Embers: An Inferno Conclusion, page 5
She wouldn’t understand and wonder if she did something wrong.
“Cleo,” Dad begins conversationally. “Did you still want to have that sleep over with your Momma?”
“Yes, please,” she replies excitedly.
Dad’s eyes wander toward me slowly, a smile creasing his lips, and I can feel my heart start pounding rapidly.
He’s up to something.
“I think I’ll join you,” he finally says, a wide grin on his face as he turns his attention back toward her. Cleo looks proud—I feel sick. She probably thinks she’s finally won her father’s affections, but I’m worried about which affections those happen to be.
Do you think it would be a bad idea if the next time we were together, we had the girl watch us? His question comes crashing back down over me with hurricane force winds and I have to bite my lip to keep from outright crying.
“We’re almost out of food,” I blurt out. I don’t know if that’s entirely true, but I know that it will buy us some time. Dad never lets us run out of necessities and he hasn’t been to town in a while. I know he’ll believe me without bothering to double check. If I’m wrong, I’ll get punished, if I’m right, I’ll have a chance to figure out how to save the children.
“Why didn’t you tell me earlier?” he asks giving me a puzzled look. “I’m gonna be out almost all damn night now trying to find a twenty-four-hour grocery store, Darbs.”
“I’m sorry,” I say quietly.
He rolls his eyes as he pushes his chair back and gets to his feet. Dad leaves the dining room without a word, and I look at each of the children in turn. Do I tell them? Do I let them know the hell that I’ve endured to keep them safe?
No, I tell myself, letting out a heavy sigh. That wouldn’t be fair to them; it’s not their fault that their father is so irrevocably broken.
And if I really want to be honest with myself then I have to concede the fact that it’s not his fault either.
* * *
“Darby!” Dad calls out as he makes his way toward the front door.
I smile at my children, run a hand over Cleo’s hair, and tell them to finish their supper.
“Yes?” I ask when I join him in the foyer.
“I’ll try not to be gone for too long,” he says, jingling his truck keys in his hand thoughtfully, “but there’s something I want you to know.”
I clasp my hands in front of myself, and arch an eyebrow.
“I’m not going into town alone this time. It’s a long, arduous ride, and I’m gonna take one of them to talk to me and help me stay awake on the way back.”
My chest begins to constrict.
This is our chance.
If he takes one of the children, they’ll more than likely become so enamored with what they see that they might slip up about never leaving the house. They might tell someone where we are, and if someone, anyone, comes to look for us, I might be brave enough to tell them what kind of man Dad really is.
“Okay,” I say quietly. “Do you want me to get Richter or Skylar ready?”
Dad gives me a shit-eating grin as he slowly shakes his head. It’s like a punch in the gut now that I understand. He won’t take either of them because they would be the ones to ask questions and maybe say more than they should. Even though they don’t know what I’ve been through, they know that I’ve been in the oubliette, and they know that’s wrong.
Cleo doesn’t understand as much as they do and she’s so desperate to please her father, that she’ll do anything he tells her to.
“What if I say no?” I question, defiantly raising my chin and trying my best to not look like I’m about to burst into tears.
“You know damn well that I’m going to take her anyway. And if you start mouthing off to me, you’ll go back down into the fucking ground until I feel like seeing you again. Do you really want to leave those kids alone with dear ole Dad?” he asks with a sinister smirk appearing on his face.
I don’t let my chin drop.
I square my shoulders.
I do my best not to cry, but his threats are usually worse than his actions. He uses them to control me because he knows that those kids mean more to me than he does.
He’s jealous, and because of that, he’ll do what he has to in order to be the primary recipient of my affections.
“Now go on in there and tell her to come out,” he commands with a nod. “I’ll help her with her coat, and we’ll be back in no time.”
“Promise me that you won’t hurt her,” I say quietly. I look up into his golden-brown eyes. I drink in his amusement and frustration at being questioned, and I look hopelessly for the father that I know he can sometimes be.
The caring, doting father that wants to do right by his children without causing them any harm.
“Scout’s honor,” he finally says with a chuckle. “Now be a good mommy and explain to her that she’s coming with me. I don’t want to have her blubbering the entire time thinking she’s done something wrong.”
I push my hair behind my ears. I hold his gaze for a moment longer, and when he finally softens some, I turn my back to him and go into the dining room. I know that Richter will be upset that he doesn’t get to spend time with his father, and I know that Skylar will more than likely feel a little twinge of jealousy that Dad “picked” Cleo over her.
I wonder if this is how Jocelyn felt, I think as I sit down in my chair next to Cleo and pull her into my lap. I hold her tightly as I run my hand over her hair and give her the news that she’ll be going into town to help her daddy. I make her promise me that she’ll stay by his side and not wander off because of how sad I would be if something happened to her.
Once I’m sure she understands, once I admonish the other two over their blatant jealousy of not being “picked”, I put Cleo on her feet and walk her into the foyer where Dad is waiting.
“You wanna go to town with Daddy?” he asks her, getting down on one knee with her coat in his hands.
“Yes, please,” she replies excitedly.
