Nicole Young - Kiss Me If You Dare

I did more math. This Mallory was twenty-two. I’d been eleven years old when she was born, still hollow from the grief of losing my mother.

I clamped a vice on my pipeline of thought, cutting it off. There was no sense taking my ire out on the girls. They were victims like me. I’d save my resentment for the head muck-a-muck himself, our father.

“Where can I find Dad, anyway?” I’d better warn him, give him a piece of my mind, then get out of here before all our lives were ruined.

“Mom and Dad are both working shifts today,” Mo-nique said. “Dad said if you came over, I should invite you to dinner and he’d talk about things then.”

“I’d just love to catch up on old times with Dear Old Dad over supper, but I really need to get a hold of him right away.”

The girls just sat and stared at me.

“Seriously,” I said. “Right now if you want him to live.”

Monique stood. “Come on. I’ll take you over there.”

Monique looked at her younger sister. “You stay here.”

I shook my head. “No, she can’t stay by herself. Just in case.”

Monique sighed. “Fine.”

We scrunched three across the bench seat of a smallmodel pickup.

Monique put the truck in gear. “It’s just a few minutes to the plant.”

We curved through the streets and onto Churchill Falls Road. A few minutes later, a forest of metal towers connected by wires appeared on the horizon.

Meagan pointed. “That’s the switchyard. The power goes all over from there. Even to the States.”

“Cool,” I said, not really interested in anything other than getting to my father before his assailant.

Monique turned at a sign. CHURCHILL FALLSGENERAING STATION, it said. A digital board told passers-by the current megawatt output. I assumed the numbers were meant to impress.

A few minutes later, we parked near a building that looked like a couple shoe boxes topped with an oatmeal canister. Scattered across the snowy grounds, sharp posts poked skyward.

“Come on,” Monique said, taking charge.

I grabbed my purse and slid out of the truck.

“You don’t have a gun in there or anything, do you? We have to clear security,” Monique said.

“Ummmm, I think I’ll leave my purse in the car.” I tucked my passport in my jeans pocket, then flipped my handbag to the floor of the truck and joined the sisters on a walk toward the building.

A group had gathered in a central area, apparently waiting for a tour of the facility.

“Come on,” Monique said. “Mom’s working control.” We stopped for an ID check.

“Who’s your friend, Monique?” the employee asked.

“Believe it or not, she’s my sister. Details later, okay?” We left the woman sputtering.

“That’s Aunt Veronica. Won’t she be surprised to hear about you,” Monique remarked as the three of us took off down meandering hallways.

Red carpet paved the floor of a room that resembled the bridge of the Starship Enterprise.

“Mom,” Monique said as we entered.

At her voice, Suzette Jamison and a fellow employee glanced up from the bank of buttons and dials.

Suzette stiffened when she saw me. “Hello, Tasha.”

I gave a nod. “I’m sure you’ve figured out by now that it’s Patricia.”

“Yes. So it is.” She walked toward us. “Roger is working down in the powerhouse today. He thought we could get together over supper to discuss…,” her hand searched the air, “… whatever it is you wanted to discuss.”

I couldn’t blame her for wanting to wall me out of her life. “Thank you for the invitation, but I can’t wait until supper. I really need to talk to him right away.”

“His shift ends at-”

Monique cut her off. “Mom. It’s seriously important. Take us down there. Please.”

Hands on her hips, Suzette gave a sigh. She looked toward her partner at the controls. “Can you man the helm while I take care of a family emergency?”

The worker nodded. “Take your time. Everything’s normal on the board.”

“Thanks, Pete.” She followed the carpet out the door. “This isn’t exactly protocol,” she murmured as we hastened to keep up with her. She swung a finger in Monique’s direction. “You and I are going to have a little talk later.”

“Sorry, Mom. I just know how I’d want to be treated if I were in her position.”

A shelf filled with hardhats lined the wall. We sized them up and put one on. Suzette remained quiet as we waited for the elevator.

I couldn’t take the smothering silence. “This is all my fault.”

Suzette raised her eyebrows as if to say a sarcastic “really?”

I grimaced. “I should never have involved your daughters, but it’s urgent that I speak to… Roger. Monique offered to drive me here, and Meagan couldn’t stay at the house by herself, just in case.”

Suzette’s arms twisted like giant pretzels. “Just in case what?”

Meagan rushed to fill her in. “Just in case the bad man is after us. He’s coming, Mom. Patricia said he might already be in town.”

I flapped my hands in denial. “No, no. I don’t know. Maybe someone might be following me, who can say?” “Just as Roger feared,” Suzette said in a weary voice. “Please,” I said while the elevator continued its descent. “This is completely unintentional. I had no idea my dad was in Churchill Falls when I arrived.”

“Just one big coincidence,” came Suzette’s cynical reply. “I have a hard time believing that.”

“No one is more surprised than me.” My stomach began floating into my rib cage. “How far down does this thing go, anyway?”

Monique answered. “Close to three hundred meters.” She must have seen the lack of comprehension on my face. “Almost a thousand feet to you Americans.”

A fifth of a mile. That was almost half the distance from the highway to the lodge on Valentine’s Bay. One-third the distance from the bus stop in Del Gloria to the row of houses on Rios Buena Suerta. A tiny fraction of the distance that now stretched between Brad’s heart and mine.

The elevator slowed and dropped to a halt. We followed a clammy tunnel toward the sound of churning machinery. The passage opened into a cavernous room that looked as long as a football field. Chunky boxes colored red, yellow, blue, and green made a line down the center, like a Rubik’s Cube tournament for giants. Next to each square was a railed-in flight of stairs, heading below ground. The walls were home to more buttons and dials along with color-coordinated doors, each with a number lit up above.

“This is the powerhouse,” Monique explained in a voice loud enough to conquer the roar. “The electricity made here every year from harnessing the Churchill River takes a conventional power company 158 thousand barrels of oil a day to produce.”

“Kudos to the tree huggers,” I said, watching two men in hardhats walk along the far wall, wondering if one of them was my father.

“Let’s hustle, girls,” Suzette said, taking off at a brisk pace toward the other end.

Cubes passed by in a whiz of color.

Suzette slowed and hailed the men, arm held high. “Roger. We need you a minute.”

My father turned his head at his wife’s voice. His eyes met hers, skimmed over his daughters, then shot to me. For a minute he looked like he might be sick again. Somehow he fought it off. He turned to his partner, gave some kind of explanation, and walked our way.

My hands shook as he came closer. What would I say to him anyway? Hey, Dad, nice meeting you, I’d love to talk, but there’s this evil dude coming after you and we really ought to leave town for a while?

He stood in front of me, Suzette talking in one ear, his daughters in the other. I just stared. Captivated. Jacob Russo in the flesh. My father. All the heartache he’d caused my mother-driving drunk and letting her take the rap, doing drugs and not being there for her, leaving her pregnant and alone, making Mom raise me by herself-somehow I couldn’t see any of those flaws when I looked at the man under the hardhat. His eyes were as blue as Puppa’s. Same high cheekbones and rounded chin, faintly wrinkled. His eyes searched mine as if seeking acceptance. Acceptance from me . As if I might somehow hold against him all the years we’d been apart.