Meet Me in Barcelona (11 page)

Carrie Ann leaned back, downed her mimosa, and felt tears threatening. She finished the second mimosa and stood up. She threw twenty euros on the table and started to walk away. Screw Grace. It took about fifteen steps. Just when Carrie Ann thought it was never going to happen, she heard someone running behind her.

“Carrie Ann. Carrie Ann.” She stopped, turned. Grace was out of breath, and finally there was a little bit of kindness in her eyes. It made Carrie Ann furious. She reached in her purse and pulled out the stack of letters.

“What's that?” Grace said.

“Tell me again how you never lie,” Carrie Ann said. Grace just looked at her. “I thought so. These are letters. All addressed to Grace Sawyer. All marked ‘Return to Sender.' ” Carrie Ann held the pile out accusingly. “I wouldn't have had to stalk you if you had answered even one of my letters.”

“Letters?” Carrie Ann let them drop with a thud. She watched Grace bend and pick them up. “You sent them to my parents,” Grace said after a moment.

Carrie Ann pointed to RETURN TO SENDER. “That's your handwriting, Grace.”

Grace clutched the letters and searched her mind for an excuse. “My mom and I have near-identical handwriting.”

“You want to stick with that, little Miss Truth-teller? So I guess you're saying your mom doesn't even let you think for yourself?”

Grace held up her finger. “One rule. Do not talk about my mother.”

“I suppose there are other topics that are off-limits too,” Carrie Ann said.

“What am I doing here, Carrie Ann? What do you want?”

“Read them, Grace. I want you to read them.” Carrie Ann wanted to walk away for real now. It was bad enough that Grace had rejected one hundred of her letters, flat out rejected them in bold, black ink, but how dare she not even admit to it? Carrie Ann had expected more. Tears. Excuses. Stammers.
Explanations.
That old familiar fury, her constant friend, churned within her.

Grace had told Jake that her parents had taken in all boys! As if she could erase Carrie Ann. After all Carrie Ann had done for Grace. Grace had said she loved her too. She had said they were family. Carrie Ann felt as if she had a giant claw tearing at her heart.

This had been a colossal mistake. She felt that now. She would tell the boys the plan was off. “Good-bye, Grace.” Carrie Ann started walking away.

“I'm not chasing you anymore,” Grace said. Carrie Ann stopped and turned around. They stood, facing each other in the middle of La Rambla. Tourists, and street performers, and impatient locals rushed by and around them, but the two only saw each other, cocooned in their own little bubble of pain.

“Of course not,” Carrie Ann said. “Why should you? You have Jake. You have your family. Of which I'm obviously not a part.” How could she have been so stupid? An icy-hot feeling of shame invaded her. How she'd always clung to the idea that no matter what else happened to her in this world, she had Grace. That family was the one you chose and someone had chosen her. Why did everyone always walk away from her?

“I'm sorry you haven't had a good life—”

“Me too,” Carrie Ann said.

“I—I didn't mean to hurt you, Carrie Ann.”

“But you did, Grace. You really did.”

“And you hurt me. But neither of us can change the past. So why am I here, Carrie Ann?”

“Because I have no one else. And I had to give it a shot.”

“What's going on?”

“I'm in trouble. I told you that.”

“What kind of trouble, exactly?”

For a second, Carrie Ann focused on the hills in the distance. Then she looked Grace in the eye. “I think he's going to kill me.” This was it. Carrie Ann had Grace's attention now.

“Who?”

Hadn't Grace been listening the other night? “My husband. My psycho husband.”

“Why?”

“Because I tried to leave him. Because that's what psychos do.”

“Have you gone to the police?”

Carrie Ann scoffed. “I have a restraining order, but most of the women who are killed by boyfriends or husbands are killed
after
they get the restraining order. The lady at the court office told me that. Can you believe that?”

“Carrie Ann.”

“It's true. I'm worried it's only a matter of time before he finds me here.”

“And so you invited Jake and me to be a part of your drama?”

“It was a mistake. I see that now. But I thought I should warn you.”

“Warn me? About your husband?”

“Yes.”

“Why would you—”

“I married Stan Gale.” The words had the exact impact Carrie Ann had expected. Grace froze. Her face paled. And her mouth literally dropped open. Carrie Ann had to admit that it was totally satisfying. It took Grace a moment before she spoke.

