Coming Apart

  “Whoa, look at all that snow!” exclaimed Jack, and Olivia and Henry joined him at the back door.

  “Eighteen inches so far,” said Mr. Walter.

  “Whoa,” said Jack again.

  “Can we go outside in it?” asked Henry.

  “Not until it dies down a little,” replied Mrs. Walter. “This is a real blizzard.”

  “Just like in the movies,” said Jack, awestruck.

  “Just like in real life,” said Olivia.

  “But movies are more exciting.”

  “You don’t think real life is exciting?” Olivia opened the dark refrigerator and removed a carton of milk.

  “I was just saying,” said Jack.

  Olivia slammed the milk onto the kitchen table. “And I was just saying, too. Jeez.”

  “Olivia?” her mother called from the dining room. “Could I see you for a minute, please?”

  “Ha-ha. Now you’re in trouble,” sang Jack.

  “Because of you.”

  “Olivia, for heaven’s sake!” Mrs. Walter set aside the paper, rose from the table, and led her daughter into the living room. “Would you please tell me what’s going on?”

  Olivia crossed her arms. “All I said was that the storm was like in real life, too. After all, here it is, snowing right in front of us.” Olivia waved one arm in the direction of the windows to illustrate her point.

  “Jack was just making an analogy,” replied her mother. (Olivia said nothing.) “And you picked a fight with him.”

  “I did not!”

  “Would you like me to repeat the conversation I just heard?”

  Olivia was tempted to ask if her mother was a recording device, but thought better of it.

  “Not only did I hear a foul tone of voice,” Mrs. Walter continued, “which, by the way, was completely unnecessary, but I saw you slam the milk carton on the table. Why?”

  “Why did I slam the carton down?”

  “Why any of it? Why did you pick a fight? You’ve only been up for five minutes and already you’re fighting with your brother.”

  “Well, he was fighting with me, too.”

  “Actually, he was defending himself.” Mrs. Walter took Olivia’s hands in hers. “Something is going on, Olivia, and we need to talk about it. I want you to spill the beans. You haven’t been yourself for quite some time.”

  “Do we have to talk this very second?”

  “No, because you’ll be a lot less crabby after you’ve eaten. So please return to the kitchen and eat a civilized breakfast with your brothers. When you’ve finished, we will go to your room and talk.”

  Olivia let out a sigh so loud that her father called from the next room, “I hope you didn’t roll your eyes just now, Olivia.”

  Olivia had been about to but stopped in time. She returned to the kitchen, where she ate bread with peanut butter and drank orange juice while her brothers chattered about building a snow fort with Cole and Travis and Mathias. She left the table when Henry said, “You know what would be funny? If snow forts were called snow farts.”

  “Okay. I’m ready for my punishment,” Olivia announced to her mother.

  “Could you please put the sarcasm on hold?” asked her father.

  Her mother said only, “Upstairs.”

  In her bedroom, Olivia, who was wearing a nightgown, a sweater, and her sneakers, sat backward on her desk chair, resting her chin on the top rung. Her mother sat on the edge of the bed, hands clasped, and waited.

  “Am I supposed to start?” asked Olivia.

  “Please.”

  “You’re the one who wanted to talk.”

  “Olivia, I have had enough of this. Please tell me right now what is going on. I’m serious.”

  And with that, Olivia burst into tears. “I don’t know! I don’t know what’s going on!”

  “You don’t know, or you don’t know how to explain it?”

  “Explain it, I guess.” Olivia wiped her eyes on the sleeve of her sweater.

  “Does this have anything to do with Jacob?”

  “Yes,” said Olivia so softly that she could barely hear the word herself. Her mother waited. At last Olivia said, “Something’s wrong with me.”

  “Tell me what you mean.”

  “I want to like Jacob, but I just don’t. I mean, I do like him! He’s one of my best friends. But I don’t think I like him the way Melody and Tanya do. You know, I don’t like like him.”

  “What’s the matter with that, though?”

