The Hollow

by Jessica Verday

  Still chuckling, he gave me a quick wink. "Okay. We'll leavethe dishes here, and I'll take care of them when we get back. Race you out to the car."

  I piled up the dishes and headed to the sink, letting him have a head start, while telling myself that this was all for a good cause. Anything I had to do to stay on his good side was completely worth it. Even if it was bowling… with Dad… in public.

  Bowling went surprisingly well. There was only one other person in the far left lane, so we pretty much had the run of the place. We ended up playing three games, and Dad happily gloated about how he'd won two out of the three games, but graciously offered me a rematch.

  Much Chinese food was had, and enjoyed by both of us after that, and we decided to go back for a couple more rounds. It was almost six o'clock by the time we got home. I was pleasantly surprised at how cool Dad ended up being. It was actually a fun day. Not that I'd ever admit that to anyone, though.

  Mom was home, and had dinner waiting for us as we stepped in. I hungrily slurped down several bowls of steaming clam chowder and ate half a loaf of French bread along with it. I fell into bed a little later that night exhausted, but warm and full. It was a great feeling.

  * * *

  The next morning, however, did not feel as great, since it was still freezing out, and I had to force myself out of a cozy bed once again. It was Saturday, and I had a job to do.

  I yawned and rubbed my bleary eyes while Mom kept saying how she had things to do on the weekends too and they didn't involve being my personal taxicab, as she drove me to Uncle Bob's shop. But she changed her tune when I gladly reminded her that I could go get my license at anytime and drive myself around. Then she quickly agreed to drive me each weekend.

  I knew the license thing would work.

  Mom pulled up to Uncle Bob's with an abrupt stop and told me she'd be back to pick me up at five. I was dumped rather unceremoniously at the front door, and she drove off. I could have sworn I heard her tires squeal.

  Turning to face the shop, I pushed my way through the glass doors. Bells jingled softly overhead as I called out for Uncle Bob.

  "Back here," was his booming response, somewhere from the general vicinity of the office area. "I'm glad you came. Are you sure this is going to work for you? I know how you young kids want to spend time with your boyfriends and girlfriends on the weekends. I mean, that is, if you have a boyfriend. Do you… doyou have one of… those?"

  I rolled my eyes as I walked back to meet him. I was almost afraid to answer. God only knew where that would lead me. How could I explain my on-again, off-again relationship with Caspian? "No, Uncle Bob," I called back. "I don't have one of those."

  On Wednesday afternoon I found myself sitting cross-legged under the bridge, staring aimlessly into the water. Christmas was only two weeks away, and I didn't know what to get for Caspian.

  The crunch of gravel caught my attention, but I didn't have to look up. I knew who it was. A second later Caspian came over and sat down next to me, nodding his head in silent greeting. I nodded back. He didn't say anything, and I turned back to the water and my thoughts.

  He had a sketchpad in one hand and something skinny and black in the other, and I watched out of the corner of my eye as he started drawing on one of the pages.

  Frowning, he stopped drawing, shook his head, and rubbed a finger repeatedly over the page, causing a dark smear to bloom. He looked at it for a moment longer, then flipped to a new, fresh page and set his charcoal to work again.

  I abandoned all previous thinking and angled my body to watch him more closely, now completely caught up in what he was doing. It didn't take long for a tree, then a riverbank, and finally the wateritself to start taking form on the paper.

  His lean fingers flew across the page, and I watched in amazement as short, bold strokes took up residence next to long, smooth ones. Creating a scene that ebbed and flowed together, mirroring its true-life counterparts. It was beautiful to watch.

  "How did your first weekend at your new job go?" he asked me softly, never looking up from the paper. I couldn't stop staring at his hands. They were moving so fast, yet he never faltered. I wondered if the next time he touched me, would it be with confidence, or hesitance?

  "It went great," I said, trying to force my thoughts elsewhere. "All I did so far was open and sort all of my uncle's mail, but he had a ton of it. This weekend I'm going to set up a new filing system for him and show him how to use it." His hands kept moving. Shading now. Blending the edges of one harsh line into another.

