Читать книгу You, And No Other - Lynda Sandoval - Страница 7

Twelve years ago …

Cagney Bishop tensed when she heard the crunch of tires on the gravel drive in front of their house. She’d become so attuned to her police chief father’s explosive and unpredictable behavior over the years, she could gauge the mood of the coming evening simply from how he opened and closed the doors.

Engine killed.

Door opened.

SLAM!

She winced, then quickly hid her sketch pad beneath her comforter, replacing it with a textbook and spiral notebook. She poised her pencil over the page and cocked her head to listen.

Heavy stomps.

Key in the lock.

Door creak.

SLAM!

Her shoulders sagged. So much for tonight, but oh, well. Same crap, different day, right? She shouldn’t feel the least twinge of disappointment. After seven-teen-plus years, did she think he’d suddenly morph into a father worthy of a Hallmark card? Dream on.

She snuggled farther into her upholstered headboard, as if she could somehow make herself a smaller target. No doubt he’d have words with Mom first, but eventually—like always—he’d wind up in her face for some trumped-up reason.

Hang in there, she told herself, vying to shake off the never-ending pall of her home life and refocus on her goals for the weeks, months, years ahead. Prom, then graduation, then she’d finally—thank God—finally be off to college and out from under the chief’s oppressive regime. If she could just suck it up a few more weeks, which was nothing in the scheme of things. Even if it felt like an eternity …

Her door swung open much sooner than expected and hit the opposite wall, but she didn’t react—a coping mechanism she’d honed to perfection over the years.

Never let him see you sweat.

After his last bout of fury, when he’d, yet again, thrown her door open so violently that the doorknob had punched into the drywall, she’d given up on the futile and repeated patch jobs. Instead, she stuffed the hole with a small, poofy pillow to soften future blows and prevent those loud, intimidating slams he seemed so fond of. Still, she wanted to yell have a little respect for my privacy—or better, go the hell away—but she never would.

Despite the lack of clatter with today’s entrance, one glance into her father’s reddened face told her she was in for it. It didn’t help that he still wore his intimidatingly authoritative uniform, gun and all—not that he’d ever physically abuse any of them, but still. Sometimes she wondered if a punch would hurt less than his relentless, cutting words.

Schooling her features into nothingness, she held his gaze. Waiting. Always best to take the defensive when dealing with an unpredictable force.

When he didn’t speak, a dull thud started in her chest. He couldn’t have found out about her subversive prom plans, could he? She almost scoffed aloud, even as fear clawed up her spine. Who was she kidding? He could find out anything. He had an entire police force of spies and wasn’t afraid to use them, ethics be damned.

“What in the hell do you think you’re doing?” he said finally, through clenched teeth.

Play dumb. Her gaze strayed to the books in her lap, then back to his face. “Homework, Chief?” Pretty pathetic that she couldn’t bear to call her father by anything but that. Any affection she’d felt for the man had died long ago. Dad? Daddy? Those words meant nothing to her. Some kids got lucky. Other kids got out.

“Don’t get smart with me.” He yanked the little pillow out of the ruined drywall and whipped it across the room. “You know what I’m talking about.”

Uh-oh. She managed a tight swallow. She probably did know. Still, the prom wasn’t until tomorrow night, and it could be any number of perceived transgressions. No sense showing her hand prematurely. “If you’ll just tell me—”

“Prom, Cagney.” Chief started pacing—no, stalking—around the room, clenching and unclenching his fists. “Your lies, Cagney. That little Eberhardt dirtbag, Cagney,” he spat, his tone icy and derisive. “You thought I wouldn’t find out?”

Hopefully? Well, at least not until she chose to tell him. She decided to consider his question rhetorical and not address it at all. “It’s just a dance.” She struggled to keep her tone light, to avoid pleading. “We’re school friends, that’s all. If you’d give Jonas a chance—”

“Damn it! Are you stupid?” In two strides, he loomed over her. “I forbid you to go with that criminal, do you understand?”

