Anybody's Child by Michelle Kidd (polar express read aloud .TXT) 📕

spent last night back in her own room. Must be late morning, judging from the position of the sun slanting through her curtains. Everything seemed the same, yet different. Maybe she was different. Some of the anger had eased. The need to smash something or cry wasn’t overpowering. A step in the right direction.

Beth didn’t bother to see who might be in the driveway. No doubt, it would be more ladies bearing casseroles, pies, or sweets. Their countertops and fridge overflowed with food, despite the friends and family who had descended on the house after the funeral yesterday. Maybe that’s why her mood was lighter today. She’d never seen so many containers of fried chicken, deviled eggs, baked beans, and macaroni and cheese in her life. Five coconut cakes lined the countertop now. Most of the pastries and puddings had been refrigerated. It would be impossible to eat it all. But this was the south, and nothing said comfort like a Pyrex bowl of artery-clogging fat. Her lips curved into a wry smile. Beth sat up, spied the dark dress she’d taken off and draped over the chair, and thought how convenient it would be if grief were something a person could put on and take off as easily as clothing.

But she was better, wasn’t she? She considered the houseful of guests from the night before, a prospect she had dreaded. Yet to her surprise, as they reminisced, the stories were therapeutic. It helped to remember easier times when Mom had not acted so peculiar and overprotective. Somewhere in the midst of the many accounts voiced, her anger had eased to reluctant acceptance.

An unexpected warmth had surrounded her. Beth found herself laughing on a number of occasions. It had been good to remember happy times of her mom’s life. Choir members related how Mom loved to cut up during practice, and Lynne told them about getting lost in downtown Richmond. Beth never understood how someone as smart as her mother had been so bad with directions.

Beth realized something else last night—she guessed she’d always known. With everything so messed up, it was hard to sort out the truth. Deep down she knew neither Dad, nor Lynne was capable of an affair. Their grief was genuine. Yes, adults did crazy things, but they loved Mom. They would never hurt her. There wasn’t anything between them. And she knew, because she had watched for any sign—any sign at all. She’d talk to Dad about it today. There must be a reasonable explanation, despite his peculiar behavior. Who’s to say how a person should behave when grieving? Her own conduct had left her wondering if some strange alien had invaded her body. An image of herself morphing into a hulking green monster played through her mind.

She pushed aside the Marvel Comic character, along with her blanket, deciding on a bowl of leftover banana pudding for breakfast. It was the first time she’d had a taste for food in over a week.

Mindy and Dad sat at the kitchen table as she entered. Her sister had crayons, coloring what appeared to be one of the Disney princesses and eating a Pop Tart. She looked up briefly and waggled a finger of greeting before returning to her art. Dad sat digging through a box stuffed with paper. He hadn’t shaved, and he appeared not to notice she’d walked in.

Beth opened the fridge and pushed aside several dishes attempting to reach the milk. Almost everything was covered with tin foil, and suddenly, the banana pudding seemed too much trouble to hunt for.

“Morning, honey. Did you get any sleep last night?”

Beth pulled the jug from the fridge and set it down while she reached for a glass. “As a matter of fact, I did.”

“I wouldn’t drink that if I were you.” Her dad pointed to the container she’d placed on the counter. “We’ve got plenty of food, so I haven’t bothered to go to the store. That milk is . . .” He seemed to search for the right word.

“Expired?” Beth offered. “Don’t worry, you can say it. I’m not going to melt into a puddle of tears.” At least she didn’t think she would. She checked the date and discovered it was way past expiration. She twisted the cap, turned it up over the sink, and watched as it came out in clumps.

“Guess I’ll put run to the market on my to-do list.”

“Or I could go.” Beth surprised herself by volunteering.

“You don’t have to, I’ve—”

“Dad, it’s okay. I want to do something. I could even drop the stinkbug off at preschool if you need me to. But I’m not ready to go back to school,” she rushed on before he had time to suggest it. “I’ve been thinking home-school for a while. They have a homebound program for students who can’t attend for various reasons—I think this counts.”

Her dad gave her a doubtful frown. “Honey, are you sure it wouldn’t be better to be around your friends?”

“I’m sure. I’m just not ready.” Beth tossed the empty milk jug into the overflowing trash can. “I’m dealing with this, but I need more time.”

“All right, I’ll talk to your principal about other options. I’ll do it today. Now that I’ve been placed on administrative leave.”

Beth detected an edge to his voice regarding his pending investigation. “About that . . .”

Her dad shook his head and gave her a look that implied later, not in front of her sister. She lifted a shoulder and decided not to argue. “What’s that?” she asked. She regarded the box he’d been sifting through with curiosity.

“Nothing you’d find interesting.” He waved off her inquiry. “Adult stuff.” Although the way he hunched over the contents and avoided her eyes said differently.

