Stranger With My Face

“That’s crazy,” Neal said disdainfully. “There’re no such things as ghosts, and if there were, they wouldn’t come out in the daytime, and they wouldn’t belong to live people.”

  “This one does,” said Megan.

  Neal, finding the subject too ridiculous to argue about, went off to the kitchen to ransack the refrigerator. As soon as he was gone, I turned on my sister.

  “Did you really mean that, about seeing a—a ghost person—more than that one time when you thought it was me looking in your window?”

  “Sure,” Megan said. “Sometimes she walks down the hall. Neal’s bed is over against the wall, so he can’t see out the door the way I can. She looks in at us, but she doesn’t stop. She goes on up the stairs.”

  It was more than I could take. Here I was reaching for Lia—trying with all my strength to make contact—with no success, while my brother and sister and even someone as remote from my life as Jeff Rankin were seeing her everywhere. What could be the reason? Was I trying too hard and in some way blocking communication? Or did Lia simply not want me to find her? If that was the case, why would she be coming here at all? She must want me to know about her continued existence, or else she wouldn’t go where the others could see her. It was as though she were playing some cat-and-mouse game with me, filling my ears with elusive whispers of her presence, but keeping herself always out of sight.

  With a sigh, I got up from my seat on the sofa and went over to the window. The sun was low in the sky and shielded by a thin layer of clouds so that the world was awash with cold, gray light. The water looked dull and flat with a metallic cast that gave it the illusion of solidity. I could almost imagine some adventurous soul attempting to walk across it to the mainland. Off to the west I could see the chunky shape of the ferry making its late afternoon trip back to the island with its load of office workers and those high school students who had stayed for meetings and sports activities.

  Gordon would be on that ferry. Suddenly I wanted nothing in the world so much as to be there with him on the deck of the bow. I was tired of worrying, tired of wondering, tired of the emotional exhaustion the past few months had brought upon me. I wanted to fly back in time and circumstance to those fine, fair summer days when life had been so simple and I had been no one and nothing except Laurie Stratton, secure in my identity, secure in my relationships, with nothing more to fill my mind than sunning and sailing and falling in love.

  I turned abruptly away from the window.

  “I’m going out for a little while,” I said to Megan.

  “I wouldn’t,” she said. “It’s really cold outside.”

  I regarded her with astonishment. “Okay, Mom,” I joked.

  “I don’t think you should go out there,” she said very seriously. “That ghost thing is on the dunes. Neal said so.”

  “That ‘ghost thing’ is anywhere she wants to be,” I said crisply. “From what you tell me, she’s around this house more than anyplace else. She hasn’t hurt anyone yet, has she?”

  “I’m not scared of her here,” Meg said. “Not when we’re all together. Out there it’s different. You’ll be by yourself, and she might not let you come back.”

  “You let me worry about that,” I told her. “Actually, I’d love to run into the ‘ghosty.’ There are a lot of things I want to ask her. In the meantime, I’m going down to the pier to meet the ferry. Maybe I’ll bring Gordon back with me.”

  I left my young sister surrounded by her animals, all of whom seemed to be staring after me with worried glass eyes. At the bottom of the stairway I got my jacket out of the coat closet and opened the front door and stepped out into the cold.

  Megan had been right about the temperature. It had taken a sudden drop in the latter part of the day, as though to keep pace with the graying of the water and sky. The air had the smell and feel of approaching rain. I zipped my jacket up to the collar and thrust my hands deep into its pockets and started down the Beach Road toward the landing.

  The passenger load on the Brighton Island Ferry changes greatly after Labor Day weekend. During the summer months the boat is jammed on the 5:15 run from the island back to the mainland. There are crying babies and sandy, salty children and weary parents clutching diaper bags and picnic baskets and empty thermoses that started the day filled with lemonade. They crowd the dock, shoving and snapping and nursing their sunburns in feverish concern that if they are not the first on board they will be left behind. In the winter it’s different. Daytime visitors to the island are few. When I reached the pier the only one waiting there was Mary Beth Ziegler.

