Shattered Castles 1 : Castles on the Sand (29 page)

A
lex shows up right at five thirty and gives Siraj a wary look as he strolls up to the circulation desk. My boss only nods in his direction, though. “Madison, please don't do anything rash.” To Alex's curious gaze, he says nothing.

I say goodbye to him and walk out with Alex.

“What's going on?” he asks, the moment the door swings shut behind us.

“Nothing. I just need to go talk to some people tonight.”

“Who?”

“I'm going over to Kirsten's house and then the Beales'. It's nothing, really. Just helping them with family stuff.”

He takes me by both shoulders, looks me in the eye, and raises an eyebrow.

“Okay, fine. Mr. Beale's been a jerk, but I can handle it-”

“Tell me everything.”

I try to hide a smile.

“What?”

“You remind me of my brother. In a good way.”

“He look out for you too?”

“Yeah, whether I want him to or not.”

“So you going to tell me what's going on?”

I lay it out for him, the whole situation, how the Beales want to run me out of town, and how I don't want them to win.

Alex's expression gets more and more grave as I tell the story.

“I'll handle this,” I say.

“Listen, not to put you down, but why do I think you might just try to give everyone a hug and fix matters that way?”

“It wasn't exactly what I planned.”

“I'm coming with you.”

“You don't have to-”

“I'm coming okay?”

“Fine,” I say, “but no rocks. No smashing things.”

This earns me a kiss, in public, where anyone can see.

K
irsten gives Alex a nervous look when she opens her front door. “Can I help you?”

I speak up before he can. “Come with me to see your parents.”

“Are you nuts?”

“Please.”

“You know my dad will just run me off the property with a shotgun, right?”

“Maybe. Maybe not. You heard about what happened with Kailie?”

She leans against the doorframe as if that sentence just sapped away all her energy. “I know you found her and she's in the hospital.”

“CPS is involved now,” says Alex.

I expect Kirsten to look confused at the abbreviation, but instead she looks up. “What? Why?”

“They think your parents endangered or neglected her or both.”

“Well, I can answer that...”

“Listen,” I say, “your dad's trying to make my mom and I leave town.”

“So what's your plan here, Madison? My dad told me that he never wanted to see me again. He looks away if I pass him in the street. You think I can talk him out of bullying you?”

“I'm um, going to try to invoke a higher authority.”

“What? Report him to the state? Or the fed? What?”

I don't dare say it aloud. It sounds too stupid, but I want to believe that it could work and I have to try. “Please?” I beg.

“Can your father resist blue eyes like those?” says Alex.

“Yes,” says Kirsten, “but I'll come with you. You saved my sister's life. I guess I owe you one.”

T
he three of us plus Kirsten's daughter, whom she carries on her hip, arrive at the Inn ten minutes later. I know it's the Beales' dinner time, which is why I also know they'll both be in the house. I knock and ring the doorbell three times before I get an answer – I also know they have a habit of not allowing interruptions at dinner.

Mr. Beale jerks the door open and stares out at us. “What do you want?”

I take a deep breath. Do this, I think. “Let us in.”

He looks me over for a moment, then steps back and lets us past him, into the living room which has its furniture set up again, but is still missing most of its floor. Kirsten gives him a wide berth and turns to keep her child as far from him as possible. Alex looks him straight in the eye and Mr. Beale glares right back, so my first order of business, once we're all inside, is to step between Alex and Mr. Beale. I don't bother to sit down. I'd lose my nerve if I did. Kirsten goes by the window, bouncing her daughter gently.

I point at the cross stitch of the Bible verses on the wall and will my hand not to shake. “I've always wondered about that, so I looked it up today.”

Mr. Beale folds his arms across his chest.

“It's weird, because in that story, the father of the prodigal son is all happy when the son comes back. He was even standing out, watching and waiting for his son to return. Kirsten's here, and you don't seem to even care.”

“Has she come to beg forgiveness?” asks Mr. Beale.

“Hmm,” I say, “interesting. You read that parable lately? The son doesn't just ask for forgiveness. He asks for a job. A really low paid job. But clearly the forgiveness part is what you care about, not employing your daughter to help her pay the bills.”

