by Karen White
Caroline took a long sip from her straw. When she thought she could speak again, she said, “No. It’s just that . . . well, I’m not the marrying kind. My mother says I’m married to my work. Maybe she’s right.” She almost sighed out loud in relief when she spotted Sidney carrying their lunch order to the table.
She ate quickly, not pausing between bites to make room for words. She couldn’t taste anything and she kept her head down, not wanting to see the identical expressions in two completely different pairs of eyes. And both expressions were telling her that neither one had believed a word.
CHAPTER 16
JEWEL SAT IN TRURO’S GREAT OUTDOORS SHOP AND WATCHED AS her dad and Caroline played tug-of-war without saying a word or touching anything. Her mom used to tell her that her dad had a real gift for making people talk—no matter how much they didn’t want to. That was why he’d been such a great lawyer. It was so obvious Caroline Collier wanted to be left alone, and the more she retreated to a corner, the more Jewel’s dad would hover like a bee over honey. If she didn’t know better, Jewel would have thought that the two of them were enjoying themselves.
Caroline slid the curtains across the rod in the dressing room for about the fifth time and stomped out wearing hiking boots, socks, and really short shorts, and barely resembling the woman who normally disguised herself in baggy T-shirts and jeans. Jewel’s dad sat up in his chair as they both watched Caroline tug at the hem of the shorts.
“You look totally hot,” Jewel said.
“What?”
Her dad cleared his throat. “I think she means that you should get those. All those pockets and belt loops are perfect for hiking.”
“Really? They’re not too short?”
“Absolutely not.” He cleared his throat again. “Did you find any shirts? You’ll want something to layer for cold mornings. And make sure you have a bathing suit top to wear underneath for when it gets warmer or you want to take a swim.”
She went still, and Jewel wondered if her dad had said that on purpose. She remembered seeing the scar on Caroline’s chest the night of the dinner party and knew Caroline would never let anybody see that scar if she could help it. But it seemed to her that the actual scar wasn’t what Caroline was hiding from other people. She had a distant hope that her dad wouldn’t figure that out. As her mom had once said after watching her dad win a case, he could question somebody until they felt like they were lying naked under a microscope. Jewel couldn’t help but think that would be the one thing Caroline Collier wouldn’t be able to handle.
“I’ll take the shorts and the boots—that’s all I need.” She turned back to the dressing room and slid the curtain back.
A few minutes later they stood together at the cash register as Jewel and her dad watched Caroline pull the money from her wallet. Every bill was flattened and facing the same direction, the denominations organized from lowest to highest.
Her dad leaned down and whispered loudly in her ear, “She’s an accountant.”
Caroline glared at him.
He responded by plucking a fuchsia sun visor off a nearby rack. “You might want one of these, too, in case you forget your sunscreen.”
She looked at him for a long moment with a straight face before taking the visor and tossing it on the counter.
She paid for her items; then they left the store together. “So I guess this means we’re all set for tomorrow, right?” At Caroline’s nod, he continued. “I’d love to hike all the way up to Ophelia, if that’s not too far for you. I stare at her every day, and I’m feeling that it’s long past time I introduced myself.”
Jewel’s dad placed the clothes bag in the back of the truck before they all climbed in, Jewel in the middle. Caroline said, “It’s been a long time since I climbed all the way up, but I’m pretty sure I still remember how to get there. It’s an easy climb, with well-marked wide paths.”
Her dad grinned in a way Jewel hadn’t seen since her mother died. “Is it anywhere near that cliff you were telling me about where people fall off all the time?” He turned the key and started the engine with a loud hum.
“No. But I can certainly take you that way.”
Jewel noticed Caroline’s lips lifting before she turned away.
Her dad edged the truck out into the road. “No, that’s all right. Another time, maybe.”
Jewel sat back in her seat, enjoying the soothing rumble of the engine. She stared at the ceiling, spotting patterns on the neutral material that nobody else would. She could almost make out the profile of a woman staring out into a sea of beige car ceiling. “Who was Ophelia?”
