There Was a Little Girl Read online

  “Knock yourself out.” He looks around to see who’s listening. “Ignore Martha. She couldn’t find her way out of a paper bag. And everybody would get lost without the maps app.”

  Talk about cute in that bumbling puppy way. Probably gets tons of girls. I blink at him a few times.

  “You think we’ll get out early and have some time to chill by the pool?” He sounds hopeful.

  A snort escapes, making the people in front of us look back to see what’s amusing. “Don’t get your hopes up. Not only do we not end early, we always run late. Sometimes late enough they end up bringing dinner in. No way I’ll be walking on the beach tonight.”

  “I love that place on Wrightsville Beach.” The guy holds out a hand. “I’m Lewis.”

  “Hope.”

  Before he can say more, the break is over and the process improvement workshop gets underway. As the woman leading the session drones on, I realize I haven’t missed much. The monotone voice makes my mind wander, drifting back to the dog with black fur. To another black dog a long time ago. How the last time I stroked his coat, my hands came away stained and smelling like pennies.

  CHAPTER 3

  ON THE SECOND DAY OF the workshop, Lynette turns to me.

  “I can’t remember your name…”

  “We were in the same new-hire class two years ago. Been in tons of meetings together.” I know I have an unremarkable face. Pale skin, blue eyes, and boring brown hair, but come on, we’ve seen each other at least fifty times. She’s just being a bitch.

  Over the lunch break, I take my food outside, grab a bench by the water, and try to forget Lynette and her kind. Women are much more vicious than men. Piss a guy off, they’re both playing basketball in an hour. But piss off another woman? You better not leave your drink unattended. She’ll spit in it when you’re not looking and purposely try to make your life miserable. All because of some reason you have no control over.

  A quick glance at my phone tells me I’ve got about fifteen minutes left. The brightly striped case makes me smile. Every season I change the phone case and laptop skin. When you look at the thing every day, you need a change. Change is good. Keeps things fresh.

  There isn’t a line for the ladies’ room, so I pop in and take a look in the mirror. The wind has made a mess of my French braid. Only takes a moment to redo it. My hair is midway down my back and it’s way past time for a trim.

  The hotel is new, with those stalls that have the wooden doors that go from floor to ceiling. You can’t tell if they’re occupied, but the privacy is great. Voices bounce off the tile. My hand hovers over the lever to flush. There’s something about the tone of the woman’s voice.

  “How embarrassing. I would totally die.”

  “Please. Everyone remembers you. Especially the men.”

  The girl laughs, sounding like a sick horse. I cringe. She’s one of her friends.

  When she answers, I hear the sneer in Lynette’s voice.

  “She’s just so average. That chick needs to stay far away from the donuts and Pepsi. At least until she drops a good ten or fifteen pounds. I wanted to tell her, step away from the snacks. Does she think a man wants a fat girl? I can’t believe we’re both twenty-four. Stuck-up Hope acts like she’s a wounded baby deer.”

  “I know, right? I couldn’t even pick her out of a police lineup.”

  Lynette laughs. “What an odd thing to say.” As they wash their hands, the nastiness continues.

  “You catch the slutty shoes Martha was wearing?”

  Lynette laughs, a low, throaty laugh that always draws men’s attention.

  “And the cleavage. Does she think she’s at a bar? Talk about trashy.”

  Their voices fade as they leave the restroom. I lean my cheek against the cool tile on the wall and wait a little longer. The last thing I want is to run into someone else that heard the vitriol those two were spewing. Lynette probably started out as a mean girl in high school. Excluded girls from the sorority because they weren’t pretty or thin enough. The quiet tells me no one else is in the bathroom, so I unlock the door and wash my hands, purposely avoiding my reflection.

  At least Jackson doesn’t care that I don’t look like Taylor Swift. He always tells me I’m sweet looking. Girls like Lynette? I have to hope they don’t age well, otherwise life just isn’t fair.

