In Place of Never Read online

  “I miss you. I wish you knew how much. Dad’s still trying to save the town. Pru’s still pretending she’s like everyone else. The color guard’s coming over for popcorn and movies.” I rolled my eyes. “I think she’s planning to sneak out tonight, and I don’t even know if it’s the first time.”

  I settled in the wet grass and tilted my face to the sky. “I’ve never minded our summer storms. Remember when we used to dance in the rain until Dad begged us all inside? He’d laugh and say,” I mocked Dad’s deeper voice, “‘I guess the rumors are true. My girls don’t have the sense to come in out of the rain.’”

  A sound in the distance caught my attention. A rhythm. “Do you hear that?” Wind whipped through the trees, but the eerie sound of tinny pipes and organs floated to my ears. I rubbed my palms over gooseflesh-covered arms and an icy shiver slid down my spine.

  I stood on wobbly knees and moved to the hill’s edge.

  A line of black vehicles crawled along the river toward the campground. Each truck was marked with the symbol that once haunted my dreams. A fancy letter L, circled in curlicue lines and tiny words from another language. “The Lovell Traveling Sideshow came back?”

  After three years, it was back.

  I turned to my sister. “I bet they came for the River Festival. What should I do?”

  I sensed her presence and felt her voice in the wind, obscured by the ringing in my ears. My weary conscience screamed, “Leave it alone,” but my every curious fiber disagreed.

  I’d researched, cyberstalked, and obsessed over the Lovells off and on for two years before I backed off. I squinted at the caravan of trucks below. If one of them knew what happened to Faith, I needed to hear it. Maybe someone at their campsite could help me.

  Dad refused me the courtesy of knowing what happened to my sister. When I’d followed him through our home begging, he’d said I was too young. Faith was too young. I should pray for peace. I’d scoured the local paper and Internet for information. Three years later, the only things I knew for sure were Faith was dead and Dad blamed the Lovells. I’d heard him and Mom after Faith’s funeral. He hated them, but it didn’t make any sense. Faith drowned. Dad believed the Lovells contributed to Faith’s death somehow, despite the coroner’s accidental drowning conclusion.

  I looked over one shoulder at Faith’s headstone. “I’ve got to go. I’ll be back.” I rubbed wet palms against my jeans. My feet stumbled through the grass on autopilot. This was my chance.

  I sprinted toward home, formulating a plan. First, I needed a shower and change of clothes. Next, I needed a picture of Faith from that summer. The Lovells probably saw thousands of new faces every year and three years had already passed. Expecting them to remember one girl from a town as unremarkable as ours was asking the impossible.

  I slowed my pace on Main Street. Outside the honky-tonk, a fresh banner hung from the awning, a photo advertisement for the Lovell Traveling Sideshow. My mouth dropped open as my gaze swept over the ad. I missed the curb and planted one foot in ankle-deep runoff racing for the gutter. “Gross.” My palms hit the sidewalk, stopping me from a complete fall. The open flap of my bag dripped against my pant leg when I stood. I buckled the bag without looking, unable to drag my focus away from the banner. A woman covered in tattoos posed with a set of acrobats front and center. A shirtless strongman with a mask and endless muscles stood behind her. I tried to match Anton and his flowers to the masked man in the photograph. Was it possible?

  A man in tuxedo tails pulled fire from his hat and a woman in a ball gown swallowed swords. Animals in black tutus and studded collars pranced at her feet. Behind the others stood a brown-eyed guy with neck ink, a guitar, and a frown. Cross was a performer all right. He was one of them. A Lovell.

  Chapter 2

  The Number

  The mailman stood at our mailbox, shuffling letters with junk mail. His sour expression spoke volumes.

  I stopped at his side and waited.

  Rain rolled off his plastic poncho, dripping onto a long, hooked nose before landing on his round paunch. The navy walking shorts with knee socks and orthopedic gym shoes were especially sporting with a poncho. He eyeballed me with a look that fell in the stretch between pity and disdain.

  He placed a set of letters in my hand and blinked raindrops from stubby eyelashes. “Tell your father it was a lovely service Sunday.”

  “I will.”

