Hold Me Close Read online

  Effie and Heath look at each other. Never locked? All this time, never locked? She runs through the living room, over the scattered bits of glass and broken pottery set into the concrete. One stabs through the tape, but she keeps going. She bends, using her hands to pull herself up the staircase faster than she could by standing. Up, up, and at the top, the door. She slams into it, already imagining the kitchen beyond it, the phone, how she will call the police or, better yet, run screaming out into the yard to beg the neighbors for help.

  She hits the door at the top of the stairs with a thud and reels back. For an interminable moment, she hangs there, hands pinwheeling, her slippery, taped foot on the edge of the stair. At the last second, the very last, she grabs the railing to keep herself from plummeting all the way down. She hits the door again. It doesn’t budge.

  At the bottom of the stairs, Daddy appears. “That door, now, that one is always locked. Ten bolts, and you need a key for each of them.”

  Effie looks at the row of holes lined up along the door. She’s never seen a door with so many keyholes but only one doorknob. She hits it again. Again. Her hands hurt. She’s cut herself.

  Daddy comes up the stairs and grabs her by the back of the neck. He yanks her to the bottom of the steps. She skins her knees on the concrete floor as he drags her back into the bedroom, where the fires are still burning. Heath is in a small pile on the ground, not moving.

  “Put them out,” Daddy says. “Unless you want to burn to death down here, or suffocate from the smoke. Put them out.”

  It’s too late, Effie thinks. The fire’s out of control. All she has are her bare hands and her duct-taped feet to stamp out the flames that moments before seemed so enormous but are now puttering into ash, but she does it while Daddy watches.

  “I’m going to kill that woman the next time she comes over,” he says quietly. Calmly. “I hope you know I’m going to kill her, and it will be all your fault.”

  “No. Please... We didn’t mean... It was a joke...”

  “I’m going to kill her right in front of you, and you’ll understand then, the consequences of your actions.” Daddy nudges Heath with his toe. “He’ll be out for a while. Clean up this mess.”

  chapter thirty-four

  Effie had offered Polly a birthday party at one of the local kids’ hot spots, the one with the laser tag and trampolines and video games, but Polly had declined in favor of some friends sleeping over. And she’d requested her favorite dinner, cooked by Heath. Had it felt a little like manipulation on her dearest daughter’s part? Of course, but knowing that didn’t make it any easier for Effie to say no.

  It had been over a month since she’d seen him last. He answered her texts now, at least there was that. They were being cautious with each other, stepping as carefully as winter-softened feet on summer’s first rocky beach.

  What had started as two friends had turned into six for dinner, though two of the girls weren’t able to spend the night and would be leaving after the movie and popcorn. Effie didn’t mind. Watching Polly with her friends reminded her of how it had felt to be turning twelve. Giggling with friends, pigging out on junk food, everything stretching out bright and shiny. Adulthood impossibly far away.

  Twelve had been safe.

  Effie had added the leaves to the dining room table and brought out the good china her mother had given her when she bought herself something new. She’d even set the table with a pair of fancy candlesticks and long tapered candles. There was sparkling grape juice in plastic champagne glasses and a vase of flowers that Heath had brought, and a white linen tablecloth with matching lacy napkins.

  Watching the girls tip their glasses to each other to pretend they were at a fancy restaurant, Effie’s chest grew tight. Behind her, Heath’s warmth tempted her to press herself against him, but she didn’t. She did look over her shoulder, though, to find him smiling.

  “You did a great job,” he said.

  “So did you.”

  Then for a moment their fingers linked and squeezed. She could’ve kissed him then, if things were different, but they weren’t, and so Effie let go of his hand so she could move into the kitchen to help serve the food. Her mother was there, dishing up pasta and vegetables.

  “How’s it going out there? Look at this. What a lovely presentation.” Her mother gestured at the platters Heath had brought. She didn’t look at Effie when she added, “He’s very talented.”

  Effie paused, sure she hadn’t heard that correctly. “Who? What?”

  “Heath.” Her mother straightened. “He’s talented.”

  “Yes,” Effie said. “He is.”

  “And Polly clearly adores him.”

  Effie eyed her mom. “Uh-huh.”

  “Well. I’m just saying.”

  Effie didn’t reply. She helped her mother finish dishing up the portions and took them into the dining room to serve with a flourish and a fake French accent that had Polly rolling her eyes but all the other girls guffawing. Effie gave a grandiose bow.

  “Would Madame require any-zing else? More cham-pan-yuh, perhaps?”

  Polly gave in to laughter. “Mom!”

  “Fine, fine. We’ll get out of here and let you girls have your privacy. C’mon, you,” she said to Heath. “Let’s go have an adult beverage.”

  In the den, she poured them both glasses of gin and added sweet lime and club soda. Heath sipped his with a grimace and shook his head. Effie laughed.

  “I’m trying to expand your palate,” she said. “Man cannot live on beer and Mad Dog forever.”

  Heath took another slow sip but didn’t laugh. “So, cake and ice cream after dinner? Then I’ll head out.”

  “Oh.” Effie looked toward the dining room to the rising sound of girlish hilarity. Then to the kitchen, where her mother was still presumably puttering. “I thought maybe you’d stay.”

  “Nah. I have some plans.”

  “Ah.” Effie drank. If he was waiting for her to ask him what plans, he’d be waiting a long damned time.

  Heath didn’t offer any more information. He gave her a steady, solemn look, though. That was answer enough.

  She didn’t care, Effie told herself as she polished off the drink but did not make another. She couldn’t get shit-hammered with a house full of other people’s kids. She didn’t care what Heath was doing when he wasn’t with her.

  When the doorbell rang, they both turned in the direction of the sound. Oh no, he did not invite her here. With a scowl, Effie set her glass on the end table and went through the living room to answer the front door.

  “Mitchell!”

  “Hi.” He grinned, holding up a pizza box and a paper sack that clinked inside, like glass. “I brought... Oh. I didn’t realize you had company.”

  From behind her, Heath said, “I guess I’ll just get going now, then.”

  “No. Wait.” Effie turned, her cheeks flaming. “Um, Mitchell, come in.”

  He stepped through the doorway. Rapidly melting snow coated the shoulders of his navy blue peacoat and clung to the dark strands of his hair, falling over the top rims of his glasses. He shook it, set down the bag on the stairs to hold out his hand.

  “Hi. I’m Mitchell.”

  “Heath.”

  The men shook firmly, one-two pumps of their hands before Mitchell stepped back to look at Effie. “I should’ve called first. Sorry.”

  “It’s okay. We’re having a birthday party for my daughter. Heath made pasta. My mother’s here. It’s a family thing.”

  “Oh,” Mitchell said and seemed relieved. He gave Heath a chin tip. “Nice to meet you.”

  Heath stepped backward, out of the foyer. “I’ll say goodbye to the Pollywog and head out. Nice to meet you, too.”

  Shit.

  Effie held out her hands for the pizza b