Hallowed Ground by Lori G. Armstrong

place,” I said.

    “Let me explain something about Harvey.”

    I held up a hand. “Don’t.” Don’t make me feel sorry for him; don’t humanize him. I needed Harvey to be the bad guy because if he wasn’t, who was?

    “Don’t what? Tell you that his mother killed herself by driving drunk? How Rondelle survived but their sixteen-year old brother Lonnie didn’t?”

    “Martinez, don’t do this.”

    His boots whumped the floor. “She was ten years old and Harvey couldn’t get custody of her because he had a felony. He had to watch his only surviving family member shuffled from foster home to foster home on the reservation, and he couldn’t do a damn thing about it.”

    I squeezed my eyes shut and was tempted to clap my hands over my ears.

    He scooted closer; his melodious voice held a knife’s edge. “Rondelle believed he’d abandoned her. Nothing he did for her was ever enough. She totally rejected him.”

    An image of my father appeared. Ben had dealt with his rejection from our father by establishing a relationship with me. Not for the first time I wondered if Ben’s motives in getting to know me were fuelled by revenge on our father.

    “When she got pregnant at nineteen,” Martinez continued, “she had nowhere else to go—”

    “So she finally came to Harvey.”

    “Yes.”

    “Where was Donovan during this time?”

    “In Pine Ridge. Drunk, unemployed, unable to take on the responsibility of a baby. Harvey mostly kept Rondelle off the booze during her pregnancy. After Chloe was born, Rondelle became the party girl again.”

    I opened my eyes. “How long did Harvey take care of Chloe?”

    “A year. While Rondelle played at being a mother, Harvey changed diapers and made sure Chloe had food in her belly.”

    Don’t ask , my brain warned. My mouth opened like a drawbridge anyway. “Rondelle’s mother was dead. Where was her father?”

    “In the state pen.”

    I examined the silver buckles on my shoes. “Shit.”

    “Considering the alternatives, it was a good thing Donovan sobered up and stepped up to his responsibilities. Still, Rondelle saw an opportunity to hurt Harvey like she believed he’d hurt her.”

    “Oh no.”

    “Oh yes,” Martinez mocked. “She moved. Didn’t stay in one place more than a few months.
    Drove Harvey nuts when he didn’t know where they were.”

    I’d been through that when Ben disappeared. It’d driven me crazy and driven a wedge in my marriage that had splintered it completely.

    “Things haven’t improved. Rondelle still uses Chloe as leverage. Harvey, being Harvey, pushes the issue and ends up pushing Rondelle further away.”

    Silence weighed between us while I processed the information. Everyone I came in contact with had family issues. Nothing easy and simple like Mom and Dad occasionally playing favorites, but deep-rooted hatred stemming from tragedy—whether accidental or intentional.

    I sighed. “This is so fucked up. Is everybody’s family like this?”

    “Guess we’re just the unlucky ones.”

    “Yours too?”

    “You have no idea.”

    I waited for him to elaborate. He didn’t.

    “I’ll get started on this again Monday.”

    Martinez lifted both brows. “Not tomorrow?”

    “I wish. Instead I get to suffer through a family thing.” The clock on the far side of the room caught my attention as it clicked to 9:00. “Look. I’ve gotta go.”

    Maybe I could block this night, last night, and tomorrow from my memory banks with earsplitting music and cold beer.

    He placed his palm on my knee. “Stay.”

    A simple request. But hanging around would be a stupid move on my part, despite my body going soft simply from the heat of his hand.

    “I can’t,” I said with genuine regret.

    His hand slid away. A heartbeat later his fingers were on my chin, turning my face toward his. “I wish you’d stop running from this.”

    “Why?”

    “Because it’s gonna catch us eventually.”

    I wanted to deny it. I