Chapter 28
TWENTY-EIGHT
All Jane could think about for the rest of the night was Nik’s mouth pressed against hers, his hand sliding down her spine… the truth that she would have had her clothes off and on the floor in about two seconds if it weren’t for their friends and family in the next room. She felt like a giddy teenager with a crush all over again, her face flushing and butterflies taking flight in her stomach every time Nik walked into the room.
Even a phone conversation with Matteo the next morning couldn’t take away her happiness. He barely muttered an obligatory “Merry Christmas” before he started complaining about the staff at the club. Jane made all the right noises to soothe him, agreeing that it sounded incredibly stressful. But maybe it was the thousands of miles between them, or maybe it was the memory of being surrounded by her old friends last night, because she just didn’t feel the same anxiety when he started getting worked up. His anger didn’t have quite the same power over her.
We don’t have to live like that anymore.
She ended the call as quickly as possible and headed to the living room, where Scarlett was drawing in the sketchpad that Jane had given her for Christmas, and Mom was reading the newspaper. Or at least Mom had been reading the newspaper. Now it appeared that she was glaring at Dad’s old recliner. “I hate that thing.”
Jane took in the ugly brown color, the worn spot on the arm where Dad liked to rest his drink and the remote control, the sag in the seat cushion. Jane had always hated it, too. That chair had been Dad’s favorite, it was where he used to sit when he got home from work. Though he hadn’t smoked in the house, the tobacco scent had seeped from his clothes into the fabric, and she’d always thought that the chair smelled like the bottom of an ashtray. Nobody had sat there since Dad had died, and it almost seemed like they all gave that chair a wide berth. Even Scarlett made a face when she walked by it. Maybe the scent of it reminded her of the stale tobacco smell that lingered on Matteo.
“It’s ugly,” Jane said.
“And old,” Mom added.
“And it stinks .” Scarlett held her nose, confirming Jane’s suspicions.
“It definitely stinks,” Jane agreed, glancing over at Mom. “Why don’t you get rid of it?”
Mom eyed the chair for so long that Jane wondered if she were getting sentimental and missing Dad. But then Mom stood, brushing off the front of her pants. “You know, I think I will.” She set her hand on the back of the chair and gave it a shove, as if she were testing how sturdy it was.
Jane raised her eyebrows. “You’re going to get rid of it right now?”
Mom shrugged. “No time like the present.” She gave the chair another shake. “The garbage men come tomorrow. I think we ought to have that chair on the curb for them when they arrive.”
Jane looked at Scarlett, whose mouth twitched in a smile. “ Okay.” Jane mirrored her mother’s movement, standing up and brushing off the front of her leggings. “Let’s do it.”
“Yay!” Scarlett yelled, jumping to her feet.
Getting the old recliner out to the curb for the garbage men proved to be more difficult than anticipated, though. For one thing, it weighed about five hundred pounds and was impossible to lift. Together, Jane and Mom managed to shimmy it inch by inch across the living room and through the doorway into the hall.
Jane eyed Mom, who was panting heavily. “Are you sure this is a good idea? Maybe it’s too much for you.” She remembered Mom’s old wrist injury.
But although Mom looked tired, her eyes shone brightly. She shook her head. “Are you kidding? I’m just getting started. Only a little farther now.”
By the time they got it to the front door, they were both red-faced and gasping. And then they hit upon the next problem. The chair wouldn’t fit through the front door. They tilted it to the left, then right, and then Jane tried to lift one end to slide it diagonally through the frame. She nearly threw her back out and almost dropped it on Mom’s foot.
“This is not going to work,” Jane grunted, setting it back on the floor as gently as she could.
“We started this,” Mom panted. “I want that chair out.”
Jane shoved her sweaty bangs out of her face. “Maybe we should call someone to help? A moving company?”
“That will take days to arrange.” Mom gave the chair a kick. “I’m not moving it back into the living room.”
“What about that high school kid down the street?” Jane propped her hands on her hips.
“I have an idea.” Mom brushed her hands together. “Come on, Scarlett, you can hold the door.” She moved down the hall into the kitchen, and Jane heard the basement door open. A moment later, Mom appeared back in the hallway, limping under the weight of the sledgehammer she was carrying. Scarlett skipped beside her in excitement.
Jane’s eyes widened as she put the pieces together. “Are you sure this is a good idea?”
“It’s a great idea.” Mom held out a palm. “Scarlett.” Scarlett slapped a pair of safety glasses into Mom’s hand, and Mom slid them on her face. “Stand back.”
