Chapter Two
Hollie
Mrs Matilda Huxley is eighty-eight years old and likes spicy romance novels. This latest one is kind of ridiculous, but I like the way there’s always a knowing smile on her face whenever I read to her, as though she’s remembering times gone by, when her life had more vibrancy and color.
‘The next day,’ I read from the dog-eared book that’s propped up against my knees, which are drawn up toward my chest in the armchair in her room at Sunset Pines, ‘Rhett and Sarra rode out together from the ranch, across the prairie and looked out across their lands. And when Sarra looked at Rhett, she saw her future in his eyes. Their lives were entwined now, forever, and happiness was theirs, at long last.’
I glance up at Mrs Huxley and I swear I see tears in her eyes. ‘The end,’ I add softly, and close the book.
‘Oh honey,’ Mrs Huxley sighs from her bed, propped up with pillows. She searches my face. ‘You look like you didn’t enjoy it?’
I smile. ‘That’s not the point. Did you enjoy it?’
‘Well, firstly, I love how you read to me,’ she sighs in her tender Texan drawl. ‘You sound like the Queen of England. I’ll never tire of the sound of your voice, Hollie. But honestly, I preferred that last cowboy one we read. I liked that… what was his name again?’
‘Coyote Maverick,’ I laugh with a roll of my eyes, referring to the main character of the last romance novel we read twice in a row, who didn’t seem to own a shirt, the amount of time he spent strutting around with his rippling muscles on show.
‘Plus, this one didn’t have nearly enough spicy times,’ she whispers and I giggle.
‘This was a little cheesy,’ I say, holding up the book to her. ‘The ending was just a little too perfect, don’t you think?’
‘You don’t like a happy ending?’
‘This is book love, not love IRL.’
She tilts her head and looks like she didn’t hear me. ‘IRL? What’s that again?’
‘In real life,’ I repeat, only louder this time.
She waves her hand dismissively. ‘Well, you young people. You need to get off them whatcha-call-ems, dating apps. Go out to a bar and let a man come over and talk to you. My Robert… I still remember the first time I saw him. I mean, it was at church, but that was how we did things back then. He came right on over to talk to me, eyes twinklin’ and, oh honey, I never looked back. ’
A silence settles over the room. I glance over at the windowsill, at the picture of Mrs Huxley and her husband, who died ten years ago, taken on their wedding day, when Mrs Huxley was twenty-three years old, the same age I am now.
I’ve heard so much about him that a strange kind of sadness cloaks my insides.
‘Can I get you anything else, Mrs Huxley?’ I ask, getting out of my chair and smoothing down my pink candy striper volunteer’s uniform.
‘No, no, honey, I’m good, thank you. Think I’ll turn in.’
I’m helping her get settled in the bed when, without warning, blue lights fill the room. A single siren blasts out.
‘Oh, lord, what is going on now?’ Mrs Huxley says. ‘Don’t they know the residents are trying to get some shuteye around here?’
I peek out of the drapes. In the darkness, there are a couple of police patrol cars parked outside Sunset Pines. ‘I’m sure it’s nothing,’ I say, letting go of the drapes and filling Mrs Huxley’s water glass from the jug. ‘Don’t worry yourself. I’ll go see what’s going on.’
When I leave Mrs Huxley, I walk back down the corridor, placing the romance novel back on a shelf for returning to the library.
My body aches. I’ve been here since the early morning.
Outside the building, I hear a helicopter swooping overhead.
In the reception area, one police officer is talking to Tawny, the manager of Sunset Pines Nursing Home.
The other officer is showing a group of other nurses a picture on a phone.
One of the nurses beckons me over. ‘Hollie, you ain’t seen this kid anywhere around here, have you?’
The officer holds up the phone for me to see. I squint at the photo of an adolescent boy with slightly dishevelled hair, then shake my head. ‘No, never. Should I have done?’
‘He’s a suspect in a car theft, ma’am,’ the officer says to me stoically. ‘Evaded arrest tonight not far from here and is now on the run.’
‘What’s his name?’ I ask.
‘Noah Brady. If you see him, please, call it in.’
Instinctively, I prickle at the name. Hearing ‘Noah’ brings back a squall of memories, but I nod my head, just like the other nurses who go about their duties.
Through the windows of the main seating area, I can see other officers outside the windows, searching the flower beds, their flashlights flitting across the walls.
They will ruin what’s left of the poor excuse for a yard that we have here.
I turn my attention to Tawny, who is looking stressed.
‘Last thing I goddamn need,’ she mutters under her breath as the officers file out of the building. ‘The residents will be complaining about this for weeks.’
