Heart of Stone Page 13

“Mom, you can’t just stop like that.”

  “I’m fine. I was thinking about making some spaghetti tonight. What do you think?”

  I straightened and stared down at her. “We’ll have to go see the doctor then, Mom. He’ll find you something else to take.”

  “For what? I don’t understand, dear, why you’re so upset. I’m perfectly fine.” She smiled and sipped her sweet coffee.

  “Oh, Mom, if only it was fine. If only we could just capture these last few minutes and keep repeating them over and over again. But we can’t.” I kissed her forehead and headed out to work on the yard and wait for that damn storm.

  Chapter 21

  Hunter

  “Ferncreek Road? You’re taking me to the old Kingston place. Why the hell are we going to visit that ancient ruin?” I asked.

  Colt grinned. “You’ll see. While you are moping around the house, crying about all your bad luck, your little brother has been planning and hustling and thinking.”

  “I know that’s supposed to sound promising but it’s doesn’t. Hey, Rincon left me a message to call him today. I hear he wants us to come back. He couldn’t find anyone else to work his water route.”

  “Not interested,” Colt said sharply.

  “Really, cuz I was sort of thinking that I’d like to be able to at least eat this next month. Especially because I don’t have too much else going on in my life. At least I can shovel burritos and pizza in my face and give myself a fucking heart attack.”

  “Don’t give me that bullshit. You’ve got a chunk of change saved up just like me, and it’s time to start putting that money to work. What did the insurance company say about the bike?”

  A disgusted laugh spurted from my mouth. “Can’t get enough to replace the damn tires let alone the bike. But I’d already figured that. I wasn’t paying enough premium to get it replaced. I’d figured if I totaled the thing, I’d be dead too so it wouldn’t matter. Never expected some jackasses to run it down with their jeep.”

  “What about those guys?”

  “It’s done. I broke the guy’s face and took plenty of their money. I told Fletch I’d be avoiding his poker games from now on.”

  He turned up the long driveway to the property. The Kingston house was a decaying fossil of a house. Admittedly, it had character and looked like an old Victorian home you’d see in a gothic horror flick, but it had been boarded up for so long it was a wonder that it hadn’t just turned to dust and disappeared. The Kingston family had owned a successful fleet of fishing boats and they’d had big money back when our dad was a kid. But health problems, divorce and one of the sons landing in jail for murder had destroyed the family fortune. The place had landed in the care of a distant cousin. But he had no money or time to keep the place up. For awhile he’d tried to sell it at an extra high price, but the economy in the area had been bad and there had been no takers.

  “Don’t tell me you’re thinking of buying this shit hole to fix up.”

  Colt nodded. “Actually, I’m thinking that both of us, and Slade if he’s interested, should buy this shit hole. We could fix it up and sell it.”

  “You’ve lost your fucking mind.”

  “Probably.” He parked the car and we got out.

  Weeds had choked off the brick path leading to the front doors. Colt tramped over them and I followed.

  “I’m half expecting some ghost to float out of one of those dormer windows,” I said.

  “I think that just adds to the character of the place.”

  “Yeah, it also makes it a realtor’s nightmare.”

  He swept his arm around. “Million dollar view, buddy. We fix this place up to its former glory, and it could turn a solid profit. I’ve already talked to the cousin who owns it. He’s ready to do a cash deal to avoid realtor fees and shit.”

  “It’ll cost a fortune to fix.”

  “Probably, but we could do a lot of the work ourselves. What do you say, bro? Now that I’m with Jade, I need to turn myself around. And you and Amy—” he stopped. “Anyhow, I think this could be good. I’m done with going out on the water never knowing if we’re going to come back. I don’t want to do jail time either. I’ve got someone I need to take care of now. I’m done trying to trash my life by doing illegal shit. Even our asshole dad worked for a living.”

  I looked his direction. “Have you been talking to Amy or something? She was handing me that same line.”

  “Because it’s true.”

