Page 13 of Hearts Don't Lie
Mac surveyed the bathroom—a closet, shower, toilet, large vanity, pristine fixtures, and light—bright compared to the flickering dim wattage in the trailer’s tiny bathroom. He even had a window.
Mac’s showers were restricted to two minutes in a space where, no matter how little she moved, water leaked all over the floor. Water service had been intermittent for years, getting worse as she grew up. Alicia kept several gallon jugs on hand for when the service was turned off, often without notice, or when they received a boil notice.
Sleepovers at Mac’s friends’ homes had become a priority as soon as she understood the sounds coming through the paper-thin door of Alicia’s small room and why their trailer rocked when the boyfriends visited. Some of theboyfriendseyeballed Mac leeringly when her body began changing. Despite Alicia’s lack of maternal instincts and usual state of drunkenness, she had noticed and protected Mac. She also grew threatened by her daughter’s burgeoning beauty.
As soon as Mac began earning money, she started saving for a used bike to provide her freedom and a mode to get away should she need it. And she had, leaving in the deep black of numerous nights, riding her bike into town, the bike’s light a beacon guiding her.
Awards and trophies cluttered Hardin’s shelves. Mac hadn’t been able to keep any of hers except the medals. There was no extra space.
“You’re so lucky to have all this room,” she said, admiring his All-Academic, All-State plaques. And then she heard the unmistakable sound of a car door, then three more in quick succession.What the hell?“Hardin?”
He sprinted to the window and pulled the curtain to the side. “Dammit! My parents are here! With the Barlows!” He ushered her toward the bathroom and opened the window. “Stand in the shower but keep an eye on the windows.”
“What?”
He opened the glass door and shoved her in. “Can you see the windows?”
She nodded, speechless and confused. They hadn’t done anything. Why were they sneaking around? Mac watched Hardin open a window in his bedroom too.
“I’m going downstairs. I’ll put a ladder up to one of the windows. You climb down.”
And then he was gone.
The lights in the hallway extinguished. Somehow his greeting to his parents and their friends carried into the bathroom. Maybe he was talking loudly or maybe it was a trick of the house. Mac heard Hardin explain that he had brought a friend over to show her the house, but she had felt sick and forgotten her purse. He didn’t mention her shoes that she had slipped off as a sign of respect by the front door, which he closed loudly behind him.
The hall lit up brightly. McKenna backed farther into the shower, trying to regulate her breathing, trying to somehow hide herself behind the frosted glass, but instead she nudged the lever. Cold water trickled down her back. She turned it off soundlessly, tiptoeing out, lodging herself between the toilet and the shower, hoping she was invisible.
Through the doorway, she watched Mrs. Ambrose pad in cautiously after flipping the light switch and stop in the middle of the bedroom, listening. Mac didn’t breathe or move. Hardin’s mother scanned the room slowly but kept her back to the bathroom. She opened the closet door and peered inside, running her hands through what few shirts hung within. She exited and stood in the hallway.
Mac’s heart pounded in her chest as Mrs. Ambrose entered again, halted in the center of Hardin’s room, and then got down on all fours and tucked her skirt behind her knees before crouching farther to look under his bed. She got to her feet and became motionless once again, appearing to be thinking and listening as she focused on the open window before approaching and closing it. Pausing again, she listened before going to his closet. Mac fought to breathe slowly and quietly as Mrs. Ambrose moved things carefully around like she thought something might jump out at her. Satisfied, she stepped back and cocked her head, then zeroed in on the bathroom before walking straight to the open window, turning around after shutting it.
Icy blue eyes mirrored the terror in Mac’s, who stood paralyzed against the wall, water and sweat sluicing between her back and the thin, striped shirt she wore.
Both of them screamed at the same time. Then, piercing stillness.
In a shaky voice, Mac confessed, “I don’t feel so good.” And she didn’t. Nausea and fear roiled in her gut. Peripherally, she saw the top of a silver ladder wavering outside the window in Hardin’s adjoining bedroom. The ladder banged around and then rested on the sill. He had to be kidding.
Mrs. Ambrose whipped around 180 degrees, strode to the bedroom window and threw it open. She extended herself out, hanging precariously over the driveway two stories below. Her white-haired head turned way left and her posture morphed into stillness.
“HARDIN! YOU GET UP HERE RIGHT NOW!”
Heavy steps bounded up the carpeted treads and into Hardin’s bedroom. Mr. Ambrose blew into the room, huffing from exertion.
“What’s going on here?” he asked loudly. The expression on his lined face changed from alarm to irritation as his eyes shifted between his wife and Mac, who stared at the blue and white tiles and searched for courage.
More steps pounded up the stairs. Thick dark hair entered the room before the rest of Hardin’s lean frame. Guilt etched his amazing blue eyes. Hardin skidded to a halt.
“What were you thinking?” The question was rhetorical because his mother immediately followed with “Take her home. Now.”
Her.Did Hardin’s parents even know her name? Fear and shame manifested as acidic bile and silence. Mac swallowed convulsively and wished herself into oblivion. She scrambled down the stairs behind her brilliant boyfriend, halting to acknowledge the Barlows on the couch in the living room, holding fresh cocktails.
The husband elbowed and winked slyly at his wife, causing heat to flush up Mac’s neck and into her face. Laughter erupted from the Barlows as she grabbed her purse and shoes and raced out with Hardin.
Mac was in tears when she got into the Jeep.
“Dammit. I’m so sorry,” he said, gathering her to him. “I’m so, so sorry.”
She gulped down the tears until there were no more. “Let’s go.”