Jane grabbed Scarlett around the shoulders and tugged her out of the way of Mom’s wind-up. Mom took a deep breath, wrapped both hands around the handle, reeled back, and took a swing. The hammer came crashing down into the back of the chair with a loud crack. Jane yanked Scarlett back farther, just in case, but though the wooden frame of the chair buckled, it didn’t break. With a grunt, Mom swung again, landing the hammer in the same spot, and the wood cracked a little more. She bounced on the balls of her feet, and swung again. And again, it cracked against the wood, but the frame stayed intact.
By this point, Mom’s chest was heaving, the hammer hanging by her side.
Jane took a step forward. “Let me try.”
Mom passed the sledgehammer to Jane and took her place against the wall next to Scarlett. Jane eyed that chair, picturing Dad sitting in it, yelling at Mom to get him a beer. She pictured Matteo sitting there, too. The burnt tobacco smell was stronger now, probably from the years of dust that had settled in the old cushions and was now kicked up into the air. Jane hated that chair. She wanted that chair out of this house, out of her sight. Just like Dad. Just like Matteo.
She reeled back, swinging the sledgehammer with a strength she didn’t know she possessed, letting out a guttural yell as she brought it down as hard as she could into the chair back. This time, the wood cracked, then splintered, tearing a hole in the worn brown fabric as the hammer sliced the back of the chair into two .
“Yeeees!” yelled Mom, pumping her fist in the air as Scarlett jumped up and down with her hands raised like a boxer who’d won a fight.
Jane handed the sledgehammer to Mom again, who took three or four good whacks at the side of the chair back until it entirely broke off and slumped backward toward the floor. Then Jane got to work on the seat, hammering at the frame until it collapsed inward. Mom ran to get the kitchen scissors and they cut the fabric, pulling out the cushions and tossing them onto the lawn. It took almost an hour of hammering, cutting, and tearing at the chair until all that was left in the hallway was a pile of dust, splinters, and crumbled bits of cushion filler.
“Well,” Mom said, rubbing her shoulder as they stood on the porch and surveyed the garbage on the lawn. “I can’t say I’m sorry to be rid of that.”
Jane grinned. Her whole body ached, and it had never felt so satisfying. So much more than an old chair had gone out the door.
An older woman with a small black dog on a leash made her way down the street. The woman and the dog wore matching Christmas sweaters, and as the woman came to a stop on the sidewalk in front of Mom’s house, Jane registered who she was. Mrs. Swanson. Her face displayed that same pinched, critical expression that she’d had at Ford’s General Store that first night Jane had come home. But this time, she directed her disapproval in Mom’s direction.
“My goodness, Diane. What happened here?” She wrinkled her nose at the pile of cushions, fabric, and splintered wood.
Mom shrugged. “Oh, we were just getting rid of some old furniture.”
“Was that the chief’s chair?” Of course Mrs. Swanson knew it was Dad’s chair. She liked to stop by each house to personally ask for money for the church fundraiser. It was harder to say no when someone was sitting in your living room. Plus, then she could peek around people’s houses and get her fill of gossip.
“Sure was,” Jane called over the porch railing. “But it’s garbage now.”
Mrs. Swanson sucked in an audible breath through her nose, her eyes bugging as she surveyed the mess. “I assume this was your idea, Jane? It’s disrespectful to treat your father’s favorite possessions like garbage, don’t you think?”
Jane remembered her guitar crashing down the stairs after her. The body had probably cracked, the neck snapped, the strings broken. Not that she’d ever gotten to open the case and confirm it. Dad had said he was going to burn it, and since Jane hadn’t found it anywhere in the house, she could only assume he had.
“I think this chair and my father have gotten all the respect they deserve.”
Mrs. Swanson’s mouth dropped open, but before she could say a word, Jane spun on her heel and swung open the front door.
“Well, I hope you plan to clean this up!” the older woman called as Jane ushered Scarlett inside and stepped in behind her.
Mom gave a wave toward the lawn. “Nice to see you, Mrs. Swanson.” And then she followed Jane inside and slammed the door behind her.
Jane’s phone rang, and she ran to answer it, hoping it wasn’t Matteo again.
It was an unfamiliar number with a Western New York area code. Maybe it was Kait coming through with her car. But the possibility that her ticket out might be on the other end of the phone didn’t spark the same joy Jane had expected. In fact, it filled her with a different kind of dread. So when Jane answered and found Hannah on the other end, she sighed with relief .
“I hope it’s okay I called,” her old friend said. “I texted your mom for your number.”
