Chapter Ten
I am scouring more of the genealogy records when the phone rings. My mom answers by the second ring and I go back to my search, ignoring the one sided conversation. Or at least trying too.
“Arra,” my mom calls.
Annoyed at the interruption, I trudge into the living room. “Yeah, Mom?”
“That was your dad on the phone. He left his wallet here, and he won’t be home for a while yet. Would you mind running to the hospital for me?”
The hospital is a more than a mile from our house. With no metro trains, I don’t want to walk the entire way there and back. I am about to object when my mother holds out the keys to her car.
“Really?” I ask doubtfully. I just finished Driver’s Ed before we left Manhattan, but I can’t get my learner’s permit until after my birthday. My mom has never before allowed me to cheat and drive on my own. Her fear of letting a teenager drive among other cars is almost as great as having a gun in the house.
“The traffic’s not so bad here. I’m sure you’ll be fine, right? Your dad thought so. And it’s only a mile, right?” my mom says uncertainly. “Maybe you can stop and get us some ice cream on your way back.”
From the way my mom is clutching the keys in her nervous hands, I start to wonder whether my dad was behind the request from the beginning. He is trying just as hard as my mom to get me to accept Grainer as my new home. What neither of my parents realizes is that living in Grainer is the lowest thing on my list of worries right now.
“Well, get going. You’re father’s hungry. He needs a snack, at least.” My mom relinquishes the keys with a smile that is twitching at one corner. “Take this too,” she says, tossing me her cell phone. “Just in case.” She shrugs nervously and waves me out the door.
Excited, I dart across the lawn to the car. My mom’s car is a sensible Volvo S40. Known to be some of the safest cars in production, my mom refuses to drive anything but a Volvo. I turn the ignition and grin. Perhaps moving to Grainer will provide a few perks I wouldn’t have gotten in the city after all.
Enjoying the freedom the car provides, I make my way through the practically empty streets to the hospital. Given the fact that I can see the hospital from any high point in town, I make it to the main entrance fairly easily. I pull up to find my dad waiting for me in front of the big sliding doors that have a sign above it that reads “Emergency.” From the peaceful atmosphere, I doubt an actual emergency happens here very often.
My dad waves at me as he approaches the car. He seems pleased that my mom gave in to his suggestion. I jump out and hand him his wallet. “Hey, sweetheart, thanks for bringing me my wallet.”
“Yeah, no problem,” I say.
“How was the drive?” he asks, grinning widely.
“It was fine, Dad. Thanks for that by the way. I don’t know how you convinced mom to go along with it, being that this is potentially dangerous, and technically illegal.”
There is no point in denying it was his idea, so he just shrugs my thanks away. “There were what, three other cars on the road? I figured you could handle it without running off the road.” He smiles. “But don’t think this is going to become a regular occurrence.”
“I know, I know,” I say with a shake of my head. I want to spend a few more minutes with him, but his dinner hour is quickly wasting away. After a brief hug I start back to the car.
“Oh, hey, Dad, do you know where I can get some ice cream around here?” I ask.
“There’s a place on Main Street. You can’t miss it. It’s the only one in town,” he says, rolling his eyes dramatically, mocking me and all my complaints I’m sure. I just laugh. He joins in and kisses the top of my head before hurrying back inside.
Pulling back onto Main Street, I quickly find out why my dad was so sure I would be able to find the ice cream shop. The painted image of an ice cream cone towers a good five feet higher than any of the other buildings on the strip. After several attempts, I manage to parallel park the Volvo smack dab in front of the giant ice cream cone.
The ice cream parlor is exactly what I expected it to be, straight out of an episode of The Andy Griffith Show. I smile to myself and approached the counter. All I can see is a middle aged woman with her back to me. I’m not sure what she’s doing until I hear a screeching sound and see her turn to reveal a soft-serve ice cream machine. The woman behind the counter is too busy man-handling the machine to notice me at first.
“Excuse me?” I say.
“Oh. Sorry, I’ll be with you in a moment,” she says with a strained smile.