  "Then the weekend after that I'll start compiling all his invoices and vendor information and make a database for them. He told me that eventually he wants me to completely take over the office end of his business. I sort of can't believe it."

  "I told you that you'd be great at it," he replied. "So, will your uncle be paying you with ice cream? Because I'm totally available if he wants to hire a second employee."

  I snorted. "No, he won't be paying me in ice cream, but I doget all the free samples I want. One of the perks of working there."

  I turned a delighted grin toward him, catching his eye for a brief second when he looked up. "And you know what else is cool? I spent Friday with my dad, talking some things over. Like school and stuff, and I told him about my plans for the shop. Get this: He actually took it well, and thought it was a great idea. He even offered to give me some start-up money if I finish my business plan!"

  He smiled. "See? I was completely right."

  "Yeah," I laughed. "Yeah, you were.,r

  Caspian resumed his sketching, and I turned back to the water. "You know," I said quietly, "it's actually kind of nice to be working at Uncle Bob's. Kristen and I had planned to get after-school jobs together this year, and I think she'd like the fact that I'm working there." Out of the corner of my eye I could see him nod his head.

  Then he asked, "Have you learned anything new about Kristen's secret boyfriend?"

  I picked up a small handful of pebbles, slowly shifting them from side to side in my palms. The unexpected thought of Kristen's diaries made me twitchy, and angry, and I needed something to distract myself with. "No, I haven't." I readjusted my legs and then tossed the pebbles into the water.

  "Tell me what I should do, Caspian," I said suddenly,desperately. Surprising even myself. "I don't know what to do. There's no one to ask, no way to get any answers. I don't know who this guy was, or how involved he might have been with what happened. What if he was there with her at the river that night? What if he could have saved her? What if he stood her up and she did something stupid and desperate? I'm not even sure that I want to know what happened anymore."

  I put my hands to the ground and pushed myself up to my feet. "But I need to know, Caspian. I need to know the answers to these questions."

  He just sat there. Working on his page.

  "Caspian?" Still no answer.

  I snapped my fingers as I called his name again. "Caspian! Tell me what I should do… please."

  He finally looked up. "I don't think you want me to tell you that," he said slowly.

  I waited impatiently, eyebrows raised, for him to continue. "Why not?" I prompted.

  "Because," he said, in that same slow tone, "you won't like it."

  "Please, tell me," I begged. "If I didn't want your advice, then I wouldn't have asked for it."

  His fingers stilled, and he looked at me. I could see a storm gathering in his eyes. "Do we have to do this, Abbey?" he asked fiercely. "Do you really want to go there? Why don't you just let itdrop, and we'll pretend this never happened. Just go back to the way things were, before we talked about any of this. I never should have brought it up." He trailed off, and it sounded like he was getting angry.

  Where the hell did that come from? I didn't think. The words just started flying out of my mouth. "Oh, no," I said very calmly, stewing in my anger. "Let's go there. Let's definitely go there. I'm a big girl. I can handle it. So tell me what it is you think I should do. Go on, te
ll me," I goaded.

  With a shake of his head he put the pad and piece of charcoal on the ground. "I don't want to do this, Abbey. I don't want to fight with you. Tell me what to say to make it all go away, and I will. Tell me what to do to make it better."

  I started pacing; I thought I'd wear a hole in the ground. I didn't want to do this either, but something was wrong with me. Some perverse part of my mind delighted in torturing myself. There was no turning back now. "Just tell me what you were going to say. Simple as that and this will all be over."

  He shook his head again and heaved a large sigh. His eyes found mine and locked into place as he stood up too. We faced each other, drawn to the heat of the moment. Our anger was large and deadly. Something that should not have been between us.

  "Okay, you win," he said simply. "You'll always win, Abbey. I didn't want to tell you what to do because I think that you shouldjust let it go. Allow Kristen to keep her secrets. Everyone has secrets, Abbey, even you, and some need to be protected more than others. Maybe this is one of those. Maybe your questions will never be answered, but I think you should let it stay that way. Are you happy now?" His shoulders sagged and he turned from me to face the river.