  I splashed down our driveway, flipping through the late notices. “Shoot.”

  I kicked my Chucks onto the welcome mat and shoved my way inside. Cleaning house and making meals weren’t a problem, but Dad had to pay the bills.

  A puddle formed at my feet while I patted my limbs with a dish towel and wrung my hair in the sink. Steady bass pounded the ceiling.

  I tossed the towel onto the puddle and stacked our bills on the kitchen table. With a pen, I wrote “Pay Me” on the top envelope before jogging upstairs. Music blared from Pru’s room. I rounded the corner and climbed the third flight of stairs to my room. At least I knew she was home and safe.

  Music beat against my bedroom floor, ruining any chance of a peaceful shower. I rushed through the process and redressed in my old color-guard T-shirt and cotton shorts before dealing with my hair. My third floor room had plenty of perks like solitude and a tiny bath, but Dad didn’t allow door locks. Instead, we had a strict knock-three-times-before-barging-in policy. Dressing at my leisure wasn’t an option.

  I raked a brush through tangled, wet hair. The black lines in my otherwise sandy hair were less noticeable after a shower. What had begun as one rebellious streak of mourning my sister became a dozen when Mom joined her. That was right before I checked out. Disconnected. Quit. In the reflection of my mirror, the outgrown streaks looked more like intentional black tips creeping over my shoulders. I held the blow dryer over the ends and brushed them dry.

  My unmade bed called to me, begging me to let this day come and go without participation. I set the hair dryer aside. My blankets wound into a beckoning nest that I longed to crawl inside and disappear, but this wasn’t the day. I wasn’t that girl. I opened my laptop and jammed earbuds into my ears. I wouldn’t lose another day to sleep and sadness. The bass of Pru’s music reduced to a low drone and vibration against my feet. I opened folders of photos from Faith’s last summer. She was my age then.

  There were so many pictures.

  Faith had been my entire world. I’d emulated her. Adored her.

  Lied for her.

  I had dozens of shots of her in her color-guard uniform. Photos of her in her pj’s on Christmas morning. Fishing with Dad at the river. Carrying Pru on her shoulders. A hole opened in my chest as memories flooded out. Shame strangled me, the way it always did when anger jumped forward. How dare she leave me when I needed her so much? How dare I blame her?

  I shut the folder and opened a search engine. I’d take her senior picture with me to see the Lovells. Meanwhile, I needed a plan. I needed the right words. My bookmarks tab had a compilation of links dedicated to the Lovell’s Traveling Sideshow. The Lovells had been in town the night Faith died. In the morning, they’d been gone. Dad skirted the details beyond those facts. There was an accident. Your sister drowned. Faith hadn’t gone to the river to see the Lovells, but the Lovells had been at the river and so was she. When kids from school had gossiped about her death, calling the accident a suicide, I’d died along with her. She wouldn’t have done that. I’d prayed for someone to tell me if she was alone that night. The Lovells might’ve seen her. If they had seen someone with Faith and described them, I could put a name to the description and talk with that person. As the pastor’s kid, I knew almost everyone in town. If I followed the clues, maybe I could understand why we’d lost her. The official report didn’t matter. Lifeguards didn’t drown unless they wanted to.

  I hadn’t considered Faith capable of suicide, despite what everyone said, until three months later. If Mom could do it, maybe it was in our genes.
God knew how many times I’d stood at the riverbank, imagined walking in and disappearing. What would that do to Pru?

  I couldn’t do that to Pru.

  I opened a site from my bookmarks. The Lovells’ website was basic. Shades of black and gray with punches of crimson. The pictures were affected with a basic antique filter. I hadn’t visited the website in months, maybe a year, but it looked the same. There wasn’t much to learn on the site, aside from pricing and act details. They performed at parties and events but often traveled with carnivals and fairs. I’d long ago moved on to stalking the cast and crew through social media and the blogs of others who’d seen the show. I pinned every stop on a map. For what purpose, I didn’t know. Maybe I hoped they’d return and answer my questions about Faith’s death. Maybe I needed to know she hadn’t left me intentionally.

