SIX O'CLOCK SOMEWHERE
Fifteen-year-old Brooke Merrsal stared at the electric blue numbers on her alarm clock in the darkness. 3:59 a.m. She sensed the seconds ticking down to the next minute. Her hand shot out the instant the clock turned four.
This was her favorite time of day. Most of the world still slept, but at North Oak there were horses waiting to be ridden. Horses that went really fast. With a grin, she threw back the covers and headed to the kitchen.
The house she and her grandfather shared wasn't much bigger than an apartment. Green shag carpet stretched corner to corner in the living room, reaching toward faux wood panels on the wall like out-of-place grass in a worn-down stall.
The linoleum in the kitchen was a pattern that made you motion sick if you looked at it too long. Clearly North Oak's head trainer, Joe Hendricks, was perpetually stuck in the 1970's as far as home decor went. Brooke didn't mind though. Their home was warm and cozy, and she had been born on that hideous yellow couch in the corner.
She scratched the seat of her sweatpants and poured a cup of coffee from the pot sitting in the coffee maker by the sink. Stooping down, she opened the cabinet by her left knee, grabbed a bottle of Jim Beam whiskey, poured some into the cup, then put the bottle away.
When she rose, her eyes met with some tupperware in the corner of the countertop whose lone inhabitants were cookie crumbs. She noted she should probably return it to the Showmans after school. Right now, Pop needs his coffee so we can get down to the barns.
Brooke was particularly looking forward to getting on North Oak's Breeders' Cup Distaff nominee, Venus Galaxies. There were only a few weeks left to get ready for the race.
I wonder if Pop will want her going five furlongs, or six today, Brooke thought as she took the mug down the hall to the den and turned on the only lamp in the room. The brass fixture sat on a table between two armchairs and glowed beneath a cream shade.
Her grandfather squinted from the armchair to her right. His white whiskers moved with his face in a grimace. Brooke gave him the mug and curled up in the armchair adjacent.
"Morning, Pop."
Joe grunted and sipped his coffee. His eyes widened.
"Just how you like it." Brooke smiled. "Hey, what are you thinking for Venus Galaxies today? Five furlongs? Six, nice and easy?"
Joe merely grumbled something beneath his breath.
Brooke reached over to the table between them and took the sports page from the newspaper to browse the racing form. "Air Guitar looks good in the sixth, eh, Pop? Can't believe they're running her this close to the Breeders' Cup, though."
Joe took another deep slug of his coffee. "That paper's from two days ago."
She checked the date on the front page. "You've been up for how long and didn't bother to get today's news?"
Her grandfather set his mug down on the table, stood up, rubbed his hands on his hips, and looked at Brooke smugly. "Still up before you."
She rolled her eyes. "Some of us need sleep."
Joe swatted the air on his way out of the den, as if the implication might bite him like a gnat. "I'll sleep when I'm dead."
Brooke leaned forward in her chair. "That might come sooner than you think, old man."
"Good riddance," he muttered from the hall.
Brooke crossed to the door and called after him, "You need to take better care of yourself."
Joe grabbed his flat cap and jacket on a coat rack by the front door. "Funny you say that, seeing you're the one who looks after me."
"Fine," Brooke huffed, "no more whiskey before six!"
"It's six o'clock somewhere." Joe chuckled as he shut the door.
Brooke thumped her forehead against the den's doorway. This is my life.
***
Dr. Hillary Showman, North Oak's head veterinarian, leaned over a tablet perusing The Bloodhorse online. She sipped from her mug of coffee, casually drumming the fingers of her free hand on the tabletop.
Her husband, Cade, squeezed her shoulder and kissed her cheek as he passed.
Hillary smiled. "Remember, North and I are headed up to Paducah today to check out a new broodmare. I should be back by lunch."
Cade nodded and grabbed his coat. "I'll hold down the fort." He opened the front door. "Love you."
"Love you, too." Hillary drank from her mug again and picked up her cell phone laying beside the tablet. Where was Steven North anyway? Her boss usually wasn't late when he wanted to invest in new blood stock. And he liked her there with him as a second opinion on a horse's health and soundness.
