Читать книгу Death Benefits - Hannah Alexander - Страница 13

Ginger had grown so attuned to Lucy and Brittany that she had known before Lucy even stopped her that she was suddenly in a panic. Her eyes, glistening with fear, were so wide, her expression so vulnerable that it broke Ginger’s heart.

Ginger followed Lucy’s line of vision, and indeed, saw a teenager who looked a lot like Rick Fenrow. He had thick, black hair, a pale, almost gaunt face, and eyebrows that looked like untamable caterpillars.

“No, honey. It’s okay,” she said, squatting to face Lucy, to hold her gaze and assure her she was safe. “That young man isn’t Rick.”

Lucy stared into her eyes, sober, serious, probing, as if attempting to discern if Ginger was merely trying to placate her.

“You’ve seen Rick Fenrow, Lucy,” she said softly. “We both know what he looks like, and if that was him,” she said, pointing at the kid, “I’d be calling for the police. You can trust me. Rick is older than this young man by at least ten or fifteen years.”

Lucy blinked then and sighed quietly, and Ginger saw some of the tension leave her face. “Okay.”

Ginger glanced up to find Ray’s gaze on her again, and the expression on his face suggested that he was trying to determine the wisdom of joining her in her efforts to reassure Lucy.

Did he know about the prison break? He looked confused.

“He’s a doppelgänger,” Ginger said.

Lucy frowned. “Huh?”

Ginger tried not to smile. Whenever Lucy heard a new word, she was distracted for hours trying to pronounce it and understand it. “That means you’re looking at someone who seems familiar, but really isn’t. That young man over there isn’t Rick, because he’s a kid. See, those are probably his parents with him.” She pointed to a middle-aged couple walking beside the youngster. To Lucy, of course, a teenage boy would look like a grown man.

What concerned Ginger was that Lucy obviously did know what Rick Fenrow looked like. That might be because she remembered him from last year, when he lived in the same apartment complex. It might also be because she’d gotten a good look at him in the window last night.

Ginger didn’t want to even think about that.

Oh, Lord, protect us.

Lucy watched the dopoganer—or whatever it was Aunt Ginger called him—hand his ticket to somebody in a uniform, then follow a line of people out of sight. He didn’t look at Lucy once.

Maybe that was because he really didn’t know her. Or maybe it was because he didn’t want her to know he knew her. What if he was pretending? What if he came back and grabbed her or Brittany when no one was looking?

Trying to think like a killer wasn’t easy.

She wanted to watch to make sure he didn’t come back, but Willow took her by the hand.

“Come on, sweetheart. We’ve got a short layover, and a lot of walking to do to get to our next gate.”

Graham picked up Brittany and carried her on ahead of them. Uncle Preston walked on Lucy’s other side, with his hand on her shoulder and his other hand holding his cell phone while he talked to his girlfriend, Sheila.

Uncle Preston was big and strong. Lucy felt safe with him.

She felt safe with Willow, too. Willow was tall and strong and brave.

Last year, the night the fire broke out at Uncle Preston’s cabin, Willow had broken into the apartment to rescue Lucy and Brittany because she couldn’t get them to answer the door. She had been the first person to discover they were alone at night while Mama worked. That was when she argued with Mama, and then started babysitting them so they wouldn’t be alone.

Lucy looked at Willow’s arm, and with her fingers she traced the scar Willow had gotten from cutting herself on the window when she broke in to save them. “Does this still hurt sometimes?”

Willow smiled down at her. “Nope. It doesn’t even itch now.”

Lucy would never tell anybody this, but she loved looking at that scar. Every time she saw it, she remembered that Willow would do anything to protect her and Brittany. And that was even before she was going to adopt them.

“Are Brittany and me in danger?” Lucy asked softly.

Willow’s steps slowed and stopped, and she knelt down to look into Lucy’s eyes, right there in the middle of that crowded hallway in the airport. Lucy had heard people say she looked as if she could be Willow’s daughter, with the same dark eyebrows and hair.

Lucy wanted to look like Willow. She wanted to act like her, too, strong and kind and brave. And she never wanted to do drugs or act crazy, like Mama.

