by Sarah Dessen
They were alone, then, that night, as they climbed onto Chris’s boat with a six-pack they’d grabbed from the market. It probably felt like old times, high school days, when they’d had nothing to worry about but curfew. But beyond that buzz, the real world was looming: Chris was going to be a dad, and my mom was moving away. Bailey said Celeste had always wondered what they talked about that night, alone on the raft in the dark. But Waverly had never said. She never talked about it at all.
What we did know was this. At some point, Waverly pulled her disappearing act, slipping into the dark water. When Chris realized she was gone, he started shouting for her, first half laughing, then angry. By the time he got into the boat to search, he was enraged and, as blood alcohol tests would later show, way over the legal limit. He had to be, everyone said, to forget the contours and landmarks of the lake he knew by heart, and run at full speed into the mooring that was a hundred feet from the Calvander dock. Chris wasn’t in the boat as it began to sink. He’d been pitched into the water, breaking his neck. It might have all started with Waverly wanting to vanish, but in the end, he was the one who was gone.
Emma? You there?
I picked up my phone. It was early morning, the sun not even up, and I’d assumed it was my dad calling from Greece again across time zones. But it was Ryan.
Why are you awake right now? I asked.
Sunrise hike with cast and crew. Bonding experience. My legs are screaming.
I blinked. Cast and crew?
For the musical. South Pacific. I told you, right?
No. You’re in a show? I’m impressed!
Downstairs, I heard a door slam. Even at this hour, someone was up. Probably making toast.
Well it is a drama camp, she wrote back. Dad strongly suggested I stop moping in my room and get involved. Please never tell him I said this but it’s actually kind of fun.
So you’re acting? I wrote back.
I’m not. Tech crew. Everyone’s pretty cool, though.
There was a pause, and then two pictures popped up on the screen. One was of Ryan at a picnic table with a bunch of other campers, all of them making stupid faces for the camera. The next was of her standing over a lightboard, a girl with long black hair in an army cap beside her.
How’s the mystery grandmother?
I’d only texted with Ryan a few days earlier, and this had been what we’d talked about. But already, North Lake felt like something bigger than just Mimi and me seeing each other again, or even me coming to stay. But I wasn’t sure how to word it for myself yet, much less someone else.
Good, I wrote. Learning my way around.
Oh crap, we’re going back down the mountain. Pray for me. Talk soon???
I sent her a thumbs-up. When she replied with a heart, I rolled over, closing my eyes again. Ryan was doing shows. I was cleaning rooms. When Bridget had predicted a different summer, she’d been onto something. Even if I’d never expected anything like this.
“Hungover?”
I looked at Trinity, who had just come in from the porch, still in her pajamas. “No,” I said. “Why?”
“You and Bailey were out pretty late,” she replied, picking up the bread from the counter.
“Jack came and took the boat,” I explained. “We had to walk back.”
“In my shoes?”
“I took them off first.” I nodded at the steps, where I had left them neatly lined up. “My feet were filthy.”
“Ugh. I bet.” She loaded the toaster and pushed down the lever. Then she leaned against the counter, her belly poking out in front of her. “So how was it?”
I shrugged. “Fine. We just hung out until Jack showed up and wanted the boat. The guys were nice.”
She scoffed at this, blowing her hair out of her face. “Let me guess. They’re both rich and in college.”
“Don’t know about rich,” I replied, although I didn’t doubt it. “But yeah, they’re roommates at East U.”
Another snort, although this time she saved me the commentary. A moment later—BING!—the toast popped up. After she quickly moved the slices to a plate, cursing at the heat on them, she said, “You want to work this morning?”
“Sure,” I replied.
She went to the fridge, collecting the butter, then came to the table to grab a knife. “We’ll start at nine sharp. Meet you over there?”
“Sounds good.”
She shuffled off, toast and butter balanced on the plate. I pulled over the paper Oxford had left behind and flipped to the obits. Just as I was about to start reading about Hazel Walker, aged 85, who had passed away surrounded by her loved ones, my phone beeped again. Blake.
At the docks today. You should come by.
So he’d gotten my number. Which meant that despite my nerves, I’d clearly made a good impression. Plus, he wasn’t bad to look at, and the kiss (my first!) had been nice while it lasted. Maybe I just needed to give this a chance.
Have to work. Will try, I wrote back. A beat later, he sent me a smiley face. A redhead. Cute.
“Morning.”
I jumped, startled to find myself there in my seat at the table, the obit for Hazel Walker still unread in front of me and Jack crossing the kitchen to the toaster.
“Hey,” I said in return.
He loaded up some bread before coming over to sit. “Obituaries, huh?” he asked. “Kind of a morbid way to start the day, isn’t it?”
“Death is no joke,” I pointed out.
He smiled, a bit ruefully. “I did say that, didn’t I?”
“Among other things.”
A sigh, and then he ran a hand over his hair. “Well, it’s the truth. I was in the right, whether she sees it that way or not.”
To this I said nothing, focusing again on Hazel as I took another bite of my toast.
“Okay, fine.” He sighed. “I was in the right but might have handled it a bit more diplomatically.”
“A bit?” I asked.
