The Oysterville Sewing Circle

by Susan Wiggs

  A big kid pushed into their midst. It was Rona’s boyfriend, Hakon, who inserted himself between them and nudged Will on the shoulder.

  “Jeez, Hakon,” Rona exclaimed, stepping back. “What the hell?”

  Caroline stopped breathing. Hakon was a big deal on the high school football team, and he had a reputation as a hothead.

  “Nothing,” said Hakon, keeping his eyes on Will. “Just wondering what’s up with the kid in the pansy-ass shirt.”

  Will didn’t flinch as he gazed calmly at the bigger boy. “It’s a shirt, is all.”

  “Makes you look like a pansy.”

  “Gimme a break.” Will tried to brush past him.

  Hakon stood in his path, planting himself like an old-growth tree—wide and immovable. “Not so fast, pretty boy.”

  Will laughed—a genuine laugh. “You’re kidding, right? ‘Pretty boy’?”

  “I’ll mess you up, pretty boy,” Hakon said.

  “Come on,” Rona said, taking hold of his arm. “Let’s go get something to eat.”

  Hakon shook her off, the sudden movement both startling and disturbing.

  Will dropped the good-humored facade. “Hey, I don’t know you, man. I don’t know why you’re ticked off at me. Whatever it is, get over it. I’m going to walk away now.”

  Good for you, Caroline thought. He’d once told her the best defense is to not get in a fight at all.

  Hakon didn’t seem to get it, though. “Yeah? Gonna run to your mama?” Hakon feinted to one side, nudging Will’s shoulder.

  Caroline took in her breath with a gasp. Rona receded back into her group of friends, all her flirty confidence dissolving.

  Will quickly stepped away. When Hakon followed him again, he said what was probably the one thing that would make Will forget his no-fighting rule. “Yeah, go run to your mama. She’s probably giving hand jobs out behind the tav—”

  Will struck like a bolt of lightning, so quick that Caroline nearly missed it. Hakon was suddenly flat on his back and Will was above him, forearm pressed against the bigger boy’s neck. Hakon’s face was bright red, and his eyes bulged with panic.

  More kids came running, forming a small crowd. Caroline was close enough to hear Will say, “I’m going to walk away now. Don’t be stupid.” And with that, he got up and turned away, walking toward the banquet tables without looking back.

  Hakon scrambled up, his face still the color of a tomato, his chest heaving. He made a move to follow, but then checked himself.

  “Come on,” Rona said. “Let it go.”

  He waved her away with a violent motion of his arm. At the same moment, he pivoted and walked in the opposite direction from Will.

  For the third time, Caroline had to remind herself to breathe.

  Mom woke Caroline and Virginia early one morning in late August. She almost never did this, because Virginia had been working dinner service and was allowed to sleep in. So when Mom came into their room and whispered their names, Caroline knew something was up.

  The morning light through the dormer window made Mom look haggard and distressed. Georgia slipped in behind her and got into bed with Caroline.

  “What’s wrong?” Virginia asked, her voice raspy with dread.

  “It’s Wendell,” said Mom. “He left us last night. Died in his sleep.”

  No.

  Wendell.

  Caroline felt as if everything inside her emptied out completely, an invisible pool of shock at her feet. And then, with the next breath she took in, she filled up with the worst hurt she’d ever felt. Pulling her knees up to her chest, she stretched her nightgown over them and hugged herself tight.

  Wendell. Poor old Wendell. Her good, good boy Wendell. That dog had been part of her life every single day she’d been in the world, because her parents had rescued the little guy as a puppy a month before she was born.

  And now he was gone. Forever. She’d never again hear his funny bark or feel his scruffy warm fur. She’d never feed him salmonberries from her hand or whisper her troubles into his little floppy ear.

  Elsewhere in the house, she could hear her brothers wailing. Apparently Dad was breaking the news to them.

  “What happened?” Virginia asked between hiccupping sobs. “Did he get sick?”

  Georgia buried her face in her arms.