  “Hi,” I said, sitting down beside her on the plank bench by the seawall. “Are you going somewhere or are you meeting someone?”

  “Neither, exactly. Mom sent me down to bring my dad’s dinner.” She gestured toward the insulated bag that she had set on the ground between her feet. “What about you?”

  “I’m meeting Gordon,” I said. “He stayed after school for practice.”

  “Darlene waits in the afternoons for Blane so they can ride back together.”

  “She must really like basketball.”

  “Darlene likes Blane.” There was a moment’s silence. Then Mary Beth said carefully, “You know, it really hurt her feelings that you didn’t show up on Saturday. Even if you couldn’t make it, you might have given her a present or sent a card.”

  “A present?” I said. “Why?”

  “It’s expected on birthdays. Especially when there’s a party.”

  “Was Saturday Darlene’s birthday?”

  “Oh, Laurie, come off it,” Mary Beth said irritably. “Of course it was her birthday. Nat and I gave her a surprise slumber party and I invited you myself. If you couldn’t come, you should have called me.”

  “You invited me?” My voice came out thin and strange, rising into a squeak at the end of the question. I drew a deep breath and forced it into control. “You must be wrong. Maybe you meant to ask me, but you didn’t. I didn’t know anything about a party.”

  “I definitely asked you,” Mary Beth said firmly. “That day last week when it got so foggy. You were out in front of the post office when I was coming out with the mail.”

  “And I said I’d come?”

  “You didn’t say you wouldn’t. You smiled and nodded. I was in a hurry—Ren was waiting with the car—and I thought you’d call me if you wanted more details. Don’t tell me you don’t remember.”

  “I don’t,” I said. “I’m sorry. I guess I was thinking about something else and didn’t hear you. It was the day of the fog?”

  I vaguely remembered the day. Fog is common on the island in November. The mists rise from the water, and when the sun doesn’t break through the clouds to burn them off, they settle upon the village like a blanket. It had been on Wednesday—no, on Thursday. And where had I been? Did I go into the village for the mail that day? It was definitely possible.

  No—I hadn’t been there; suddenly, I remembered. Mom had been crating some oils Thursday for a show in Boston. Crating paintings was always a family project, and I had gone straight home after school to help. The fog had been thick on the Beach Road, and I hadn’t been able to see Cliff House until I reached it. Then it had appeared directly in front of me, as though a curtain had been jerked away to reveal it. I had entered and climbed the stairs to the living room and gone directly to the window. It had been like standing in the middle of a cloud. I hadn’t even been able to see the water.

  No, on Thursday I had not been in the village.

  “You heard me,” Mary Beth was saying. “I was just a couple of feet away from you, and you looked right at me.”

  “I said I’m sorry,” I told her.

  “That’s not good enough. You’re going to have to do something about yourself, Laurie. You’ve changed so much since last summer. Everybody’s noticing. You’re like a different person. Nat says your parents must be getting divorced or something.”

  “Nat says what?” I exclaimed.

  “Well,
maybe they’re not, but it wouldn’t be a surprise to anybody. People who shut themselves away like they do are usually having problems. It would explain why you’re acting so withdrawn and weird lately. Nat says—”

  “I don’t care what Nat says!” I exploded. “My parents are very happy, thank you. A divorce is the last thing in the world they’re considering. Nat and the rest of you have a lot of nerve! My parents’ personal life is their own business!”

  “Laurie, calm down, please.” Mary Beth looked nervous. “I didn’t mean to get you all upset. Gordon had said something to Nat about—well, about how you’d found out something that was causing problems between you and your parents. He didn’t tell her what it was. We just assumed—”

  “You have no right to assume anything,” I said angrily. “And as for Gordon—”

  “Don’t be mad at Gordon,” Mary Beth said. “He was trying to make excuses for you, that’s all.” She got to her feet and bent to pick up the bag. “Here comes the boat. I’ve got to take this down and give it to Dad.”