  The rest of the workshop drags. Finally it’s the third and last day. I tried to pay attention but the words washed over me, fading in and out. I couldn’t stop thinking about the dingy house with green shutters.

  “Hope?”

  “Sorry, what?” I look to the presenter.

  She’s arching a brow as she points to the last process we worked through. “Anything to add?”

  “No, I’m good. We came up with some great ideas to implement. And I really like the idea to hold a ‘locked-in’ session and have everyone work together to cut the fluff from their jobs. Streamlining processes helps everyone’s bottom line.” Then I nudge Lewis. “Maybe we can give whoever cuts their budget the most a month driving the Tesla with free parking.”

  The woman frowns. “That’s a really expensive car, usually reserved for the execs. I’ll have to run it up the chain, but I like it. We’ll get a lot of participation.”

  Lewis grins. “Nice. You know we’ll all get to drive the car for a few days, since our group will run the promo.”

  “Yep.” I grin back.

  “You’re tricksy.” He makes a point of looking me over. “You know, you look like this nice, quiet girl, but I sense hidden depths. I’m betting there’s a killer underneath all that nice.”

  “Flatterer.”

  The session breaks up. Thank goodness it’s over. All I want to do is hit the road. Tonight I’m going to order takeout and get lost in a book.

  “Hey, you want to grab a drink and then dinner outside on the veranda? There’s a nice breeze off the water.”

  The last thing I want to do is spend my precious free time with work people.

  “I’ve a lot of work to do, so I’m heading out now instead of waiting until morning. You should check out Alma’s on the water in Wrightsville. It’s where I went last night. Nothing like walking on the beach and sticking your toes in the water.” Smiling to soften my refusal, I add, “Next time you’re in Raleigh, we’ll grab dinner and drinks.”

  His face falls but he recovers quickly. “That would be great. And thanks for the dinner suggestion.” Lewis winks at me and says in a low voice, “I like a challenge.” He turns to Martha. “Hey, how about dinner?”

  As I gather my stuff together, I wave bye and bolt out the door, anxious to get on the road. Sleep in my own bed. After checking out, it’s time for a quick call, and then the drive home is all mine to be alone with my thoughts and sing along with the radio.

  “How was your day?”

  “It’s crazy today. Going to be another late night.” Jackson sounds calm, like he always does. There could be an earthquake going on around him and he’d still sound calm. I envy that about him.

  “No worries. I thought I’d go to bed early. You know how exhausting these workshops are.”

  “I’ll try to make it home early. Come over and help you finish packing.”

  We talk a bit longer before he has to go. He’s a great boyfriend. Respects that I require time by myself.

  After paying for parking, I hesitate at the exit from the garage.

  “Turn right now.”

  Moments pass. I ignore the voice telling me where to go. A horn sounds behind me. Left it is. Just one look so I can get the images of red and black out of my head.

  CHAPTER 4

  SINCE JACKSON’S WORKING LATE, I don’t have to hurry home. Most of my stuff is packed. Ready to move into the new apartment. My current place is cute but there are tons of kids and I like it quiet. No crowds at the pool or kids running around early in the morning when school’s out and I’m trying to sleep in on the weekend. That’s why I decided not to renew my lease.

  Th
e voice on my phone keeps recalculating as I try and remember the way I came. The detour signs are gone, the work complete. Up ahead I see the corner minimart. The one painted bright orange. This is where I found my way back. Signaling my intent to turn right, I crane my neck looking for one particular house. The streets quickly change. I put down the back windows and listen.

  Driving slowly down the street, I see the same red tricycle turned on its side in front of the house next door. It’s the right street. The fact that I’ve found it tells me I’m supposed to be back here. Flashing lights come into view.

  There are two police cars in front of the house. A woman sits on the steps, hunched over, her face battered, and blood on the front of her shirt. A wave of dizziness sweeps over me, my mouth filling with saliva. My foot eases off the gas until I’m coasting. There’s a man wearing a green t-shirt with a big pot leaf on the front. I can’t make out the words. At his feet is a baseball bat, the length stained the color of the roses bordering my gram’s garden. Ringing fills my ears. I swallow convulsively, willing my stomach to calm.