  I looked at the house. Wood was rotted, glass was broken and the facade seemed to be screaming for a merciful death. I glanced at Colt. He was excited about this. For more than two years, I’d been dragging him out on the drug runs. I’d been in charge of my brothers since I was eighteen. I’d been thrown unwillingly into the role of father when I’d never had a model of what a good dad should look like. The only thing I had learned was that everything my dad had done, his beatings, his iron fist control, was wrong. So I’d done the opposite. My brothers and me had basically run fucking wild doing whatever the hell we liked. We’d been freed from a horrible prison once the old man had kicked. The chains had come off, and we could do whatever we wanted. Only the lines between right and wrong had always been blurred. So many times, our dad had tried to beat what he’d called ‘sense’ into us, but he’d never told us what that ‘sense’ was.

  I took hold of the porch railing and gave it a shake. It wobbled. “Feels like the whole house might come down with it.” I glanced back at Colt. “It’s going to take a lot of fucking work.”

  “Yep. I’m looking forward to it.”

  I took a deep breath. “I’m in.”

  Chapter 22

  Amy

  Things had been smooth as cream for a day. My mom had busied herself cleaning every drawer and closet in the house, and she’d gone through her entire catalog of show tunes. But, by evening, right as I was getting ready for work, the humming, closet cleaner was starting to see small green bugs on the kitchen wall. I’d had no choice but to go to work. A cancelled shift was too much of a money loss. I’d made her a grilled cheese and then tucked her into her bed to watch television. She’d been dozing soundly by the time I picked up my keys to leave.

  Thankfully, she was still fast asleep when I got home. I plopped down in my dad’s chair and turned on the television. My phone buzzed. It was Hunter.

  “Hey, I’m here with the Bozo twins playing video games and eating pizza. I heard your buzzing little car pull in. Why don’t you come over?”

  In his head, he’d squared away everything between us by ignoring all the stuff I’d brought up. As far as he was concerned, everything should just stay as it was. Hunter was good at ignoring anything that might take too much time or emotion or thinking. Because he’d lost his motorcycle, I’d dropped the subject for now. My own selfish need to be part of his life in some way had helped me to drop it too. But deep down, the constant ache was still there, chipping away at my heart and soul.

  “I need to hang out here. My mom sort of decided to just drop her meds cold turkey, and I’m waiting for all the damn shoes to drop. I’m kind of tired anyhow. But save me some cold pizza for tomorrow.”

  “Yeah, right. Slade’s here, so I’m pretty sure there won’t be anything but a few crusts left.” He paused. “Hey, Street, if you need me just call. I’m only about thirty steps away.”

  I couldn’t figure out exactly why his last words impacted me so much, but my throat clamped up and I could barely say the word bye. I hung up and glanced out the window toward their house. The light from their television flickered through the thin curtains on their front window. I leaned back in the easy chair and rested my head. It had always been a comfort having the Stone brothers so close. I never felt alone or unsafe with them just a few yards away.

  Light footsteps padded down the hallway and my mom emerged. She once again had the flamingo beach towel wrapped around her bathrobe. Her face was down, and she was muttering about something. They were back. Her inner demons, the v
oices that plagued her night and day, were back.

  “Mom, do you want me to make you something to eat?”

  She ignored me and continued on her mission, whatever the hell that mission was. She went into the kitchen for a few minutes and cradled something in her hands as she walked back through.

  I was bone tired and didn’t even lift my head from the chair as she shuffled back through. Then, unexpectedly, she stopped just before disappearing back down the hallway. She turned to me, and the rational, clearheaded expression from this morning flashed across her face. “Whatever you do, sweetheart, my beautiful Amy, chase happiness no matter how long it takes.” Then her shoulders rolled forward. She shut the towel tighter around herself and whatever snack she’d grabbed from the kitchen, and she plodded back to her room.

  I watched the empty doorway wondering if in my groggy state, I’d just imagined those last few seconds.

  I rested my head back. My lids felt heavy from the long day. I let sleep take me away from reality.

  ***

  It was a crackling sound that woke me. As I urged my mind out of the dream I’d been having, I tried to reconcile the sound with anything I’d ever heard before. But I couldn’t. A loud snapping sound made me jolt forward. The haze in the room was not in my head. It was smoke. Not a burnt toast or singed popcorn smoke. It was a horrible, acrid smoke as if chemicals and fabrics and things were being consumed by fire.