It took a moment for his words to sink in. “But—””

No!” He cut off her protests with one slash of his hand through the air. “After all I’ve given you, all I’ve done for you, now this? I’d expect this kind of sneaky behavior from that worthless sister of yours, Terri. But I thought you were following in Deirdre’s footsteps.

“Deirdre, the “good daughter.” She’d gone off and joined the FBI, making Chief proud. Cagney pushed back her initial shock that he’d even mentioned the “bad daughter,” Terri, who had defied him to run off to New York City two years earlier. Since then, no one was allowed to utter her name in his presence. Apparently the unfair rule only applied to the rest of them. “I’m not following in anyone’s footsteps, Chief. I have my own path. I’m just me.”

He barked out an evil laugh. “Well, let me tell you how things are going to be, ‘just me,’” he said with a sneer, “because I’m going to give you a chance to redeem yourself. You have a choice.”

A choice? Wow, a first. She gulped. “Okay.”

“You either go off to your prom with that Eberhardt bastard, or you don’t.”

She blinked. “W-what do you mean?”

“I mean, instead, you’ll go with someone else. Someone I approve of.”

Too easy. Had to be a trap. She bit one corner of her lip and took a moment to consider what exactly he was up to, but couldn’t figure it out. “Then, if that’s my choice, I’ll go with Jonas.”

A slash of a smile split his stern face. Not a real smile, of course. She didn’t remember him ever truly smiling. “Great. Go off with your little hoodlum.” A long, thick pause ensued. “But you’ll see no money from me for your college education if you do. Not a dime.”

Her stomach churned violently. “Chief—!”

“Those are the terms.” He let them sink in. “Because I’m a nice guy, I’ll give you one more chance to make a different choice, and that college education you dream of can be yours.”

To her horror, the churning rose to her throat, and she thought she might be sick right then and there. How could she choose between those awful options? Jonas or college? Bottom line, she needed the Chief’s financial backing to get to college, and she desperately needed college for her freedom and sanity. It was too late to apply for financial assistance. Even loans, at least for the first semester, and her dad made too much money for her to qualify for any grants. But she couldn’t bear another six months at home. She had to start classes on time.

And yet, she needed Jonas for her sanity. Prom without Jonas? Her heart rattled.

Sure, he lived in a trailer on the far side of Troublesome Gulch with a single mom who spent too much time in the bars—the ultimate hard-luck cliché—but so what? Should he be punished for that?

Jonas was the best person she knew. Thoughtful, observant, supportive, unassuming. He rose above his circumstances with dreams and goals and the resiliency to make them come true.

He wanted to write and had already composed raw, poignant, honest poetry she kept hidden in a box at the back of her closet. Aside from Mrs. DeLuca, the art teacher at school (and also her friend Erin’s mom), Jonas was the only person in the world who believed Cagney could succeed as an artist and could use her talent to help others.

He inspired her.

He loved her.

Jonas knew more about her and her farce of a home life than even her best friends. She glossed over most of that with the girls out of sheer embarrassment, but she told Jonas everything. They’d been forced to sneak around for years now, thanks to Chief’s discrimination against anyone he deemed unworthy. As far as he knew, she hadn’t been hanging with Jonas since before sophomore year, while in fact, she and Jonas had been in love since then.

They’d simply become experts at hiding.

Her rebellion was alive and well, but unequivocally passive.

She and Jonas had decided the prom would be their one out-in-the-open hurrah in Troublesome Gulch, a night just for the two of them and to hell with her father. They had the whole thing planned. They’d present a united front to Chief, lay out their case with cool logic, refuse to take no for an answer, and he’d eventually relent. What else could he do? Cagney was almost eighteen. It was supposed to be a magical night. Cagney and Jonas, just like fate intended.

Oh, how she’d underestimated her father. He’d rather deny her an education than see her happy with someone who didn’t meet his approval.