  The Lovells were a large family. Their last name suggested they were Roma, a group most people called Gypsies, but I tried not to think of them that way. I’d learned Gypsy was an offensive word to Roma. Aside from the name, I wasn’t convinced they were Roma. Probably they’d taken on the name for added mystique or legitimacy. They had a standard sideshow palm reader and psychic, but none of their acts or advertisements specifically referenced a Roma heritage. I’d researched that too.

  Nadya and Nicolae were the elders of the group. They had several children, Beau, Anton, Tom, and Rose. Anton. I ground my teeth. I’d never met anyone named Anton until today and yet I’d never suspected him as a Lovell. They hadn’t been here in so long.

  I shut my eyes. What was I doing? Questioning the Lovells about something so personal and so long ago was the silly conviction of a fourteen-year-old. Even if they remembered something about a girl near the river, how would it matter? I shut the windows on my computer screen and pulled in a cleansing breath. I shouldn’t go. Shouldn’t get my hopes up. Maybe I shouldn’t even want to know.

  Pru’s music cut out.

  “Thank you.” I pulled the earbuds free.

  My heart seized before my mind processed her scream. I barreled headlong down the steps toward Pru’s room, terrified of what I’d find. What if she was hurt? I couldn’t lose her. Not her too. My ankle rolled, spilling me into the hall outside her open door. “Pru!”

  I gasped as the scene before me took shape. Dad had a boy by his elbow, dragging him into the hall as I scurried out of their way. Pru held a quilt to her chest, bare arms poking out on either side. Her ruined ringlets fuzzed over her shoulders. Tears stained her cheeks. “I hate you!” Her voice cracked. “I hate you! You’re never here. What are you even doing here? My life is none of your business!”

  She wasn’t hurt. My chest heaved and dropped. I tilted my face to heaven for a quick “thank you” and hobbled into her room, securing the door behind me. I’d help the boy in a minute, assuming Pru was a willing participant. If not, I’d help Dad dig a hole.

  “Not you.” She face-planted onto her bed, quilt-first, in nothing but panties.

  I threw a blanket over her. “So.” I dragged the word out several syllables.

  She screamed into the bed.

  “What were you doing?”

  Pru turned her face to better scowl at me. “We were trying on my clothes and Dad got the wrong idea.”

  I nodded in mock acceptance. “Yep. Yep. I can see how that could happen. Did your bra fit him okay, then?”

  Pru snorted and buried her face again. “Shut up. Go away. This is none of your business.”

  I waffled. Who was I to stay if she didn’t want me?

  Who would stay with her if I left?

  I tossed her clothes onto the bed. “I hope you used protection.”

  Pru shot upright, clutching the quilt. “I hate you.” Her words lost their heat. “We weren’t having sex. I’m saving myself for marriage.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Right.”

  She cocked an eyebrow. “Aren’t you?”

  I frowned. As if any guy in this town would touch me. “No.”

  “I can’t tell if you’re lying.”

  “Get dressed.”

  She scoffed. “Whatever. Just go.”

  I moved to the doorway and slid out, hoping she didn’t really hate me. “I’m not saving myself.”

  The door clicked shut and I took a deep breath. Pru would survive. Her reputation might not, but she was resilient. She could probably spin this to her benefit.

  I edged closer to the door beside hers. My old room.

  A gentle touch of my fingertips dislodged the door and it creaked open on tired hinges. No one went in there. Not anymore. The pink and white stripes looked as inviting as Faith and I had hoped they would. Twin canopy beds stood along the back wall. Matching vanities and dressers pressed against the opposite wall. One bed had white eyelet comforters and pillowcases. Mine. The other was decked out in our school colors. Faith’s color-guard pillow lay on the floor by my vanity, right where she’d left it after beaning me in the head with it that night. It was the last night I’d stayed there.

  Photos of us clung to the vanity mirrors. I forced my feet forward and stopped at Faith’s mirror. Her perfume had permeated the fabrics of the closed room. She was everywhere. I freed a close-up snapshot of us, cheeks pressed together, smiling as though we’d grow old and babysit one another’s kids someday. I caressed her face with one thumb, regretting the decision to come inside our old room. It hurt in here.

