Just Another Hero Read online

  “Must be nice to have a rich daddy!” somebody yelled as Arielle walked over to the car. She just shook her head and waved. If only they knew.

  She tossed her book bag into the back, slid into the front seat, buckled the seat belt, and inhaled deeply. The car enveloped her with a lemony scent.

  “Hi, sweetie,” her mother said. “How was school?”

  “I survived another day,” said Arielle with a shrug.

  “Talk to any cute boys?”

  “Oh, Mom. Give me a break!” Arielle cried. Quickly changing the subject, she said, “The car looks nice.”

  Her mother beamed. “Chad likes it when I get it cleaned and detailed before I get home.”

  “Yeah, right. Good old Chad.” She stared stonily out the window.

  “Why are you so down on him, Arielle? He is so good to us.”

  “Good to you, maybe.” She slumped down in the heated leather seat.

  “Remember where we came from, Arielle,” her mother reminded her gently.

  “I know. I know.” Arielle crossed her arms over her chest.

  “Everything I do is for you and your future, you know. Your college education is secure, and you can go anywhere you choose!”

  “Can I go tomorrow?”

  Her mother reached over and touched her daughter’s hand but had nothing to say. She continued to drive down the winter-dirty street.

  “Your nails look nice,” Arielle commented, noticing her mother’s French manicure.

  “Toes, too!” her mother replied. “Next time we’ll have to go together.”

  “Okay. Anything to get out of the house while Chad is around.”

  “Come on, honey,” her mother pleaded. “Remember Ivan?”

  How could she forget Ivan? A brooding hulk of a man with thick black hair, he was a chef in a local restaurant and volunteered at the shelter one day a week. Her mother had charmed him and married him before he knew what had hit him. She’d gone back to school and gotten certified as a flight attendant, and things looked hopeful.

  But he had a vicious temper, and Arielle grew to fear the knives he used so skillfully in the kitchen as he prepared their meals. He’d lasted three years, until Arielle was eight.

  “I was so glad when he left,” Arielle told her mother. “But Dirk was even meaner.”

  Dirk was a dentist and the father of her little sister, Kiki. He kept his head shaved bald, and with his dark, beady eyes, he looked a little like a bowling ball. He made more money than Ivan and could afford a nicer house for them, and Arielle got to wear nice clothes to school. He liked showing off his new wife and pretty little girls. But he, too, had a mean streak. Dirk finally had found someone younger and prettier, and he left, also after three years. Kiki was two, and Arielle was twelve.

  “I figure anyone who likes to work in people’s mouths with drills and needles has got to be a little sick,” Arielle said. “You got issues with men, Mom!”

  “Well, I admit I’ve made a few bad choices,” her mother acknowledged.

  “I guess you did what you thought was best,” said Arielle with a shrug.

  They drove without speaking for a couple of miles.

  “You want to stop for burgers or something before I drop you off at home?” her mother finally asked. “I’ve got a YWCA board meeting tonight.”

  “Yeah, anything so I don’t have to sit at the table by myself with Chad. And Mom? Can we go see Kiki this weekend?” Arielle hadn’t seen her little sister since Christmas, when they all drove to the Cherry Blossom Care Center in New Jersey. It was supposed to be the best in the country for kids with severe ADHD. Arielle suspected that Chad thought it was the best place in the country to keep an eight-year-old who was prone to spilling things on his white carpet.

  “It has been a while. I miss her too, sweetheart. But we have to trust she’s getting the best care possible. Chad did so much research, and this is the best thing for Kiki—she’ll get the emotional behavior adjustment she needs while she’s still young,” her mother told her.

  “Kiki needs hugs, not doctors,” said Arielle dismissively. “Chad didn’t like her from the moment he met her.”

  “Well, she was a mess to clean up after!” her mother pointed out. “But maybe we can go visit her over spring break.”

  They pulled into a Wendy’s drive-through. Arielle decided on broccoli soup and a lemonade, while her mother just ordered a salad and a bottle of water. That’s all she ever ate now that she was married to Chad. I guess he likes his wives thin, Arielle thought with a snort.

