The Past and Other Things That Should Stay Buried(49)

July glances my way like she doesn’t trust I’m not going to still be naked. She looks relieved to see I’m clothed. Which makes two of us. “How are you going to get me out of here?”

“The window?”

“We’re on the second floor,” she says. “And you saw how easy my thumb came off. What happens if I fall and break a bone? Doubt it’ll heal.”

“Good point.”

“Well?” July says. “Hurry up and think. I can’t stay in your closet forever.”

Lack of sleep is making everything difficult. There are so many thoughts in my brain, and I can’t process them. “Okay. Fine. We’re going to have to sneak you into the office until we find a more permanent hiding place.”

July doesn’t look impressed with my plan and, to be fair, it isn’t so much a plan as it is the only idea I could come up with in under a minute.

“Follow me,” I say.

I poke my head out my door and peer down the hallway. Mom and Dad’s bedroom door is open, and their bed is made, which is usually a sign they’ve gone to the kitchen for breakfast. Dee’s door is shut, but I’m betting she’s still with Grandma.

I wave July on, and we make for the stairs. I pause when I reach the bottom, and July stops on the landing.

“It smells god-awful in there.” Grandma’s voice drifts in amid the sounds of sizzling butter and clanking pans. “Does Jennifer ever clean?”

“Jenn and I both do the cleaning, Mom, but Dino is old enough to be responsible for his own room. I’ll have him clean it today.”

“No, no. I’ll take care of it,” Grandma says. “Speaking of Dino, where is he? Delilah, tell your brother breakfast is nearly ready.”

The sound of a chair scraping against the tile sends a chill down my spine. “Run!” I whisper to July, and she stumbles while turning and has to claw herself to her feet. She’s not going to make it so I rush to the end of the stairs and plow into Dee, nearly taking us both down.

“Jesus, Dino, what’s the rush?” She glares at me and pushes me off.

“Smelled the bacon.”

“Good,” she says, though she still sounds annoyed. “Grandma says it’s ready.” She moves to walk past me, and I stick my arm out to lean against the wall and block her path.

“Aren’t you hungry?”

“I’m not eating so much as a carrot between now and tomorrow. My wedding dress fits perfectly, and I refuse to mess that up over a stack of pancakes.”

“You can’t seriously expect the grandparents to let you not eat. The rehearsal dinner’s tonight.”

Dee shoves me aside, rolling her eyes. “I don’t have time for you this morning, Dino.” She stomps up the stairs, disappears into her room, and slams the door. A few seconds later, July’s head pops around the corner. I wave at her, and she rushes down the stairs.

If death weren’t suspended, the stress of this would kill me. I reach the front door and hold it open for July to stealthily dash through. The biggest problem is that the kitchen window looks across the lawn, but there’s no way to avoid that. I have to hope no one’s standing at the sink when we make a break for it.

My hands tremble with the keys at the office door, but I open it and stand aside to let July in. I’m about to follow her when a voice stops me.

“Dino?”

Mom’s standing at the corner of the far side of the office, holding one hand behind her back. She doesn’t speak for a second, but then she blows out a mouthful of smoke that drifts on the air and disappears.

I let the door swing shut and then slip my keys into my pocket. “Are you smoking?”

Sheepishly, Mom brings out her hand and holds the lit cigarette in front of her. “What are you doing?” Her deflection makes me smile. Of all my mom’s rebellions, it’s the smoking she’s embarrassed about. Which, yeah, I don’t like it, but it’s nice to know she’s not perfect.

“Uh . . . looking for the portable fan,” I say. “You know how Grandma Sue’s perfume gets to my head. I checked the garage, and I thought I’d look in the office.” It’s a passable lie, and I’m actually pretty proud of myself for thinking so quickly on my feet.

Mom nods. “Sorry about Sue. She showed up this morning without warning and called your father to say she was outside.” She pauses. “Were you having nightmares? I heard you talking to yourself when I got up.”

“Yeah,” I say. “Lots of dreams. Don’t remember them.” I quickly change the subject. “Are you hiding?”

“I was inside balancing the books, if you must know.” She holds my eyes for a full ten seconds before breaking down and saying, “Fine, I’m hiding.” She clenches her fists and her temples pulse in and out. “I am forty-four years old and that woman still makes me feel like I’m sixteen. She never wanted me to work with your father even though I’m ten times better at it than he is. And she thinks I should spend my time cooking and cleaning and taking care of you kids.”

Mom puffs hard on the cigarette; the cherry flares like the sun.

“You do,” I say. “You’re the most organized mom I know. And unlike most of the families in Palm Shores, you do it without a maid service.”