Summer Friends

by Holly Chamberlin

  “Hey,” Kitty said. “Can we still go to the Sea Dogs game?” She looked tired, Delphine thought. And a little bit scared.

  “I don’t know,” Delphine answered honestly. “We’ll have to see what the doctor says. If we can’t go this summer we’ll go next summer for sure. Okay?”

  “Promise?”

  “Promise. I’ll even do a pinky swear.”

  “What’s that?”

  Delphine showed her. “So, you swear to get all better, and I’ll swear we’re going to a Sea Dogs game.”

  They linked pinkies and swore.

  “Is my hair gonna fall out?” Kitty asked suddenly.

  Delphine panicked. She didn’t know just what or how much Joey and Cybel had told their daughter and she wanted to respect their decisions, even if she didn’t necessarily agree with them. “Who told you your hair was going to fall out?” seemed like a neutral way to answer.

  Kitty shrugged. “Everyone knows that’s what happens when you’re really sick. This boy in my class, his mother had cancer last year, and she went bald and wore these scarves wrapped around her head.”

  “But her hair grew back, right?”

  “Mmm-hmm.”

  “I heard that when your hair grows back when you’re all better it’s even prettier than it was before.”

  “Really?”

  “Yup. But try not to worry about it, okay?”

  “I’m not worried,” Kitty said in a slightly defensive tone. “Is your friend still visiting you?”

  “Um, yeah.”

  “Can I meet her?”

  “Well, I’m not sure when she has to go back home.”

  “Oh.” Kitty frowned. She seemed to be considering something. “Does she have pretty hair?” she asked then.

  “Yes. She does.”

  “What color is it?”

  “Blond. When we were kids it was almost the color of jonquils. You know those flowers, right?”

  “They grow in our garden out back. And Grandma has them. Will my hair grow back the same color as it is now?”

  “I think so.” Delphine looked keenly at her niece. “Hey, are you sure you’re not worried about losing your hair?”

  Kitty reached for Bunny and without meeting Delphine’s eyes said, “Well, maybe a little.”

  “It might not even happen, you know. And if it does, I promise to sew you the coolest, prettiest scarves. Or maybe you’ll want some funky hats. Or you could get both.”

  “Maybe.”

  “Hey, want to play a game?”

  Kitty shrugged.

  “I’ll go pick something.” Delphine got off the bed and began to rummage in the tiny overstuffed closet. She heard the front door open and her brother call out, “We’re home.”

  “Daddy!” Kitty cried, and raced from the room.

  Delphine stood alone in Kitty’s room, a board game in her hand, and fought the urge to sob.

  58

  Later that afternoon there was a harsh knock on Delphine’s front door, the kind made with a well-shod foot rather than a hand.

  Delphine was surprised to find her mother standing on the porch, holding a large cardboard box in her arms. “Mom,” she said. “I wasn’t expecting you.”

  “I just have a minute. I’m off to Joey and Cybel’s.” She came into the living room and put the box on the floor just inside the front door. “Keep that off your nice furniture. I dusted it off, but the grime is stuck there.”

  “What is it?” Delphine asked.

  “Last night,” Patrice said, “I couldn’t sleep at all. I just had to do something. Nervous energy, I suppose. So I went up to the attic to do some sorting and came across this old box. It’s yours. I thought you might want to look through it.”

  “Oh,” Delphine said. “Thanks.”

  “Let me know if there’s anything in there we can sell at the church fair. Well, I have to run. Come by for dinner if you want, about six. I’m making a pot roast.”

  When her mother had gone Delphine eyed the big cardboard box. The last thing she was in the mood for was a stroll down memory lane. That was Maggie’s sort of thing. But a vague curiosity urged her to kneel down and open the flaps on top of the box. Her mother was right. The box felt soft and grimy.

