A LIGHT IN THE FOREST

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER TWO

VEGA

She had to stop at a rest area in Kansas. It wasn’t far enoughfor Vega, who felt the prickle of Zach chasing after them betweenher shoulder blades. But Riley had been crying nonstop sinceshe’d left the foothills, and in her hurry, Vega hadn’t properlybuckled the carrier into the seat and had noticed it jiggling loose afew miles back.It was late morning, and the cold spring air raised goosebumps along her arms. Vega carefully slid Riley out of his seat.His body was both soft and rigid, and she nestled him in the crookof her arms. She couldn’t stop shaking, and it seemed to upsethim more, because the volume of his cries intensified, adding tothe prickles of anxiety that wormed through her muscles.Before having him, she hadn’t held many babies—a handful,maybe, but only for a short time while a woman hurried aroundher home, collecting clothes or packing a bag. Vega’s mother hadalways given her a job to do when they were helping someoneleave, and when she was younger, holding a baby seemed like animportant one. Her mother had given her a warning too: ifsomething happened, run to the van and hide.Vega’s breathing was too shallow. Nice and slow. Her motherwould gently pat a woman on the back, rub small circles, her voicesoothing. Pack warm- and cool-weather clothes; don’t forgetessentials: medicine, Social Security cards, underwear,toothbrushes, contact numbers. Vega rocked her arms, felt thebaby’s cries vibrate against her chest. She couldn’t rememberwhat she’d packed. She’d thrown some things into a bag, but ithadn’t been much. All these years helping others, and when itcame down to it, she hadn’t learned how to help herself.From the cup holder in front, her phone buzzed, vibratingagainst the plastic. It had been buzzing for the last hour, but shedidn’t have to look at the screen to know who it was. Zach was theonly person who ever texted her. She grabbed the phone, glancedat the screen. A mix of Snaps, texts, and voice mails. The mostrecent text read:We’re both so tired from the new baby. We need to bemore patient with each other.The message was followed by a string of emojis: hearts, a kissface, a sheepish one, more hearts.The screen blurred. Her mother’s voice. The classic abuser,she would have said. Controlling, manipulative, charming at all theright times. A sob stuck in her throat. She leaned her head againstthe side of the van door, staring down at her son, whose pink lipscurled around his cries. She kissed his forehead. Why had it takenZach’s fist for her to leave him? What was wrong with her?She sat on the edge of the van floor—feet on the ground,jiggling Riley up and down—and for the first time, the enormity ofwhat she’d done hit her with such a force she let out a gasp.Where was she going? How would she take care of Riley on herown? What would Zach do when he realized she’d left?She opened the driver’s-side door, slid her fingernails alongthe carpet under the seat. It lifted away easily. Stuck into a divot inthe floorboards was a waterproof plastic bag. Inside the bag werecash—not much, but more than she had on hand—and her SocialSecurity card, along with Riley’s birth certificate, which she’dadded only a few weeks before. Her mother had always hiddenanything important and taught Vega to do the same. It was a hardhabit to break and one she’d almost thought silly, given her newlife with Zach and the baby. But on the night Zach pinned heragainst the wall, she’d sneaked out after he’d gone to bed andadded Riley’s paperwork to her own. That night, she lay besideZach, her leg muscles tense, lungs tight, and when Riley woke upcrying, she spent the rest of the night in his room, rocking him.She pocketed the money, replaced the bag, and made a bottle.Riley’s soft gulps were loud in the van. His eyes searched herface while he ate, still that dark blue from when he was born butstarting to get lighter. Maybe he’d have green eyes like her mom.He was peaceful when he ate. The crying happened soon afterand never seemed to stop. She’d been a mother for a total of twomonths, and she knew so little. She swallowed past a lump. Hermother had been alone, too, and she’d figured out how to do it.Vega had no choice but to do the same.She always missed her mom the most in the quiet momentswith Riley. Or when she needed someone to talk to. To ask foradvice. Hear her voice. Grief spread thick over everything that hadhappened since. And when it threatened to suffocate her, shethought of her unusual childhood. One of brightly coloredadventures, their lives a blur of truck stops and campsites,learning how to use her hands to build, fix, and make things work.No day exactly the same. Her mother couldn’t stay in one placefor long, and as soon as a job ended, her desire to put miles onthe van returned. This was the crucial difference