Heroes are My Weakness (38 page)

Annie waded through the thigh-high water as Scamp began to sing.

“I was sitting in a dark cave

High on a ledge.

Hiding away

Not wanting to stay—ay—ay.”

She was so cold, she was losing feeling in her legs.

“When along came a nice spider

And sat down beside her

And said . . .

Holy cow! What’s a nice spider like me doing in a dark cave like this?”

She rounded the edge of a protruding rock and glimpsed a blessed blur of pink huddled on the ledge. She wanted to charge forward and grab her. Instead she ducked back out of sight and aimed the flashlight down into the dark water.

“Annie,” Scamp said, “I’m still scared. I need to see Livia right now. Livia will make me feel better.”

“I understand, Scamp,” Annie said, “but . . . I can’t find her anywhere.”

“You have to! I need to talk to a kid, not a grown-up! I need Livia!” Scamp grew increasingly upset. “She’s my friend, and friends help each other when they’re scared.” Scamp started to cry in pathetic little sniffles. “Why won’t she tell me where she is?”

A wave hit Annie’s thighs, and the cave ceiling dripped icy fingers down her spine.

Scamp began crying harder, her sniffles growing more pronounced. Until three soft, sweet words drifted over the water . . .

“I’m right here.”

Chapter Twenty-one

A
NNIE HAD NEVER HEARD ANYTHING
as beautiful as those faint, hesitant words.
I’m right here.
She couldn’t spoil this . . .

“Livia,” Scamp whispered. “Is that really you?”

“Uh-huh.”

“I thought I was alone, with only Annie.”

“I’m here, too.” Livia’s newfound voice had a rusty little rasp from lack of use.

“That makes me feel better.” Scamp sniffed. “Are you scared?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Me, too. I’m glad I’m not the only one.”

“You’re not.” She couldn’t fully form her
r
sounds, and they came out more as
w
’s, the sound substitution so sweet it constricted Annie’s heart.

“Do you want to stay here longer, or are you ready to leave?” Scamp asked.

A long pause. “I don’t know.”

Annie reined in her apprehension and made herself wait. Long seconds ticked by.

“Scamp?” Livia finally said. “Are you still there?”

“I’m thinking,” Scamp said. “And I think you need to talk this over with a grown-up. Is it okay if I send Annie to find you?”

Annie waited, afraid she’d pushed too far. But Livia responded with a quiet “Okay.”

“Annie!” Scamp called out. “Come over here, please. Livia needs to talk to you. Livia, I’m very cold, and I’m going to get some hot chocolate. And a dill pickle. I’ll meet you later.”

Annie waded around the rock, praying that her appearance wouldn’t make Livia mute again. Livia still had her knees pulled to her chest. Her head was down, her hair hiding her face.

Annie wasn’t sure if Jaycie could hear that Livia was safe, but she was afraid to call out for fear of sending Livia spiraling backward. “Hey, goofball,” she said.

Livia finally lifted her head.

What had driven a child who was afraid of the dark to come in here? Only something deeply traumatic. Yet when Annie had found her on the beach, Livia had been more petulant than traumatized. Something had to have happened after that, but other than Theo appearing—

Right then Annie understood.

Even though her teeth were chattering, and the ledge was too shallow for any kind of comfort, she hoisted herself up. Wedging in as best she could, she wrapped her arm around the child. Livia smelled of musty ocean, little girl sweat, and shampoo. “Did you know that Scamp is mad at me?” Annie asked.

Livia shook her head.

Annie waited, ignoring the blade of rock digging into her shoulder, holding Livia close, but not explaining.

Finally, Livia’s jaw moved against Annie’s arm. “What’d you do?”

That voice! That dear little voice. “Scamp said you came in here because you heard Theo and me arguing. That’s why she’s mad at me. Because we argued in front of you, and arguments between grown-ups scare you.”

A barely imperceptible nod against her shoulder.

“It’s because of the bad way your dad used to hurt your mommy and because of how your dad died.” Annie made the pronouncement as matter-of-factly as she could.

“It scared me.” A heartbreaking sniffle.

“Sure it did. It would have scared me, too. Scamp told me I should have explained to you that just because grown-ups argue doesn’t always mean something bad will happen. Like when Theo and I argue. We like to argue. But we’d never hurt each other.”