I nod, in no hurry to get back home. Studying the menu, I wonder what my mom will like. Jingling bells announce the arrival of another customer. I know a total of four people in this town, but I still want to see who it is. I glance back at the door. The dim evening light shadows the three young men pushing each other through the door. I grin. Speaking of people I know ….
“Tanner,” the woman behind the counter says with relief, “thanks for coming down. I can’t get this dang thing to spin right. Every time I take the blade out to wash it, I can’t get it to go back in. This machine drives me nuts.” She looks thoroughly embarrassed to be discussing the malfunction in front of a customer. “Sorry for the delay.”
“Don’t worry about it,” I reply. “Hey, Tanner.”
“Hey, Arra. What are you up to?” he asks as he climbs up the step ladder to see the inside of the ice cream machine better.
“Arra,” the woman says, glancing at Tanner. “Arrabella Malo, the new doctor’s daughter?”
“That would be me.”
“She prefers Arra, Mom, not Arrabella,” Tanner says as he yanks on the blade.
“How nice to meet you, Arra,” she says extending her hand. A quick smile flashes in Tanner’s direction. “Tanner told me about meeting you yesterday. I was hoping I’d run into you soon.”
Tanner sighs and rolls his eyes. “Arra, this is my mom, Cheryl. Mom, this is Arra.” Metal grinding against metal turns Cheryl’s attention back to the ice cream machine.
“For goodness sake, Tanner, don’t break the damn thing!”
“It’s fine, Mom.” Tanner turns the machine on with a satisfied smile. Cheryl smirks at his success. Stepping down from the ladder, Tanner turns his attention back to me. “So, uh, you want some ice cream?”
“That was the plan,” I say. “Are you going to get it for me?” I bite back a laugh as he makes his way behind the counter.
“What would you like?” Tanner asks. The counters had obviously been built to match his mother’s shorter height. Tanner looks a little out of place, having to bend significantly to dig the ice cream out of the tubs.
“I’ll have a mocha cone,” Evan interrupts.
Jackson glances at me. He looks partially apologetic for his friend’s rude behavior, but equally hungry. I wave him on. “Cookies and cream for me,” Jackson says.
Tanner hurriedly scoops out the ice cream and hands them over the sneeze guard. “Now, beat it.” His two friends laugh mockingly, but head to a table by the window. “Sorry,” he says.
“Don’t worry about it. What should I get?”
“Um, what do you like?” he asks.
“Well, I like chocolate, and my mom likes anything with raspberries in it,” I say.
Without answering, Tanner goes to work. He works the scoop into an almost black tub labeled Brownie Bonanza. The ice cream sits rather lopsided on the cone when he’s done with it. He presses it down into the cone, trying to keep it from falling off. “I was never very good at this,” Tanner admits.
“I’m sure it tastes fine,” I say. “What do you recommend for my mom?”
“Definitely the raspberry sorbet, but I’ll wait to get that until you’re ready to leave.” Tanner takes a big scoop of peanut butter fudge and plops it on a cone for himself.
“And what makes you think I’m not ready to leave right now?” I ask, a smile playing on my lips. I want to stay, but my
mom will definitely have a fit if I wait any longer. I don’t want another lecture about how she almost had to call my dad away from the hospital.
“How can you resist a man with free ice cream?” Tanner laughs.
He is lucky his friends are far enough away not to have heard that. Evan would have died of laughter. Tanner himself looks fairly embarrassed that the lame line actually came out of his mouth. I am about to explain why I need to leave when a sharp ring springs from my pocket. For once, I am actually glad my mom called to see if I’ve been in a car accident or stung by a killer bee.
I snatch the phone from my jeans and answer it. “Hi, Mom.”
“Arra, where are you? I thought you’d be back by now.”
“Mom, I stopped to get ice cream, remember? There was a little problem with their ice cream machine so I had to wait a few minutes,” I explain.
“Oh, okay. I was just worried. How’s the car?”
