Clockwiser (7 page)

Duncan was watching them, too.

“You going to dance?” I said.

He shook his head. “No, I’m not, I don’t, it’s no...”

“Whoa, don’t hurt yourself.” I patted him on the back. “Someone has to keep watch over here.” I looked over his shoulders and saw Josie staring our way. She was extra pretty tonight with long ringlets that hung down her back and a ribbon in her hair. I’d better get over there if I wanted to stay in her good books.

I started across the floor, and she met me in the middle, her face wearing a brilliant smile. Maybe wool pants were considered hot in the 1800s.

I offered both of my hands, hoping she’d guide me. She understood and placed my right hand on her waist and took my left hand in hers. Her other hand rested on my shoulder. A safe adult approved six inches remained between our bodies like a force field.

“I don’t know what to do,” I confessed.

“You never went to a dance in Springfield? Did your mother not teach you?”

“Uh, my mother wasn’t well.”

“It’s okay, I’ll lead.”

I followed her footsteps, only landing on her toe once, and we managed to move in some kind of circle.

The music was loud enough that you couldn’t hear the shuffling of our feet, but not so loud that we couldn’t talk, unlike at home when you had to shout in your partner’s ear if you wanted to say something.

Thinking of home made me a little, I don’t know, home-sick? A pit had grown in my gut and that surprised me. For months now all I’d wanted to do was get away from my house and my family. Here I was, independent of them, dancing with a pretty girl, and I felt a little depressed.

Josie noticed, her lips pulled down in a cute little pout. “Is everything okay, Timothy?”

“Yeah, fine.” I forced a smile. “I was just wondering. How often does my sister come to work for your family?”

“Well, it’s hard to say with her. She comes and goes a lot but doesn’t really ever stay that long.” Her eyes sparkled with a memory. “Once, there was this big scandal.”

“Scandal?” That surprised me. Casey was as good as they came. She never did anything
wrong
. It wouldn’t occur to me to put the words “scandal” and “Casey” in the same sentence.

“Yes,” Josie’s full red lips turned up. “A very wealthy man, who turned out to be scoundrel, asked Cassandra to marry him. In front of everyone at a banquet he hosted at his mansion. Can you imagine?”

No I couldn’t. “A rich guy actually proposed to my sister?”

“She never mentioned this?”

I shook my head.

“Your brother Nathaniel was very troubled by the matter.”

“I bet he was.” I smiled at what must’ve been a nasty situation for perfect Nate Mackenzie. “So what happened?”

“Cassandra said, ‘Maybe.’ Softly, like a little mouse. But the hall was so quiet that everyone heard her. Mr. Willingsworth’s face grew red with embarrassment, but he recovered by making a joke and basically ordered everyone to get back to eating.”

I chuckled. I would’ve liked to have seen that. What a surprise Casey had turned out to be with this secret adventurous life.

Why did all the good things always happen to her?

“When was the last time Case, uh, Cassandra came to stay with you?”

“Eight months? A year? I can’t remember.”

“A year?” I was stunned. I imagined being left here for a day or two, maybe a week, but a year? Suddenly my throat had grown very dry.

The song ended, and Josie led me to the refreshment table, where we were given lukewarm, sweetened tea. No ice, of course. I chugged mine back and asked for more.

In the corner a group of young guys had gathered in a crooked line up.

“What’s going on over there?” I asked Josie.

“That’s the recruiting table. President Lincoln has put a call out for more volunteers.”

I put my empty cup on the table and started walking. A poster hung off the end of the table.

“We’re making it easy for fellows who can’t make it into Boston,” the guy behind the table said when he caught my eye.

“Timothy?” Josie tugged on my sleeve. “What are you doing?”

“I’m volunteering.” I just wanted one battle, then I’d sneak off and be back at the Watson farm before Casey returned. If I had to choose between weeding and shooting, I’d take shooting any day.

Chapter Nine

CASEY

Mom’s panic peaked at about ten o’clock that night. It started off with frantic cleaning. First, she pushed all her home decorating samples--carpets, paint chips, window blinds--into the corner of the dining room. Then we were assaulted with the loud whine of the vacuum cleaner. After that she madly scrubbed the kitchen counter tops and the window sills.

I shrugged apologetically at Nate. I hated that he had to be here to witness our family drama, but I couldn’t let him out of my sight. I didn’t know when the next trip would trigger, and I’d promised him I’d take him with me. I wasn’t sure how that would help, though. Then I’d just have two guys to have to find and hold onto when the dizziness began, and there was always the risk that I’d leave one or both of them behind again.

I leaned into him from our spot on the couch. “You should go.”

“But...”

“It’s okay. I’ll go to bed soon. I never travel while I’m sleeping.”

Nate nodded then. I had a feeling the whole fracturing-family scene was making him uncomfortable. “I’ll be over first thing in the morning. We’ll find a way to trigger a trip back.”

I followed Nate to the front door and kissed him good night. Then I took a deep breath, steadying myself to face whatever came next.

