Andrea locked her arms across her chest. “I’m not going to give up until you say you’ll go with me to the pool. I’ll come over here every day and drive you crazy until you say yes,” she said, thrusting her chin forward.
Jenna had to laugh. She knew how stubborn Andrea could be. She’d nag her until she gave in. Jenna also understood that her friend was only trying to help. “Okay,” she said finally. “I’ll go. Happy now?”
“Ecstatic,” Andrea said, standing up. And she did look pleased, as if she had completed some secret mission. “I’ll come over about ten, okay?”
“Right. Ten.” Jenna watched her friend cross the yard. Then she lay back, closed her eyes, and imagined Jason had been the one to wander into the yard that evening instead of Andrea.
when Jenna went inside a few minutes later, she headed straight for the refrigerator. Neither she nor her mother had bothered much with regular meals, eating only when they thought of it, which wasn’t often. Jenna hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast.
She studied the casserole dishes and the endless stacks of Tupperware filled with soups and salads. Edible condolences from friends and neighbors. Even now, people were still stopping by unexpectedly to leave freshly baked blueberry muffins or a tortellini salad. Jenna wondered if it would ever end.
Overwhelmed by the profusion of colored plastic, she reached for the most convenient container, which happened to be filled with potato salad that had gone bad. She gagged, and stuffed the salad back into the refrigerator. Finally, without giving it much thought, she slapped together a peanut butter sandwich, then tossed the gummy knife into a sink full of unwashed dishes.
The house was silent except for the distant hum of the refrigerator as she wandered from room to room, idly chewing the sandwich. Dozens of wilting flower arrangements, sent by well-meaning friends—in spite of the family’s request that the money be donated to charity instead—still sat on tables in the living room and dining room. The water in their containers had become stagnant. The two rooms smelled sour. Jenna held her nose as she walked through.
When she reached the family room, she found her mother asleep on the couch. A half-eaten slice of whole wheat toast, thinly coated with grape jelly, sat on a plate on the floor. A tiny blob of jelly stained the front of her mothers light blue T-shirt. On the floor in front of the couch lay a flower-print comforter.
Jenna shivered, stuffed the last bite of her sandwich into her mouth, and rubbed her upper arms. The room was ice-cold. The air-conditioning was on full blast, as usual.
She lifted the comforter from the floor and gently laid it over her mother.
Meredith Ward blinked and, with eyes only half open, said, “Jen?”
“Yeah?”
Her mother nuzzled her cheek against one of the throw pillows. “Did you have dinner yet?”
Jenna wiped the peanut butter from her fingers onto her shorts. “Yeah.”
“Good.” Her mother’s eyes closed again.
Jenna stood for a while, her arms dangling limply at her sides, watching her mother. During the past few weeks they had been unusually careful with each other. There had been no arguments, no scenes, yet Jenna felt an overwhelming sense of loneliness. She hesitated for a moment, then said, “Mom?”
“Hmmm?”
“Have you ever wondered why? I mean, why us? Why Daddy?” She had been plagued by these questions but hadn’t dared to ask them out loud.
Her mother was awake now. She sat up, shoving the comforter into a ball at the end of the couch, then stared at it for a few minutes. Jenna saw that the rims of her eyes were swollen and red. She envied her mother her tears.
Finally her mother said, “I don’t have an answer for that, Jen.”
“Is it something we did? I mean, I know this sounds really childish, but I can’t help feeling like we’re being punished.”
Meredith reached for Jenna’s hand and pulled her down beside her on the couch. “I know I’m supposed to say something reasonable, like ‘There aren’t any simple answers to these things. They just happen. It’s not because of anything we did.’ ” She began to pick at the dried jelly on her T-shirt. Her eyes grew moist. “I never realized before how ridiculously simplistic those words sound.” She rubbed her eyes. “I’m sorry. I’m not being very helpful, am I?”
“It’s okay, Mom. It’d be worse if you started spouting all those hollow clichés just to make me feel better.”