He nods and clears his throat as he helps her into her coat, then zips it up to her neck, giving the tip of her nose a gentle tap with the tip of his finger. She blushes a very innocent shade of crimson and giggles. My heart feels like it’s breaking but I do my best to contain myself because he promised me.
“Alright,” he finally says as he gets to his feet and picks Cleo up, securing her in his arms. “Tell your Momma, good-bye now.”
“Bye, Momma!” she says excitedly.
“Good-bye, baby,” I reply, my voice barely above a whisper.
“We’ll be back,” Dad says with a nod as he opens the front door and walks out of the house. Cleo turns her head, glancing at me over his shoulder, and waves with a big smile on her face.
I raise my hand and return the wave briefly, wondering how it is that I had it in me to willingly let her go with him.
The night air is cool, and I’m not dressed to be out here, but I haven’t been able to sleep. After Dad and Cleo left, I had Richter and Skylar clear the table, then sent them straight to bed because I didn’t want them to see the absolute panic that had settled over me.
I wrap my arms around myself and glance up at the night sky. They’ve been gone for two hours now and the unsettling feeling hasn’t eased up in the least.
“Mom?”
I startle and whip my head around to find Richter standing in the doorway, watching me with tired, curious eyes.
“Go back inside, sweetheart,” I instruct him tiredly. “Your father will be angry if he gets home and you’re not in bed.”
Richter walks the few steps toward where I’ve set up camp, then he sits on the steps next to me and shrugs.
“I’m not scared.”
I smile slightly as I glance at him. He looks so much like his father, that it’s a wonder that being this close to him doesn’t set my teeth on edge. Especially in moments like this, when I don’t know what Dad is up to, and when I don’t know what’s going to happen to my youngest.
But unlike Dad, Richter is a good person. I’ve never seen him yell at his sisters, and he’s the first to kiss their scraped knees and helps them hold the baseball bat when it’s their turn to swing.
He’ll end this fucking lineage of terror if I can’t. It will take time, and he’ll have to go through hell before he does, but he’s strong enough to do it.
Of that I have no doubt.
Richter scuffs his foot on the lower step as he makes himself comfortable. I know there’s no way I’ll be able to convince him to go back inside, and to be honest, I’m actually enjoying the company.
I reach over and ruffle his hair before I turn my eyes back to the long driveway that eventually disappears so far out of sight and spills onto the road. I wonder where Cleo is, if she’s afraid, hurt, or if he’s actually caring for her like the father that he sometimes is.
“Were you scared?” Richter asks suddenly.
“Hm?” I reply curiously.
“When you were down in the well.”
“No,” I say. And it’s the truth, I wasn’t afraid. I was angry that he sent Cleo down into that hell with me, but it gave me the chance to keep her away from his ire.
“Were you afraid, honey? When I was down there?” I press gently.
He shrugs as he chews the inside of his mouth thoughtfully, careful to avoid my eyes. If he’s ever been afraid of anything, I’d never know because of how brave a facade he always puts on.
My brave little man.
“Your father just sent me down there to clean it up some. I forgot about the ladder after I was done, and I think he assumed I was already in the house when he brought it back up. It’s not a big deal,” I lie skillfully. Richter turns his eyes toward me, narrow and full of suspicion, but when he lets out a sigh, I know that he believes me.
Wait.
“Honey, go inside and get the flashlight. It should be in one of the kitchen drawers, okay?”
He gets to his feet without so much as a question and does as he told like the good son that he is. A few moments later, when he returns, I get to my feet and hold my hand out. When Richter attempts to hand me the flashlight, I smile and shake my head, and wait for his hand in its place.
He takes mine reluctantly. Because he’s such a big boy now, he doesn’t think that holding his mom’s hand is a cool thing to do, but I’m lending him my strength right now since I know he’s going to need it shortly.
Richter doesn’t question me when I turn on the flashlight and lead him around the side of the property. He doesn’t even seem bothered when we end up at the oubliette. And when I pull the gate open and toss the rope inside, he’s still the brave boy that I’ve admired for so long.
“I need you to do something for me,” I tell him softly as I toss the ladder inside of the well.
“Near the bottom, there’s a space between the bricks. I felt something in there, but I didn’t have time to get it out. Would you …”
My son reaches for the rope without hesitation and climbs in, slowly make his way down into the darkness. I hold the ladder on my end as tightly as I can while still shining the light down on him. I don’t know how far down it will reach, but the longer I can see him, the better I know I’ll feel.
But when the light finally fades and I have no sight of my son, my hands begin to tremble. I can feel myself becoming afraid and wanting to crawl down into the hole after him. Until he calls up to me and assures me that he’s okay.
“I’m at the bottom, Mom!” he calls up to me.
I let out a huge sigh of relief. So much so that I almost end up dropping the flashlight into the well. There’s no way I’d be able to explain to Dad how that got down there, or think of a good enough excuse as to why it’s broken without him figuring me out, so I set it down on the side of the well, use the weight of my body to pin the ladder to the side of the well and call back down to Richter.
“It should be above your head! It felt like paper!”
I know that’s not the best description of what I’m looking for. Especially not with all of the dried leaves at the bottom—hell, even the shit we slept on felt like paper, but I know it had to be whatever was left over from what Jocelyn spent her last days on.
