“Please. Just ask him.” She looked over at her daughter. The girl gave a surreptitious glance in our direction. Missy pleaded to me with her eyes. “Do it for Hannah and Andrew. Please. It’s our only way out.”
I nodded. “I’ll ask my grandfather at the first opportunity. But I can’t make any guarantees. I think you’re better off leaving him on your own.”
“Thank you.” She reached forward and grabbed my arm across the table. “If you see me again, pretend you don’t know me. If Drake ever suspects I talked to you, I don’t know what he’d do.”
“Pretend I don’t know you? Are you nuts? I’m so excited to have you for my friend.” I gripped her wrist with my other hand.
Missy cocked her head. “I mean it, Tish. I’ll look past you like you don’t even exist. It’s safer that way. For both of us.”
Missy was overreacting, of course, but I wasn’t the one who had to face Attila the Hun at bedtime every night. I only hoped she and the kids could weather it through until Drake Belmont got put behind bars.
“I understand.” So much for my first friendship in Port Silvan. My time here looked like it would be riddled with the isolation I’d finally managed to shake off back in Rawlings. It was probably just God trying to teach me how to be happy on my own again. It seemed every time I got close to mastering the lesson, I botched it by getting too attached to someone or another. Maybe this time I’d get the point down pat. Goodness knew it shouldn’t be any problem with the heritage I’d been dealt. Drugs, suicide, and murder certainly didn’t fall on the list of how to win friends and influence people.
I pulled out my golf pencil and scratch pad. “Here.” I scribbled my cell number. “Call me anytime.” As an afterthought, I wrote down Candice LeJeune’s name and number as well. “I have a feeling this woman could do more for you than my grandfather.” I tore the slip off and handed it to her.
She looked at it. “Thanks, but I hope I’m never so desperate I’ll have to call her.”
“I met her last week. She was a little uptight, but seemed like she had things together. I’m sure she’d help if you ever needed her to.”
“That woman sits in judgment over everyone in this town. You, me, and especially your grandfather. He’s one of the most decent people I’ve ever met and she’s got nothing but venom for him.” Missy stared at the slip of paper and shook her head. “It’s hard to believe they were once in love.”
“Candice and my grandfather in love? You’re right. That is hard to believe.”
“Just rumors you hear from gossipy old ladies. Supposedly, Candice had left her husband for your grandfather, but then her husband was killed in a fire and she blamed Papa B for starting it. Nothing was ever proven, but she’s hated the Russos ever since.”
I remembered my meeting with Candice and all her warnings about my family. I couldn’t blame her for being angry with my grandfather if he’d taken matters into his own hands. But I couldn’t condemn the man either. Hadn’t I done the same thing where my grandmother was concerned? The only difference was, I got caught, while he’d apparently gotten off the hook. Perhaps he’d mended his ways after so many years. Missy’s generous portrayal of him gave me hope.
I strummed my fingers on the table. “Like I said, I can’t make any promises. I really don’t know anything about the Russos anymore.” I shrugged a shoulder. “I don’t even know how to get a hold of them.”
Missy nodded. “I’m sure they’ll be getting in touch with you soon.”
“They haven’t bothered trying to reach me the past twenty-five years. What makes you think they’ll start now?”
“Something I overheard.” She reached up and touched her bruise. “It earned me this.” She half-laughed. “I should know better than to throw in a load of wash when Drake’s buddies are hanging in the garage.”
I shook my head in disbelief. “Missy, none of this is your fault. You don’t have to accept that treatment.”
Missy bit her lip. “I know. But it’s just the way it is right now.” She wiped moisture from her eye. “You better get going, just in case Drake decides to check up on me.”
I huffed. “I can’t let you go back there. I’ll make some phone calls. I’ll find you a place to stay.”
Missy gave a vehement shake of her head. “Just tell your grandfather. Please, nobody else.” She looked over her shoulder at the library entrance. “Thank you for meeting me today. Now please go. And forget we ever met.”
I stared at her as I stood up. It took all my willpower not to race up to the desk and dial 9-1-1 and put out a bulletin for Drake Belmont’s arrest.
“Bye, lady.” Hannah gazed at me from the pool of books. I tried not to cry.
“Bub-bye, honey.” My voice came out like the bleat of a goat. I turned to go.
I averted my eyes as I walked past the librarian. Missy was a grown-up. She could make her own decisions. But she was pregnant now. And that meant keeping herself and all of her beautiful children out of harm’s way. If she wasn’t going to help herself, I’d have to do it for her.
8
I’d lost my appetite for sightseeing after taking on Missy’s personal problems as my own. I drove home, the once riveting lake and woods now a dreary backdrop to my thoughts. Ignorance would have been bliss. I could have said hi to Missy and her cute babies once a week at church, confident that everything was hunky-dory back home. But after hearing her story, and her refusal to take the steps I felt were necessary, I couldn’t exactly ignore the situation. If something ever happened, I’d have to live with myself. And my action or inaction under the circumstances would determine whether I’d hold my head up because I’d done the right thing, or hide in shame because I’d neglected to do what I could.
But what was the right thing? Missy insisted I contact my grandfather and tell him alone of her situation. Yet I really couldn’t see that helping her at all. It would be like having her go from one drug dealer to another. In my opinion, getting the authorities involved and getting Missy and those kids to safety was the better plan.
But what if I called the police and everything backfired and Drake didn’t end up in jail? Drake would know Missy had talked to someone and she’d be in an even bigger mess.
By the time I pulled up to the house, all the extrapolation had launched a headache the size of Kadavu, that faraway isle in Fiji where I should have gone instead of here. Was it just a few months ago that Brad had taken me to the Rawlings Public Library and introduced me to Google? I’d typed in “remote tropical island” and up popped the most beautiful stretch of sand and water I’d ever seen.
I slammed the car door and waded through the snow. I’d need at least a year to get this place shipshape, but I promised myself the beaches of Kadavu would be my next stop. I’d promised myself that before. But this time I meant it.
I hung my coat by the door and kicked my boots off on the rug. I’d turned the thermostat down before I left, hoping to be a wise steward of something called propane, a natural gas alternative that enabled this middle-of- nowhere cottage to have heat at all. I had a feeling I’d get to know a good deal about that sewer thing called a septic system as well. Rural life sure wasn’t like living in town where all the necessities were magically provided as long as you paid the bills. Out here, I half expected to find my electric running off some nearby windmill.
After cranking up the wall heater, I headed for the phone book. If I called a heating contractor from Manistique, maybe my anonymity would garner some service. I flipped through the slim guide, hesitating at the “R” page. I ran a finger down the column. Raymond, Reno, Richard, Roberts . . . Russo. Three were listed: Bernard, Gerard, and Joel, all of Port Silvan. I stared at the print. I tapped at the names with my finger.
No.
I wouldn’t make the first peace offering. My family had wronged me, not me them. They’d have to make first contact. I wasn’t here for them anyway. I was here for myself, to put the past behind me and move on.
I tore through the book until I came to the yellow pages. Manistique Plumbing and Heating. They’d do. I put in the call, got the machine, and left a message.
Missy would simply have to be patient ’til my grandfather got around to calling me. She’d lasted this long without his intervention. She could hold out a little longer—or just do things my way and call the cops.
My stomach growled. I’d been so preoccupied with solving Melissa’s misfortunes that I’d forgotten to stop for groceries at the supermarket in Manistique. Now I’d have to stock up with the pathetically overpriced and limited