She checked her inbox, making sure it was today and she hadn't lost track of the date in the chaos of work and home life. Her last message was from him, twelve hours prior.
New mare. Paducah. Pick you up 6a.
It was going on to six-thirty.
Other residents of North Oak had been up for a few hours already, going about their lives, taking care of horses. It wasn't like North to be late like this.
Hillary rose, taking her mug to the sink and rinsing it out. She carried her phone with her, texting, Everything ok?
Before she could hit send, someone pounded at the door.
Brow furrowed, Hillary looked up from her cell, and went to answer. No sooner had she opened the door, than something large- she wasn't sure what, it all happened so fast- was shoved into her arms. She dropped her phone and lost her balance, sinking on to the stairs behind her. Steven North pushed past her to the kitchen table. Shoulders heaving, he collapsed into a chair. Color drained from his skin.
Hillary leaned against the banister leading upstairs. She stared down into the face of an unconscious girl in her arms, stinking of sweat and vomit. Words wanted to pour from Hillary, but her voice seized.
North stared at her, wide-eyed. "I found her by the front gate. What are we going to do?"
Hillary's mouth opened and shut, then opened again. "What do you mean we?" A slip of black hair fell from the girl's face, revealing how pale and sickly she was. Hillary swallowed. "Who is she? Where are her parents?"
"Mom?" a young woman's voice came from the top of the stairs.
Hillary looked over her shoulder to see her nearly-sixteen-year-old daughter, Laura, gazing at her. Hillary motioned her over. "I need your help."
Laura bounded down the stairs at once. "Who is she?"
Hillary's eyes bored into North, who looked like he was about to fall apart. She grimaced. "That's what I want to know." She looked back to her daughter. "We need to get her to a bed. She's pretty banged up."
Hillary and Laura carried the mystery girl upstairs to the guest room and laid her on the bed. North trailed behind them.
Hillary pressed her hand to the pale girl's forehead. "She's burning up. Laura, get my oils. They're in my bedroom. I want to do everything I can to get this fever down quickly." She straightened as her daughter hurried from the room. A quick glance caught North sagging against the hall wall as though he were ready to collapse. Shadows grimly accentuated his drained features.
"You look like you've seen a ghost," she murmured.
North looked up at her slowly, then turned. "I'm going to be late for that appointment."
"You're going to leave her here?"
His hands clenched. "This is the best place for her."
"For how long? Someone's bound to be looking for her. We should call the police."
North looked over his shoulder. His eyes flashed. "No."
They stared one another down in heated silence.
Hillary's voice went hoarse. The hair on her arms stood on end. "What aren't you telling me?"
Her boss's jaw swayed slightly.
A chill ran down her spine. "Do you know this girl?" His expression grew steely. Hillary pressed, "Did you have an affair?"
"Is that what you want me to say? That I had an affair."
"It would be a start."
"Well I didn't."
"Than who is she?"
"We'll talk about it when I get back," he said dryly.
"Steven, you can't leave her here."
"I said I will call you when I get back. Don't let her leave when she wakes up."
Hillary took a step toward him. "I'm calling the police, unless you tell me right now how you know this girl."
He remained silent and headed down the stairs. Hillary stood at the top. "Who is she?" the woman cried.
When North slammed the door behind him, Hillary hurried back to the bedside of the girl. She scanned her features, trying to glean what information she could. Eleven. Twelve? Thirteen at most. Hillary pressed her hand to her nose. She reeks. And no color to her.
Icy sweat formed at the girl's pallid temples. Laura finally returned with a kit of essential oils. Hillary rifled through them. I've brought fevers down with peppermint. Where is it?
"Laura, get my phone. Dial Dr. Hansen. I want him to see this girl."
Hillary found the vial, removed the cap, and placed a drop in her palm. Her eyes fixated on the sickly girl, hand hesitating for a moment. Where are your parents? Why are you here? A whisper escaped the woman. "Who are you?"
***
Alex's mind spiraled in nightmare as she remained unconscious in the hazy light of the Showmans's guest room....
