Sweet Misfortune: A Novel (2 page)

“I’m joking,” he said, chuckling. “Actually, I’m really not the pick-up-strange-women type.” He caught himself. “Not that you’re strange, but… you get what I mean.”

Sophie didn’t reply.
What’s the use
? she wondered.
He can flirt all he wants, and it won’t make a bit of difference. I’m through with men.
Another image of Garrett popped into her head.

The man kept talking. “My new boss told me that riding the bus would be easier than fighting morning traffic, but now I’m not so sure.”

Pulling her umbrella from its berth beside the seat, Sophie said, “You’re really from Oregon?”

He nodded again. “Astoria, on the coast.”

“Well, welcome to Washington,” she continued politely. “Now, my stop is coming up, so if you don’t mind I’d like to get by.” She turned to Evalynn. “Ready?”

Evalynn nodded, and the pair stood up.

The man angled his knees so Sophie could scoot by in front of him. “Listen,” he said. “I really could use some help. Can you at least tell me how to get to Seattle?”

Leaning in close so she wouldn’t have to speak loudly, Sophie said, “There are lots of women on the bus. I’m sure one of them will help.”

He didn’t say another word.

As soon as they were on the sidewalk and clear of the bus, Evalynn poked Sophie in the side again. “Are you crazy? That guy was adorable!”

Sophie shook her head. “The last thing I need right now is a relationship. I’ve told you before, I’m perfectly happy without a guy in my life.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” Evalynn mumbled under her breath.

Sophie rolled her eyes. “Oh yeah? And do you think you’re so much better off now that you and Justin have tied the knot?”

“Having Justin around is great,” she said emphatically, then paused and placed her hand on her stomach. “It’s just this ‘gift’ he’s given me that I could do without.”

Sophie chuckled lightly, but couldn’t help wondering if the comment was meant as a joke. Evalynn had made a few similar remarks in recent months, and Sophie was starting to worry that maybe her friend was privately struggling with the idea of stepping into the role of mother. She decided not to pry. If Evi was really having a hard time with it, she would eventually say something.

The pair continued chatting as they walked the remaining four blocks to Sophie’s store, although Evalynn carried most of the conversation. Sophie kept an open ear as she moved along, her umbrella perched on her shoulder, but her mind was elsewhere—
lost in memories of birthdays gone by
. At the forefront of her thoughts was the most important birthday of all, exactly twenty years earlier, which proved to be a day of new beginnings and tragic ends; a day that changed the course of every single day thereafter.

But in Sophie’s mind, it would forever be remembered as the day her life shattered.

Chapter 2

You have a good memory, weighed down by bad memories.

September 21, 1989

J
ACOB BARNES RUBBED HIS FACE ON THE SLEEVE OF HIS
coat, trying in vain to wipe away the dizziness from his eyes. He felt as though he might faint again at any moment. His mind raced to piece together details of the last fifteen minutes, but he was still too foggy to recall exactly how he’d gotten to his current position along the side of the road. After steadying himself against a lamppost, Jacob tugged angrily at his silk tie, which suddenly felt like a noose around his neck. The front of his Italian suit was soaked through, but he figured that was just the result of standing around in a daze in the steady downpour of Seattle’s infamous liquid weather.

“Dear God,” he said aloud, once his mind was clear enough to focus on the world around him. He squinted hard to sharpen his focus as he surveyed the scene. Jacob was never known for having a strong stomach, so what he saw before him, combined with his own fuzzy recollection of how it transpired, made him want to vomit. He fought hard to control the urge.

“It’s all my fault,” whispered a terrified little voice from nearby.

Jacob’s dilated eyes darted around, searching for the voice’s owner. A few paces off, sitting all alone on the curb near a yellow fire hydrant, was a young girl. She, too, wiped her face on her sleeve, but only to hide the evidence that she was crying. But it didn’t matter; it was raining hard enough that she could have wiped all night and her face would still be wet. Her nose and lips were bruised and swollen, and a gash on her cheek sent a small trickle of red cascading down past her jaw and onto her neck. The white blouse she wore also bore random flecks of crimson.

The girl wrapped her shivering arms around her legs to protect them from the rain and the unusually cold September wind. “I… I just wanted a p-piece of chocolate,” she sobbed. “Just
o
-
one
piece.”

Jacob felt woozy. He shifted his position against the pole, hoping that would be enough to keep him from passing out again. “You think you caused this?” he asked in a voice more gruff than intended. “What has chocolate got to do with anything?”

The girl answered his first question with a nod, then she began rocking slowly back and forth, carefully studying the commotion down the street. Jacob followed her gaze—the steady whirring of sirens and passing cars, lights spinning and blinking, flares glowing with bright red brilliance, police officers darting here and there while trying to guide traffic, firefighters barking out orders, ambulance drivers, broken glass, bent metal, and blood—so much blood. The sights and sounds, and even the smell and taste of the horrific scene, filled his senses to overflowing. The girl turned again to look at him, but still said nothing.