“Of course it is.”
“I wondered what you’re up to today. Would you and Scarlett like to come over? We’ve had so much snow lately, the girls can play outside. And we can chat some more. I’ve missed you.”
Jane looked over at Scarlett, who was sitting on the floor near where the recliner used to be, building her Lego house. Jane was tired of seeing her daughter playing all alone, tired of refusing to allow Scarlett to make friends, tired of being afraid all the time.
“We’d love to come.”
When Jane opened her car door in Hannah’s driveway, she was immediately hit by the sound of shrieking and laughter coming from somewhere in the vicinity of the backyard. She and Scarlett peeked around the side of the house and found at least half a dozen children on colorful saucers and sleds, gliding down the long slope that ended in the neighbor’s backyard.
Scarlett looked up at Jane with shining eyes. “Am I allowed to go play with them?”
Jane’s heart squeezed. There was no going alone to do anything in downtown LA, let alone play with other children. It wasn’t safe. But here—her gaze swept over the backyards lined up in a neat row, dotted with swing sets and snow forts and the tracks of children moving effortlessly from one yard to the next—here Scarlett would be more than safe.
A woman stood on the back porch of a neighboring house, helping her child into his mittens before sending him off with the other kids. She spotted Jane and gave a wave. Jane waved back.
“Just be careful of your arm,” Jane said, adjusting her own daughter’s mittens. “No sledding this time. But you can build a snowman, okay?”
Scarlett nodded eagerly, and Jane had the feeling that she would have agreed to anything.
With one more glance at her daughter, Jane headed back around to the front of Hannah’s house. There were two cars in the driveway, so Jane assumed that in addition to Hannah, she’d see Ed when she got inside. But when the door swung open, she found Ali on the threshold.
“Ali,” she said, surprised. They’d talked last night at dinner and Ali had been perfectly nice. Friendly, even. But that was with everyone sitting around the table. Was her old friend still mad at her?
Ali cocked her head. “Well, come in then.”
Jane stamped her boots and stepped inside. “I’m glad you’re here.”
“Yeah?” Ali gave her a crooked smile. “Me, too.”
They made their way back to the kitchen where they found Hannah arranging some of Mrs. Andino’s leftover Christmas cookies on a plate and pouring hot water into mugs. She set down the kettle and ran over to give Jane a hug. “I’m so glad you could make it.” She hitched her chin out the kitchen window. “The girls seem like they’re having fun already.”
Through the glass, Jane spotted a group of kids at work constructing a giant snowball. Scarlett blended right in with the others in her winter coat and hat, hauling handfuls of snow to the pile and patting it into place. Jane turned back to the room and gave her old friend a smile.
Hannah’s kitchen was just like her: warm, inviting, a little bit disheveled. Soon Jane was seated at the island with a cup of tea and a plate of cookies in front of her. They talked about Hannah’s teaching job and Ali’s work at the gallery, and then about Ed and Lexi and married life .
“So, Jane,” Hannah said, refilling her mug with tea, “I don’t even know what you do for work.”
Jane opened her mouth to say she was a server, but she didn’t want to talk about Matteo or the club. And she didn’t want to keep lying. “I’m kind of between careers right now. I guess you could say that my job is to be a single mother to Scarlett.”
“Single mother?” Ali took a sip of her tea. “So, Scarlett’s dad is?—”
“Out of the picture,” Jane said, quickly.
Hannah slid onto a stool, propping her chin on her hand. “That’s a lot to deal with.”
“Believe me, it’s for the best.”
Hannah’s face creased with sympathy. “Well, then, I’m glad he’s out of the picture.”
“Do you still play music?” Ali asked. “We all heard you headed out to LA to make it in the music business.”
Jane wished she could at least say she’d tried. But somehow it didn’t hurt like it used to. She’d been in a terrible position, and she’d done what she needed to survive. She’d done what she needed to do to care for her child. Jane peeked over Hannah’s shoulder, out the kitchen window, and saw Scarlett and another little girl from the neighborhood laughing in a pile of snow. Maybe Jane didn’t have a lot to show for a career, or any of her life in LA, but despite everything they’d been through, her daughter was going to be okay.
Jane’s hand slid to her cheek. The bruise was almost completely gone now. Anyone would have to squint to spot the last yellowing remains near the corner of her eye. But inside her, the pain remained. The bruises buried, hidden, secret. She’d been so isolated and alone for so damn long. Matteo had made sure of it.
