Sisters in the Wind(45)

“I was in a group home when I was seven. They brought us to the ice arena once a month. I took to it like the skates were always part of my feet.” He grins. “I was a tiny little guy but could I ever skate fast.”

I picture him with a small braid. Wearing little jeans and a sweatshirt that was too big for him. And hopefully a helmet. Released onto the ice like a slingshot.

“A skating coach was there most Saturdays. He asked the group-home people to bring me every Saturday. After a year, I was living with him and his family. I spent every day at the arena. I passed my skills tests and progressed quickly. My skate partner was the daughter of a major donor to the skate club. I would’ve rather skated solo than pairs, but I was an easygoing preteen.”

It feels like there’s a but coming up in his story.

“And then you defected to Jamaica and joined the bobsled team?” I say.

“Ehh.” He makes a buzzer sound. “Guess again.”

“You crashed into an outdoor dining-table set, lost your sight, became a recluse, your old coach and the boyfriend you ditched trained you for sectionals, where you skated a flawless program, and no one knew that your sight was impaired until you tripped over the roses the crowd tossed onto the ice.” Ice Castles was one of the movies on VHS tape at Miss Lonnie’s.

Jamie laughs heartily. “Ehh—but you’re getting warmer.”

“But if this is about ice skating, shouldn’t I be getting colder?”

“Fair point. Last guess, Sparky.”

I consider the fact that he met Daunis as an undercover cop who could play hockey. Somewhere along the way, he switched from figure skating to hockey.

“You hit puberty and stopped being so easygoing?”

“Ding-ding-ding-ding,” he calls out while turning a corner without using his blinker.

“I fell in love for the first time,” he says with mock wistfulness. “And her name was hockey. I married her against my foster parents’ wishes. So they disowned me.” His voice has been happy-go-lucky so far. But it’s the exaggerated version meant to cover up the pain.

He parks the car. I wait for him to finish.

“They rehomed me. Took me back to the pound and said I had become disobedient.”

His smile doesn’t reach his eyes. In fact, it’s the bare minimum of what might be considered a smile. His lip quivers as if holding a smile while waiting for an extremely slow photographer to snap the picture.

I want to find his foster parents and channel my most fierce What Would Devery Do? scorched-earth revenge.

In the end I settle for patting his shoulder three times.

He rubs his eyes.

I glance around and my stomach lurches.

We’re at my apartment.

“What are we doing here?” My voice rises in alarm.

Jamie looks surprised.

“I’m sorry, Lucy. I thought you might want to pick up some things from your apartment. You never asked and … I figured you didn’t want to impose.”

I stare at the stained-glass windows I never thought I’d see again.

“Are you sure there isn’t anything you need to get? I can get it for you if you don’t want to navigate stairs,” Jamie offers.

“I didn’t have much,” I say, not wanting to reveal that I left for good the morning of the explosion.

“I can talk with your land—”

“No.” I smile like nothing’s wrong. “It’s okay, Jamie. It wasn’t much, just a bed and small kitchen. Came furnished and everything.”

“Do you want to go by the diner?” he asks, starting the car.

I say yes, even though I’m afraid to see the place. A chill travels up my spine as Jamie drives us away.

The front of the diner looks like it always has, except for the windows replaced with speckled plywood and the FOR SALE sign staked in the grass. Jamie turns into the parking lot.

I gasp.

The back corner of the building is … gone. Blue tarps cover the missing section of roof. The exterior walls are boarded up. The rubble is cleared away.

“Did I screw up?” Jamie worries. “Should I not have brought you here?”

“I said yes,” I point out.

“Do you want to go back to the hotel?”

When I shake my head, I remember the pain of landing in the parking lot. I didn’t hear my femur break so much as I felt it snap. My skull connected with asphalt. I very nearly died. Nancy, too. I didn’t think they’d try to kill me. After all, Dead Lucy wouldn’t be able to give them what they wanted.

“Daunis and I haven’t asked about what you remember. We decided to take our cue from you. It was traumatic. Your friend Nancy was injured. That’s traumatic too.” His voice gets even softer. “If you ever want to talk with us, either of us, or both, or a therapist, just let us know.”

This would be the time to tell him that I was the target of the bombing. But then I’d need to reveal why they were after me.

“Can we get burgers and curly fries?” I plead. From the corner of my eye, I know he’s looking at me. I smile. “Please, J-Bird?”

“If that’s what you want, Lucy-in-the-Sky-with-Diamonds, we can get milkshakes, too.”

I let him get away with the nickname. This time.