  I got up too. I was shaking with anger. My hands were balled into fists in the pockets of my jacket. I had confided in Gordon! I had trusted him! And he had turned right around and spilled everything to these people I barely knew! He had told them—but, no, in fairness I had to admit that he hadn’t told them about my adoption; if he had, Mary Beth would definitely have mentioned that. And these weren’t strangers. They were my friends as well as Gordon’s, or at least they were supposed to be. It wasn’t their fault that I had drawn away from them. As Mary Beth had said, I was the one who had changed since the previous summer, when I had been thrilled to be included in every activity. Mary Beth, Natalie, Gordon—they were just the same now as they had always been. If they were looking for answers to explain my own odd behavior, that was understandable.

  “Mary Beth,” I said. “Wait a minute.”

  She had started down the pier. Now she turned to glance back at me.

  “What is it?”

  “I’m sorry,” I said for the third time. “Really. I’m sorry I missed the party. I have had a lot on my mind, but it doesn’t have anything to do with my parents’ marriage.”

  “I’m glad,” Mary Beth said coolly. “I hope you get it—whatever it is—worked out.” Her mouth had a tight, pursed look to it, as though to make clear to me that people didn’t get mad and raise their voices to the likes of Mary Beth Ziegler.

  She turned her back and started again down the pier. Suddenly I recalled the day I had brought Helen to the island table in the school cafeteria. Mary Beth’s mouth had condensed itself in the same way then.

  I didn’t feel like trailing her down to the boat, so I stood where I was and watched it from a distance. This was what Megan always referred to as the “coming home ferry,” because most of the people arriving on it had homes on the island but worked on the mainland. The men in business suits and overcoats came trooping off, carrying their briefcases, and behind them came Blane and Darlene, walking arm in arm. I knew I probably should intercept them and make my apologies. After all, it had been Darlene’s birthday. I toyed with the idea and then discarded it. I just wasn’t ready to go through another confrontation.

  I expected Gordon to disembark directly behind them, but he didn’t. It wasn’t until several minutes later that I saw him emerging from the cabin, and a girl was with him. They crossed the deck together, so deep in conversation that they kept walking into people. When Gordon stepped onto the dock, he turned back and took the girl’s hand to help her across.

  It was Crystal, Tommy Burbank’s date from the Halloween dance. She was a sophomore, if I remembered correctly—little, blond and giggly. She was giggling now, with her head tipped back so that her eyes would twinkle up at Gordon, who was making this easy by bending over her. They came on slowly up the dock, with their clasped hands swinging between them, and passed within six feet of me without noticing.

  So—good-bye to Gordon.

  What would happen, I wondered, if I shouted after him? Would the sound of my voice cause those hands to loosen their hold on each other and go flying apart? Would Gordon whirl and come rushing back to greet me, red-faced and stammering?

  “Laurie! I didn’t see you there! This is Crystal—remember Crystal? She was over at the school watching practice, and she forgot her gloves, and I was just trying to—”

  No, that wouldn’t be Gordon. He didn’t take guilt trips.

  “Look, Laurie,” he would say defensively, “you’ve been acting so weird, I figured you didn’t care if I found somebody else to spend my time with. Now you can be free to concentrate on whatever the hell it is you’re so wrapped up in lately.”

  Having heard the words in my head, I felt no need to hear them out loud. So I stood there, quiet, watching Gordon and Crystal walk away together, surprised that I was feeling so little. I should have been hurt, shouldn’t I? My first real love was mine no longer. I should, at the very least, have been angry.

  Good-bye to Gordon. Good-bye to green eyes that told me I was pretty and to sun-bleached hair, warm beneath my fingers. Good-bye to the mouth that taught me how to kiss.

  Why wasn’t I crying? Why was I feeling nothing? Such a short time before, I’d longed for Gordon. I’d come to the dock to meet him—expecting what? That I could go back again? That I could be a person I no longer was?

  As the last of the departing passengers moved up the pier, I fell into step with them.

  “It’s going to be a cold winter,” the man walking next to me commented conversationally as the chill wind swept upon us from across the water.