  The chain on the tree rattles, the sound breaking through the noise. A large black head lifts and pain-filled brown eyes look through me. Then the dog thrashes once and is still. The heap of black is motionless as the sun turns the fur to an iridescent burgundy.

  There’s a stillness in the air. A band tightens around my chest, like a boa constrictor crushing my ribs, liquefying my insides. Harsh breathing fills the car as I try to suck in the air I so desperately need. Sweat pools under my breasts and behind my bare knees.

  A white sheet flutters down, covering the animal. Brightly colored bangle bracelets jangle and I follow the sight to the hands gripping the steering wheel. They look like they belong to a skeleton, not a flesh and blood girl. A part of her died when she was seven. Another part died as the dog with the mangled body took its last breath.

  “Ma’am. You need to move along.”

  I blink but the words don’t register.

  “Miss. Are you okay?”

  The skeleton recedes, leaving my hand with the bright pink nails on the wheel. Turning it over, I see my palm. Trace the veins running up my forearm. So many shades of red. The shaking starts at my toes and works its way up my body until my teeth are chattering.

  A hand on my bare shoulder brings me back to myself. A police officer looks concerned as he looks down at me.

  “I’m sorry. It’s… I…” I press my hands to my face.

  He hands me a paper napkin, opens the car door, helps me out, and parks my car at the curb. Then he comes back to where he left me in the street and takes my elbow, leading me out of the middle of the street where I stopped the car.

  “Don’t sit on the curb. Who knows what you’ll sit in.” He opens the car door and helps me sit in the driver’s seat. “Stay put.”

  When he comes back, he hands me a bottle of water. “You feeling better?” He has a kind face.

  “I’m okay. That poor dog.”

  The cop grimaces as someone calls his name. “Sit here a bit until you feel okay to drive. I gotta get back.”

  “I’m sorry for being such a bother.”

  The hand on my arm is warm. Comforting. “I’d be more worried if you weren’t upset. When we arrived on the scene, my partner threw up.”

  I don’t remember the drive home. Once I was inside my apartment, I kicked off my shoes, threw my bags down, and yanked off my dress on the way to the bathroom. Bra and panties followed, landing in a heap. Once the water was hot, I stood under the spray, tilting my face up, letting the water wash over me. Soothe my churning emotions. When the water ran cold, I wrapped up in Jackson’s robe. Poured a glass of wine to settle my nerves.

  At some point he called. “I tried but there’s no getting out of here anytime soon. Rain check on dinner?”

  “Sure. I’m wiped out anyway. You know how it is. Everyone thinking their idea is the best. I think we could use some process improvement for the process improvement meetings.”

  He laughs. Normally his laugh can lighten my mood, but not tonight. “Is there anything I can do?”

  “No. I just want to go to bed early. How about sushi for dinner tomorrow?”

  “All right, sweetie. Have a good night and get some rest. I’ll make us a reservation.”

  “Bye, Jackson.”

  “Hope?”

  “Yes?”

  “I recognize that sound in your voice. The pizza guy will be there in half an hour. Make sure you eat something, okay?”

  He’s going to make someone a great husband. I hang up and stare at the packed boxes. Before I know it, the doorbell is ringing. Jackson paid and tipped the guy in advance. The smell of pepperoni fills the room, bringing me back to life.

  There is a movie I’ve been wanting to watch, so I put two slices on a plate and the rest of the pizza in the fridge. Settling back on the couch, I take a sip of wine.

  Credits scroll across the screen. I don’t even remember the movie starting. As I get up, the empty wine bottle rolls across the carpet. A bit tipsy, I throw away the uneaten pizza and put the dishes in the dishwasher. Crawling into bed, I pass out.

