Robin in the Hood (Robbin' Hearts Series Book 1) (12 page)

Granny gave me a forceful jiggle, making my mind race to figure out what she wanted to hear.

“Um, well,” I confessed, “I can see everybody’s trailer, plus a couple of cars up on blocks and an old, rusty washing machine.”

She swiveled me around to stare me in the eye.

“Lord have mercy,” Granny sighed. “Right there’s yer trouble. You don’t feel anybody.”

“Feel?” I shook my head, bewildered. “Granny, I’m not exactly psychic, like you—”

“Ain’t you gotta heart?” she barked defiantly. Granny gave me one of those looks again that could cut right through your chest and lay your soul out in pieces.

I nodded, trembling a little. “Yeah. I mean, I think so.”

“Then prove it. Look again, honey.”

And God knows why, but she took what appeared to be loose ashes out of her pocket and promptly blew them into my face.

Coughing, I fanned frantically at the smoky air. Then I tried to swallow and focus, squinting again at the compound just to get this over with.

And before I knew it, goose bumps sped down my limbs.

Because all of a sudden, I saw them.

I mean, really
s
a
w
them—

There was Bixby and Dooley and my dad sitting on old rockers. They were laughing their heads off around a wooden barrel as they threw their apple peels for distance like they didn’t have a care in the world. Lorraine ducked her head out of her trailer and yelled at them to stop their racket and hurry up, but that just made them laugh all the more. Dooley finally fell off his chair in a fit of giggles.

And then there was the Colonel at the edge of the meadow, waving a big stick in the air at his Attack Geese until they fell into single file. He blew a whistle, and they obediently trotted through a ridiculous little obstacle course made out of rocks, sticks, and mud tunnels. Afterwards, he bent down and patted each one on the head. I could have sworn I saw his geese smile.

Oh, and at a very loud count of three, I heard the TNT Twins furiously ram a narrow log into one of their cannons, tumbling head over heels when they struck the end. For a second they looked delirious, and then they scrambled to their feet and let out a whoop, celebrating with an awkward-looking Boogie. God only knows what they were going to blow up next.

Yet surprisingly, the only one who didn’t appear to be enjoying herself was the usually effervescent Brandi. I saw her stretched out on a faded chaise lounge in the shade, her limbs flopped at uncomfortable angles, as if she didn’t so much as lay down for a nap as she collapsed. Her fire-hydrant red wig had slipped a little, revealing her pink, bald head.

“Wow, I guess everybody’s pretty busy,” I said, turning to Granny. “Except, you know, Brandi—”

“That’s ’cause she’s plum exhausted,” Granny cut in, “with her chemo and all. She’s dying, honey.”

I swallowed hard, feeling a lump rise in my throat because I knew it was the truth. I’d seen Brandi’s gray pallor myself. And as much as I pretended not to like her overwhelming friendliness, she had been nice to me. I mean, genuinely
nice—with no mean-girl thought of kickbacks later—for no good reason other than it was in her nature. And try as I might, I couldn’t think of a single person at Pinnacle who’d ever bothered to treat me that way. I sighed, feeling Granny set her hand on my shoulder.

“Why in tarnation do ya think Creek works so hard?” Granny said. “And even started casing banks? We’re a family here at Turtle Shores. But if we cain’t get more money soon for Brandi’s treatments, she ain’t gonna be with us much longer, darlin’. You know, Brandi’s the one who raised Dooley like her own ever since Creek’s Ma passed. And she’s always been the first to pony up any time somebody needed a cavity filled, or a new engine part, or just more food on the table. A big heart like hers deserves better’n this.”

All of a sudden I shivered a little, even though we were standing together in the heat of afternoon sun, and my thoughts started spinning. This was a whole new world to me—one without health insurance, or any guarantees for that matter—but where people actually cared about each other. Even if it meant breaking the law.

And it couldn’t be farther from my uptight life at Pinnacle than the other side of the moon.

I looked down at my feet, studying a star pattern on one of Granny’s old quilts beneath my sneakers and wondering how it was possible that I’d landed in a place that was the polar opposite of everything I’d ever known, almost like yin and yang.

