Rebel

She seemed to think about that for a moment, then returned her gaze to Wes. “Tori will want to go with him, but you know how she gets. It would be better if I were there to keep her together. But we have the girls, and Mom… I called Claudia to help, but she’s in Kansas visiting her sister.”



Rubi had to bite her lip not to volunteer. She really did like to help people, but little kids and crazy grandmothers were waaaaaay the hell out of her spectrum of knowledge.



Only, when Susie’s gaze turned back to Rubi, she was pretty sure she was going to get a crash course in both. “I hate to ask, Rubi.” She paused with a tortured expression that conveyed the truth of her statement. “But, do you think…”



“Of course.” What the hell else was she going to say to this lovely woman who’d made her feel instantly at home? “I can’t promise to be good at any of it, but I can try.”



Susie stepped over to Rubi and hugged her. “Oh, thank you.”



Rubi gazed over her shoulder at Wes. He had that God-I-love-you look in his eyes again, but all Rubi could do was make a dramatic face of what-the-fuck-did-I-just-get-myself-into terror at him before his mother pulled back.



Wes’s grin spread across his face, and his shoulders shook with silent laughter.



A shriek drifted up the stairs, then a fight broke out between the girls somewhere in the house.



“Oh dear.” Susie pulled away but kept her hands on Rubi’s shoulders. “Emma was very upset that I interrupted her painting to come home.” She glanced at Wes. “You know how she is.”



“You go get them settled, have a talk with Grams, and I’ll give Rubi a few guidelines.”



Susie kissed Rubi’s cheek. “Thank you so much, sweetheart.”



As soon as she left the room, she called, “Girls, no fighting.”



Rubi dropped her head into her hands on a groaned “Oh my God.”



Wes’s laughter bubbled over as he sat down next to her on the bed. With an arm around her shoulders, he pulled her close to his side. “Hey, it’s not that bad. Just put Abby in front of a Dora the Explorer marathon, set up Emma in a separate room with the shitload of Legos, and lock Grams in her room. Cake.”



Rubi lifted her head with a horrified expression. “Lock her in her room? And what the hell is Dora the…whatever you said?”



“Dora is a who. And I was kidding about locking Grams in her room, but I would suggest locking her in the house. She likes to wander.”



“Oh, for Christ’s sake. What did I just commit myself to?”



He turned her face toward him, his grin soft. “Family, Rubi. You’ve just committed yourself to taking care of family the way only another family member can. An intensely noble effort.”



Wes’s suggestions worked—but only for the first two hours. Then the relative calm turned to shit.



Actually, if she were truthful, she’d have to say the trouble started fifteen minutes after Wes and his mother walked out of the house in the form of Birdie deciding she needed—needed—to make holiday pies. In October. Then the trouble escalated in increments made up of spilled cranberry juice on Susie’s cream carpet, Abby’s laughter instigating a screaming fit from Emma, and Birdie’s cyclonic methods in the kitchen.



“Rubi,” Abby called from the family room for the twentieth time in two hours. “Dora’s over.”



Rubi looked up from the dustpan she maneuvered to sweep up the flour Birdie kept scattering all over the kitchen floor.



“I’m coming.”



“Oh dear,” Birdie said. “I’ve run out of sugar.” She untied her apron. “I’ll just go next door and borrow some from Mabel.”



“Hold on, Birdie. It’s dark outside. I’ll go with you. Just let me put another video on for Abby.”



“You’re such a sweet girl, Missy. Thank you, dear. I’ll wait by the front door.”



Rubi rolled her eyes at the Missy reference on her way into the family room. She blew her hair back and searched through the Dora DVDs. “Oh, this one sounds cute,” she said, working for enthusiasm. “Dora saves the Prince.”



“I’ve seen that one,” Abby said.



“You’ve seen them all, sweetheart.” Rubi fingered through the cases. “Twenty-five times. Okay, here’s a great one. The Chocolate Tree. Everyone loves chocolate, right?” When Abby wrinkled her nose, Rubi turned over the case and read, “Dora and Boots seek the Chocolate Tree and a gift for Abuela.” She added a Hispanic accent for a flourishing Abuela, making Abby giggle.



“Okay.”



“Thank God,” Rubi muttered under her breath and lowered to her knees to switch out the DVDs, but ended up struggling with the damn machine.



An ear-piercing screech rose in the next room. Her heart lurched to her throat, and she swung around. Abby was gone.



“Fuck,” she whispered and dropped her face into her hands.



Emma wailed again, so loud Rubi winced.



Then Abby started yelling over her. “I didn’t mean it. I was just trying to help.”



The headache Rubi had been holding back broke loose. Pain spread across her forehead and exploded behind her eyes.



“Girls,” she groaned as she pushed to her feet. “No need to scream.”



When she stepped into the kitchen, Rubi remembered Birdie. “I’ll be right there, Birdie,” she yelled over the chaos. But got no answer. “Birdie?” Rubi surveyed Emma’s tower. It was in perfect condition. She glanced at Emma, who had tears streaming down her face, then at Abby, “Why is she screaming?”



