Searching for Selene

  We stood that way for a little while, not talking, not doing anything except just being close.

  “I'll talk to them again soon,” she said finally. “We need to make some kind of plans.”

  “Plans?”

  “For you to meet them, Selene.”

  “Not yet,” I pleaded. “Call and talk to them if you want to. But no plans.”

  Before she could say anything else, the phone rang.

  I picked it up. “Hello,” I said. “This is Selene.”

  I needed to say that. Selene, not Micaela.

  “Hi,” said a cheerful voice. “This is Bryan Embree.” He lowered his voice. “Or should I say Gilbert Gladhill?”

  Bryan Embree! Earlier that day Abby and I had been practically fainting over the fact that he would be playing opposite me in the melodrama. Now here he was on the phone and I didn't feel anything at all.

  “Hi, Bryan,” I said.

  “Which of your personalities am I speaking to?” he asked.

  My heart thudded. Did he already know about Micaela? Had the story spread all around the county? Was everyone talking about me?

  “What do you mean?” My voice sounded raspy.

  “Astrid or Zorina,” he said. “Am I speaking to the good twin or the bad one?”

  He was talking about the melodrama. I felt limp with relief.

  “The good one,” I said. By all means, the good one. Selene. Astrid. True-blue, noble, and good all the way.

  “That Zorina,” he said. “She's cool. I'm looking forward to meeting her, too.”

  When I didn't say anything, he said, “You know. I want to see how you handle going from good to bad just by a costume change. I mean, it takes a really good actress to do that. I think you can do it. I mean, I know you can do it. I saw you in The Rent Is Due at Six last summer.”

  “You did?”

  Wow, give me the Oscar for lame conversation. I still wasn't back to reality, whatever reality was. I still hadn't grasped the fact that this was Bryan Embree, Bryan Embree, on the other end of the telephone. Calling me. Selene Swensen. Astrid and Zorina. Micaela. Whoever I was.

  Abby would flip when I told her about it.

  “Selene.” Bryan cleared his throat. “Uh, I was wondering if maybe we should get together to read our parts before the first rehearsal. You know, sort of get in mind what we're doing. What our relationship is. All that.”

  “All that” included a kiss, I remembered. I, or one of my personalities anyway, was going to kiss Bryan Embree. Or Gilbert Gladhill.

  Somebody was going to kiss somebody.

  The summer was going to be gooooood.

  Unless the Russos intruded and dragged me off to Minnesota.

  They wouldn't do that, would they?

  What were the legalities of this whole mess, anyway?

  “Sure,” I said firmly. “We can get together. When?”

  The kitchen door opened and Lex came in just in time to hear this sentence. He stood looking at me as Bryan and I wound up the conversation.

  “Friday night would be fine,” I said, answering his suggestion as to when. “See you at 6:30, Bryan.”

  I hung up.

  “Bryan?” Lex said. “Bryan Embree?”

  I nodded. “Ever think of knocking before you come in, Lex?”

  He looked surprised. “Since when? I've never knocked.”

  I didn't say anything.

  “You're going out with him?” Lex asked. “Bryan, I mean?”

  “No, Lex. We're just going to read our parts for the play.”

  “Want me to come too?” he asked. “The sheriff's part is pretty major. It might be a good idea if we all read together.”

  “Maybe later,” I said. “Maybe it would be best if it's just Bryan and me for the first read-through.”

  He stood there looking at me for what seemed like minutes but was probably just thirty seconds. Then he said, “Okay. I brought my binoculars. I was taking them over to your grandpa. Want to come along?”

  “Yes.” I needed to get away. “Let's go.”

  Hoover was waiting out by Lex's old car. He jumped inside ahead of me when Lex opened the door, and when I got in he climbed over me to sit by the open window.

  This time I didn't object. His eager happiness was a nice counterpoint to what I was feeling, after my phone call to the Russos.

  I wondered if they had a dog.

  Probably not. They probably had a perfect house without dog and cat hairs all over the carpet. Chelsea had a kitten. But it probably had to stay outside. They probably had a white carpet and made people take off their shoes before coming into their house. For sure there were no manure-y shoes on their back porch.