“Stan?” Grace said. “You married Stan?”

“I know what you're thinking.”

“I'm guessing he's changed quite a bit?”

“Why, Grace, I didn't realize you were so superficial.”

“Carrie Ann. He was overweight. He had acne. He had braces. He had a profuse sweating problem. He had those greasy bangs that were constantly covering his eyes—”

“He lost weight, his skin cleared up, the braces are gone, his hair no longer hangs in his eyes, and for all I know he got Botox in his armpits because he smells just fine!”

“But.”

“But, but, but.”

“But he was just plain creepy!”

“I'm surprised you remember anything about him at all. As I recall you couldn't even make eye contact with him.”

“Because he was creepy!”

“And you really hurt him.”

“Me?”

“Do you honestly think he didn't know how you felt? That you were repulsed by him?”

“It wasn't just because of his looks.”

“You could have fooled me.”

“Carrie Ann. He was—”

“Creepy. I know. You've said it.” A woman with a million shopping bags slammed into Carrie Ann. Grace immediately caught her arm. She pointed to a nearby bench. They walked over and sat, each looking anywhere but at each other for a few minutes.

“You are not married to Stan Gale.” Grace said it as if it were a fact.

“I'm done talking about this.” Carrie Ann brought out her pack of cigarettes, even though for once, she didn't feel like a smoke. Instead, she took one out and simply rolled it between her fingers.

“Come on. Just admit it. You're putting me on.”

“Swear to God, hope to die.”

“After everything that happened? After what happened with Lionel—”

“We are not going to talk about that.” Now Carrie Ann did light her cigarette. She could never talk about Lionel without smoking.

“My point exactly. You actually want me to believe you married Stan Gale?”

“You don't understand. It's different now. At least I thought it was.”

“I don't believe you. I just can't believe you.”

“Frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn. Just don't say I didn't warn you.”

“Warn me? Why do you have to warn me?”

Carrie Ann blew smoke out, then offered the pack to Grace. This time, after a slight pause, Grace took one. “Because his looks might have changed, but his personality hasn't. And I might have told him a certain version of the truth when it came to you.”

“A version of the truth?” Grace placed the cigarette in her mouth and let Carrie Ann light it. “What version would that be?”

“I told him that you were the one who spread the rumors about Lionel.”

A coughing fit ensued. Carrie Ann waited. Grace crushed the cigarette out on the bench, then threw it to the ground, and covered it with her foot. “That's a lie.” She sprang from the bench. “You know I didn't. I didn't say a word to anyone!”

Carrie Ann rose slowly and squared off with Grace once again. “Oh, I know that, Gracie Ann. More than anyone else on earth I know that.”

“And you've hated me ever since.” Grace said it slowly as if she were just now working it out.

“You were supposed to be the one person who believed in me.” Carrie Ann stepped as close to Grace as she dared. “But I'll forgive you. I'll forgive everything if you just help me now.”

“You married Stan. I can't—I don't even know how that could have possibly come about.”

“Why? Because he was always so in love with you?”

“What? Oh my God. No. No.”

“Don't tell me you didn't know. The more you hated him, the more he loved you.”

“I have to go. This is crazy. This is all crazy.” Grace stepped forward, and Carrie Ann grabbed her hand.

“You can't walk away now, Grace. You're in this too.”

Grace yanked her hand away. “How am I in this?”

“Have you ever walked through a swamp, Grace?”

“I feel like I'm in one now,” Grace said.

“So you should know. It doesn't matter how prepared you think you are. The long boots. Maybe a stick. A rope in case you sink. But even if you make it across, and manage to lift your foot onto dry land, you still have all this muck clinging to your boots. Muck, and weeds, and mud, and sticks, and all sorts of
gunk,
clinging to your boots. Weighing you down with every step you take.”

“For once in your life, Carrie Ann, stop talking in riddles, and tell me what's going on,” Grace said.

“You can't walk away from the past. It still clings to you.”

“What do you want?”

“I want you to acknowledge what you did to me.” A few people were looking at them now, as if they were putting on a theatrical experience.
Let them,
Carrie Ann thought.
Let the whole world hear.