  I jumped up. The darkness in the hallway had been replaced by a thick gray mist. I raced to my mom’s door and grabbed the doorknob. It was hot but I wrapped my fingers around it and turned it. The door didn’t budge. I’d removed the lock long ago, but something was blocking it and keeping it from opening.

  “Mom!” I pounded on the door. “Mom, let me in!” I jammed my shoulder against it and pushed with all my weight. Whatever was on the other side weighed more than me. It was as if she had moved all her furniture in front of the door. Smoke curled up from beneath the door like vicious gray fingers, teasing me, letting me know that I had no chance to get in.

  I stepped back and ran toward the door. I rammed the door and sharp pain tore through my shoulder. I kicked the door again. “Mom, go out the window!” I screamed.

  A sound behind me made me spin around. It was the drapes in the front room. The flames had crawled up and over the roof. Fire was taking the whole house. Heat and smoke filled the narrow hallway. As I ran for the front door, Dad’s old easy chair, the place I had just been sleeping, burst into flames. Fire quickly traveled from the front window drapes to the faded green curtains on the front door.

  I raced to the kitchen. The window hadn’t been opened in years, and it was glued shut like cement. Panic and shock made me freeze. I had no idea which way to go. The flames were winning, and I couldn’t seem to outpace them.

  I was struggling to breathe, and my eyes watered from the smoke. I stooped down. I needed to get to my bedroom and out to the yard so I could get to my mom’s window. The smoke and heat in the hallway were so bad I had to feel my hands along the walls. Paint was blistering off the plaster. I couldn’t catch a decent breath. I yanked my shirt up over my mouth and nose, but it did little to filter the air. It felt as if all the oxygen in the house had been replaced by bitter, pungent chemical smells.

  Dizziness overwhelmed me, and I dropped to my knees to crawl. The pain in my shoulder made my right arm weak, and I had to pull myself along with my left. But I could no longer see where I was going. I smacked my head hard on the edge of the bathroom door.

  “Mom,” I cried weakly. Tears flowed from my eyes. I was suffocating. I curled into a ball and waited for the flames to take me.

  Chapter 23

  Hunter

  “What the hell are you burning, Slade?” I called from the dark of my room. I shook off the sleep and sat up.

  “Holy shit!” Slade yelled. “Amy’s house is on fire.”

  I shot out of bed and pulled on my jeans. I grabbed my shoes on the way out the door and hopped into them as I raced across the front yard. Several of the neighbors had stumbled out of their houses too. Mr. Ames, who lived across the street, was on the phone calling the fire department. Flames were already shooting up from the roof, and the whole house was surrounded by smoke. Slade reached the front porch just ahead of me.

  My heart was pounding so hard I could feel it in my throat. Slade reached for the doorknob, but his hand flew off. “Fuck! It’s too hot.”

  “Get out of the way,” I yelled. Slade moved aside, and I ran at the door and kicked it in. It was half melted by the heat and peeled away from its hinges. Blinding smoke billowed out.

  “They’re on their way,” Mr. Ames called from the front yard. “You boys can’t go in there.”

  I hadn’t had time to pull on a shirt, so I covered my nose and mouth with my forearm and forged through the smoke and fire. It was hard to see anything, but I heard Slade’s footsteps right behind me. The front room was engulfed in flames. The heat seared my shoulders and arms.

  “You with me, Slade?” I called, no longer able to see more than a foot in front of me.

  “I’m with you. Fuck, I can’t breathe. Where is she?”

  “Amy!” I yelled. There was no response. All I could think was— if she was dead then I’d just follow her right into the flames. I wasn’t going to make it without her. No way to live without her.

  Slade had broken into a coughing fit behind me.

  “You all right?” My voice was being choked off by the bitter ashes in my throat.

  He put his hand on my shoulder. “I can see the white edge of the hallway door.” He turned my shoulder in the right direction, and we pushed through the blistering heat. The entire house was a furnace, and somewhere inside the raging hell was my angel.

  “Amy!” I called.

