Finding Home

2. Aubrey

Chapter 2

Aubrey

Present day, Seattle

I wake up to my alarm to find two-year-old Raine snuggled up against me, fast asleep. That’s weird. Like clockwork, Claudia always grabs her baby girl out of my bed when she gets home from the hospital. That’s been our deal, ever since I showed up on Claudia’s doorstep over a year-and-a-half ago, feeling broken-hearted and bruised after my breakup with Trent: Claudia takes care of Raine, once she gets home from work in the wee hours, so I can get up early and head off to work in time for the breakfast rush.

With a yawn, I kiss the top of Raine’s soft, blonde curls and grab my phone from the nightstand. Claudia hasn’t dated since she broke up with Ricky about a year ago, but if that cute ER doctor she’s been drooling over finally made his move, I bet she went for it. If that happened, though, she’d surely text me to let me know the exciting news and also that she might not be home at the usual time.

Nope.

I’ve got nothing from Claudia.

Did she feel sick when she got home, and now she’s fast asleep on the cool tile floor of the bathroom? A tad worried, I slide out of bed, taking care not to wake the cling-on sleeping next to me, and tiptoe out of my bedroom. But there’s no Claudia in the bathroom as I pass by. Also, no Claudia in her bedroom. In fact, her bed is still neatly made.

My stomach tightens with concern, but I tell myself not to freak out—that I’ll surely find Claudia asleep on the couch. Claudia is sober these days—she went to rehab the minute she found out she was pregnant—so I wouldn’t normally jump straight to thinking Claudia might have gotten shitfaced and passed out on the couch. But in this moment, my brain can’t come up with any other logical explanations besides that cute ER doc or Claudia falling off the wagon.

My pulse pounding, I stride into the living room, but Claudia’s nowhere to be found. Not only that, her car keys aren’t in the dish by the door; her purse isn’t sitting on the kitchen counter; and there’s no jacket slung haphazardly onto the back of the blue chair.

Okay, I’m officially freaking out.

I look at the time on my phone.

5:12.

Claudia knows I’ve got to be at the restaurant at six, and that it takes me sixteen to eighteen minutes to walk there, depending on lights and weather. She’d never make me late for work, but I suppose there’s still twenty-five minutes for Claudia to walk through that door without doing that.

Suddenly, the location app on my phone pops into my head. I never think to look at it, since Claudia’s always at work or here, and my parents are always in their usual places in Prairie Springs. But I’m definitely thinking about it now.

I swipe into the app and press Claudia’s name . . . and gasp loudly at her location. Claudia is at the downtown Seattle police station . At least, her phone is.

Did Claudia lose her phone and someone brought it in? Or was Claudia the victim or witness to a crime last night? Please, God, don’t let it be that Claudia fell off the wagon and got herself arrested for drunk driving. If that’s the case, I never saw it coming. Yes, Claudia has been grieving her mother’s death; but as a general matter, she’s seemed happier than ever over the past year or so, ever since she ditched Ricky’s ass, and we fell into our happy, peaceful routine with Raine.

My breathing jagged, I smash the button to call Claudia. If she’s sitting in a jail cell, she won’t be able to pick up, obviously. But if?—

“Hello?”

A chill shoots down my spine. That’s not Claudia’s sweet, kewpie-doll voice. That’s the voice of a man—a complete stranger.

“I’m calling for Claudia,” I manage to say, despite my somersaulting stomach. “This is her phone.”

“We’ve been waiting for someone to call, since the phone is locked. Who am I speaking with?”

Dread tightens its grip on my chest. “Aubrey Capshaw. I’m Claudia’s best friend and roommate. Who’s this?”

“Detective Howard of the Seattle PD.”

My heart stops. “Is Claudia hurt? Does she need bail money or an attorney? ”

The man pauses. “Are you sitting down, Aubrey?”

I clutch my chest and squeak out my affirmative reply.

“Claudia was hit by a drunk driver while crossing the street after work last night. I’m sorry to inform you: she suffered catastrophic injuries and died at the scene.”

My brain feels like it’s physically melting inside my skull. “If this is a prank,” I choke out. “Then you’re?—”

“This is very real, unfortunately. I’m sorry for your loss.”

A strangled wail escapes me—a horrible, tortured screech I’ve never heard my body produce before now. It’s the sound of a heart shattering. The sound of a lifelong soulmate being ripped away from its other half. And worst of all, it’s the sound of an innocent, happy two-year-old losing her beloved mommy, in the blink of an eye.

“Maybe it wasn’t her,” I manage between sobs.

“It was definitely her. She had her ID on her and a co-worker identified her. Listen, can you help us contact Claudia’s next of kin? The emergency number Claudia listed at work for her mother doesn’t work, and?—”

“Claudia’s mother died a couple months ago.” With the phone to my ear, I wrap my free arm around myself and rock back and forth, feeling physically ill.

“Can you confirm we’ve got the right number for her father, Ralph Beaumont? We left a voicemail for him to call us, but?—”

“ You called Claudia’s father ?” I scream at top volume. “She never wanted to see him again! She hated him!”