“Well?” Chief growled.

She worried her bottom lip between her teeth.

Jonas was a long-term, big-picture type of thinker, though. Who cared about one night, one dance, in the grand scheme of things, when they had their whole future? She could explain the situation; he knew what Chief was about. Knowing Jonas, he’d probably encourage her to jump through her father’s stupid hoops. The most important thing was getting to the university where they’d both been accepted, where they could spend every day together.

Jonas would get it. She just had to talk to him.

Her tension eased. “Fine. I’ll call Jonas and—”

“Absolutely not.”

Her eyes widened. “What?”

“I forbade you from talking to that hoodlum years ago, and although you disobeyed my orders without any regard, the rules still apply.”

Her breathing shallowed. “I can’t just stand him up. That’s completely rude.”

Her father leaned closer until she could smell the bitter precinct coffee on his breath. “You don’t get it, do you? I don’t care about that kid or his feelings, if he has any. You’ll go to the prom with someone else, and you won’t call your friends or Eberhardt before then. If you defy these terms, no college. Simple. Don’t think I’m kidding.”

“Chief!” She pounded her fists on the mattress at her sides. “That’s not fair.”

He grabbed her wrist and squeezed. “Life isn’t fair, and here’s a prime chance for you to learn that.”

As if she didn’t already know. A flash of anger emboldened her. “What happened that turned you so unbelievably cruel?” she asked in a hard whisper.

An avalanche of emotion moved over his face in a split second before his expression went stony and his tone lowered to a dangerous growl. “Yes or no, Cagney. Now. I have better things to do than play games with you.”

Her chin quivered from rage despite her best efforts to keep her emotions in the deep freeze. She stiffened her spine. It would be last-minute, but she could talk to Jonas at school tomorrow, hash everything out.

“Oh, and you won’t be going to school tomorrow,” Chief said, as though reading her mind. “I’ve called the office already.”

Her heart sank, and her vision swirled.

“What? You thought I wouldn’t consider every angle?”

How could she? Her father was the most calculating, manipulative person she’d ever known. But this really topped all. What was the point in it? To purposefully hurt Jonas? And her? She knew Chief was a control freak, but she hadn’t realized until that moment how truly mean-spirited he was.

“So?” His eyes glittered victoriously. He knew he had her. “What will it be? Prom with a boy who will never be worthy of you, or a college education? Your choice.”

Everything inside her went cold. She couldn’t feel. Couldn’t react appropriately. She should be weeping, screaming at him like Terri would’ve been. Instead, she just felt numb. Trapped. Tortured. “College, Chief. Of course college. What do you think I am, some kind of an idiot?”

He released her wrist, disgust in his expression. “Considering your choice of associates, sometimes I wonder.” He swaggered over to her purse, opened it, removed her cell phone, then walked to the wall and unplugged her home extension. “These go with me. Now that I know I can’t trust you. Don’t even try to use the computer, either. The modem is also with me.”

Icy fury bubbled in her throat.

Fight it back. Fight it back.

“There is no getting around this, so don’t bother trying. I’ll be staying home tomorrow to monitor you until your date picks you up for prom.”

“I’m not your prisoner, you know.” Though sometimes she wondered.

“No, you’re my daughter, who lives in my house and abides by my rules. Who will be your date?”

No answer.

“Fine.” He started toward the door. “Don’t go at all. I’d prefer that anyway.”

“No, wait.” She blew out a steadying breath. She couldn’t bear the thought of sitting in this oppressive house while her best friends in the world were at prom, especially knowing it would be her father’s preference. Her heart ached for Jonas, but she was backed into a corner. She supposed she could call him from the dance and have him meet her there. That was something. “I’ll go stag. With my friends.”

“Forget it. Only losers and sluts go stag.”

“That’s not true!”

He shrugged. “Name an escort or stay home.”

