“You gotta get used to it,” she whispered, because she needed to hear someone talk before she got too scared and just ran away. She loved her mom so much. She’d learn to like her house. And be okay with Don, too.
Her mom was.
The garage door opened. “Hey, squirt.”
“Hi.” Kelsey looked down. The man’s teeth were just too gross. It had to be more than coffee that did that to them. One was even broken.
“Your mom told me you were in here. She’ll be back in a second.”
Wondering what her dad would say if he could see her right then, Kelsey nodded.
“I’m just going out to my truck to get some flares,” he said, heading toward the back door beyond which there was a big cement pad where Mom said he kept his truck when he wasn’t driving.
Don owned his own rig, but drove for only one company. Mom acted like that was a big deal.
He was back before Mom, his arms full of red dynamite-looking things like she’d sometimes see on the highway with Dad when there’d been a bad accident. “Truck drivers always have lots of these,” he said, smiling at her. Kelsey wished he wouldn’t. His beard went in his mouth when he did that and it showed his teeth.
She made herself smile as much as she could. And let go of a big breath when he disappeared again through the garage door. At least he seemed happy. That was a good thing. Wasn’t it?
There was a box open on the wood table by the couch and Kelsey wondered what was in it. And where most of the junk around the room came from. Mom had never had little glass rabbits like the ones that were all over the top of the television and the fake flowers in the window were more dusty than pretty. Her head jerked back around to stare at the floor when the garage door opened again.
“Sorry that took so long, honey.” Mom was back.
Kelsey glanced up to tell her it was okay, and saw that Don had come back in, too.
“Let’s all three sit down and talk for a few minutes, shall we?” Mom said like someone from a TV show and not like her mom at all.
Kelsey took the chair that didn’t have a big brown spot in the middle of it. Mom and Don sat on the couch and Kelsey looked away when he put his arm around her. It was just too…weird.
They asked her about school. Or Don did. Mom already knew most of that stuff, anyway. Kelsey always told her about school.
“So you’re pretty popular, I’ll bet,” Don said. His voice was nice. He still gave her the creeps.
“I dunno,” she said.
“Of course she is!” Mom said kind of excitedly. “Look at her. She’s beautiful. And she’s smart. And besides, she’s my kid!”
And her dad was the principal.
“How many friends you think you have?”
“I dunno.” Her stomach was starting to hurt. Probably because it was close to dinnertime. She had to leave soon to get to Josie’s before her dad got there.
Mom laughed kind of funny. “He’s asking because we wanted to have a little party for you,” she said. “It’s to celebrate, when I get to have partial custody of you again, and we need to know how many people will be here so we have enough food.”
“Uh, I don’t really have parties,” Kelsey said. The backs of her legs were itching through her jeans.
“We don’t have to wait to have a party,” Don said. “We’d like you to feel free to invite your friends over anytime you want. Treat this place like your own.”
She nodded. And tried to picture this being her home.
“Why don’t we arrange something soon?” he said. “Like next week? You could bring a friend with you when you come.”
“I can’t.”
“Why not?” Don’s eyes looked kind of like her dad’s when he was talking to someone who broke a school rule.
“My dad would find out.”
And she didn’t want her friends to come there. The thought made Kelsey feel ashamed. But it was still true. She had to get used to loving her mom here first. Besides, all her things were at her house.
“Well, as soon as your mom has everything worked out with the lawyer…”
Kelsey didn’t say anything.
“You can bring over all your girlfriends for a pizza party.”
She wondered what she and Dad were having for dinner. And if Susan was coming over.
“Let’s cross that bridge when we come to it,” Mom said, rubbing her hand on Don’s leg.
Mom saved her, just like moms were supposed to. Meredith had done that before, too, when Susan was asking dumb questions. But her friendship with Meredith was messed up now.
Thank goodness she was getting her mom for real.
“We’d better be going,” Mom said then, standing up. Don put a hand on her butt and she leaned down and gave him a kiss. “I don’t want Kelsey to get in trouble.”
“Hey,” Don said, “I just thought of something.” Mom and Don looked at each other. “Your mother says you go to Lincoln Elementary.”
“Uh-huh.” Kelsey was at the door already.
“I have a friend whose son goes to the junior high next door and his dad’s not allowed to see him, but he wanted to give him a letter and some new crystals for his rock collection. Maybe you could deliver them for us.”
She’d already said no about her friends coming over.
“That would be nice, wouldn’t it, Kelsey?” Mom said. “Kind of like your friend Josie helping us see each other.”
It was. Kind of. It made her feel safer to know there was a boy in the school right next door to hers who was going through the same thing she was.
“Do I have to keep it secret?”
Mom looked kind of sad for a minute. “Yeah, just for now, honey,” she said. “It’s like you and me. They’re working on being allowed to see each other for real.”
“How heavy are the crystals?”
“Light,” Don said, punching her lightly on the shoulder. “I wouldn’t ask you to carry anything heavy, squirt! They’re really more like shards of glass, except you can’t cut yourself on them. My friend says they look cool when you hold them up to different lights. I guess his son uses them for art class.”