  One by one, Delphine removed the contents. An apron she had begun to embroider and neglected to finish. A chunky ring of pink and orange plastic, maybe Lucite, in the shape of a heart. A mood ring that had become permanently black. A naked plastic baby doll she had called Baby Mary. A threadbare Raggedy Ann doll wrapped in plastic. A furless pink rabbit she had named Bunny, just as Kitty had named her toy rabbit. An incomplete collection of tiny plastic furniture for a tin dollhouse she had shared with Jackie.

  At the bottom of the box, squeezed between a yo-yo and a pair of roller skates with leather ankle straps, was what looked like a jumble of dirty string. Delphine pulled it free. It was the macramé bracelet Maggie had made for her the first summer of their friendship. Over time, the strands of cotton fiber had worn away and the bracelet had come apart. Over time, other gifts had been given and received, but this dirty, torn bracelet would always have the distinction of being the first gift of the friendship.

  The dubious distinction. Delphine tossed the bracelet back into the box, wiped her hands on her jeans, and with her foot shoved the box against the wall.

  59

  At the same time that Delphine was rejecting a walk down memory lane, Jackie was seated in a back booth at Bessie’s diner in the center of town, waiting for Maggie. Maggie had asked Jackie to meet her. She needed to talk. She hoped their conversation would be more enlightening—and less insulting—than the conversation she had had with Jemima Larkin.

  Maggie arrived a moment later and walked back to the booth where Jackie was sitting. “Thanks for coming,” she said, taking a seat across from her.

  “Sure,” Jackie said. “I don’t have much time, though. Sorry.”

  “No, I understand.”

  When their coffee had been brought to the table, Maggie told Jackie about her offer to buy the Crandalls’ land, about Delphine’s rejection of that offer, and then about the awful fight they had had in the parking lot. Jackie wasn’t quite sure how to react to it all. Maggie’s offer, for instance. That was almost unbelievably generous. And a little bit crazy, as was Delphine wanting to meet in a parking lot. For a moment Jackie wondered if one or both of the women were having some sort of nervous breakdown.

  “I’m sorry about the fight,” she said finally. “And your offer . . .”

  “It’s sincere.”

  “I believe you.”

  Maggie took a sip of her coffee. “It’s the same thing that happened when I offered to find Dave Junior a lawyer when he got into trouble with that other boy. Delphine rejected my help without even considering it. I told her I might be able to get someone to handle the case pro bono, but that didn’t seem to matter.”

  Jackie shook her head. “She didn’t tell me you had offered to help us with Dave Junior’s trouble, either.”

  Maggie smiled ruefully. “She has a habit of keeping secrets. I don’t know why.”

  “Well, thank you. Thank you for your concern about my family. I wish Delphine had told me so I could have thanked you earlier.”

  “Will you consider letting me buy the land?”

  “It’s a generous offer, Maggie,” Jackie said sincerely, “and I appreciate it; I really do. But Dad’s already promised to sell to the Burtons. It wouldn’t be right to go back on our word now. Thank you. You’re a good person.”

  Maggie blushed. “Delphine and I were always there for each other. Until she came back here after college.”

  “That was a long time ago, Maggie,” Jackie pointed out. “Delphine’s used to being on her own. You can’t expect her to be someone she no longer is.”

  “Do people really change that much?” Maggie said. “Can they really become entirely different from who or what they once were? I just don’t believe that. Or maybe, I can�
��t believe that. I won’t let myself.”

  Jackie shook her head. “I can’t talk philosophy, Maggie. I just know what I see.”

  Maggie hesitated. Well, she thought, why not? What else do I possibly have to lose? Certainly not my dignity. I seem to have given that up some time ago. “Maybe you’ll think I’m a sentimental fool,” she said. “Maybe I am one.” And she told Jackie about the aquamarine necklace.

  “So, it’s in my hotel room right now,” she finished. “Hidden away in the lining of the drapes. It’s something my father taught me, how to hide valuables when traveling if there isn’t a safe in the room.”

  “Wow,” Jackie said. She was touched by Maggie’s keeping the necklace for all these years. But she was also worried about the obvious depth of Maggie’s loneliness and what Jackie saw as desperation. She thought now about Jemima’s question: What did Maggie want from Delphine? It seemed as if Maggie had placed all of her hope for happiness, love, and emotional fulfillment in Delphine’s hands. Jackie did not believe that was a burden her sister could, or wanted to, handle.