She blew out her frustration. “Tad Rivers, I guess?” she muttered. “He asked me, and I don’t think he has another date. He’d planned on going stag.” She glared up through her lashes. “So, is he a loser because of that or does he pass your inspection? His dad’s the city attorney.”

“I’ll call Will Rivers right now.”

“I want to go in a group. With my friends. Mick and Erin and Lexy are all going together with their dates.” Maybe she could get word to Jonas that he’d have to meet her there if she had the chance to rearrange plans with them. “If I can just call Lexy—”

“I’ll take care of it.”

“Gee, thanks. Do you even know what to say to her?”

He held up a finger. “Cut the snotty attitude. I’m doing you a favor. You should be thanking me.”

Cagney clenched her fists so hard that her fingernails drew blood in her palms, but she welcomed the sting. If she couldn’t go with Jonas, she was going to smuggle in the alcohol and get stinking drunk. Her father deserved that slap in the face, at least.

“Your mother said dinner is in twenty minutes.”

“I’m not hungry,” she muttered.

He whipped back, frowning. “I don’t give a damn if you ate three lunches and you’re stuffed full. Your mother cooked a meal, which is more than that worthless drunk Ava Eberhardt did tonight, I’m sure, and you’ll be at the table in twenty minutes. Do I make myself clear?”

A long pause ensued, during which she contemplated defending Jonas’s mother, toyed with telling Chief exactly where to go. Then she remembered her college escape plan, his invisible financial choke collar on her. He hadn’t even allowed her to work a part-time job during high school, so she had no money of her own. Zippo. Not a dime. Just another way for him to keep her under his thumb.

“Yes, sir,” she said, an emotionless, powerless shell.

“I’m glad to see you can be reasonable. On occasion. I won’t forget your defiance, Cagney.”

She met his gaze directly but managed to leach the emotion from her words. “I feel sorry for you, Chief.”

His lips thinned. “Save it.” And with that, he left.

Cagney’s feelings were twisted and stuffed so far inside her she couldn’t even cry. Her father deadened every part of her—it seemed the only way she could survive. She couldn’t even trust that her feelings were real anymore. When she hurt, did she really hurt? She thought she felt the cold clutch of fear sometimes, but was it truly fear or something else? How could she know? Everything was messed up inside her. She rested her face in her hands and breathed deeply.

Any other girl might be able to go to her mother for an ally in an argument like this, but her mom—Cagney shook her head. Look up the word passive in the dictionary, and you’d find a picture of Mom beside the word. She’d never defy Chief, not even to righteously defend her daughters.

Cagney sighed.

They would pull through this, she and Jonas.

He would get over the disappointment. He loved her.

He’d meet her at the dance, and they’d proceed as planned. It wouldn’t be the way they’d hoped the night would play out, but somehow … some way, she’d explain away all the hassle and lies and convolutions.

And Jonas, as always, would understand.

Jonas still couldn’t believe how much it cost to rent an uncomfortable penguin suit for one measly night. It was worth it, though. For Cagney. A mixture of excitement and dread swirled inside him as he pulled his mom’s decrepit Monte Carlo into the circular drive in front of her house, half expecting her father to come smashing out of the door, shotgun in hand. He turned off the engine and waited, holding his breath. Nothing happened.

He studied the front of the imposing, impeccable stone house trying not to compare it to his and mom’s shabby mobile home with its loose metal siding and squeaky porch stairs. Still, this house might be big, impressive from the outside, but he knew from Cagney how little love resided within its walls. He’d take his troubled but sweet mom and their rented trailer any day of the week.

To his surprise, the Bishops’ porch light flicked on. He didn’t know whether to take that as welcome or warning, but one thing was sure—stalling in the driveway would get him nowhere fast.

Blowing out a breath, he retrieved the orchid wrist corsage he’d picked up for Cagney at the grocery store florist and stepped out of the car. He took a moment to button his jacket and smooth his hair before heading toward the porch.

Now or never, he supposed.