“How many? ’Cause I don’t want my dad to figure it out.”
“We’ll split them up and do them a little bit at a time, how’s that?”
Kelsey couldn’t think of any more excuses. And if she didn’t go soon she was going to be in trouble, for sure.
“Will you do it for us, honey?” Mom asked, running her fingers through Kelsey’s ponytail.
“I guess, but us kids at Lincoln aren’t allowed to go over to the junior high, and besides, I don’t know who he is.”
“I’ll have his dad tell him to come and find you,” Don said. He left the room and Kelsey thought they were done, but her mom stood there without leaving until Don came back, carrying a little brown paper bag that would fit in the side pocket of Kelsey’s backpack.
“Here it is,” he said. “The boy’s name is Kenny and I’ll have him meet you right after school on Monday where you always meet your mom, okay?”
“’Kay.” She took the bag, glad to be almost out of there and spun toward the door.
“Wait, Kelsey, I have to ask just one thing.”
She turned back. “What?”
“It’s private stuff, between a dad and his son. So don’t open the letter, okay?”
She hadn’t been going to anyway. “I’m not a snoop,” she said and walked outside, hoping that her mom would be right behind her.
CHAPTER TEN
“HEY, MER, you dressed?”
Meredith rolled over on her bed the second Saturday in April, squinting to read the digital 7:06 that was almost too faded to see in the light of the setting sun. And then she glanced down at the sweatpants and T-shirt she’d put on after her shower around noon that day.
“Sort of.”
“Well, get dressed. I’m coming to get you.”
She took a bite of popcorn from the bowl next to her, pushing aside a couple
of books in order to sit up. “No, you aren’t. I’m journaling.”
And there was a movie on the bed, somewhere, waiting to be watched. She’d rented it.
“Your mother called.”
Damn. She hated it when her mother called Susan.
“I’m fine.”
“She said you haven’t been out of your house except to go to school since a week ago Thursday.”
“I told her I’m on a vision quest.” As much as one could be on a soul-searching mission in the middle of a school year when one was a teacher.
“Mark told me Kelsey was a little hard on you last Thursday in his office.”
Momentarily, the comment sent a shot of fear through her. “Kids are honest,” she said as the feeling passed. “She had reason to be confused. I’m glad she talked to me.”
“And I hear she hasn’t spoken with you since.”
“No, but she’s got her best friend back.” She’d noticed the two hanging out together at lunch and recess all week. And she’d been thankful for that. Kelsey needed a best friend more than just about anything else, to help stabilize her through the changes that were coming to her life.
“And you canceled your handball game.”
“I had a lot of papers to grade.”
“You didn’t go to yoga.”
“The vision-quest thing.” Her mother and Susan should understand that. They’d been the ones who’d talked her into going on the two-week spiritual hiatus that had helped her come to terms with her gift one summer during college.
“It’s not flying, Mer.” Susan’s voice was dry. “A legitimate vision quest I would support completely. This ‘excuse’ of one to camouflage the fact that you’re hiding, I’m not buying. Get dressed. Mark and Kelsey are expecting us in half an hour.”
“I can’t.” She heard the change in her voice, the weakness, and hated that it was there. She hated popcorn, too. Meredith dumped the stuff, plastic bowl and all, in the waste basket in the corner of her room.
“Yes, you can.”
“Not until I figure out some things.” Over by the window, she scanned the familiar branches and leaves covering half of her garage. Watched the clouds change color as the sun slid behind them.
“What things?”
“What’s real about me and what isn’t.”
Susan’s determination was stronger than her own. But then, Susan was stronger than she was. “What does that mean?”
She sighed. Closed her eyes. But everything was the same when she blocked out the world.
“Do I really feel what other people feel, Suze—or do I just think I do? Am I nuts? Because I gotta tell you, if this gift is for real I’m wondering why more people don’t accept it. Wouldn’t you think people would recognize the truth?”
“So you’re saying that because people are skeptical it can’t be true?”
Maybe. That could be just what she was saying.
“I’m saying I’m keeping to myself for a while, staying away from other people and their feelings so I can clear my head.”
“You’re hiding because you felt Kelsey’s fear and it scares you. The gift scares you.”
“How do you know that?”
“Your mother told me.”
That was a low blow. The one person who was always spot on when Meredith struggled was her mother.
“Why didn’t she tell me herself?”
“Because she’s in Florida. And worried about you.”
“I’ll be fine.”
“I know you will. And in the meantime, I’m coming to get you. We now have twenty-five minutes. Don’t waste any more time arguing, Mer. I promised your mom, and that’s all there is to it. I have a key to your house, remember? If I have to bring the party to you, I will.”
Meredith stood at her closet, unable to settle on an outfit. What kind of night would this be? Professional? Earth mother? Vampy? She didn’t feel like anything but sweats.
“Why Mark and Kelsey?”
“Because you need to be around that child.”
“My mother told you that, too?”
“No, I figured that one out on my own.”
Meredith smiled. And it felt good.
“And because Kelsey’s been acting stranger than ever around me and Mark, and I need your help.”