Caroline shifted in her seat and shrugged. “Nobody knows for sure if she was even a real person. But, if she lived, it would have been about two hundred years ago.”
“But what did she do that was so bad to have her cursed?”
Her dad looked at her with a frown, as if wondering where she’d heard of the legend. She almost told him about the diary, but held back. It was as if the same voice that told her to keep the quilt folded in the trunk were also telling her that it wasn’t time for the diary to be known about, either.
She turned her head away from her father and pressed her cheek against the seat back, staring up at Caroline. Her hair had fallen out of its ponytail holder at the clothing store from slipping shirts on and off over her head, and Jewel had picked it off the floor and stuck it in her pocket. Caroline had great hair, and it was stupid to always keep it back in a ponytail.
Caroline began speaking as she fiddled with the strap of her seat belt. “I don’t remember the story.”
For the second time that morning, Jewel shared a look with her dad that pretty much said that they both thought what they were hearing could fertilize a cornfield. It was kind of fun realizing how much she and her dad seemed to see through Caroline—but not as much fun as watching her dad circling his prey. Her mom had always said that being around her dad kept people honest. She sneaked a look at Caroline and saw that she had turned her body to look out the window so that her back was practically facing them. Even she could read that body language. Whatever it was that Caroline Collier was trying to keep to herself, it didn’t have a chance around her dad. And maybe that wouldn’t be such a bad thing. From what Jewel could see, Caroline had more issues than National Geographic.
Her dad cleared his throat. “Well, as luck would have it, Shelby told me the story, and I seem to remember it pretty well. Seems that a young woman named Ophelia fell in love with a married man.” He raised his eyebrows at her and Caroline as if to make sure he had an audience before continuing. “She was crazy in love and made up her mind that he was the only man she would ever want, even though it was clear that she could never have him. See, they didn’t have divorces back then unless there were severe and extenuating circumstances. But Ophelia was an only daughter and had been spoiled by her parents since birth. She didn’t know the meaning of the word no because she’d never been taught. Once she had her heart set on something, that’s the way it would have to be.
“Anyway, the man must have loved her, too, because he petitioned the preacher and the judge for a divorce, saying his wife was a witch and that he wanted to marry a God-fearing woman like Ophelia.
“Now, two hundred years ago, you didn’t take calling somebody a witch too lightly. They hauled the wife into jail, and when she didn’t convince them otherwise, they burned her at the stake. But while she was up there being burned alive, she cursed Ophelia. She said that she was doomed never to have the one thing she wanted and that she would be turned to stone so that she would spend eternity wishing for something she could never have.”
Jewel swallowed. “Wow. That’s awesome. So what happened?”
Her dad continued. “The legend goes that the woman’s husband took ill that day from a fever and died less than a week later. And then Ophelia disappeared, never to be seen again. Some say she killed herself and the animals got to her body so that it was never found. But then a storm came, wi
ping away all the vegetation on Hart’s Peak. Soon after, people started noticing what looked like a face etched out on the stone, and everybody agreed that it must be Ophelia, turned to stone for all eternity, destined always to want what she could never have.”
Caroline had relaxed into her seat and turned to face Jewel and her dad. Softly she said, “Jude could never stand a story without a happy ending. He used to tell people that just before the man’s wife died on the stake, she caught a glimpse of the gates of hell. Afraid for her soul, she declared that through great pain and suffering Ophelia could reverse the curse and live again.” She paused. “But she must give up the one thing she wanted.”
Caroline shrugged, trying to appear relaxed, but Jewel could see her hands clenched into fists. “Doesn’t look like she ever did, because her face is still up there.” Smiling softly, she said, “Jude and I used to go look for her grave in the cemetery to see if a real person by that name ever existed. We never did.”