  “So what's new?” Lex asked as he drove down the narrow road toward Grandpa's house. “With your other family, I mean?”

  Lex seemed to take it for granted that I would keep him up to date on everything. Just like Hoover took it for granted that he was welcome on these trips to Grandpa's.

  Oh well, why not? “They want me to send a picture,” I said.

  Lex nodded. “Logical. They're anxious to see what you look like.”

  I thought about it. I'd send a picture of me, and they'd look at it, nodding and saying how much I looked like them, with their dark hair and eyes. They'd say how I belonged with them, anybody could see that just by looking at the picture. They'd get some judge to order me to move immediately to their house, and I'd have to give up the melodrama and Bryan and my whole life.

  But what could I do to stop all this?

  “Which shot are you going to send?” Lex asked. “I like that one I took of you on your horse last summer. When you tried out for rodeo queen, I mean.”

  I knew which one he meant. I hadn't made queen, but I'd looked good in my lime green shirt and black breeches and hat. My horse, Radar, was black, and my saddle was black too, with silver trimmings. In the picture I was smiling and happy.

  No, I wouldn't send that picture. It would reveal too much about me, although the cowboy hat covered up a lot of my dark hair and you really couldn't tell the color of my eyes.

  It might be better than a close-up school picture.

  Hoover barked at a squirrel crossing the road, releasing a blast of dog breath right in my face. Stinky, like my life at that moment.

  No, just one part of it. The rest was okay. And Bryan Embree was coming to see me on Friday night.

  Grandpa was fixing his corral fence when we got to his place. His old horse, Vinegar, watched with interest and tossed his head in greeting as we drove into the yard. When I opened the car door, Hoover leaped out and bounded over to the corral fence, sticking his head through the rails so he could touch noses with the horse.

  Grandpa waved his hammer. “Howdy. Was just telling Vinegar that I'd welcome somebody a little smarter than him to talk to.”

  “Don't know if we qualify,” I said, as Lex and I got out of the car. “Depends on what you want to talk about.”

  “What does an old coot like me know to talk about?” Grandpa asked.

  I thought about all the things Grandpa had talked with me about over the years of my life. The stars, the earth, the rivers and creeks that flowed nearby. The ways of horses and cows and human beings. How mountains are formed and what rocks are made of. The names of trees and flowers and weeds. The Bible, from which he could quote endlessly. The Old Farmer's Almanac, and the poems of Robert Service.

  Grandpa was part of me, much more so than those Russos whose blood and looks I shared.

  He didn't ask me about them, probably knowing that I'd bring up the subject myself when I was ready to talk.

  “Brought my binocs,” Lex said, handing the glasses to Grandpa. “Now you can spot out where we want to look next for Selena Marie.”

  Grandpa took them, holding them up to his eyes and making adjustments. “Oh, my,” he said. “Never knew what I was missing, not owning a pair of these.”

  I left him and Lex scanning the tops of the mountains,
choosing the next place to search. It had become a recreational thing for the two of them, to go hunting for clues of Selena Marie. Maybe that's one reason Grandma had never really objected. They were never going to find anything, not after all these years. It was just a reason to prowl the mountains.

  I went inside the house, looking for clues of me. The hot pad I'd crocheted for Grandma when we learned how to make them in a Primary activity about home arts of the past. The “portrait” of Grandpa and Grandma I'd done with crayons when I was in the second grade. They had framed it and hung it on the wall.

  Then there were the photos. All over the walls, on top of the old upright piano, and across the fireplace mantel were pictures of all of us. There were pictures of Naomi and Tyler and Keith from babyhood on, and of me from the time I came.

  Right away I spotted the photo of Naomi. It was a studio portrait that she'd won for an essay or something when she'd been a junior in high school, a close-up shot showing her fair skin, her blonde hair and blue eyes, her definitely Scandinavian good looks.

  Right away I knew that this was the picture I was going to send to the Russos. “This is me,” I would write on an accompanying note. And I'd sign it, “Selene Swensen.”