  They sat in the parking lot and ate. “Did you save the receipt?” Arielle suddenly asked.

  Her mother nodded and pointed to a stack of receipts on the windshield visor. Reacting to the fear on Arielle’s face, she said, “You know, I was lucky to meet someone like him.”

  “Yeah, bankers are such fun guys!” Arielle shot back sarcastically.

  “He got you that iPhone you’d been wanting, didn’t he?”

  The memory of the stolen phone made Arielle’s stomach churn. She still hadn’t told Chad or her mom about the theft. “But Mom,” she complained, “he’s so tight with his money!”

  “That’s why he has a lot of it, sweetie!”

  Arielle tried to explain. “He, well, sometimes he scares me, Mom.”

  Her mother’s fork froze in midair. She turned to Arielle. “Has he ever touched—harmed you in any way?”

  “Yeew, no way!”

  Her mother cleared her throat. “You’d tell me if Chad was, you know, acting inappropriately, wouldn’t you?” she asked carefully.

  “I wouldn’t let that man touch my unpainted toenails!” Arielle spat out. “If he tried anything on me, I’d have the army, the navy, and the head of every single news station sitting on the front lawn in less than thirty seconds!” She shuddered.

  Her mother laughed uneasily but seemed to relax. “So why does he frighten you, Arielle?”

  Arielle stirred the clumpy soup and thought for a moment before answering. “I think he’s a wack job, Mom. He’s not…normal. When I’m around him I feel like all the good air has been sucked out and I can’t breathe right. You feel me?”

  “Yeah, I think so,” her mother answered slowly. “But maybe this is just teen tension you’re feeling, and it will get better with time.”

  “Doubt it.”

  “You’re such a tough cookie, Arielle. I know it hasn’t been easy for you.”

  Arielle shifted in her seat. “Sometimes I feel like all I am is the kid of the first husband. I don’t even know what that means.”

  “You’re my bright morning star. That’s why I named you Arielle, you know.”

  “I wish it was just us, Mom. And Kiki.”

  “I love you, sweetie,” her mother replied. “Never forget that. It will get better—I promise.”

  Arielle looked unconvinced. “I wish my father was still alive,” she said, sipping her lemonade.

  Her mother nodded fiercely. “You know, sometimes I wonder what we’d be doing now if Greg were still here.”

  “Well, for sure there’d be no Chad in our lives,” Arielle muttered.

  Arielle’s mother reached over and gently touched her daughter’s hair. “I loved your daddy so much. I didn’t care that we lived in a trailer. I didn’t care that we barely had a nickel between us. We had each other. And we had you. And that was enough.”

  Arielle had heard the story many times, but since she couldn’t remember her father at all, she loved it on the rare times when her mother talked about him. But, she thought sadly, this tale would never have a happy ending. A drunk driver took her dad in an instant. What followed was bad luck, lost jobs, lousy apartments, and eventually the homeless shelter.

  Arielle sighed. Ivan, Dirk, Chad. What a mess. The only good part had been Kiki, she thought.

  Her mother’s voice broke through her thoughts. Arielle shifted her focus back to her mom, who was saying, “That’s why now you need to learn to appreciate Chad. I
still cry to think of you in that shelter—washing you in the bathroom sink, stomping the roaches that crawled the walls. That was no life for you. Can’t you see how much better things are now?”

  “I guess.” Arielle scratched her arm.

  “It’s not so bad, is it, Arielle?”

  “No, Mom. It’s okay. Really.”

  And that was when the dirty brown Ford Escort backed into their car.

  ARIELLE

  CHAPTER 11

  THURSDAY, FEBRUARY 10

  THE SOUND OF CRUMPLING METAL AND crunching glass exploded in Arielle’s ears as she pitched forward into the dashboard. Soup and salad flew everywhere.

  “What happened?” she cried out.

  “Somebody just hit us! Are you all right, Arielle?” her mother shrieked.

  Arielle sat up straight, wiped soup from her forehead, and blinked rapidly, trying to calm down. After a moment she said shakily, “Yeah, I’m okay—I think.”

  Bits of salad hung from her mother’s hair. She started to cry. “Oh my God! Oh my God!”

