Chasing Shade Part 12

'I know.' She smiled. 'Once I hit here, I knew I was in trouble. There was no reason for him to follow me down here near the abandoned houses. No good reason, anyway.'

Beyond the posts and the sign was a thick wood riddled with cast-off furniture and trash. She watched him studying it. 'It was like that and worse then. And lots of homeless folks in there. We'd always been warned not to use it, not even as a short cut, because you just never knew who was in there. But d.a.m.n...' She put her head down again. 'I should have done it anyway.'

'You had very little time to react. You did what you thought was right. You had a shot. But he took a bigger risk. He stopped you.'

'He did stop me,' she said. 'He stopped me and he got me and I failed.'

'You were a kid,' Archie said.

'Seventeen.'

'Like I said, a kid.'

She c.o.c.ked her head. 'When you're seventeen it doesn't feel like being a kid.'

'Of course not,' Archie said. 'But it is.'

'He got me in the back,' she said. 'I remember the car smelled like mangoes and cigarettes.'

She was walking towards his truck, back the way they'd come. But every foot or so she'd stop and stare at the faded, buckled macadam as if she were looking for forensic evidence of her past.

'That's an odd combination,' Archie said, following.

'Yeah. And I remember thinking how strange it was that I even noticed. I asked about it later, when I was in the hospital and the cops came to get my statement. They said Miller was a heavy, heavy smoker. One of those people who was always trying to quit.'

Archie nodded but said nothing. He got close to her, put his hand on the small of her back. Part of him wondered how they'd got here so fast. How they'd gone from strangers to whatever this was. This closeness. This willingness to bare their souls to one another. Whatever the reason, he didn't want to interrupt the magic. She needed this. He needed to give her an ear and a shoulder to get her through it.

She toed a deep crack in the road. 'And he apparently kept those wax things. Those little discs? He kept them in the car. I guess he thought he was covering the smell. Or it was supposed to discourage him from smoking. I have no idea.'

She laughed. 'To this day I can't eat mangoes. Oddly, the smell of cigarettes doesn't bother me. Probably because virtually everyone in my childhood was a smoker.'

Archie followed her as she walked back towards the main road. She pa.s.sed his truck and he went along. Betsey rubbed her forehead, the place where she had a scar from her abduction. 'We need to go,' she said, 'to the place where the woman saw me saved me.'

'Did you ever get her name?' he asked, curious.

'I did. Tania Drummond. She saved my life.'

He took her hand. 'I'm thankful for Tania Drummond,' Archie said.

'Me too,' Betsey said. 'Not that I didn't valiantly try to undo her good works for several years after.'

He must have looked confused. She said, 'Booze, drugs, an overdose, being on the streets at all hours with all kinds of people. You name it, I did it.'

'You're not the first survivor to '

She cut him off. 'An excuse is just an excuse, Archie. I was a junkie and I was spiralling out of control.'

He shut his mouth. Squeezed her hand and waited to see where she needed to go next.

'I wonder if I'll give my consent by not protesting his possible release?' she said, almost to herself.

He didn't say anything. He wondered too.

Chapter 16.

This was the intersection where she got a reprieve from being a true victim, Betsey thought. Her hands were clammy so, when Archie tried to take one, she pulled away. 'Don't,' she said. 'They're gross.' She wiped her palms on her jeans and sat there, staring.

'I remember being so utterly terrified I couldn't breathe. I think I was hyperventilating. I couldn't get enough air so I just kept sucking it in. My head was swimming. And I...saw her. Her big, round, surprised face. Something I was doing wasn't even aware of or something in my demeanour. Something drew her initial attention. Maybe I had my forehead pressed to the window and I was crying. I know I was crying. I remember crying...'

He took her hand and when she tried to pull away he held it fast. 'Don't, Betsey,' he said. 'I don't care.'

'I remember seeing her notice me. They said she noticed me because I was banging my head. That's not true. I banged my head so she'd notice me more. I banged my head so she'd know without a doubt. But there was still a chance he'd play it off. Like I told you...maybe I was special, maybe I had issues. Maybe, maybe, maybe. There was no guarantee she'd help me.'

She sobbed and squeezed his hand in return when he squeezed hers. She sobbed a second time, but she just kept going, because she had to get it out. Like expelling poison. Like spitting out rotten food. There was no option but to get it out.

'It hurts,' she said, laughing.

Archie laughed with her. An uncomfortable, painful sound. But he laughed. His thumb sweeping back and forth on her skin as he continued to hold her hand.

'Banging your f.u.c.king head on gla.s.s. Safety gla.s.s. It's the same as banging it on a wall. But I had to...save myself,' she whispered.

'And you did.'

'I did,' she said. 'I did...And so did she.'

'Have you seen her since?' Archie asked.

'No. I heard, not long after I got my head on sort of straight and Uncle Abe gave me the Pink Lady, she was diagnosed with breast cancer. I heard from him, a year or so ago, that she'd died. I owed her my life. I owed her my grat.i.tude.'

'I'm sure you gave it.'

'I didn't.' Shame burned through her.

'The act of doing it is enough, Betsey. And the knowledge that you were still alive probably helped her through the rest of her life.'

'I didn't show my grat.i.tude,' she repeated, feeling stubborn. He didn't understand.

She would know he was waiting for her to be ready to go. Staying silent. Letting her process. He whispered to her, lips to her ear, 'I can't insinuate myself into your grief or your pain. I can grasp it as a concept but not feel it in my soul the way you are, Betsey.'

