Graveminder

Chapter 8

REBEKKAH STOOD AT THE BAGGAGE CAROUSEL. THE AIRPORT WAS MOSTLY empty at this hour, shops closed and gates vacant. She wasn’t quite alert, despite several cups of the nastiness the airline passed off as coffee, but she was upright, awake, and moving. At this point, that was about as much of a victory as could be hoped for.

Cherub, unhappy to be in her kitty carrier, mewed plaintively.

“Just a little longer, baby,” Rebekkah promised. “I’ll let you out when we get ...” The words dried up as she imagined going home and finding it empty. Tonight there would be no rose-scented embrace to make everything less bleak: Maylene was gone. The tears that Rebekkah had kept in check the past few hours slipped down her cheeks as she watched the baggage carousel. Maylene is gone. My home is gone. The few short years Rebekkah had lived with Maylene, and the next nine years of visiting her, had made Claysville home, but without Maylene, there was no reason to come back here.

Rebekkah leaned against the faded green wall and stared blindly while the rest of the passengers got their bags and left. Eventually hers was the only bag circling. The carousel stopped.

“Do you need help?”

Rebekkah looked up at a man in an airport uniform. She blinked.

“Is that your bag?” He pointed.

“It is.” She stood up. “Thank you. I’m fine.”

He stared at her, and she realized that her face was wet with tears. Hastily she wiped them away.

“Why don’t you let me—”

“Thank you, but I’m fine. Really.” She smiled to take the sting out of the words and walked over to heft her bag off the carousel.

Looking unconvinced, he walked away.

Rebekkah extended the handle of her bag, picked up Cherub, and headed toward the rental-car desk. One step at a time. A few minutes later, keys in hand, she turned away from the counter and almost dropped Cherub.

A man in a pair of jeans, boots, and a well-worn leather jacket stood in front of her. His hair was a little longer than usual, brushing his collar, but the familiar green eyes watching her warily hadn’t changed.

“Byron?”

The temptation to throw herself into his arms the way she once had was overwhelming, but he kept his distance.

“It’s been a while,” he started, and then paused. He raked his hand through his hair and gave her a tense smile before continuing, “I know we didn’t part on the best terms, but I thought I’d make sure you were settled in.”

She stared at him, her Byron, here. The past few years had given him more edges, shadows where his cheeks looked too sharp and his eyes too worried, but the gestures were unchanged—so was the wariness.

I earned that.

“I didn’t know you were back,” she said foolishly. Her hand tightened on Cherub’s carrier as they stood there in the sort of awkward silence she’d dreaded when she thought about seeing him again.

After a few moments, he held out a hand for her bag. “Let me get that.”

When he reached out, she jerked her hand away quickly so as to avoid touching him.

The tightening of his expression made clear that he noticed, but he took the bag and motioned for her to precede him.

They’d gone several silent steps when he said, “I’ve been here for a few months now.”

“I didn’t know. Maylene didn’t tell me.” She didn’t tell him that she hadn’t—wouldn’t have —asked Maylene either. Rebekkah had figured out that dealing with Byron was best done by pretending he didn’t exist, that he was as dead to her as Ella. Managing that feat was a lot harder with him walking beside her. Rather than look at him, she looked at the tag on the keys in her hand, staring at them even though she knew the make and model. “The last she’d mentioned you was ... I don’t know when. I thought you lived in Nashville or somewhere down that way—not that I was checking up on you.”

“I know that.” He gave her a wry smile, and then took a deep breath and changed the conversation back to safer territory. “I’ve only been back a few months. Since late December.”

“Oh.” Lack of sleep and grief were apparently making her foolish because she admitted, “I was here at Christmas.”

“I thought you might be, so I didn’t come back until after Christmas.” He walked with her to the rental-car lot. “I didn’t figure either of us needed to deal with ... any of it then, so I waited till I thought you’d be gone back to wherever you were.”