  “I wish,” she said now, “that I could tell you that everything will be all right between you and my sister. But I can’t guarantee anything, Maggie. Delphine—well, lately, she’s been . . . Your coming back here has shaken her up, I think. I don’t know if that’s good or bad or something in between. And I’m not saying that anything is your fault. Just that I can’t speak for Delphine. I’m sorry.”

  “I know.” Maggie reached for her bag. She had taken up enough of Jackie’s time. “Thank you for listening to me, Jackie,” she said. “I appreciate it.”

  60

  At about ten o’clock on Thursday morning, Delphine opened the front door to find Harry standing on her porch.

  “I thought you were working today,” she said. It wasn’t the nicest of greetings, but she was startled by his unexpected presence.

  “I switched a shift with Buck,” Harry said. “I need to talk to you.”

  Delphine stepped back and Harry followed her into the house. “Okay,” she said. “But I have to get back to the farm soon. I only came home to get some papers I’d forgotten this morning.”

  “I know. I went to the farm first. Your sister told me where to find you.”

  Delphine gestured toward the kitchen. “Do you want some coffee?”

  Harry shook his head. He remained standing, hands shoved into the front pockets of his jeans. From the couch, Melchior watched, eyes narrowed. A sliver of fear ran down Delphine’s spine.

  “Why didn’t you tell me about this Boston trip?” Harry demanded.

  Delphine’s heart began to pound. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I meant to. I guess I just . . .” But she didn’t know what else to say.

  “I don’t understand, Delphine. How was I supposed to find out? When I showed up at your house for dinner and found that you were gone? Do you have so little respect for me that you were going to leave town without telling me?”

  Harry was right. Her behavior had been appalling. She had shared a bed and, to a large extent, a life with this man for ten years and she had been prepared to skip town—albeit for only a night—without a word of warning or explanation.

  “I’m sorry,” she said again. “I am. I was wrong. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

  Harry laughed bitterly. “I know what you were thinking. That good old Harry doesn’t have any feelings. That he wouldn’t worry, that he wouldn’t try in every way he could to find you. Damn, Delphine.”

  “Really, Harry, I’m sorry.”

  Harry sighed and took his hands from his pockets. “I don’t know what to say, Del. I don’t know if I can accept your apology.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said again. “It’s just that . . . Lately, I don’t know . . . Lately, I feel so angry with you. Angry with myself, too, I guess. I just wanted to be . . . away.”

  “Angry at me?” Harry seemed truly puzzled. “What have I ever done to hurt you? I’ve been honest about my marriage since day one. I’ve never lied to you. I’ve never cheated on you. How have I hurt you?”

  Delphine lowered her eyes for a moment. Maybe Harry was, indeed, blameless. Maybe she was the one who had been hurting Delphine Crandall all these years.

  “I know you’re a good man,” she said, looking back to him. “I know I should respect your devotion to your wife, and I do, really, but what do I get out of all this? A friend, yes, a dinner companion, even a lover, but . . . It’s not enough. I’m just not . . . happy.”

  Harry threw his hands into the air in frustration. “God, Del, why didn’t you ever tell me you’re not happy? Am I supposed to just guess what you’re feeling? I’m not a mind reader, you know.”

  “If I had told you, what would you have done about it?” she challenged.

  “Whatever I could do.”

  “Which doesn’t include marrying me.”

  Harry paused before asking, “Is that what you really want, Del? To be married to me?”

  Delphine rubbed her forehead. “Honestly,” she said after a moment, “I don’t know what I want, Harry. Not anymore, anyway.”

  Harry went to the front window and stood with his back to Delphine. “It’s that friend of yours, that Maggie somebody or other. Ever since she’s come to town you’ve been different. Discontent, touchy.”

  “This has nothing to do with Maggie,” Delphine said firmly. Though, of course, in some way it had everything to do with Maggie, and she knew it.

