Hidden Hearts (32 page)

“Where’s Kiah?”

I nodded toward the cabin and he sighed. “
It’s
gonna be okay, Vivi. Kiah’s just worried about me and your mama.”

“She doesn’t think
it’s
right,” I said.

“Well, she doesn’t know everything, least of all about what it means to be in love.”

“Yes, she does,” I replied, almost shouting.

He blinked at me and started to ask why, but he stopped himself and looked away, thinking. “Well, it’ll be all right,” he concluded before he got up and went into the cabin.

I couldn’t focus for the rest of the evening. Kiah had refused to join us for dinner, and I felt lost. So I just roamed around the house, from my bedroom to the kitchen and then to the living room.

“Vivian, go find something productive to do,” Mama said in an aggravated tone. She was making her shopping list in the kitchen while Mac read the paper on the sun porch. I’d come in and out at least five times bored out of my skull. When I reached for the icebox handle she said, “If you open that icebox one more time, I’m going to shove you inside and leave you right next to the bottle of milk.”

I groaned and went out the front door that creaked from lack of use. I strolled down the brick path, listening to the hum of the cicadas and enjoying the cool night air. Millions of stars breached the darkness casting a glow over the streets. I leaned against the wooden gate and stared at the little houses across from us. Oddly, none of our neighbors were out tonight. Usually people sat on their porches and chatted or gossiped when it was so hot, but it was completely quiet. A string of glowing porch lights was the only sign of life until I heard a low rumble.

Headlights appeared at the corner of the next block—a truck. I had a fleeting thought of Will and his buddies until an older man stepped out, whistling and carrying his lunchbox up the driveway of the end house. I exhaled. I’d been holding my breath and hadn’t even realized it. My pulse was racing, and when I held up my hand it was shaking.

“You’re beyond ridiculous, Vivian Battle,” I whispered.

But my nerves and the stuffy house kept me up for much of the night. I’d stuck my head under the bathtub faucet and climbed into bed with dripping wet hair. Maybe a breeze would sneak through my bedroom window and give me relief, but it didn’t work.

I threw the covers aside and decided to sleep on the sun porch just like Pops had done all those nights. After an hour of staring into the black night toward Kiah’s cabin, my eyelids finally closed.

A steady, soft scraping interrupted my light sleep, and I sat up on the divan. The moon was only a sliver and the sun porch nothing but a series of shadows. Two figures stole up our driveway. One was carrying a sack and the other was dragging a large piece of wood. They stopped in the yard between our house and the cabins and busied themselves with the wood. I went to one of the windows and stared into the darkness. My mind registered the planted cross just as they lit it on fire.

I screamed.

They ran, but not before they threw three burning fireballs toward each of the cabins. I watched in horror as the night turned yellow, crimson and orange. A flurry of noise came from the house and Mac tore past me to the cabin.

Kiah.

I started after him, but Mama grabbed me from behind and held me. I writhed until I broke free, but she blocked the door. I had to get to Kiah. I had to help. I ran back inside and out the front door, determined to circle back down the driveway. I burst through the small cluster of trees that lined the property and stopped suddenly. Standing behind some bushes watching the fire was Pops. I took a step and a twig snapped. His gaze shot toward the trees. I stood very still hoping he hadn’t seen me. 

Neither of us moved as precious seconds vanished. I could hear Mac and Mr. Munoz shouting for the hose and my worry for Kiah nearly propelled my feet forward, but I’d have to step in front of Pops. If he grabbed me, I’d never reach her. Maybe we both thought we were invisible, or maybe we both knew we weren’t.

The fire truck’s wail grew closer until it pulled up the drive. A moving blur of red, it passed between us, and when I blinked he was gone. I stood there a second longer, wondering if I’d imagined the whole thing, before I shot around the side of the house. I felt the fire first, the heat announcing its presence, but what I saw sent the air out of my lungs. The flames were so ravenous they fed off each other, and the three cabins were indistinguishable.

Firemen hurried around the yard, running lines, trampling through my mother’s roses and shouting orders to each other. Thick smoke swirled around me, and I nearly gagged. I scanned the yard for Kiah but only found Mr. Benson, leaning against an orange tree in his pajama bottoms and a T-shirt. Another fire truck rolled into the yard, and it wasn’t until the motor died that I heard my mother screaming.

I knew it was her, somewhere near the flames. I followed the sound of her voice, wincing at its agony, knowing the cause.
Mac.
Kiah.
She was locked between Mr. Munoz’s strong arms. Her legs dangled in the air as she writhed to break free, just as I had done only minutes before. I fell to the ground, not caring that the fire’s heat was burning my face. I couldn’t get any closer, but I wouldn’t move back. A group of neighbors huddled together in a corner of the yard, their backs to the fire. What was so interesting?

More sirens.
Ambulances.
Mama’s cry.

A man with a satchel pushed his way through the crowd. When it parted for a split second against the angry light of the flames, I saw the familiar pattern of roses—Kiah’s nightgown.

I ran into the crowd, pushing to the front until I finally reached her. She was unconscious, and the man was tending to her wounds. Her left leg and arm were badly burned, and he was applying a salve. The crowd was telling a tale I didn’t understand.

The ambulance forced us back and gently lifted her onto a stretcher. I rushed to her side, walking with her as they took her to the ambulance.

“Kiah,” I cried, not knowing if she could hear me. “I’m here.”

