Sisters in the Wind(38)

Tell your teacher about Steven and the car games. Tell the librarian.

Keep telling until someone believes you.

I liked being your big sister.

Keep reading.

Lucy

I left the book under her pillow.

Downstairs, I stood at the edge of the living room. Stacy’s favorite singer was still in the competition. She cuddled next to her mother. Mr. Sterling read the local newspaper and puffed on his cigar. I took one last deep breath before lighting the fuse.

“Stacy, please tell your parents about the car games.” My voice shook.

Her eyes widened, darting from me to her father and then her mother.

“Stacy, go upstairs,” Mrs. Sterling ordered while rising.

“What your brother is doing to you isn’t okay. And it’s not your fault,” I called out as she scampered past me without a word.

Mrs. Sterling stepped toward me. Instinctively, I made sure I had a clear path to the front door.

“Lucy, you need to let us handle this ourselves.” It was the same voice as when I’d told her about Steven attacking me.

“Your son is a drug dealer who is molesting his little sister,” I told Mr. Sterling.

He remained seated, methodically folding the newspaper.

“We provided a righteous home to a troubled teen who betrayed us with vile lies.” His calmness froze the blood in my veins.

So I ran and never looked back.

By the time I reached Mrs. Clark, Mr. Sterling had already called and told her they’d found drugs in my bedroom. He said that, when confronted, I threatened to spread lies about their family.

I had no proof. Stacy was the only person who could have corroborated the truth, but she was a nine-year-old girl who had been raised to be an obedient daughter. I was the messed-up foster kid with a propensity to tell lies and a history of juvenile delinquency.

I failed Stacy.





POST-BLAST MONTH TWO


FEBRUARY 2009

Hibernation hits harder than I thought. Nearly two weeks of not leaving the hotel. It’s not cozy like winter on Beaver Island with Miss Lonnie and Devery.

I’m not the only person in a bad mood. Tomorrow is Valentine’s Day. Daunis went home yesterday for a long weekend with TJ. Jamie’s watching more television than usual, ever since Daunis announced her travel plans. Sullen Jamie isn’t chatty and smiley like normal Jamie.

After lunch, I stand in the doorway to Jamie’s combination bedroom-office, watching him type on a laptop and make notes in a journal. He bought a two-drawer file cabinet that fits next to the writing desk. Every few days he receives an envelope or package from Hazel White Hawk, Raven Air Associates. The return address is in Alexandria, Virginia.

Jamie looks up from his workspace. He motions at the extra chair. I sit.

“After your FBI case, why didn’t you stay in Sault Ste. Marie with Daunis?” I’m still Team Jamie; it makes no sense that he left when he was so in love with her. He’s sad, I can tell. Maybe talking about it will help him.

“That’s quite the question, Lucy,” he says. “You really want to know?”

I nod.

“Daunis’s brother, Levi, and his friend Mike wanted me dead, and she saved me. Then she died in front of me. If her aunt—a nurse—hadn’t been there … Lucy, she died. No heartbeat. No breathing. It was all my fault. I was the one who got her involved in the case. I quit law enforcement after what happened with Daunis and her brother.”

Jamie exhales loudly. He doesn’t seem finished with his story, so we sit there while his fingers shake atop a file folder labeled WHY ICWA MATTERS.

“She was airlifted to Ann Arbor … University of Michigan Medical Center. I went there once she was stabilized. I thought we could be together. Not in Sault Ste. Marie, because by then everyone knew I was an undercover officer. There were more people involved in the meth cell. More than we’d initially arrested. Some escaped U.S. jurisdiction, had the money to disappear. If I’d stayed, I would have been a target, and Daunis would have been in danger around me.”

He stares out the window.

“It wasn’t fair to ask her to go away with me. She was right that I needed to figure out some things. I wasn’t in a good frame of mind.”

Jamie surprises me by reaching for his phone.

“A friend lived in Milwaukee, so I went there. He was going through a tough time. I wanted to help him out.”

Jamie scrolls through images on his phone. He shows me a photo of himself next to a guy in a wheelchair.

“I’m sorry,” I say. “Is he okay now?”

“Oh … no, Lucy. It wasn’t that.” His face lights up. “Connor’s used a wheelchair since he was ten. But he had failed the bar exam, so I helped him study.” Jamie shows another photo of them celebrating. Connor holds a cake with Just what the world needs … another lawyer! written in blue frosting.

Jamie’s somber expression returns.

“I wanted to find my mom. Find out what happened to her.”

“And did you?” I still don’t want to know anything about Maggie, but maybe Jamie’s situation isn’t as bad as mine.

He nods and then closes his laptop.

“Yes. I found her in Flagstaff, Arizona.” He glances at his dual-face watch.

“Is that why one of the clocks is set to a different time zone?”