A dog barked from across the street. Startled, Abby turned while continuing to walk, doing a complete three-sixty while managing not to slip on the snow and ice. No dog. No animal anywhere. No one else was on the street. A couple cars idled in driveways. Exhaust vapors, illuminated by streetlights and outside house lights, billowed out from mufflers and rose, twisted, curled, and finally disappeared into the cold gray morning.
Abby stopped at the corner where her street, Cherry Street, intersected Elm Street, which in turn intersected with all the other ‘tree’ streets in her neighborhood: Oak and Maple to the west, Pine and Spruce to the east. Abby headed east on Elm in the direction of Josh’s house, twenty minutes away walking distance. She entered the tunnel formed by the skeletal arms and gnarled fingers of the elm and oak branches reaching for each other across the narrow ribbon of black and snowy asphalt. The trees lining both sides of the street lent a cozy (if at times claustrophobic) atmosphere to the neighborhood, especially in the summer when they overflowed with leaves.
Abby liked this neighborhood. A lot. She knew her neighbors by name. She had friends her own age that lived near her—Jennifer Dayton, Sarah Dellasantro, and Leanne Sullivan all lived within a ten minute walk of her house—and she felt safer in this part of Old Wachusett than she would have if she lived in a different neighborhood, like the lower Green Street neighborhood near the center and The Hub at the northern edge of the city. Places Abby wouldn’t feel safe walking at night. Not that she’d get mugged or murdered, not anything that serious, but maybe accosted by a couple drunks who might try copping a feel off her. She didn’t have to worry about that living in the Tree Street section of Old Wachusett.
Another thing she liked about living here was the view it afforded her of Wachusett Mountain to the northwest. It wasn’t a tall mountain by any stretch, rising only a smidge over two thousand feet, thereby technically qualifying as a mountain. There were talks of building a ski resort on the mountain, and Abby hoped those talks would never come to fruition. She enjoyed going for long runs in the spring, summer, and fall on the dozens of paths that traversed the mountain, losing herself on the trails that wound their way through the firs and spruce and maples and birches, no one to bother her while she got lost in her thoughts. She feared what building a ski resort would do to that. Plus, there were two old-growth sections on the mountain with trees that were as much as four hundred years old. It would be a shame to have any of that disturbed, all for the sake of making a few bucks by providing a winter playground for the wealthier residents in the area, most of whom did not live in Old Wachusett.
Abby shook the thought out of her head. As she strode up the sidewalk, careful to avoid ice patches, her breath morphed into wispy vapors in the cold February air. The hood of the parka was fully extended into her field of view, giving her tunnel vision by blocking out the houses on either side of the street. If anyone in those houses had happened to look outside and see her, that person might think Abby had everything under control. A quick and steady pace, head held high, a picture of control and composure. If only that were true. Behind the façade was a girl trying to figure out how life had gone so entirely down the toilet so quickly. As if living the fishbowl life of a preacher’s kid wasn’t bad enough—especially when the preacher was single—her father had to go and royally flush it all to hell. How could he have done that to her?
On top of that, there was Josh. Her first boyfriend, her first kiss, her first time around first and second base (Josh had tried stealing third, but Abby had called him out less than halfway down the base path). Then getting dumped for the first time in her life. On Thanksgiving break. How it was even possible that such a thing had happened to her was beyond comprehension. She hadn’t done anything to Josh to deserve it. She’d given him everything. Well, almost everything. But that one thing she’d kept might have been his one day if only he’d stayed with her. But he hadn’t, Abby thought. So get over it. Get over him. She was trying to get over him, she really was.
But now she had to rely on Josh to get her to Albany. To get her to her mother.
Abby hitched the knapsack farther up her back and burrowed her gloved hands deeper inside the coat pockets. She had a little ways to go before she would cross Oak Street and turn right onto Spruce. She would follow that to the end, take a left onto Woodlawn Avenue, and follow that until it intersected with Clark Street. Right onto Clark, left onto Leo Drive, and to the house at the end of the cul-de-sac where Josh lived.