She didn’t want them in her house. Didn’t want to have their energy here, mixing with hers, after they were gone. And Susan needed her.
She stared at her jeans. Tight ones. Loose ones. Beaded ones. And her skirts. Long colorful cotton. Short and black. “Where are we going?”
“Mark’s.”
“To do what?”
“Grill hamburgers out on his fire pit and roast marshmallows.”
She pulled out a pair of tight beaded jeans and a form-fitting purple sweater. Purple for peace. Beads for Kelsey. Tight because she liked her jeans best that way. And then she glanced in a mirror. “I need more than twenty-five minutes.”
“I’ve got the fire log in my back seat.”
“You go ahead and I’ll meet you there,” she said, feeling better about that idea. She could leave when and if she had to, that way.
“If you don’t show, I’m coming over there—with boyfriend, his daughter and hamburgers in tow.”
She had no doubt Susan would deliver on the threat. “I’ll be there within the hour.”
SOMETHING WAS WRONG with Kelsey. Meredith’s fear escalated hugely the moment she walked out to Mark’s backyard and came face to face with the little girl. Wearing a zip-up hooded sweater and jeans, Kelsey sat by herself on one of the two swings attached to a wooden set off in a corner of the yard.
With a quick greeting to Mark and a hug for Susan, Meredith made a beeline for that second swing. Sat. Pushed off slowly.
“Hey, Kelse.”
Meredith decided that the mumbled reply was hello.
“You got new jeans.”
They had beaded butterflies down both legs.
“Yeah.”
“I like them.”
“Thanks.”
Kelsey wasn’t so much rude as she was just plain absent.
“You still mad at me?”
“I guess not.”
Susan was right. Meredith needed to see the child. Someplace where speaking with Kelsey wouldn’t jeopardize the little girl’s relationship with her friends at school.
“We still friends?”
Kelsey shrugged. “I guess so.”
The child’s expression was hidden in shadows, despite the flickering light of the fire pit and the porch lamp on the house.
“Susan says you picked hamburgers.”
“Mmm-hmm.”
“Grilled hamburgers have always been my favorite, too.” Too pacifying. Not of interest to Kelsey at the moment.
The little girl said nothing.
“You want to tell me what’s wrong?”
Kelsey pushed off harder, swinging away from Meredith. “Nothing.”
Grabbing the chain of the child’s swing, Meredith slowed her down, careful not to tip her out as she did so. “I don’t like to be lied to any more than you do.”
The words were harsh. She hadn’t meant to be harsh. But they’d come out that way, all the same.
Kelsey stared at her and Meredith could have sworn there were tears glinting in her eyes.
“I’m not lying to you,” she said after a lengthy pause.
But Meredith knew she was. And that, if she pushed, Kelsey would continue to lie.
“Okay, I’m glad. You’re my date tonight, you know, so if anything does start to bother you, you’ll let me know, right?”
Kelsey shrugged, her small shoulders rubbing against the swing’s chain. “Sure.”
And that was the best Meredith could do.
DINNER WAS GOOD, and surprisingly fun. Mark entertained them all with some of the wild and crazy stories he’d heard from kids as excuses for misbehavior during his five years as a principal. Meredith laughed so hard she had tears streaming do
wn her cheeks.
And Kelsey, sitting beside her at the picnic table, was laughing just as hard.
They roasted marshmallows, and laughed again as more of the melting white confections fell into the fire than stayed on their sticks. Susan talked about the s’mores she’d had for the first time the previous year at a hospital picnic, astonished that roasted marshmallows, chocolate squares and graham crackers could be so good together. And Meredith sipped a glass of wine and told herself not to think about anything but the moment.
Kelsey was smiling. Susan looked content, her face peaceful in the firelight. And Mark was…Mark. Solid. Strong. Sure.
And gorgeous in jeans and a beige sweater that almost exactly matched his hair. His face was lined, as though he’d had a hard day—or week—but when he looked at Susan or Kelsey, he smiled.
He didn’t look at Meredith.
And for that she was thankful.
“It’s time for bed, sport,” he announced when every single one of the marshmallows had either fallen into the ashes or been eaten. “Get your teeth brushed, and then I thought it would be nice if Susan came in to hear your prayers.”
With one foot over the bench, Kelsey froze, her eyes like glass as she stared at her father. “No!”
Meredith fell into a pool of feeling so intense she couldn’t begin to identify it.
“Excuse me?”
“I don’t want her in my room.”
“This is my house, young lady. My friends are welcome wherever I say they are.” Clearly Mark was shocked. And not at his best.
“I won’t say my prayers if she’s there, and you can’t make me do that. They’re between me and God.”
“Kelsey Elizabeth!”
“No, Mark, it’s okay,” Susan said, placing a hand on Mark’s arm as he rose.
“It’s not okay,” Mark reached for his daughter, hauling her around the table with a hand on her upper arm. “You apologize at once.”
“No.”
“Kelsey, I said apologize.”
His grip wasn’t firm enough to hold the child if she attempted to pull away. But his voice could have stopped a grown woman in her tracks.
“No. They’re my prayers and you have no right to give them to anyone.”
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