Novels by Lizbeth Adolf

ARIANA He was heavier than he looked.I got his arm over my shoulder and pulled him up inch by inch, and he let me, which was worse than if he'd fought me. His head hung forward. His feet dragged. Every few steps he'd sag and I'd have to brace us both against the wall and wait for him to find his legs again.She promised she'd be back.The words sat in my head and wouldn't leave.I kept walking. Kept dragging him. Kept my eyes on the corridor ahead.And then I wasn't in the corridor anymore.I was seven years old, standing on the front steps of a house that doesn't exist anymore. It was morning. My father had his jacket over one arm and his keys in his hand, and he was crouched down in front of me so we were the same height.Papa, where are you going?Work, sweetheart.When are you coming back?He'd smiled. He always smiled. That's the part I remember most — that smile. He had no idea it was the last one.I'll be back before you know it. Wait for me.Promise?I promise.I never saw h

ARIANA Skylark moved first.She walked past me like I wasn't standing there, her robe trailing behind her, and stopped a few feet from where Jack was on the floor. She looked down at him the way you look at something the wind blew in.She took one last drag off her cigarette. Held it. Let it out slow through her nose.Then she dropped it.It hit the marble and rolled. She didn't put it out. She just watched it smolder.Then she spat. Not at him — near him. Close enough that he'd see it if he ever looked up. He didn't.She turned back to me."See this?" She gestured at him with one open hand, like she was showing me a piece of furniture that had broken. "This is what Jack is like."I didn't say anything."Ten years," she said. "Ten years I've watched him do this. Big man at the table. Can't hold his liquor past midnight." She tilted her head. "Worthless."I stayed where I was. My arms hung at my sides. My hands were loose, but I could feel my fingers starting to curl, and I made mysel

ARIANA The guest room was small and plain, tucked at the end of the second-floor corridor, far enough from the family wing that I couldn't hear anything through the walls.Good.I sat on the edge of the bed with my knees pulled up and my back against the headboard, wearing one of the plain dresses Angela had left in the closet. The wine-stained one was on the floor in a heap. I hadn't bothered to fold it. I hadn't bothered to do anything except sit there and try to stop shaking.The phone rang.I looked at it for a second before I picked up. St. Vincent's. I knew the number by heart."Hello?""Ariana?" It was Maria, the night nurse. "I'm sorry to call so late.""Is she okay?""She's fine. She's awake. She wanted to hear your voice."I closed my eyes. "Why is she awake at this hour? She should be sleeping. Her medication—"Maria chuckled. Soft. Warm. The way she always did when I started spiraling."Relax, mija. Let me put her on.""Maria, it's almost midnight—""Just hold on."The li

JACK I stood up.The chair scraped back against the marble. Skylark's pen stopped moving. Romano didn't look up from the table."Where are you going?"His voice was calm. It always was."I'm spending the night here," I said.I didn't wait for an answer. I turned and started walking.The hall was quieter now. Most of the staff had cleared out. A few lingered near the doors, folding linens, stacking chairs. The chandeliers were still on but dimmed, and the whole room had the particular hush of a party that was over but not yet forgotten.I was halfway to the corridor when I saw them.Skylark. Leaning down. Her hand on the back of Romano's chair, her mouth close to his ear. She was talking low — quick, deliberate, the way she talked when she wanted something and didn't want anyone to hear her ask for it.Romano nodded once.Then he looked up."Son."I stopped.I didn't turn around. I just stood there, back to the table, hands at my sides, waiting for whatever he was about to say. I'd le

ARIANA The wine had dried stiff against my dress by the time I came back down.I'd changed into something plain — one of the dresses Angela had left in the closet, nothing anyone would look at twice. I'd wiped my face, fixed my hair, and told myself I was only going back down to find Jack. To tell him what I'd seen. To tell him about the man in the corridor, the man in the dark room, the man whose face I still couldn't shake.That was the plan.Then I stepped into the hall.Most of the guests were gone. Staff were clearing glasses off the long table, folding napkins, carrying trays back toward the kitchen. The music had stopped. The chandeliers were still on, but dimmer now, like the house itself was getting ready for bed.Skylark was still there.She stood near the head of the table, one hand resting on the back of Romano's chair, the other holding a fresh glass. She wasn't looking at anyone in particular. She was just — waiting. The way she always waited.I slowed.Jack was walking

ArianaI moved before I thought.He was already halfway down the hall, walking toward those dark doors like he had all the time in the world, and something in me snapped — the same thing that had made me follow him into that room, the same thing that had kept me alive this long. I wasn't going to let him disappear again.I took two steps.A hand closed around my arm and yanked me back."We're not done here."Skylark.I tried to pull free. Her grip tightened. Down the hall, the man reached the doors, pushed one open, and stepped through. The door swung shut behind him without a sound.He was gone."Let go of me."Skylark didn't let go. Her eyes were on mine, bright and steady. She'd seen him too. She'd seen me chase him. Whatever calculation had been running behind her face all night, it had just finished."Who was that?" she said."I don't know.""You don't know." She pulled me closer. "You don't know, and yet you were running after him like he owed you money.""Let go."Her free hand