  “I don’t believe that.” Harry turned back around to face her. His expression was hard. “I think you two have something in your past that’s, I don’t know, not right. It’s like you’ve got your own secret club, just the two of you. I don’t know who you are anymore, Delphine.”

  I don’t know who I am anymore, either, she answered silently. She had a powerful urge at that moment to tell Harry that she had once been engaged to the famous journalist and political commentator Robert Evans. That who she once had been was Robert Evans’s love. But she said nothing.

  Harry sighed. “I’m leaving,” he said. “Call me when you’ve figured yourself out.”

  Harry slammed the door behind him. Melchior hissed. Delphine walked into the kitchen. She didn’t know why. She didn’t blame Harry for being angry. She was angry, too. She was also scared.

  She didn’t like confrontation and yet in the past few weeks her life had been riddled with confrontation. She didn’t like change and yet in the past few weeks her life had been rattled and bruised by change.

  She looked at Kitty’s noodle picture, taped to the front of the fridge. Suddenly, she felt overcome with exhaustion. Life, she thought, is so stupidly unfair.

  61

  There was another knock on the front door. Delphine shot to wakefulness. When Harry had gone she had taken some ibuprofen and lain down on the couch, Melchior pressed against her legs. Within minutes she was asleep. Now she checked her watch. Damn. She’d been asleep for almost an hour. She had to get back to work.

  She struggled upright, annoying Melchior, and walked to the door. She opened it to find Maggie standing there.

  “Hi,” Maggie said.

  Delphine sighed. First her mother, then Harry, and now Maggie. Three unadvertised visits in the space of two days. It pissed her off. She was losing control of the life she had so carefully constructed. “What are you doing here?” she said.

  “I wanted to see how you were coping,” Maggie said. And I’m a brave and sometimes foolish person. “I went out to the farm first. Jackie told me you had gone home to get something.”

  “I’m fine,” Delphine said shortly. “I’m grabbing a cup of coffee and going back to the farm.”

  “Could I have a cup, too?”

  Delphine shrugged and turned toward the kitchen. Maggie followed her inside the house and shut the door behind her.

  “How is Kitty?” Maggie asked on the way to the kitchen.

  “Fine. As good as she can be.”

  Delphine poured the rest o
f the morning’s coffee into a saucepan and put it on the stove to heat.

  Maggie took a seat at the kitchen table while Delphine fetched cups. “I talked to Gregory,” she said. “He’s still in Chicago. Of course, he feels terrible about Kitty. I tried to tell him how I was feeling about . . . Well, about everything that’s been going on between you and me. But he didn’t understand at all. Somehow he managed to make it all about himself. I mean—”

  Delphine slammed a cup onto the table. “Stop it!” she cried. “I’m tired of hearing about your petty problems! All those years and you never even sent a postcard from your fancy vacations, never even called to see how I was doing, and now when you finally have a problem—you’re bored in your marriage! Poor you!—you come running for my help. What in God’s name do you want from me? What?”

  Maggie was stunned. For a moment she felt physically afraid. She took a deep, steady breath and then, ignoring the distortions in Delphine’s accusations, she said calmly and quietly, “I want you to be my friend.”

  There followed an awkward silence. Maggie looked down at her hands. Delphine rubbed her temples and then turned off the flame under the bubbling coffee.

  “Don’t you have any other friends?” she asked finally, tiredly.

  “Not like you.”

  Delphine almost laughed. “I think you misjudged us, Maggie. I think you thought we were something we were not.”

  “No,” Maggie insisted, looking back up at Delphine. “I haven’t misjudged us.”

  “I can’t be who you need me to be. Your sister, your twin, something more, a soul mate. I’m not who you remember. I’m not who you think I am.”

  Maggie rose to her feet. “Then, who are you? Tell me.”

  Delphine stepped away. “I wish you had never come here. Why don’t you go back to where you belong?”

  “I’m not sure I know where that is anymore.”

  “I’m sorry for you,” Delphine said, “I really am. But I can’t help you.”