Untethered (27 page)

“Horrible?” Allie said, laughing.

“Difficult, I'd have said. I thought that was because you were angry with me for not liking them.”

“I was.”

Char squinted at the teenager beside her and tilted her head sideways.

Allie, still laughing, said, “You need to get better at some of the girl stuff, CC, if you're going to have two of us to deal with.”

•   •   •

T
wo hours later, Char made the final turn of the trip, onto their street. Her two passengers had been asleep since Ann Arbor and the car had settled into a peaceful silence. She had left the radio off. The quiet was so different, compared to twenty-four hours earlier when Sarah was in the car. The trip south had been full of fear and worry and sadness. Northbound, she felt hope.

Until she saw a strange car in her driveway.

And Lindy, leaning against its hood.

A
llie woke when the car stopped. “We're home?” she asked, yawning. “Wait, who's here? Is that the Crews' car?” Instantly, she was sitting up straight, wide awake. She turned to the backseat to check on Morgan, who was still sleeping. “Will you go talk to them right now, so they don't take her?”

“It's not the Crews,” Char said.

“What?” Allie said. And then Lindy was at the passenger door. “What is she—?” Allie jumped out. “Mom? What are you doing here? When did you—?”

Lindy opened her arms and Allie walked into them. “I've never been happier to see anyone in my life!” Lindy said, pressing her face into Allie's hair and inhaling. “This has been the longest twenty-four hours—”

“When did you get here?” Allie asked.

“This morning. I took the red-eye last night.” Lindy turned to Char, who had walked to their side of the car. “That's why I couldn't call you last night,” Lindy said. “I was on the plane.”

Char nodded slowly, realizing now. “And iMessage works on the plane. Why didn't you tell me?”

“I guess we don't tell each other everything,” Lindy said.

Allie stepped away from her mother and looked from one woman to the other. “What does that mean?”

But Lindy kissed her daughter's head instead of answering, and Char had more pressing matters on her mind. “How long are you staying?” she asked.

“We're on the first flight out of Detroit tomorrow morning.”

“What do you mean, ‘we'?” Allie asked, regarding her mother suspiciously. “Who else is—?”

“We are,” Lindy said, placing a palm on the top of Allie's head and running it down the length of the girl's hair. “You and me. We'll ship your things. We'll buy whatever you need until they arrive.”

Char felt the little energy she'd had left drain away, and put a hand on the hood of the car to prop herself up.

Allie snapped her head back, out of her mother's reach. “What are you talking about? I'm not leaving tomorrow! I'm not leaving at all!” She aimed her thumb to Char's backseat and the sleeping child inside. “We're going to look after Morgan. I'm going to help! Char, tell her! Char's going to ask Morgan's parents if we can—”

Lindy stepped toward Char's car, peered into the back, and stepped away again, her expression unimpressed, as though she had been asked to view a piece of art she didn't care for. “I'm afraid that's not at all what you're going to be doing. What you're going to be doing is getting on a plane with me and coming home.”

Turning to Char, she said, “I don't know what kind of place you're running here, Charlotte, or why you'd be under the impression that I'd even consider letting my daughter spend one more day
with the girl who started all of this. Or with the woman under whose watch she managed to leave town unnoticed and drive three states away. A woman who felt no need to tell me about it.”

“What kind of place she's running?” Allie said. “What are you talking about? It wasn't Char's fault! Did you hear what I told you when you called last night? About why I went after Morgan, what her parents did to her? What do you expect us to do now, send her back to them so they can do it again? Let her end up who knows where, with who knows what kind of people?”

Char saw movement in the back of the car and craned her head to get a better view. Morgan had shifted in her sleep, but hadn't woken. “Let's take this somewhere else,” she whispered, pointing to the front walk on the other side of Lindy's rental car. “I don't think Morgan needs to wake up and hear us.”

“I really don't have anything more to say about it,” Lindy said, but she followed Char anyway.