  I felt like I'd just been punched in the chest.

  "Let it go? You think I should just let it go? I can't do that, Caspian. She was my best friend, and I have a right to know. What if this secret boyfriend was involved? I can't just let that go, and you have no right to ask me to."

  I was breathing fast now, rage building up inside of me. And yet even as I said those bitter angry words, I wanted to take them back. To say "I'm sorry" and beg his forgiveness. To make him understand that it was Kristen, and myself, I was really mad at. Not him.

  But I didn't say those things, and the ugly words hung between us. I never was any good at small talk, or apologies.

  "I'm sorry, Abbey, but that's not your choice to make," he said. "You don't know if this guy is responsible for any of those things, and Kristen isn't here to tell you any differently. They were her secrets to tell… or keep. And she made her choice."

  My hands were shaking and I fought off the urge to cry. They weren't tears of sadness but tears of anger, and frustration. I hatedthe fact that if I gave in, it would make me look like a blubbering baby. "So first you want me to find out why Kristen went to the river, but then when I do, you tell me to let it go? I thought that you would support me in this, not go all…" Words failed me, and I didn't know what to say. "Well, like how you went. All non-supportive."

  I hated to finish that weakly, but I was too blindsided, too overwhelmed, to finish eloquently. I held up my hands to stop him from answering. "You know what?" I said tiredly. "Just don't. Don't answer that. Don't give me your opinion. Don't 'go there.' I can't deal with any more of this right now. I have to go. I'll-I'll see you later."

  I didn't give him a chance to speak, but I saw the sad look in his eyes. Turning away, I jammed my hands deep into my pockets. A small rock must have been left behind from when I'd picked them up, because as I shoved my fists into my jeans, I felt the sudden slice of a pebble's rough edge against my palm. Oddly, I didn't mind the dull ache. It was a welcome distraction from what I was leaving behind.

  And besides, it was nothing compared to the pain in my heart when I heard him whisper "I'm sorry, Astrid" as I walked away.

  Chapter Nineteen

  The Perfect Present

  Another of his sources of fearful pleasure was, to pass long winter evenings with the old Dutch wives… with a row of apples roasting and spluttering along the hearth, and listen to their marvellous tales of ahosts and aoblins…

  "The Legend of Sleepy Hollow"

  I cried myself to sleep over the next couple of days, and avoided the cemetery and river at all costs. I felt depressed, and awful, and sick at heart. Between this most recent fight and the earlier conversation on "taking it slow," things were not going very well for Caspian and me. The fact that it was almost Christmas made it ten times worse.

  Uncle Bob must have picked up on my mood, because he kept asking me if I was feeling okay while I set up the filing system for him. I told him that everything was fine, and I felt great, but I don't think he believed me. Not like I really blamed him, though. I was withdrawn and silent, with permanent purple bags under my eyes. Not exactly the picture of glowing health.

  I finally gave in to his persistent badgering and left early on Sunday afternoon. He insisted on paying me for a full day's work, and even threw in a Christmas bonus. I just tried not to cry, and gave him a big hug before meeting Mom outside. The crying thing was getting annoying, but it was happening a lot these days. Luckily, I managed to keep the blubbering to a minimum.

  Mom surprised me by stopping at the mall on the way home, saying that I was in dire need of some spontaneous seasonal shopping therapy. I strongly disagreed with her. The last place I wanted to be right now was in a crowded shopping center watching all the happy couples strolling by hand in hand sharing Christmas cheer with each other.

  Yeah, I definitely wasn't in the mood for that.

  But Mom has always been a brilliant tactician, and she wore me down with promises of free food and new shoes. As we pushed our way through the revolving doors, she made a beeline for the food court, and snagged us some fresh cinnamon rolls and steaming hot chocolate.

  As I willingly munched away, I couldn't help but think that Mom should have been a war general or something. She had totally missed her calling. Leaving no room for doubt, she herded me to the shoe store, and, unwittingly, I found myself the new owner of the cutest pair of brown boots.