“Kirsten's never asked us for a job,” says Mr. Beale.

“The son in the story asks for a job because he remembers his father as a good and just man who treats people well, so he'd rather be a lowly worker in his father's house than out in the world. See, the story is about a child learning the hard way that his father is a good man and that he was lucky to have such a parent.” My courage starts to give, I feel it shift like sand being eaten away by the tide. “I think the moral of the story is, you don't get that ending unless you play your part.”

“Well, thank you for that,” says Mr. Beale, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

And my anger flares up, and with it, a second wave of confidence. “Listen, who are you to think you deserve any great blessings or whatever? Because that's why you have that on your wall, isn't it? It's because you think that story is about how no matter what you do to your daughters, it's their fault and they'll someday come to you and say, 'Gee, you were right, Dad. We're sooo sorry.' And you're going to cling to that belief even when trained professionals say that you need to re-evaluate your parenting style.”

“I think that's enough,” he says.

“Oh yeah? Well I don't care. Your
thoughts
aren't what I care about. I'm not here because you think I should be. I'm here because I
know
you're making a mistake, and you can pick on me all you want. You can drive me and my mom out of this town. I don't care. I am not your problem.
You
are. Even when I'm gone, your problems will still be here. Your daughter will still be in foster care and you'll keep doing the same stupid thing that put her there in the first place, too blinded by your own pride to catch a clue and grow up.”

Alex's hand clasps my shoulder and Kirsten looks at me, agape.

I take a few deep breaths, but don't even try to calm myself down. My rage is the only thing between me and tears right now. Still, I do my best to keep my voice steady. “You are literally, one second away from a smile from your granddaughter if you'd just swallow your stupid pride and ask your daughter for forgiveness, because has it ever occurred to you,
you're
the prodigal son?
You're
the person who decided to live his life one way and took the consequences? You may have a nice home and money and all that, but when it comes to your family you might as well be sleeping in a pigsty, that's the kind of mess you made. Your daughters are the ones watching and waiting, ready to forgive you if you just ask.”

Kirsten looks to the wall and I wonder if I spoke out of turn. Well, I know I spoke out of turn, but I wonder if she'll undermine me by just storming out.

I take another deep breath. “The state is also willing to help you if you are humble enough to
ask
. But if you keep acting like a bully, you'll lose it all. Completely. What's the point of having all this if you've got no one to share it with? If your daughters don't even call and you never know your grandchildren?”

Mr. Beale's jaw is set, and his face is turning a deep shade of red. He's about to explode with fury.

Behind me, I hear Alex shift his weight. I turn to see him pulling something out of his back pocket, but I grasp his hand to stop him and feel the rectangle shape of what I know is a metal business card holder between his fingers. “No,” I mouth. When he doesn't stop trying to open it I say in a low voice, “I know what you're trying to do, but this isn't your fight.”

“It isn't yours either,” he whispers.

“I'm way closer to this than your grandfather ever was. But thank you.”

“I think it's time you left,” says Mr. Beale. And that's that. My last charge into the proverbial fortress has ended with me smacking into a stone wall. So much for thinking that the words of the Christian God would have any effect. It was stupid of me to even try. Desperate, really.

Alex tries to pry his business card holder out of my hand. I take it from him and hug it to my chest, confident that he won't reach there. We've only been dating for a few hours, after all. I need to find a way to retreat without looking like an idiot. My mind comes up blank there.

“Let's go,” I say to Kirsten. “Sorry I-”

“Kirsten, wait,” says Mrs. Beale. She steps into the room. I gather that she's eavesdropped from the dining room. “Wait, honey, don't go.”

“Mom.” She shakes her head.

“Honey, please... would you ever dream of forgiving us? Or... me? I'm sorry, all right? So sorry.” Tears glisten in her eyes. “Please don't leave.”

“Arlene,” snaps Mr. Beale.

“Yeah, of course I would,” says Kirsten. “If you acted like you even wanted me around. And Dad, lay off already.”