  Chapter 7

  I didn't take Grandpa's picture of Naomi. I knew he would probably miss it since he liked to talk to his family, alive and dead, by way of the pictures displayed all around his house. I had a copy of the same picture somewhere at home. If I could find it, I'd mail it off to the Russos the next day.

  Grandpa was still peering at the mountains through Lex's binoculars when I went back outside. “That's where we maybe better look,” he said, gesturing toward a formation of huge rocks near the top of a mountain named Mule Hill. “How about Saturday?” He looked at Lex.

  “You've already looked there, Grandpa,” I said. “Lex and I were with you. We climbed all over those rocks. Several times.”

  “Coulda missed something.” Grandpa lowered the binoculars and turned to Lex. “How about it, son? Saturday?”

  “Sure,” Lex said. “Selene and I have a play rehearsal from ten to noon in Prentice. But we could go after that. Okay, Selene?”

  I started walking toward Lex's car. “Count me out. There are snakes up there.”

  “Since when are you scared of snakes?” Lex asked.

  “Maybe I always was,” I said.

  I wasn't, but I didn't want to tie myself up for the afternoon—just in case Bryan Embree asked me to go somewhere after the rehearsal, like to have Chinese food at the new restaurant. Or to fly to China itself for lunch. I'd go anywhere with him.

  But I'd be riding to Prentice with Lex. Could I just skip out on him if Bryan asked me to go somewhere?

  Lex wouldn't care. We were like brother and sister.

  “Guess we can go without you,” Grandpa said. “But I thought you liked to ride around the mountains with us.”

  I whistled for Hoover, then looked back at Grandpa. “Searching for somebody who disappeared almost fifty years ago? I have better things to do with my time.” Who was this speaking? I didn't talk to Grandpa that way. I didn't talk to anybody that way.

  Grandpa blinked and looked down at his feet. “It's a thing I need to know. What happened to Selena Marie, I mean. I can't rest good, wonderin’ all the time. She wouldn't of gone off with that ring I gave her.”

  Lex gave me a puzzled glance as he put a hand on Grandpa's arm. “I'll go with you, sir. Someday we'll find out what happened to her.”

  Grandpa shook his head. “Selene's right. There's better things to do with our time. There wouldn't be anything left after all these years, even if something did haphappen to her in the mountains. Crazy old coot, that's all I am.”

  I felt a stinging behind my eyes. Tear alert. I'd hurt Grandpa's feelings.

  “Maybe Keith would like to go with you,” I said gently. “Maybe I'm too old for stuff like that now.”

  I could feel Lex watching me.

  “Keith would rather read a book than ride around the hills,” Grandpa said. “Like Naomi and Tyler. You were always the one who'd put up with all my nonsense, Selene.”

  I hurried over to put my arms around him. “I'm sorry,” I said. “I didn't mean what I said, Grandpa. I don't know what's the matter with me today. It was…”

  I'd been going to say, “It was Micaela speaking,” but I stopped. I didn't want to go into that.

  I also didn't want to fall into the habit of blaming Micaela for all the things that went wrong in my life. Not until I sorted the whole thing out, anyway.

  But Grandpa was right. I was the different one, the one who liked to live real life rather than read about it in a book.

  And why was that? Because I didn't belong with the Swensens. I was a Russo.

  I could feel Grandpa's rough hands patting my back. “It's all right, Selene,” he said. “It's a bad time for you right now. I shoulda had sense enough not to blither on when you're all knotted up about what's happenin’ to you.”

  I hadn't meant to cry.

  On the way home I was a soggy wreck. Abby was right. I really was a cloudburst.

  I expected Lex to lecture me about mouthing off to Grandpa. But the only thing he said was, “It seems to me that the sooner you go see that other family, the sooner you'll get settled down.”

  “Mind your own business, Lex,” I said. Then I cried some more because I hadn't meant to hurt Lex's feelings, either.