Mom’s lips thinned into a tight line. “We need to call the police,” she said.

Dad had been staring at his touch tablet, but I don’t think he’d actually touched it in the last half hour. “He’s only been gone a few hours,” he said. “He’s sixteen, not six. They’re not going to take it seriously.

“But he left his car,” Mom insisted. “I found his cell phone and his wallet in the glove compartment. He wouldn’t go anywhere without those.”

Dad rubbed his balding head and puffed loudly through his nose. “Okay, I’ll call.”

I felt sick. There was no way they were going to find him tonight, and probably not tomorrow or the next day either. Before too long I’d be staring at Tim’s face on the back of a milk carton.

Mom sat on the couch in the living room, leaning forward over her lap. A tear escaped down her face and I offered her a tissue.

“I’m sure he’s fine, Mom.”

She blew her nose, her face turning an unflattering shade of red. “Yeah, then where is he?”

I sat beside her, curling my feet under me. “I don’t know, but he’ll come home eventually.”

“I called all his friends. None of them know where he is. Or, at least that’s what they’re saying.”

Dad interrupted. “The police are on their way.”

I closed my eyes and muffled a groan. The police were going to question me. I had to get my story straight. Did any of the neighbors see me fighting with Tim at his car? I wracked my brain trying to remember. They always seemed to be out and about at the most inconvenient times. Like last year when Tim got escorted home by the police for allegedly stealing cigarettes. News of yet another family humiliation (the first being the separation of my parents), hit Facebook almost immediately. I thought of Chase Miller. Had he been loitering outside, as seemed to be his habit?

The doorbell rang, and Dad let in two police officers who introduced themselves then followed Dad into the living room.

They asked Mom and Dad a bunch of questions about Tim, and I winced when they described him as angry and rebellious. My mother broke down in tears again when she told them about finding drugs in his room.

Tim was going to be in a heap of trouble when he got back, and likely he’d be blaming me. If he hadn’t gotten left in the past, the police wouldn’t have been involved.

Okay, I kind of expected to be questioned but not to be treated like a suspect. Two officers stood before me. A tall one with a comb-over and a mustache, and his younger, shorter sidekick. I sat on the couch and the way they stared down at me made me feel like I was back in fifth grade hiding a wad of gum in my cheek when Mrs. Black demanded to look inside my mouth.

“When was the last time you saw your brother?” The tall one said.

I couldn’t help staring at his mustache, how it looked like it was growing up his nose.

I averted my eyes. “I came home just as he was leaving.”

The younger cop jotted my answer down in a notepad he’d ceremoniously flicked open.

“What were you doing just before you got home?” the first officer asked.

“Saying good -bye to my boyfriend in the front yard.”

“Who’s your boyfriend?”

“Nate Mackenzie.” The officer with the note pad jotted his name down. I shifted nervously. I really hoped I hadn’t gotten him in trouble somehow.

“Did you know your brother was doing drugs?” The mustache officer asked.

“No,” I stated emphatically. “And just to be clear, there’s no proof he was doing drugs.”

The officer’s eyebrows jumped a little, giving away his personal doubt.

“According to your mother, he was in possession.”

“Well, that doesn’t actually mean they were his.”

My mother butted in. “Just like the cigarettes weren’t his.”

Please, Mom, you’re not helping.

“Do you know who he got the drugs from?”

I wondered why no one had told him the mustache just wasn’t working. Didn’t he have a wife or a mother?

“No,” I said.

“Your boyfriend maybe?”

“No!”

My strong answer made the note-taker look up.

Mustache said, “You’re sure about that?”

I kept my voice steady. “Yes, I’m sure. Nate and Tim never hung out. They don’t really like each other.”

“Why is that?”

Oh, why did I add that last bit? These guys were making me nervous, and I wiped sweat off my top lip. I probably totally looked like I was lying. Which I was. It was a necessary evil. If I told them the truth, they’d probably lock me up.

“Miss Donovan?”

“Tim’s just not that friendly. Maybe he didn’t like me dating an older guy. Nate doesn’t like how Tim treats the family.”

“How much older is Nate?”

Oh my God, how did this get to be about Nate?

“Two years.”

“Do you have an address for Mr. Mackenzie?”

“Why?” I started to freak. “This has nothing to do with him.”

“We’ll be the ones to determine if that’s the case, miss.”

I reluctantly told them his address and the note taker jotted it down. At least I knew they wouldn’t find anything incriminating, but I felt bad that Nate would have to go through an uncomfortable interrogation. And I hoped he wouldn’t unintentionally say anything that could complicate matters.

Like I just did.

They left saying they’d contact us the moment they had any news. I went directly up the steps to my room, with mom and dad glaring at my back. I knew they didn’t believe me, either.

I woke the next morning to Lucinda’s ring tone. I could picture her petite self pushing her long black hair--hair I’d spent most of my existence coveting--behind her ears and tucking her cell phone against the side of her face.