All the Little Lights
Page 27

“You’ll have to let me go first, Duke,” I said, balling my hand into a fist.
He looked down at my hand and then turned me loose, shoving me away. I walked to the laundry, seeing the towels Althea had folded perfectly on top of the dryer. I took five thickly stacked white towels to Duke’s regular room, knocking first. He didn’t answer, so I cracked the door open.
“Hello?” I asked, hoping for Poppy, or Mama, or anyone but Duke.
I stepped across the empty bedroom, noting Duke’s still-made bed and the open, empty suitcase on the stand next to the dresser. Hanging in the closet were all-too-familiar suits, allowing the always-present dull ache for my dad to grow into full-blown grief. I always missed him, but it didn’t hurt until it did, and then realization and sadness crashed over me in waves. I had gotten better about crying on the inside. Shedding tears didn’t change anything anyway.
The bathroom was clean, the shower curtain closed. I bent down in front of the wooden shelf in the corner, placing the folded, fluffy white towels there.
The rings on the shower curtain clicked behind me, and I stood, closing my eyes, waiting for whoever was standing there to make their presence known. When nothing happened, I turned around, noticing that the air conditioner had kicked on. The air blew through the vent, making the shower curtain gently wave.
I breathed out, relieved, and then quickly left the room, taking the rest of the towels into Mama’s room, saving just one for me. The rest of the rooms were vacant, but I looked for dirty laundry anyway and then carried a nearly empty basket back downstairs, starting a small load in the washer.
As water began to fill the deep basin, I silently cursed myself. It was stupid to leave my chores to someone else. I knew better, but ignoring my responsibilities for Elliott was exactly what had to be avoided. Keeping secrets meant not drawing attention to the Juniper, and Duke getting angry enough to stay somewhere else for the night would draw attention. I could just imagine him taking his ratty, olive-green suitcase to the Holiday Inn in the next town over, causing a scene at the desk while he tried to check in with an ID that didn’t match his name. We had to keep him happy, otherwise the very worst would happen, and I wasn’t even sure what that was except for knowing they would take Mama and me away from each other. Maybe for good.
I spent the next hour cleaning, and just as I finished a noodle casserole, I heard the door open and close. I wasn’t sure if it was Duke or Mama, so I waited for the sound of footsteps on the stairs.
I tensed. Duke was already back. “Are there any damn towels?” he yelled as he neared the top floor. “Every time I step outside in this godforsaken town, I’m drenched in sweat.”
“There are fresh towels in your room,” I called.
He stomped down the stairs, and I stiffened. “Did you just yell at me, little girl?”
“No, I called to you like you did to me.”
He narrowed his eyes and then wrinkled his nose, sniffing. He leaned over to look at the casserole dish behind me. “What’s that?”
“Noodle casserole. Mama’s recipe.”
“I’ve had that before.”
I had to think back to remember when the last time was that we’d had it and when he was here. It was possible. “It’ll be ready in an hour.” I turned the dial to 250 degrees.
“It better be. The service around here is worse than having to waste away in this crap town.”
“If there’s anything else you need, please let me know.”
He stomped over to me, leaning in just inches from my face. I looked at the floor.
“You tryna get rid of me, girl?” His teeth ground against one another, and he breathed through his nose again. The sound reminded me of a wild animal getting ready to charge.
I shook my head. “I’m just trying to make up for my mistake before. I want you to be happy here.” Duke wouldn’t be able to go anywhere but the Juniper even if someone did let him check in. With his demeanor and his sneaking around, no one would let him stay longer than a night if at all, and I was certain he couldn’t afford anywhere else anyway. Besides, I worried for Poppy if he did.
Duke sat up. “Happy, huh?”
I nodded. The oven beeped, and I opened the door, sliding in the casserole. I faced Duke, his round eyes bulging from the anger that always seemed to boil inside of him. “Can I? Get you anything else?”
One of his eyes twitched, but he said nothing.
I offered a forced smile and then made my way to the front door, my feet moving faster with each step. By the time I pushed through to the porch, I ran straight into Elliott.
“Whoa! Hey,” he said with a smile. It quickly faded when he saw the look on my face. “Are you all right?”
I glanced behind me. “What are you doing here?”
He smirked. “I was in the neighborhood.”
I pushed him out the door. “We should go. C’mon.”
“Where?” he asked, glancing at Duke behind me. He was standing next to the bottom of the stairs, watching us from under his brows.
“Anywhere. Please, let’s just go.”
“Okay,” Elliott said, taking my hand. He led me down the steps, down the uneven sidewalk, and out the gate, letting it crash behind us. We walked toward the park, and the farther we got from my house, the less panicked I felt.
Elliott didn’t ask me any questions while we walked, which I appreciated even more than his hand still encompassing mine. It was impossible to hate him, no matter how much I tried. Once we reached the curb that bordered the clearing surrounded by birch and maple trees, I tugged on Elliott’s hand, choosing the far bench. It was next to a smelly trash can but had the better shade.
I relaxed against the back of the bench, willing my heartbeat to slow. My hands were shaking. Duke didn’t come around often, but when he did, it was terrifying.
“Catherine, are you okay?” Elliott finally asked after several minutes of silence. “You looked scared.”
“I’m okay,” I said. “You just startled me.”
“Then what was that all about?”
“I forgot to stock the rooms with towels last night. One of the guests was upset.”
Elliott wasn’t convinced. “Are you that afraid of getting in trouble?”
I didn’t answer.
Elliott sighed. “You don’t have to tell me unless someone is hurting you. Is someone? Hurting you?”
“No.”
He was deciding if he should believe me or not, and then he nodded. “I saw you at school today. I called your name. You didn’t answer.”
“When?” I asked.
“At lunch. You’d just gotten up to throw away your tray. I tried to catch up with you, but you rounded the corner and disappeared.”
“Oh.”
“What do you mean, ‘oh’?”
“I ducked into the bathroom. Presley and the clones were headed in my direction.”
“So you hid?”
“It’s better than the alternative.”
“Which is?”
“Engaging.” I glanced down at his watch. “What time is it?”
“Almost seven.”
The sun was already setting. “Shouldn’t you be at football practice?”
He looked down at himself, and I realized what a sweaty, dirty mess he was, still in a football T-shirt and navy-blue practice shorts. “I came straight over. I dunno. I had a bad feeling, and as soon as I walked onto the porch, you came barreling into me. Now we’re sitting here like nothing happened. I’m worried about you.”