Prologue

Dahlia

A lone tear slides down my cheek as I glance over my shoulder at the sea of mourners in the church. Dad knew a lot of people. There’s so many who I have no idea who they are, yet they somehow know me.

Did he talk about me?

Brushing my long, curly brown hair out of my face as I turn toward the front of the church, I have to wonder if he did or not. Alvin Moore was a social butterfly who did well as a local lawyer in Laura, Florida.

He seemed to care about everyone, but I don’t think he had a lot of time for me. Dad was also a wonderful networker for his firm, as it helped to bring him continued business.

As the baby in the family, I kind of got pushed to the side, because I couldn’t understand the adult conversations. I get it, I just wish sometimes that I was older than I am, so that I could have had a more important role in his life. Instead, I feel like a nuisance even at his funeral.

I have an older brother who sits next to me with legs spread wide, his sad eyes downcast as he listens to the priest do his thing during the sermon. Cyrus is five years older than me, was close to Dad, but has always been terrible at expressing himself.

His skin is milky and pale compared to my tanned, his dark red curls wild over his forehead. It’s almost as if we aren’t related at all.

He’s a very angry fifteen-year-old, and as much as I want to find comfort, it won’t be with him.

Deep breath in and out. Mom is sitting next to Cyrus, while I sit on the aisle. She’s quietly crying, which is better than the sobbing she did when Dad first had a heart attack. It was out of the blue as they were headed to bed, right as a thunderstorm cut the power.

Shivering as I think about how Mom couldn’t coherently speak to the emergency operator that night, I look up at the priest who is talking about what an amazing man he was. It’s true, Dad was the best, even though he didn’t really see me as a person. He’d help anyone if he could, and was involved in so many different community activities in our small town.

So tell me why I had to chase the ambulance down on a Sunday night to get them to come help him?

Gasping, I clamp my hand over my mouth, ignoring the disdainful, piercing glare my brother gives me. The memories of the terror, how the chill in the night air stung my skin as I ran in my sleep clothes, threaten to assault me, but I can’t let myself break here. I know he’s in pain too, but God he’s being an asshole right now.

Everyone forgets that I’m ten-years-old, since I’m tall for my age and way too smart for my own good. I look more like mom with my tanned skin, brown, curly hair, and large caramel eyes.

I don’t think I look at all like my father, Cyrus pulled all of the Irish genes, while I pulled the Latina ones. I’m telling myself that’s why they’re largely ignoring me, as Cyrus reaches over to rub Mom’s back to comfort her as she quietly cries. Swallowing hard, I remind myself that my tears don’t matter, so I force them into a little box to examine later.

Mom stands as it’s time for her to speak to everyone about Dad’s life, but I’m not expecting her hand to grab mine, effectively dragging me up to go with her. Panicking, I force my feet to walk next to her as her hips bump into me, and my pretty long-sleeved white dress billows along my ankles.

I don’t have any black clothing since I love bright patterns, and the white dress was a gift from an aunt I barely know from a year ago.

It’s humorous to me that the same aunt yelled at me to wear a slip under it, when she saw me, as she walked into my house to drive us to the funeral. I didn’t realize it was a bit sheer, because I don’t pay attention to those things.

I’m ten, climb trees, and perpetually have scraped knees and elbows. Aunt Amelia went out and bought me one, with minutes to spare before the funeral started. I don’t know the rules about wearing white and making sure my underwear won’t show through.

My eyes are still a little swollen from crying over that, and hot embarrassment creeps over my neck as I walk past Aunt Amelia. Reaching out, she twitches the skirt into place, nodding as if only now do I pass inspection.

I hate it here so much.

Tugging me to stand beside her at the lectern, Mom looks out at everyone.

“Alvin would have been touched to see everyone here today,” she says softly into the microphone. Mom’s body is trembling beside me, and despite myself, I hold tighter to her hand, pressing myself into her side.

She’s always despised speaking in front of people. Mom has a small accent from when she immigrated here from Colombia, and thinks people look down on her for it. As far as I know, I haven’t heard anyone make fun of her.

It’s such a slight accent, you can’t even tell unless she’s nervous. Like now.

“Thank you so much for coming to say goodbye to him like this. Dahlia begged to come up and give you a happy memory of her father, so I’m going to allow her a chance to tell you how much her Daddy meant to her.”

