Craving Redemption (20 page)

I straightened up the house a little and made myself a pizza pocket while I waited for and dreaded my nightly phone calls. Gram called every night if I hadn’t called her by eight o’clock. It was reassuring to know that she was checking up on me, but that night I was on pins and needles waiting for my phone to ring.

For the first time since I’d moved, I didn’t want to talk to her.

When she finally called, my phone startled me by vibrating on the kitchen counter. I walked over to check the caller ID, but didn’t even pick it up. I was afraid that if I did, I wouldn’t be able to stop myself from answering, just to hear her voice. If it had been any other night, I would have relished the phone call. But, I knew if I picked up the phone I’d be able to hear the grief in her voice and I didn’t think I could handle it. So I just stood there, staring at it until it stopped vibrating, not even checking the voicemail that she’d left.

As I got ready for bed, I carried my phone around with me. I was planning on avoiding Asa’s call, too, but oddly I didn’t want to miss it. I was too raw, and I was picturing him in Oregon with a whole other family, my imagination running wild. I didn’t think I’d be able to talk to him although I wanted to hear his voice just as badly as my Gram’s.

It wasn’t until I was in bed, surrounded by the comfort of my blankets, that I worked up the courage to listen to Gram’s voicemail.

Hey, baby girl. I’m sure you’re having a hell of a day… just text me and let me know you’re all right. Okay? I can’t figure out this damn phone to text you back, but I’ll be able to see if you send me one. If you don’t, I’m gonna worry… I dropped your brother at the airport this afternoon and he seemed okay—but you might want to call him in the morning. He’s missing you like crazy… Okay, well, I’m gonna get off of here. I’ll be heading out bright and early in the morning—so I should be up there around dinner time. I love you, Callie Rose.

I listened to her voicemail twice before pulling the phone away from my face and texting her that I loved her. It felt like years since I’d seen her, and I couldn’t wait for her to get there the next day. I even giggled a bit at her complaints about not being able to work her cell phone.

As I lay awake that night, listening to the sounds of the apartments around mine, I felt calmer than I had in days. I’d successfully made it through one of the hardest days of my life.

But when I finally drifted off to sleep, my heart ached.

And Asa never called.

Chapter 31

Callie

Gram showed up half an hour after I got home from school. I’d barely set down my messenger bag and stuffed my dirty laundry into my bedroom closet before she was knocking. I practically skipped to the front door and swung it open hard after I’d unlatched the locks.

She didn’t even make it past the threshold before I was in her arms.

“Hey, baby girl,” she whispered into the side of my head, giving me a kiss before she pushed me away so she could look me over.

“Well, you haven’t starved to death,” she commented as she pushed her purse higher on her shoulder. “But you look skinnier.”

“That’s what happens when you don’t eat fried food every night,” I joked before stopping short.

“Hey, now, none of that,” she said forcefully as she poked me in the side and walked past. “Can’t be careful of everything you say, baby. Things are different for you now, no use pretending otherwise.”

I closed the door and locked it before following Gram to where she was standing in the middle of the kitchen.

“What?” I asked nervously. She was just standing there, her eyes darting from the floor to the cabinets above the sink.

“You cleaned up since you moved in?” she asked as she dropped her purse on the counter.

“Yeah,” I looked around in confusion, “I straighten up before I go to bed at night.”

“Callie, you actually have to
wash
things,” she told me in exasperation as she turned on the water in the sink, pulling the little metal strainer thing out and reaching in with her fingers to clean out the drain.

“I
do
wash things!” I snapped back, embarrassed.

“Your mother did you no favors by following you around and cleaning up your messes,” she mumbled, shaking her head.

My back snapped straight at her comment and my stomach began to churn.

“Don’t talk bad about my mom,” I growled at her, causing her head to whip toward me.

“I’m not talking bad about anyone,” she answered, her eyebrows raised. “I loved your mother, Callie. Don’t you talk to me like I’d ever say a word against her.”