Where Julian had lived. Until—
No. She could not, absolutely could not allow her thoughts to go there. She had no idea how Julian had popped into her head, but if she allowed herself to dwell on Julian…well…no. It would turn her mind to mush to think about that. Although it was true that Josh had been Abby’s first official boyfriend, it was equally not true that he had been the first one she’d had feelings for. But, again, if she dwelt on that stuff it would send her thoughts all over the place, and right now she needed to focus on what was ahead of her in Albany.
And concerning that, Abby had no idea why her father was so reluctant to fulfill his promise to take her to her mother’s gravesite. Yes, she knew he had things he needed to do this week, but that didn’t negate his promise to her. But even given that, even before any of this had happened, Abby had mentioned going to Albany on a couple of occasions in the past, and each time her father either dodged the question or gave numerous reasons—which, in hindsight, could be seen as excuses—why he couldn’t take her at the time. He was hiding something. There had to be something at the graveyard, or in Albany, or maybe even inside her father himself that he did not want her to find. Bringing her to Albany would reveal whatever it was, and he obviously did not want that to happen. Abby had no idea what ‘it’ was, but ‘it’ sure had to be something.
Abby shook her head. As she started to cross Pine Street she remembered something her father used to tell her, but before she could dwell on that thought for long her feet disappeared out from under her; she’d walked onto a patch of ice. She fell smack on her derriere with a jaw-crunching landing. For good measure, her tongue got caught in the crunch of her teeth, and that felt so good.
Thankfully, as far as she could tell, no one had witnessed her fine performance on the ice. She slid herself off the ice, got to her knees, brushed her rear end, and managed to stand. A picture of control and composure. Yeah, sure. She rubbed her rear end, but it did absolutely nothing to ease the pain or boost her self-esteem. She got to the other side of the street.
And just like that, with everything that had happened in the past few months condensed into one momentary fall to the ice, Abby saw it clearly. She was alone. No one close enough to catch her as she fell. No one to extend a hand to lift her up off her rear end. No one there for her at all.
Empty words spoken by her father came to mind. Remember, sweetheart, whenever you’re in trouble to call on your Heavenly Father. He will never leave you nor forsake you. He had told her that she could rest assured in the knowledge that God would always answer her prayers in a timely manner and in a way that would benefit her the most according to his will. Which was a roundabout way of saying that the Man upstairs was under no obligation whatsoever to answer her prayer the way she wanted.
Yeah, thanks for the advice, Dad, Abby thought, fighting back the tears. Sorry, but the curtain was pulled back on that little Wonderful Wizard of Oz fairy tale a long time ago, revealed for what it was: a hoax, ranking right up there with the Easter Bunny, Santa Claus, the Tooth Fairy, and the Fairy Godmother. Fakes, all of them, nothing but fakes and lies and fairy tales all to make people feel good and not have to face the sad, inevitable truth.
We are alone.
Abby felt her tongue and looked at her fingers. Sure enough—blood. Great. Exactly what she needed. Luckily, she hadn’t bitten off the tip of her tongue. Luck. Instead of God, she was reduced to relying on luck. Maybe she should consult one of those stupid Magic 8-Balls with the answers floating in blue liquid that had been popular with all the kids the past few years. Josh had one of those inane things that he brought to school all the time, sneaking it out during study periods, asking it silly questions.
Will we get a pop quiz in history next period? YES DEFINITELY
Will Doug dump Beverly? DON’T COUNT ON IT
Will I hit a homerun with Abby tonight? VERY DOUBTFUL
Josh assumed everyone else thought it was funny. Most of his friends thought it was childish, but none of them dared say anything to Josh about it.
Abby could only imagine the answers she’d get to her questions. They probably wouldn’t be much better than the one’s she’d already got from the God who supposedly loved her beyond measure.
Why did Josh break up with me? ASK AGAIN LATER.
Why did my father betray me and everyone else? REPLY HAZY, TRY AGAIN.
Why did my mother have to die and leave me here all alone? BETTER NOT TELL YOU NOW.
And what the hell am I doing? NOBODY, INCLUDING YOU SWEETHEART, HAS THE FAINTEST IDEA!
With that last thought, Abby stopped. What had she been thinking? She couldn’t go through with this. She scanned the neighborhood, her eyes going from house to house. Most of them had lights on as families woke up and ate breakfast and prepared for the day. A day off from school for the kids, which meant snowball fights and sledding. For the dads it meant going to work, pumping gas and manufacturing wood chairs and unloading railroad cars and selling cars and repairing appliances and fixing oil burners and setting broken arms. Moms would stay at home and cook and do laundry and change diapers and wipe poopy bums. All of it so mundane. So normal.