Did my mother just throw me under the bus? Looking up at her with wide eyes, I notice the way she ignores me. My skin feels too tight as black spots crawl over my vision, and I force myself to look forward.

She’s seriously putting me on the spot here.

I can’t remember a single thing, happy or otherwise at the moment surrounding my dad. Swallowing hard, I force myself to focus on what I want to say.

“One thing I remember is how much he enjoyed helping others,” I force out. I struggle to find a friendly face, my eyes finally lighting on Jack Katz. He’s Dad’s best friend, and always came for visits whenever possible.

He always had time for me.

Thinking quickly, I lie, hoping he won’t hate me for it or maybe even notice. Jack leans forward, appearing worried as he gazes at me, but I focus on his green eye. Jack has some sort of condition where he has different colored eyes, however, I can’t remember what it’s called right now. I’m too busy forcing myself to not pass out.

I’ve been quiet for too long, and people are shifting in their seats. Crap on toast, I need to move this along.

“When I was eight, Dad took me to the fair,” I lie. He did take me, but left me with Jack to schmooze with clients there. “It may sound silly, but it was a day where the word ‘no’ didn’t exist. We rode all the rides, ate junk food, even bet on the pig races.”

People chuckle at my words, solely because the money from those races go to charity. I can’t disgrace Dad even in death, after all.

“My father was a very busy man,” I continue, wanting nothing more than to get back to my seat. My knees are knocking together, and Jack is openly frowning at me. “He always had time for me, though.”

Lie, lie, lie. My traitorous thoughts follow me as I duck my head to allow my thick, dark curls to fall forward, hiding my face. Let them think I’m overcome with grief. That’s miles better than the huge liar I am.

“I didn’t know he did that,” Mom says, voice in awe. “The bond they had will be missed, that’s for sure.”

Mom says a bit more, things that I completely ignore, and then she’s dragging me back to our seats. People murmur their condolences as we pass them by, and I can feel Jack’s searing gaze staring at the back of my head once I’m sitting again.

Apparently he’s been sitting two rows back the entire time. Once the sermon is over, I stand with Mom and Cyrus to leave, lost in my thoughts as I walk.

“Careful, Dahlia,” Mom gasps as I almost run into Jack.

Glancing up, I stare up at him in dismay.

“She’s alright, Lucia,” Jack says softly. “I flew down as soon as I heard. I’m sorry I couldn’t get away before this.”

Dad has been dead for four days. It’s hard to believe our world upended so quickly, yet certain aspects of it feel hazy. My stomach hurts as I think about the fights I’ve heard Mom have with my aunt about how we’re going to be able to afford our house, because it’s not paid off and she doesn’t work.

It looks like just one more thing I’m going to lose.

“I know you did,” Mom says with a nod, sighing. “There’s so many people who are going to want to talk to Cyrus and I. Can you take Dahlia home?”

I feel relieved that I won’t have to make small talk with people I don’t know, even as I start to feel a little dizzy, because Jack is probably going to call me out for lying. My anxiety is kicking into high gear right now.

“Of course, Lucia,” Jack says, his hand on my shoulder as he guides me forward. My dad’s best friend is a force of nature, one that everyone seems to like immediately. Someone once said the word…charismatic. That’s it. It describes Jack perfectly.

“I’ll see you at home,” Mom calls, and though I nod, I don’t respond to her, because I know I’m in good hands, I’m just overwhelmed and emotional.

Jack keeps people at a distance as he demands them to step back as we walk through the aisle. Anytime people look mildly annoyed that we’re moving past them instead of waiting for the line to clear, they look over and see me walking with Jack. People quickly make room, whispering words of sympathy.

Before I know it, I’m out of the stuffy church and under the sunshine. It’s a warmer day than normal for February, which doesn’t mean much when it’ll get cooler as the sun begins to go down. Florida weather is really odd.

“Dolly, are you okay?” Jack asks, surprising me as he opens the door to his rental truck. Frowning at the freaking size of it, I raise my foot to try to get up into it. “Sh- shoot, I didn’t think.”

Carefully picking me up by putting his hands on my waist, he makes sure my feet are underneath me as I sit.

“Thanks,” I murmur, turning to face him. My mom is the first to tell me about not getting into cars with strangers, but Jack is the least creepy human on the planet. “Fine would be a lie. Trying not to do that right now.”

