Porcelain Keys Page 11

  The sound of an engine roaring in the darkness burst our little electrified bubble, and I pulled away, uneasiness prickling under my skin. Headlights flashed behind the pines in our front yard, and I stepped away from Thomas.

  “I thought he was hunting,” Thomas said, unruffled.

  “Maybe he already killed something.” I tried to stay calm, but a nauseating dread rippled through me. “You’d better go.”

  Thomas didn’t move. Dad’s truck turned into the drive, and I caught the glint of animal eyes on the rear of his truck. Strapped atop camping gear and a blue tarp lay an enormous buck, neck bent over the side of the bed from the weight of its antlers. Dad’s truck skidded to a halt on the gravel driveway, and his door creaked open. A loud groan filled the night as his boot crashed onto the gravel. My eyes flickered between Thomas and Dad, my pulse frantically pounding in my ears. Dad was drunk. He’d probably stopped at the bar after killing the deer for a celebratory drink. Thomas couldn’t see Dad like this. It would ruin everything.

  “Thomas,” I said, trying to sound commanding, “you’d really better go. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

  He glanced at me, concern and uncertainty cinching his brow. “Are you sure?” He looked back at Dad, who was leaning on the door of his truck, staring at me.

  “Please go, Thomas,” I said firmly.

  “Karina?” Dad yelled out, stretching his arm toward me.

  My heart sunk to the pit of my stomach and a paralyzing panic swept over me. I was in Mom’s dress. He thought I was her.

  He teetered across the driveway, and Thomas looked at me for an explanation, one that I couldn’t possibly offer.

  “Karina!” Dad cried again, his voice desperate and broken.

  “Dad!” I called out, hearing the panic in my own voice, “It’s me, Aria!”

  Dad stopped and leaned on the handrail at the bottom of the steps. He squinted at me, his face gradually hardening as realization lit up his bloodshot eyes. He straightened and climbed the stairs with surprising steadiness, keeping a fiery glare on me the entire way. With exaggerated disgust, he stopped in front of me and eyed the dress from the straps on my shoulders to the lace shadowing my feet.

  “Get inside,” he breathed through clenched teeth, then turned to unlock the front door, completely disregarding Thomas.

  Thomas shot me an anxious look, and I tried to smile. I had only two options. I could refuse to go inside with Dad and risk having him combust in front of Thomas, or I could go inside with Dad and deal with him in secret. “I’ll call you tomorrow,” I said to Thomas with forced cheerfulness, then followed Dad inside. I turned to wave at him, but he didn’t wave back. He stood as still as stone, and as I closed the door, his expression was a mixture of apprehension and distress.

  The house was dark, lit only by moonlight filtering through the window sheers. I reached over to flip on the light, but my hand met Dad’s chest instead. A jolt of terror shot through me. I didn’t dare reach around him, so I turned into the darkness and headed for the light switch at the foot of the stairs. Better yet, maybe I’d just run upstairs and change out of Mom’s dress before turning on the lights.

  “Get over here,” Dad growled.

  “I’m just going to—”

  “Get over here!” he shouted.

  I skidded to a stop and slowly turned around to face him. Fear clamped on my heart like a bear trap as Dad’s dark silhouette moved toward me.

  He stopped and hovered over me, so close I could feel his rank breath on my shoulders. “Where did you get that dress?” he hissed.

  I couldn’t answer. My heart throbbed desperately in my ears, telling me to run. But I couldn’t. I was too afraid to move. And even if I could, Thomas was outside somewhere. If I ran, he would know. It would ruin everything.

  “Answer me.” Dad’s voice was eerily calm as he slowly enunciated each syllable. Maybe he was restraining himself because he knew Thomas might still be outside. “Where did you get that dress?” he repeated, his dark eyes demanding an answer.

  “From the attic,” I whispered.

  The muscles in his jaw bulged as he contracted them. “So you’ve been hiding it from me all these years? And you think that when I’m gone you can just take it out and wear it to impress some shady, good-for-nothing thug?”