So safe.
A car puttered up the street from behind her. A green sedan passed, its amber directional signaling a left turn. It pulled into a driveway. A man dressed in dirty work clothes got out of the car, probably returning from the late shift at one of the furniture factories. He opened the side door and disappeared inside the house. Abby heard the door click closed behind him. Through the front bay windows she saw two silhouetted figures embrace each other. After a moment they separated and faded into the shadows.
Abby definitely could not go through with this. She stood in the middle of the sidewalk, Pine Street behind her, Spruce Street ahead, and she knew there was no way she could make it to Albany on her own. What had she been thinking? She turned back in the direction of Cherry Street, in the direction of her home and her father. In the direction of safety. Sure, her life had been hell lately—sorry for the vulgar language, Dad, but it’s the honest-to-goodness truth—but travelling across the state to Albany? What would that solve? Sure, she’d see her mother’s grave, but she knew she’d need someone else there with her—anyone besides Josh—that she could trust in that moment with whatever she might find there.
Abby lowered her head and started to retrace her way back home. Before she got too far, she stopped herself. I can’t do this, either, she thought. I can’t go back to him. I can’t give up the ground I gained this morning. If I go back, then what? She looked back toward the direction of Cherry Street, at the distance she had covered this morning, and thought about what it represented. She hadn’t gone very far physically, but it might be far enough for a brand new start to her life. To go back now…that would be the wrong thing to do. She was pretty sure that would be wrong.
Tilting her head up at the gray clouds, Abby heard the voices from her past—Sunday school teachers, youth group leaders, even her father’s—telling her that somewhere up there, beyond the clouds and planets and stars and Milky Way galaxy and maybe even beyond the entire universe, was heaven. Which meant God Himself was up there right now. Right? Because if that was true, then it meant that Abby was looking directly at Him right now. Beyond the solar system and the asteroids and the comets and the blackest of space was the Creator, the Holy One of Israel, the Ancient of Days, her one and only Heavenly Father that supposedly loved her and would always take care of her, would never ever leave her nor forsake her nor forget her name nor stop loving her.
And that must mean that He was looking directly down at her. Right?
Right.
“Do you even care about any of this?” Abby raised a clenched fist at the sky, her cold, slender, gloved fingers clutching all her dreams and hopes and fears. And pain. “Do you care about me?”
A pale blue AMC Gremlin chugged down Elm Street toward Abby. It sounded like it was choking to death as it spit blue smoke out its tail pipe. Abby jerked her fist down to her side and unclenched her fingers. Everything she had held in her fist and had raised in protest at the clouds now spilled invisibly to the dirty snow on the sidewalk. She turned her face away from the car. It coughed and continued down the street.
Abby glanced up at the clouds again. She blinked away the image of a white surface floating in blue liquid inside a black 8-ball, the mocking words DON’T COUNT ON IT etched in black.
Just the answer she figured she’d get from the One so high and mighty. Not that it mattered. Abby didn’t need to look up to an invisible, apathetic God playing hide-and-seek in heaven while his hapless subjects struggled for survival down here on the big blue marble. She didn’t need to count on anyone anymore for anything. From now on, everything in her life, everything that would happen to her, and everything that she would do was up to her. She would grab the reigns of her life and take all the responsibility from here on out. No more waiting for her father to fix things, no more wishful thinking that Josh would take her back, and absolutely no more futile attempts at connecting to a freakish higher power that only seemed to relish in hiding Himself when people needed Him the most. No more any of that.
Abby Lynne Graham was now in total and complete control of her own destiny.
Making up her mind for good, Abby turned back in the direction she had been going, away from her home, away from her father, and toward her mother.
A gust of wind rattled the branches above her, shaking frozen clumps of snow loose so that they plopped onto the sidewalk. She picked up her pace, trying to hurry while at the same time being careful not to fall again.
Abby peeked over her shoulder; no sign of her father coming after her, seeking the prodigal daughter. Good.
That was…good.
She didn’t need him.
Right?