The front door opened before he ever got a chance to ring the doorbell, and Chief Bishop stepped out, scowling as usual. Jonas honestly didn’t know what he’d ever done to make the man despise him so much. He cleared his throat and squared his shoulders. “Sir.”

“Don’t ‘sir’ me.” The man’s eyebrows dipped into a deep V. “What do you think you’re doing setting foot on my property?”

For a moment, the sheer rudeness of the question threw Jonas, and he couldn’t formulate a response. Cagney hadn’t been at school, nor had she returned any of his many phone calls or e-mails, but surely by now Chief Bishop knew who her prom date was. His mouth went dry, and he moistened his lips with a flick of his tongue to bolster his waning courage. “I’m here to pick up Cagney for the prom.”

The older man’s laughter fell to the stone floor of the porch like shattering icicles, cold and sharp. He stood, legs apart, arms crossed over his wide chest. “Hate to burst your bubble, but Cagney left for the prom half an hour ago with her date, Tad Rivers. And her friends. Go on home now. Get.”

Jonas blinked twice, scarcely believing what he’d just heard. “That’s impossible. Cagney’s my girlfriend,” he blurted without thinking. “We have a date.”

“Your girlfriend.” Chief chewed on that. “Let me give you a bit of friendly advice, son. You want a girlfriend, you need to set your sights a little lower than my daughter. She’s too good for you. Always has been, always will be.”

Jonas felt the cruel sting, but he hiked his chin. Chief Bishop knew nothing about who Cagney was or what she wanted. “She loves me. And I love her.”

“You love her?” The bastard’s eyes widened. “You best show that love by staying the hell out of her way, then. Isn’t there a little gal in that trailer park of yours you can date?” he said, imbuing the word with oily innuendo. “Whatever you’re trying to get from my daughter is probably freely available in that encampment of yours.”

Despite his best efforts, fury flamed inside Jonas. He’d never misused Cagney, and he never would. Beneath the stupid expensive tux, he began to sweat. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. I respect Cagney more than you ever have. I know she’s here. Let me see her.” He went to bypass the old man to get to the door, but a big hand on his chest held him back. “Cagney!” he yelled.

The hand became a fist, wadding his freshly pressed shirt into a mass of wrinkles as Chief Bishop lifted him slightly off his feet. “Go ahead, you little scumbag. Try to enter my house uninvited,” Chief growled through clenched teeth. “Arresting you for trespassing would be the perfect satisfying cap to my evening.”

Jonas lost his fight, and the older man took the opportunity to shove him back.

He staggered, then caught himself on the railing. Grasping on to his remaining dignity by a thread, Jonas tried in vain to smooth his shirt. “How can you live with so much hate inside you?” He couldn’t quite keep the quaver out of his voice.

The old man ignored his question. “Cagney did leave you a letter before she and Tad headed for the dance. Good kid, that Tad Rivers,” Chief mused. “Good family.” He allowed a moment for the comment to slice into Jonas like a rusty knife before pulling an envelope from his back pocket and holding it out. “I suppose you deserve to read it since she wrote it. Against my advice, mind you. My daughter owes you no explanation.”

Explanation of what? Jonas’s mind raced, and an icy sense of dread trickled through him. Eying the man warily, Jonas stepped forward and snatched the envelope. He tore into it, hoping for some clue as to why their planned “united front” had fallen so far by the wayside. Why hadn’t she returned his calls? Made some attempt to warn him that all hell had busted loose? They’d always protected each other.

He scanned the letter quickly, recognized Cagney’s writing. And the page had been torn from her favorite school notebook, the one with paper lined in purple that smelled of grapes if you rubbed it.

