Charming (8 page)

That was weird.

By the time English rolled around, Haley’s night outdoors caught up with her, eyes heavy and burning. Mr. Thompson wrote sentence after unintelligent sentence on the whiteboard—supposedly taken from the class’s last writing assignments—then asked random students to explain what was wrong with it.

If Haley put her head down for two seconds and closed her eyes… wouldn’t be that bad, would it?

“Miss Tremaine?”

She shook so hard that the desk squeaked across the tile floor. “Yes, sir?”

Half the class giggled.

“Can you answer the question?”

Glancing at the board, she said, “The sentence has no predicate, sir. It’s incomplete, written more like slang.”

“Good guess.”

The bell rang, and she gathered her things and darted into the hall before anyone else. She’d used up her last chance with Mr. Thompson, kind Mr. Thompson who only wanted good things for a student formerly known as good.

Maybe she really did suck as a human being.

At home, the smell of alcohol hit Haley as soon as she walked through the front door.

Hope gone. She shouldn’t have hoped in the first place.

Dad barreled down the hall, tripping and hitting the wall with his shoulder. “My drinking is your fault, Mags—”

“I’m not—”

“Shut your mouth. I tried, for you, for Jocey, for Christ’s sake. And you ruined it. I was trying. You always ruin things, Mags. Can’t just be a good woman, can you?” Dad grabbed a flask out of his robe pocket and took a drink, then returned his gaze to Haley, swaying where he stood, black hair soaked with sweat. “You always have to be the spoiled whore brat your mother raised you to be.”

Haley backed up against the screen door, out of reach of his clenched fists. Deep breath. “Where’s Jocelyn?”

Dad narrowed his bloodshot eyes. “Leave her out of this.”

Not home. She wasn’t home. “Please don’t hurt me.”

“Hurt you? All you do is hurt me, your family.” Dad grabbed Haley’s arm and squeezed, brutally, shaking her. He threw her against the wall, then stormed out of the house in his bathrobe.

Haley slid to her butt and put her head between her knees.

ad grounded Haley for a week for “spacing out in class.” She could go to school and work, but walking home with Christine was out of the question. Dad removed the phone and computer from Haley’s possession, made larger messes than usual, bounded into her room at the slightest noise, as if he knew she’d snuck through the window a hundred times to visit Mom.

Guess the bruise wasn’t enough and he had to take payment in other ways, only drilling in the knowledge that he was different, gone, forever. As if the blotchy purple handprint around pale white skin hadn’t already told Haley that. She’d thought Jocelyn should see the mark Dad left, but with the perfect opportunity in her grasp, she couldn’t do it. Not when Joce spent the entire week ignoring Haley, blaming with averted eyes, crossed arms, an upturned chin, with complete and utter silence.

Besides, Mom wouldn’t want Haley to spill their secrets, would she? Mom wouldn’t want Jocelyn to know Dad was an ass, an abusive ass, and that she died on her way to pick up her youngest daughter, to take her to the new house Mom and Haley picked out.

No. Definitely had to keep the lips zipped.

Restrictions ended today—finally—and both Dad and Jocelyn were out of the house, picking up their outfits from the seamstress.

Alcoholic or not, Dad was still going to the party with his naïve little Jocelyn.

“What a mess.” Haley dabbed a small amount of makeup on her bicep to cover the fading bruise, then slipped into the sheer, black button-up with short bubble sleeves and little red flowers that Gran sent as a birthday present a few months ago.

Summer fought ferociously over the last few days, bringing warmer temperatures, blue skies, and plenty of sunshine. Nothing wrong with a little Indian Summer. A perfect day to hang with Gran and visit Mom.

Haley pulled her phone from the junk drawer in the kitchen and dialed Gran’s number.

“Hello?” Gran mumbled, sounding distant, thousands of miles away.

“Gran, your hand is covering the receiver again.”

“Haley-poo! It’s so wonderful to hear your voice, darling.”

“Yours too.” Love fluttered in Haley’s heart, and hot tears leapt into her eyes. “How’d you like to meet up at Champney’s before visiting Mom?”

“Mmm. I already know what I’m going to order.”

“You know ingesting that much greasy meat isn’t good for you.” Gran couldn’t get enough of the Deerfield Farm Burgers, juicy things that practically required a bib and a stack of napkins. Fattening, delicious, but
so
unhealthy.

“Pish-posh, darling. I thought you were my smart granddaughter? You should know that eating an occasional good thing won’t kill you. It’s overindulgence, Haley-poo.”

Like overindulging in alcohol. That certainly killed a person. “Okay. Fine. Order that.”

“If you were so concerned for my well-being, you should have suggested another place.” Gran sighed. “But before I agree to meet you in such a high-traffic place, I need you to know that I’ve already visited your mother.”

Haley sat on the top step of the porch and stared across the street to Christine’s, some of the excitement for the day ahead wearing off. “You went without me?”

“Listen, your dad called me. He said you have an obsession with going there and that he’s concerned.”

Air whooshed from Haley’s lungs, leaving behind a nervous flutter as they attempted to operate again. “
What
?”

“Are you going there a lot? Sleeping on the ground, Haley?”

Breathe in. Breathe out. “Can we talk about this in person, Gran?”