“You didn’t even
talk
to her! You wouldn’t even come to our
house
!” I practically screeched back at her, my hands trembling. I didn’t know where it was coming from, but I couldn’t stop the words spewing from my mouth. “She wasn’t welcome at
your
house! Dad had to visit you by himself!”

She raised her hand as if to smack me, but dropped it back down at her side as she took a step away from me. We were both shaking by then, my awful words hanging like a dark cloud above our heads.

“I loved your mother, Calliope. As if she were my own child,” she told me quietly, her words thick with tears. “When your father brought her home, I couldn’t help but love her.”

She sniffed quietly and started messing with the sink again as I leaned heavily against the counter.

“She told me that my boys deserved what they got,” she whispered, never looking away from the bottom of the sink. “I knew she was hurting. We all were. But I couldn’t look at her after that. Every time I saw her, that’s what I thought of—those awful words she said to me after the funeral.”

She was quiet for a few more moments before saying something that was so quiet, I had to strain to hear her. “I loved your mother, and I refused to see her for years. That’s my cross to bear.”

My anger fled in a puff of smoke and remorse instantly took its place. I walked up behind her, wrapped my arms around her middle, and rested my chin lightly on her shoulder.

“What do you mean, when dad brought her home?” I asked, giving her a little squeeze and teasing to lighten the mood. “Did you guys live together? One big happy family?”

I’d been joking, so when she nodded her head, I was stunned.

“What? Why?” I asked, my voice high in surprise.

“Well, she was young. Just eighteen when your dad found her—”

“
Found
her?” I squeaked, my voice growing even higher.

“Ugh. Sit down, Callie, before you hurt yourself,” she said in exasperation, all traces of our argument absent from her tone. She pushed me toward one of the stools and slapped a wet washcloth on the counter, nodding her head at it as if to tell me to get started.

As I started cleaning off dried juice and what looked like Easy-Mac off the counter, she told me my parents’ story.

“Your dad was… eh, about twenty-three when he brought her home. Poor thing was black and blue, and your dad wasn’t much better.” She shook her head at the memory. “I cleaned ‘em both up and put your mama to bed. I’ll never forget the look on your dad’s face when he informed me quite strongly that she was staying with me. He didn’t have his own place back then, but he was rarely at my place, either.”

She paused to search for the broom, then once she started sweeping, continued with the story.

“Well, I wasn’t having none of that!” she chuckled quietly in her throat. “Made your dad explain as much as he was willing—which wasn’t much. But from what I pried out of him—your mama was from a little town in Mexico. She was real smart, so her parents were hoping to send her to a college up here in the States, you know, give her more opportunities than she would have had back home.”

“So my dad met her while she was in college?” I asked her, becoming impatient by the slow way she gave me the facts.

“Stop interrupting me if you want me to finish!” she warned, as she lifted the broom off the floor and swatted my legs with it from across the room.

“Okay, fine!” I giggled back, pulling my legs up in front of me.

“Well, her parents made a deal with some boys from up here, promising that they’d get her into a school and whatnot.” She glanced at me, giving a small shake of her head. “They didn’t. The Jimenez brothers—”

“Jimenez!” I gasped, dropping the wash cloth onto the floor.

“Yup, same ones. Pick up that washcloth and get a new one. This floor is filthy,” she ordered, brushing dirt into a dustpan I didn’t even know I owned.

“Anyway, they brought her up here, didn’t plan on helping her do anything, and that’s where your dad came in. He took one look at that girl and had to have her. I’m not sure what happened, but your uncles backed him up and he took her home with him.”

“Why didn’t he send her home?” I asked, fascinated by this story that I’d never heard before.

“Couldn’t send her home—then she’d be right back where she started,” she told me offhandedly, as if it was a simple thing to understand.

I finished up the counter, which was pretty much spotless at that point, and started washing down the front of my cabinets quietly. I needed a few minutes to process the new information I’d been given. I never asked my parents how they’d met, it hadn’t seemed important, but I suddenly wished that I had.

“It’s history repeating itself,” I murmured to myself.