Livia cocked her head at Annie, taking that in.

Annie could have lifted her down and waded out with her, but she hesitated. What else could she say to undo the damage? She traced her thumb along Livia’s cheek. “Sometimes people argue. Kids and grown-ups. For instance, your mommy and I had an argument today. It was my fault, and I’m going to tell her I’m sorry.”

“You and Mommy?” Livia said.

“I was confused about something. But here’s the thing, Livia. If you get scared every time you hear somebody argue, you’ll be scared a lot, and none of us want you to feel like that.”

“But Theo’s voice was really loud.”

“Mine, too. I was very mad at him.”

“You could shoot him with a gun,” Livia said, trying to sort out a situation that was too complicated for her.

“Oh, no, I would never do that.” Annie tried to find another way. Hesitated. “Can I have a free secret?”

“Uh-huh.”

Annie rested her cheek against the top of Livia’s head. “I love Theo,” she whispered. “And I could never love anybody who tried to hurt me. But that doesn’t mean I can’t get mad at him.”

“You love Theo?”

“It’s my free secret, remember?”

“I remember.” The sweet sound of her breathing hummed in Annie’s ears. She wiggled. “Can I have a free secret?”

“Sure.” Annie braced herself, afraid of what was coming next.

Livia turned her head to gaze up at Annie. “I didn’t like Scamp’s song.”

Annie laughed and kissed her forehead. “We won’t tell her.”

T
HE JOYOUS REUNION BETWEEN MOTHER
and child would have brought Annie to tears if she hadn’t been so cold. Theo drew her into a weak patch of sunlight and examined her wounds. She stood before him dressed only in her orange camisole and white panties, her wet wool socks collapsed in origami folds around her ankles. After she’d pushed Livia through the crevice into Theo’s arms, she’d discovered that her sodden jeans had picked up just enough extra bulk to keep her from squeezing through, and she’d had to take them off.

Theo checked the long scratch running down her abdomen, joining her other cuts and bruises. His right hand curved around her buttocks to keep her from pulling away, not that she wanted to. “You’re all cut up.” He pulled off his parka and wrapped her in it. “I swear to God I’m ten years older than I was when you went in there.” He pulled her against his chest, a place Annie was more than happy to rest.

Jaycie’s gratitude had made her forget her anger at Annie, and she finally wrenched her gaze away from Livia long enough to say, “I can never thank you enough.”

Annie tried unsuccessfully to stop her teeth from chattering. “You may not want to . . . after you hear why Livia . . . went in the cave.” She reluctantly drew away from the comfort of Theo’s chest and moved a few steps closer to Jaycie and Livia, but he came up behind her.

“You can talk to Jaycie later,” he said. “Right now, you need to get warmed up.”

“I will in a minute.” Jaycie was sitting in the shelter of a boulder with Livia curled in her lap, Annie’s coat draping them both. Annie looked at Livia. “Liv, I’m afraid I’ll say it wrong, so you’d better explain to your mom.”

Jaycie hadn’t overheard her daughter speak, and she was visibly confused. Livia turned her face into her mother’s chest.

“It’s okay,” Annie said. “You can tell her.” But would she? Now that they’d left the cave behind, had Livia lost her need to speak? Annie drew the parka tighter around her and waited, hoped, prayed . . .

The words that finally emerged were muffled, spoken against her mother’s breast. “I was scared.”

Jaycie gasped. Cupping her daughter’s cheeks, she turned her small face up and gazed into her eyes with wonder. “Liv . . .”

“ ’Cause Annie and Theo was fighting,” Livia said. “It made me scared.”

Theo’s curse was no less heartfelt for being whispered.

“Oh, my God . . .” Jaycie pulled Livia to her again in a fierce embrace.

The tears of joy that filled Jaycie’s eyes made Annie suspect she hadn’t taken in the content of Livia’s words, only the miracle of her daughter’s voice. Now, while emotions were high, was the time to rip off the bandage of secrecy that Jaycie had plastered over the past and open the scab that had grown there.

Annie drew courage from the way Theo’s body settled protectively against her spine. “You might not know this, Jaycie, but hearing grown-ups argue reminds Livia of what happened with you and her father.”

Jaycie’s joy dissolved. Her mouth twisted in pain, but Annie pressed on. “When she heard Theo and me arguing, she was afraid I might try to shoot him, so she went in the cave to hide.”