“Well, I do!” Allie said, following the women. When they reached the walk, Char and Lindy turned toward the driveway, their backs to the house, while Allie stood facing them. “I have a lot to say about it!” she said, hands on her hips. “Like, how unfair it is that all this time, you've been so . . . wishy-washy about when I'm going to move to California, and even whether I am.”

“Allie,” Char said, her voice a warning. Pushing Lindy was never a good idea. If they wanted her to back down, they had to find a way to let it be her decision. Swing at Lindy and she would only swing back harder. “Let's not use phrases like ‘wishy-washy.' Let's—”

“No!” Allie said, facing Char. “Don't try to defend her now. You always do that, and she hasn't ever deserved it. She needs to hear this. I need to say it.” She turned back to her mother.
“Wishy-washy,” she almost spat. “That's what you've been. Even when I was asking you to take me with you, right after Dad died. Even when I practically
begged
you to take me. . . .”

She raised a hand to wipe her eyes and gave Char a guilty look. Char shook her head, letting the girl know there was no need. She hadn't known about Allie's plea to move to Lindy's right after her father's death, but she could understand it. The only person who didn't seem to understand it was Lindy.

“But you were all, ‘I'm not sure this is the right timing,'” Allie continued, addressing her mother again, “and, ‘Let's wait and see how it goes,' and, ‘You don't want to make any change now, in the middle of a semester.' And now, the very day I decide that I want to stay here, you show up and tell me I have to leave? How is that fair?”

“There's no requirement that a mother make only those decisions that are fair,” Lindy said. “And I'll thank you to lower your voice. Not only are you going to wake the girl, but you're going to wake the entire neighborhood. I'm not sure how you speak to Charlotte, or how you used to speak to your father. But you are not going to stand there and lecture me.”

“I don't raise my voice to Char because she doesn't pull this ridiculous . . . surprise . . . shit on me!” Allie yelled. “I don't want to go with you! How do you like that? I might have wanted to before, but now I don't. I don't need you, and I don't want to be with you! I want to live here! I
do
live here! This is my home! It's where I'm from! It's where my friends are, and the people who matter to me!”

Silently, Char caught Allie's attention. She shook her head and drew a finger across her throat, warning the girl not to go on. Everything Allie was saying was valid, and in a fantasy world, Char would pile on with her. She would blast Lindy even harder than Allie was
doing. List for her in great detail all the ways she had failed her daughter. Make it clear that she, of all people, had no right to accuse Char of falling down on the job of raising Allie. At least Char had taken on the position. Lindy had quit years ago.

But this was the real world. And telling off Lindy was out of the question unless Char was prepared for the other woman to speed off into the night with her daughter immediately and forbid Char from making contact ever again. Char had a different result in mind, which meant she needed to keep her feelings about Lindy to herself. Allie did, too.

Lindy stepped toward her daughter and took her by the arm. “Allison Waters Hawthorn! Don't you speak to me like that!”

“Don't you tell me what to do!” Allie yanked her arm out of her mother's grip and stepped away. “Or how to talk! It's been
four months
since Dad died, Mom, and you've been nowhere! What did you think was going to happen? How did you think I was going to feel, after all this time—”

“That's not true at all!” Lindy said. “I flew here immediately to be with you that week. In a snowstorm, I might add, and after canceling some extremely important meetings—”

“You came here for five days, two of which you spent with your friends! And then, when I went to see you over break, you spent the entire time at work—”

“Which, I explained to you, was because of the time I had taken off to come up here—”

“Oh please!” Allie said. “You explained? There is no explanation, Mom! Don't you get it? There's no excuse! I needed you, and you weren't there for me! And it sucked!”

“Allison!” Lindy said. “That is enough!”

“No,” Allie said, her voice low now, determined. “It's not
enough.” She pointed to Char's car. “Now, there's someone who needs me. And I'm going to be here for her. Because I know what it's like when the people you're counting on aren't there for you.”

