Hadley & Grace(77)

“Yes. I can. I will. It will be there when the station opens.”

“Okay.” A pause. So much unsaid and yet nothing really left to say. “Thanks, Jimmy. Take care of yourself.”

“Grace—”

She disconnects and returns to where the others are waiting, hollow as a ghost, as if the wind can move right through her.





54





HADLEY


It was the most miserable night of Hadley’s life. The only night that even came close was the night her mother died, but that night was only full of sadness, while last night was full of all sorts of other horrible emotions as well.

Mattie. Mark. Mattie. Mattie. Mattie. Mark. Mark. Mark. Each moment she closed her eyes brought horror and terror. Every sharp noise startled her, her mind thinking it was a gunshot. And as she held Skipper against her and waited for the dawn, she wondered if this would be the new rhythm of her life, a fragile state of unrelenting fear interrupted by extreme moments of regret—every other minute remembering, then forgetting again, because the idea simply won’t stick—an endless cycle of torture certain to drive her insane.

She sits up carefully so as not to wake Skipper and rubs her swollen eyes. Grace is a few feet away, Miles in her arms, a bottle plugged in his mouth.

She looks as bad as Hadley feels, her eyes bruised and her hair matted on one side and frizzy on the other. She looks homeless, like she’s been living on the streets for months. They all do—the four of them layered in mismatched clothes and blankets bought from a Walgreens two blocks away, gritty with dirt and grime from a night spent huddled in the dark corner of the church’s courtyard.

Dinner was peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, and this morning’s breakfast will be the same. Grace is oddly adept at knowing how to survive on the street, making Hadley wonder again about her past. She knew exactly which corner would provide the most shelter and how to make the most of their funds, spending it on food that would last and on as much warmth as they could afford. Hadley wanted to buy toothpaste and hand sanitizer, but Grace was adamant they hold on to their money in case Jimmy doesn’t come through, which Grace seems to think he might not.

Hadley was surprised when Grace told her she had called him. It was a sign of how desperate things had become. She wanted to ask Grace if she was okay, but Grace made it clear she didn’t want to talk about it. So, Hadley let her be, though it’s quite obvious the conversation wrecked her, and Hadley has never seen Grace so close to despair.

The bells of the church chime eight times, and Grace turns. “We need to go.”

Hadley jostles Skipper to wake him. His response is to curl tighter against her.

“Come on, Champ,” she says, her eyes fixed on the purple dinosaur pin on his hat. The Rockies mascot emblem was a purchase Mattie insisted on when they were at the sports store buying his new jersey. Tears pool in her eyes, and it takes all her will to keep them from spilling over.

Skipper blinks his eyes open, wide pools of blue looking up at her, and she forces as bright a smile as she can manage onto her face as she says, “Morning, Champ. Ready to start our day? Trout has a plan.”

“To get First Base?” he says, sitting up sleepily.

Hadley tries not to react and keeps the smile plastered on her face. “To get us someplace safe so then we can try to get First Base.”

He furrows his brow and nods, his faith in her still remarkably unwavering, still believing she is somehow going to get them through this and that it will all work out, despite all evidence to the contrary.





55





GRACE


They are outside a pawnshop that also serves as a Western Union. The area is seedy, but Grace is not scared. Early morning is the safest time to be awake in a city, the homeless sleeping off their benders from the night before or too done in from hunger and cold to be much of a threat.

Grace spent a precious seventy-five cents on a newspaper this morning, desperate to know what had happened at the stadium after they’d fled, hoping for good news about the agent and Mattie. The story was front-page news. The headline, Shooting at Coors Field Leaves One Dead, destroyed her first wish, and the second, smaller headline, Torelli Daughter Kidnapped by Father and Missing, destroyed her second.

Beside the blurry photo of the agent lying on the sidewalk were smaller photos of Grace, Hadley, Skipper, and Mattie. The photos of Hadley and Grace were from their driver’s licenses and bore little resemblance to what they looked like now. The ones of Skipper and Mattie were their most recent school portraits. Skipper looked exactly the same: the same off-center grin, the top of his Dodgers uniform showing. Mattie, however, looked nothing like the girl Grace knows, and Grace was shocked to see how much she had changed since the photo had been taken at the beginning of the school year. Her hair in the photo was long and brown, her teeth still sporting braces. She was young looking, her smile self-conscious and unsure.

It is difficult to get used to the idea that Mattie is gone. Like she’s missing a limb, Grace keeps thinking she’s there; then, when she realizes she isn’t, it’s like this great gaping hole in the middle of everything. Desperately, Grace wants to fix it, her mind spinning and spinning to figure out a way to find her and to get her back, and each time realizing it is impossible.

Grace read the article twice, then threw the paper away before Hadley could see it. She’s worried the truth, in Hadley’s current fragile state, would be too much for her to bear.