  My throat ached with threatening tears, but I lifted my chin and fought them back, trying to be brave.

  “You think you can do things behind my back without me finding out. But I know everything you do.” His words raced out in a tight growl. His controlled countenance was steaming, gaining pressure and ready to burst at any moment. “I know you still go into the parlor. I know you’ve been going around with that boy, even though I told you not to. I knew you’d be with him tonight. I have lots of friends, Aria. And when they see you, they tell me about it.” The dark shape of his hands clenched and unclenched at his sides. Clench. Unclench. Clench.

  When he spoke again, his voice was shaky, like he was ready to crack. “One of my hunting buddies saw you in Colorado Springs at his neighbor’s house. So I asked who his neighbor is. Do you know who his neighbor is?”

  Nathaniel, I thought, panic choking my voice.

  “What were you doing at Nathaniel’s?” The words burst through his lips like a fiery explosion. The ghastly sound rang in my ears, stunning me. I wanted to sink to the floor and bury my head in the shelter of my arms. But terror kept me plastered against the wall.

  Not wanting to look into Dad’s crazed eyes, I redirected my gaze to the side table. The fox’s glass eyes stared at me, appearing alive and full of warning. Run, she seemed to say, before you share my fate!

  I gathered what remained of my courage and turned to flee. But the back of Dad’s hand was faster.

  eleven

  I held my stinging cheek as I flew through the back door and sprinted away, kicking off my heels as I went. Dad called after me, but I knew if I ran fast enough I could get out of his sight and he wouldn’t be able to find me. Tears clouded my vision as I ran, but I kept running, faster with each step, farther and farther away from home.

  I reached the wooden fence and clambered over. On the way down my skirt caught on something and I fell hard on my back. In the darkness, I couldn’t see what it was caught on. I felt out blindly and discovered a protruding nail, but my hands were shaking so badly I couldn’t seem to unhook it. I tugged, but I was caught like a trout on a hook.

  In the distance, Dad’s voice split through the night like a chain saw. His shouts grew closer, and I thought I saw a dark shadow moving through the pine trees. I yanked hard on the dress and it tore, but I was free. I scrambled to my feet and ran, too afraid to look back.

  The grass was moist and cold, making my bare feet ache. I ducked into the cover of the orchard but didn’t slow my pace. Midway through, I heard footfalls behind me, and my heart lurched with fear.

  “Aria!” a voice called out. The moment I heard it, I knew it wasn’t Dad. I stopped in my tracks and whipped around to see Thomas jogging toward me down a row of trees.

  Not wanting him to see my face, I turned away and continued my path through the orchard. A clammy coat of tears covered my cheeks, and I reached up to wipe them away. I was suddenly more afraid of facing Thomas than of being hurt by Dad.

  He caught up and hooked my arm in his hand. “What’s going on?” he asked between heavy breaths.

  My hair had come unpinned, and feeling my cheek begin to swell, I let my tangled locks fall over my shoulder to shield my face. “Nothing,” I said. “It’s no big deal. I just . . . just . . .” I couldn’t finish my sentence. What believable excuse could I offer? I freed myself from his grasp and kept walking.

  He followed me and grabbed my arm again, this time swiveling me to face him. I turned my head to the side.

  “Aria,” he said softly, “you’re shaking. Tell me what happened.”

  I shook my head. If I spoke, the sobs I was holding back would slip through my lips.

  �
��Did he hurt you?”

  I yanked free and walked away again.

  “Where are you going?” he called after me.

  “Please just leave me alone, Thomas,” I called over my shoulder.

  “It’s cold out here. Will you at least come in my house—then I’ll leave you alone?”

  I ignored him and continued toward the tree house, and he followed silently a few yards behind. I reached the tree house and started climbing, hoping he wouldn’t follow, but knowing he would. Once inside, I nestled into a corner and gathered my legs to my chest. I shivered, wondering how I was going to make it through the night without my sleeping bag.

  Thomas appeared in the doorway a few moments later and knelt in front of me. I buried my head in my shaking arms.

  “Please,” I pleaded, “just leave me alone.”