She wasn’t sure what to say. This is what I wanted, what I asked of him. Unfortunately, standing in the deserted lot, jet-lagged, grief-stricken, and lost, made her want to forget all of that. You’re the one who told him to stay out of your life, she lectured herself as if the words would keep her good sense intact.

But as they walked, his already whiskey-deep voice broke the silence: “I told myself I’d stay out of your way, and I will if you want, but I couldn’t ... I needed to make sure you got in safely. I said I’d give you your distance, and I have. I will. I just want you to know I’m here if you need a friend the next few days.”

Rebekkah didn’t know how to reply. They had said words much like those to each other for almost a decade. Since when Ella was still alive. Rebekkah knew it was safer not to look at him, wiser not to let herself go there. She glanced at him and then quickly looked at the car in front of them. “It’s this one.”

“Pop the trunk.”

She did so, and he put the bag in while she put Cherub’s carrier in the backseat. Then she stood unsurely at the door.

He held out a hand, which she looked at blankly. When she didn’t move, he said, “You’ve been up all night. You’re exhausted and upset.” He uncurled her fingers and gently took the keys. “Let me drive you to the house. No strings, Bek.”

“Your car—”

“Bike. It’s a bike, not the same one I had before but ... Anyhow, it’ll be fine here.” He walked around and opened the passenger door. “Let me do this. I can’t fix much of anything, but ... It’s a good hour or more to town, and ... well, I’m here already. Let me be a friend tonight. After that, if you want me gone, I’ll do my best to stay out of your sight.”

“Thanks for meeting me and for offering to—for being a friend,” she said, and then she got into the passenger seat before she did throw herself into his arms. He was the one person who had stood by her side during the two worst things in her life—Ella’s death and Jimmy’s—and now he was here, ready to help her get through a third one. Despite the times she’d stolen away in the middle of the night, the words she’d hurled at him, the calls and visits she’d ignored, he was still willing to help her keep it together.

There were a lot of things she ought to say, apologies, explanations, maybe even excuses, but she was silent as he opened the driver’s-side door and got into the car—and he didn’t push her. He never had.

As they left the lot, Rebekkah relaxed for the first time since she’d received the call. He was the one person left in the world who truly knew her, flaws and all. It felt both comforting and unreal to sit next to Byron. When she’d moved to Claysville during high school, he’d been Ella’s boyfriend, but instead of ignoring Rebekkah, he made sure to include her—enough that she’d thought about him being more than a friend, enough that once, just once, she’d crossed that line.

Then Ella had died.

Afterward, Rebekkah had had a difficult time staying on the right side of the line, and over the years, she’d been in and out of his bed, but it always ended the same way: Byron wanted more than she could give him.

She stole a fleeting look at his ring finger, and he pretended not to notice.

“Do you need to stop anywhere?” he asked.

“No. Maybe. I’m not really sure.” She took a deep breath. “I expect that the cupboards ... that food isn’t an issue.”

“No.” Byron tore his gaze from the dark road only long enough to glance her way. A hesitant look flickered over his shadowed face. “They haven’t started bringing too many covered dishes, but there’s sure to be a few in the fridge.”

“Nothing changes here, does it?” she murmured.

“Not really.” He made a sound that might’ve been a laugh. “It’s like the world outside stops at the town line.”

“Is your dad okay?”

“He’s pretending to be.” Byron paused as if weighing his words and then settled on, “You know he loved her?”

“I do.”

Rebekkah rested her head against the passenger-door window. “I feel like I’ve come untethered. She is—was...”

When her voice faltered, he reached over and laced his fingers with hers.

“She was my rock. No matter how often I moved, how many jobs I failed at, how much I fucked up everything. She was my home, my whole family—not that Mom’s not great, she is, but she’s ... I don’t know, after Ella, then Jimmy ... Sometimes, I don’t think Mom ever recovered from losing them. Maylene believed in me. She thought I was better than I am, better than I could ever be. Her love wasn’t choking, but it wasn’t something I had to feel guilty asking for either.” Rebekkah felt the tears well up again and blinked against blurred vision. “I feel like everything’s just gone. They’re all gone. The whole Barrow family. All I have left is Mom.”