  “He was following me around the yard yesterday,” Caroline whispered, her throat on fire with grief. “He bothered the chickens, same as he always does.”

  Mom nodded and blew her nose in a tissue. “Dad heard him wheezing in the middle of the night, you know, how he started doing lately. Last night, the wheezing didn’t stop, so we just held him close until he was gone.”

  “Why didn’t you wake me?” Caroline said, pushing the words out past the tears. “I never got to say goodbye.”

  “Dad and I were too sad to do anything but hold him,” Mom said. “We wanted to let him go in peace. I’m so, so sorry, my girls.”

  “Where is he?” Caroline demanded.

  “He’s on his bed in the laundry room, wrapped in his plaid blanket.”

  Caroline finally knew what a breaking heart felt like. It was the worst thing ever. The walls of the room felt heavy and close. She jumped out of bed and yanked on a pair of shorts and a T-shirt. “I’m going for a bike ride,” she said.

  “Be careful, sweetie,” said Mom. “Wear your helmet.”

  On her way out the door, Caroline stopped at Wendell’s bed. The unmoving pile of blankets with a swatch of fur peeking out shattered her into a million pieces. She knelt down and put out her hand. The absence of warmth or response of any sort made the emptiness yawn wider. “Oh, Wendell,” she said. “You’ll always be my first best friend. Bye, my good, good boy.”

  She ran outside and jumped on her bike, riding as fast and hard as she could—so fast her breath came in great gasping sobs. She took the winding trail up to North Head lighthouse, pushing herself to the top in record time. This early in the morning, there were only a few hikers milling around.

  She ditched her bike by the safety fence and slipped through to the other side, passing the coast guard warning sign. Skirting the eroding rocky slope, she made her way to an outcropping that reached toward the exploding shoreline. The surf was big today, the white waves throwing spray high into the air, and it suited her mood to just sit there and cry and think of all the ways she would miss Wendell. He was silly and full of mischief and completely useless for anything other than cuddling and entertainment. He had yucky breath and sandy paws, and when he was wet, he shook all over everything.

  And he was the best dog in the world, the best dog that had ever lived, and she didn’t know how she would go on without him.

  She sat on the rock ledge for a long time, damp and shivering from the spray, folding all the memories she could into her heart. At some point, she heard the crunch of footsteps on the path.

  Will sat down beside her and said, “I figured I’d find you here.”

  She couldn’t even look at him. She could only stare out at the horizon, hazy with the morning fog and blurred by her tears.

  “Your mom told me about Wendell,” he said. “I’m sorry.”

  His very soft and very kind I’m sorry released another flood of tears, and she didn’t even bother wiping them away. He put his hand on her shoulder. Then he scooted closer and slid his arm around her, and something burst inside her, causing her to melt into her grief. It all came out in a final rush of pain, lasting only seconds and then clearing like the marine layer before her.

  She fell completely still for about three beats of her heart as her rational mind stepped in. Will Jensen had his arm around her, and it gave her the most amazing feeling, so amazing that she felt disloyal to Wendell, because the feeling was even stronger than her sadness.

  She shifted a little and looped her hands around her drawn-up knees. “I never felt so sad about something in my life.”

  His arm slipped away, but he stayed close, his shoulder almost touchin
g hers. He stared out at the horizon. The rearing waves boomed and shattered against the rocks. “Yeah,” he said. “It sucks.”

  She dried her face on her sleeve. She’d done what her sisters called the “ugly cry”—the one that contorted her face and made it all red and blotchy. But Will didn’t seem to notice, and she didn’t care.

  “When your mom died, it must have felt ten times worse,” she said.

  He didn’t say anything for several moments. “Sad is sad.”

  She nodded, resting her chin on her knees. “I wish we could have them both back. I wish we could have them forever.”

  Something happened the day Wendell died. Something between Caroline and Will. They were the same together, running around, riding their bikes, spending long, lazy days at the beach, listening to music, and laughing at nothing. But that morning, when he found her alone and so sad, a seismic shift occurred. It felt as if she and Will knew each other in a different way.