Her mother took a deep breath. “What keeps going through my mind is, I did everything I was supposed to, and this is how it turns out! I feel … I don’t know … cheated, somehow.”
Jenna shook her head. “I don’t understand. What do you mean, everything you were supposed to do?”
Meredith continued to scrape at the stubborn jelly stain. Jenna saw that her mother had been picking at the skin around her cuticles. Her fingers looked raw.
“I’m not sure, really. I suppose I thought all I had to do was play by the rules. If I worked hard, if I was a good wife and mother, if I was good at my job, kept a neat house …” Her voice trailed off. She pulled a soggy tissue from her pocket and blew her nose. “I guess what I thought was, if I did all those things, we’d all live to a ripe old age.” She snorted a little laugh and looked over at Jenna. Her mouth was twisted in an awkward half smile.
Jenna tried to think of something to say, but no words would come.
Her mother leaned over and brushed a strand of Jenna’s hair behind her ear. “Marge Evans from work told me that I shouldn’t think of myself as a victim. She says what happened to us is part of life.”
“Yeah, the rotten part.”
Meredith squeezed her eyes shut and pressed her hand hard against her mouth. After a few minutes she said, “I’m so sorry, Jen. I wish you hadn’t seen me like this. I’m supposed to be the strong one. I should be comforting you. And here I am—Oh, God, I must sound so angry. But I can’t help it. I keep thinking I failed him in some way, you know? That there was something I could have—should have—done. And if I’d only done it, he’d still be here.”
Jenna felt as if her entire body had been weighted down with rocks. She wasn’t even sure she’d be able to get up off the couch when the time came. “There’s nothing you could have done, Mom.”
Her mother reached for the comforter at the end of the couch and stretched it across both of them. She pulled the edge up beneath her chin and lowered her face into the soft folds.
Jenna let her head flop against the back of the couch and closed her eyes. “I still keep expecting him to come home.”
Her mother sighed softly. “Me too,” she said.
jenna entered her bedroom an hour later without turning on the light. She had been doing this ever since the evening she’d noticed the boy sitting on the front steps of the church across the street. The first time she saw him from her bedroom window had been two days after her father’s death. He had been sitting on the top step, leaning back against the church doors. Jenna thought he looked familiar. But at the time she hadn’t paid much attention. Two evenings later he was there again.
At first she hadn’t been sure it was the same person. The second time she saw him, the boy had his arms wrapped around his legs, which were drawn up to his chest, and his forehead pressed against his knees. But when he finally stretched his legs forward, letting his head fall back against the door, the setting sun spilled over his face, and she knew for certain it was the same boy. She thought she recognized him from school, although she didn’t know his name. She had wondered what he was doing waiting outside the church, then decided he was probably meeting someone.
But on the evenings when he showed up—and she had counted ten so far—Jenna never saw anyone else. And when she looked out her window after dark, he would always be gone. So she really had no way of knowing if the person he was waiting for had come or not.
Tonight the streetlight cast leafy shadows on the empty stone steps of the church. If the boy had been there earlier, he had already
left. Still, she had to wonder why he came.
7
the next morning Jenna sat on the deck eating an English muffin, waiting for Andrea to show up. The branches of two giant sugar maples formed a canopy overhead. They waved gently in the breeze. It was an unusually clear and cool morning for late July.
Gazing up at the branches, Jenna was suddenly reminded of her dream about the Ghost Tree. The same dream that had continued to haunt her night after night since her father’s death. She could feel the pull of the forest, the helplessness of her own body as it was dragged along by the tangled mass of vines. She hated the sensation of being out of control. It terrified her.
It was better not to think about the dream. Instead she took another bite of her muffin and thought of Jason Friedman.
And the first thing she did, when she arrived at the pool a half hour later, was look for him. But he was nowhere in sight.
“Don’t worry, he’ll be here,” Andrea whispered as several of their friends crowded around them. Jenna hugged those she hadn’t seen since the funeral, glad to see them. She felt, at least for the moment, as if nothing had changed. Although she didn’t try to kid herself.
