Black Promises (Blackwoods College)

Jarrod squeezed gently. “That’s probably his way of saying sorry.”

“I guess so.” I shook my head and tried to push my dad out of my mind. I turned to Jarrod after clicking in my seatbelt. “So where are you taking me?”

“That’s a surprise.” He put the truck in gear.

“And how did you manage to leak those documents?”

“That’s a secret.”

“Jarrod,” I said, voice warning.

He laughed and pulled forward. “I’ll tell you after we get there, okay? I promise.”

“Fine.” I leaned back in my set and looked at the roof.

There were no trumpets. No singing angels. Another moment there and gone. I wished I could hold on to the look on my father’s face as he drove off, half twisted agony, half deep-seated sorrow, but it was only in my memory now, and would slowly fade.

But it happened. That would never change. Ephemeral or not—it happened. I could hold onto that at least.

25

Cora

Jarrod drove to the outskirts of town along winding back roads until he approached a quiet trailer park and pulled down a well-maintained road.

Trailers lined either side. Most had decent cars out front, their small lawns properly maintained. Some were rundown and ugly, but most looked cared for, loved and cleaned and cherished.

I’d never been in a trailer park before. Everything I knew about them came from popular culture. I imagined they were dirty and dangerous, filled with hard-worn people and their difficult lives. But the place was shockingly nice, maybe a little rough around the edges, certainly not high-class and fancy, but the structures were obviously permanent, painted bright colors, and the shrubs and trees were trimmed and kept orderly. Kids wandered on their bikes, normal packs of boys and girls having fun. Adults sat on porches, in folding chairs, some with drinks, most without. Jarrod rolled past it all.

“Where are we right now?”

“Maple Field,” he said, squinting at the road. “Used to be called Swimming Lakes but they changed it a couple years back. New management and all that.”

“But what are we doing here?”

His truck slowed to a stop outside of a teal blue house with a red roof and an awning over a small concrete slab porch. He parked and killed the engine.

“I grew up here.”

I frowned at him then looked out the window. “Here? In this park?”

“No, here, in this unit.” He pointed at the teal building.

I gaped at it then back at him. “Are you joking?”

He smiled slightly and shook his head.

“After my parents died, they left me some stuff. They managed to buy this place in cash back before they went off the rails. I guess they thought it was an investment, you know? We were supposed to live in it for a little while, the move out and rent it or sell depending on the market or whatever. Except that never happened, and then they died.”

I tried to picture little Jarrod running around this place with his own pack of friends. I could see it—he must’ve been the king of these streets, a brawny, tough boy with an easy smile and tousled brown hair.

“You kept it all this time.”

“Wasn’t easy. My aunt and uncle fought me hard at first, said a little kid didn’t need to keep a trailer, except then my uncle decided he’d rent it out and keep the cash. When I got older, I realized what he was doing, and threatened to sue him for all the money he stole from me over the years. He let go of the tenant and I took over paying taxes on it ever since.”

“What do you do with it?”

“Not much,” he admitted. “I come here when I need to get away. I’ve never brought anyone before though. You’re the first.” He opened his door and got out.

I followed him inside. It was small and cramped, but surprisingly comfortable and clean. There was a small couch, little tiny kitchen, a bathroom, and bedroom with a small twin bed, and another bedroom with a larger queen. The furniture was old, but it looked maintained and cared-for, and the decor suggested that Jarrod hadn’t updated it since the last tenants.

I didn’t know what I expected from this place. He turned on an electric heater and the place began to warm up. “Sorry for the cold. I don’t get out here as much as I want.”

“It’s fine. This is really…” I hesitated, not sure what to say.

He grinned and sat on the couch. “Small?”

“You make it look tiny.” Which was true. Jarrod was a massive man, and the trailer was tight as it was—it seemed even smaller with him inside it.

“Can’t help that. Ever been in one of these before?”

“No, never.” I lingered, not sure where to sit. He took up half the living room.

He gestured at the couch. I felt my stomach twist into knots. Going near him right now… but this was what I wanted.