Technically, Rebekkah wasn’t a Barrow: she’d taken the name as her own when her mother had married Jimmy. She kept it because it was Maylene’s name, Ella’s name, Jimmy’s name. They were her family, not by blood, but by choice. The only Barrows left—other than me —were the ones who hated her: Jimmy’s sister, Cissy, and her daughters.

Briefly, Rebekkah wished her mother had come with her, but she wasn’t even sure where Julia was right now. Like Rebekkah, her mother had serious wanderlust. Unlike Rebekkah, Julia didn’t ever return to Claysville; she hadn’t even come to Jimmy’s funeral. Sometimes Julia talked about him, and it was clear that she still loved him, but whatever had happened between them was enough to keep her from ever setting foot in Claysville again.

Rebekkah pulled her hand away from Byron. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

She shrugged. “You get enough people weeping on your shoulder at work.”

“Don’t. Please?” His voice was harsh, but he held his hand out, palm up. “Don’t use my job as an excuse.”

She wanted to be stronger, to not let him in again, to not open a door that she’d need to close again in a few days, but she couldn’t. At the best of times, it was a challenge to resist the pull she felt to him, and right now was far from the best of times. She slid her hand back into his.

For the next forty minutes, he drove silently while she stared out the window and watched for Claysville to come into view. The stretch of road between the airport and the town limits was desolate. For miles, there was nothing but shadowed trees and the occasional road that seemed to lead into deeper darkness. Then, she saw it ahead of them: the sign that said WELCOME TO CLAYSVILLE. She always felt a pressure that she hadn’t even realized she was carrying ease when she passed that line. She’d used to think that it was because she was going to see Maylene, but tonight, with Byron beside her, the feeling of relief was stronger than it had ever been. Before she’d even realized she’d done it, her hand tightened on his—or maybe his grip tightened first.

She pulled her hand away from his as he turned into the drive in front of Maylene’s house and cut off the engine.

Silently, he got out and carried her bag and Cherub’s carrier to the porch. When he started to walk back over to the car, Rebekkah opened the side door and a sob escaped her. She refused to lean on him, but for a moment, the thought of going into the house was too much. She stopped at the door, unable to cross the threshold.

Maylene isn’t here.

Byron didn’t touch her, and she wasn’t sure if she was grateful for that or not. If he did, she’d fall apart, and some part of her needed to stay in control. Another, less stable part wanted nothing more than to crumble.

Quietly he said, “If you need to stay somewhere else, I can take you over to the Baptistes’ B and B, or you can stay at my apartment and I can stay somewhere else. It’s okay if you need time to get your feet under you.”

“No.” She took a deep breath, unlocked the door, and walked inside. Byron followed her in. Once the door was closed, she set Cherub free.

And then she just stood there. Byron waited in the doorway between the kitchen and living room, and for a moment, it was as if time had wound backward.

She looked helplessly at him. “I don’t know what to do. It seems like I should be doing something. She’s dead, B, and I don’t know what I’m to do.”

“Honestly? You should get some sleep.” He took a step toward her and then stopped. Time hadn’t wound backward: they had years of distance and words they couldn’t undo. “You’re jet-lagged and in shock. Why don’t we get you settled in, and—”

“No.” She walked past him and snatched an afghan from the rocker. “I will. Just ... I can’t. Not yet ... I’m going out front to watch the stars. You can join me, or you can go. I’ll be on the swing.”

The look of surprise on Byron’s face vanished before it was even fully there, and she didn’t wait to see what he decided. It was selfish of her to want him to stay, but she wasn’t going to try to convince him. He came to pick me up. It’s not like he hates me. She slipped off her shoes, opened the front door, and went out to the porch that stretched the length of the house. The weathered wood was familiar under her feet. As always, one of boards, not quite halfway between the door and the swing, moaned as she stepped on it.