  Damn it, she was good.

  We walked past bell ringers, present wrappers, and Christmas carolers dressed in old-fashioned costumes. From time to time we'd stop in and check out a store, but mostly I was just browsing. We even saw Santa and one very tall, very bored-looking elf, but we thought better of stopping. After we came to the pet store window display and spent a sufficient amount of time ogling the baby kittens, Mom and I decided to split up for a while, and we each went our separate ways.

  It didn't take me long to find a new laptop carrying case for her Christmas present, and an electronic baseball trivia thingamajig for Dad. I didn't really have any idea what to get for the Maxwells, and nothing jumped out at me as I continued to look around, so Idecided to wait and give their gift some more thought.

  As far as Caspian went… I still didn't know what to do there.

  On the one hand, I didn't even know if we were still talking, let alone whatever we were boyfriend-girlfriend-wise. But on the other hand, it just didn't feel right to not get him anything for Christmas. I had to be able to find some small gift to give him.

  I trekked across the mall and ended up in a sports store, an electronics store, and even a men's clothing store along the way, but still didn't find anything. When I started to seriously eye up tube socks while wondering if I could get them gift wrapped, I knew it was time to stop.

  Lugging my bags back to the food court, I stopped to get another hot chocolate before finding a bench. For a while I just sat there at the edge of the crowd and watched the throng of people go by while I blew gently on my drink.

  Just as I was taking a tester sip and checking my cell phone to see how much time I had left before I had to meet Mom, someone plopped down next to me. I jerked in surprise, and tried to hold on to the Styrofoam cup. My bags jostled against my legs and I turned, ready to give whoever had sat down an earful.

  Mrs. Maxwell sat there, frowning slightly. "I'm sorry, dear; I thought you saw me coming. I never would have snuck up on you if I knew that hot drink was in your hand."

  "Not a problem." I tried to casually wave it off, but the drinkwas still in my grasp. So I took a sip. "How have you guys been? I haven't seen you in a while. Did you get some Christmas shopping done?" I noticed her lack of bags and mentally kicked myself. She had one less person to buy for this year, and I had probably just reminded her of that.

  "M
ostly window-shopping today," she replied. "I haven't bought anything yet since, well, you know. Things will be different this year."

  I busied myself with my drink again, and we fell into an awkward silence.

  "So… can you believe we got snow already? I hope it's a white Christmas this year." It was lame to talk about the weather, but unfortunately, it was all I had.

  "I know," she said. "The snow is so beautiful. I hope it's a white Christmas too. But just snow, not ice. I hate ice."

  Sipping slowly, I looked around me, nodding in agreement. Will it always be this awkward between us? Kristen's mom had been like a second mother to me, but now it was like we were only the barest of acquaintances. A death could change so many things for so many people. It was heartbreaking.

  "Are you going to the New Year's party at the museum?" I asked, hoping that was safer territory.

  She shook her head. "I don't think so. We'll probably just stay home this year and keep things quiet. It's for the best."

  A sad look crossed her face, and I could tell she was fighting not to cry. I placed my almost empty cup on the ground next to me and reached for her hand. "I know this Christmas will be difficult for you. Losing Kristen was like losing a limb, and I can especially feel your pain. It's going to be hard on all of us." I took a deep breath, and vowed then and there never to tell Kristen's mom about the diaries. She didn't need that hanging over her head.

  "I'll see you guys at our house for Christmas dinner, though, right? You can't skip that. And you know someone has to help me eat all those dozens of cookies Mom will inevitably make in a fit of madness. You don't want to leave me alone in that, do you? I'll end up gaining, like, fifty pounds, and then I'll definitely be mad at you guys when I'm forced to buy all new clothes."

  She laughed and squeezed my hand. "Your mother does whip herself up into quite a cookie frenzy every year. I guess it wouldn't be fair to leave you alone in that misery."

  I heaved a large sigh. "You do understand. Thank you for taking pity on me and my poor waistline."