it wasn’t until her shadow cut into Oliver’s vision that he looked up. Their mother’s grave was well-tended. Fresh flowers sat in a squat green plastic vase, and the twigs and other natural debris had been brushed to the side.
Mary Patricia Miller, in loving memory. Always smiling.
Her mother had always told her that a smile was her best defense against life’s obstacles, and it was something she practiced herself.
“What are you doing?” Audrey asked her brother, shaking her head. She held back the desire to shake him and yell, because that wouldn’t get her anywhere, even if it might be a good release for her own bubbling emotions. “You stole a car?”
Oliver had the good sense to look ashamed. “I had to get out of there.”
“Committing a crime will certainly do that.”
“Mrs. March said I could borrow the car any time.” Oliver clearly knew the response was BS, because there wasn’t an ounce of confidence in his tone.
“Borrow, buddy. Not steal. Big difference.” Audrey crouched down beside him, keeping her eyes clear of her mother’s grave. She couldn’t bear to look at it right now—not with the sorry state her family was in. Their mother would be devastated. “We need to get you home and return the car.”
“I’m not going back there.” He crossed his arms over his chest.
“Oh, you’re going to sleep overnight in a cemetery, huh? Great decision. Literally no horror movies have ever started like that.” Audrey rolled her eyes. “I’ll see you later, zombie boy.”
Oliver snorted. “Don’t make me laugh.”
“Someone has to.” She wrapped her arms around him and rested her cheek against his head, ignoring how gross it felt from all the hair product he used. Ugh, why did teenage boys do that? “I know things have been tough at home.”
“Don’t you want to leave, too? You get the worst of it more than any of us.”
She did. She’d fortified her armor so she could absorb the verbal blows her father dealt them, shielding her siblings as best she could. That was her lot in life. “I’m not leaving you kids, ever.”
“Couldn’t we all go somewhere else? Together?” Oliver sighed. “I wish Mom was still here.”
“Well, she’s not. It’s just us.”
“Are you angry at her for dying? Is that why you never come here?”
Audrey swallowed against the lump in her throat. It felt like he was reaching right into her chest and ripping her heart out with those questions. “There’s no point being angry. Nobody wants to die.”
“That’s true.”
“Please come home. I know it’s been tough, but you’re so close to finishing school, and the second you’ve graduated, we’ll get you out of here. I promise.”
Oliver looked at her warily. “How are we going to do that if I don’t want to go to college? You might want that, but I don’t. So how else am I going to get out? I…I can’t be stuck here forever.”
They’d been dancing around this decision for a year—with Audrey telling him a course in graphics would help his chances of finding a job and Oliver pushing back. Even if he didn’t, Oliver’s grades might not be enough to get him the scholarship he’d need to get an education somewhere with room and board included. Because his fears were right. Without college, how else would she protect him?
“I don’t know,” she said softly. “I wish I had all the answers. But I promise we’ll talk about it and figure something out. Maybe we can look at moving you in with Aunt Harriet? She keeps offering, and while I hate to separate you from the rest of us, if that’s what it takes to stop you from running away…”
Oliver looked up at her, eyes full of hope. “Really?”
“We can talk about it,” she repeated. “I can’t promise anything, but I’m hearing you loud and clear, and we’ll find a solution.”
“Do you want to say goodbye to Mom before we go?”
Audrey still couldn’t even force herself to look at the grave. She was hanging on by a thread now, her positive facade so cracked and crumbling she was worried it might slip off for good. “We should get you home as quickly as possible, and then you’re going to give Mrs. March an apology.”
Oliver sighed and nodded. “Will you come with me?”
“Of course.”
She helped her brother to his feet and tried to sling an arm around his shoulders, but he was way too tall, so instead, Oliver put his arm around Audrey. He was barely a boy anymore. A young man