whacked around didn’t seem so bad. At least Melissa knew what she was dealing with. At least in the trailer a wolf looked like a wolf.
She faked a yawn. “I’m going back upstairs now. Linda, when I get up I’ll be happy to help you plan your dinner party.”
Baxter’s fork, speared into a large bite of omelet, stopped midair. Just for a second. “That’s nice of you.” He popped the fork into his mouth and chewed, no guile whatsoever in his expression. He drew the newspaper toward him and focused on the front page.
“That’ll be great.” Linda kept her head down as she turned to replace the pan in the cabinet. “See you in a few hours.”
Melissa left the room.
Halfway up the stairs she lingered, leaning over the banister toward the kitchen. But she heard no voices. She imagined Baxter finishing his omelet. Would Linda turn to him, defiantly display her red cheek? Was she whispering a threat to tell?
Not a sound.
Melissa hung there for a moment, staring at nothing, then trudged up the stairs. Who would Linda tell anyway? And why? She had everything. A mansion to live in, beautiful clothes, a BMW. All the money she wanted. And she didn’t even have to work for it. Who wouldn’t put up with some bad stuff for all that?
Who wouldn’t lie and pretend everything was A-okay?
Melissa padded down the long hall, reached her bedroom, and shut the door behind her. The sun had risen higher now, the room glowing a warm blue. Her eyes fixed on her desk chair, sitting where she’d left it—under the heater vent. Melissa hurried over to the chair, picked it up, and returned it to its proper place. Then stood in the middle of the room, mind churning. What if Baxter had noticed her open door at this end of the hall? What if he’d come in here, seen the chair? He’d figure out in a heartbeat she’d been listening.
But then, even if he knew, he wasn’t about to let on, was he? His knowing would just be one more part of this game.
Melissa thrust her hands into her hair and sank upon her bed. She focused on her knees, pulling her whirling thoughts together. Okay. Fine. So this new reality wasn’t quite what she’d dreamed. So what? She could handle it. She’d survived her entire miserable life, hadn’t she? Would she rather go back into the system, take a chance on another foster home? It would likely be way worse than this.
She’d just have to be more careful. Watch her back. Make sure she did everything necessary to keep from getting kicked out.
Melissa sat up and raised her gaze toward the heavens. Really, how was this any different than what she’d been doing ever since she’d gotten here—pretending to be what they wanted her to be?
Let Baxter and Linda play their game. She’d beat them both at it.
TWENTY
FEBRUARY 2010
Baxter Jackson. Outside my house.
I shoved from my chair, heart tripping into overdrive. My hand flew up and hit the water bottle. It tipped over, spilling onto the desk, then rolled off and hit the floor with a plastic glug . I snatched it up and set it aside. Grabbed the computer mouse and minimized my HM file screen.
Steps sounded outside. And men’s voices. Baxter wasn’t alone.
The doorbell rang.
I shrank into the middle of the office, away from the window. Looked around wildly.
A knock sounded at the door. “Joanne? You home?”
Pastor Steve’s voice.
My hands pressed against my cheeks. Pastor Steve’s presence was good news. He’d never want to hurt me. But he and Baxter together here—on a Sunday morning? Steve would be preaching at the church service at 11:00.
What was this?
My feet moved me toward the door. Before opening it I shoved back my shoulders, steeled myself. Caffeine and fright zinged through my veins. My face felt hot.
I opened the door and somehow found my voice. “Hi, Steve.” My eyes remained on my pastor. “Baxter.”
Steve shot me a smile. “Sorry to show up on your doorstep like this, Joanne. Baxter and I met early at church this
She faked a yawn. “I’m going back upstairs now. Linda, when I get up I’ll be happy to help you plan your dinner party.”
Baxter’s fork, speared into a large bite of omelet, stopped midair. Just for a second. “That’s nice of you.” He popped the fork into his mouth and chewed, no guile whatsoever in his expression. He drew the newspaper toward him and focused on the front page.
“That’ll be great.” Linda kept her head down as she turned to replace the pan in the cabinet. “See you in a few hours.”
Melissa left the room.
Halfway up the stairs she lingered, leaning over the banister toward the kitchen. But she heard no voices. She imagined Baxter finishing his omelet. Would Linda turn to him, defiantly display her red cheek? Was she whispering a threat to tell?
Not a sound.
Melissa hung there for a moment, staring at nothing, then trudged up the stairs. Who would Linda tell anyway? And why? She had everything. A mansion to live in, beautiful clothes, a BMW. All the money she wanted. And she didn’t even have to work for it. Who wouldn’t put up with some bad stuff for all that?
Who wouldn’t lie and pretend everything was A-okay?
Melissa padded down the long hall, reached her bedroom, and shut the door behind her. The sun had risen higher now, the room glowing a warm blue. Her eyes fixed on her desk chair, sitting where she’d left it—under the heater vent. Melissa hurried over to the chair, picked it up, and returned it to its proper place. Then stood in the middle of the room, mind churning. What if Baxter had noticed her open door at this end of the hall? What if he’d come in here, seen the chair? He’d figure out in a heartbeat she’d been listening.
But then, even if he knew, he wasn’t about to let on, was he? His knowing would just be one more part of this game.
Melissa thrust her hands into her hair and sank upon her bed. She focused on her knees, pulling her whirling thoughts together. Okay. Fine. So this new reality wasn’t quite what she’d dreamed. So what? She could handle it. She’d survived her entire miserable life, hadn’t she? Would she rather go back into the system, take a chance on another foster home? It would likely be way worse than this.
She’d just have to be more careful. Watch her back. Make sure she did everything necessary to keep from getting kicked out.
Melissa sat up and raised her gaze toward the heavens. Really, how was this any different than what she’d been doing ever since she’d gotten here—pretending to be what they wanted her to be?
Let Baxter and Linda play their game. She’d beat them both at it.
TWENTY
FEBRUARY 2010
Baxter Jackson. Outside my house.
I shoved from my chair, heart tripping into overdrive. My hand flew up and hit the water bottle. It tipped over, spilling onto the desk, then rolled off and hit the floor with a plastic glug . I snatched it up and set it aside. Grabbed the computer mouse and minimized my HM file screen.
Steps sounded outside. And men’s voices. Baxter wasn’t alone.
The doorbell rang.
I shrank into the middle of the office, away from the window. Looked around wildly.
A knock sounded at the door. “Joanne? You home?”
Pastor Steve’s voice.
My hands pressed against my cheeks. Pastor Steve’s presence was good news. He’d never want to hurt me. But he and Baxter together here—on a Sunday morning? Steve would be preaching at the church service at 11:00.
What was this?
My feet moved me toward the door. Before opening it I shoved back my shoulders, steeled myself. Caffeine and fright zinged through my veins. My face felt hot.
I opened the door and somehow found my voice. “Hi, Steve.” My eyes remained on my pastor. “Baxter.”
Steve shot me a smile. “Sorry to show up on your doorstep like this, Joanne. Baxter and I met early at church this
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