  We both sat there, silent and motionless, for what seemed like an eternity. I finally had to glance up to see if he was still there. He was—still kneeling, watching me. The moon’s silvery light slipped through the window behind him, outlining his hair and shoulders.

  He finally moved, laying his hand on my goose bump– covered arm. “Aria,” he said so quietly it was almost a whisper, “you don’t have to tell me what happened, but I can easily guess. I have to confess—the first day I found you up here, I saw those bruises on your arm. And once I got to know more about you, it didn’t take long to piece two and two together.”

  I grimaced at the memory of that humiliating morning and sank my head deeper into my arms.

  “I’m telling you this,” he continued, “because I don’t want you to feel like you need to explain—or hide anything from me. Nothing you can say will change the way I feel about you. I still want to be with you, no matter what. I just want to help you. I wish you’d let me.”

  While I debated whether or not to open up to him, he took off his jacket and wrapped it around me. It was warm and comforting. And even in a time like this, I couldn’t ignore how good it smelled.

  As he turned on a lantern and a soft glow filled the tree house, I repeated his words in my mind. Nothing you can say will change the way I feel about you. I clung to those words, then took a leap of faith. I lifted my stinging face to look at him. “Please don’t say anything to anyone,” I whispered.

  He swept a lock of hair away from my face and leaned in for closer examination. I winced as he grazed my cheek with his fingers, and he drew his hand back, inhaling sharply and exhaling through his nose. “I don’t understand how he could—” The muscles in his jaw went taut and his eyes darkened with fury. “Someone needs to teach that scumbag a lesson. I’m going to go over there and—”

  “No.” I clutched his arm. “It’ll just make things worse.” I reached over and turned off the lantern. If Dad was still out looking for me, the light would lead him here.

  “You need to tell someone,” Thomas said.

  I shook my head. “No.”

  “Why?” he asked angrily, folding his arms across his chest.

  “Do you know what would happen? They would put me in foster care. Foster care!”

  “That sounds better than the way you’re living now.”

  “I’m seventeen. I’m moving out the second I graduate. I can deal with him for seven more months.”

  “What about family? Friends? Isn’t there someone else you can move in with?”

  “No. Besides, I don’t want to. This is where I live. This is my life. I have a plan for my future, and stirring the pot now will only mess it up.”

  He brushed his thumb along my cheek. “What about next time? If he hits you hard enough, you may not have a future.”

  “There won’t be a next time.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I’ll just have to be more careful. I know what sets him off, and if I don’t mess up, he won’t get mad.”

  “What? Are you saying it’s your fault he hurt you?”

  “No. I know it’s not my fault. But it is, in a way, when I don’t obey his rules, when I do things I know will upset him.” I drew in a deep breath, trying to calm myself. “He found out about Nathaniel. I should have waited to take lessons until I moved out. And he didn’t want me hanging out with you; then he came home to see us standing on the porch. And to make things worse”—I gathered my lace skirt in my hands—“I’m wearing my mom’s dress. When my dad saw me tonight, he thought I was her.”

  “So that’s why he called you Karina?”

  I nodded. “I shouldn’t have worn it. It’s my fault he got so upset.” I tried to choke back the tears welling in my eyes, but they came too fast and trickled down my cheeks.

  “No,” he said, “it’s his fault he got so upset. You shouldn’t have to live your life fearing that you’ll get hurt just because you take piano lessons or dance with a boy or wear a dress. You can’t go back there, Aria. Promise me you won’t go back there.”

  “Where else am I going to go?”

  “I don’t know. I’ll figure something out.”

  “You don’t have to figure something out. You don’t have to save me. I’ll be fine.”

  He wiped my tears away with his thumb. “You’re shivering,” he said. “Let’s go to my house so you can get warm.”

  I shook my head. “Your parents—”

  “They’ll understand. They would probably even let you spend the night if we explained.”

  “They can’t know about this. No one can.”

  He huffed out a frustrated breath. I wrapped his jacket tighter around me and shivered.