“Mom, were not in Manhattan anymore. Relax. I’m fine. The car’s fine. Everything’s fine,” I say, getting annoyed again. Tanner stands waiting, pretending to watch his friends. “Actually, Mom, do you mind if I’m out a little longer? I ran into Tanner. His mom owns the ice cream shop.”
“Tanner? The boy from yesterday?”
“How many other Tanners do I know, Mom?”
“Well, I guess that’s alright then. Just don’t be too long.”
“Thanks, Mom. See you in a little while.”
I close the phone and return it to my pocket.
“You want to sit down?” Tanner asks. He has obviously been listening to every word. That probably should seem rude to me, but I doubt anything Tanner might do will annoy me too much.
“Sure. Lead the way,” I say.
Tanner leads me to a table as far away from his friends as possible, which still isn’t very far, since the dining area is only slightly bigger than our living room. We take our chairs and silence falls over us. I taste my ice cream, trying to keep it from dripping all over my hand, and try to think of something to say. The chocolate is dark and strong and incredibly distracting. I can’t think of anything else at the moment.
“Do you like it?”
“It’s really good, Tanner, thanks,” I say honestly. I wonder whether his mom will teach me how to make this. I could eat it every day.
“Thank my mom. She makes all the ice cream herself. She banned me from working in the store a long time ago,” Tanner admits. “But to be perfectly honest, ice cream is the only thing she can make. If she tries to invite you over for dinner, run.”
I laugh. “Seriously?”
Tanner nods. “Just don’t tell her I told you that.”
“I won’t, but thanks for the warning.”
We drift back into silence as we eat our ice cream. I notice Tanner’s mother make her way back into the kitchen. She looks at me with an appraising smile. I am suddenly sure that Cheryl will run into my mother very soon. Mother’s can’t help but gossip about their children, it would seem. I remember all too well going through this before with my brother David. I found it amusing then, but not so much now when I know I am about to become the center of the gossip and planning.
“Would you like to practice archery with me again sometime?” Tanner asks suddenly.
Surprised, I swallow my ice cream slowly to force myself from jumping at the invitation. “I don’t know if I could take the embarrassment,” I say drily.
“You can use my sister’s bow next time. It’s smaller, so you should be able to draw it a little easier,” he promises.
“I wouldn’t count on that,” I say. “I’ve really never been that great at sports.”
“Well, you won’t know unless you try. I can teach you.” Tanner catches a large drip of ice cream before it splatters on the table. “Besides,” he says, “you’ve got to find something to occupy your time now that you live here. Like you said, there’s not that much to do in Grainer.”
Caught by my own words, I smile. I, of course, intended to accept his invitation from the start, but watching him try to convince me has me and Tanner’s mother grinning. “As long as you promise not to laugh,” I agree.
“Deal. What are you doing tomorrow?” Tanner asks, grinning shamelessly now. I can’t resist laughing.
“I’ll probably be at my grandpa’s house. He’s, uh, helping me with a project. I mean I’m helping him with a project.” Tanner glances at me with a puzzled expression. Project, I think, berating myself for the bad word choice. What, am I in summer school or something?
“What kind of project?”
Why did I say project? Why didn’t I just say I was helping him clean out his garage, or something that actually made sense?
“A family history thing. I’m helping my grandpa write down some of our family’s stories,” I say. It isn’t completely untrue. I quickly put those kinds of thoughts out of my mind, though, determined to enjoy a moment of normalcy.
“Oh, that’s cool. Will you be there all day?” he asks. Our ice cream is almost gone. Evan and Jackson have already finished theirs and are trying to get Tanner’s mother to give them a little more. I don’t want to leave, but if I really have to, I want to walk away knowing I will see Tanner again soon.
“I guess I might be free after lunch,” I say.
“Do you want me to pick you up?”
“Sure, but would you mind picking me up at my grandpa’s instead of my house? Then I won’t have to walk all the way back home,” I say. The last thing I want to deal with is a curious mother or an over protective father.
“No problem,” Tanner replies. “I guess I better get you that raspberry sorbet.”