Maybe it was foolish, but she wanted to at least pretend something was normal. Going out to watch the stars was normal, even if Maylene’s absence wasn’t. She wanted—needed—some part of coming home to be like it always was.

Rebekkah sat down on the porch swing. The chains creaked as she set it to swaying, and she smiled a little. This was right. It was home. She wrapped the afghan around her, looked up at the flickers of light in the sky, and whispered, “What am I going to do without you?”

“You all right?”

The voice in the darkness drew Rebekkah’s attention. A girl of no more than seventeen—older than Ella ever was—stood on the front lawn. Her features were drawn tight with tension, and her posture was wary.

“No, not so much.” Rebekkah looked past her, seeking the girl’s friends, but she seemed to be alone.

“You’re Maylene’s kin, right? The one not from here?”

Rebekkah put her feet down, stopping the movement of the swing. “Do I know you?”

“Nope.”

“So ... you knew my grandmother, then? She’s gone. Died.”

“I know.” The girl stepped forward. Her gait was awkward, like she was trying to force herself to move slower than was natural. “I wanted to come here.”

“By yourself? At three-thirty in the morning? Things must have changed if your parents let you get away with that.” Rebekkah felt a ghost of a smile on her lips. “I thought curfew was still at sunset unless you were with a group.”

The screen door slapped shut with a sharp crack as Byron came outside. His expression was cast in shadows, but she didn’t need to see his face to know he was tense. His tone told her everything as he said, “Do you need us to call someone for you?”

“No.” The girl stepped backward, away from the porch and deeper into the darkness.

Byron stepped to the edge of the porch, positioning himself in front of Rebekkah. “I’m not sure what you’re looking for here, but ...”

The girl turned and vanished, disappearing so suddenly that if Rebekkah didn’t know better she’d think the girl had been a hallucination.

“She’s just gone. ” Rebekkah shivered. “Do you think she’ll be all right?”

“Why wouldn’t she?” Byron didn’t turn to face her; instead, he stood staring out into the darkness where the girl had disappeared.

Rebekkah pulled her afghan tighter around her. “Byron? Should we go after her? Do you know her? I felt like ... I don’t know. Should we call Chris or her family or—”

“No.” He looked over his shoulder at her. “We were out after hours half the time when we were her age.”

“Not alone.”

“Yes, we were.” Byron laughed, but it sounded forced. “How many times did I walk you two home and then haul ass to get back before Dad caught me out alone after curfew?”

In a guilty flash, Rebekkah remembered running inside so she didn’t have to see him kissing Ella good night. She forced herself to hold his gaze. “Maybe I was braver then.” She paused, frowned, and stared past him into the darkness. “God, listen to me. I’m not even back a day, and I’m worrying about curfew. Most towns, most cities don’t have sunset curfews.”

“There’s nowhere quite like Claysville, is there?” He came to sit on the far end of the swing.

“Between the two of us, I think we’d have found it if there was.” With one foot, she pushed against the porch and set the swing to swaying again. “Do you feel the ... I don’t know...click when you come back here?”

Byron didn’t pretend to misunderstand. “I do.”

“I hate that feeling sometimes; it made me want to stay away more. But Maylene is—was everything. I’d see her and sometimes I could forget that Ella was ...”

“Gone.”

“Right. Gone,” she whispered. “Now Maylene and Jimmy are both gone, too. My family is gone, so why does it still feel right coming home? It feels right the moment I cross that line. All those prickling feelings that I feel everywhere else I go vanish when I pass that stupid sign.”

“I know.” He pushed the swing again; the chains creaked from the force of it. “I don’t have any answers ... at least not the ones you want.”

“Do you have other ones?”

For several moments, he was silent. Then he said, “At least one, but you never like that one when I bring it up.”