The Red Hunter(22)

At her computer she went through the posts to find that first one, to remind her what she felt that day. The video was shaky and amateurish. And too dark; the lighting was bad.

“Uh,” said Ayers on the video. He leaned in and inspected the banister, pulling lightly at one of the dowels, which broke off in his hand. He regarded it with dismay, held it up to her and they both started laughing.

“There is literally not one thing in this house that doesn’t need repair. I mean—Claud, it’s a gut job.”

“Are you kidding?” she said from off-camera. “Look at this wainscoting.”

It had been original to the house; it restored beautifully. “And this chandelier.”

She panned to it. It had been grimy with dust, some of its glittering crystal teardrops missing. It too had come back to life with the help of her friend Blaire, who restored antiques. They were even able to find some crystal pieces online that matched almost perfectly. Today it shimmered over the dining room table.

She’d pointed the camera back at Ayers. He ran a hand through his thick, dark hair, then rubbed at the stubble on his jaw. She loved his hands, which were big and strong but still soft, gentle. “Well,” he said. “If anyone can do it. You can. You’re the strongest person I know.”

She remembered feeling embarrassed; it was so far from true. She wasn’t strong at all. She was a shivering wreck most of the time.

“I’m in,” he said. “Whatever you guys need. I think it will be good for Raven. A project, the country, distance from the city.”

The video ended when she tripped, the camera flying and landing in position to catch Ayers helping Claudia up.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” she said. They both cracked up again. She cut it there.

? ? ?

THE POST HAD BEEN UP there for a while, got a lot of views and comments.

So, that’s your EX husband? If my ex looked like that, I’d have held on tight.

You get that he still loves you, right?

Your ex is a hottie. He can restore my wainscoting any day. Wink, wink.

Can I get the name of the friend who refabbed your chandelier?

She watched the video a couple more times, thought of calling Ayers but didn’t. Sometimes talking to him just reminded her how much she wanted him here, helping her. How things were so much easier when she didn’t have to do them on her own. But she’d chosen this path. And she had no right to ask him for more than he already gave.

She checked the post about the fallen barn door, then wrote a few sentences about her plans to call Just Old Doors and have someone come out. She was rewarded with a swath of encouraging comments

Then she girded herself and headed downstairs, ready to rumble.





seven


Raven waved to her mother from the train window. She imagined that her mother was a stranger, someone she’d never seen before—a pretty lady, not old, not young, stylish in rolled-up jeans and oversized white shirt, red ballet flats, and big, glittery bag over her shoulder. Her blonde hair was up in a let’s-get-to-work messy bun; she had her sunglasses up on her head. She’d spend a minute when she got into the car looking for them before she remembered where they were. Ditzy, but smart ditzy. Take it easy on your mom, was her dad’s constant refrain. She’s been through a lot. Even Ella, whom Raven’s mom despised, was always ready to jump to her defense. We never understand our mothers until we are mothers ourselves. Until then, we should try not to judge. But, of course, we all judge them terribly.

Her mom was smiling bright and happy, but Raven could always tell when her smile was fake. Her eyes were sad, and Raven felt it, that horrible twist of wanting to stay and wanting to be away all at once. She pressed her palm against the glass, and her mom blew a kiss, gave another big wave before walking back to the truck. She thought about getting off at the next stop and going back. Maybe she would.

What’s up, buttercup?

Weird that her dad was texting her at exactly this moment. Like a poke in the ribs from the universe.

Not much. How’s St. Lucia?

Better than biology class. Lol. You’re on your way to class now, right?

He prided himself on knowing her exact schedule.

Yep. On my way there right now.

This was one of the little loopholes—and there were quite a few. One: Dad and Ella were having a long weekend in the Caribbean; they left after work last night. Mom didn’t know because it wasn’t supposed to be Dad’s weekend with Raven, and Dad would never tell Mom about it (unless Mom said, “Hey, what are you and Ella doing this weekend?” and she never would). Two: Raven showed her mom an old text, so Claudia never questioned that Raven was going where she said she was going. Three: Her mom and dad only communicated directly about scheduling when there was (a) something wrong or (b) coordination was required beyond texts and email. So there were all kinds of ways Raven could game the system to find a little freedom now and then.

Her parents didn’t hate each other—far from it, they actually seemed to like each other. It was more like it hurt too much for some reason to be near each other. Her mother had a very particular soft, apologetic tone that she used only with Ayers, and, likewise, Ayers treated Claudia like a bird he was trying to get not to fly away. Neither one of them had ever said a negative word about the other. And four: Raven had begged her mom not to tell her dad about the quasi-suspension. Usually, there would be no chance that Claudia would keep something like that from Ayers but this time, for some reason unknown to Raven, Claudia had agreed. Maybe because Claudia was trying so hard to make a fresh start, she didn’t want to admit that it wasn’t going as well as she’d hoped.