“Absolutely. Want me to pick you up?”

Shaking her head and already taking off down the street, Haley said, “No. I think I need time to clear my head.”

“See you in about an hour, darling.”

An hour later, Haley spotted the grand Deerfield Inn, majestic with its old world charm, broad white pillars stretching from the upper balcony and down to the ground level like bars on a prison. No, wait, that’s just how Haley imagined what the next hour would be like, like being in prison, trapped inside with lonely thoughts, thoughts no one could know about.

“Haley?” Gran abandoned one of the patriotic colored rockers in front of the Inn and approached Haley slowly. The older, but very similar version of her mother smiled, wearing an obviously homemade knitted sweater that was the worst shade of pale pink and at least three sizes too large for her thin frame. She wasn’t wearing her glasses, which only meant she was trying to “fit in with the young crowd.” “Is that you, darling?”

“Hi, Gran.” Haley wrapped up Gran in a huge hug, inhaling that old woman smell, something aesthetic and yet sweet about it. “It’s me.”

“You’ve lost weight,” Gran said, holding Haley at arm’s length, chewing at her pink glossed bottom lip and glancing her granddaughter up and down. Gran tugged Haley’s hair. “It’s so short and choppy. When did you cut off your beautiful locks?”

Haley tucked a blonde strand behind her ear, heat blossoming on her cheeks. “Not that long ago.”

In a fit of rage, she’d grabbed the kitchen scissors and cut her hair to prevent Dad from being able to grab it and pull her around the house. He’d yanked a handful of hair once while screaming Mom’s name, a painful reminder of how much they looked alike.

“I bet all the boys love it.” Gran smiled and led the way to the side of the Inn to enter Champney’s. “It’s very cute.”

The first day at work after Haley hacked off all her hair, Chris stopped in, then stopped dead in his tracks and stared, mouth hanging slightly open. Matt, one of Haley’s coworkers, walked up to Chris, laughed, then pushed his jaw closed and walked away, shaking his head. She’d felt gorgeous then, for one of the first times ever, but now, facing Gran, she felt like a fraud. “They love it.”

“Is this jagged, angled look a new trend?”

“Not yet. But if it becomes one, maybe girls at school will stop staring at me.”

A hostess took Gran and Haley to a table outside on the redbrick patio and let them know their server would be around shortly.

“Thank you, dear.” Gran swept her salt and pepper hair back into a low ponytail and let it cascade down her delicate shoulder, exposed thanks to the gaping hole otherwise known as a collar in her sweater. She looked over the menu, then over her dark framed glasses. “You ready to talk now?”

Haley studied the menu, though she knew it well enough not to have to. “Jocelyn and Dad are doing well. Instead of visiting Mom, they’re going to the Charmings’ annual Berkshires party tonight.”

Their server arrived, a young girl not much older than Haley, dark brown hair, a nice smile, black shirt, pants, shoes, everything. “Welcome to Champney’s. My name’s Lisa. What can I get you two ladies to drink today?”

Gran placed her menu on the faux wood table. “I’ll have an unsweetened tea, please, and that delicious Deerfield Farm Burger. Haley?”

“Roasted Pear Arugula salad, please, and same on the drink.”

Laughing, Gran snatched Haley’s menu and said, “She’ll have what I’m having, and she’ll like it. She could stand to gain a few pounds.”

“
Gran
!”

She waved off the server, the girl stuck in a motion half wanting to stay and half wanting to run off to enter their order—or talk about them to her friends. Ahh, Gran.

“Eat it for me? I’m just a dying old woman.”

Haley laughed. “Dying? You’re, like, in your seventies, in perfect shape, not to mention smarter and more stubborn than you should be.”

“But I live in an old folks’ home.”

“Because you said you were lonely and didn’t want the farm now that Gramps was gone.” Fortunately, Gran already signed the deed for the two hundred acre, sprawling cattle farm over to Haley. But, until Haley was old enough, Gran let renters take over the day-to-day of the house and hired plenty of helping hands to tend the animals. Gran and Haley were just figureheads at the moment.

“So, are you upset about your Dad and Joce going to the party?”

“Nice change of subject.”

“Think of it as an appropriate subject. And you know they grieve differently than you, Haley. They’ve become closer, while you more distant. Sometimes I think you’re so much more mature than the two of them.” Gran nodded. “Yes. Definitely believe that’s the case. But you can’t sleep in a cemetery.”

“Once. It happened once. Total accident.”

“I’ll talk to your father and let him know it won’t happen again. He’ll be relieved. I also think you’re in for some sort of surprise tonight.”

Haley leaned her head the side. “Surprise?”

“Your dad gave me some cryptic message about having you home before dark. He said that you just had to be there, but he wouldn’t say more than that.”

Probably just wanted Haley to chauffeur him and Joce to the party—or clean something.

Poor Gran. So in the dark and confused about what really went on inside the Tremaine household. But Dad. How on earth did he know about Haley’s trips to the cemetery and not yell for hours about it?

The food came, and the burgers were amazing—as usual: not overdone, buns toasted to perfection, and so messy Gran and Haley had to ask for more napkins. And the French fries…? Haley bit into the last one at the same time the server delivered the bill. Gran swiped it before Haley had a chance to look at the total.