I said a prayer as they snaked out of the driveway, tears streaming down my face. Only then did I realize that Mama wasn’t screaming anymore. She wasn’t with Mr. Munoz or near the fire trucks. I tripped over the hoses and slipped in the muddy grass searching for her.

The sun porch glowed behind me. She sat on the divan watching the fire, as if it were a television show. She didn’t look at me when I flung open the screen door. An unlit cigarette shook in her hand, as if it
were
alive, and a guttural sound escaped her lips.

I stared toward the fire.
Kiah.
Mr. Munoz. Mr. Benson. But where was Mac? A hand touched my shoulder, and I stared up into Mr. Rubenstein’s kind, watery eyes. He went past me and knelt before her. When he touched her shoulder, she burst into tears and threw her arms around him.

Amid the thick smoke I still could smell Mrs. Rubenstein’s perfume, so I wasn’t surprised when she slid next to me and pulled me into an embrace.

“Where’s Mac?” I whispered.

“He’s gone, sweetie. He managed to get Kiah out through the back window, but then the fire was too much.”

She squeezed me tighter before the first sob pushed through my throat.

****

I spent most of that night lying on the fancy sofa in the living room, Mrs. Rubenstein at my side. The firefighters and policemen came in and out of the house for a few hours, interviewing Mama and Mr. Rubenstein, trying to understand what happened. Pieces of their conversation floated into my brain—names, times and details. At one point they started to discuss Mac’s family and my eyes opened wide, but then the conversation dissolved, and I
knew Mr. Rubenstein had led them to the sun porch.

Mama remained at the kitchen table, the bottle of vodka next to her. She didn’t cry and her strength was tremendously comforting. All of the unfamiliar people eventually left and only the whispered exchanges between Mama and the Rubensteins remained. At one point she started to whimper, and Mrs. Rubenstein pulled her against her chest. I got up and went to the doorway.

“Mama?
When can I go see Kiah?”

At the sound of my voice all three adults stopped talking, and Mama rubbed her eyes with a tissue. “Honey, I don’t know,” she said, searching for her strong voice. “She’s in the black part of the hospital. We’ll just have to wait and see. Mac’s family…”

Her voice trailed off and she stared at the table, fighting back the tears. I retreated to the living room and stared out the front window. The yard looked no different than it had the night before. Yet I knew that if I followed the brick path around the house, the picture would show the end of our quiet life with Mac and Kiah.

My feet were moving before I could stop them—until I reached the end of the driveway. The cabins were a tangle of smoking, charred remains, rising up from the foundations. Black and gray debris had suffocated the lush grass that connected our house with the cabins, leaving only a muddy bog and the burned cross.

Mac and Kiah had explained its origins from the
Middle
Ages and what it meant now. I kicked it and a clump of charred wood disintegrated. So I kicked it again and again, pulverizing the remains under the force of my sneaker. I didn’t realize I was screaming until I had to catch my breath. When I glanced toward the sun porch, I saw Mama and the Rubensteins watching me.

I gave one final kick and said, “Mr. Rubenstein, there’s something I need to tell you.”

June, 2010

“Um, well, this personal ad is…personal.”

Penn stared at the screen, and CC knew she wasn’t focused on the words.

“Can you delete it or figure out the password, or something?”

“Maybe.
This website has a low level of security, so I’m hoping my cracking program can hack it.” She clicked through several screens expertly, and the computer started to whir. “So, I think this entitles me to three more questions.”

“I don’t think so,” CC argued. Penn pushed away from the keyboard, and CC collapsed onto the sofa. “Okay, what do you want to know?”

Penn returned to her work. “How did your ex get you to pose for these pictures?”

“With a lot of tequila.
Next question.”

“If she’s so mean and manipulative, why
were
you ever with her, and why would you ever want to subject yourself to her twice?”

She groaned loudly. “We don’t have time for that answer. I’m sure it’s all rooted in my childhood. One more question.”

“There,” Penn said, hitting a few keys.
“Done.”

She sat up. “You got it? That was quick. What was it?”

“Just a series of five meaningless letters and symbols.”

She sighed. “Thanks.”

“I still get one more question. Why would a smart, gorgeous woman ever take out a personal ad?”

There wasn’t a trace of sarcasm in her voice and the cobalt blue eyes showed sincerity—and opportunity. The question lingered in the silent cottage, a world away from the ringing phones, clicking keyboards and endless negotiations that defined CC’s responsibilities. She abandoned her suit jacket on the couch and went to Penn, whose hands were folded in her lap. When CC unbuttoned her shirt and revealed the leopard skin bra from the photos, Penn’s eyes fluttered and CC worried she might run away. They needed to forge a connection that would conquer her fear of the past.

She took Penn’s shaking hand and placed it on her breast, stroking her fingers until they came to life.

“I…I haven’t…It’s been two years.” She looked embarrassed, as if she couldn’t believe what she was saying.

CC closed her eyes and enjoyed Penn’s caress. “That’s too long,” she murmured. “It’s time to end the drought.” She unbuttoned her suit pants so Penn could peek at the matching panties. “Touch me.”

CC felt her piercing gaze, knew she was deciding whether to take another chance. The chair squeaked, and she sensed her nearness before warm lips kissed her belly.

****

She woke up alone. The luxurious sheets kissed her skin, but Penn was gone. The clock on the nightstand read four p.m., and she realized she’d taken a nap. She never napped. Her brain was always cluttered with work. But after a few hours with Penn she’d contracted professional amnesia, and she couldn’t think of a single thing to worry about except where Penn was.