Abby pointed to the Lego piles Emma had separated into color. A few yellows had fallen into the blue pile. Rubi started to reach for them to straighten them out but pulled her hand back. “Emma?” The girl’s screaming turned to gurgles. “Emma? Do you want me to fix the colors for you?”



She nodded. But then collapsed in tears.



Abby, seemingly unfazed, skipped back into the living room. “Rubi, where’s the Chocolate Tree?”



Now Rubi wanted to break down into tears.



Her phone buzzed in her back pocket. Rubi pulled it out and peered through the hallway toward the front door.



WES: Still alive?



RUBI: Barely. Emma’s on to something with the tear-filled tantrums. I’m thinking it’s the way to go from now on. How’s Wyatt?



“Birdie?” Rubi called.



WES: Not great. Blood clots caused the swelling to his legs. Traveled to his lungs. Really dangerous. He’s just out of CAT scan. They’re trying to find a room for him. Hospital’s full.



RUBI: Is he going to be okay?



Then she had a really frightening thought.



RUBI: Did the rig cause them?



“Oh God.” She closed her eyes, a sudden knot in her chest. “Please say no.”



WES: No. Moving the legs prevents blood clots. He’ll be fine now.



She exhaled, and the knot inside her unraveled. Until she thought about Birdie.



RUBI: Where is Mabel’s house?



WES: Mabel who?



RUBI: Birdie wants to borrow sugar from Mabel. Where does she live?



Rubi slowly, carefully moved the yellow Legos back into the yellow pile, as if Emma were a lion and might pounce on her any second.



WES: Mabel’s been dead for fifteen years.



She read the message twice, her head clearing now that Emma was sobbing quietly, curled into a ball in the kitchen chair. “Oh no.” She turned and sprinted toward the front door. “Birdie?”



The door was open, cold air sweeping in.



“Fuck.” She stepped out on the porch, searching the darkness. “Birdie!”



Nothing. No voices, no footsteps, not even a rustle of leaves.



“She wanders.”



Wes’s words cut through Rubi, a knife of terror. “Birdie!” She ran down the steps, scouring the darkness, but saw nothing but those damned trees. “Shit.”



Now what?



“Rubi?” Abby called from the porch.



“Stay inside, Abby. Birdie went for a walk, and I need to find her. Can you go inside for me and close the front door?”



“I…don’t like being alone.”



Oh. My. God. How the hell had she gotten into this?



Rubi started back up the steps and guided her inside. “You’re not alone, honey. Emma’s here, and you’ve got to watch Dora find the chocolate bush.”



“Tree.” Abby climbed onto the sofa and curled into the corner. “Chocolate tree.”



“Right. I’m not going anywhere. I’m just taking a walk around the house, and I’ll come right back in.”



Abby laughed at something the monkey did—Rubi never wanted to hear the name Swiper ever again…like ever—and was instantly reabsorbed into the cartoon. Rubi took one more look at poor little Emma, wishing she had the first idea of how to soothe the girl.



“Emma?” She crouched in front of her. “Can you help me find a flashlight?”



She lifted her head, pushed off the stool, and walked to a cabinet beneath the sink and pulled out a Maglite.



Rubi took it with a smile. “Wow. You are the smartest little girl I’ve ever met.”



Emma sniffled, still not meeting her eyes when she said, “I like flashlights.”



“Have you ever played shadow games with flashlights?”



Her pretty blue eyes flicked to Rubi’s for a split second, then darted toward the floor again. “No.”



“It’s almost bedtime. After I find Birdie…”—please God let me find Birdie—“I’ll teach you how before you go to sleep. They’re really fun.”



“Okay.” She turned and climbed back into her chair. With her chin propped in her hand, she stared at her color-coded piles of blocks.



Rubi’s phone buzzed again as she quietly shut the front door behind her and flipped on the flashlight.



WES: Is everything okay?



RUBI: Multiple meltdowns, carpet stains, kitchen covered in flour, missing grandmother…everything is peach-perfect.



WES: Baby, I’m sorry. Do you want me to come home?



RUBI: Yes, but don’t. Take care of Wyatt. When Birdie wanders?



“Birdie?” she yelled as she waited for a response. “Can you hear me?”



WES: The barn or the berry patches along the creek.



“Holy fuck.” She had to search the barn and the creek in the dark? When she didn’t even know where either of them was?



RUBI: I’ve gotta go.



She stuffed the phone back in her pocket and panned the flashlight across a grassy patch at the front of the house. Aimlessly, she wandered, starting where she’d first encountered Birdie, on the gravel road. This might be a beautiful piece of property during the day, but it was just plain-ass freaky at night, and Rubi had every slasher movie floating through her head. With no sign of Birdie, no response to her repeated calls, Rubi’s thoughts transitioned from the ridiculous nonexistent threat of danger to the very real possibility that Birdie was hurt or truly lost.



Panic for the woman’s well-being coiled in her chest, tightening Rubi’s throat. If Birdie was hurt on Rubi’s watch, she didn’t know what she’d do. She couldn’t deal with that. And, goddammit, she shouldn’t have been left with this kind of responsibility.