Jack barks out a laugh, shaking his head. “Right now, but not a half hour ago?”

“I hear time is relative,” I mutter as he shuts the door.

I watch him as he walks around the truck, muttering under his breath and pushing his fingers through his dirty-blond hair. There’s a wry smile on his lips when he opens the door and swings into his seat, his mismatched eyes glittering with mischief, even as I can see the sadness in them.

Dad and he were best friends. I don’t want to have to tell Jack that I lied because I don’t have any happy memories with Dad.

None that I could think of on the spot, anyway.

Jack turns over the engine, pulling on his seatbelt, and it reminds me to follow suit. I say nothing as I turn to gaze out the window, getting lost in my thoughts as I think about what my life is going to be like now that we have no money.

I don’t know if Dad had a life insurance policy or not, but I heard that helps when people die suddenly. My breaths start to stutter as I wrap my arms around my body, shivering despite the fact that I don’t feel cold.

“Dolly?” Jack asks as tear after tear starts to fall, my hair hiding me from the world. He apparently started calling me that when he first saw me, stating that my large eyes made me look like a doll.

I’ve never corrected him in my ten years of life, because I secretly like it.

Maybe if I ignore him, he’ll go away. I doubt that’ll happen, though. Jack always knows how to find me if I’m upset when he’s around.

“Hey.”

The truck swerves to the side, making me blink as the car shudders to a stop. We’re on a back road, I realize as I look around, on the way home. I just haven’t been paying attention.

“Do we have a flat?” I ask absently, pushing my hair out of my face without thinking.

“No, Dahlia,” he says, making me flinch because he never uses my full name.

“Did I do something wrong?” I squeak out, turning to face him.

Pulling tissues out of a packet, he presses them into my hand.

“No, not at all. I need to talk to you, and you’re making me worried. I have a feeling there’s more happening than I can see. Want to tell me what all that was when you told people about your favorite memory with your dad?” he asks.

“Mom put me on the spot,” I whisper, lifting the tissue to find that I’m crying. There are little wet spots on the tissue as I press it against my face. Weird.

“I had no idea she was going to drag me up to speak in front of everyone. I... I froze. I know that memory wasn’t about Dad, it was from when you took me to the fair, while he talked to people. I couldn’t think of anything else when I saw you.”

“You’re breaking my heart,” he sighs. “I can’t fucking believe Lucia did that.”

It’s not as if I’ve never heard him curse before, so I ignore it. Dad used to say that they’re just words, you just need to know who you can use them around. If you don’t know, don’t use them.

“I don’t know what’s going to happen,” I whisper, turning crimson as my voice wobbles. I don’t want to cry anymore. It’s not going to help anything.

“What do you mean? You’ll stay here and go to school, and figure things out,” Jack says gently, frowning harder as I shake my head. Large, crocodile-shaped tears fall from my eyes, making me drop my face into my hands.

“No, no I won’t,” I rasp. “It takes money to make all that happen. I don’t know if there’s any.”

“That’s not right, kiddo,” Jack says, pulling my hands away. “Your dad had investments. Besides, you’re too young to have to worry about money. I helped him set them up, because I wanted to make sure you and Cyrus were taken care of. Your dad worked a lot, and I kept telling him to slow down, take care of himself.”

“Aunt Amelia and Mom have been fighting, and I can’t sleep,” I admit. “I don’t think there are investments.”

“Okay, kiddo. You win,” he says. “I’m going to take you home and look into your Dad’s paperwork. I need to spend some time in his office anyway.”

“Are you allowed to do that?” I ask, blinking furiously. My eyes feel like they have a film over them from crying, and I hope that the serious look on Jack’s face is going to go away and he’ll tell me he’s just joking.

“I don’t really fucking care if I’m allowed or not,” Jack growls, checking for traffic over his shoulders. This can be a busy road sometimes, even though most of it is surrounded by cows and horses.

Accelerating, he pulls back out onto the road, the force of it pushing me harder into my seat. “I want to make sure you’re financially secure, Dolly. You’re ten-years-old and have your entire life ahead of you. If that’s not the case, then I fucking want to know why.”

Nodding, I look out the window, his anger tampening down my sadness. I’m more curious as to what he’ll find than anything else. Dad always seemed as if he had it together.

Did he mess up along the way?