“I agree,” says Mrs. Beale. “Greg, go ahead and finish dinner by yourself if that's how you want to be.” She picks her way across the torn up floor and holds her arms out to Kirsten, tears running down her cheeks.

As the two women hug, Mr. Beale's face turns a deeper shade of purple.

“Wow,” I say, “you really don't like to lose, do you?”

Alex hooks his arm around my waist. “Let's go.”

“The last person who picked on me regretted it every time,” I say as he hauls me towards the door. “You should ask her about it, if you ever bother to talk to her. Name's Kailie.”

Mrs. Beale takes Kirsten's toddler into her arms and coos at her.

“Good night, everyone,” says Alex.

“Yeah, and you're welcome.” I let him force march me out the door. “See you around. I think you lost your majority on the Municipal Council. Try to shut the library down now, huh?”

Alex pulls the door shut, cutting me off. “Seriously, Madison. You don't take any prisoners, do you?” The sun is now down and the horizon over the ocean is awash with dusky light.

“I was being nice.”

“Yeah, okay, you win. You did the nicest thing possible and totally showed him up. I won't ever doubt you again.”

I hold up his business card case in the dim glow of the porch light. On it are engraved the initials, “AWK”. “Better than threatening to revoke his lease or whatever you were going to do, huh, Alexander
Wilkstone
Katsumoto?”

He takes the case back and chuckles. We start to walk towards Ridge Road.

“Listen,” I say, “about my rent-”

“That wasn't me, really. I mean... the Board asked me if you and your mom were part of the community, and...”

“And?” I say.

“And I said I thought it'd be bad to lose you. They decided this months ago, you know, before you and I even started to hang out much. They sent your mom a letter to ask her about her financial situation, but she never responded-”

“Except with checks that bounced.”

“Yeah, I guess. I don't really know details.”

“Well, your secret is safe with me. Thank you for offering to blow your cover, but your dad obviously worked hard for you to be able to be just another kid at school. Just, be honest with me?”

“Hmm?”

“If you weren't supporting the money sink that is my subdivision, you'd make more than enough money to look after your mother-”

“No, don't even go there. Look, the Foundation isn't mine. The money isn't mine. It was set up, by my grandfather, as you guessed, and it's its own thing now. I just get to know what they do and they ask me sometimes what I think. As for my mother...” He takes my hand, interlacing our fingers. “Your solution is the best one. You know? I'm close to being able to get guardianship of her. It helps that I've got a job at a group home now and I aced the job interview. I'm thinking of getting my GED, going to junior college, and maybe go on to get a bachelors. Maybe even nursing school.”

“GED?”

He shakes his head. “I'm not gonna graduate. You must've known that. Come on. I'm so far behind on credits I'm probably a sophomore or something. School's been like daycare for me. I haven't turned in homework ever, I don't think.” He looks down at his shoes.

I let go of his hand and slip my arm around his waist. We're at Wilkstone Road now, the road that Alex always calls “Main Street.” It must be weird to have a street named after your family. That plus the fact that he never had to ask me for my address were clues I should have picked up on earlier. The light is green so we cross on over. Once on the other side, he catches me under the chin with his finger and leans down for a kiss, which leads to another kiss and another until a pair of headlights washes over us and a car turns the corner and pulls over.

“Please,” comes my brother's voice from the driver's side window. “Please do not tell me you've decided he's a misunderstood, tortured soul and you've fallen madly in love with him.”

“John,” I say, “this is-”

“Alex, obviously,” says John. “Nice jacket, Madison.”

“My boyfriend.”

“I was afraid of that.” He gets out of the car and comes over. I can see in the reflected glow of the headlights, before they wink out and the engine stills altogether, that my brother is exhausted. Dark circles and deep lines make it look like he pulled at least one all nighter, and I suspect he did. “I'm her older brother,” he says to Alex. “There are two more where I came from. You hurt my sister and I
swear
, I will kill you.”

Alex hunches his shoulders slightly and nods. “Yeah, okay. Sounds fair.”

John holds out his hand and Alex shakes it.

“So what are you doing here?” I ask John. “Not that I'm not happy to see you, but-”