I finish off the last couple bites of my ice cream cone and follow Tanner back to the counter. His mom already has the dessert ready. Tanner looks a little disappointed, and actually, so am I. Cheryl’s thoughtful gesture stole a few more minutes I could have delayed leaving the shop. Not wanting to show my feelings, I thank her for the ice cream and walk out of the store with Tanner.
When we get around to the driver’s side of the car Tanner reaches for the door handle before I can, and opens the door for me. I have to resist the urge to giggle like an idiot. “You have ice cream and you open doors for me, you are pretty irresistible,” I say. It’s just as dorky as what Tanner said earlier, but he beams at the compliment anyway.
Tanner steps in a little closer and I suddenly become aware of the raspberry ice cream slowly melting in my hand. Why does my mom have to like ice cream? A bead of condensation rolls off the ice cream cup and over one of my fingers. I wonder if Tanner’s body heat is making it melt even quicker. Based on how fast my own heart is going, my body heat is enough to turn it into soup if I don’t get home soon.
“I’m glad I ran into you today,” Tanner says. “I wanted to drop by your house and see if you were busy, but I thought you might really start to think I was stalking you.”
“I probably would have,” I tease, “but having a stalker is significantly better than being bored to tears.”
Tanner leans against the car, his arm pressing against mine. He stares at the building across from us, but like me, I am sure his mind it is focused on how easy it would be for one of us to take the other’s hand.
“So, you really wouldn’t mind me stopping by some time,” Tanner asks. The measure of hesitancy in his voice is reassuring. For all his apparent confidence, it’s nice to know he might be just as nervous as I am.
“Tanner, I have been so miserable since we moved here, you have no idea. You’ve been the only bright spot so far. You’re welcome to come rescue me whenever you want.”
My breathing nearly stops when Tanner turns toward me and slides his hand along me cheek to my hair. “I was really hoping you’d say that,” he says with a smile.
For a moment, I am absolutely convinced he’s about to kiss me. I can feel my head starting to swim from lack of oxygen. Fear that I will faint in front of him is the only thi
ng that prompts me to finally take a breath. I want him to kiss me. I want to forget everything and fill my mind with Tanner. An icy cold trail of water sliding off the cup of ice cream still in my hand tickles my palm, drawing my eyes involuntarily to the melting mess.
“I guess I better let you get home before your mom’s ice cream melts,” he says.
“It might be a little late for that.”
Tanner chuckles. “I suppose I should let you salvage what’s left then. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
His fingers lift gently from my cheek, but trail down my arm slowly. The way he pauses, squeezing my hand gently, nearly does me in. I nod. It’s all I could do at this point. I just want him to lean in a little closer, but he slowly backs away.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” I say when I finally manage to form words again.
Forcing myself to get into the car, I smile as Tanner pushes the door closed. He lingers for just a second before stepping back and moving onto the sidewalk. I drive away wishing it was already tomorrow afternoon.
After handing off my mom’s slightly soupy sorbet, I spend the rest of the evening scouring the pages of the genealogy records for the ill-fated souls I know exist somewhere in my family’s past. That and thinking about Tanner. Even the eerie list of dead girls isn’t enough to throw him completely out of my mind.
Having looked through my mom’s entire genealogy collection, I find only two more girls before the history ends. Anise Malo died at sixteen years old in 1847, and Linnet, who died in 1817. She was only sixteen years old, too. I add their names to the list I started, needing no pictures to know that they would also have had the telling raven hair and silvery eyes.
I am physically and emotionally drained by the time I finally make it through the last of the notebooks. I can hardly even feel the despair anymore. I can’t feel anything, not even the memory of Tanner’s closeness. A sense of inevitability creeps over me. My earlier hopes of surviving this frightening chain have quietly slipped away. Name after name, death after death assures me of my fate.
I can no longer pretend I will somehow live. Whatever my grandpa has been planning, there is no way it can possibly work. If there was a way, wouldn’t somebody have found it by now? No, I know that I will die in three days. That thought stays with me as I push the binders and papers off my bed and drift into a troubled sleep.