between them:as Vega grew older, she craved boredom, stability, and a home.Tears stung her eyes, as they often had since her mom died.Vega’s life wasn’t the same without her. And to think she’d oncethought she could make it on her own. The last thing she’d said toRenee was a ghost that appeared in her dark and loneliestmoments: I think I’d like to stay put for a while. She hadn’t said itin anger, wasn’t trying to upset Renee or make a point. Vega hadbeen twenty-three and wanted to try living on her own terms.They’d just finished a two-week job in Silverthorne and wereenjoying the stillness that came from a day off. Vega had joinedher mother outside the van where they were camped in thewoods. Pine trees rose above their spot; wind sifted through theneedles, making a soft whooshing sound. A bird called out. Vegahad just handed her mother a cup of strong coffee and sank downin a chair, tipping her head back to stare at the deep-blueColorado sky. Tapped her feet on the dirt, nervous.Heard there’s a maintenance job open at the high school.Her mother hadn’t responded, and Vega deflated, worried itwould end with Renee saying no and Vega giving in. But this timeshe felt different—a desire to find her own path growing, a quietanger spreading inside her heart. She breathed in and said whatshe’d rehearsed. I love you, Mom, and I’m grateful for all ouradventures, but this is important to me.Waited for Renee’s typical response: Life is lived in motion.Silence.Vega stared into her mug, gripped the ceramic with herfingernails. I-I’m going to do it with or without you.But Renee didn’t respond, and Vega wondered if this timewould be different. If her mother would have a change of heart. Orif Vega would actually have the guts to follow through with it onher own. The silence was heavy, and Vega couldn’t bring herselfto look at Renee.Her mother’s coffee cup had dropped to the ground, pineneedles floating in black liquid sludge. Renee looked funny,staring at the coffee on the ground. Something about her face wasoff. Like melting clay. One eye lower, the edge of her mouth bentinto a frown.Mom?She never spoke again after that. And a few months later, shewas gone, Vega’s heart in pieces and her decision to stay in oneplace made for her. It wasn’t much later when she met Zach, andshe was so hungry for something to fill the emptiness that maybeshe ignored her gut, overlooked the warning signs.Riley sucked the bottle dry, and Vega hoisted him up to hershoulder, patted his back. She pulled out her phone, fingershovering over the screen, and something heavy pressed againsther chest. She had no one to call.It rang and Vega jumped, dropping it on the ground. Zach’sface appeared on the screen beneath a few specks of dirt.Handsome, that perfect blend of angular jaw with just enough of afive-o’clock shadow to give him a man-of-the-outdoors lookwithout overdoing it. Her stomach curdled at the image; shetouched her wrist, felt the pull of her incision scar on herabdomen, tender now from his assault.The call went to voice mail. She picked up the phone, and aSnap popped up on the screen. She clicked on the icon—it wasan image of his face, lips pursed in a kiss. She clicked the buttonto turn the screen off. The phone had been a gift from Zach whenshe first moved in with him. She’d never had one so nice before.They’d sat on his front steps, his arm draped around hershoulders. He’d clicked on something called Find My.This way I’ll always know where you are. He’d kissed the spotjust under her ear. You never have to be alone again.She’d snuggled against him, hand on her belly. Her babywould have the home she’d always dreamed about. But her smilehad wavered. Something about the way Zach had said it, thepossessive grip of his arm, gave life to a tiny seed of doubt. She’dbrushed it away. Her mother had doubted all men. That didn’thave to be Vega’s story too.Riley let out a loud burp. Another ping on her phone. A text thistime that unfurled across her screen. What the f**k are you doing inKansas? Bring my son home or I’m calling the cops.Panic gnawed into her belly.Ditch the phone. It was one of her mother’s cardinal rules. Ifthey can find you, they will.She pictured her Bitmoji on Zach’s Snap Map. The chilled airbreathed goose bumps across her skin. He could see where shewas. She clicked on the app and found something called “GhostMode” that hid her location.The phone rang again with Zach’s picture, and her gripweakened as she thought of his words from all those months ago.I’ll always know where you are. She fumbled with the phone,trying to remember what he’d clicked to get to the Find My app.She’d had a phone before, but it had been cheap and affordable—no bells and whistles like this one. Finally, there it was. Inside anicon that looked like a bike sprocket. She slid the “Share MyLocation” button to Off, and her lungs finally