Just then a policewoman and a young-faced EMT came running over. It occurred to Jacob that he and the girl were far enough away from the accident that they might have been mistaken for onlookers by the first wave of emergency personnel who’d arrived earlier.

“Sir,” the EMT said to Jacob, looking very worried, “let me help you sit down.” He quickly placed his tackle box of first-aid equipment on the ground, then wrapped a giant arm around Jacob’s midsection and lowered him to the curb. “Can you do me a favor? Raise your left hand above your head and keep it elevated while I get you some bandages. Can you do that for me?”

Jacob was more confused by the EMT’s odd request than he was by the young girl blaming the accident on chocolate. “Why? I’m fine. Can’t you see that? Help that kid—she looks a little banged up.”

“Sir, have you—”

“It’s Jacob.”

“Fine. Jacob, you’re in shock. I think you’ve probably lost a lot of blood, and I want to make sure you don’t lose any—”

“Blood? From where? Why am I bleeding?”

“It’s okay. If you follow my directions, you’ll be fine. Just hold your arm up like this.” The EMT lifted Jacob’s left arm for him. Jacob used his other arm to prop it up when the EMT let go.

Another jolt of queasiness coursed through Jacob’s body. “Is the blood from my head? My face?” His voice picked up speed as he started to panic. “How the blazes is holding my arm above my head going to help that? Won’t it just cause more blood to run down to my head and increase the blood loss? Are you sure you know what you’re doing? Are you even old enough to be an—”

“Jacob!” shouted the EMT, his voice like ice. “It’s not your face. Look at your hand!”

Jacob tilted his head absently. Squinting through the pouring rain and the streetlamp’s hazy luminescence, he focused for the first time on the hand he was holding above his head. The sight sent another rush of nausea throughout his abdomen. All four fingers on his left hand were gone, severed completely where they met the palm. Only his thumb remained. He tried instinctively to wiggle his fingers. Oddly, his brain told him that all of them were moving, but only his thumb waved back. “I… I think I need to lie down,” he groaned.

While the EMT attended to Jacob’s hand and a few other less severe injuries, Jacob diverted his attention to the little girl and the policewoman. From his position on his back he could see and hear everything they said. The officer’s name was Ellen, or at least that was how she identified herself to the child. She started by dabbing gently at the girl’s face with a cotton swab while making small talk. Then she sat down next to her on the wet curb. The girl kept stealing glances at Jacob’s mangled hand.

“Everything’s gonna be fine, sweetie. Just fine.” Ellen paused to look at the carnage, as if wondering if anything could ever really be
just fine
in the wake of something like this. “Now, can you tell me your name?” she asked cautiously.

The child looked up at her with a vacant stare, as though she were trying to process the words. Then she nodded and whispered quietly, “Sophia Maria Jones.”

“Wow, that’s a beautiful name. I’m glad to meet you, Sophia Maria.”

The girl swallowed. “I go by Sophie.”

“Then Sophie it is. How old are you, Sophie?” The officer must have been trained to ask the simple questions first, in order to prime the pump for the more difficult questions that, eventually, always have to be asked.

The girl wiped her nose again on the sleeve of her blouse. “Eight. No—nine.”

“Wow,” replied the officer soothingly, “that’s a great age. I remember when I was nine. When was your birthday?”

A new, giant tear formed at the inside corner of Sophie’s eye and spilled out onto her cheek. “
T-t-today
,” she said, choking on the word.

“Oh, I see,” Ellen said softly. “Were you out celebrating your birthday tonight?”

She nodded.

“Sophie, were you in one of these cars?”

Another nod.

A lump formed in Jacob’s throat as he continued listening. He hardly noticed the EMT who was working swiftly above him, wrapping his injured limb with a gauze bandage.

“Can you tell me which one?” Ellen coaxed, looking up once more to survey the wreckage. A blue Datsun rested on its side fifty paces away, just in front of a late-model station wagon that had damage to its rear and front. Neither would ever be driven again, but the passengers at least had walked away. The other four cars involved in the accident—a Volvo, a small pickup, a
Mercedes sedan, and a large UPS delivery truck—were spread out east to west along the four-lane road. The pickup had been struck on the passenger side and flipped over completely, probably hitting the Datsun in the process. The Volvo had suffered the most damage, apparently having been hit head-on by the much larger delivery truck. Jacob’s Mercedes was right-side-up near the opposite curb. Jacob didn’t remember it, but it looked like it had rolled a time or two before coming to a stop. He watched as emergency workers used a hydraulic machine to pry off the Volvo’s crushed door so they could retrieve the lifeless body of a victim trapped inside. On the ground, near the rear of the same car, crews carefully draped a blue sheet over another unfortunate person they had pulled from within. Twenty yards farther down the road, an ambulatory team worked feverishly on the bent and broken body of the UPS truck driver.

