Glow (9 page)

“Like you all were seriously at the police station this evening?” He narrowed his eyes at her.

Their poor dad. He wanted so badly to protect them and guide them and make sure they turned out to be good God-loving people. They’d done nothing but prove that they didn’t need his protection and that he didn’t know how to guide them, and to top it all off, what Zellie could do kinda went against God’s plan.

“I know you know we weren’t at the police station. Avery’s mom told him that you sent Mr. Adams to check on us.”

“You’re not going to tell me where you really were?” her dad asked, standing.

Melody pulled her covers up under her chin. “I wish I could.”

He shook his head. “I can’t believe a thing that comes out of you girls’ mouths anymore.”

“I know, Dad.”

He stared at her for a moment, his expression softening. Accepting what was. “Well, the new assistant pastor comes into town tomorrow. I guess I better turn in so I can be well rested for all that. It’ll be nice to have some help around the church again.” He ran a hand through his thinning blonde hair. “I suppose neither you or Zellie is going to come to the picnic? It used to be your favorite part of the Fourth.”

Actually, Zellie had liked going, but Melody had always wished she could be off with her friends celebrating and not hanging out at church watching old people dribble mustard and hot dog juice down the fronts of their polyester shirts. But, apart from going to visit Raleigh, it wasn’t like she had anything else to do during the day tomorrow. She decided to throw her old man a bone.

“I’ll be there. I don’t know what Zel’s plans are.”

“Good enough.” He went to the doorway. “’Night, Melody.”

“’Night Dad.”

“Remember to say your prayers.”

“I always do.”

He turned back around with a look of surprise on his face. “You do?”

She smiled at him. “Pastor’s kids get extra hell time if they don’t, right?”

Her dad feigned contemplation for a second. “I don’t know. I’ll have to check with my boss.”

Chapter Ten

Avery drove the Jeep into the dimly lit middle cinder block stall of the Do-It-To-It-Yourself carwash. The place was deserted. I’d been thinking we’d hit up a drive-thru and get something to eat since we’d missed dinner and then move on to more romantic exploits, but it was still his birthday for a few more hours. If he wanted to wash his car, I wasn’t going to complain.

While he took the sleeping bag from the back and went to air it out over the chain link fence at the edge of the carwash, I went to the vending machine and got us a couple bags of Combos and a Sprite to share.

“Dinner is served,” I said, handing him the bag of pizza flavored nuggets, his favorite.

“Why, thank you, my dear.” He popped a couple in his mouth. “Exquisite.”

We leaned against the side of the car, chomping away on junk food.

Avery took a hearty drink of pop and swallowed, looking at me sidelong. “How much danger am I in this time?” he asked.

I crammed a handful of Combos in my mouth, delaying the conversation.

Avery nudged my hip with his. “Hey, I can take it. I’ve been shot and had my neck broken, remember? Let me in on what’s going on.”

“What makes you think that something is going on?”

He snorted a laugh. “Did I or did I not just help transport a dying person in my car? I saw all those looks that you and Mel were giving each other. Raleigh isn’t just a Wes-trying-to-escape-from-Mildred screw up.”

Damn.

I took his empty bag from him and tossed our trash in the metal barrel at the end of the stall. It was already risky for Melody and I to talk about anything that wasn’t strictly vision and rewind related. He was just going to have to trust me. “There’s nothing going on.” I held out my hand. “Gimme some quarters and I’ll start the soap and water up.”

He paused and studied my expression. I smiled and poked his chest with my outstretched hand. “Quarters, s’il vous plait.”

“Nuh-uh,” he said walking over to the machine on the wall. “It’s my birthday. I get to wash the car. You can vacuum after.”

“Ha!” I said as I walked over and slammed the back door of the Jeep closed. “That’s an empty threat. I know you like vacuuming more than washing.”

He plugged quarters into the machine and it whirred to life. “Yes, but you like it less and I have to punish you somehow for not talking.”

If the boy wanted me to vacuum out his car, which he would vacuum out “better” after I was done anyway, in exchange for me not having to talk, I figured that was a pretty good deal.