opened. Anotherbuzz, another threatening text, and Vega powered off her phoneand tossed it into the cup holder like it might sting her. Couldn’tshake the feeling that he could see her, hear her, find her.She laid a blanket across the floor and carefully settled Rileyon top, quickly unbuttoning his blue jammies to change him. Herstomach in knots, hands shaking. She didn’t have the money toreplace the phone, not yet. And without an idea of what she wasgoing to do next, she didn’t feel like she could ditch it until shecould get another one.From a handmade box on the floor, she pulled a diaper andthe wipes. She thought of Zach calling the cops. It was ludicrous.She’d show them her bruises, tell them everything. He was thehorrible person, not her.But her mother never involved the police. She refused, evenwhen Vega questioned her about it. Said that in her experience, itcaused more trouble than good. Told her about a woman whoseabusive husband got her arrested for defending herself. Twistedher words, intimidated her, charmed the police. The woman endedup in jail, signed a confession just so she could get out instead offacing a long judicial process, had to take anger-managementclasses in order to be around her children again.Vega pulled the tabs on Riley’s diaper closed, zipped up hispajamas, and held him to her chest, horrified to think of losing himto Zach. She stared out across the rest stop parking lot to theplains that spread flat for miles and miles. Her body hollowed.Where could she go? She thought of the loose coalition of womenwho had worked with her mother from time to time. One couldprocure an ID and other paperwork with some advance notice;another secured cash as needed. Renee had been the one whohelped women leave. And Gwynne, the only one Vega had evermet—she was the counselor, the one who followed up, made surethe people they helped were doing the best they could. Vega hadlost touch with Gwynne after Renee died. Ashamed she hadn’tcarried on where her mother left off. Confident that she’d neverneed her help anyway.She touched her forehead. Idiot.She chewed on her tongue. Think. What was her next step?Find a safe place. It was a checklist of questions. Do you havefamily you could live with? Money stashed away somewhere? Asafe place he doesn’t know about? All these years, she’d listenedto her mom prepare women for a life on the run. Never thinking itcould be her.Renee had been far from a typical mom. Built her career byhand, literally, as a very skilled handywoman. Her business hadbeen targeted toward female customers, she’d told Vega, becausewomen needed someone they could trust to come into theirhomes. How come they trust you? she’d asked once.Her mother had nudged her gently with an elbow and smiled.Because I’m not a man. It had been a truth that Vega had beenraised on. Like vegetables are good for you, too much sugar isbad, and most men are dangerous. Vega had let it sink in.Men are dangerous.They’d lived in Renee’s van and traveled wherever there waswork. Sometimes staying a few months in one location, othertimes only a few days. It mattered less about the work and moreabout her mother’s need to move on. Vega always sensed itcoming because it typically happened after one of Renee’sfrequent nightmares.There was a picture that Vega had framed and hung on thewall of the van, near where she and her mom used to sleep. Onethat she’d taken of her mother at work—face still withconcentration, kneeling, a tool belt cinched around her waist, hairunder a bandanna.Hand me the flat head, would you, peanut?Sometimes the work was straight up—installing a new faucet,painting the house, landscaping. There wasn’t much Reneewouldn’t take or couldn’t do. She was a hard worker, diligent andfair, and she was always the lowest priced. It was, Vegaunderstood as she got older, one of the many reasons they livedon the road. It was the cheapest option. And the safest, accordingto Renee.Hold the paintbrush at an angle, got it, V?But there was another side to her work, one that Vega didn’tsee until she was old enough to understand the early-morningcalls, the hurried escapes. As a little girl, Vega grew anxious forthe women, could feel the fear that swirled around the ones whoran. It made her cling to her mother.Ring the doorbell and give her the envelope, okay?Okay. She’d been ten at the time, and they’d been in Montana,working jobs in Billings. Word of mouth spread quickly, and onceRenee picked up one job, she’d usually snag a few more. Thisone had been so easy—unclogging a kitchen drain—that Vegahad wondered why Renee had taken it.If the husband answers—Tell him I’m selling Girl Scout cookies, I know. Her leg musclesfelt twitchy, pierced with a nervous energy.This wasn’t unusual. Sometimes they gave women and theirchildren rides to places or thick envelopes like this one. Thewomen had suitcases stuffed so that the