“Honey, I know you were frightened last night,” Willow said gently. “I’m sorry that happened. I’m also sorry you overheard about Rick Fenrow’s prison break. But you need to understand how much we love you. We aren’t going to take any chances with you and Brittany, believe me.”

“Do you think he’s following us?”

“It doesn’t seem possible he could know where we’re going, but we’ve got Larry with us, just in case. He’s keeping watch on us.”

“You’re scared of Rick Fenrow, too, aren’t you?” Lucy asked.

Instead of denying it, Willow drew Lucy close and hugged her.

“Okay, ladies,” Larry Bager said, his voice gruff. “There’ll be time for heart-to-hearts later. Our flight’s already boarding. Better pick up the pace.”

Willow never answered Lucy’s question, which meant the answer was yes. Why didn’t grown-ups ever admit to kids when they were afraid?

Lucy thought she knew why. Mama used to say, “Why should I try to explain something to you when you can’t possibly understand it, anyway? It’s grown-up stuff, and you’re a kid. If you try to be a grown-up before you’re ready, you’ll get stupid and mess everything up. So let me be the grown-up for a while longer, okay?”

Mama was really scared the morning before she died. When grown-ups got scared, it meant there was something to be afraid of.

Ray deliberately placed himself behind Ginger as they waited to board, and he noted how hard she was trying to ignore him. He smiled to himself every time he caught her watching him from the periphery of her vision.

Last year at this time, had they been in this same situation, Ginger would have already known how he had enjoyed his trip so far, what he intended to accomplish for the remainder of the trip, and what she could do to help facilitate his time in Hawaii.

She would also have gathered the same information about every other person traveling with her. Ordinarily. Even taking into account her awkwardness with him, she seemed distracted.

He turned to look at her, and their gazes met briefly. To his surprise, for a moment, she didn’t look away. A ridge of worry formed between her brows.

“Ginger?” he asked softly. “Is something wrong? Something besides just—” he held his palm up and waved it between the two of them “—just this.”

She blinked, her golden-brown eyes clouding, then she glanced at the children who stood beside her and turned away.

Dark-haired, dark-eyed Lucy continued to study him as they boarded, as if he were an interesting mathematical equation on a school chalkboard.

When they reached their seats, Ray sat behind Ginger. He smiled and winked at Lucy, and she looked away.

Once again, Lucy had the window seat, and she seemed pleased with this. She had remained near an adult at all times, while watching her little sister with all the dedication of a prison guard. Ginger wasn’t the only one who seemed distracted by something, though from the little Ray knew of Lucy, he wasn’t sure if this was characteristic of her or not.

Ray glanced at Graham and Willow, sitting across the aisle from Ginger and the two little girls. Steve and Helen Courtney sat across the aisle from Ray, with Larry Bager and Preston Black in front of Graham and Willow. Someone had made a concerted effort to keep the family together. To Ray’s surprise, no one joined him. He had three seats to himself.

A flight attendant handed Lucy and Brittany blankets and pillows. Lucy wrapped herself from head to foot with the blanket, and pushed a pillow beneath her, craning to see out the window as they took off.

Before they had reached cruising altitude, Ray saw Brittany lie across Ginger’s lap, and Ginger’s head lolled sideways. He wanted to nudge her and remind her of the crick she would have in her neck if she stayed that way for long.

He remembered flying with her to Belarus a couple of times, usually overnight flights. He could never understand the logic of traveling at night. It wasn’t as if most people were going to sleep—at least, he never did. Ginger was one of the few people who seemed able to sleep anywhere, anytime. He never could.

Ginger always awakened with a stiff neck. On their second flight to Belarus, he’d given her a pillow to support her neck. She’d taken it with her on every trip after that. But she hadn’t brought it with her this time.

He glanced toward Lucy, and saw her watching him through the crack between her seat and Ginger’s. He grinned and winked at her, and she retreated back into her cocoon, hiding from the world. But why?

He unbuckled his seat belt and leaned over the seat in front of him, pressed the release and gently pushed Ginger’s seat back the two inches the airlines allotted for stretching out. Not generous, but better than nothing.