Avery untangled the water hose from the mess the last customer had left it in and aimed the nozzle at the roof of the Jeep, wetting the whole thing. I stepped away from the car to avoid getting splashed and went to stand by the wall.

He walked around to the opposite side of the car, dragging the hose behind him, rinsing all the dirt from our trip to Bend down the metal grate in the carwash floor.

“Hey, Zel,” Avery called.

“Yeah?” I looked over at him just in time to see him aim the stream of water at me. My t-shirt got soaked through.

“Avery Adams!” I said. The air had cooled off significantly in the last hour and the water was freezing cold. Instant nips. For reals. I pulled the shirt from my stomach. It made a very unladylike fart sound.

Avery laughed and sang “Happy Birthday” under his breath.

I ran to the wall and grabbed the soap paddle, priming it to get it good and foamy. Then I hurried around the side of the Jeep and planted a sopping rectangle right in the middle of Avery’s back.

He stopped and shrugged. “Make sure you get the grill. There are lots of bugs on it.”

Yeah right, like I was stupid enough to fall for that.

I moved the paddle down and stamped his butt. He pivoted quickly and shot me in the chest again.

Now it was my turn to shrug. I dropped the paddle and peeled the t-shirt off over my head, wiggling my eyebrows at him.

He flicked the stream of water over my lower half, shooting me in the crotch.

“Guess the shorts will have to go too,” he said, grinning like a big goof.

I wrinkled my nose in mock disgust. “And your shirt. It’s all soapy.”

He flung the hose down onto the floor and was standing right in front of me in two long strides, encircling my waist with his arms. I pressed my mouth to his, teasing his tongue with mine. He spun us and pushed me back against the car, trailing kisses across my collarbone. Running the fingertips of his left hand up my arm, he slipped my bra strap down. His mouth moved lower.

“We’ve got kind of a water thing going on, huh?” I breathed, watching him slide his face toward my bare breast.

He looked up at me. “We’ve got kind of an I freakin’ love you thing going on.”

I arched my back, expecting to feel one of the best sensations in the world.

Instead I got a nose-full of pine. Frickety frack. I looked around the stall, hoping maybe I’d missed a ginormous air-freshener display. Nope.

Taking Avery by the shoulders, I gently eased him away from me. “Sorry.”

I walked across the lawn behind the church toward the table where the congregation had all placed their potluck items. I was carrying a big bowl full of Dad’s famous potato salad. The secret was a splash of pickle juice in the dressing. I set the bowl down on top of the red, white, and blue tablecloth in the space the women’s bible study group had designated.

“
I’m glad you decided to join us, Zel,” my dad said, placing his hand on the middle of my back and tugging the top of my sundress up to cover the scar I’d gotten from being run over by Avery’s truck. That’s what passed for affection between us these days. Even something I considered a badge of honor, the visible proof that I’d died and come back, embarrassed him.

I took a chance and kissed him on the cheek. “I’m glad I came too.”

“
Zellie, honey, could you run down to the kitchen and get some more serving spoons?” Colleen Carlton asked. “Not everyone brings one ‘cause they think they won’t get it back, which is silly. I watch this table like a hawk.”

“
Sure.” I meandered through the crowd, crossing the parking lot and going into the back door of the church. The kitchen was in the basement near dad’s office. I grabbed all the spoons that were left in the utensil holder next to the stove and made my way upstairs.

Back out in the parking lot, I fell into step next to Dory Knapp and her mother Cybil, who Dory was pushing in a wheelchair. Dory was huffing and puffing, her plump face red as a beet and sweating. In comparison, Mrs. Knapp was very thin and very still. She was wasting away. She had Alzheimer’s. Mom and I had gone to visit her on one of our Sundays when we used to do that sort of thing.

“
Happy Fourth of July,” I said.

“
Happy Fourth,” Dory replied, reaching down and adjusting her mother’s sun hat. She overcorrected and pulled it too far to the right, revealing a large yellow and purple bruise that had bloomed from Mrs. Knapp’s temple to her cheekbone.

“
Ouch!” I commented, pointing at the bruise.

Dory adjusted the hat quickly. “Yes, Mother sometimes forgets where she is. She took a nasty tumble down the cellar stairs a few days ago thinking she was walking into the bathroom.”