  Dad’s voice bellowed through the house. His angry bark snapped me back to the crisis at hand. Prudence hadn’t earned her name today, and Dad, therefore, had failed as both pastor and parent. I wound my way down the next flight of steps and peered into the kitchen.

  A boy with good hair and bad skin sat at our kitchen table looking a little pissed. His shirt was on, but he hadn’t bothered to straighten it or pull it over his flat, freckled stomach. Dad’s eye twitched. He’d blamed a boy for breaking Faith’s heart, or I assumed as much based on a number of Sunday morning sermons about the perils of teen romance. Teens aren’t ready for the ramifications and heartbreak of first love. I supposed he assumed a broken heart was the reason she had gone out alone that night. His theory hadn’t given me much motivation to find love, ever. Maybe that was the point. Apparently the tale hadn’t affected Pru.

  “Dad?” I went to the sink and poured a glass of water.

  He pressed his fists against his hips. “Mercy, this doesn’t concern you.”

  “I know.” He was right. I had no right to push my way into their lives after avoiding them for so long. So, why did it feel so important? “I just thought you’d want a witness.”

  Both sets of eyes jumped to catch my gaze.

  “I mean, just in case...”

  Dad’s shoulders slumped. “This isn’t my first rodeo, darling. I’ve already contacted Jason’s parents. They’re on their way and we’ll talk about this together.”

  Right. Of course he’d wait for the parents. Protocol for ministry was engraved in his brain. I grabbed the stack of unpaid bills on my way out. “I’ll put the mail with your Bible.”

  “Thank you.”

  I eased through the kitchen doorway with one backward glance. Whatever Pru saw in Jason eluded me. Maybe he had a good personality, but the way he sat cocked sideways and tipped back in the kitchen chair reeked of disrespect and attitude. His obnoxious bright red high-tops probably cost more than half my wardrobe. If Dad jerked the chair leg and upset Jason, I’d cover for him.

  “Mercy?” Dad’s voice was calm, almost pleasant. “Can you ask Pru to get down here, please?”

  “Yep.”

  I didn’t have to go far. Pru stood on the bottom step. She at least had the decency to look embarrassed, if not ashamed. Dad had seen her boobs and her underpants. Personally, I’d never leave the house again, but this was Pru and, from the rigidity in her form, I’d guess she was angry with him for barging in. He’d probably knocked three times first, but she never would’ve heard him over the music.


  I lifted a thumb over one shoulder. “Dad wants you.”

  She crunched her face at me as I passed on my way back upstairs. Whatever she’d planned for tonight was most definitely canceled now. Dad hadn’t been so worked up since Faith got busted sneaking a guy into our room when I was thirteen. Dad had threatened to move me into Pru’s room and put a lock on Faith’s door. On the outside.

  Ten minutes later, Jason’s parents arrived. I listened from the privacy of my room. Dad was a gracious host. He made coffee and offered some cheese and grapes from the fridge. It went downhill from there.

  Jason’s dad’s voice boomed through the house. “Stop pushing your religion onto our family, preacher.”

  “This isn’t about the church.” Dad’s counseling voice was in gear. “It’s about protecting the children.”

  Jason’s mom barked a high-pitched laugh. “Don’t be ridiculous. I provide our son with protection. He’s a responsible sixteen-year-old with all the facts and a mind of his own.”

  I imagined Dad swallowing his tongue at the revelation of Jason’s age and accessibility to condoms. Pru was never leaving the house again.

  The doorbell rang and the house stilled.

  I shuffled toward the door, glad for a reason to get a better position inside the house. “I’ll get it.” Old air vents carried sounds well, but a first-floor seat was better.

  When I grabbed the doorknob, Dad was in the middle of insisting his “girls are respectable young women with high moral values and equally high expectations for their suitors.”

  Oh, yes. We had oh-so-many suitors. Pru was only fifteen and I’d never had a real boyfriend. I opened the door with a snort.

  The guy on our porch stared at me from a solid six-inch difference in height. “You dropped this earlier.” He handed me something that looked a lot like my wallet.

  “Uh.” I pinched the soaking-wet wallet between my thumb and first finger, as if it might explode.