Page 31 of Lies and Lullabies
“Hey now,” Jonas said as I struggled to my feet. “Kira, I’m sorry. I should have warned you about the song. Timing has never been good to us.” He stood up to face me, his eyes clouded with an emotion I couldn’t decipher. As if Jonas were the one with secrets.
Fighting the taste of bile low in my throat, I took a couple of steps away from him, towards the back of the lodge, away from the people and the music. A split second later, I could feel him following me.
Panicking now, I turned and said the only thing I could think of. “Wait!” I cried.
He froze, surprise on his face.
I still felt as if I couldn’t breathe. “I’m…” How to explain? “I feel panicky.” I turned my back to him and continued toward the trees. There was no path, but I crashed through the underbrush until I found my bike against the tree. I grasped it like a life boat, tossing a leg over and sliding onto the seat. My feet found the pedals, and I pushed off and sped away.
I didn’t stop until I’d made it to my father’s house. But, panting with anxiety, I couldn’t go inside. Fighting for calm, I sat down on the porch steps and put my head in my hands.
Seven
Jonas
I watched Kira ride off, wondering what the hell had just happened. Sure, she probably guessed that I wrote that song about her. But she’d only heard the first few bars before sprinting away like I was the devil himself.
Spinning around, I located the lodge’s bike shed. I rolled a bike out and hopped on. The seat was too low for me, so I had to stand up on the pedals.
But no matter. I rode off after Kira, my first time on a real bike in years.
The road curved around to the left, and Kira’s house soon came into view. She was sitting on the front steps. She didn’t look all that surprised to see me biking toward her, but the look of pain on her face was so vivid that I could feel it in my gut. Something was wrong, and I still didn’t know what.
“Feel any better?”
She shook her head, and I thought I saw fear in her eyes.
“Kira,” I said softly. “I know you want me to leave you alone right now, but I can’t—our conversation isn’t over. In twenty-four hours I’ll be back on that bus. Honestly, you’re scaring me. When I last saw you, things seemed like they were on the upswing for you. When I said I think about you all the time, I didn’t mean to be a creeper. I meant that I was picturing a happy ever after for you.”
“Mama!” a little voice called from beyond the screen door.
At the sound of it, Kira’s whole body went rigid. And then tears spilled down her cheeks.
I heard little footsteps pounding onto the screened porch. And then a small set of hands became visible against the door just behind Kira. Quick as a flash, Kira leapt to her feet and spun around, darting through the door. It closed with a bang behind her.
“Whoa,” a man’s voice said. “Deep breaths, Kiki. What did he say?”
The hair stood up on my neck. I dropped the bicycle and covered the distance to the stoop in three paces. Leaping up, I opened the screen door. A little girl stood there, with fair, curly hair and blue-green eyes. I was no good with kids’ ages. She wasn’t an infant, but she wasn’t school-aged either. There was a babyish fullness to her face. She was three? Four? Five? I looked up at Kira.
“I’m so sorry,” she squeaked.
That’s when I finally understood. And I almost couldn’t draw breath to speak again. “I… She… What thefuck, Kira?”
“That’s averybad word,” the little girl said, accusation in her voice.
“Sorry,” I said automatically. I raised my eyes to Kira’s. “You… She…”
I couldn’t think. There was pressure in my ears, and my pulse was ragged.Dizzy, I thought, absently, putting one hand on the door jamb for support.
“Breathe, man,” the guy behind Kira said. He wore a bright pink polo shirt and an expression of concern. “Sit down. Seriously, before you crash.”
I bent over and grabbed my knees. “Oh my God.” The only thing I could hear was my own ragged breathing and Kira’s choked sobs.
“Mama!” a little voice said, full of alarm. “Don’t cry!”
The scary moment stretched on, until I heard yet another bicycle approaching outside. A moment later, another male voice called out, “Knock-knock!”
The pink-polo-shirt guy answered him, his voice full of false cheer. “Hi, Luke!” Under his breath he added, “Wow. It’s raining men.” Then he scooped the little girl up in his arms, stepped around me, and walked out the screen door. It closed behind him with a bang.