  They never discussed that moment together, but she thought about it constantly.

  She went to bed each night thinking of him, and he was her first thought on waking in the morning. Every vision she had of her life included him. He talked about living at Water’s Edge when he grew up, and she considered what that might be like, instead of Milan or Hong Kong.

  She constantly pictured what he was doing at any given moment. She noticed things like the way he rolled his sleeves back when he wore his work uniform at the ice cream parlor. Or how he whistled tunelessly between his teeth when he was doing something like waxing his surfboard. Each time she saw him, she got butterflies in her stomach.

  She didn’t understand the feelings inside her. It was an entirely unfamiliar set of emotions, ones she didn’t even have a name for. Not happiness or sadness, but a wild combination of everything and more. He seemed like somebody she had known all her life, and at the same time, he seemed like someone completely new to her.

  It was all so confusing that she kept her thoughts entirely to herself. If she said something, he’d probably look at her with a quirked brow and tell her she was nuts.

  On the last night of summer, after the Rotary picnic, she found him helping with the cleanup detail. Sunset had deepened into twilight, and the almost-full moon was on the rise. Will was hauling one of the recycling bins on a hand truck toward the beach parking lot.

  “Hey,” she said, falling in step with him. A flock of butterflies stirred in her stomach.

  “Hey.”

  “So you’re flying home tomorrow,” she said unnecessarily.

  “I am.” He slid the bin off the hand truck and lined it up with the other ones. “Leaving first thing in the morning for the airport.”

  “Okay, then.” She glanced around the parking lot. People were heading to their cars, parents carrying sleepy toddlers, kids dragging their beach toys and towels. “Is your dad giving you a ride home tonight?”

  Will shook his head quickly. “I have my bike.”

  “Me too,” she said. “Hey, we could ride as far as my house together. I mean, if that’s—”

  “Sure,” he said. “Good idea. Let’s go.”

  The moon, fully risen now, illuminated the deserted road, augmenting the light from their bike headlamps. Invisible frogs sang and fell silent in a constant chorus from the marshes. The ride to her house seemed way too fast, and even though she talked the whole time, she felt as if there was so much more to say. They stopped at the end of her driveway, marked by the homemade mailbox embedded with shells and sea glass.

  She stopped there and got off her bike, and he did the same. Normally, Wendell would notice and come running down the drive, barking his fool head off. The silence now was a painful reminder of just how gone he was.

  “Guess I’ll see you when you come back next summer, right?” she asked Will, unclipping her helmet and hanging it on the handlebar. Her stomach was in knots. She already missed him.

  “Right,” he said. “I love coming here. Wish I could stay year-round.”

  “It’s really different in the winter. Super dark. Storms nearly every day.”

  He hesitated, staring down at her, the moonlight soft on his face. “I can handle storms,” he said quietly. Then he, too, took off his bike helmet.

  She couldn’t stop staring at his mouth. “Okay,” she said, her voice soft with uncertainty.

  “Okay,” he repeated. “Guess it’s goodbye for now.” Then his hand touched hers and took hold. His other hand brushed the hair from her cheek.

  She was startled into motionless shock. In a flash of movement, he bent and touched his lips to hers. It was brief and sweet and a bit clumsy, the way their heads didn’t quite tilt at the same time. And the fireworks inside nearly knocked her over.

  “Bye,” he said, taking a step back. He took another step back and stumbled a little, then laughed at himself. “See you next year.”

  She was too dumbstruck to reply, so she just stood there like a statue as he put his helmet on and rode away into the night. She watched until the shadows swallowed him and the glow from his headlight disappeared.

  Then she floated to the house, not feeling the ground beneath her feet.

  Will Jensen had kissed her.

  Will Jensen had kissed her.

  Will Jensen had kissed her.

  The world would never be the same.

  And in that moment she knew, she just knew, that he would always be a part of her life, no matter what. They would always be friends, sharing everything, even if they were apart when he went away during the school year. He promised he would always come back, every summer. Their friendship would never change. Nothing—and no one—would come between them.