At the movement, Brittany snuggled closer to Ginger’s shoulder. Ginger’s lips parted slightly.

Ray couldn’t help watching her, moved by the vulnerability that sleep always brought. How he wished—

Her eyes opened. For a quick moment, her gaze remained tender, holding his, warming with the start of a smile.

Then those same eyes chilled, memory obviously returning. The moment ended, and Ray felt a sharp prick of sorrow.

“I didn’t want you to get a crick in your neck,” he explained, suddenly awkward.

She nodded, resettling. “Thank you.” Her tone didn’t invite further conversation.

He returned to his seat, once again saddened by the loss of their former closeness. He rebuked himself for this inability to let the past go, but logic wasn’t a part of this relationship. Had it ever been?

Lucy’s head popped over the top of her seat, and she stared at him, her gaze solemn.

“My name’s Ray,” he whispered.

She nodded, grimacing, as if to say, Of course I knew that. Do you think I’m deaf?

“I believe this must be your first flight,” he said.

She didn’t say anything, but her eyes widened.

“Do you like it so far?” he asked.

She hesitated, then whispered, “Why do you want to know?”

Her question surprised him. Not something he’d have expected an eight-year-old to ask. Then he remembered about her mother. Lucy was behaving like a child whose mother had left her and her sister at home alone at night, careful to avoid talking to strangers, in case someone asked her about her home life.

“I remember my first flight.” Ray continued to whisper. “My uncle took me up when I was ten years old. He had his own airplane, and he knew I was afraid of heights, so he talked me through takeoff. I loved it immediately. He flew me over the whole town of Branson, where I grew up.”

Lucy blinked at him. “Why are you telling me about it?”

Again, her response startled him. “So you won’t be so afraid.”

The blanket she’d worn over her head slid to her shoulders. “I’m not afraid of flying.”

He leaned a little closer. “I can tell you’re afraid of something, though.”

She pulled the blanket back over her head.

“I saw how frightened you were back at the airport,” Ray said a moment later. “You haven’t relaxed since I first saw you in Springfield. Are you afraid to fly over the ocean?”

Lucy shook her head.

“I saw how tightly you held Brittany’s hand as we boarded the plane.”

“Jet. It’s a jet.”

“Oh, excuse me. You’re right, of course.”

“I know why you’re trying to be nice to me,” she said.

He raised his eyebrows.

“You’re talking to me because you like Aunt Ginger, and you want her to like you.”

Ray laughed, hoping his laughter didn’t offend Lucy.

She smiled, as if pleased that she’d caused this kind of reaction.

“Something funny?” came Ginger’s sleep-riddled voice.

“Sorry,” he whispered.

Lucy intrigued Ray. She reminded him of one of the kids at the children’s home he helped support in Columbia—the child with the abusive father. Ray knew Lucy had endured some hardships in her short childhood, as had Brittany.

More reason to do everything in his power to see to it that this experience was a good one for her.

Lucy wasn’t the only one who appeared unable to relax. Graham, Willow, Ginger, Preston, and this unexpected wild card in the mix, Larry Bager, all seemed hyperwatchful of the children, and of the crowds around them at the airport.

Ray studied the reflection of Lucy’s face as she gazed out the window. What was she thinking right now? Was she simply looking at the clouds, enjoying her first chance to observe them from above instead of below?

Or was something darker weighing on her mind?

“Lucy?” he said softly, unwilling to leave well enough alone.

A moment later, her head appeared over the top of the seat. She looked wary of him still. “How do you know our names? You said Brittany’s name, too, when you talked to me awhile ago.”

“Graham is one of my best friends, and he talks about you girls all the time.”

“He does?”

“He sure does. He’s very much looking forward to the adoption.”

Her eyes filled with sudden, surprised interest, and he could tell she was trying not to smile. “If Graham is one of your best friends, then why doesn’t Aunt Ginger like you, too?”

“Oh, well, that’s another story entirely.”

She tilted her head to one side and waited, as if ready to hear the story.

“I’ve got a lot of extra room back here,” he said. “It’s going to be a long flight. Want to spread out a little? I’ll let you have my window seat. That way Ginger and Brittany will have more room to relax and—”