“How pissed was she, really?”
I looked up at him. “On a scale of one to ten? Twelve.”
BING! went the toaster. He got up, plucking out the slices and dropping them onto a plate, then went to the fridge. “Where’s the butter?”
“Trinity took it.” I pointed. “The porch.”
He glanced down the hallway, then came back to the table. Picking up a piece of toast, he said, “What about you?”
I swallowed. “What about me?”
“How pissed are you?” he replied. “At me.”
Surprised he’d care either way, I was nonetheless truthful. “Not at all. It was a nice walk.”
“Except for Bailey being at a twelve.”
“Well, there was that,” I agreed. “She cooled down after a mile or so, though.”
He sighed again. Then, nodding at the paper, he said, “One more question and I’ll leave you to your death notices.”
“Shoot.”
“How much is she really into this yacht club guy?”
I thought of Bailey’s face the night before, streaked with tears, as we made our way down the middle of the empty road that led home.
“I think it was pretty obvious,” I said finally. “Don’t you?”
Jack bit his lip, and for a second I could see just what he must have looked like as a little kid, getting caught for something and instantly sorry. Just as quickly, though, he was getting to his feet, taking his breakfast to go. “Tell her the boat needs gas,” he said over his shoulder as he dropped his glass in the sink. “Not sure she realizes.”
I nodded, and then he was gone, down the hallway to the door. As he went to push it open, I saw him pause, glancing at the entryway to the living room and porch beyond where Bailey was still sleeping. I thought he might go to her or say something. No. He did, however, ease the door shut slowly behind him, so for once it didn’t slam.
Ten
I was working in room three that morning, while Trinity tackled four, her vacuum banging against the wall separating us. I
’d just started changing the sheets when Roo passed by, carrying a ladder.
The walkie-talkie was stuck in his back pocket again, and he was whistling cheerfully, as he passed room four, then five, before finally stopping in front of six to set up the ladder. I watched, silent, until he started to climb it. Then I couldn’t help myself.
“Be careful!” I yelled, realizing too late I’d startled him. Whoops. “You need a ladder buddy.”
He just looked at me. “A what?”
“A ladder buddy. So you don’t fall.” God, I was such a dork. I put down my spray bottle, walking toward him. “You know, to hold it. My dad . . . he has this rule.”
That was putting it mildly. If my mom had been one to throw caution to the wind, my dad had always held it close and tight. We walked with scissors. At even the smallest intersection we looked both ways. Twice. And when it came to ladders, you never went up alone.
“Ladder buddy?” Roo repeated. He looked amused. “I have never heard of that in my life.”
“Maybe it’s a dentist thing,” I suggested, assuming my normal position on the other side of the ladder, both hands gripping it tight. “Okay, you’re good. Go ahead.”
“You’re going to stop me from falling?”
“No,” I replied, a bit huffily, “but I will keep the ladder from collapsing underneath you, which would pitch you off to your death.”
“Death?”
“I’m a Payne,” I explained. “We’re a careful people.”
He considered this, and me, before saying, “Well, I’m a Price. We’re mostly known for sticking our fingers into light sockets.”
“All the more reason to make safety a habit,” I said. He snorted. “Just climb, would you?”
He laughed. “Okay, buddy.”
Up he went, while I, still gripping, contemplated when I’d escape the long shadow of my father’s safety practices. Not yet, apparently. As Roo pulled his phone from his pocket, I said, “What are you doing, exactly?”
“Mimi needs some roof work done, so Silas sent me down to grab shots of what needs repairing,” he replied, snapping one photo, then another. The ladder wobbled, and I gripped it harder.
“I thought Silas and Celeste were divorced,” I said.
“Twice,” he replied, lifting one foot to scratch it. “But he’s still family to Mimi. They take care of each other.”
“Both feet on the ladder, please,” I said before I could even stop myself.
He turned, peering down at me again. “You really are nervous about this, aren’t you?”
“I told you,” I replied. “It’s genetic.”
“Maybe,” he said, examining a shot he’d already taken on his screen, “but you are also part Calvander. And they leap off ladders. For fun.”
“Are you done?”
“Not yet,” he said cheerfully, turning the phone to landscape mode. He looked down at me. “Question: Does it make you nervous when I do this?”
Gingerly, he jumped on the ladder step once. Then twice. With both feet.
“You stop that,” I said in my sternest voice.
“What about this?” He widened his eyes, then dangled one leg off entirely. “Oopsie!”
“Roo. Just—”
“Boy!” Oxford bellowed from the porch of the main house. I jumped where I was standing. “Don’t you be acting a fool on that damn ladder, you want to crack your head open?”
Roo pulled all his limbs back on, quick, as I laughed out loud. Then he looked at me. “Some buddy you are,” he said. “What happened to support?”
“I’m supporting!” I said. “You’re the one acting a fool.”
BEEP, went the walkie suddenly. “Rubber Duck! You got the keys to the prize case? Someone just hit the jackpot on the bonus tickets and they’re getting antsy.”
“On my way,” Roo replied, taking his hands back. He signed off with a beep, then looked at me. “Duty calls. Thanks for the support, buddy.”
“You’re welcome,” I said.