zippers were nearlybursting, or the children clutched trash bags and one stuffedanimal. Sometimes all her mother did was sit at the kitchen tableafter a job and listen while the women cried. Some women hadbruises—finger-size, on their forearms or biceps, along their jaws,circling an eye. It’s why Renee worked only when the husbands orboyfriends had left for the day or an evening out. It was allcarefully planned.On that day, her mom had sat in the driver’s seat, frowning atthe house in front of them. An early-morning glow hit the roof,sliding down the eaves as the sun rose. Vega held the big yellowenvelope in her hands and played with the silver clasp, openingand closing it.What’s in here, Momma? She’d never asked before. Shewasn’t sure why, other than it seemed part of the job and it feltsilly to question it, like asking why she painted a house or used ahammer to pound in a nail.Her mother had looked at Vega and smiled, but it didn’t reachher eyes. She’d touched Vega’s chin and softened, like Vegareminded her of something good.A way out, she had said.That day had gone terribly wrong. But it was the first time Vegaunderstood what her mother really did—and when she trulybelieved what Renee had always told her: men were dangerousand couldn’t be trusted.Riley squirmed against her and she patted his back, inhaledhis milky breath. There was a painful pull in her shoulder fromwhere Zach had twisted her arm. Her mother’s lifetime of workand Vega’s longing for a family had trapped her in a similar life asthe women they’d helped.She placed Riley back into the carrier. His eyes pinned to herface, and Vega felt the weight of his innocence, his implicit trust. “Idon’t know what I’m doing,” she whispered.A state-trooper car pulled alongside her van, and a femaleofficer with dark hair and easy dimples got out of the passengerside, smiling at Vega and rubbing her hands together. “It’s coldtoday!” she said, and her eyes drifted to Riley in his car seat, whowas moving his little fists in the air, warm under a blanket Vegahad tucked around his body. Vega fiddled with the blanket,needing something to do to hide a sudden nervousness thatfluttered through her hands.The officer smiled at Riley. “Snug as a bug, aren’t you?”Her gaze slid from the baby to the state of Vega’s van, thetools organized in handmade crates that were bolted to the floor, amattress in the back, plates and silverware in plastic storage tubs.When Renee could afford it, she’d purchased a trailer to store allher tools but had kept the bins inside the van to organize theirliving space. At Zach’s request, Vega had gotten rid of the trailerwhen she moved in with him. There’d been no room to store it,and he didn’t want it permanently parked outside.Vega felt her pulse beating fast in her neck. She slid the vandoor closed, gave the trooper a smile that felt stiff and insincere.“Better get back on the road while the little man has a full belly.”The woman blinked and Vega bit the inside of her cheek, hermind turning over Zach’s threat. Had he already called the cops?“Have a safe trip,” she said, and moved toward the bathrooms.Vega breathed out and flung open the driver’s door, bucklingher seat belt and starting the van all at the same time. Sheneeded to get far away from Zach, somewhere she could breathewithout fear knotting her stomach. She couldn’t think this close tohim.Her back tires squealed when she accelerated, and Rileystarted to cry. Where should she go? Her hands gripped thesteering wheel, thighs jittery with indecision and panic. When sheturned the dial to warm the van, her eyes caught the postcardclipped to an air vent. A picture of a town called Crystal,somewhere in the hills of Ohio. She’d found the postcard whenshe was little, snooping around the van on a snowy day, boredand curious. It had been stuck inside one of the clothing drawersher mother had built under the bench seats in the van. She’dthought it was the prettiest picture—nothing in the West lookedthat green—and asked if she could hang it in the van, like peoplein houses do with pictures. Her mother’s jaw had tightened, andVega bit her nail, worried she’d be in trouble for snooping.Instead, her mother had touched her face, eyes gentle. Whywould you want to hang a picture of a nothing town full ofnobodies and bullies?Vega put her hands on her hips. How come you keep a pictureof a nothing town with a bunch of nobodies and bullies?Her mother laughed, and it had poured over Vega like thecoolest rain on the hottest day. She didn’t know then that she wasa sassy child. There were no other kids around to compare herselfwith.Renee had dipped her chin as though Vega had won. Fairenough. I keep it to remind me why I left and why I won’t ever goback.Vega accelerated onto the highway, her shoulders tense buther decision made. A nothing town full of nobodies sounded likethe perfect place to hide.