Chapter Twenty-Three
Devyn
Ido what Rick asks, and I don’t bother him again.
Beau offered to fly me into Cedar Hill when I visited for Thanksgiving, but I declined needing my car and my freedom after the holiday weekend. On my way out of town that Sunday afternoon, I searched for Mom on the streets near Camden Way and along Arrowhead Alley.
While I dug for scraps against Stevie, I got to know the underbelly of Cedar Hill well. I made connections with snitches, druggies, homeless shelter directors, the elderly priest who prays over his meagre congregation at an old Catholic St. Joseph’s church. Because of Talia, I never approached people with judgment or censure; I treated everyone with respect. When I walked the cold streets, garbage blowing in the wind, people huddled around fires flickering from old oil barrels, they greeted me with tired eyes, faint smiles on cracked lips.
I am one of them, fighting the same war, and they welcomed me on their turf.
I’d prepared for their need and stopped at a big-box store and bought them out of coats, jackets, scarves, mittens, gloves, and hats. Because of the job Barney gave me and Rick paying Talia’s rehab bill, money, for once, is the least of my worries, and I paid Rick’s kindness forward.
As I searched for Mom, I gave away the gloves and mittens, wrapped scarves around women and children. I pressed money into trembling hands, and I prayed with Father Will over soup I helped ladle in the basement of his church.
No matter where I am, I will always do what I can knowing that until Stevie Johansson is behind bars, it’s not enough.
It will never be enough.
I scoured the streets until midnight, but I didn’t find Mom. Several people assured me they’d look out for her, and it’s the best I could do. I gave Father Will an envelope with her name on it. She’ll spend the money on Sweet, but maybe, if he catches her on a good day, she’ll buy a little food, too.
The thought of Talia on the streets doing that sends shivers down my spine. I don’t want her to go back there; the temptation is too great. Sweet is on every corner, the toll etched on every face.
The drive back to Portland was long and lonely. I wish Rick would have been with me, walking with me while I searched for Mom, steadying me with his presence, and later, holding my hand on the drive home. I don’t know why he won’t talk to me; I don’t know what made him change his mind about us. All I can think is that I’m too much trouble, shook up his tidy world, and he didn’t want to bother with me anymore.
It’s okay. I know I’m a handful. It’s better for him to do it now before I became too invested.
It hurts, but we weren’t together for that long, a couple of weeks at most, and it wasn’t enough to gamble my whole future. I hope Talia and Beau do better than Rick and me. It was so fast between them, and something that bursts so bright doesn’t have much of a chance of not flickering out.
Without Talia, without the clicking of her keyboard as she was always doing her homework, the house is quiet. The living room is full of boxes, and I brought a lot of her things when I visited. I was surprised to see she claimed Beau’s guestroom as her own, but I didn’t ask what their living situation entailed. If Beau is respecting her space, maybe they have more of a chance than I think.
The time goes by quickly, snow falling several inches a day fueling everyone’s Christmas spirit.
Sometimes, I stay overnight in Old Harbor, but since the day Rick told me he doesn’t love me, I haven’t spoken with him.
I officially move to Old Harbor the week before Christmas, hiring a moving company to help with the heavy furniture and all my boxes filled with books. The apartment the real estate agent helped me find is only four blocks away from the Harbor Herald offices which will allow me to walk to work most days. It’s bigger than the walkup I had in Cedar Hill, and I’m paying a little more per month for a month-to-month lease agreement. I still have hope one day Rick will change his mind about us, but he has enough money to buy me out of any lease agreement I sign. Sometimes, I forget he’s rich.
The movers set up Talia’s furniture in the second bedroom in case she wants to visit or needs time away from Beau. I miss her, and I keep her door closed.
Barney asked me what my plans were for Christmas, and I volunteered to hold down the fort at the office. It will be the first holiday in years Barney will spend with his family, and I was happy to give him that. After the first of the year, he wants to buckle down and see how we can get Stevie and her Sweet off the streets.
I don’t have any news on Declan Everett except they didn’t have enough to hold him, and he and Stevie are planning a summer wedding.
They let Fred McAllister go the night he drove Rick to Stevie’s warehouse on Highway 65, knowing he’d get fired and do time for falsifying the reports that claimed the failed lift was only an accident. With Tony Kelly innocent, Neil Simpson dead, and Fred McAllister behind bars, the new OSHA investigator came to the same conclusions we did. Though Simpson’s suicide note implicated Everett, nothing came of it, and the investigator tied up the new investigation with a not-so-neat bow at the end.
There hadn’t been paper trails, Beau explained. Simpson was paid in Sweet.
Another reason, perhaps, Everett was able to walk.
No one trusts a druggie.
I thought I’d be lonely spending Christmas without Talia, a dim light on my desk at the newspaper office my only company. I don’t need to be here, but I like roaming around the bullpen, answering calls from people reporting tips claiming they’ve seen aliens and Santa Claus. The bullpen’s not as large or as energetic as the one at the Times—several reporters and columnists short of the Times’ staff—but I like the people I’ve started working with. The Herald’s ratings and ad dollars skyrocketed when I gave Barney the exclusive to the story. The AP picked it up too, and out of it came several job offers. I turned down all of them, much to Barney’s surprise since he knows Rick and I didn’t work out after all. Even if Rick and I aren’t together, I don’t want to live anywhere but Old Harbor.
Barney took a chance hiring me, and I’ll respect it.
On Christmas Day, Talia calls me as I’m locking up the office at six. Because of the holiday, the streets are empty, and the stores are all closed. It’s already dark, and the sidewalks are lit up with Christmas lights and giant candy canes formed with wired garland attached to the streetlights. The temperature is mild, the stars glint in a cloudless sky, and somewhere, someone is playing Silent Night.
“Merry Christmas,” she says, her voice soft.