Black clouds choked out the crystalline stars. An ominous roar of thunder rolled across the night causing the walls of Haven Point to hum and tremble.
Alex laid uncomfortably on an old box spring mattress, staring protectively at the other girls in their own beds. DeGelder had been acting more gruesome than ever. Alex didn't like or trust her, especially after witnessing how violent the woman was toward Alex's foster sisters. None of the girls went unscathed. And things were only getting worse.
Between the smell of the oncoming storm and the heavy stench of liquor on the air, Alex was on edge. Her mind wandered as she contemplated how things had gotten so bad so quickly. Why was no one intervening? How could their treatment go unnoticed? And how could their caretaker's behavior go unpunished? It just wasn't right.
She and Ashley, who lay in the bed beside hers, had been stashing food and supplies in order to run away from it all. It was the only thing Alex wanted for her birthday tomorrow.
The squeaking springs of Ashley's bed brought Alex back to reality. Ashley sat up, appearing disoriented. The storm seemed to unsettle her.
"What's wrong?" Alex asked.
Ashley looked at her through the darkness. "I'm not really sure. Something's not right."
Alex rolled on to her side. "Things haven't been right in a while, Ash. Even Jess is scared."
Both girls looked in the direction of Jessica, a huge, tough red head who had been transferred from a group home in New York. Normally she'd be flat on her back snoring with the din of an entire sawmill, but tonight she was curled into a fetal position on her corner bed, much too small for her giant stature, and unusually quiet.
"Maybe we should take them all with us," Ashley whispered.
Alex shook her head. "No. That would make things worse."
"I don't think anything's worse than here."
"We only have enough for us two."
Alex looked at Ashley, able to make out her silhouette from the feeble light of a window above them. They had been together since they were infants, always somehow finding their way back to each other from foster homes, as if they were never meant to be parted.
"I only want you, Ash."
Alex could not have loved anyone more than she loved Ashley. Her deep and compelling devotion to her was a source for every other emotion Alex knew, including an over-protectiveness and jealousy when Ashley was around others. Alex was the shield, the protector, and Ashley her shadow, her constant companion, her sword of truth to help make sense of things in the world.
Ashley turned her head and blinked at Alex, then got up to creep across the creaky floorboards.
Alex sat up. "Where are you going?"
"To the bathroom, nosy," Ashley murmured. "I don't want to stop to pee if we're going to be running."
Okay. So maybe they didn't go everywhere together.
A flash of lightning lit up the room just enough to frame Ashley in the overcrowded bedroom doorway before she turned and padded up the stairs.
Alex rolled over, trying to punch out the lumps in her mattress well enough to get comfortable, but her best efforts were futile.
Rain pelted the lone window in the room, the lightning projecting veins of running water on the opposite wall. Thunder cracked against the house and a shot split the air...
Alex jolted awake. The darkness in the room disoriented her, and for a moment she was certain she was back at Haven. She scrambled from beneath a sheet and blanket, bumping into a wall behind her. A damp rag fell from her forehead, heavy with the heat it had absorbed.
Where am I?
There was still some pre-dusk light trickling in through a window to her right, and she began to pick out shapes from the shadows. Sweat prickled her neck, even though the room was not unusually warm. For a brief moment, she realized how feverish and weak she was, but she pushed that aside and swung her legs over the side of the bed.
She closed her eyes to breathe deeply and steady herself. Okay, Al. Think this through. Another slow breath. Her head was splitting. Pull it together. She worked through the brain fog and thought maybe she could find supplies in the house. I can keep going. I just need food.
A soft light framed a door which was slightly ajar. Alex heard someone talking and made her way across the room. She leaned against the door jamb and tuned into the conversation.
A brunette woman set dinner plates down on the dining table roughly, each one clinking against the wood with an escalating note. "He has no place telling us to take her as our own."
"Calm down, Hills," said a sandy-haired man, "the dishwasher already chips enough of our plates without you chipping another. Besides, it's not as if we're providing for her out of our own pockets. We're just offering her a roof over her head. That room never gets used anyway."
The woman grimaced, her reproachful gaze unconvinced. She and the man sat down at the table with their dinner and were joined by a blonde young woman not much older than Alex.