Then she unfolded her beach towel and sat down. She had just begun to smear suntan lotion on her arms when she saw Jason coming toward her. He seemed to have gotten taller since she’d last seen him, and a little thinner. But he still had the same impish face, though his usual grin was absent at the moment. He sat down on the grass next to her and put his arm around her shoulder, then let it drop. The half hug was awkward, as if he wasn’t sure it was the right thing to do.
“I’m really sorry about what happened to your dad,” he said. “I just found out this morning. We didn’t get home till late last night. I called your house a little while ago, but nobody answered. I guess you’d already left.”
Jenna only nodded. She couldn’t seem to speak.
“Jeez, I feel rotten.” He reached for her hand. “I should have been here with you.”
Something odd was happening. Her heart was racing furiously, and not in the way it used to when she was near Jason. This was entirely different. The pounding was so intense it filled her ears and blocked out all other sounds.
When she still didn’t say anything, Jason put his hand on her shoulder, tilting his head so that he could look directly into her face. “I feel like I’ve really let you down. I’m sorry.”
Jenna shook her head, trying to reassure him. “It’s okay. You couldn’t have known.” She found herself struggling to take a breath.
“It must be tough.”
“It is.” The words poured out on a whispered rush of trapped air. Jenna gasped, then took a deep breath.
Andrea, who had been listening to every word, leaned forward and tapped her arm. “Are you okay?”
“It’s the heat,” Jenna said. She stood up and nodded toward the water. “I’m going in.” Out of the corner of her eye she saw Andrea and Jason exchange concerned looks.
She sat down on the edge of the pool and let her feet dangle in the cool water, hoping neither Andrea nor Jason would follow her. She closed her eyes and took deep swallows of air. With each breath, the smell of chlorine stung her nose.
When she opened her eyes, she thought she caught one of the lifeguards on the other side of the pool watching her, although it was difficult to tell since he was wearing sunglasses. Something about him seemed familiar.
“You sure you’re okay?” Jenna felt a hand on her shoulder as Andrea sat down beside her.
“I’m sure. It’s the heat, that’s all.” Jenna was still studying the lifeguard.
“He’s cute, isn’t he?” Andrea said.
“Who?”
“The lifeguard you’re staring at.”
“I wasn’t staring at him.”
“Well, I wouldn’t blame you if you were.”
Jenna turned to her friend. Andrea was kicking at the water with her feet and watching the lifeguard. She hadn’t shown any interest in anyone since Tony Coletti had broken up with her four months ago, and Jenna had begun to think her friend had sworn off boys permanently. It was good to see Andrea interested in someone again.
“Who is he, do you know?”
“His name is Michael MacKenzie. He’s going to be a senior. And he’s a jock … a big track star at school.”
“He sounds a little too good to be true. What’s the catch?”
Andrea slid into the pool and rested her arms on the edge. “Well, there is this one tiny problem.”
“Which is?”
“He’s got a girlfriend.” She tilted her head in the direction of a group of kids playing cards beneath a nearby tree. “She’s the one with the long red hair. Her name’s Darcy Kelly.”
“You call that a tiny problem?”
Andrea pursed her lips. “Okay, big problem.”
Jenna squinted to get a better look at Michael MacKenzie. His lips and nose were covered with white ointment, and the metallic glint of his sunglasses completely hid his eyes. He probably hadn’t been watching her at all before, she thought. She’d only imagined it. He was just doing his job, keeping a sharp eye on all the swimmers. Still, there was something about him …
when she got home that afternoon, Jenna made her daily call to Chief Zelenski. She’d been doing this for two weeks now, sometimes calling twice a day, hoping for information. But this time he wasn’t in when she called.
Disappointed, she left a message, then headed up to her room to work on math problems. She had just started on the first equation when Jason called.
“Can I see you tonight?” he asked.
Jenna, silent, held the cordless phone a few inches away from her face and stared at it. Something was terribly wrong. Her hand was shaking so badly that the phone had been tapping the side of her head.