Bracing himself, Jonas read:

Dear Jonas:

I would’ve told you sooner, but I just didn’t know how. You’re a nice guy and you’ve been a good friend, but Tad and I started talking a few months ago, and I fell in love with him. It just … happened. It’s easier on me, too, because Chief approves. I hope you understand …

He couldn’t bear to read another agonizing word in front of Chief Bishop. The man’s gloating was nearly palpable, and the pain in Jonas’s heart was too intense. He crumpled the letter in one hand and stared off to the side. After a moment, he glared at the smug man before him. “You did this.”

“Cut the paranoia, boy. I had nothing to do with it. Read the letter. Cagney made her choice.” His tone smoothed into an arrogant purr. “It’s for the best.”

“When have you ever known what was best for Cagney or any of your daughters?” Jonas snapped, his voice hoarse with tears he could hardly hold back. “None of them can stand you, and everyone in this town knows it.”

Chief Bishop’s face reddened. “You have your damned letter, now get the hell off my property. And don’t let me see you here ever again.”

“Don’t worry,” Jonas tossed over his shoulder as he spun and took the steps two at a time, his world collapsing around him.

But, no more.

If ever there was a last straw, he’d just received it.

It’s easier on me, too, because Chief approves. Chief approves.

Approval.

He’d exhausted himself trying to attain that ever-elusive approval, with zero luck. Facts were facts: this town had been nothing but unwelcoming, if not downright hostile, to him and his mom from the moment they’d made the mistake of setting foot in it.

Just today, the owner of one of the bars Mom frequented kicked her out because she was two dollars short for her tab.

Two measly dollars. Literally.

The man left his mom humiliated and sobbing on the curb, as if she hadn’t poured enough money into that dive over the years. Jonas might not approve of his mother’s behavior, but she was kind and broken and vulnerable, and her coping skills weren’t the best, to put it mildly.

Now this.

All he and Mom had was each other.

That much was crystal clear.

The Gulch? Jonas was done with the whole damn place. Done. He might be poor, but he was whip smart and motivated, unlike so many of his classmates. He’d taken enough credits that he’d technically graduated in December, but had held out to go through the spring ceremony with Cagney.

His gut cramped.

As things stood, the school could send him his diploma, or keep it, for all he cared, because he never wanted to see any of his fellow students again, and that included Cagney. The only good thing about Troublesome Gulch had been her, and unbelievably, even their relationship turned out to be a lie.

Pain unlike any he’d ever felt seared through him. He needed to escape this hellhole as soon as possible. That was the benefit of living in a minuscule month-to-month rental, though. Not much to pack. If he had anything to say about it, he and his mother would be boxed up and out of this nightmare town tonight, and he’d never look back. He’d find a place for them to live where people judged you for what was in your heart, not your bank account. He’d work and he’d study and he’d show them all just how wrong they were about him.

One day, so help him God …

Jonas chucked the orchid corsage out of his window, clear plastic container and all, then spun gravel leaving the Bishop property. Who cared if doing so meant another point against him with Chief? None of that mattered anymore.

The prepaid cell phone he’d scrimped and saved for rang, and a stupid spark of hope had him wrestling it from his jacket to check the caller ID. Maybe, just maybe—

Tad Rivers.

Betrayal lanced through him, stealing his breath.

He ignored the rings and waited until the secondary tone told him he had a new message, then dialed in to listen to it.

Cagney.

From Tad’s phone.

Stars swirled in his head. So, it was true. All of it. She’d gone with Tad and didn’t even tell him. She’d let him waste money on a tux and flowers, then humiliate himself in front of Chief. How could she, of all people, do that to him?

“Jonas,” the message said, “please, please answer your phone. I want to talk to you about this. To explain. I’ll call you back. Okay? Please answer.”

Yeah, she’d call him back. Sure she would.

From Tad Rivers’s phone.

With his temples pounding, he glanced down at the letter that had nearly ripped the heart from his chest. Tears blurred his vision, and he wiped angrily at them with the back of one hand.

Done. Finished. Finito.

The words on those pages were all the explanation he needed from Cagney Bishop, now or ever.

Hadn’t his mom always told him love couldn’t be trusted?