Jewel leaned forward and flipped on the radio, figuring they had all heard enough about scorned women and old legends. She hummed along with half-closed eyes, watching Caroline’s fingers accompanying the music on an invisible piano, playing notes that only she could hear.
March 21, 1990
Jude has come up for a spring visit by himself. Mrs. Collier is letting Caroline go to a swimming camp this year that’s run by the University of Georgia. It’s really hard to get in, and Caroline said that anybody hoping to get a swimming scholarship needs to go to this camp during spring break. Mrs. Collier surprised everybody by saying yes without a fight. Caroline says it’s because her mother wants to get rid of her for a week. Which is ridiculous, really. But maybe I was the only one who saw Mrs. Collier wipe her eyes when she told us last Christmas that Caroline had gotten into the camp. I think she’s damned proud of her. We all are, but for a mom I guess it’s different.
Instead of staying at his parents’ empty house, Jude’s staying here until his mom and dad come up in the next day or two. On the first night he brought his sleeping bag into my room like he always does and laid it on the floor, but my mother made him take it to the guest room. She said that now we are older, sleepovers in the same room aren’t appropriate anymore. I know Jude was as embarrassed as I was. Even after that time last summer when he held my hand while we were on the lake, I still tried not to think of Jude as a boy and me as a girl. We’re best friends, and I don’t want any of that to change.
But things are different. I guess things change whether you want them to or not. Like summer turning into fall. You’d have a hell of a time trying to put all the leaves back on the trees, so you might as well enjoy watching them fall before you make a huge pile to jump in. You still love the leaves, but in a different way. I suppose that’s how I look at how I feel about Jude. When I was a little girl, I loved him like I loved my teddy bear and my favorite shoes and my collection of shells I’d found on my trips to the beach. But now that I’m older, he has become so much more to me. I need him in my life like the ocean needs the moon to shift her tides.
Last night we went for a long walk around the lake. We started right after supper when it was still light out, but by the time we’d made it halfway around, the sun seemed to melt into the most beautiful pink sky. That’s when Jude kissed me. He surprised me at first because we hadn’t even been holding hands. But when his lips touched mine, the pink of the sky seemed to sparkle in my mind, and I knew what all those romance novels my mom reads mean by fireworks exploding. He made me forever his at that moment, and I don’t think I’ll ever look at the cotton-candy color of a sky on fire without thinking of him.
Caroline came home to find her mother sitting out on the deck drinking hot tea. The late-afternoon sun slanted across the backyard, lighting on her mother’s hair and turning it from blond to gray. Caroline paused by the quilting table overlooking the picture window, the solitude of her bedroom pulling at her. But something in the slope of her mother’s shoulders and the way her hands looked so frail against the china teacup made her move to the back door.
Margaret tipped her head. “I was wondering if you’d come join me.” She smiled before reaching for her sweater draped around the back of the chair. It slipped to the ground and Caroline stooped to pick it up, staring into her mother’s face as she did. The wrinkles appeared deeper out here, showing a woman who’d lived her sixty-six years.
She settled the sweater around her mother’s shoulders; she felt how thin and vulnerable they felt and wondered how such an old lady could be her mother. Unexpectedly, Margaret set her hand on Caroline’s. “I’m glad you came out.”
Caroline dropped into a nearby seat, letting her shopping bag slide to the ground.
“What’s all this?” Her mother eyed the bag with speculation.
“Oh, I did a little shopping in town today with Jewel and bought a few things.”
“With Jewel, hmm? And who drove?”
Caroline dug into the shopping bag to hide her face, feeling the heat steal into her cheeks. She wasn’t quite sure why, but she did know that she didn’t want her mother drawing the wrong conclusions. “Drew did. I didn’t argue because I’m trying to be nice to him—as tough as that is. He’s probably the most annoying person I’ve ever met. But my company could make a fortune licensing his furniture designs.”
“So how did it go?”
“How did what go?”
“Being nice to him.”