  “Mom! Are you hurt? What’s wrong?” Arielle was really frightened now.

  “I’m fine. I’m fine. Nothing bleeding. Just…just…that really scared me.”

  Just then an elderly woman, who looked even more upset than Arielle felt, knocked on the window. “I’m so sorry!” the woman shouted. “I’m so, so sorry!”

  Arielle’s mom, still looking dazed, opened her car door. “What happened?” she asked.

  “I meant to hit the brakes, and I hit the gas. Oh my Lord! Is anybody hurt?”

  “No, we’re okay.” Arielle’s mom got out of the car slowly. “All in one piece—just a little shaken. But I think you’ve messed up my new car, ma’am.”

  “My daughter told me I was getting too old to drive, sugar, but I wouldn’t listen. Oh, Lord, look at this mess!”

  Arielle heard her mother squeal—a combination of a scream, a screech, and a cry of desperation. “Oh, no, no, no, no, no!”

  Arielle scrambled out of the car and gasped. The trunk was scrunched up like a used Kleenex.

  “Chad is going to kill me!” her mother whispered, her face a grimace.

  “It wasn’t your fault, Mom,” Arielle said, rubbing her mother’s arm. “There are a bunch of witnesses here in the parking lot who will back you up.”

  “It’s not a matter of whose fault it is,” her mother tried to explain. “The car’s a disaster. He’s going to have a coronary!”

  “I got insurance, honey,” the old woman said, offering a card from her purse. “I’m old, but I ain’t stupid!”

  Arielle took the card as her mother couldn’t seem to stop staring, with her mouth agape, at the crumpled back end of the Mercedes.

  “Did you get hurt, ma’am?” Arielle asked the lady. She looked to be about eighty years old, with papery-looking skin and glossy gray hair. Her back was slightly hunched, but her eyes were bright.

  “No, honey. I’m fine. But thanks for askin’. I’m Phyllis Simsbury. What’s your name?”

  “Arielle. Arielle Gresham.”

  “That’s a pretty name, hon. Is your mama all right?”

  “She’s not hurt, ma’am. It’s just that she just got the car for Christmas and it’s kind of a shock to see it messed up. My stepfather is gonna be pissed.”

  “I’m so sorry, sugar. I’d give anything to change the situation.” The old woman’s eyes got teary. “It was such a pretty car, and now…Well, my daughter is gonna give me the blues because of this.” She pulled a scarf over her head. “It’s a little chilly today.”

  Arielle felt sorry for the woman. Her mother just kept running her fingers over the ridges of buckled metal.

  “Let me write down your insurance information, Mrs. Simsbury, and I’ll give you ours, okay?”

  They walked over to her Ford, which had only a small dent in its bumper. “I got this car back in the eighties. They don’t make ’em tough like they used to,” the old woman said, nodding her head toward the crumpled Mercedes.

  “Do we need to call the police?” asked Arielle.

  “No, honey. The parking lot here is private property. Just make a police report later.”

  “Okay. It sounds like you’ve done this before,” Arielle said with a gentle smile.

  The old woman sighed. “Yeah. A few months ago. Maybe my daughter is right; I should think about givin’ up my license.”

  “I’d hate to see you get hurt, Mrs. Simsbury,” Arielle told the woman sympathetically. “Maybe when you get home you can toss your daughter the keys.”

  “Maybe I will. I’ll really miss driving, though. I been doing my own thing for almost sixty years.” She touched the car lovingly.

  “I understand, ma’am.”

  Mrs. Simsbury glanced over at Arielle’s mother. “I didn’t mess up your car too bad, did I? It’s drivable, right?” she asked.

  “I’m pretty sure it is,” Arielle said as she copied the numbers from the two insurance cards. “But we’ll have to take it to the shop right away. My stepfather is pretty picky about his cars.”

  “I thought you said it was your mama’s car, honey.”

  “Well, it is, basically. I mean, she drives it every day….” Arielle stopped. “It’s complicated,” she said finally.

