Home Again

Suddenly she wondered about Angel. After all, what did they know about him, really? He’d come into their lives on a whirlwind, all smiles and promises and fun. But he had a horrible reputation—what if he’d earned it, what if he slept with anyone and forgot their names in the morning, what if he was really a serial killer and the police looked the other way because he was Angel DeMarco, what if—

“Get a grip, Lina,” she said aloud, trying to shake the worry from her mind. “Mom is fine. She’s probably making him drive at twenty-five miles an hour and wear a crash helmet.”

But she couldn’t make herself believe it. Deep down she knew that something was wrong. She remembered the phone call they’d gotten in the middle of the night about Francis, and her heart started to race. She glanced nervously at the phone. A call like that could come at any time, could strike through your living room like lightning and leave you burning.…

She needed Zach right now, someone to talk to—

From the corner of her eye she saw headlights outside. “Thank God.”

The Mercedes pulled up the driveway and stopped. The headlights flicked off.

She sat there, arms crossed, staring out the window, waiting for them to come inside. They didn’t.

Finally they left the car and strode casually up the walkway. The lock clicked and the door swung open. Mom and Angel walked into the room, holding hands, gazing at each other with starry, faraway looks in their eyes.

Lina felt suddenly excluded. It was the way she wanted Angel to look at her, only her. She knew she was being stupid and selfish and childish, but it hurt God, how it hurt. She’d wanted a daddy who was hers and hers alone. Her best friend in all the world. The way they looked at each other—as if they were in love—made Lina feel angry and empty inside. “Mom?’ she whispered.

They looked startled—as if they hadn’t even noticed she was in the room—and their disregard pissed her off even more. Mom blinked and pulled her hand away from Angel’s. “Hi, baby,” she said in a sleepy voice. “We thought you’d be in bed by now. You didn’t have to wait up.”

The words were like arrows, driving deep. They hadn’t even thought about Lina, they’d forgotten her completely. She laughed bitterly. “Yeah, right. Like I could sleep with you out.” She threw the words back at her mother, and felt a tiny thrill when she flinched.

Mom took a step toward her. The understanding in her eyes only made the hurt worse. “There’s nothing for you to be scared of, baby. Nothing could change the way either of us feels about you.”

Lina knew it was a lie. If her mother loved Angel, it changed everything, and suddenly she didn’t want it changed. She wanted her old life back, wanted Francis out on that old porch swing and Mom puttering in the rose garden. She didn’t want this dark-haired stranger to come between them.

She felt as if she were about to explode, but she didn’t know why. It was as if all her little-girl dreams were crumbling around her. She stared at Angel. “You said you were my friend.” Hurt plunged through her at the words, leaving her shaken and angry. Suddenly she wanted to hurt him, hurt them both the way they were hurting her. “You’re not my father,” she said in a cold voice. “You have his heart, but you’re not him.” Her voice broke and it made her furious, that show of weakness. “You don’t deserve his heart.”

“Lina!” Mom said harshly.

“Shut up,” Lina hissed.

Angel frowned suddenly, and the way it changed his face was frightening. He threw his coat toward the sofa and it caught a lampshade. The crystal lamp crashed to the floor. “Don’t you dare talk to your mother that way, young lady.”

It made her laugh, him trying suddenly to sound like her father. But he wasn’t her father. He was up in Heaven right now, and he’d never looked at Lina that way, never made Lina feel like she was an outsider in her own house. “You’re not my father.”

“Lina,” Mom said, “you don’t mean that.”

“You don’t know what I mean. You don’t know me. I hate you … I hate you.” She heard herself screaming at them and she knew it was a mistake, but she couldn’t seem to stop. Anger and hurt twisted her up inside.

“Go to your room,” Angel said in a voice so quiet and calm, it sent shivers up Lina’s spine. “Get out of here. Now.”

Tears choked her, stung her eyes. She spun away from their Christmas-card love scene and stumbled blindly down the hallway, running into the refuge of her own room. But once she got there, it didn’t even feel like her own room anymore. It felt alien and confining. She wrenched the window open and crawled outside.

Yanking her bike from the side of the porch, she jumped onto the hard plastic seat and sped down the driveway, over the curb, and onto the pavement. Anger spurred her on, made her punch the pedals until she was speeding away from the house.

By the time she reached the corner, it had started to rain. Infrequent, drizzling rain spat at her and fell in glistening drops on her handlebars. Wind whipped through her hair and stung her eyes.

With every mile she felt the dreams she’d concocted about her father slip further from her. She’d been an idiot to believe in him, to believe some stranger could come into her life and be her daddy. She should have known better…

I’m afraid he’ll break your heart.

She heard her mother’s warning again, and it made her feel even more stupid and naive. Lina knew better—she knew that dreams didn’t always come true. Hadn’t she always known that? Why had she let herself be so stupid?

At Laurel Street she remembered the Saturday night parties that were an institution at Quilcene Park. She veered left and sped down the hill. Ten minutes later she turned the last corner and whizzed onto the driveway of the old park, her thin tires bumping over the ruts in the road, her fingers frozen around the rubber handles.

She ditched her bike at the edge of the asphalt parking lot and looked around. She waited breathlessly for someone to yell her name, to clap her on the back and welcome her to the party.

But no one came. Kids milled along the river and around the fire. She could hear the cackling of laughter and the quiet buzz of a dozen conversations. But the closer she got to the fire, the older the kids looked. She’d thought this was a party for high schoolers, but a bunch of the boys who were hanging out around the fire looked like they were in college—or should have been.