Fade to Us Read online

  “And then what?”

  “I’ll do what I have to. I don’t care what he thinks about me, but I won’t let him disrespect the game.” She set the glass on a side table and dropped her head to the back of the glider.

  We rocked in silence. The breeze whispered around us, teasing us with the scent of mown grass and gardenias. This felt nice. Familiar. A glimpse into the way life used to be.

  “How are things going between you and Natalie?” Mom asked.

  “Good.”

  “It’s likely that she’ll live with us until school starts.”

  Somehow, I wasn’t surprised. “When are you going to tell her?”

  “Soon. Jeff wants her to believe that we like having her around first.”

  “Do you?”

  “Like having her around? Yes, I do. I have to put up with so much testosterone-fueled drama on the ball field that it’s nice to come home to her. She lets you know exactly how she feels. No crap. No dissembling. Just truth.”

  “She’s a slob.” Probably even worse than Mom realized, because I cleaned up after Natalie in the mornings. I couldn’t take a shower in a nasty bathroom.

  “I don’t like that part either, and I intend to work on it.”

  “How?”

  “I’m toying with options, but it’s tricky. Jeff is resistant to pushing her.”

  I agreed with him. It would be best for everybody if we left her alone until she reached her happy place and stayed there for a while. “She’s not ready. She’d fail.”

  “Failure isn’t all bad.” Mom lifted her glass. “Even the best ballplayers fail seventy percent of the time at bat.”

  “No, please.” I groaned at her favorite way to tease me into a good mood. “No baseball metaphors.”

  She kissed my cheek. “Sorry. I was trying to cover all the bases.”

  “Mom.” I tried to control a smile.

  “Just hoping to strike out swinging.”

  “I’m officially leaving now.” It was good to hear her laughing as I ran inside.

  7

  A Strong Possibility

  Natalie ran out to the car on Wednesday afternoon, bouncing with excitement. “I got a part in Oklahoma!” she shouted as she buckled in.

  Mom and I exchanged relieved glances.

  “That’s great,” I said. “Which part?”

  “Friend-of-Laurey number three. I have a solo. Want to hear?”

  “Sure.”

  She sang ten words. Just ten. But the joy on her face was so complete that I had to smile. “You have a nice voice.”

  “I know. Jill, there’s a meeting tonight, and a family member needs to attend. Then you won’t be invited back because they don’t want adults hanging around to disrupt the synergy. Can you come?”

  “No, I’m sorry.” Mom’s voice was clouded with regret. “I have a baseball game tonight. I’ll have to leave as soon as I’ve changed into my uniform.”

  “Can Dad?”

  “He’s at a town council meeting to answer questions about his new project.”

  Natalie went into statue mode.

  “What about me?” I asked. “I’m a family member.”

  Her gaze flicked in my general direction. “Jill will have the car.”

  I looked at my mother. “Is the game close enough that I can drive you?”

  “It’s only forty minutes away. If you get me there, I can carpool with Steven coming home.”

  Natalie stared out the window. “That would work.”

  The plan went smoothly. After dropping Mom off at the ballfield, we drove the half hour to the arts center. Natalie must have been nervous, because she talked nonstop about her counselor, her small group, and Micah. I grunted encouragement and only half-listened, my focus on the truck ahead of me with its load of unsecured furniture sitting in the bed.

  “What if people don’t like my voice?”

  That question caught my attention. “They’ll like it.”

  “What if I don’t do a good enough job singing my one line?”

  I kept the smile on my face and hoped I could sidetrack her anxiety. “You’ll be fine. The director wouldn’t have given you the role if she wasn’t confident about you.”

  “What if I’m teased?”

  “Ignore it.”

  “I’ll try, but I don’t know if I can.”

  We rode in silence until we took the turnoff to the arts center.

  “I’ll ask Norah, too,” Natalie said, as if we hadn’t ended the conversation ten minutes ago. “She says we can always talk to her unless she’s teaching acting lessons.”

  I pulled into a parking spot. “Do all of the camp staff have duties like that?”

  “They each have a job on the production team. Only five are counselors leading small groups. Since that doesn’t involve much time, the counselors are busy doing other tasks when they’re not with the campers.”

  I wondered what Micah’s job was, but it was too late to ask. Natalie was already out of the car and running for the entrance. I walked more slowly, feeling hopeful. She was acting like her version of happy. She’d been assigned a solo that was big enough to count and small enough not to be too stressful. Maybe Mom and Jeff were overestimating the issue.

  When I entered the auditorium, I hesitated at the back and took in the scene. Most of the seats in the center section were filled. The lights had been dimmed except at the front, where a college-age girl stood.

  “That’s it for me,” she was saying, “so I’ll turn this over to our director, Lisa Lin.”

  An older Asian woman gave a slight wave from where she sat on the edge of the stage, legs dangling, wearing jeans, tunic, and several braided bracelets. “Hello, family members. Thank you for coming on such short notice. As Elena said, I’m Lisa Lin. During the school year, I’m an associate professor of musical theater at Elon University. This summer, I’ll be directing Oklahoma!” She gestured toward the side wall, where a mix of adults and college-age people were lined up. “Let me introduce our production team.”