  He was silent for the rest of the ride, and I wept a gallon of tears into Hoover's smelly coat. After he stopped the car at my house, Lex reached over to take my hand. But I pulled it away. Pushing Hoover ahead of me, I jumped out and ran inside without looking back. Avoiding Mom, I went straight upstairs to my room, sniffling and sobbing as I started pawing through piles of stuff, looking for my copy of the photo of Naomi.

  I found it in a box under my bed. I also found a large brown manila envelope which contained a certificate I'd received several years before for winning a math contest. I trashed the certificate and crossed out my name on the front of the envelope. Then I copied the Russos’ address from the last letter they'd sent.

  Before I put the picture inside, I wrote Selene Swensen on the back. I didn't enclose a note.

  I'd stopped crying by then and was calm enough to feel guilty. All the Sunday School lessons I'd ever had about truth and honesty and integrity rose up like specters to confront me as I shoved the picture into the envelope. But I pushed them aside, sealed the flap, and stuck on three stamps. It might go for two, but I didn't want to take a chance on it coming back for more postage.

  I wondered if I would tell Abby about it. I wondered if she was mad about the way we'd parted earlier that day.

  I wondered if I was mad.

  • • •

  Abby gave me a questioning look when she got on the school bus Wednesday morning. She smiled when I motioned for her to come sit by me.

  At least she wasn't holding a grudge.

  “What's the latest?” she asked as she sat down.

  “Latest on what?” I asked as Chester closed the door and the bus started moving.

  Abby widened her eyes. “What else is going on in your life? Are there so many exciting things happening that you have a problem figuring out which one I'm talking about?”

  “Look, babe,” I said, “I do have other things going on in my life.”

  “Like what?”

  I saw Chester take his eyes from the road for a moment and glance at us in his mirror.

  “What big ears you have, Grandma,” I said to him.

  In the mirror I saw him grin. “The better to hear you with, my dear,” he said.

  “Let's move to the back of the bus,” I said to Abby.

  The brown envelope with the photo inside was tucked into my book bag between my English class notebook and my math book. I thought about taking it out to show Abby, but I changed my mind. She might try to talk me out of sending the picture. Her mom had been one of the Sunday School tea
chers who'd tried to instill good things in me. Abby might tell her how she'd goofed with me big time.

  “Okay, shoot,” Abby said as we slid onto a back seat.

  “Bryan Embree called me yesterday,” I whispered.

  Abby squealed, which made all of her brothers and sisters as well as Keith, to say nothing of Chester, turn to look at us. The bus drifted to the right shoulder of the road.

  Abby reached beneath her and then held out her hand with thumb and forefinger together as if she held something. “Thumbtack,” she announced. “Which one of you lowlifes left it on the seat?”

  It was obvious nobody believed her, but they all turned to face forward again.

  “Okay,” Abby said. “Tell me what he said. Tell me what you said. Does Lex know? What did he say?”

  “What does it matter if Lex knows?”

  “You know how he feels about you,” she said.

  “Brotherly love,” I whispered, and then hurried on to tell what Bryan said and what I said. What did she mean, how Lex felt about me?

  I didn't want to think about it.

  I was still talking when Chester stopped the bus to let Lex and his sister get on. Lex raised his hand in greeting to Abby and me, but he didn't come back to sit with us as he usually did.

  My stomach hurt.

  “Change of subject,” I said.

  Glancing at Lex, Abby nodded understandingly.

  “I talked to the Russos yesterday,” I whispered.

  “Cool,” Abby said.

  “Cool?” I looked at her with disbelief. “What do you mean, cool? “

  Abby grinned. “Don't you see the possibilities yet? I know you got all bent out of shape when I said you should go see them. But think about it, Selene. You're the dramatist. Figure it out.”

  “Abs, it's a mess.” I heard my voice rise and saw Chester glance at his mirror again. Looking at him, I pointed at my head. “I'm talking about my hair,” I said, loud enough for him to hear.

  “Define mess,” Abby said.

  “Mess,” I said. “M-E-S-S. Like disaster. Calamity. Catastrophe. Chaos.” I glared at her. “Define cool.”

  “C-O-O-L,” she said. “Like exciting. Opportunity. Diversion. Expanding horizons.”