Theo spoke vehemently. “Livia, Annie would never do that.”

Jaycie slipped one hand over her daughter’s ear, symbolically sealing it off. The tightness around her mouth testified that the gratitude she’d been feeling toward Annie was fading. “We don’t have to talk about that.”

“Livia needs to talk,” Annie stated gently.

“Listen to Annie,” Theo said, in a remarkable leap of faith. “She understands things.”

Livia shook her head, the gesture automatic. Theo squeezed Annie’s shoulders from behind. His encouragement meant everything. “Livia and Scamp and I have been talking about how her father scared her,” Annie said, “and how you shot him, even though you didn’t mean to.” The cold had numbed her brain to caution. “Livia might even be a little glad you shot her father—I know Scamp is glad—and Livia needs to talk to you about that, too.”

“Scamp?” Jaycie said.

“Scamp is a kid, too,” Annie said, “so she understands things about Livia that grown-ups sometimes miss.”

Jaycie was now more bewildered than angry. She searched her daughter’s face, trying to understand, not able to. Her helplessness reminded Annie that Jaycie was as deeply wounded as Livia.

With no psychotherapist handy, a failed character actress trained in her theater workshops to understand human behavior would have to do. Annie let her spine rest ever so slightly against Theo’s chest, not using him as a crutch, merely as comfort. “Scamp would like to understand some things, too,” she said. “Maybe she could sit down with both of you tomorrow, and we could all talk about what happened.” Annie remembered that her “tomorrows” on Peregrine Island were numbered.

“Yes, I wanna see Scamp!” Livia displayed all the enthusiasm her mother lacked.

“A great idea,” Theo said. “Now I think it’s time for everybody to get warmed up.”

Livia had recovered more rapidly than the adults, and she climbed off her mother’s lap. “Will you show me the shells you got for my fairy house?” she asked Theo.

“Yep. But I have to take care of Annie first.” He tilted his head toward the top of the cliff. “Want a ride?”

Livia ended up on his shoulders as they climbed the cliff steps to the top.

O
NCE
A
NNIE AND
T
HEO WERE
back at the cottage, he filled the tub that was no longer hers and left her alone. She had cuts everywhere, and she winced as she settled into the water, but by the time she got out and slipped into her robe, she was warm. Theo had changed into dry clothes himself—a pair of jeans with a rip across one knee and a long-sleeved black T-shirt he’d stopped wearing because Jaycie had shrunk it in the wash so it outlined every muscle in his chest in a way he didn’t like, but that Annie very much appreciated. He patched up her cuts, everything about his touch impersonal. In the space of a day, so much had changed. She’d lost the cottage, accused an innocent woman of trying to harm her, discovered her roots, and helped rescue a little girl. Overriding it all, she’d recognized how much she loved this man she couldn’t have.

He made grilled cheese sandwiches for them. As he dropped a big pat of butter into the hot skillet, a clock pendulum ticked away in her head marking the time she had left to be with him. “I called Elliott,” he said. “As soon as I heard that you’d been conned into leaving the island.”

She tugged the sash of her bathrobe tighter. “Let me guess. Cynthia already knew—thanks to Lisa McKinley—and they were having cocktails to celebrate.”

“Right on one count. Wrong on the other. Lisa had called, but there was no celebration.”

“Really? I’m surprised Cynthia wasn’t already drawing up plans to turn the cottage into a replica of Stonehenge.”

“I intended to make him change his mind. Threaten him. Do whatever I could to make sure you kept the cottage for as long as you wanted. But as it turned out, Elliott had made a modification none of us knew about.”

“What kind of modification?”

“The cottage doesn’t revert back to the family.” He abandoned the sandwiches to look at her. “It goes to the Peregrine Island trust.”

She stared at him stupidly. “I don’t understand.”

He turned back and flipped the sandwiches into the sizzling butter with unnecessary force. “The bottom line is, you’ve lost the cottage, and I’m sorrier about that than you can imagine.”

“But why did he change it?”

“I didn’t get the details—Cynthia was in the room—but he wasn’t exactly happy with what she did to Harp House. My guess is that he wanted to make sure the cottage stayed as it was, so rather than stand up to her, he went to his lawyer behind her back and made the change.”