“Saylor!” I turned to see Trinity, in the doorway of room four with the vacuum. “Are we working or are we flirting?”
My face went red-hot, but Roo just laughed. “Some buddy you are,” I said. “What happened to support?”
“I’m supporting,” he said, folding up the ladder. “You’re the one flirting.” Then he grinned at me, stuck it under his arm, and started toward the office. Again my face was flushed. But for different reasons, now.
“Now, what I want us all to do is to breathe together,” Kim, the leader of the birthing class, was saying from the front of the room. “Okay? Inhale on three. One, two, THREE.”
I drew in a shallow breath, not sure how me doing this would actually help this process. Trinity, who was leaning back against me, sucked in enough for both our lungs, before letting it go when instructed with a whoosh that blew her bangs sideways. Impressive.
“When the baby comes,” Kim was saying now, “there will be moments to push and moments to rest. But no matter what, you want to be breathing.”
“Seems like a good rule for anytime, really,” I muttered.
“Hush.” Trinity shifted her position, elbowing me in my stomach in the process. “You’re supposed to be the Sergeant, remember?”
“He doesn’t make jokes?” I asked.
“Not stupid ones, no.”
Originally it was Celeste who had been Trinity’s partner, as the Sergeant’s delayed homecoming meant he wasn’t around when the birthing classes began in early June. But then Celeste’s boss at the grocery had quit, so she’d had to take over running everything, and Mimi stepped in. With the season beginning and the hotel still down a housekeeper, though, soon she too had her hands full. The only other ones with free time were me and Oxford, who claimed he’d faint at even the mention of the word uterus, much less a whole class about its capabilities.
So here I was, in the partner position, breathing and reassuring and watching incredibly disturbing birth videos that I could not forget despite really, really trying. If all went well, the Sergeant would be home by the end of July, in time for the birth itself, if not the last few classes. I didn’t know him at all, but I was still pretty sure he’d be better at it than I was.
Until then, though, it was my job to tote the nursing pillow, water bottle, and pad that Trinity used to jot down notes. She was so big it was all she could do just to drive us there and walk in, and that day, she’d decided maybe she couldn’t even manage that.
“You drive,” she’d said as we’d come out to Mimi’s Toyota, parked by the Calvander’s office. “It’s just too hard for me these days.”
I hesitated. “I can’t.”
Already at the passenger door, she glanced over at me. “You don’t have a license?”
Lie, I told myself. But out loud I said, “No, I do.”
“Great,” she said, starting to ease herself into the seat. It was a multiphase process: backing in her rear end first, then a pivot to a sitting position, followed by pulling in her legs. When she finished and I still hadn’t moved, she said, “What’s the problem?”
“I don’t like to drive,” I said, or rather blurted. “It makes me nervous.”
“Nervous?” she repeated. “This is North Lake. We’ll be lucky if we even pass another car.”
“I know,” I said. “But I’ve never liked it, and then I backed into a car in the parking deck—”
“That happens to everyone,” she replied, shifting to get both feet more in the center of her floor mat. “Rite of passage. Now get in, we’re going to be late.”
She shut her door. I stayed where I was. A moment later, she rolled down the window. “Are you serious about this?”
“I don’t like driving,” I said again.
“Well, I don’t like that my fiancé isn’t here for birthing class, but I’m doing it anyway,” she replied. “You have your license on you?”
“Yeah.”
“Then come on.” She tossed the keys into the driver�
�s seat. “If I can get in the goddamn car at my size, you can do this.”
I wasn’t sure what it was about Trinity, exactly, that caused me to find myself doing things I normally thought impossible. Maybe that it wasn’t her faith in me as much as her frustration. She just had no time for my neurosis, which made me wonder if maybe that was an option for me, as well.
I walked over and pulled open the driver’s-side door. “I’m going to be nervous.”
“Great. You’ll drive carefully. Let’s go.”
She pulled out her phone as I picked up the keys, and then I slid behind the wheel. It felt weird, and I wished I was in her seat, where the view was familiar. I was trying to figure out another way to get her to switch with me when she took a pointed view at the clock on the console.
It’s North Lake, I thought. We’ll be lucky if we even see another car. I put the key in and turned it.
She was partially right. After we turned out of Calvander’s—a Payne, I looked left, right, then left again, and would have done another round of this if she hadn’t sighed, loudly—we were the only ones on the road for a good ten minutes. Then, though, we came up on construction and a row of cars backed up as a bored flagman held up a sign that said STOP. With people suddenly ahead of and behind me, I felt my palms begin to sweat against the wheel.
“The thing is,” Trinity, who’d spent the entire trip so far detailing various grudges she had with the army, her pregnant body, and the world in general, was saying, “this isn’t the way I would have done this, given the chance. No one wants to be knocked up before the wedding, you know?”
I nodded, realizing I was clenching my teeth. The flag guy, bored, was looking at his phone.
“But it is what it is, and I am,” she continued, rubbing a hand over her stomach. “And honestly, I just want the Sergeant here when the baby comes. Even if he shows up literally the night before my water breaks. It’s one thing to be pregnant alone. I don’t want to start my life as a parent that way, too.”