  “You’re right about that,” I told him.

  I took my north turn on the Beach Road, and when the dunes cut off the wind the cold didn’t seem to lessen as one might have expected, but in some strange way it grew more intense. I should have been shivering, but I wasn’t. It was as though I were a part of the cold and therefore could not react to it. Ice within ice. Numbness all the way through to the emptiness at my core.

  Eventually, I began to realize that I was no longer alone.

  She was beside me. Lia.

  We continued on in silence, the two of us, shoulder to shoulder, with the night descending upon us thick and fast the way it does in winter. I didn’t turn to look at her until we were nearly to Cliff House. It was enough to know that she was there.

  When the curve of the road brought us into view of the house, I did turn.

  “Hello,” I said.

  “Hello to you.” She regarded me solemnly. The eyes, grave and questioning, set in my own familiar face. My own voice coming soft to me through the semidarkness. “You’re ready?”

  “I’ve been waiting and waiting,” I said accusingly.

  “I know, but you weren’t ready yet. Now you are.”

  We went up the path and entered Cliff House together. And together we remained.

  We are the two sides of a coin.

  Lia and I.

  When I say we remained together, I don’t mean, of course, that she was there every moment of every day and night. She had her other plane of existence about which she refused to be questioned. She came and went, yet even when I was alone I felt her continuing presence. She had moved now from my dreams into my everyday world, a shadow sliding across my plate at dinner, a whisper grown so loud that it drowned out the sound of other voices.

  “You haven’t been listening to anything Meg’s been saying,” my father accused me.

  “Of course I have.”

  “About her story—”

  “I was listening to it.”

  “I wasn’t telling a story. I was saying how I wrote one,” Megan informed me in a hurt voice. “They’re going to print it in the school paper.”

  “That’s great,” I said. “It really is.”

  There was a moment’s silence.

  “Laurie,” Dad said slowly, “are you all right? You just don’t seem like yourself lately.”

  “I’m fine. Completely fine.?
??

  I’d leave the table after dinner at night, do the dishes, and gather up my books as though I were going to study. No lingering with the family. No silly card games. I’d climb the stairs to my room, where Lia might be waiting, and, if she wasn’t, then I would be the one to wait.

  “What does she do up there every evening?” my father asked, his voice floating up to me from the living room below. “She can’t have that much homework. She’s never spent time in her room like this before.”

  “She’s seventeen,” Mom reminded him. “That’s a difficult age. I think she must have had a fight with Gordon. He hasn’t been calling the way he used to.”

  “He’s got a new girlfriend,” volunteered Megan, the walking newspaper.

  “Oh, dear,” Mom said. “Poor Laurie! She must feel terrible. I wouldn’t be that age again for anything in the world. Everything hurts so deeply.”

  Her sympathy gave me a twinge of guilt, because I didn’t deserve it. The truth was that I probably could have worked things out with Gordon. He had come up to me at school the day after I had seen him on the pier, ready, I think, to make amends.

  “Mary Beth says you went down to the boat to meet me yesterday,” he began a little nervously. “I didn’t see you there.”

  “I know you didn’t.”

  “And now you’re mad because you saw me talking to Crystal?”

  “I’m not mad,” I said. “There’s no need for you to explain anything.”

  “Crystal stayed after school with Darlene,” Gordon said. “They’re real good friends. Darlene always stays to watch practice and ride back with Blane, and Crystal was with her. We came back across on the same ferry.”

  “Holding hands?”

  “I took her hand to help her get ashore. You can’t be jealous about something like that, Laurie. If you’d ever take the time to stay for practices like other girls do when their boyfriends are on the team—”

  “I said, I’m not mad,” I interrupted.

  “The hell you’re not!”

  “I’m really not,” I assured him levelly. “I was a little upset at first, but I’ve gotten over it. I think it’s nice that you and Crystal have found each other. Like you’ve told me before, things between you and me aren’t the way they used to be. If they were, I would be coming to practices.”