“I didn't do anything.”

“Exactly. Exactly, Grace. Except that doing nothing was certainly doing something. And saying something.”

“What was I doing, Carrie Ann? What was I saying?”

“You were leaving me in danger! You were saying I was a liar. How could you? I really want to know. How
could
you?” Carrie Ann was screaming now. She'd better be careful or she was going to physically attack Grace. The need for release scraped at her insides. The only thing that stopped her was the totally stunned look on Grace's face.

“I didn't believe you.” Grace's voice was barely a whisper. “That's how. Is that what you want me to say?”

“Yes,” Carrie Ann said. “That's what I wanted you to say.” Carrie Ann started to walk. Grace followed at a distance.

“You were always telling tales, Carrie Ann.”

“Not always.”

“Pretty much always.”

“You've changed, Grace.” Carrie Ann picked up her pace, and Grace had to run to catch up with her again.

“I've grown up.” Grace grabbed Carrie Ann's arm, forcing her to stop.

“I'm happy for you,” Carrie Ann said. “I guess that makes me Peter Pan.”

“Please,” Grace said. “Don't be like this.”

“Like what? I just thought you should know. About Stan.”

“That—he blames me?”

“For the record. I tried to take it back. I tried to tell him it wasn't you—”

“It was you!”

“Me? My God, Grace. Use your head. Why would I want to spread that rumor?”

“Because I wouldn't.”

“I wanted you to tell
one
person, Grace. Just one.” Carrie Ann poked her finger at Grace as she spoke, wanting desperately to make contact, poke Grace in the chest until she cracked.

“My mother wouldn't have changed her mind.”

“We'll never know, will we?”

“Just admit it, Carrie Ann. You started the rumors.”

“No, Grace. If you believe nothing else that I've ever said or ever will say, hear this loud and clear. I swear on my own grave. You were the only person I told.”

“Then who did?”

“I don't know.”

Grace was entirely off balance now. She didn't know where to put her hands. They played with her hair, then covered her mouth, then folded across her chest. She looked as if she were drowning in air. “I can't do this. I won't. I won't fall for your lies again. My father was right. You're the girl who cried wolf.”

Carrie Ann took a step back, swallowed the lump in her throat. “Your father?” she said.
Him too
. “I see.” Grace hadn't believed her. Still didn't believe her. Wouldn't believe her for the rest of her life. “Sounds like it's been a while since you've heard that story, Grace.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means you've forgotten the end.” Grace just stood. And stared. “Do you remember the end?”

“I remember.”

“Then say it.”

“I don't want—”

“SAY IT.”

“The end?”

“Yes, Grace. The end.”

“The boy cries wolf again, and this time there really is a wolf, but nobody comes running.”

“Exactly, Grace. Exactly.”

“Exactly, what?”

“Maybe your dad is right. Maybe I am the girl who cried wolf. But if that's true, then this is the end. Because, I'm telling you, this time—there really is a wolf.”

Twenty minutes after Grace left for her breakfast with Carrie Ann, Jake was still lying in bed. If he wanted to get to the market, he was going to have to get his ass in gear. He'd get all of her favorite foods, some candles, and a nice bouquet of flowers. And this time, he wouldn't forget the ring. Boy, he'd almost blown it. Had actually gotten down on one knee in the middle of the street, only to discover he had left the ring back in the apartment. At least he had the flyer for the concert in his pocket, although that had turned into a fiasco.

But he was actually glad the proposal hadn't worked out; he wanted to at least try to set up the camera and film it for Jody and Jim. Not to mention posterity. He and Grace could watch it when they were eighty. The biggest problem was, he no longer had the element of surprise. Now Grace suspected something, and her birthday was too obvious of a day—plus he hated when people tried to usurp one celebration by piling another one on top of it.
Tell the truth, Jake. You're all nerves
. He wasn't sure when exactly he was going to pop the question, but he should at least gather supplies while Grace was out.

