Page 13 of I'll Keep Her Safe

6

Poppy

An hour below the streets of New York is too long. Especially when you throw in a delay on the A train, broken air conditioning, and the ache in my soles after being on my feet all day. I have never been so relieved to step off the subway in my life.

When my boss called early this morning to ask me to cover a last-minute shift for a coworker who called in sick, as much as I wanted to say no, I took it. I should be grateful. I need the money desperately, but two hours a day on the subway is unbearable, especially when there are loads of places nearby I could work. I spent yesterday afternoon handing out résumés, so fingers crossed something comes up. Even with the business Bailey and I are about to launch, I need a steady income stream. Who knows when the new venture will start to pay off?

Turning onto Fruit Street, the tension eases from my shoulders. This neighborhood is so beautiful on a summer evening, the low sun bathing the townhouses in an orange glow, the sound of laughter drifting from where people sit outside Joe’s Coffee. The air is still hot, and my blue polyester uniform clings to my skin, making me itch. I should probably stay out for a while, give Mr. Mathers his space, but I’m dying to have a shower and change into something more comfortable. Besides, I can’t avoid him forever, even though I’m still fairly certain that’s what he’d prefer. Last night he barely spoke to me, and when Bailey excused herself for the bathroom, he fled upstairs and didn’t return for the rest of the evening. It’s like he didn’t even care that Bailey was leaving the next day. Given everything I know about the man, that tracks.

I pass a metal fence containing rows of plants in neat wooden boxes. A sign on the gate reads Fruit Street Community Garden, and I pause to gaze at the plots of flowers, vegetables, and other shrubs. A familiar voice carries on the breeze, and my gaze follows the sound to see Mr. Mathers, sitting on a wooden bench beside an elderly man, their backs to the street. He slides his phone into his pocket and turns to the old man with a smile.

“Even from the West Coast she’s giving me trouble,” Mr. Mathers says, his voice warm with laughter.

He must be talking about Bailey. That means she’s landed safely. I meant to check in with her, but stupidly left my phone at home today. Another reason two hours on the subway was pure hell.

“You’re going to miss her,” the old man responds, and Mr. Mathers nods.

“I am. She’s a great kid.”

I smile to myself, turning to leave, when the old man responds in a voice laced with so much sadness, my feet refuse to walk away. “Joyce always wanted children. We bought a huge house to fill with them.” When I glance back, he’s slumped on the bench, as if his thin, frail frame is trying to fold in on itself. “It wasn’t meant to be.”

A lump forms in my throat at his words. What does that mean? I don’t even know the man, and yet I want to race into the garden and give him a hug.

I’m completely taken aback when Mr. Mathers reaches for his wrinkled, papery hand, placing his large, tattooed one over the top.

“I’m sorry, Marty.” His voice is so soft, I hold my breath in surprise. “Life can be so cruel sometimes, can’t it?” He says this with such conviction that I have to stop myself from calling out to ask him what he means.

“It sure can, my boy.”

My boy. It’s such an affectionate nickname for Mr. Mathers, and doesn’t sit at all with the image I have of him. I stare at the two men as they sit, until realizing I’m intruding on a personal, private moment. I swallow and turn away, trying to process what I saw, how kind Mr. Mathers was with that sweet old man.Marty. I’d always assumed Mr. Mathers didn’t have that soft side to him. Anyone looking at his rugged exterior would come to the same conclusion. Then there’s the fact that he was absent from Bailey’s life for all those years…

I push the thought away and continue along the street. Mr. Mathers is out for now, so it’s safe to head home, but he won’t be out forever. Besides, it’s not sustainable to simply try to avoid him all the time. He might have been a little standoffish when I arrived yesterday, but Bailey was moving away. That probably distracted him—he just said how much he’s going to miss her. And there was something about what he said about life being cruel, the way his voice softened, that makes me pause. Despite knowing I should probably leave him alone, an idea blossoms in my head, and I make a left off Fruit Street and head to the grocery store.

I havefive missed calls and three texts from Bailey when I finally get home to my phone. I chuckle to myself as I plod down the stairs from my room, after showering and changing into a loose, summery dress, and press the button to call her back.

“Thank God,” she answers breathlessly. “You’re okay.”

I can’t help but laugh again. “Of course I’m okay. I left my phone at home, is all.”

“Well, don’t do it again.” She’s trying to be stern, and it makes me smile. “I was worried Kurt had tracked you down, and…”

“And what?” I ask lightly when she trails off.

“I don’t know. But… I worry, Poppy, especially since we’re not there now.”

I release a long breath, unpacking the groceries onto the counter. Mr. Mathers still isn’t home, which is perfect. It gives me time to cook up something delicious.

“You know I haven’t heard from Kurt for months,” I assure Bailey, and she snorts.

“That makes me even more nervous. Like he’s planning something.”

I roll my eyes, glad she can’t see me, as I survey the spread on the counter. I’m going to make homemade burgers with fries. The grocery store had some lovely grass-fed beef that will make for big, juicy patties, and I figured you can’t go wrong with that. What red-blooded male doesn’t like a burger?

“Poppy,” Bailey says, her voice gentle. “I’m worried you’ve forgotten how bad it was.”

I turn away from the food and lean against the counter, pressing my eyes shut. I haven’t forgotten, exactly. I just don’t let myself think about it.

“The manipulation, the games, the way he wouldn’t talk to you for days then would show up at work…” Bailey pauses, as if to let that sink in, then adds, “The way he made you question your own sanity, for Christ’s sake.”

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