Allie looked to Char, who was staring at the girl, stunned by what she was saying to her mother. “Tell her, Char,” Allie said. “Tell her what we talked about. Tell her how we both want me to stay here. Tell her about Morgan. Tell her—”

Before Char could speak, Lindy held a hand up. “Save your breath, Charlotte,” she said. “This is not a committee decision. This is a parenting one. And I have made it.”

“But you can't!” Allie said. “You can't just fly in here and announce you've made a decision like this and—”

“Oh, but I can,” Lindy said.

“Char!” Allie pleaded.

“Well,” Char said, holding both hands up to calm the others down, “it's not up to me, of course—”

Allie gaped. “What? But you told me you would—”

Char shook her head, urging Allie to stop. A direct request that Lindy leave Allie in Michigan would never work, not now. She was calling an audible.
Same end goal, change of strategy
, she tried to tell Allie with her eyes.
Trust me
.

Allie didn't catch on. She made a noise and crossed her arms. “Great,” she said. “Just like always.” She walked away several steps and planted her feet, her back to the women.

“If you'd give me a chance,” Char called after the girl, “I was going to say, it's not up to me, of course. Lindy's your mom.”

Char watched as Lindy's face softened. Some day, Char would have to share this secret with Allie. Hand Lindy all the power and she wouldn't use it. Fight her for it and she'd blast you into outer
space. Lindy's nastiness was the trees. Char was looking past it and concentrating on the forest.

“If you could just hear me out,” Char said to Lindy. “Before you make your final decision.”

Lindy started to speak and Char cut her off. “Please.”

“Fine,” Lindy said. “But I—”

“All I want is a chance.”

Lindy nodded. “Fine.”

Allie turned around, uncrossed her arms, and moved closer.

“I'm sorry I lied to you,” Char said to Lindy. “It was wrong. I should have told you the second I knew she was missing.”

Char saw Allie roll her eyes. The girl would get over it, Char told herself, once they were in the house, with Morgan tucked safely in the guest room bed and Lindy off to her hotel, prepared to fly back to LAX alone.

“As for letting her get so far away with the car, I'm sorry about that, too. I'm not sure what else I could have done, honestly, except maybe lock up the keys—”

“Which you might have thought of, given the kind of kids she's been hanging out with lately,” Lindy said.

Char took the hit without reacting. Allie didn't. Char saw the girl's hands go to her hips, her torso angle forward toward her mother, her mouth open. Before Allie could launch another offensive and undo the small amount of peace that had settled among them, Char spoke again: “Allie and I have talked about those kids, and she has decided she won't be spending time with them anymore. She realizes they're not the best influence.”

“I'm not sure why you felt the need to let her come up with that decision on her own,” Lindy said. “Keeping teenagers out
of trouble takes a firm hand, Charlotte. Firmer, I think, than you have.”

It was tougher to take that hit without flinching.
What do you know about keeping teenagers out of trouble?
Char wanted to scream.
The forest, not the trees
, she told herself. She put her hands behind her back and clenched them into fists, spread them wide, clenched them again. She took a deep breath and forced her lips to stop pressing together in an angry line.

“I need to be firmer,” she said. “I agree. I intend to be. I think both girls will benefit from a more . . . structured environment. And I will provide that—”

“You're prepared to provide a structured environment for my daughter and the terribly disturbed little girl you've now decided to take in?” Lindy said. “Forgive me if I don't find this reassuring.”

Char forced herself to take another deep breath. To stop fantasizing about punching Lindy. Screaming at her. She cleared her throat. “Let's not speak that way about a ten-year-old,” Char said, fighting to keep her voice even. “Morgan is . . . a girl with a sad history.” She said it slowly, trying to keep the anger from coming out in her words. “I don't think I'd call her ‘terribly disturbed.'”

“Of course you wouldn't,” Lindy said. “Which might make you a lovely human being. But does not, I'm afraid, make you the best choice for looking after my daughter.”