don’t want to talk about this! Don’t you get it? And you know what? I don’t want them talking to me about it. I don’t want them telling me what happened. They don’t owe me anything.”

“Chase.”

“This isn’t their problem; it’s mine. I’ll figure it out. Without them.”

“Chase!”

“Without you too.”

He expected her to get up in disgust and stomp out of his room. He wanted her to. But she just sat there.

“Did you really follow fire engines to a fire?”

“Yeah, I really did.” He hoped she heard the exasperation in his voice. It annoyed him that this was the question he’d foolishly hoped his parents would ask.

“Were you afraid?”

That one too.

“I’m not afraid of Ghost anymore.” It was out of his mouth before he knew it.

“What?”

Embarrassment quickly worked its warm way across his face. He’d never said that name aloud before. Never.

“Nothing,” he said.

“Did you say ghost?”

Chase stared out the window. The moon was struggling to break through the clouds. It wasn’t making any headway. “It doesn’t matter what I said.”

But he knew at once that Tally understood. That she knew without his saying another word that he’d been haunted the last thirteen years by a demon that held his memories in its hot, tight fist. And that the demon had a name.

“Did you go to the fire tonight because you… because you…” But his cousin didn’t finish.

“I went to the fire because I was hoping God would show up,” Chase said plainly. “Josef got to me, I guess. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“So…”

“God wasn’t at the fire tonight. Not this one.”

For several seconds Tally said nothing. When she stood a moment later, she touched him on his shoulder as he stood with his back to her, looking out his window.

“Maybe he was but you just didn’t see him,” she said.

Chase envisioned the flames, the heat, the shouts, the water cannons, the roar, the men in turnout coats bellowing at him to get back, the audacity of Ghost’s corrupt appetite. “He wasn’t there,” Chase said.

“Do you want me to stay with you for a while?” she said a moment later.

Exhaustion swept over him. He was too tired to think anymore. “I’m all right. I’m tired.” He turned to face her. “Thanks anyway.”

“Sure.” She left the room, closing his door quietly behind her.

He kicked off his shoes, switched off the desk lamp, and stretched out on his bed, his head spinning with scattered thoughts.
Were you there?
he said to the ceiling and the vast beyond above him.
Were you?

A hard silence filled his room.

Chase lay in the darkness, waiting for an answer. When it didn’t come, he turned over, drew up his bedspread, and begged sleep to bear him away.

Chaotic dreams that had no meaning assailed him during the night, and he awoke well before dawn, half on and half off his bed. He was bathed in sweat, and the smell of smoke and ashes filled his mind. For a moment he didn’t know where he was. Didn’t know that he was safe in his bed.

He slowly opened his eyes, reorienting himself to his room and the coolness of the pre-morning air that slid in through his open window.

Chase exhaled deeply.
Just a dream.

He closed his eyes, pulled his dangling legs back onto his mattress, and reached for the bedspread tangled at his feet. His fingers met something hard and cool to the touch.

Chase opened his eyes again. His fingers rested on Tally’s lighter.

He sat up quickly. The state quarters box was open at the foot of his bed, and two-dollar bills were strewn about. And all around him, tossed about like confetti, were lighters and matchbooks.

thirty-eight

F
or the past few Saturdays, Tally had awakened to the aroma of waffles. But when she opened her eyes the following morning at a little after eight, she smelled nothing. She sat up and noticed that her throat felt scratchy and her head ached. Throwing on a pair of sweats and a T-shirt, Tally made her way into the kitchen to get something to chase away her sore throat, certain she was the first one up.

Her aunt stood fully dressed at the kitchen sink with a little sack of ground coffee in her hands, staring out the window. Amanda seemed frozen there, as if a wand had passed over her and a spell now held her suspended between this moment and the next.

“Hey,” Tally said cautiously.

Amanda didn’t jump or flinch. She slowly turned her head. “Good morning, Tally. Did you sleep well?” Her aunt’s voice sounded like an automaton’s.

“Yeah. I think I might be getting a cold, though.”

“Oh. That’s too bad.” Her aunt’s voice was bland. “There’s vitamin C in the cabinet above the dishwasher. And cold medicine.” The spell broken, Amanda turned to the coffee maker and began to slowly spoon grounds into a cone-shaped filter.

As Tally opened the fridge to get orange juice, Delcey popped
into the kitchen and dropped a gym bag in the middle of the floor. The dog followed her, nibbling at the handles of the gym bag, and Delcey gently shooed her away.

“So who’s taking me to Sara’s?” Delcey said as she grabbed a container of yogurt out of the open fridge.

“I can take you,” Amanda said tonelessly.

Delcey turned to Tally. “I’ve got a dance competition today. You can come if you want.”

“Oh. Okay. Thanks,” Tally stammered. “But I think I’ll just…”

Delcey swung around to face her mother. “You and Dad are coming, right? You guys said you would. And you need to be there by one or you’ll miss the prelims. And I’m going home with Sara. So don’t forget.”

Amanda poured water into the coffee maker. “I’m coming, Dels.”

“Dad too. You said Dad would come too.”

Amanda’s brow furrowed. “Yes. He said he would.”

“That means you’re both coming, right? And Dad knows the finals don’t start until four?”

“Yes.” Amanda flipped the switch to start the coffee brewing. “Yes, we’re coming.” She didn’t turn away from the coffee maker as it began to sputter. She stood in front of it, watching the first drops hit the bottom of the clear glass pot.

Delcey grabbed the gym bag and for a split second stared at her mother. “Mom! I told her I’d be there by eight thirty!”