Engaged. To be married. It was exhilarating. And terrifying. He hated seeing her so upset over her past. He'd really pushed her to tell him everything too, and he felt bad about that. He wanted to help her through it, whatever it was, but he certainly didn't need her to explain herself or her past to him. He loved Grace unconditionally. And he knew her. She was a good person. So whatever she'd done, whatever peer pressure had made her do, she had been just a kid. And it seemed like she'd been punishing herself enough. In the past singing was what had always made her thrive. He couldn't bear the thought of her losing that. He was glad Marsh Everett wasn't here. Jake wasn't a violent man at all—had never even been in a real fight, nothing beyond schoolyard shoving. But if that man were here, Jake would be tempted to throw a punch. Heck, he might even enjoy it.

What he couldn't quite figure out was what exactly he thought of Carrie Ann. There was actually something quite mesmerizing about her, and it was obvious she and Grace had a strong connection. At times Carrie Ann seemed like someone who would fight to the death over Grace. It was beyond bizarre to witness another person this protective of his girl, especially considering he hadn't even known she existed a few days ago. She was beautiful too, strong, yet somehow had that damsel-in-distress thing going on. But he'd take a genuine girl like Grace any day.

He sprung up and pulled his jeans on. Normally he showered first thing, but this morning he was anxious to get out of the house. Grace had said she wouldn't be long, and given her ambivalence toward her childhood friend, he might not even have enough time to beat her back to the apartment. He threw on a T-shirt, grabbed his wallet and keys, and headed out the door. He stopped, feeling like he was forgetting something. He stood frozen on the stairs, debating whether or not to go back inside.

Finally, laughing at his inertia, he moved on, taking the stairs two at a time. He was tempted to shout his good news to all of Spain. He didn't know exactly when, but he was going to propose sometime on this trip. He would know the perfect moment when he saw it. He gave a wave to the doorman, who just stared back, and soon was out on La Rambla. A small crowd was gathered on the side of his apartment building, all huddled together and pointing up at the roof. Jake followed their gazes and then stopped in his tracks. A man in a black bird costume was on the ledge of the building one floor above Jake and Grace's flat. My God. This was the creature Grace had seen on the street. One of La Rambla's eccentric performers. And this one was a ledge-walker. Jake wished he had his camera, but of course in his hurry he'd left it on the counter. Did he have time to go back for it? He started back, then stopped. No. He had to get everything ready for the proposal. The performer probably did this every day; he would get a picture another time.
There are all kinds of crazy people in the world,
Jake thought to himself as he headed for the market. All kinds of crazy.

 

Rafael paced while he made the call. “He wasn't in the apartment,” he blurted out when the irritated voice on the other end of the phone picked up.

“Are you alone?”

“Yes.”

“So Carrie Ann has no idea?”

“I tell her nothing.”

“Good.”

“He was not in the apartment.” Rafael wasn't going to admit that he'd totally blown it. He had thought it would be fun to wear the costume; instead it had attracted a crowd. It would have been impossible not to entertain them a little; that's who he was.

“I know. You said that.”

“What do you want me to do now?”

“Nothing. Just have Carrie Ann call me.” Like magic, the door opened, and she walked in. “She's here now,” Rafael said.

“I thought you said you were alone!”

“She just walked into the door. Just, just now,” Rafael said.

“What now?” Carrie Ann said. Rafael held out the phone. “He wants to talk to you.”

Carrie Ann took the phone into her bedroom and shut the door. She threw herself on the bed and stared at the ceiling. “Listen to me, Stan. You can't keep calling me every five seconds.”

“I didn't. Rafael called me.”

“Why?”

“Just to tell me you weren't back yet.”

“I told you. He's psycho!”

“How did it go with Grace?”

“Well, I certainly have her attention. I think this might actually work.”

“What exactly did you say?”

“Oh, just that you were a psycho and I was afraid for my life and that you might be after her as well.”

“Is she scared?”

“On guard.”

“Good.”

“You know, I had no idea you were going to get so into this.”

“You're not the only one who wants to clear out the cobwebs, Carrie Ann.”

“Fair enough. So when will you be here? When will you abduct me?”

“You'll know me when you see me.”

“I still think we should dump Rafael.”

“We can't. He's giving us and them a place to stay.”

“You have money. Find us another place to stay.”

“Don't push it.” He hung up. Carrie Ann couldn't believe it. It was as if he'd forgotten this was
her
adventure. What cobwebs did he want to clear out? Was he still obsessed with Grace? Sure sounded like it. She went back into the living room to face Rafael. He was wearing his ridiculous bird costume.

