Brighter Than the Sun - Darynda Jones Page 0,7
powerful, I’m actually pulled toward her by an invisible force. Like a magnet. I have to go. To see if she’s okay. Which is ridiculous, I know, since she’s not real.
The first time that happens, the first time I’m drawn to her, I’m seven. Her emotions tug at me. The strongest is anger. An anger that only Dutch can feel. She is powerful, and her emotions, even at four, are a force to be reckoned with.
She is sitting in a car with Denise. She calls her stepmom Denise, in fact, and it makes the woman so mad, her face turns red. But Dutch has figured out Denise doesn’t love her, and no matter what she says or what she does or how she acts, the woman probably never will. So she calls her by her first name instead of “Mommy” like Denise wants. Denise doesn’t even want it for herself but for Dutch’s dad. To make everything seem okay on the outside, no matter how messed up things are on the inside.
But Dutch wants her dad to know how she feels. How distant Denise is. How unloving.
I realize Denise’s face is red for a different reason this time. Her father has died, and Dutch is trying to tell her so. She’s trying to give her a message from him, but Denise is shaking, she is so astounded.
She glares at Dutch. Her hand twitches, she wants to slap her so bad. She decides a good berating will do the trick. “Charlotte! How dare you say such a thing.”
Dutch doesn’t like being called Charlotte. She likes “Charley” better. It’s what her dad calls her. And her uncle Bob. They are her two favorite people in the world. She likes her sister, Gemma, okay, but because Gemma is Denise’s pet, Dutch keeps her distance for the most part.
Denise doesn’t believe her. Dutch repeats the message, trying to get her to understand. Something about blue towels. I don’t get it, but it seems pretty important to the dead guy talking to Dutch from the backseat. He looks over his shoulder at me. His eyes widen, but I’m more interested in the reaction of Dutch’s stepmom. Of his miserable daughter.
“I can’t believe you would say such a horrible, horrible thing.” Denise grabs Dutch’s arm and jerks her closer. “You are a horrible child. I’m going to tell your father what you just said, and I hope he makes it hurt for you to sit down for a week.”
A flash of anger takes my breath away. I hold back. I want to kill the woman for the hundredth time, but I don’t. Still, it’s my dream. Surely I can get rid of her somehow.
They are behind a bar that Dutch’s dad frequents. It’s a local cop hangout. She unbuckles Dutch’s seat belt and pulls her across the seats and out the driver’s door with her. Her fingernails bite into Dutch’s skin. I feel the pain as they tear through several layers. But more than anything, I feel the humiliation when she drags Dutch inside and deposits her roughly on a bench just outside the kitchen.
“You sit here. I’m going to get your father.” She leans down until her face is mere inches from Dutch’s. “And then we’ll see how much he thinks of his little angel.”
She stomps off as a waitress offers her a sympathetic glance. Dutch wants to crawl under the bench and disappear. Humiliation and anger surge through her.
Denise finds Dutch’s dad, Leland, at a table with his brother, Robert, or Uncle Bob, as Dutch calls him. Denise is throwing a fit. He shifts in his seat, embarrassed by Denise’s behavior. Almost as humiliated as Dutch is until he hears the words, “She said my father just died.”
He glances around. Stands up. Ushers her toward the door.
“She said he died, Leland. How dare she say such a thing!”
“Denise, honey, please calm down.”
“Calm down?” she screeches. Really loudly.
The other people in the bar, mostly cops, are either amused or annoyed. Some of them don’t like Denise. One of those is Leland’s brother. He glares as Mr. Davidson tries to lead Denise away.
“Here you are, drinking with your buddies in the middle of the afternoon, and your daughter is telling me my father died.”
“We were having lunch.”
She leans forward until her face almost touches his. “She is evil.”
Mr. Davidson clenches his jaw. He is angry and she is making a scene in front of his colleagues.
I want to rant. To rave. To get their attention. Dutch