We came to the edge of the yard. Dory struggled to push the wheelchair up the small grassy hill.

“
Here, let me help.” I got in front of the wheelchair. “Can I set these on your lap for a second?” I asked the older Mrs. Knapp. She squinted her eyes at me.

“
She probably doesn’t understand what you’re saying. Go ahead and set ‘em there, she won’t know the difference.”

I tucked the spoons in between her folded hands and her belly. Grabbing onto both arms of the chair, I pulled on it while Dory pushed. With one great heave we got the chair up the little hill and onto the part of the yard that was easier to navigate. I reached for the spoons.

Mrs. Knapp clasped onto my wrist and held tight. I looked at her hand on me and noticed that the nails were broken and bloody around the cuticles, as if she’d tried defending herself against some sort of attack.

“
Mother, let Zellie go.” When she didn’t comply, Dory got in her face and spoke loudly. “Mother. That’s Zellie, the pastor’s daughter. Let her be.”

I squatted down in front of the old woman and met her gaze. “Everything okay, Mrs. Knapp? You remember me? I visited you with my mom sometimes. You’re at the church picnic with your daughter Dory.”

She dug her nails deeper into my wrist, her eyes going from blank to terror. She shimmied her right knee until the light blanket that had been covering it fell away. Dory hurried to cover it up, but not before I saw how swollen and discolored Mrs. Knapp’s leg was beneath the hem of her skirt.

This wasn’t something I could rewind. This had been going on for awhile.

Dory jerked her mother’s chair, causing me to fall back on my butt hard, and dragged it onto the blacktop, the spoons clattering to the ground. “Don’t you say a word, Zellie Wells,” she hissed at me, her voice low. “Everyone knows you’re a slut and a liar.”

I froze in horror.

Dory wheeled around and took off across the parking lot, jostling the blanket from her mother’s lap. It slid to the ground, getting wrapped up in the foot rests.

“
Damn it!” Dory cursed, hauling back and kicking at the chair. It lurched forward, the blanket coming loose.

I looked behind me and saw Dad and Avery running toward me, but Dory was really hightailing it outta there. I came to my senses and rushed after her, despite my aching tailbone.

“
Stop!” Oh God. I could make her stop, I could hold her in place, but everyone would see me. “I said stop!”

Dory reached her car, which was parked on the edge of the lot by the street, and took her keys from her pocket. She pushed her mother’s wheelchair as hard as she could into the street and jumped into her car.

Forgetting about catching Dory and only trying to make it to Mrs. Knapp in time, I ran into the street. I grabbed the handlebars as Dory drove over the sidewalk and clunked into the road. An oncoming motorcyclist swerved to avoid her and clipped the edge of the wheelchair before crashing into a parked car. Mrs. Knapp’s chair spun around and was yanked out of my grasp. The chair tipped over, splaying her onto the pavement, cracking her skull. I fell to my knees beside her.

I opened my eyes.

“Which one is it?”

“Which one what?” Avery asked.

He’d propped me up against the outside of the carwash stall while he’d finished washing the car. At least he’d been nice enough to pull my bra up and lay my wet t-shirt over my chest before he’d started in on detailing the tires. My boyfriend was getting way too used to me “visioning out” on him.

I shook the vision from my head. “Nothing. Parts were confusing, that’s all.”

He finished rinsing the Jeep and then hung the hose on the wall. “Let’s get you home so you can confer with Mel.” Avery reached down and pulled me to my feet, brushing his lips over my forehead. “Sorry about your shirt, I wasn’t thinking. It’s still pretty wet.”

Sure he was. I gave him a look. I’d gotten pretty good at the incredulous girlfriend look. I wrung the shirt out and put it back on. “I’ve got my stash of clothes at Claire’s. Why don’t we stop there on the way? Her parents probably aren’t home from work yet. They’ve been extra busy with the golf tournament.”

Avery went to retrieve the sleeping bag while I climbed into the front seat of the car. I thought back to the vision. Who was trying to contact me? The incident didn’t feel like something Grandma Rachel would orchestrate. Surely she’d choose to inhabit someone a little more obvious? That left Ben and Christopher’s moms. Neither of which I’d ever met.