  “The matter is that Jacob like likes me. He says I’m his girlfriend. But I don’t want him to be my boyfriend, just my friend who’s a boy. And,” Olivia rushed on, “everyone thinks I’m his girlfriend, and that that’s very cool. Flora and Nikki, even Ashley.”

  “And you want to talk to Jacob about this, but you don’t know how to do that. Is that right? You don’t know what to say to him?”

  “That’s only part of the problem,” admitted Olivia.

  “What’s the rest?”

  “That something’s wrong with me. And that’s the reason I don’t like like Jacob.”

  “Olivia, I really don’t know what you mean.”

  “Well, why don’t I want a boyfriend? Why does having a boyfriend feel all wrong?”

  “Maybe because Jacob isn’t the right boy for you. Just because he’s your good friend doesn’t mean he would be your dream boyfriend. Or maybe it feels wrong because you aren’t old enough to have a boyfriend or to be a girlfriend. Don’t forget that you’re the youngest kid in your school. You’re nearly two years younger than most of the students in your grade, and that includes Melody, Tanya, Flora, and Nikki. And Jacob.” Olivia nodded miserably. “Honey, do Flora and Nikki want boyfriends?”

  “Actually, no. They sort of can’t believe Jacob asked me to be his girlfriend. I don’t think they’re interested in boys yet.”

  “Doesn’t that tell you something?”

  “Yes.”

  “So,” said Mrs. Walter, “do you agree that nothing is wrong with you?”

  Olivia managed a weak smile. “Yeah.”

  “Good. But you know you have to talk to Jacob, don’t you? You have to tell him what’s going on.”

  Olivia nodded. “I do know. I just don’t know what to say. And I can’t do it right away. I really can’t!”

  “Then don’t. Wait a few days and think about it. Enjoy the storm in the meantime. But promise me you’ll talk to Jacob sometime this week. It’s only fair to both of you.”

  “I promise.”

  “Good. Now why don’t you call Flora and Ruby and see what they’re up to? It’s going to be an interesting day. With the power out, everything in town is closed. The roads are closed, too.”

  “You don’t have to go to work?”

  “No. This is a grown-up’s version of a snow day.”

  So Olivia did call her friends — just before the phone service went out. Ruby had answered and was saying, “It’s like we’re pioneers!” when the line suddenly went dead.

  Olivia stared at the receiver in her hand and then announced to her family, “The phones are out, too!”

  “Cool!” exclaimed Jack and Henry at the same time.

  “Can I go next door?” asked Olivia, eyeing the crystals of snow that were flinging themselves at the windows. “I promise I won’t go any farther than Flora’s, and when I get there we’ll stay inside.”

  “This,” said Jack, “is when we could use a secret passage to connect our houses. It sure would come in handy today.”

  Olivia recalled the story that all Row House children learned about a secret passage connecting the attics of the homes. When she was younger, she had spent hours searching for it — so had Jack and Henry and later Flora and Ruby — but it was not to be found.

  “You can go,” said Mr. Walter. “I’ll help you.”

  Olivia bundled into her warmest clothes — boots, hat, mittens, scarf, parka — for the fourteen-yard walk to Flora’s house, while her father wrestled with
the storm door and attempted to shovel some of the snow from the stoop.

  “You’d better take this with you,” he said, handing her the shovel when at last they were standing on the bottom step. “You’re going to have to clear off Min’s stoop in order to get inside.”

  Olivia could barely hear her father over the howling wind. “This really is exciting!” she said, her mood already improving.

  She set out across the yard, wading through blowing snow that reached well above her knees. She saw that against the Row Houses the snow had drifted as high as her head.

  “Are you okay?” her father shouted from the Walters’ doorway.

  Olivia turned and managed to give him the thumbs-up sign, but she had to close her eyes against the snow, which pricked at her face like needles. When she reached the front of Flora and Ruby’s house, she couldn’t see the stoop, but she stumbled to the door, rang the bell, and started shoveling.

  “Olivia!” exclaimed Flora as the front door opened. She peered at her friend through the storm door. “I can’t believe you’re here. Let me help you.”

  Five minutes later, Olivia, her wet clothes drying in the kitchen, sat in Flora’s bedroom with King Comma in her lap.