  Then, somehow, through the clamor of wood and rafters falling in on each other, I heard a small cry. I waved my arms around to clear the smoke. There, curled up in a corner of the hallway was the girl I loved. “Amy, fucking hell, baby.” I couldn’t remember the last time I’d cried. I’d learned to turn off tears when I was a kid because they’d only made my dad swing his belt harder.

  I grabbed her up in my arms, and she clung to me.

  “Where’s your mom?”

  She wriggled to free herself from my arms. “My mom, she’s still in her room. She blocked the door.” Her sobs were strangled by a coughing fit. I handed her off to Slade. “Take her outside now.”

  “No, man.” Slade’s voice wavered. “You need to get out too.”

  “I’ll be right out.” A large slice of the family room ceiling lost its tenuous grip on the beams. It fell to the floor right next to us. Sparks flicked off of Slade’s arms as he held tightly to Amy.

  “Get her out of here!” I yelled.

  Slade dashed through the ashes and flames and out of the house. I forged a path through the smoke back to the hallway. I reached her mom’s bedroom door. It was too hot to touch. I braced myself against the opposite wall, the searing plaster was blistering the skin on my back as I shoved the door with both feet. The heat and smoke and lack of air in my lungs made it take several good pushes. More smoke billowed out from her room. I lowered my face and squeezed inside. I shoved the dresser away from the door. The bed was completely engulfed in flames.

  I stumbled back to avoid being caught up by them and tripped hard over something. My tailbone smacked the dresser. I swept the smoke from in front of my face, and through the hazy clearing, I saw Amy’s mom stretched out on the floor. Her robe was singed and her face was still as death. I jumped up and swept her up into my arms. She felt like a ragdoll, lifeless and filled with cotton. I could hear sirens growing louder. Red spinning lights lit up the curtain of smoke, making it glow red like the surrounding flames.

  My chest, throat and eyes burned as if someone was taking a blowtorch to them. I crossed the front room in four big steps. The outside air, even clouded with smoke, felt like cool water rushing over my singed skin. F
ire trucks and the flashing lights of police lit up the street making the whole damn scene like a clip from a movie.

  The top two steps were glowing with heat. I stepped over them and busted through the shield of ash and smoke that circled the house. Dozens of people had gathered on the sidewalk and street to watch. There was yelling and the firemen were calling orders to each other. A loud cheer went up as I stepped onto the front lawn. I could hear Amy’s small cry as it squeaked through the chaos.

  My eyes followed the direction of the sound. She was yanking off her oxygen mask. She pushed away the restraining hand of the medic and came racing toward me. Her mom hadn’t moved one muscle since I’d picked her up from the floor. When my mom had died of an overdose in her bed, I had grabbed her and tried to make her sit up. I was a kid, and in my shock I’d convinced myself that if I sat her up, she’d start breathing again. But as I’d held her, I knew I was holding death. I looked down at the woman in my arms. I was holding death again.

  Amy leaned down over her mom’s face and kissed her. “Mom, wake up.” She patted her ash covered face. “Mom.”

  A medic took her from my arms. He was a big guy, maybe thirty and the look he shot me as he took Amy’s mom from me assured me he knew what holding death felt like too. He carried her to the waiting gurney.

  “I was so scared—” she sobbed as she fell into my arms. “Hunter—” her words broke off.

  I led her down to the ambulances. Slade was sitting on the back of one getting some burns treated and wearing an oxygen mask.

  He looked at me over the mask. I shook my head just slightly, not wanting to let Amy see. She held tightly to my arm but was in too much shock to notice. But Slade saw. He dropped his face and his shoulders sank down.

  Mr. Ames walked up to us. We hadn’t spoken in a long time. He was one of the neighbors who liked to look the other way when one of us drove up.

  He stood in front of me and looked me right in the eye for the first time. He looked pretty shaken. “It’s funny, you form an opinion of someone and then something, ignorance, I suppose, makes it stick as if it is written in stone. I’m sorry, boys. I had it all wrong.” He stuck out his hand for me to shake. I took it. “We should have done more—” he said with a crack in his voice. “Back when you boys were young—” He turned his face for a second.