Once more, Beth got the impression he was hiding something. She chewed the inside of her lip before responding. “Dad, did Mom ever mention a diary to you?”

“Diary?” That caught his attention. “What sort of diary?”

Her dad’s reaction caused her to hesitate. Hadn’t Mom said not to say anything? Certainly, she didn’t mean Dad. His gaze followed her as she returned to the fridge, took a pie-shaped dish out, and peeled back the foil before answering. “Like a journal, I guess. Not sure. She mentioned it months ago, then I forgot about it.” Beth rummaged for a utensil, pulled out a fork, and slid the drawer shut with her hip. “You know something about it?”

He eyed her a moment as if he were weighing the best way to answer. “Not really. What did she say?”

Beth studied him and shrugged, finding his reaction odd. She sat down at the table and turned to her sister. “Hey, stinkbug, whatcha coloring?”

“Princess Sophia.” Mindy held up the picture for Beth to admire.

“Nice.” She tilted her head and pretended to consider it a minute more. “I’m not sure about that color for her dress. Princess Sophia is on right now. Why don’t you go see?”

Mindy gave her an exasperated look. “I’m sure what it looks like, Beth.” Still, she gathered her stray crayons and slid off the chair. “You just want to talk to Daddy alone.” She cast an all-knowing expression in her sister’s direction.

Beth scrunched her face mimicking her sister. “You’re too smart for your own good sometimes.”

“I know,” she replied before trotting off to the other room with a coloring book, crayons, and that stupid purple elephant tucked beneath her arm.

“That girl is six going on sixty,” her dad said with an awkward chuckle.

Beth turned to her father, all traces of humor gone. “Dad, Detective Arnold told me about the email they found on your computer. He says something weird’s going on in your department, and he thinks you’re involved.” Beth took a breath to steady her nerves before continuing, watching the rising anger in her father’s face. “I’m not sure what’s happening, but I know you. Dad, you can trust me. Are you in some sort of trouble?”

 

Chapter 14 –Raven

Raven shoved the last bite of Milky Way into her mouth and drained her second bottle of Dr Pepper. She relished the sweet combination, swallowed, and tried to ignore the growing discomfort in her bladder. Her muscles ached from the cold. She should have worn a thicker jacket, but she hated bulky clothing. This one time perhaps it wouldn’t hurt to crank the engine and run the heater. But that would be foolish. She couldn’t afford to attract attention.

She sniffed. The smell of smoke from a wood-burning stove seeped through the car windows, although they were rolled up tight against the frigid air. A train rumbled in the distance, its sound traveling far in the winter night. She hunkered further into the seat, shoved her trash into a bag, and blew on her fingers for warmth.

Raven looked over the steering wheel. From her vantage point, she noticed figures moving inside the house—the girl’s house. At least she had tabs on her whereabouts. She still hadn’t tracked down Mackenzie. Every lead she’d followed had been a dead end. What had happened with the Shannon woman? Raven needed answers. Whatever Mack was up to, he was going to get them both in a lot of trouble—worse yet, killed.

A light came on in one of the upstairs bedrooms. Raven recognized the lithe shape belonging to the teenager. Her eyes narrowed. She watched. An hour passed, perhaps longer.

Finally, the girl changed into what appeared to be sleepwear. Raven shook her head. Someone should warn her to close her curtains. As if somehow sensing Raven’s thoughts, the dark figure turned and stepped from her view.

After a few minutes, she reappeared, this time, holding something to her ear. A cell phone? Who was she talking to at this hour? Unexpected jealousy pressed her insides. For a moment, Raven considered what it would be like to a have someone to confide in but quickly dismissed the thought. Never in her wildest dreams did she imagine herself giggling away into the night, on the phone without a care. Of course, she doubted Beth had much to laugh about these days. Raven didn’t envy her. The teen’s world had been flipped upside down.

Despite herself, Raven experienced a rare sense of empathy toward the kid. She knew well the devastation of losing a parent. Lurline Connors hadn’t been much of a mother, but she’d been the only one Raven had known. It was harder when you didn’t get along. There was the guilt and thinking what might have been if you’d been given more time. She wished someone had reached out to her and told her it got easier. Maybe . . .

Raven kicked herself. What was she thinking? She wasn’t in any position to offer advice. Anyway, some things you had to figure out for yourself.

Several dogs barked. The door opened three houses down the street. A woman clad in pajama bottoms and a T-shirt stepped out on the porch. Raven expected her to yell at the animals, but he did an odd little shuffle out to her car. From her dance across the lawn, she apparently had not taken the time to put on shoes. Raven rolled her eyes. Pajama gal did not linger long in the frosty air. She grabbed whatever item needed retrieving from the vehicle, sprinted back to