If she moved to Canada, it would be more of the same. She’d still be alone, still looking over her shoulder, still tensing up every time she heard a car outside or a knock at the front door. Jane regarded her old friends across the island. They had been everything to her. What if she’d told them the truth back then?
What if she told them now?
“I ran away to LA to get away from my dad,” Jane said, quietly. “He was abusive.”
Hannah gasped and Ali’s eyes went wide.
“Oh, Jane.” Hannah’s voice shook. “That’s awful.”
“I knew your dad could be kind of strict.” Ali’s face clouded over. “We were all afraid of him. But we had no idea he was…”
“It wasn’t physical at first.” Jane stared into her mug of tea. “At least not with me. Though the way he treated my mom was a different story. He was mean, and I was terrified of him. But then—that day before I left… that day, he got violent.” It felt so good to say it. To admit it. To stop being the only one holding this secret.
Ali cursed under her breath.
“I—well, I won’t get into the details. But it was bad. And I packed a bag and took off,” Jane said.
“Why didn’t you tell us?” Hannah’s eyes filled with tears. “We would have been there for you. You had to know that, right?”
“I was afraid. He was the police chief. I didn’t think anyone could help.” Jane looked down at her hands. “So, I ran away.”
“Jane, I’m so sorry we weren’t there for you then. But”—Ali slid off her stool and rounded the counter to stand in front of Jane—“I hope you know that we’re here for you now. If there’s anything you ever need…” She reached out and brushed a hand against the fading bruise on Jane’s cheek.
Hannah nodded. “Things aren’t the same as they were back then. Ed is on the police force. They arrest abusers now. They can’t get away with it.”
Jane looked at her old friends. Maybe she couldn’t have leaned on them back then, but they weren’t kids anymore. And maybe she wasn’t alone anymore.
“Did Nik know about your dad? What happened that night?” Ali asked.
Jane shook her head. “He didn’t know back then. But now he does.” She glanced out at Scarlett playing in the yard. Jane studied her daughter’s face, looking for signs of Nik’s features. Maybe Nik didn’t know everything . But hopefully soon she’d have more answers.
Hannah’s face softened. “He loves you, you know. He always did.”
Last night in the kitchen came back to her again. Nik’s mouth against her, his hand hot against her skin. She loved him, too. She always had.
The sound of laughter drifted in through the window, and Jane realized the sun would be setting soon. “I should probably get Scarlett home for dinner. She’s going to be starving. She’s never played so hard in her life.”
Hannah peeked out the window. “They’re having so much fun. Why don’t you let her stay? She can have a slumber party with Amelia, and we’ll order a pizza.”
Jane considered it. Slumber parties were another experience Scarlett had never gotten to have. There was nobody Jane would have trusted to keep Scarlett overnight. And Matteo wouldn’t have allowed it anyway. But Jane knew she could trust Hannah with her life.
“If you’re sure?” Jane asked.
Hannah nodded. “Go and enjoy your night off. I’ll bring her back tomorrow.”
Jane said goodbye to her friends and waded out into the snow to call Scarlett over. Scarlett’s shoulders slumped as she slowly dragged a snow shovel across the backyard. “Do we have to go, Mommy? All the other kids are staying for another hour.”
“Actually,” Jane said with a grin, enjoying being the bearer of good news for once, “you can stay. Hannah invited you to sleep over with Amelia. Would you like that?”
The happiness on her daughter’s face filled Jane’s heart. Scarlett deserved to be a regular kid, without fear, without constantly running away.
Jane got in the car, but instead of heading home she turned left at the sign for Sand Hill Lane. Nik’s mother had said that Nik had a place there. It was a winding country road, just outside of town, with large sections of woods between properties. Jane slowed as she passed each driveway, checking out the cars parked there, the houses nestled between the trees. A couple of miles down the road, she spotted a gray sedan parked in a driveway. The car looked to be the same make and model as the one she rode in with Nik a few days earlier, and the one parked at Mrs. Andino’s house at Christmas.
Jane took a chance, pulled into the driveway, and climbed out of her car.
The house was more of a small cabin made of long wooden planks stained a deep caramel color. A wide front porch stretched across the front, furnished with red-painted Adirondack chairs. She heard a rustling sound and spotted Nik emerging from around the back of the house in a flannel jacket and hiking boots, carrying a stack of logs.
He stopped on the driveway and blinked. “Jane. I didn’t expect to see you here.”
“I was—uh.” She gave him a sideways smile. “I was in the neighborhood?”
Snow swirled around them, landing on his shoulders and making his dark hair shimmer like a halo. He grinned back. “Well, come in then.”