‘What will they complain about?’ I ask.
‘You know. Flashlights shining through their windows. That chopper overhead. I’ve got enough goin’ on. Lashawna’s sick, I’m two nurses down…’
I’m only a candy striper but I like to pitch in where I can. ‘Give me something to do,’ I say cheerfully.
‘Are you sure? Ain’t it time you were headed on home?’
I give a shrug. ‘I don’t mind.’
Tawny looks at me guiltily. ‘I got a ton of trash bags waiting out back…’
‘Consider it done,’ I say.
‘You’re an angel!’ she shouts after me as I wander off toward the kitchen.
At the far end of the building, punching in the security code for the kitchen doors, I let myself in.
The lights are all off. I locate the different colored sacks at the rear, next to the double doors that lead to the alleyway at the side of the nursing home.
Punching in a second security code, I move all the bags outside, before transferring them to the area where three large dumpsters are lined up in a row.
It’s only when I’m hoisting the last of the bags into the dumpster for recycling that I see the edge of a shoe, just touching the light, poking out from one side of the dumpster.
I look down and freeze. The helicopter overhead has moved on, but I can still hear it whirring in the distance. Further away, police officers are still searching the front yard.
I close the lid and take a tentative step back. I lean my head to one side, and that’s when I see him.
He’s sitting crouched down, his back against the wall between two dumpsters, his face partially covered by shadow, hugging his bent knees.
There’s a nasty cut above his left eye that’s still leaking blood, as well as one on his swollen upper lip.
His cheeks are smeared with dirt and tiny cuts, like he ran through a bush just to get here.
His T-shirt has frayed edges, and there’s a hole at the knee of his already ripped jeans. He’s trembling.
He’s the boy from the photograph the police showed me. And he’s here. Out with the garbage.
‘Are you Noah?’ I whisper.
Tears leak down his face. He gives me a single nod.
My chest rises and falls. He’s young. Frightened. ‘They’re looking for you.’
He nods for a second time. ‘Please,’ he says, his voice strained, and my heart goes out to him. ‘Please, ma’am, don’t turn me in.’
‘You need to go.’
‘Go where?’ he pleads. ‘Right now, they’re crawling everywhere.’
I don’t know what to say. I’ve never been a rulebreaker. If anything, I’m the ultimate good girl. I panic and look left to right. ‘Look, I’ll pretend I didn’t see you, all right? But you need to go. You can’t stay here.’
He nods his head again frantically. ‘You got any food?’ he asks. ‘I’m starved.’
His words make my chest ache. I know that, behind me in the kitchen, is a well-stocked fruit bowl and boxes of breakfast cereals in the cupboards. Yet I can’t bring myself to steal from the nursing home that’s allowed me to volunteer for the last year. That wouldn’t be right.
I stand there, panicking inwardly, my body tense.
I don’t know what possesses me. Why I think I can help him.
Maybe it’s because his name is Noah, and that name means something to me.
Maybe it’s because volunteering here inherently makes me want to help people.
He doesn’t look like a bad person. He’s just a kid.
I lower my chin. ‘Stay here, all right,’ I whisper, my heart making a decision that my head hasn’t yet caught up with. ‘I won’t be long.’
‘Will you bring me something?’ his strained whisper emerges from the darkness and I turn. ‘Something to eat?’
I shush him. At the front of the nursing home, I can hear a male voice crackling over the police radio. ‘We got nothing,’ it says. ‘Suspect still at large.’
‘Crap,’ I mutter, my brain catching up. ‘I’ll be back,’ I whisper again and make my way back into the kitchen. I close the doors behind me and head back around to the break room, not before taking an apple from the fruit bowl.
I take the key from my pocket and open my locker, removing my bag and the clothes I arrived in. I get changed out of my pink candy striper uniform and, once I’m back in my own clothes, place it all in the laundry basket. Then I leave the key in the locker for the next person to use.
‘Bins are all out,’ I say to Tawny, back in reception. I realize what I’ve said, then turn on my heel and wince. ‘Sorry, I meant trash.’
‘Thanks, honey,’ she says. ‘I like the way you say it.’ She winks at me, then puts on her best British accent. ‘The bins,’ she says with a little shake of her head, then descends into giggles. ‘Thanks for your help today, Hollie. As always.’
I give her a big grin, yet my stomach is in knots. ‘You’re welcome.’
‘Goodnight.’
In the parking lot, I check no one is around, then follow the outside wall, finding myself back at the dumpsters. Noah is where I left him. He jumps when he sees me, as though he’s expecting to be handcuffed.
‘It’s all right,’ I whisper, then hold out the apple.