Amanda followed her daughter to the front door, reaching for her car keys and purse on the entry table. She turned back toward the kitchen. “Tally, I’ve got some errands to run. So if… if
anyone asks, I’ll be home a little later. Can you remind Neil we have to leave around noon for Delcey’s dance competition?”

“Sure. Okay.”

Amanda and Delcey were out the door the next moment. From the window above the sink, Tally watched them get into Amanda’s car and drive away.

They’d been gone less than ten minutes when Neil came downstairs and strode hesitantly into the kitchen. “Where is everyone?” He patted the dog and then reached for a coffee cup.

“Amanda took Delcey somewhere.”

“Oh.” He poured himself a cup.

“She asked me to remind you that you guys have to leave at noon for the dance thing.”

“Dance thing?”

“Delcey’s dance competition.”

“Oh. Well, that’s hours away. Don’t see why she couldn’t tell me that herself.”

Tally cleared her throat and winced. “She said she had errands to run after she dropped Delcey off. And that she’d be back later.”

Neil blinked at her. “How much later?”

Tally shrugged.

Neil took a sip of his coffee, and his eyes traveled to the open stairway. “Chase up yet?”

“I don’t know. Do you want me to go see?”

“No, no. If he’s asleep, I don’t want to wake him up. I was just…just wondering.”

He took another sip of his coffee, and Tally fought to keep from saying something that Chase wouldn’t want her to.

“I, uh, I’ve got some things to take care of too,” he said. “But I’ll be back in time to leave at twelve. Do you mind telling Amanda that for me?”

“No. I don’t mind.”

“Thanks.” Again, Neil’s eyes swept past her to the staircase.

“Do you want me to tell Chase something too?” she asked.

“No. I… Well, actually, yes. You can tell him I…”

Tally waited. Waited for Neil to perhaps say he was ready to watch that video of the fire at the Embarcadero. But he didn’t say it.

“Never mind. I can just… I’ll just talk to him later.” Neil turned to a cupboard, fished out a travel mug, and poured the contents of his mug into it. He grabbed a granola bar and nodded a good-bye to her. Then he was out the front door.

Tally ate a bowl of Cheerios, drank some juice, and waited for Chase to come downstairs. The house was deathly quiet. When she was done she tiptoed upstairs. At Chase’s door she listened for the sound of even breathing. She heard instead the sound of a dog barking in the backyard of the house next door. Chase had his window open.

“Chase?” she said softly. No answer. She tapped quietly at his door. “Chase?” Nothing. She opened the door.

Chase wasn’t in his bed. His blankets were askew, and the quarters box sat on the top sheet, its cover unlatched. A few stray two-dollar bills peeked out of his rumpled bedspread.

She scanned his room. He wasn’t there.

Tally walked over to the bed and opened the box, afraid it would be empty, her heart already beating faster. Her father’s
lighter was there. The rest of the two-dollar bills were there. But the other lighters and matchbooks were gone.

Tally turned and walked quickly out of the room. In the kitchen, she threw open the door to the garage. Chase’s car wasn’t there. He had already gone. Apparently before anyone else.

She was alone.

The morning slogged by. Tally curled up on the family-room sofa with copies of
People
magazine and the television remote. She dozed for a little while.

When Neil returned at noon, Tally said nothing about the missing lighters and matchbooks. When Amanda arrived a few minutes later, she still said nothing.

Amanda asked her if she’d seen Chase, and she said no. Both of them asked her to please tell him to stick around the house when he got home. And to please turn on his cell phone. Amanda told her to take some Tylenol and rest. She didn’t look well. And then she said that she and Neil would be back by eight. Then her aunt and uncle left, walking to Amanda’s car in the driveway in silence.

A few minutes before three, just as Tally was about to hunt for Matt’s telephone number to see if he knew where Chase was, the door to the garage opened. Chase walked into the kitchen and barely acknowledged her. He hadn’t shaved, and circles rimmed his eyes.

“Where were you all this time?” she said.

“Chill, Tally,” he mumbled. “My parents aren’t here, are they?”

“No.”

He walked past her and headed up the stairs. She followed him. Chase opened his bedroom door and reached under his bed for a collapsed gym bag. He yanked open a dresser drawer and pulled out a handful of clothes, stuffing them into the bag.

“What’s going on? What are you doing?” she asked.

He opened his sock drawer and began to rifle through it. “Don’t go maternal on me, Tally. I really don’t need that from you.”

“Where are you going?”

“Depends on how much money I can find.” He looked up from the drawer. “You got any money? I’ll pay you back, I swear.”

“I don’t have any money.”

“Nothing?”

“I don’t have any money, Chase. Where are you going?”

“Somewhere I can think. Where I can remember. That place isn’t here.” He tossed a pair of socks into the bag.

“How long will you be gone?”

Chase shrugged and grabbed his laptop.

“What about school?”

He turned to his bed, opened the quarters box, and reached for the messy pile of two-dollar bills, counting them quickly. “This will last all of one hour,” he mumbled, stuffing the bills into his back pocket. Then he reached into the box for her lighter. Chase turned to her. “Here. You can have this back.”

She didn’t reach for it. He said nothing for a moment, just stared at her. Then he tossed Tally’s lighter onto his unmade bed. “You don’t look very good, Tally. You should take something and sleep it off.”

Chase grabbed the gym bag and was out of the room, taking the stairs two at a time. Tally ran to keep up with him. “Chase, please wait a minute.”

He ignored her, walking briskly to the laundry room. He reached up to a bookshelf of cookbooks and how-to manuals above the washer and dryer and closed his hand around a decorative tin.