Another girl about the same age, with brown hair, leaned against the front door. She looked like she wasn't quite sure what to do with herself amongst the bickering, but the family at the table waved her over. "I already ate," she protested.
The woman gave her a narrow look. "Sit. Now."
The girl at the door obeyed and placed a tupperware container on the table, trying to avoid the woman's angry stare. "Yes, Ma'am."
The smell of hot food wafted its way up the staircase and Alex gripped her stomach to quiet its angry snarl. They seemed like decent people. Decent people that didn't deserve to be stolen from. Alex chewed her lip. They had taken her in. Maybe they might help her. But as she listened more closely to what the woman was saying, a dark expression passed over Alex's face.
"I don't understand why she can't live with the Norths," the woman muttered, "it's not like he doesn't have fifty spare guest rooms of his own. If he wanted to take her in, he should have done so himself."
Alex beat the wall softly. It was no surprise that she was not welcome here. They may have shown her enough kindness to keep her alive, but Alex knew when she wasn't wanted. Nobody ever wanted her in the long run.
She wasn't about to stick around to hear the rest. Move on, she told herself. They don't need to be in your mess anyway.
She crossed back through the bedroom to a window. It did not seem too high up. She undid the latches and pulled the window open. The October chill hit her, but she didn't care. She made a quick jump to the ground and ran in whichever direction her feet took her.
***
Brooke sat uneasily with the Showmans at their dinner table, processing the farm's latest gossip. Mr. North was always doing something crazy that got the natives talking, and tonight was no different. The events had Dr. Showman hopping mad.
Mr. Showman took his wife and daughter's hands and asked his daughter to offer grace. Laura, half amused and half concerned over her mother's brooding, tried to stifle a smirk as she bowed her head diligently. She grabbed Brooke's hand, then offered thanks for the food and blessings in their lives, and said something no one expected.
"Thank you for this opportunity we have to expand our family. Please open our hearts, especially Mom's. She always tries to see our best qualities and love us in spite of ourselves. Let us do so for our new sister and daughter as well. Amen."
Brooke watched Laura peek out of one blue eye to see Dr. Showman's expression had softened and humbled somewhat. Laura smiled as her dad winked at her.
"Please pass the potatoes," was the only thing the vet mumbled for the rest of dinner.
Brooke tapped the tupperware lid quietly. "Um... who are you guys talking about?"
Laura set down her fork and leaned forward eagerly. "North found some kid on the road by the front gate. She's been out cold all day. You want to see her?" Laura's tone made it sound like it was some sort of new pet.
"Seriously? Where are her parents?"
"North told Mom he's working with the police."
Brooke glanced to Dr. Showman whose stormy expression only grew darker beneath a tight grimace. Laura moved to push back her chair, but her father touched her arm and asked her to sit back down. "Finish your dinner."
She rolled her eyes and wolfed down her food. "Come on!" she said to Brooke.
Brooke got up and slid the tupperware toward Dr. Showman. "Thank you, by the way. Those cookies were amazing."
She followed Laura up the stairs to the guest room where the Showmans had been keeping the girl.
"Doctor came by earlier," Laura told her. "He said her heart is a bit funny. Mom will take her in for an EKG as soon as possible. Doc didn't think it would be a good idea to move her with her being feverish and all. Mr. North was upset when he left. Not angry like Mom, though. More like he'd seen a ghost."
Laura pushed the door open since it was already ajar. The guestroom was dark. The girls crossed to the bed, but the rumpled sheets were empty. Laura darted to the door. "Mom!"
Brooke looked around the room. "She couldn't have gotten far if she's as sick as you say."
Dr. Showman pounded up the stairs. "What is it? Is she awake?"
Brooke noticed the window in the room was open just wide enough for a person to sneak out. She leaned out and tried to see if she could spot the girl. "You could say that."
"Call North," Dr. Showman ordered, "put everyone on alert. He doesn't want that girl leaving the property."
"But why?" Brooke asked.
The woman looked at the girls with a grim expression that told them to disclose such information had been forbidden.