He falls silent, the only sound echoing back toward me is the shifting of his feet and his grunts as he tries to find what I sent him down for.
“I think I got it!” he calls up excitedly after a few minutes.
“Come on up!” I instruct him nervously. Leaning to the side, I grab the flashlight again and shine it down into the darkness. Agonizing seconds pass before I finally see the top of his head as he climbs up as quickly as he can. When he finally clears the top, I drop the flashlight onto the grass again and yank him over, hugging him tightly.
“Thank you, sweetheart. You’re so brave,” I whisper, kissing the top of his head.
“Aw, Mom,” he groans, shifting uncomfortably in my arms. I laugh and let him go. He picks up the rope ladder and starts to gather it back into a neat pile the way Dad always has it before he reaches over and pulls the wooden gate closed.
I put an arm around Richter’s shoulders as we walk quickly back toward the house. When we reach the front steps of the house, he holds the dirty, yellowed folded paper out to me, then runs inside with the flashlight.
Taking up my watch again, I slip the dusty paper into my bra and turn my attention back to the driveway.
Come on, Dad, I pray silently. Bring my baby back home.
The next morning, I’m woken up by the nudge of a boot. I wake up with a gasp and rub my eyes, quickly realizing that I fell asleep on the front step and that Dad was home now.
I look up at him and smile in embarrassment. He doesn’t look happy, but he doesn’t exactly look angry either—it’s more of a curious confusion.
“Did you sleep out here last night?” he inquires as he rubs his chin.
“Yeah,” I reply honestly. There’s no point in trying to come up with a lie. Dad has always been able to tell when any of us are lying, so I gave up that ghost a long time ago.
“Why?” he prods.
“I was waiting for Cleo,” I say softly.
He chuckles and shakes his head as turns around to glance at the driveway. “Well, I hate to break it to you, Darbs, but that kid isn’t our problem anymore.”
“What?”
I didn’t mean to shout at him. It was what he said that jolted me so wide awake and full of anger, that I couldn’t help myself.
“Don’t raise your voice to me, little girl,” he warns in an even tone. “Grab the other two and bring the groceries in. If I decide to tell you what happened to her, then I will.”
I get to my feet, my hands balled at my sides. I want to hit him. I want to grab him by his shoulders and shake the answers out of him, but I won’t. Not while I still have two children under this roof to protect—not when I have a daughter missing and he has the answers.
Dad waits for me to get up and walk in first. It’s the gentleman that’s locked somewhere inside of him rearing its head. I know better, though. He knows that I’m a high-strung mess now and I’d more than likely attempt to make a break for it, run into town, and see if I can find my darling Cleo.
“Richter! Skylar!” he booms through the house. “Get your lazy asses up and help your mother with the groceries!”
The kids’ bedroom door opens almost immediately and I watch them rush out, hair wild, rubbing the sleep out of their eyes, as they do as their father commands.
I wait for them to run outside before I walk into the bedroom I share with my father and close the door firmly behind us.
My fear of what’s happened to Cleo has turned into the anger of wanting to know where she is.
“Where’s my daughter?” I ask him evenly, turning and sliding the lock into place.
Dad lets out a laugh as he sits on the edge of the bed and pulls his boots off. He knows that the Darby that’s in the room with him now, is the same Darby who’s will he thought he finally managed to subdue.
Instead of answering, he sucks his teeth and tosses his boots to the side, before walking around the side of the bed and laying down. Dad closes his eyes, rests an arm across his forehead, and ignores me.
It’s his way of ending the conversation, but the mother inside of me isn’t going to give up so fucking easily.
“Where’s Cleo?” I shout at him.
He doesn’t move or even flinch. I watch his lips curl up into a smile, but that’s it. Other than that, this conversation is over, and he won’t give me the answers I want.
“Fine,” I seethe quietly as I spin on my heel and walk out of the room. I slam the door so loudly behind me that the walls rattle.
I make my way past Skylar and Richter who are walking into the house with bags in their arms. They exchange a glance when they see how angry I am, but I don’t stop. Not until I get to Dad’s truck. I walk around to the back, reach into the bed of the vehicle and fish around until I find something heavy enough for what I want to do.
I settle on the crowbar and walk back toward the front, climb onto the hood, and wait. I know that he’ll come out to see what I’m getting myself into because, after all, I’m made from his same genetic make-up, and he knows that when it comes to getting what I want, I am definitely my father’s daughter.
It doesn’t take long for Dad to show up on the steps. He’s got his hands on his hips, a dangerous gleam in his eyes, and our children on either side of him.
“What are you gonna do with that, Darby? Besides piss me off,” he calls out to me.
“Last fucking chance,” I warn him, “Where’s Cleo?”
He licks his lips and cracks his neck. I can tell that he’s debating taking me down right now, but I’ll swing this crowbar and smash his windshield before he has a chance to reach me, and he knows it.
“Don’t make me come get you down from there, girl,” he snaps, as he walks down the steps and begins to make his way toward me. I wait until he’s almost close enough to reach me then lift the heavy metal object high over my head and bring it down against the tempered glass with as much force as I can muster.