  “See? We really are like pioneers, aren’t we?” said Ruby, who was curled on the bed.

  “Pioneers with nonworking telephones and computers and refrigerators,” said Flora.

  “Well, you know what I mean. Isn’t this fun?”

  “Yeah, it is,” agreed Flora.

  “I wonder what the pioneers would do during a blizzard,” said Ruby.

  “Oh, you know. Make soap and brooms and stuff,” replied Olivia. “I think they’d keep working. Catch up on all their indoor chores.”

  “We’re not going to do chores,” said Flora. “I think we should make hot chocolate —”

  “How?” asked Olivia. “No microwave, no stove.”

  “Oh, yeah. I guess we are a little like pioneers.”

  “Do you think Min would let us boil water in the fireplace?” asked Ruby.

  “Absolutely not. She’d have a fit. I know. Let’s go downstairs and set up the card table in front of the fireplace, where it’s warm, and play board games. With Min. She would like that.”

  And that was how Olivia spent the morning. At lunchtime, she and Flora and Ruby and Min ate jam sandwiches and apples and noticed that the snow was letting up. In the middle of the afternoon, the power came back on, and by dinnertime, the people on Aiken Avenue were starting to shovel their walks and driveways.

  “We won’t be back to normal for a couple of days, though,” said Min.

  “Maybe school will be closed on Monday after all,” said Ruby hopefully.

  Olivia didn’t care whether school was open or closed. She felt better than she had in weeks and went home to apologize to her family.

  It was amazing, Mary Woolsey thought, how quickly Camden Falls could clean up after a blizzard. She remembered a snowstorm, one not quite as severe as the recent one, that had closed the town for a week when she was a child. But that was before the days of hulking snowplows with salt spreaders that could do their jobs in almost any conditions. She looked through the front window at her yard, which was buried under more snow than she had seen in a long time, and at her walk, which had been shoveled on Sunday, and at the street, where streaks of pavement glistened under a clear blue sky. Only four days since the storm and already the roads were open and life in Camden Falls had returned to normal. Even school had opened on Monday with only a two-hour delay.

  Now it was Wednesday and Mary was preparing for the event she had had to postpone from Sunday. Her little family, the one that consisted of herself and her two cats, was about to expand considerably. Her relatives were coming.

  Mary clasped her hands, took one more look out the window to be sure her guests would be able to park somewhere on the street, and returned to her kitchen. What did one serve to people who would be arriving at eleven o’clock in the morning? Lunch? Brunch? Snacks? Mary was making coffee and had baked cookies and coffee cake and had bought Danishes at Sincerely Yours. She was prepared to fix sandwiches, too, and she had sliced fruit and made a yogurt dip to go with it.

  “We have plenty of food,” she said aloud to Daphne and Delilah, her elderly orange cats. “That’s not the problem. The problem is where to sit. We won’t all be able to fit around the kitchen table. I guess we’ll just have to eat on our laps in the living room. Goodness, I’ve never had so many guests.”

  Mary returned to the window and clasped her hands again. She checked her watch. “Ten fifty-four,” she announced to the cats. “I wonder if they’re the kind of people who will be on time.” She left the window, eased onto the couch, and drew Delilah into her lap. “Goodness me, what have I gotten myself into? What are we going to say to one another? These people are my relatives, but I don’t know them at all. What if conversation runs out — or worse, what if they’re all horrible? They could be rude and loud and … and I’ve invited them into my home.” She stroked Delilah’s back. “Of course, I did speak to Catherine over the phone, and she sounded very nice.” (Catherine was Mary’s half sister.)

  Daphne, who was curled tightly next to Mary, suddenly sat up and pricked her ears forward.

  “What is it?” asked Mary. “Was that a car door? And here I thought you were deaf.” She patted Daphne, set Delilah gently on the floor, and once more crossed the room to the window.

  A van had pulled up in front of her tiny house, and climbing out of it were seven adults, one of them cradling an infant to her chest.

  “Oh, my,” said Mary, and she opened her door.