  “Your stepdaddy sounds like my first husband,” Mrs. Simsbury replied with a laugh. “Had to send that one to the ‘Been there, done that’ pile!” She cackled at her own joke.

  Arielle laughed and told her, “Don’t I wish!” She helped the old woman back into her car. “You drive carefully now, Mrs. Simsbury. I’ll make sure my mother files a police report and contacts the insurance companies.”

  “They’ll probably cancel me for sure this time around,” Mrs. Simsbury admitted. “It’s a bear getting’ old, honey. Have fun while you’re young and pretty!”

  “I will. I promise.” Arielle made sure the old woman had her seat belt on, and then watched her turn out of the driveway of the Wendy’s parking lot, jumping the curb and making a deep wedge in the mud next to the street. She waved at Arielle and disappeared into the traffic.

  “I hope she makes it home safely,” Arielle said, walking back to her mother.

  “She seems so sweet,” replied her mother. “But what are we going to do about the car?”

  Arielle took a deep breath. “I guess we have to go home and face Chad.”

  “Oh, I just can’t face him yet. He’s going to go ballistic.” Her mother held her hand to her brow. Her hand trembled.

  “Mom, he’s gonna find out eventually.”

  Her mother ignored her. “I know what I’m going to do! I’m going to drop you off, then go and do the police report, call the insurance, and take it to a repair shop. Immediately. So at least I can tell Chad it’s being taken care of.”

  “Do you think that will help?” asked Arielle.

  “A little.” She sighed deeply. “Probably not enough.”

  “What do you think he’ll do?” Arielle wondered.

  “Remember the stain on the carpet?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Much worse. Much worse.”

  They got back into the car then, which fortunately started with no trouble. But as they drove silently out of the parking lot, Arielle could hear an ominous rubbing sound coming from the back of the car that had not been there before.

  When they got close to home, her mother did not pull into the driveway but stopped a few houses before theirs. “I don’t want him to look out the window and see this yet,” she said. “Tell Chad I’ve got that YWCA board meeting. I’ll be home as soon as I can, okay?” She looked really nervous.

  “Are you okay, Mom? You look like you’re about to throw up.”

  Her mother gave her a quick, fake smile. “I’m fine, sweetie. I can handle this.”

  Arielle shook her head, got out of the car, and watched her mother speed off.

  I’m gonna need a shrink until I’m old like Mrs. Simsbury, Arielle thought, to unsor
t the mess that’s my life. It’s no wonder I’m so screwed up.

  ARIELLE

  CHAPTER 12

  THURSDAY, FEBRUARY 10

  ARIELLE DRAGGED HER FEET UP THE FRONT steps of Chad’s two-story brick house. His shiny black Porsche sat parked in the driveway. Nice car. Nice house. Nice neighborhood. So what.

  Chad was sitting in the living room when she opened the door.

  She hesitated, then called out as brightly as she could, “Hi, Chad.” She hoped he’d let her go right to her room.

  “Hello, Arielle,” he said in that voice that made investors trust him with millions of their dollars. “How was school?”

  “Okay. Same as usual.” She forced herself to smile, as if everything really was okay. But she suddenly felt like she had to pee really bad.

  “That’s a lovely outfit you’re wearing,” he said. “You look good in yellow.”

  “Uh, thanks,” she said, shifting from one foot to the other.

  “What’s that you’ve spilled on it?” he asked, looking more carefully.

  “Broccoli soup. Me and Mom stopped at Wendy’s on the way home.”

  “And you decided to wear your soup instead of eat it, I see.”

  “Yeah, whatever you say.” Arielle just wanted to placate him.

  “Where’s your mother? I didn’t hear the car in the drive.” Arielle noticed he said “the car,” not “her car.”

  “She had a meeting at the Y. She said she’d be home in a couple of hours.” Arielle hoped his interrogation was over, and she moved toward the stairs.

  “Not just yet, Arielle. I’m wondering where you bought the outfit you’re wearing.”

  “Uh, T.J. Maxx, I think.”

  “And when did you buy it?”

  “A few days ago.”

  “I find that very interesting,” said Chad. “Because I know you have no money.”

  “You don’t know everything,” Arielle said sullenly.