And that’s when I felt Granny’s lace-covered hand grab mine and squeeze, as if she were imparting strength.

“Ain’t you missing something, honey?” she said, her voice low and insistent.

I lifted my gaze and shrugged my shoulders, unsure.

Granny turned to stare at Bender Lake. “That there’s a mighty big big body of water in front of you.”

I nodded, taking a deep breath. She was right—the lake stretched out before us like a sheet of glass. Not even a ripple broke its smooth, shiny surface.

“Once you cross over that lake with Creek tomorrow, honey, yer life ain’t never gonna be the same.”

“B-But how did you know about our pact?” I gasped. Then, from the corner of my eye, I spotted her crystal ball, which was slowly changing color to a sky blue like it had been saturated with spooky ink. It was the very same hue as Bender Lake—

Granny stared into my eyes.

“Sweetheart,” she said gravely, “it warn’t me who prayed you here. It was Creek.”

She waited for her words to trickle into my brain, watching the astonishment surface in my eyes.

“He needs help like nobody’s business to keep us all together, he just won’t admit it. But any fool can see it takes more’n one person to get the kind of cash Brandi needs to survive. So let’s just say maybe I helped him along a little with what I know.”

Granny’s eyes twinkled at the spirals of smoke that rose from her incense sticks, even though they’d nearly burned down to their brass holders.

“Besides,” she said with a mischievous grin, “bringing you back to yer real home, where yer Pa found the only true love of his life, was the very least I could do fer our dear Alessia.”

“Alessia . . .”

“Alessia . . .”

I let the word roll softly off my tongue over and over again like a prayer.

For some reason it comforted me, even if the whole “mother” idea turned out to be nothing but wishful thinking, or knowing my dad, a downright hoax. The name just sounded so lovely on my lips, as if it belonged to an angelic being with shimmering wings who might offer protection when I least expected it.

And an angel was precisely what I needed right now.

Because at almost sunrise, the woods around Bender Lake were blacker than the inside of a broom closet—I know this for a fact from the time mean-girl Bree Cox locked me behind the janitor’s door before fifth-period Biology at Pinnacle. And with every stick that split beneath my feet, my heart bolted inside my chest, and I wanted to rocket as high as the stars that still twinkled overhead. To make matters worse, the closer I got to the spot where Creek said we were supposed to meet at dawn, the more I heard a peculiar, whispering sound.

It could be just the forest leaves scuffling in the breeze.

Or the noise of birds as they rise and stir in their nests.

Unless Creek had stationed the TNT Twins and the Attack Geese to patrol my every move, and they were getting downright restless.

Feeling paranoid, I rotated on my heels just to make sure no one was sneaking up behind me. It was a reasonable maneuver, considering how many times I’d been pelted or bitten in this God forsaken place.

But who was I kidding?

I couldn't see a soul in the ink-black darkness, and for all I knew, I might’ve just ventured in circles.

Then I felt something soft whisk across my cheek.

Startled, I reached up and grasped a . . . feather?

I stroked it between my fingers, struck by how silky it felt, when I saw a warm, shaft of light glimmer between the trees.

Thank God there was something I could still depend on! The sun—my oldest and most loyal friend—had faithfully inched a little over the horizon, just enough to cast a thin ray that peeked through the forest at my feet.

And that’s when I noticed another feather.

Small and white, like the first one. And the very second I leaned down to pick it up, I heard the whispers again.

Oh Lord, I begged, please don’t let it be Granny Tinker casting another weird spell.

I glanced up, fully prepared to see a whole network of planks and platforms high in the trees with Granny, Dooley, or Creek staring back at me, probably laughing.

But all I saw was another feather swaying ever so slowly to the ground.

As if it had fallen from a wing—

An angel’s wing.

And again, more whispers.

Where were they coming from?

No sooner did I have that thought when another shaft of light pierced through the trees. Suddenly, I could see a trail of small, white feathers illuminated on the forest floor, as though quietly leading me toward dawn.

And before I could blink, there he was.

Creek.

Backlit by the soft rays of the rising sun.

