Brenda Novak - No One But You

His cell phone rang. Someone from the Stanley DeWitt Assisted Living Center in Los Angeles, where they’d taken his sister, was trying to reach him. He’d spoken to a member of their staff almost every day since he got home.

He needed to remove his dirty clothes and shower before he could lie down, so he finished the short journey to his room and sank into the wooden chair by the desk he’d been using to apply for the loan on the farm, handle the paperwork for assuming guardianship of Angela and create the spreadsheets that charted out the farm acreage, growth time, projected earnings and cash flow. “Hello?”

“Mr. Reed?”

He’d been legally adopted by Lonnie and Larry when he was fifteen, had used their last name ever since. He certainly didn’t want to claim the name he’d been born with. The Reeds were the only ones who’d ever given a damn about him. “Yes.”

“It’s Megan. From Stanley DeWitt.”

She’d called before. He recognized the name. “What’s going on, Megan?”

“I’m sorry to bother you again, but... I thought maybe if you spoke to your sister, she’d cooperate with me.”

Fighting the exhaustion that hung on his arms and legs like wrist and ankle weights, he covered a yawn. “What’s she doing?”

“She’s been up since six this morning, but she won’t put on her pajamas and go to bed. She insists you’re coming to get her tonight.”

“Tonight.”

“Yes. She’s waiting by the door, her purse on her arm, her coat buttoned to the top, even though it’s too warm for that in here.”

Dawson sighed as he pictured his sister stubbornly resisting the young Megan’s pleas. The image that came to mind broke his heart. Not being able to help Angela had been as bad as everything else. “Let me talk to her.”

“Yes, sir. One sec.”

“It’s your brother,” he heard as she transferred the phone.

Angela came on the line almost immediately, her voice eager. “Dawson? Where are you?”

“I’m at home, honey. I can’t come tonight. I told you I have to get the house cleaned up before they’ll let me bring you here.”

“Then clean it! Why aren’t you cleaning it?”

“I am cleaning it. I’m doing a lot of other things, too—things that take time. I need you to be patient. I’ll come for you as soon as I can. I promise.”

“Okay. I’ll wait here.” She handed the phone to Megan, but that had been too easy, so easy that Dawson knew Angela still didn’t understand. He had Megan put her right back on the line.

“It won’t be tonight,” he reiterated. “I’m not coming now. It might be as long as a week. These things take time.”

“How long is a week?”

“Seven days.”

“Seven days!” She groaned as if he’d said seven years. “That’s forever!”

“That’s how it has to be. Moving you requires some paperwork, too, and it’s the paperwork that takes the longest. They won’t let me pick you up until everything’s done.”

“But it’s been so long.” She started to cry. “I don’t like it here, Dawson. Come get me now.”

“I’ll come as soon as I can, honey. I just... I need you to listen to Megan and get ready for bed. If you cooperate, the time will go faster for everyone. Then, before you know it, you’ll be home.”

She sniffed. “Will I get to see Mom and Dad? Or are they still dead?”

Dawson scrubbed a hand over his face. She had no concept of death, of forever. She only knew that she missed the people who’d always been there for her. He missed them, too. “They’re still dead. They’ll always be dead. But I’ll take you to see their graves and try to help you understand when you get home.”

“They’ll come back,” she said, supremely confident. “I know they will.”

“They can’t, Angela.”

“Yes, they can!”

“We’ll talk about it later. For now, listen to Megan, please? Put on your pajamas and get into bed. Megan doesn’t need you to make her night difficult.”

“You’ll be here in the morning?”

“What did I tell you?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” she replied, and cried even louder.

“It’ll be a week. I’ll be there in seven days. Have Megan count them on your fingers.” He wasn’t positive he could get there in exactly seven days, which was why he’d been careful not to name a date so far. But after what they’d been through the past year, dangling a “soon” out there wasn’t comforting to her anymore. Angela needed a concrete figure, something Megan could circle on the calendar and she could look forward to in a more definite way.

He hated the thought that he might have to disappoint her at the end of the week—due to circumstances beyond his control—but it was better than disappointing her every night, like he was doing now.

“A week,” she repeated with another sniff.

“Seven days.”

“Megan? When is a week?” he heard her ask.

There was some shuffling as he heard Megan start to count, “One, two, three...”

“Seven takes too long,” Angela said, discouraged again, when Megan was finished.

“It won’t be that long. Have Megan get the calendar and show you how far Christmas is, and you’ll see that a week is soon. Very soon.”

After Megan went through the months with her, and the many, many days until Christmas, Angela finally relented. “Okay. I’ll go to bed. Tomorrow will be one day, right?”

“Yes.” He covered another yawn as Megan thanked him and disconnected. After that, he tried to get up so he could remove his boots, take off his clothes and shower—but wound up falling asleep with his head facedown on the desk.

3

Sadie passed a restless night. She hadn’t heard from Sly since their conversation at the park, but she knew he wouldn’t go about minding his own business. He’d blindside her with something, sometime, which was why she kept looking out the window, watching for his squad car. If he was working, he’d think nothing of stopping by in the middle of the night and dragging her out of bed to continue their argument—regardless of what she had to do the next day. Even if he wasn’t working, he could drop by very late. He’d done it before.

Fortunately, she didn’t hear from him. But even when she wasn’t getting up to check her windows and make sure her doors were locked, she was lying on the mattress she shared with Jayden, wondering what it was going to be like juggling two jobs for a couple of weeks. She’d be putting in long hours; it wouldn’t be easy.

She kept telling herself she’d muddle through, but the closer it came to morning, the more nervous she grew. Her shift at Lolita’s would go fast. She’d been there for three years, ever since Jayden had been potty-trained (what Sly required in order to watch him), so it had become almost second nature. She just hoped what she had to do in the afternoon wouldn’t be too difficult or upsetting. Dawson had said she’d clean the house. But no way would she let him assign her the Reeds’ bedroom. She hoped someone had already taken care of the blood that had been spilled there...

She hurried to focus on something else before she lost the nerve to go there at all. Did Dawson even have cleaning supplies? Or would she need to bring some with her?

She called him after she got up in the morning to check, before taking Jayden to Petra’s.

“Hello?” His voice, deep and filled with a bit of gravel, was easily recognizable from the few minutes she’d spent with him during the interview.

“It’s Sadie Harris.”

There was a long pause. Then he said, “Please don’t tell me you’re already calling to quit.”

She gripped her phone that much tighter. Should she? That was what Maude and Sly wanted her to do. If her parents were alive, she’d be willing to bet they, too, would weigh in on the side of keeping her distance. But, in spite of caution, she heard herself say, “No. I’m calling to see if you’d like me to pick up anything before I come.”