  “Well, if you won’t come in, at least let me get you some blankets. Can I do that?”

  My feet were numb, and I knew it would be a miserable night if I didn’t have something warmer than his tuxedo jacket. “Okay,” I said, “but please don’t say anything to your parents.”

  He nodded reluctantly, then stood and stepped out of the doorway. “Don’t go anywhere. I’ll be right back.”

  As if I had anywhere else to go.

  Twenty minutes later, he came back with a backpack, and he’d changed into jeans and a sweatshirt. He unzipped the backpack and produced a pair of blue plaid flannel pajamas and some thick wool socks. He placed them in front of me.

  “Put these on. I’ll be back with a sleeping bag and pillow.”

  I waited until he had climbed back down, then I slipped out of Mom’s dress and put on the much-too-large pajamas. I pulled the socks on my freezing feet, then peeked in the backpack to see bottled water and some granola bars. Despite the situation, I couldn’t help but smile.

  Thomas tossed in a sleeping bag and pillow, then disappeared for a couple minutes before returning with another sleeping bag and pillow.

  “What are you doing?” I asked as he spread out two sleeping bags on the floor.

  “I’m not letting you sleep up here alone.”

  “I’ve slept up here alone countless times before.”

  “But I didn’t know it at the time. Now I know. So you’re not sleeping up here alone.”

  “What about your parents? Do they know where you are?”

  “It’s taken care of.”

  “Did you tell them?”

  “No.”

  “Then what did you say?”

  “Doesn’t matter. All that matters is that you’re safe and warm. And not alone.”

  “What about your mom? Won’t she be worried about—”

  “Aria.” He put his hand on my shoulder. “You need to stop worrying. She’ll be fine. She knows I won’t be coming home until morning. Okay?”

  I stared at him, speechless. I’d never known someone so selfless, who seemed to care about me more than he cared about himself. I knew there was no point in trying to convince him to let me sleep here alone, so I slid into my sleeping bag and let my head sink into the soft pillow. I winced from the sting lingering on my cheek, and I applied my cold hand to soothe it.

  He sat beside me, gently sweeping the hair from my cheek and neck. “I wish I could make it better,
” he murmured.

  I drew in a deep breath, calmed by the comforting tone of his voice. “Remember that song you sang to me at the piano a few weeks ago?” I asked.

  He was quiet for a moment, then said, “Yes, I remember.”

  “Will you sing it to me again?”

  He slid into his sleeping bag and lay next to me, lacing his fingers through mine. Stroking my hand, he began quietly singing, his soothing tones joining the rhythmic sounds of the night. His song tugged at my heart and beckoned to me, and I drew nearer to him. He smiled and opened his arm, inviting me in. I lay my head on his chest, listening to the beating of his heart and the sound of his voice, and let all my troubles drift away on the wings of his song.

  ~

  The first thing I saw when I opened my eyes in the morning was Thomas sitting against the tree house wall, arms resting on his knees, the glow of early morning softening the edges of his figure. His eyes were troubled, and fastened on me. I met his look with a smile, my insides tingling at the memory of being in his arms the night before.

  “Good morning,” he said softly. A little smile passed across his lips before his expression became serious again. “I was thinking—I should come home with you this morning.”

  It was a terrible idea. I didn’t know how Dad would react, and I didn’t want to find out. I sat up and twisted my messy hair until it looked like a frayed rope. “You don’t need to. I’m working today, so I’ll go home just long enough to change. I’ll be fine.”

  “Like you were fine last night?”

  My hand instinctively came to the tender bulge on my cheek, and I winced in pain. “He’s probably sleeping right now,” I said. “I’m sure he was up all night.”

  “And if he’s not?”

  “Then he’ll be too hungover to get out of bed.” I slid out of the sleeping bag. Mom’s dress lay nearby on the floor, and I folded it and placed it in a cabinet where it would be safe for now. When I glanced back at Thomas, his expression was full of doubt. “He’s not going to hurt me again,”I assured, “at least not today. He’s going to feel bad about what happened. He’ll say sorry and try to do something nice to make up for it.”