  Micah stood at the end of the line, his feet apart, hands in pockets, staring at me. He held my gaze for a few seconds before looking at the director.

  One by one, we learned the names of the technical director, the music director, the camp counselors who were also handling sets, choreography, makeup, costumes, props …

  I searched the auditorium for Natalie and found her fidgeting in the shadows.

  “… And finally, let me introduce you to the stage manager and my son, Micah Dalton.”

  My gaze snapped back to Micah. The director’s son? Since I wasn’t sure what a stage manager did, I’d have to ask Natalie, but it sounded important.

  Ms. Lin nodded toward him. “When it comes to the show, I’m in charge of providing the artistic vision. Micah is in charge of everything else.”

  He waved.

  “If you have questions about your camper, Elena’s the camp manager. Call her. All other questions go to Micah. There is no reason to ask for me, because I’ll just send you to one of them. Alright, I’m done.”

  The girl, Elena, stepped forward again. “If the number of calls I’ve been receiving is any clue, you’re really interested in what’s happening at the camp. We’ll do our best to keep you informed, and I’m not trying to be rude here, but family members? We don’t need you around during the day. This is a teen production. Adult involvement needs to stay to a minimum, so please don’t show up. Not during rehearsals. Not during breaks. Any questions?”

  A bald man sitting in the front row raised his hand. “What about discipline problems?”

  “There won’t be any.” She smiled the kind of smile that would’ve intimidated me if I were a cast member.

  A flood of hands shot up.

  When I looked back at Micah, he was staring at me, unsmiling. Seconds passed and neither of us blinked. Okay, I could accept a challenge. Besides, I owed him an apology. I walked around the perimeter of the auditorium to join him. His eyes tracked
me the whole way.

  “Hi, I’m Brooke Byers.”

  “Micah Dalton.”

  Yesterday, he’d worn shades. Today, he wore glasses with edgy black frames that were adorable on him. He would’ve looked ordinary without them. “I apologize for the way I spoke to you.”

  He inclined his head.

  Hmm. Being difficult. Why? “Are you going to say anything?”

  His expression hovered near arrogant. “My reaction isn’t good enough for you?”

  “No, it isn’t.”

  “What did you expect?”

  “An ‘okay’ or ‘sure’ would’ve been nice.”

  “Okay. Sure.”

  I would not take offense. At least, not for now. That choice could always be changed later. “I’m protective of her.”

  “Is that what you call it?”

  Really? A guy who was practically a stranger to us thought he had the right to question how I took care of my stepsister? Clamping my lips together, I started to back away when his gaze slid to someone behind me.

  He smiled warmly. “Hey.”

  Natalie galloped past me as if I weren’t there. “When do we learn movement?”

  “Next week.”

  “I’m not much of a dancer.”

  “You don’t have to be. We’ll teach you…”

  I studied him as they talked. He was only a few inches taller than my stepsister, maybe five-ten. He had short, dark hair. Some acne on his forehead. A black watch on his right wrist and a dark gold silicone bracelet on his left. His body looked lean—but good—in his jeans and T-shirt. Although nobody would think of him as gorgeous, cute was a strong possibility.

  “… Don’t worry, Natalie. The choreography won’t be too hard…”

  She relaxed as he spoke, and I relaxed, too. While I didn’t like his attitude toward me, he was earning points with the way he treated Natalie.

  “Thank you, everyone,” Elena was saying loudly. “We’re done. If you have more questions, the team will stick around for a few minutes.”

  The room filled with noise. Immediately, the director was mobbed.

  “You’re about to get swarmed, Micah.” Natalie hurried away from him and out through the rear doors of the auditorium.

  I watched long enough to see him engulfed by campers and parents. He noticed my grin and gave an impatient shake of his head before turning to two girls vying for his attention. I ran after my stepsister, determined to get out of the parking lot before the rest of the crowd.

  * * *

  My bedroom door creaked open at midnight. There was a rustle as Natalie settled onto a chair. She didn’t say anything or switch on the lamp.

  This was the third time she’d come in for a late-night conversation since she moved here. It was becoming a pattern, and I didn’t mind as long as I was awake. In fact, I found myself looking forward to our chats.

  When the silence lengthened, I realized that was my signal to initiate things. “Do you want to talk about the musical?”

  “I want to know what the problem is with Dad. He stays upset.”

  Sure, that was a good topic, too.

  Was she concerned it was all about her? That accounted for some of it, but her father had been through a lot of change this year. We all had.

  After Jeff retired from the military two years ago, he’d been hired by a contracting firm that mapped the terrain of new housing developments. This spring, he’d gone into business for himself and signed his first major client in May. He would be working long hours to keep up. “Jeff just got a big contract, and he’s trying hard to do it right.”

  “Is there some reason why he wouldn’t do it right?”

  “It’s natural to worry even when you’re confident that everything is fine.”

  “Not me. I don’t bother to try things if I think I’ll fail.”

  “So you don’t worry about your part in the show?”

  “Okay, you got me there.” She stood and went to her favorite spot by the window, looking out at who-knows-what. “Does it bother you that you don’t have a father?”