“Can you tell me which car you were in, sweetie?” Ellen asked again.

Sophie reticently nodded a third time. She looked sadly at Ellen, begging with her eyes not to have to say. But she seemed to sense that the officer needed to know. Slowly, bravely, Sophie lifted one hand and pointed to the Volvo. “There. That’s my mommy,” she whispered, just as two firefighters gingerly coerced the limp body of a slender woman in her early thirties from the hole in the passenger side, where the crumpled front door had been only moments before.

Jacob couldn’t contain the lurching in his stomach any longer. He turned his head in the opposite direction and vomited all over the ground, not caring that the bile was running right back toward him. He closed his eyes and silently wished he could undo the past hour of his life.

O
FFICER ELLEN MONROE
wanted to cry, but she knew that wouldn’t help anything or anyone. Instead, she swooped up Sophie in her arms and tucked the girl’s head against her shoulder, then carried her quickly to the far side of a row of ambulances where the view of the accident was blocked.

“Looks like you got your hands full,” said another officer, as the pair approached. “Anything I can help with?”

Ellen grimaced. “We’re okay,” she said softly, trying to hide her growing concern for the child in her arms. “But can you put in a call to
double-S
for me? I got a hunch we’re going to need ’em.”

“Double-S?”

Ellen didn’t want to have to say the words
Social Services
in front of the girl. She hinted with her head at Sophie, as she shot the man a look that said,
Use your brain, idiot
!

“Ah,” he said, finally catching on. “Of course. Double-S. I’ll get them on the horn right away.”

Ellen set Sophie down gently on the back end of an ambulance and found a blanket to wrap around her. “You’re gonna get through this, kiddo. You know that, right?”

Sophie only smirked.

“Well you are. There are lots of people who are here to help.” Sophie’s smirk drifted to a frown. Ellen changed the subject, hoping to keep the girl from clamming up entirely before the psychological cavalry arrived. “Earlier, when I first showed up, I thought I heard that man say something to you about chocolate. Do you like chocolate? ’Cuz I happen to have a Kiss right here in my vest. You want it?” She reached into her pocket and pulled out a silver-wrapped Hershey’s Kiss. Sophie’s eyes acknowledged the treat with open interest. “Here you go. It’s all yours.”

Sophie unwrapped the foil and popped it into her mouth, then relaxed noticeably.

Works every time
, thought Ellen. “So tell me, Sophie, what was this cute little nine-year-old doing tonight to celebrate her birthday? You have such a lovely outfit on. Did you go out with your mom for dinner?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Cool. Where did you go? Someplace fun, I bet.” Though she wasn’t a mother herself, Ellen had a special way with kids. Even if she’d never met them before, she could speak to them like they’d been pals forever. It was a skill she found particularly useful in such heart-wrenching circumstances.

“I dunno the name. A Japanese place. We only go there for special times.” Sophie looked down at her hand and then clenched her fingers tightly.

“You got something in there you want to show me?” Ellen motioned to Sophie’s tight fist.

“I don’t want you to see it.”

“Okay,” she replied casually. “That’s cool. So, did you have fun at the restaurant?”

“Yes.” She paused. “They cook it on the table. The chef made a burning volcano out of onions. That was my favorite part.”

“Wow, Sophie. That sounds like a great time. So after dinner, then what?”

“Dad said we had to go, because of school tomorrow.”

Dang! That must’ve been her dad under the sheet.
“Just you, your mom, and your dad?”

“And Grams. She lives with us, ever since Grandpa died.”

Her grandmother, too!
“I see. So you all headed home together?”

“Yes.” Sophie clenched her hand tighter.

“And then… did you stop anywhere else?”
C’mon, Sophie, what happened? Help me understand what you’ve been through tonight so I can help you.

Sophie looked up and down the street, her eyes finally settling on a point a few hundred yards away. “I wanted to. But Dad… he was in a hurry to get home, I guess. I told him the wish of my heart was to get a piece of chocolate at that candy store up there.” She pointed. “They have the best chocolate in town. At least Mom says they do.”

“I’ll be sure to try it sometime. What happened then?”

“Dad said no.”

“No chocolate?”

“Yes. Not tonight, because we already had dessert at the restaurant. But I told him it was the wish of my heart.”

Ellen raised her eyebrows at the use of that phrase again. “What did he say to that?”

Sophie looked down at her clenched fist, then at the policewoman, and then back up the street to the chocolate store. “He… he must’ve forgotten.”