“What?” Gram called out from the corner of the kitchen where she’d started to mop the floor.

“It’s history repeating itself,” I said again, my voice carrying across the kitchen.

“Well, I wouldn’t say it’s
repeating
itself, but it does seem pretty similar,” she answered distractedly as she scrubbed a stubborn spot on the floor with her foot pushing on the head of the mop.

“Is that why you let me move with Asa?” I asked as I stood, stretching my back.

“Your Asa looks at you the same way my boy looked at your mother,” she told me seriously, pausing in her mopping to look me directly in the eye. “And your father would have never let anything happen to your mother if he could stop it.”

My throat burned with tears I refused to let fall, but instead of acknowledging her words, I bent down and started cleaning the front of the oven.

Later, I followed her around the house, helping her clean and burning in embarrassment when she opened my closet full of dirty laundry and gave me an equally dirty look before scooping it into her arms.

“This is disgraceful, Callie!” she told me with a disgusted sniff, dropping the laundry in the middle of my bedroom floor.

“I was in a hurry!” I griped back.

“I’m gonna make you a list,” she huffed as she stripped the sheets off my bed. “Things you have to do every day, things you need to do twice a week, and things you can get by with doing only once a week. You follow my list and you won’t have to live in a pit.”

“It’s not a pit!” I argued, my hands on my hips as I watched her wrestle with my comforter. 

“It’s a pit.”

I helped Gram remake my bed before we headed out for dinner with her grumbling that she was too tired to cook. I felt like shit that she’d driven all day and then cleaned my house all afternoon, but I also knew that she’d loved it. She lived to take care of her kids, and in a weird way I think my living in a pigsty made her feel validated. I really
did
need her—at least to help me clean up my shit.

After we curled up in bed that night, on sheets fresh out of their packaging, we talked for hours about everything and nothing. I fell asleep as she ran her fingers through my hair and spoke about the latest drama in her trailer park. I didn’t have nightmares at all that night.

Gram’s visit was over before we knew it, and I had to say goodbye once again. She was able to stay with me for nine days, and it had been blissful having her there when I got home from school each day. She’d brought up garbage bags full of my clothes, four loaves of freshly baked banana bread, and an entire box full of homemade jams and canned fruits with her. It was like heaven having all of it at my disposal.

But the best part of having her there was just… her. She made me feel like a kid again, and I soaked it up like a sponge.

While we were having our visit, Asa only called twice. He didn’t even seem to notice that something was off—but he still told me that he’d let me have time with Gram without “interruptions”. I wasn’t sure if he was being thoughtful, or if he was grateful he didn’t have to babysit me long distance. I was able to ignore the feeling nagging in my gut that something was off while Gram was there, but it seemed as if the minute she left for San Diego I was hit with a massive force of anxiety.

Why wasn’t he calling?

Chapter 32

Grease

When I left Callie in Sacramento, I was anxious as fuck to get away from her. I’d wanted her dependent on me, and I loved the fact that she looked at me like she needed me… but the reality of that was a little more than I could handle. Part of me had wanted to stay with her and take care of her, and the other part of me wanted to just get back to where my fucking world made sense.

By the time I’d pulled up to the club, I was fucking beat. I barely said hello to the boys before slamming into my room and passing out on the bed. I didn’t want to move for at
least
twenty-four hours.

The next day, Slider called me into his office to get a rundown on the nonsense down in San Diego, and I had to wait through his ranting and raving before I could try and explain. I knew Poet had already called him, and he was just trying to make a point, but I still walked him through the entire episode. I thought his head was going to explode when I told him about Jose trying to fuck us over, and when I described the Jimenez boys showing up at Rose’s I saw a vein on his temple throbbing above his clenched jaw. He was pissed.

The rest of the week was pretty uneventful until Callie went radio silent on Friday night. Since I’d arrived at the club on Monday, I’d been giving her a call every night, but doing whatever the fuck I wanted the rest of the time. I wasn’t going on any runs, and the mechanic shop we ran as a legitimate business was pretty dead, so I didn’t have a lot of work to do.