“Jen?”
She put the phone as close to her ear as she dared. Her heart was racing so fast she couldn’t catch her breath. It was happening again. Just as it had at the pool earlier. Only this was worse.
“What?” She barely managed to get the word out.
“Uh, is this a bad time? I mean, do you want me to call back later?”
She tried to remember what her drama teacher at school had taught her about controlling stage fright. Because that was what this felt like, only ten times more severe. And she couldn’t for the life of her imagine what was causing it. Breathe, she told herself. Long, deep breaths. Focus.
“Hey! You still there?” Jason was beginning to sound alarmed.
“Yes. Sorry.” Breathe, Jen. Breathe. “Tonight?”
“Is that okay? I mean, that’s all I thought about the whole time I was in Maine. You know? Seeing you.”
Jenna walked over to the window, concentrating on her breathing the entire time. Outside, the late-afternoon sun bathed the front of the church across the street in a soft glow. That was when she saw the boy mounting the steps of the church and taking his place in front of the door. This was the earliest she had ever seen him there. Then, for the first time, she realized he was staring over at her house. A slight shiver ran along her spine.
“I wanted to ask you at the pool,” Jason was saying, “but we didn’t get much of a chance to be alone.”
“Tonight’s fine,” she told him, because she could think of no reason not to see him.
“Seven? Maybe we can catch a movie at the mall.”
She shifted the phone to her other hand and wiped her sweaty palm on her shorts. All the while she continued to focus on her breathing. “Okay … well, then … see you.”
Relieved to have the awkward conversation over, Jenna hung up the phone. Then she turned her attention back to the boy across the street. She thought he looked like the lifeguard from the pool, but she couldn’t be absolutely sure.
The boy was no longer staring at her house. He had curled himself into the same position she had seen him in many times. And each time he did, she was reminded of the hermit crabs, curling into their scavenge
d shells, that she sometimes found along the Nantucket beach, near the Wards’ summer rental.
She could not have said why, but something deep inside her seemed to sense his pain. That was why she stood, her forehead pressed against the window screen, watching over the boy until she heard her mother’s car in the driveway.
meredith Ward came through the back door balancing two bags of groceries and her briefcase. Without a word, Jenna grabbed one of the bags and set it on the counter.
Her mother began putting away the groceries, all the while grumbling about one of her clients.
“That Porter woman at Fennel is going to drive me into an early grave,” she announced, slamming two cans of soup onto one of the cabinet shelves. Then, as if she suddenly realized her unfortunate choice of words, she rested her palms on the kitchen counter and took a deep breath. “Sorry. Bad day.”
Jenna knew the Fennel department store chain was one of her mother’s biggest accounts. “Want me to fix dinner?” she asked. Usually she wasn’t this accommodating. But her mother looked thoroughly exhausted. Besides, she wanted to get dinner over with as soon as possible so that she’d have enough time to take a shower before Jason showed up.
“Oh, would you?” Her mother seemed grateful. “I’d love to take a few laps in the pool and cool off.” Then she laughed. “I guess you can tell I need cooling off.”
Her mother went upstairs and returned wearing her bathing suit and carrying a towel. “Make it something light, okay?” she said. “I’m not really all that hungry.”
From the kitchen window, Jenna watched as her mother stepped onto the diving board. Meredith Ward was an excellent swimmer, and probably the most graceful diver Jenna had ever seen. She barely made a splash when she hit the water.
After a few minutes Jenna turned her attention to dinner. What could she make that was light? She began to rummage through the refrigerator. She finally decided on a simple salad and some yogurt with fruit and granola mixed in.
She was adding fresh strawberries to the yogurt when her mother, towel wrapped around her wet hair, came into the kitchen. “I needed that,” she said. “There is absolutely nothing like a few laps across the pool to work out a little tension.” She lifted her shoulders up to her ears a few times, then tipped her head first to the right, then to the left, stretching her muscles.