Rapid Falls(32)

I stand up from the armchair and cross the room. I need to treat this call to my father like a business obligation, I think as I seat myself at the desk. At this point, my father is little more than a troublesome colleague whom I have to deal with occasionally. I have built a life without him in Fraser City. Rick and I haven’t been back to Rapid Falls since that visit. Maggie has never seen my hometown. I rarely think of my dad, drinking away his memories and erasing me from his life. Except on nights like tonight, when I have to serve as the bearer of Anna’s bad news.

I click on my desk lamp and dial his number. It rings once, twice, three times. Maybe he’s asleep, I think, glancing at the time. It’s only 9:00 p.m.

“Hello?” His voice is gruff with sleep.

“Dad?” As if it could be anyone else. “It’s Cara.”

“How are you?” he asks flatly.

“I’m . . . fine. How are you?”

“Fine.” He’s heard something in my voice that makes him wary.

“It’s Anna.” The words are familiar to both of us.

“Okay.” He sounds more comfortable now that we are reading from the well-worn script. “What’s going on?”

I can hear rustling in the background. It sounds like he’s getting out of bed. I can picture his bedroom so clearly, it’s as if I’m there. I’m surprised by the longing I feel, thinking about my childhood home. For the few months after Jesse died, before Anna went to prison, it was the only place where we were safe.

“It’s not good, Dad. Anna has been arrested—”

“For what? DUI?” my dad interrupts.

“No, Dad. It was . . . solicitation.” I can’t bear to say the word prostitution.

“Solic—” he begins, then pauses. “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

Silence.

“Was Ron with her?”

“I don’t . . . Who is Ron?”

“Her boyfriend. Her new boyfriend, I guess.”

“Oh.” I’m surprised. He must talk to Anna more frequently than I realized. I swallow my irritation. He can call Anna but not his own grandchild? I try to keep my voice neutral. “I haven’t met Ron yet.”

“Anna mentioned him last time we spoke.”

“I’m not sure he’s around.” I fight the urge to ask how often they talk. Silence again. “Okay. Well, I should probably let you get back to—”

“Is she . . . in jail?” His voice sounds achingly sad. It jars me.

“I haven’t spoken with her yet. Mom was here at my house when she called. But yeah, she called from the station. We can’t get her out until the morning. At the earliest.”

“Oh.” His voice conveys no emotion.

“Rick and I were away. We rushed back from a hotel. We had to cancel our plans . . . again.” I can’t resist the dig. My dad doesn’t respond. I try to ignore the fact that he doesn’t care or understand what I’m going through, what I always have to go through with Anna.

“So I’ll know more tomorrow, but I just wanted to keep you in the loop.”

“Okay.”

“Okay, I’ll call if—” I say, trying to finish again when my dad interrupts.

“Does she need me to come down?”

I feel a blaze of anger. All he cares about is her. “No, Dad, it’s okay. I’ll handle it.”

“I know you will, Cara. You always have.” His tone is bitter, almost resentful.

“Thanks, Dad.” I pretend to take his words at face value.

“Goodbye, Cara.”

I’m left holding the phone against my ear, flooded with disquiet.

Rick appears. His face is strained. He looks scared.

“Cara, the police called.”

“Have you been able to speak with Anna?”

“No.” He looks pale when he steps into the light from the lamp. “She tried to . . .” He takes a deep breath and shakes his head. “They said she started screaming and wouldn’t stop. When they finally went to check on her, they realized that she had bit her own wrist so hard that she was bleeding. They had to take her to the psych ward.”

I reach for the phone again, wishing it was a glass full of something obliterating.





CHAPTER TWELVE

July 1997

I managed to catch Wade as everyone filed out after the funeral. I asked him to meet me at Rapid Falls the next day. I spoke quickly and quietly so no one else would hear. I didn’t fault him for his discomfort. We both knew that people would notice if he spent too much time cozying up to the sister of the girl who killed his best friend. I needed to make sure the story people were telling about me was the one I wanted.

I borrowed my mom’s car for the forty-five-minute drive to the waterfall that our town is named after. My parents used to bring Anna and me up here for picnics when we were kids. The last time, Anna and I had fought over the last brownie and my mom had cut the trip short. At first it felt good to be quiet by choice, completely alone. No one had called after the funeral, and each of us had retreated to our own rooms, with the doors closed, for the rest of the day. As I reached the turnoff to the falls, however, my nerves jumped. This wasn’t going to be an easy conversation. I had to figure out how much Wade knew.