  It was surprising how long she’d waited to ask me that. She’d known for months. “Most of the time, no. I don’t know what I’m missing.” The lights would remain off for this discussion, since I couldn’t trust my face to look calm. Plumping the pillows behind me, I wiggled into a comfortable position. “I’ve always been curious about dads, but it wasn’t until Jeff that I got to spend any real time near one.”

  “When did Jill tell you about the circumstances surrounding your conception?”

  “I always knew that she’d chosen to have me on her own, but it was close to middle school before I understood the biology of the process.” Mom had made a big deal about choosing to have me. She’d lived with a guy for eight years who was completely opposed to having kids. She kept hoping he would change his mind. When she finally believed him, she moved out and “practically drove straight to the fertility center.”

  “How did Jill pick the sperm donor?”

  I was glad Natalie was asking me instead of my mother. That could have gotten weird, because Mom-the-scientist would have supplied too many graphic details. It was just better for everyone if I controlled the volume of information. “At the sperm bank, she was allowed to search through a list of potential donors. Each candidate had background info and a photo. She picked someone who seemed smart, fit, and looked different from her.” It had succeeded, because I hadn’t inherited her blue eyes and blonde hair.

  “Do you know his name?”

  “No. We have a copy of his medical profile, and that’s about it.”

  “What do your grandparents think?”

  This time, it was Natalie who’d found my weak spot. “They believe my mom ‘cheated’ to get a kid.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I overheard them tell her.” It was one of those moments in life where I’d been taught a truth that would’ve been better left unlearned.

  “So they think you don’t count unless sex was involved?”

  I choked on a laugh. Tonight, Natalie’s honesty was refreshing. “Something like that. They moved to Idaho, to be near their other grandchildren. I see them occasionally, but I can never shake the feeling that I’m not a real grandkid since I wasn’t the result of an actual relationship.”

  “That sucks. I’ve heard enough about this topic. I’m going to bed.”

  “Can I ask a question first?”

  She shrugged.

  “What’s so interesting about Micah?”

  “A lot of things, really. The biggest is how much power he has for someone who’s still in high school. The stage manager runs everything in the show except the director. Realistically, Micah is more essential than Lisa is. I already knew who he was.”

  “You did?”

  “Yes. If you’re a high school kid in this state who’s serious about theater, you’ve heard of Micah Dalton.”

  “Because of his mom?”

  “It doesn’t hurt that he’s Lisa Lin’s son, but he’d be known without her. His high school’s theater department gets all kinds of awards, and he’s the reason.” Natalie turned her back on the window and stared vaguely in my direction. “I walked into the auditorium on the first morning of camp, knowing that Lisa would be there. But when they introduced Micah as the stage manager, you could hear the whispers. It was like winning the lottery twice.”

  I thought back to the team members lined up beside them. They’d all been college-age or older. Except Micah. “The others aren’t bothered that he’s so young?”

  “No. Being a teen is the best part. Since Lisa’s an adult, we have to revere her from a distance. But we can revere Micah up close. He’s one of us.” Natalie bobbed her head for emphasis. “Especially for me.”

  “Why?”

  “We both have Chinese mothers and white fathers, and neither one of us wanted to go to Chinese school. Those are major commonalities.” She looked at the ceiling, scrunching her forehead
in concentration. “He never acts like I’m wasting his time. Even though he’s super busy, he still answers all of my questions.” Her smile flashed for an instant, then disappeared.

  “He probably does that with everyone.”

  “Actually, no. Just with me.”

  Okay, I would leave that comment alone for now. “Would you call Micah a friend?”

  “No.” She crossed to the door and paused. “He’s epically awesome, and he doesn’t make mistakes. I like that in a person.”

  “I’m sure that Micah makes mistakes.”

  “If you knew him better, you’d know you were wrong.”

  8

  Loose and Untethered

  My hours at the jewelry store had fallen into a boring routine. By Thursday, I was spending most of my time on computer projects and a tiny amount standing around in the showroom, backing up Della if Mrs. Martin was busy.

  I had finished my morning to-do list and was cleaning the break room when my phone rang with the default ringtone. I pulled it from my pants pocket and glanced at the screen. Even though I didn’t recognize the number, I answered. “Hello?”

  “Is this Brooke?”

  “Yes.”

  “It’s Micah Dalton.”

  My heartbeat rocketed at the strain in his voice. “What’s wrong?”

  “We need your help with Natalie.”

  I could hear her in the background, mumbling “stop” over and over again in rapid bursts. Unmistakably a meltdown. No use asking what happened. He probably didn’t know. “Have you checked with my mom?”

  “I’ve called all of Natalie’s emergency contacts. Trust me, you were the last one I tried. Hey, wait a sec.” The sound muffled while he murmured to Natalie. “Okay, back again. I couldn’t reach your mom. Mr. Kane is on his way, but he said it would take him an hour.”

  Oh, damn, Jeff was leaving the construction site in the middle of the day. Would Natalie be completely out of control by the time he got there? Possibly.

  It was only eleven, too early for lunch, but that didn’t matter. Natalie couldn’t wait. “I’m leaving now. It’ll take me fifteen minutes to get there. Bye.”