  “Mary Woolsey, is that you?” A woman who was somewhat younger than Mary halted on the path through the gardens.

  “Yes,” said Mary hesitantly.

  “Oh, good. We’ve got the right house then. I’m Catherine Landry, your sister.” Catherine continued her approach, but she slowed down and regarded Mary uncertainly.

  Mary had wondered how she was supposed to handle such a situation, and she’d even glanced through a book on manners that her mother had bought years ago, but she hadn’t been able to find a single mention of how to greet a sister that you were meeting for the first time when you were seventy-eight. She had finally decided that a handshake might be the thing. Best not to appear overly demonstrative with someone you didn’t know. But as Mary stepped outside and saw more clearly the woman who was approaching her — with an armful of flowers, Mary now noticed, and a face that might be her very own — she stopped and put her hand to her heart. And Catherine dropped the flowers and folded Mary into her arms.

  Mary felt tears running down her wrinkled cheeks and knew that Catherine was crying, too.

  “To think, after all these years,” said Catherine. She drew back from Mary but held tight to her hands as she turned to the people who had crowded behind her on the walk. “Mary, this is my husband, Gil, this is our daughter, Missy, and these are our sons, Marc and Richie. Over there is my niece Cassandra — she’s my youngest brother’s daughter — and that’s Lizette, Marc’s wife. I suppose you can guess who’s in Lizette’s arms.”

  Mary smiled. “Your new granddaughter.” She let go of Catherine’s hands and stepped forward to greet the rest of her guests, just as Catherine said, “Would you like to hold her?” and reached for the baby.

  Missy was looking at the flowers on the ground and laughing. “Mother!” she exclaimed. “What a mess! I think we’re overwhelming Mary. Anyway, it’s freezing out here and Mary isn’t wearing a coat. Let’s go inside first.”

  “Of course,” said Catherine. “What was I thinking?”

  Missy stooped to gather the flowers, and Mary led her guests indoors. When their coats had been hung in the closet, and Daphne and Delilah patted and fussed over, and the coffee poured and pastries served, Mary sat in the living room and looked at her company.

  She put her hand to her heart again. “I scarcely know where to begin,” she said, and
laughed nervously. “A whole lifetime to catch up on and I don’t know what to say.”

  Catherine smiled and reached into a bag that Gil had carried inside. “Maybe this is the way to start.” She handed Mary a photo album and opened the worn cover. “My mother kept this,” said Catherine. “The very first picture in here is of me not long after I was born.” She turned a page. “And here I am with my father — our father, I mean.” She looked at Mary. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. I have no idea how you felt when you learned that your father had started another family after leaving you and your mother. But since you went looking for us, I assume you want to know about your relatives.”

  “Oh, I do!” said Mary. “I have no idea why our father did the things he did, and the truth is that what he did hurts, but you’re family, and I absolutely want to get to know you.”

  Catherine squeezed Mary’s hand. Then she turned back to the album and said, “We lived in Wisconsin when I was born. That was our house. I was the first of four children, by the way, so you can see that you have a lot more family to meet. When I was two, we moved to Vermont, but we returned to Wisconsin a couple of years later and that’s where my brothers and I grew up.”

  “How did you find your way to Massachusetts?” asked Mary.

  “I went to college in Worcester and just stayed on. My brothers are still in Wisconsin, though.”

  “Then my brothers and I went to the same college in Massachusetts that Aunt Catherine had attended,” spoke up Cassandra, “and we stayed here, too.”

  “I could have wound up anywhere in the world,” said Catherine. “Anywhere at all. And I settled forty miles from a sister I didn’t know I had. But that I’d always wanted,” she added. “Did I mention that before? I’d always wanted a sister, and then it turned out I actually had one.”

  “And I longed for a family, and look what I got,” said Mary.

  “A whole passel of relatives, and you’re stuck with us!” said Richie.

  Catherine and Mary turned pages in the photo album while Cassandra and Richie fixed plates of fruit and sandwiches and carried them into the living room. Daphne and Delilah settled themselves in Marc’s lap. The baby slept placidly in Lizette’s arms.