“Well?” Rafael said.

“Well, what?”

“What is next on the plan?”

“Just relax. We wait for him to arrive.”

“
Sí.
We wait.”

“And no more breaking into their apartment and moving things around.”

“¿Perdoni?”

“Don't go into their place again!”

“It's my place too.”

“Not while they're staying there. You're going to leave something behind and screw everything up.”

“Like what?” Rafael said.

“Like one of your stupid little feathers.”

“I do not like you speaking to me like that.” Rafael flapped his wings. “These feathers are strong. Go ahead. Pull one.”

Carrie Ann shook her head. “I'll pass.”

Rafael strode over to the window and stood like a king surveying his territory. He swore in Spanish. “There he is. He's carrying groceries. He went to the market.” Each statement was said as if he had just unraveled the mysteries of the universe.

Carrie Ann joined him at the window, and they both watched until Jake disappeared under the arch. “Why do you care where he goes?” Carrie Ann headed for the door.

“Where are you going?” Rafael said.

“None of your business.”

“Maybe you should just disappear now,” Rafael said.

Carrie Ann pointed at Rafael. “You work for me,” she said. “And I'll disappear when I want to disappear.”

Once out of Rafael's literal eagle eye, she hurried down the steps, hoping to catch Jake before he went into the apartment. Luckily, he was just coming up as she was going down. She stopped and waited.

“Hey,” she called.

“Hey.” Jake stopped. Carrie Ann was fascinated with the way he watched her. As if vetting her for Grace. “How was your breakfast?” he asked.

“Honestly, Jake, I screwed up.”

“How so?”

“I was wrong not to include you. I'm really sorry.”

“Nah. I wanted to go out to the market anyway.”

“Listen. I know you don't know me, and you don't owe me anything, but—I'd really like another chance to hang out. Just the three of us.”

“Why don't you talk to Grace about that?”

“I really don't want to get into the gory details, but I don't think she'd say yes if I asked. She's upset that I excluded you.”

“I think we worked through that.”

Carrie Ann shrugged. “I just thought it would be nice if I extended the invitation to you first this time. I'd like you and Grace to go to the Sagrada Família with me. Have you been there yet?”

“No.”

“Great. It's a must-see.”

“When are you going?”

“Tomorrow morning. We can go early and beat the crowd.”

“I'll mention it to Grace.”

“Okay. If you decide to go I'll be waiting in the lobby at ten.” Carrie Ann hurried across the lobby and out the door before Jake could say another word.

 

Carrie Ann wandered around the town square near the apartment building. Was she doing the right thing? Or was she going too far? Once again she had a really bad feeling about involving Rafael. And Stan was acting kind of weird too. She should call him and tell him not to come. Would he freak out? This was her game. Her magic trick. She'd been practicing all her life.

By the time she was thirteen years old, Carrie Ann could impress most everyone with her tricks. First, she was simply drawn to the titles. Magician. Illusionist. Conjurer. Mentalist. Escape Artist. She also liked the names of certain tricks: Assistant's Revenge. Burning Alive. Crusher. Devil's Torture Chamber. Dismemberment. Guillotine. Impalement. Table of Death. The Mismade Girl. She particularly liked a definition she ran across:

And so she had set her mind to doing just that. First, and foremost, she had taken the Magician's Oath:

“The illusion of magic.” She liked that. She counted on it most days. Within a few months she could whip a quarter out of an unsuspecting adult's ear. If she was in the company of kids only, she would more often than not pretend to pull the quarter out of their behinds. Already at her full height of five feet, seven inches and with long blond locks, she looked more the part of the magician's assistant. No matter how hard anyone begged, Carrie Ann would never give away her secrets. If there was one thing a tossed-around foster child knew how to do, it was keep secrets.

She could do The Four Robbers card trick, turn a multicolored scarf into solid black, pull a quarter from whichever orifice she chose, and she was well on her way to pulling a stuffed rabbit out of a hat. She frequently fantasized about sawing a very good-looking man in half. “Someday,” Carrie Ann used to say, flashing her teeth, “I'm going to make someone disappear.”