  Chapter 17

  At the start of the school year, while Caroline was fidgeting in church and contemplating the perils of the next grade, a miracle occurred. Not that kind of miracle, but the kind that made going back to school bearable.

  Oceanside Congregational Church got a new pastor. He wasn’t the miracle, either. His daughter, Sierra, was. Caroline took one look at Sierra Moore and knew they were going to be best friends. They were the same age, and according to the church bulletin that had arrived in the mail with a story about the new pastor and his family, Sierra was in her grade.

  When Sierra and her parents stood to be introduced to the congregation, a palpable murmur rippled like a gust of fresh air through the rows of pews. Sierra was what Caroline’s sisters would call drop-dead gorgeous. She had incredible red hair, pale skin, and ruby red lips. She had poise, too, regarding the sanctuary with a calm gaze and a slight smile. She was really tall, too, with model-perfect proportions—narrow hips and straight posture—and an actual sense of style. This was rare among the girls Caroline knew. Most of them stuck to cheap, trendy stuff from the discount stores. By contrast, Sierra was wearing a designer dress, low-heeled sandals that matched her belt—but not too perfectly—and a touch of makeup. Makeup. In church. It was like seeing a unicorn—thrilling and rare.

  They were going to be best friends. Caroline just knew it.

  She wasted no time getting to know the new girl. The moment services ended, she made a beeline to Sierra’s side. Mr. and Mrs. Moore were standing near the coffee service, greeting parishioners like a pair of royals, which in a small town they kind of were. Sierra stood slightly apart, one hand resting on a perfect little clutch bag on a gold chain, the other holding a bottle of water. A few of the boys were already edging close, checking her out, but in that dorky boy way, shoving and punching one another and snickering. Like that was going to impress her.

  “I’m Caroline,” she said, elbowing past Kevin Pilcher, who was rolling up his shirt to demonstrate an armpit fart. “Don’t mind those guys. They’re idiots. I’m not. And we’re going to be in the same grade. Probably even the same homeroom—M through Z. I really like your outfit.” Stop babbling, Caroline told herself. Take a breath.

  Sierra’s gaze was guarded for about two seconds. Then she smiled. “Thanks. I like yours,
too. That’s a really cool skirt.”

  Caroline stood up a little straighter. “I made it.”

  A frown quirked Sierra’s brow. “You mean, like, you sewed it?”

  “Yep. I sew all the time, all kinds of things, mostly my own designs.”

  “No way.”

  “Way.”

  “That is seriously impressive. I love clothes so much, but I wouldn’t know the first thing about making them.”

  “I’m still learning myself. Maybe one of these days we could design something together.”

  Sierra beamed, her expression brighter than the sun. “How about we do everything together?”

  Caroline grinned at her. “It’s a deal.”

  That was pretty much what they did, starting that very day. Caroline introduced Sierra to her friends and family, showing her the charms and foibles of small-town life. Sierra had grown up in Southern California, so moving to the Washington coast was a big change for her. Caroline was intrigued by Sierra’s life—the only child, adored and indulged by attentive parents.

  “Being a one-and-done is not all it’s cracked up to be,” Sierra often declared when Caroline expressed envy. “When I get in trouble, there’s never anyone else to blame.”

  “If you don’t have brothers and sisters,” Caroline would point out, “there are fewer ways to get in trouble.”

  “But more people to blame,” Sierra countered.

  The first week of school was a whirlwind of trying to figure out schedules and lockers and extracurricular activities. Caroline, of course, picked Sewing Circle, which Lindy Bloom had organized. Rona Stevens tried to convince Sierra to try out for JV cheerleading. Apparently it was clear even to Rona that Sierra was the most important new student in school that year. Caroline held her breath, praying Sierra wouldn’t go for it.

  “I’m not really any good at jumps and gymnastics,” Sierra confessed.

  “There are tons of cheers that are mostly clapping and rhythm,” Rona assured her.

  “I don’t know . . .”