Those words made her love him a little bit. A little bit more than she feared she already did.

'Can we stop at the florist up the road?' she asked.

'We can stop anywhere you want,' he said.

They found the old flower shop and Betsey was saddened to see that iron security bars had been fitted over the larger windows. Inside she found an old woman with long white hair. Her hair was intricately braided and then put up in an even more intricate twist. She greeted them with a small smile. Her arthritis-knotted hands worked nimbly on stripping leaves and thorns from the stems of yellow roses.

'Do you have any idea what flower represents grat.i.tude?' Betsey said softly.

'Of course.' The woman, whose name-tag read 'Helen', smiled more widely. 'The language of flowers is lovely. I try to know as much as I can. I don't know it all yet, but I still have time to learn. I'm still a spring chicken.' She winked. 'Dwarf sunflowers represent grat.i.tude.'

'Do you have any?'

'I do. How many would you like?'

'Eight.' Betsey turned to Archie. 'One for every year that came after that horrible day.'

'Who are these for, honey?' The woman bustled past with a wrapper and some tissue paper. She began to select flowers, working briskly.

'A woman who saved me. A woman who's gone now,' Betsey said solemnly.

'Hmm. Well, let's see. I can add some blue salvia. It basically means, I'm thinking of you.'

Betsey nodded. She felt like she was falling down though she was standing straight. Her sudden grief for Tania Drummond burrowed through her and settled in her bones. 'I'd like that.' Together, Betsey and Archie followed Helen as she worked.

The purplish blue looked lovely with the orangey yellow of the dwarf sunflowers. Helen held it up, turning the bouquet to study it. 'Needs some green,' she said. She looked over a pair of half-moon gla.s.ses she'd put on as she worked. 'Might I suggest some sprigs of rosemary? Not exactly traditional greenery but it is for remembrance. Something that fits the message of our bouquet.'

Betsey nodded. She felt weak with emotion so she took Archie's hand and squeezed it.

The woman added the greens and wrapped a white bow around the bouquet. She handed it to Betsey. 'What do you think?'

Betsey smiled, stroking a length of fragrant rosemary. 'It's perfect,' she said. 'Thank you. How much do I owe you?'

'Nothing. Take it with my best wishes.'

'Oh, I can't,' Betsey said. 'I can't just take it.'

'You can and you will,' Helen said. 'I live my life by a specific rule.'

'Rule?' Betsey asked. Her finger danced over the silken flower petals.

'I try to do one truly good thing a day. This bouquet is my good thing. I hope it helps you remember her.'

Betsey swallowed hard against impending tears. 'I can't thank you enough.'

Helen patted her hand. 'Oh, you have. I think anyone who takes the time to do something like this is a good person. Being a good person is thanks enough.'

Archie took her arm to lead her out. Betsey gave in to her urge to give Helen a fast hug. The woman chuckled and patted her back. 'Be well, honey.'

On the way out the door they paused before a donation box for the local animal shelter. Next to the box were pictures of various pets at adoption events. Helen was in many of the pictures, clearly a volunteer. Archie took a ten from his pocket and shoved it in the box. 'One good thing a day,' he said to her and winked.

Outside, she took a deep breath. Archie kissed her. It was a soft kiss that made her toes curl. She smiled. It made her happy when he kissed her, even if she wasn't feeling particularly happy to begin with. 'We need to find the cemetery,' she said.

'No problem. I saw the sign for it on the way in,' Archie said. 'We'll find it.'

'Don't suppose you have a GPS,' she said with a laugh.

'Um...yeah. She got that in the divorce.'

'I saw a gas station up on the corner,' Betsey said.

'We can stop and ask.' Archie unlocked the truck and they got in.

'You really are a miracle,' she said.

'Why's that?'

'A man who will stop and ask for directions is definitely a miracle,' she said. In the cab of the truck, she leaned in and kissed him. It was a sweet kiss. But it was also needy. She needed him here. She wanted him here. He was becoming very important to her.

And it scared her.

Chapter 17.

The winding road to the cemetery led his truck farther down the hill. They'd stopped at the office on their way in and Betsey had found the plot number for Tania Drummond. She was now clutching a white copy of a map of the grounds with a highlighted route.

When they found her plot, he pulled to the side. The cemetery was wide and sweeping. It was well kept and, despite the fact that it was November, the lawn was tidy. Not many fallen leaves to be seen. The trees that were still hanging on dotted the horizon with a patchwork of yellow, red and orange. The wind whipped around the gravestones, vicious and biting. It was getting colder.

He took the flowers from Betsey as she climbed out of the truck's cab. 'Aren't you glad you came with me?' she said, laughing. Her teeth smacked together in the beginning of a chatter.

Archie tugged her close and pulled her coat around her tighter. He hugged her to get her warm, marvelling at the feel of her curvy soft body against his. He'd never have pictured himself here when he headed down that two-lane road towards the diner. But now he couldn't picture himself anywhere else.

Betsey hugged him back. Clutching at him so hard he thought she might be crying again. But when she pulled back she was dry-eyed and smiling. 'I need to do this,' she said.

'I know.'

'I'm warning you.'

'Warning me?' He tucked her hair behind her ear and the wind immediately blew and tossed it back in her face. When she spoke, her breath was like a white ghost made of mist.

'I need to talk. To say things to her. To...I need to get it out.'

'I know.'