I looked around and noticed there was a small stone in the ground next to Josh’s grandmother’s.
Josh stood back up. “Ah, shit, let’s get out of here. I shouldn’t have brought you here and ruined the mood.”
“No,” I said. I grabbed for his hand. I squeezed. “You’re telling me things I’ve always wanted to know, Josh. That means a lot to me.”
“I think you mean a lot to me,” he said. “That’s what has got my head all fucked up right now. The pretty girl from yesterday is now the beautiful woman of today. And now I’m suddenly worried about tomorrow. That’s not how I do things.”
I swallowed hard. “Neither do I. I’m a crazy mess, Josh. I’m waitressing to survive, if that’s what you can call it. I have a chance to write and I freak out, then find every excuse not to do it. I have this… it doesn’t matter. I have to get back to the cat palace. Get ready for work later.”
“Grab a quick lunch with me first?” he asked.
“Of course.”
Josh turned to walk, and I looked down one last time.
The little headstone in the ground… the first three letters…
Del
I pulled my hand away from Josh’s.
Without thinking, I dropped down to one knee and reached forward. I hurried to wipe away old leaves, grass clippings, and the overgrowth that hid the rest of the name. My mind, searching for a story already, said the name was Delilah. That was the name on the stone and the name in the letter. Which would mean…
“Delaney,” I whispered.
“What are you doing?” Josh asked.
I looked at him.
His face twisted in what looked like anger.
“Nothing,” I said. “I thought I saw… who is this?”
“Nobody,” he said. “We need to leave right now.”
There were two years on the little stone. Three years apart.
That’s when it hit me that this was the grave of a three-year-old girl.
“Josh…”
He was on the move toward his SUV.
Something just happened.
I stepped over a line.
Chasing a story that wasn’t there.
And yet again, it was another piece of the puzzle that made up Josh.
Chapter 26
Friendship Fancy
THEN
(Amelia)
My best friend was named Margaret. I called her my best friend, but I had no idea what she called me. We had known each other since we were eight years old. That whole casual friendship thing because we sat next to each other in class. That’s all it was. As we kept getting the same classes over and over together. We talked more. We laughed. We helped each other. Then came the day she asked me to go to her house after school.
It seemed like a good idea.
Her father was a doctor and her mother used to be a nurse. She lived at the top of town where all the rich people lived. Her house had three stories plus a finished basement. There were more rooms and doors than I had ever seen in a house. Her father insisted on being called Dr. Bill. Her mother made me call her Donna.
They were too much, in a good way. They weren’t shy about hugging.
Margaret had every toy and every video game system possible.
The second I stepped foot into that house, I knew our friendship was screwed. I’d never be able to have Margaret come to my house. Ever. It was far too dangerous. It was far too messy. And even if my father was gone for a day - or forever - my house was a total embarrassment. But I never wanted it to seem like I was mooching off Margaret and her family.
I knew that would happen… and only time would prove me right.
The hardest part of life were the random days. People looked forward to Friday to have the weekend. Teachers got a break. Students got a break. Or people looked forward to a certain night at a restaurant for food and drinks. Or people looked forward to Halloween, Thanksgiving, and Christmas.
For me, it was always the random days.
I was at Margaret’s house on a Wednesday.
Dr. Bill was home to have dinner with his family, and I guess that included me.
We were eating some kind of fancy steak - London Broil - while Dr. Bill and Donna sipped wine and listened to classical music. Margaret and I stared at each other from across the table and giggled when the music got faster, and Dr. Bill waved his hands in the air as though he controlled the music.
As much as I enjoyed myself, I felt really jealous.
Jealous that Margaret got this every night of her life. Even the nights Dr. Bill wasn’t home because he was at the hospital doing surgery, she still got to live in this house. Margaret had her own living room, toy room, computer room. Her bedroom was bigger than half my house. And on the third floor was a giant playroom for her.
But I refused to be angry at Margaret. It wasn’t her fault.
I wanted to be her friend forever.
Not because she was rich.
But because she was nice. And her parents loved each other. And they were nice.
“Would you like another helping, Amelia?” Donna asked me.
“I couldn’t,” I said.
“Says who?” Dr. Bill asked.
My cheeks turned red. “I…”
“Are you still hungry?” he asked me.
I nodded.
“Then eat,” he said. “Feed that brain of yours.”
I smiled. “Okay.”
“Here, let me get you more,” Donna said.
She leaned across the table and cut another piece of meat.
My eyes moved left to right watching the way Dr. Bill stared at his wife. It was the only time he seemed to forget about the music. It was really sweet to see. Because the opposite end of that…
There was a pounding on the back door next to the kitchen.
I cringed.
My mother never used the front door.
She refused to walk the steps so she would go alongside the house, up the massive driveway and park at the back door, which was next to the kitchen.
She never rang the doorbell out of habit because our doorbell didn’t work.
“That’s my mother,” I said. I jumped up. “I’d better go.”
“You’re eating,” Dr. Bill said.
The pounding kept going.
Donna made a move toward the door.
My entire body started to shake.
I glanced at Margaret.
She knew bits and pieces of my life.
I saw the look of sorrow climb across her face.
Donna opened the door. “Well, hello!”
“Where’s Amelia? We have to leave.”
“She’s in the middle of eating,” Donna said. “Say, have you had dinner yet? I don’t think we’ve formally-”
“Fly, baby, fly!” Mom’s voice carried through the house.
“Oh, a singer?” Donna asked with a laugh. “You’ll love the way my husband orchestrates music that he knows nothing about!”
“I studied classical music in college!” Dr. Bill called out.
They were all laughing.
I wasn’t.
Things were bad.
Things were really bad.
Mom’s car growled thanks to a busted muffler.