“Oh. That. Well, it’s a lot harder than I thought it would be. I’ll try again tomorrow.”
She thought she saw her mother smile as she dipped her head to take a sip from her tea. “I wouldn’t think it would be that hard to be nice to a guy who looks like that.”
“You think he’s good-looking? I hadn’t noticed.” She took out the pair of shorts. “I got these and a pair of hiking boots.”
“They’re pretty short. Good for you. I always said you had a great pair of legs. Don’t know why you always insist on hiding them.”
Caroline stared at her mother. “You never said that—at least not to me, anyway.”
Her mom tilted her head again, as if studying a puzzle she’d put all the pieces in but didn’t recognize the picture. “No, maybe I didn’t. I probably figured that if I told you, you’d hide them in long skirts or baggy pants.” She smiled softly and stared out toward the setting sun drifting over the lake. “Do you remember the time you were in that horrible bike accident with Jude and Shelby? I was so afraid you’d scarred your legs that I grabbed a bottle of that terrible red stuff—what was it called?”
“Merthiolate,” Caroline answered, unable to resist smiling back. “Yeah, I remember.”
“Back then you practically lived in your swimsuit. You with those long, perfect legs—you were gorgeous in and out of the water. And I couldn’t bear to think of you being embarrassed because of scarring.” She took another sip of her tea and turned to Caroline. “You tried so hard to be brave and not scream, but I know how that must have hurt. I was so proud of you—even though you didn’t speak to me for a week.”
Caroline sat in the silence, feeling a bit like she’d just caught the Tooth Fairy putting a dollar under her pillow. The money was nice to have, but she wasn’t sure she wanted to know who the Tooth Fairy really was.
“I never would have suspected. I always thought you did it so we wouldn’t die of infection.”
Her mother waved a dismissive hand through the air. “Nonsense. You three were so healthy, you could have fought off anything. As it was, I felt obligated to coat Jude with that vile stuff just so he wouldn’t feel left out.” She looked down into her teacup as if expecting it to give her an answer to something she hadn’t yet asked.
Caroline leaned forward until her mother met her eyes. “I always thought you’d done it to punish me for hurting Jude.”
Her mother’s eyes widened and glistened with unshed tears. “I could never have picked a favorite, Caroline. I thought . . . well, when you became an only chil
d, I thought things might be different.”
Caroline stood and faced the lake. “I guess I had too much evidence to the contrary to make me feel any different. Nothing really changed after Jude died—except for Daddy leaving.”
She didn’t hear her mother stand, but she knew it was her hand that rested gently on her shoulder. “You’re wrong, you know. It seemed to me that it became you and me against the world. Even if you didn’t need me, I needed you.”
The old hurt and disappointments kept Caroline from turning around. What do you mean, I didn’t need you? She felt herself stiffen, unbending like a giant oak in a storm. If it bent just a little, it made it easier to fall over. “I wanted us to be a family again—with a brother and father. But you sent Daddy away and I knew that nothing would ever be the way I wanted it.”
Her mother dropped her hand. “No, you’re right. Nothing could be. Jude was gone forever. But that didn’t mean that there wasn’t something else for us out there—something to help us make a new start. I still think there is.” Her voice trailed off into the late-afternoon sky.
Caroline looked up and saw the pale outline of the moon, waiting its turn behind the sun. Something in its frail loveliness made her want to cry. But she didn’t. She hadn’t cried in front of her mother since before Jude’s death and she knew it was too late now.
The sound of Margaret’s heels walking away made her turn around.
“I like the place mats you did—you left them out on the craft table and I couldn’t resist looking at them. You have such a gift for color and pattern. I think they’ll sell well.”
Caroline nodded, feeling oddly pleased. “Yeah, I like the way they turned out.” She stared long and hard at her mother. Even if you didn’t need me. The words tugged at her like an insistent child, and she tried to make sense of them. She wondered what it had cost her mother to admit to that, and felt an urge to try to meet her halfway.