I knew he was facing me, but his features were shadowy in the lingering darkness. Yet there was no mistaking the broad silhouette of his shoulders and strong legs, or the golden hues created by the morning rays on his wayward blonde hair.

I stood in my tracks, unable to say a word.

He was so devastatingly beautiful, his form highlighted in the early light, as though he'd somehow been created fresh, just for that very moment by a higher power.

A cruel higher power who knew exactly how to tear a girl’s heart out.

I shifted my weight and straightened up as tall as I could, a pillar of strength so no gorgeous piece of Trailer Trash could possibly get under my skin.

And I saw him take a bold step towards me.

He whispered something and held up his hand to release another white feather, watching as it was swept up by a soft breeze.

“She hears you, you know,” he called out.

The forest was so quiet that I felt as though his words had delicately slipped into my ears, echoing softly. And I hated to admit it, but I already adored the sound of his voice—so smoky and serious for a guy his age, compared to the flippant, arrogant tones I always heard from the boys at Breton. I clenched my fists, hoping to barricade my heart a little, when I saw Creek lean his head back, relishing the simple warmth of the sun that had begun to envelop him in light.

I swallowed hard, just savoring the sight.

Because it took all of my willpower not to be slayed by his handsome presence in that pastel light. Drawing in a deep breath, I worked up my nerve to respond.

“Who?” I taunted, crossing my arms to act tough. “Who hears us out here—the sun?” Maybe he scatters feathers for a morning ritual, I thought, that Granny had taught him to bring good luck. There was no end to her mysterious ways.

Creek raked his hand through his long hair, warmed now to the color of butter, and he shook his head.

He allowed the silence to hover between us, waiting.

And in that moment, the morning air suddenly felt heavier to me, as if the particles of mist that had collected at my feet had started to swell. A few birds chimed, their voices sharp and eager for dawn. Then a gentle breeze picked up and tousled my hair like unseen fingers—

“Your mother,” Creek said.

His words sliced straight into my heart. And then twisted.

What the hell would
h
e
know about my mother?

“There are no secrets in trailer parks.”

Creek took brisk strides towards me, and in that instant, I wished I could sink into one of the TNT Twins’ holes after all. Tingles rifled my cheeks, but I stood my ground, realizing the sun was probably illuminating every feature of my face by now, so I’d better not cower. I slung my hand on my hip, pretending to be nonchalant, until he walked up to within inches of my face. He cupped both hands and held them out to me like an offering.

And in them were feathers.

Downy and white, with sand dusting their edges.

“Prayers,” he nodded.

His voice was so tender that I felt as though he’d invisibly caressed my cheek.

“Because they hear us, Robin. Our mothers—nothing can break that bond. Go ahead, take one,” he urged.

His striking blue eyes held mine, and I swear to God it didn’t cross my mind to blink for at least a minute.

And my fingers began trembling out of control—

God damn him!

He’d totally nailed the deepest hurt inside my hardened, Geisha-girl heart—the one that’d been hemorrhaging ever since I was old enough to realize that I didn't have a real mom, like other kids. Just surly caretakers and mercenary gold-diggers who couldn’t wait to get rid of me.

But of course I wasn’t able to stop my hand from picking out a feather from his palm. I cradled it for a few seconds, like it might actually be a silent message from a mother I could call my own. Then I let it go, watching as it was lifted by a delicate breeze. The feather twirled and rose up in a band of sunlight, shining white, and I found myself hoping that somehow, somewhere, whoever was or is my mother might sense my presence, maybe even feel the beats of my yearning heart.

And when I glanced back into Creek’s eyes, for a split-second, I thought I saw them actually glisten.

He blinked and steeled himself, thoroughly rejecting anything that might have remotely looked like . . .

Tears.

Tears?

Good God, everything this guy just said is either for real, or he’s by
f
a
r
the most accomplished sociopath I’ve ever met, beating out the worst of the alpha Pinnacle chicks by a mile.

My teeth clenched together.

“Tell me what you know!” I spit out, in no mood to be manipulated by Creek or anyone else, regardless of how handsome or clever they might be. “Is my real mother dead? ’Cause that sure as hell has always been the line I’ve been sold.”