The officer says something in reply, but I don’t hear a word of it; because, suddenly, Claudia’s tiny, blonde doppelganger is standing in the entryway to the living room with wide, anxious eyes and chaotic bedhead.

“I have to go,” I bark into the phone. Without waiting for the detective’s reply, I disconnect the call and stride on wobbly legs to the sweet angel who’s got no idea her mommy is never coming home again.

“You not use inside voice,” Raine chides me groggily, rubbing her eyes and yawning. “‘Member what Mommy said?”

With a loud sob, I pull Raine to me and hold her tightly for a long moment, as she babbles about I don’t know what. Finally, when I lean back to look into her eyes, she wipes at my tears with her little hand and says, “You have boo-boo, Auntie Aubbey? You need Band-Aid?”

The two innocent questions shatter the last remaining shards of my heart. That’s what Claudia always asks her baby girl, whenever she cries for as-yet unknown reasons.

Without waiting for my reply, Raine adds, “I get Mommy.”

She starts to wriggle in my arms, presumably aiming to get down and run to her mommy down the hall, but I keep a firm grip on her and bring her to the couch. “Mommy’s not in there, baby. Stay here with me. I need to tell you something important.”

I place her on my lap, facing me. For a long moment, I can’t get another word out, because my chin is quivering too much. But finally, I manage to pull myself together enough to speak in a tight, halting voice. “Rainey, Mommy went to heaven last night. She didn’t want to go. She wanted to stay here with you, forever, but she didn’t have a choice. She had to go.”

Raine tilts her head and scrunches her itty-bitty eyebrows, looking deeply confused. “Like Gramma?”

I run my fingers through Raine’s soft, blonde hair. “Just like Gramma, yes. Mommy’s body is gone now—” The words feel like razor blades being dragged across my heart. “But her spirit will always watch over you and love you.” I don’t mean to do it, but I lose it; and that’s when Raine loses it, too.

“I don’t want Mommy in da heaven!” she screams. “I want Mommy here now !”

“I know, baby. I want that, too. But she had to go.”

“Mommy come back here now !”

“She can’t. But I’m here, and I promise I’ll always take care of you.”

“I. Want. My. Mommy !” Raine wails, huge tears pouring down her cheeks. She leaps off the couch and puts her hands on her little hips. “ You get my mommy now !”

Raine reminds me so much of her sassy, charismatic mommy in this moment, my body reacts violently. Holding my hand to my mouth, I lurch off the couch, sprint past Raine into the nearby bathroom, and retch out the entire contents of my stomach.

When I’m done, I sit on the floor, crying and whimpering. How the fuck am I going to do this? I’m twenty-four and a waitress. Without Claudia’s money from The Drummer, I can’t afford to live in Seattle on my own. Although, come to think of it, now that Claudia is gone, I don’t even want to live here. Big city life was always Claudia’s dream, not mine. I much prefer the quiet pace of our small hometown.

I make a snap decision. I’ll go home to Prairie Springs—to the place where my parents can help me—financially, emotionally, and logistically—to the place where I can safely break down and curl into the fetal position for however long, while my parents look after Raine.

As resolve floods me, Raine waddles into the bathroom doorway and whimpers that she wants her mommy. Realizing I’ve got to pull myself together for Raine’s sake, I force myself off the floor, gulp down water from the faucet, and splash cold water on my face. When I finally feel capable of speaking, I scoop up Raine and take her to my bedroom.

We lie on my bed together for about twenty minutes, with both of us crying our eyes out. But, finally, Raine sits up and announces she’s hungry and wants Mommy to come back from “da heaven” to make her pancakes.

There’s no point in trying to explain it all to her again. She didn’t comprehend the situation when Claudia’s mother died a few months ago, so she’s not going to understand her mommy’s death any better now. Hell, I’m twenty-four, and I don’t understand death—especially not when it happens to a gorgeous, vivacious, brilliant twenty-four-year-old who lives and breathes for her baby girl.

I wipe my eyes. “I’ll make pancakes, while you stay here and watch a show.” I grab my iPad and Raine makes her selection; and when she’s calm and distracted, I race into the kitchen with my phone to place a call to my parents.

Thankfully, my mother picks up after only two rings, despite the unusual timing of my call. I never call Mom for our daily chat before work. We always talk while I’m walking home from the restaurant after my shift.

“Are you okay?” Mom asks, her voice on edge.

“There was an accident,” I gasp out. “Claudia’s gone, Mom. Raine is here with me. She’s fine. But Claudia is dead.”

The rest of the conversation is a blur to me. Words are exchanged, and my mouth moves, but my brain isn’t connected to any of it. By the end of the conversation, the only thing I’m sure about is Mom is sending plane tickets for Raine and me to come home on the next flight out.

Claudia wasn’t allowed to take Raine back to our hometown of Prairie Springs, thanks to the horrendous agreement she signed with The Drummer. But I never signed that thing. And I never took a penny from the asshole and never will. Which means I can do whatever the hell I want with Raine—which is exactly what I’m going to do.