  The nightmare holds me tight in its grip when I wake unable to move. Harsh pants fill the room. It’s been so long since I’ve dreamt about that day. Long enough I thought I’d banished it to the dark corners of my mind. Obviously not. The only choice I have is to wait until the blackness recedes. My fingers are stiff as I push myself up. Enough light from the streetlights fills the apartment, so I don’t bother turning on the lights as I go looking for relief. Bright light from the refrigerator makes me blink. The bottle of champagne I was saving to celebrate moving to a new place comes out. Jackson will either bring more or he’ll be happy with beer. The pop of the cork sounds like a gunshot, making me jump.

  Padding to the bathroom and pushing back the shower curtain, I climb in and sit down, legs crossed, leaning back against the cool tile. This is where I used to go when I was small. When my parents went to war. Max and I would climb in, pull the curtain closed, and remain hidden. Sometimes Mama or Daddy would come in and go the bathroom. They never knew we were in there. Max always stayed quiet, sensing the danger.

  The bubbles hit my nose and throat. Willing the images back where they belong, I drink again. There will be no sleep for me tonight.

  Morning brings clarity. While I wait for Jackson to arrive, I look up local animal shelters. With a few clicks, I’ve donated to several local and national groups.

  We spend the day at a garden fundraiser his mother chairs.

  “You’re awfully quiet today.”

  “I didn’t sleep well. And you know I’m always nervous around your mother.” I bet he never called her mama. It’s always “mother.”

  Jackson kisses my cheek, twisting my hair through his fingers. “Do you want to spend the night at your place? It’s your last night before we move you tomorrow.”

  The man always smells amazing. Like old books and cloves. “No. Everything’s packed. Let’s stay at your place.”

  “I wish you’d reconsider. Move in with me.”

  A snort escapes. “And have your mother take to her bed for a week? Thanks but no thanks.”

  The hand on my back is comforting. I’m wearing another Lilly Pulitzer dress. One his mother bought me. The blue shirt and seersucker pants Jackson’s wearing coordinate perfectly.

  “Mother would get used to it in time. Think about it.”

  Right. She’d have all her church friends praying for my immortal soul. I’d be cast as the evil temptress leading her baby down the road of ruin.

  The rest of the day is nice. There’s always tons of amazing food at these events. I’ve grown to love Old Fashioneds and mint juleps.

  That night, I wake up covered in sweat. Another nightmare. Not wanting to wake Jackson, I head for the couch. No sense in both of us being up the rest of the night. The blue light of my screen illuminates a circle around me in the darkened living room.

/>   There has to be something I can do. Donations aren’t enough. As I click through links on the animal sites, I’m taken to undercover videos of unspeakable acts. Terrible cruelty. Companies getting away with murder. The more I read, the more I realize how unfair the system is. I click out of another news site. Nothing about what I witnessed in Wilmington.

  It’s almost four a.m. Jackson will be up at six thirty. As long as I’ve known him, he’s always been an early riser. It’s going to be a long day and I need sleep. Shutting down the Mac, I rack my brain for some way to make a difference as I curl up on the couch.

  CHAPTER 5

  “YOU SURE YOU WON’T RECONSIDER? I know I can get your deposit back.” Jackson has brought another load of boxes into the apartment. He stands there wiping the sweat from his brow, a hopeful look on his face.

  “Funny. I hate to pack and unpack.” I love how open and light this place is. So many windows.

  “Did you have to pick the third floor? You would have so much more room at my place.”

  “Think of it this way: living apart, you won’t get tired of me.”

  He laughs, but I can see the hurt in his eyes. There’s no way to make him understand. What would I say? “By the way, I hate sharing space with anyone for more than a night or two”? My first semester in college I had a roommate. The small space. The closeness. It was too difficult, and the next semester I got a single and never looked back. Being so intimate with another person…they got too close. Saw things you didn’t want them to see.

  “It’s only a six-month lease. Let’s revisit then. Maybe by then your mother and I will both be ready.” He isn’t amused. And I think he knows in his heart I’ll never be ready.

  He makes a show of pulling out his phone. “I’m entering the date. Six months from today, Hope moves in with me.”