A ping rouses me from that state where I’m dreaming but on the verge of being awake. For the past month I’ve waited for Scarlett to flash her lights, but each night, nothing. Last night, after waiting for her until one, I stayed up until three working on the plumbing in the bathroom.
My muscles heavy, I roll over in bed and grab my cell. I consider throwing it across the room when I spot Glory’s name: I’m here for you, remember that. We aren’t a conventional family, but we’re a family, and whether you believe it or not, you are loved.
Evidently Glory’s taken to recreational drug use. I scroll through my cell to find a few nonsense messages from V and Leo. They tag me and Nazareth to piss us off because we hate being spammed. Then there’s one from Marshall: I’ll be by at eleven. I need to discuss something with you.
Another meeting with Marshall is the last thing I want, but it’s necessary. I have a half hour to shower and make this place look halfway decent. I push off the bed and get to work.
* * *
I barely have the last dish dried when there’s a knock on the front door. The sick feeling in my gut makes me walk slowly to where Marshall’s waiting. I open the door, and he’s decked out in a pair of jeans and a University of Kentucky polo shirt. He’s an alum, and the fact that he’s a UK basketball fan is one of the few things we have in common.
Mumbling, “Hey,” I wave him in, and he does a good scan of the living room and kitchen. His surprise is noticeable. I’m betting he was expecting to find a graveyard of pizza boxes, a pyramid of empty beer cans and a few naked, passed-out girls.
Preferring not to have a repeat of our last conversation, I head to the kitchen and lean back against the counter as I wait for him to give me whatever new speech he’s concocted. He follows me into the kitchen and asks me a few questions about school. I answer them with short sentences. To be nice, I ask about his family. His answers are fake and to the point.
“I meant what I said after your grandmother died,” Marshall says. “I’m here for you.”
Don’t buy it, but I do want my land. “Why are you here?”
Marshall glances away, and a pit forms in my stomach. He’s not the type to dodge things. In fact, he’s the type that races through a wall at a hundred miles per hour. Direct and fast. Makes him a good lawyer and a pain in my ass. So this pause means bad things for me.
“I was contacted by the Parole Victims Services Office. Your father’s up for parole.”
Parole. Flashes of memory. My father. My mother. The yelling. The screaming. The crying. The searing pain down my back. Her blood and mine. Anger rushes through me so quickly I begin to shake. “How the hell is that possible?”
Marshall opens his mouth then mashes his lips together. After a few more beats, he tries again. “There’s not a good enough reason to give you other than it’s happening.”
I scrub my hands over my face, then over my head. Scratching along the way because the pain has to wake me up from this nightmare. Three years. It’s only been three years. “You told me he would serve twenty.”
“This wasn’t my understanding of the plea deal, and I have friends who specialize in criminal law looking into it for me. I know nothing I’m saying makes it okay.”
“Okay?” I shout. “He killed my mother! He should die in jail!”
“I agree. Keep in mind it’s a parole hearing. It doesn’t mean he’ll be released. In fact, I think we have a good chance of keeping him in. I think this is a mistake, and if I can’t have all this reversed before his hearing, I’ve secured a victim hearing with the parole board. I’ll be speaking there. You can come with me and speak or you can complete a Victim Impact Statement, which I can read to them. It’s whatever you’re comfortable with.”
My head’s a mess. Too many thoughts, too many emotions collide. Unable to stand anymore, I sink to the floor and rest my head in my hands. The hits keep coming.
“Will he be there?” I ask, my voice hoarse. “Because I don’t want to see him.”
My mom. God, I miss my mom.
The linoleum floor creaks as Marshall crouches in front of me. “No, he won’t. You don’t have to go. Instead, you can write a statement of what you want the parole board to know.”
“If I do that, you’ll say I’m not strong enough.”
“You saw your father murder your mother. I don’t get the right to think one way or another on how you handle this. I only have the right to respect you for still breathing.”
The words sound good, but I don’t put weight into them. After Mom died, he told Gran to send me away. I can’t deal with this, not now. I’ll make a decision. Later. Though my knees are weak, I force myself to stand. “Thanks for letting me know.”
Marshall stretches to his full height. “We should talk about your mom—”
“I can’t,” I cut him off, and when he starts to argue, I shut him down. “I can’t.”
Marshall raises his hands in submission, and the silence between us grows uncomfortable by the second. If Glory is psychic, she could have warned me that my life was about to implode.
“I need my land,” I say. “If you take it from me, you take my only shot at being happy.”
“You think this is the best time to discuss this?”
“No, but I don’t think there’s a good time.”
He tilts his head in agreement. “What if I told you one of the reasons I’m pushing you so hard is because you think this farm is all you have? There’s more to life than this land.”
“The guidance counselor already gave me a speech on college this week.”
“Did you listen?”
I snort as an answer, and Marshall is good enough to chuckle with me. Then he sobers up and so do I. My gut twists because I don’t know how to make him understand. “I need this land.”
“You’re more capable than what you think, and you’ll never figure that out because you limit yourself at every turn. Some days . . .” He pauses. “Some days I’m scared there is a curse. Some days I’d prefer you unsupervised in the world rather than you staying on this farm.”
That catches my attention. “You believe?”
“No, but I have to admit believing in a curse would make more sense than believing that doomed coincidence happens to this family over and over again. Julia dying so young, taking our unborn child with her, your mom being murdered, your gran losing everyone she loved.”
“She had me,” I say, and I don’t know why.
“She did,” he agrees. “But think of how you came to her and how hard it was for you to trust. That wasn’t your fault. I just wish something had been easy for your grandmother.”
Yeah, me, too. “You think sending me away from this land will break the curse?” The exact opposite of what my mother believed.
Marshall stares out the back window. “What do you think? When so many in your family have failed at happiness, what do you think is going to break the cycle?”
“I don’t know. It seems like every time I get a taste of happy, something else nails me in the head. But if I want to leave, then it’s up to me to leave, and it should be my choice if the land is here waiting for me when I return.”
Marshall studies me, and for one of the first times, it’s not in contempt. “This is the first real conversation we’ve had since you moved in with your gran.”
“Does that mean you’re going to vote for me?” I ask. Marshall slightly grins and my lips slightly turn up as well, but then his face falls.
“It means you aren’t your mom and you aren’t your dad, and you aren’t a product of their choices. I hope someday you’ll see that. Believe it or not, I want you happy, and I believe you’ll be happier without the land and the doomed legacy that follows it. I loved your aunt Julia. More than you can imagine. We had the opportunity to stay out of this town, and I let Julia talk me into coming back. If I had disagreed, she’d still be alive.”
A muscle ticks in my jaw. “That sounds like you have no intentions of voting for me.”
He doesn’t say anything. Just stands there, hands on his hips, and I know without a doubt I’m screwed. I have Scarlett’s vote, but if I don’t convince the pastor to vote for me, I’ll lose my land.
“You think your vision is clear, but it’s not,” Marshall says. “You have to trust me on this. I can see the happiness you need even when you can’t.”
“I think you were right. I don’t think it’s time for us to talk about this.”
Marshall rubs his eyes then heads for the door. “You’ll need to decide what you want to do about the hearing. Take your time, think on it and get back to me.” Then he leaves.