Second Child

by John Saul

  “Oh, come on—just take a look at her. She’s got to be at least twenty pounds overweight, and she always looks terrible. I mean, that hair of hers is so gross—does she ever even wash it? And she’s such a klutz. She can barely swim, and she can’t play tennis at all. She never even has anything to say. Everyone thinks she’s crazy.”

  “And her mother!” Cyndi Miller groaned.

  Instantly, a tiny alarm sounded in the back of Teri’s mind. “Her mother?” she asked. “What’s wrong with Phyllis?”

  Cyndi’s brows arched in an expression that was older than her years. “Well, I suppose there’s nothing wrong with her,” she said in an almost perfect imitation of her own mother’s inflections. “I mean, if you like that kind of person. But she’s not one of us, and she never will be.”

  “You mean because she didn’t grow up here?” Teri asked, certain she already understood exactly what was meant.

  “She didn’t grow up anywhere,” Ellen Stevens replied. “My mother says no one knows where she came from or who her family is.” Her voice dropping just the way her mother’s did when she was about to say something cutting, she went on, “And she’s always trying to push her way in, just like she was one of us!”

  Teri got to her feet, her mind furiously at work, sorting out everything she’d heard in the last few minutes. “I—I better be going,” she said. She started up the beach toward the Holloway house, but turned back when she heard Brett calling to her.

  “Why don’t you come over to the club this afternoon? Maybe we’ll play some tennis.”

  Teri hesitated, then shrugged. “I’ll see,” she said. Then turning away from the group of kids once more, she hurried on up the beach.

  A few minutes later she found Melissa sitting on the sand, staring out to sea, with Blackie at her side. As Teri approached, the big dog growled softly and Melissa glanced up. But she said nothing, her eyes quickly returning to the water.

  “Are you mad at me?” Teri asked.

  Melissa shook her head.

  “You are,” Teri insisted. “You’re mad because I was talking to those kids, aren’t you?”

  Melissa shrugged but didn’t deny it.

  Teri plopped down onto the sand next to her. “They’re not such bad kids,” she said. “They’re a little bit snobby, but look how they live. They’re all rich.” There was a hint of envy in Teri’s voice that made Melissa look at her.

  “They’ll probably like you,” she said, her voice reflecting her pain. “I mean, you’re so pretty, and you look like them. You’ll fit right in.”

  Now it was Teri who shrugged. “I don’t know,” she sighed. “I sort of got the feeling that the thing that really counts with them is where you’re from and who your parents are. And I’m from California.”

  Melissa finally managed a grin. “No you’re not,” she said. “You were born right here, and so were your parents. So you’re one of them.”

  Teri frowned. “But you are, too, aren’t you?”

  Melissa shook her head, then took a deep breath, as if trying to make up her mind to say something she really didn’t want to say.

  “What is it?” Teri pressed.

  “It’s Mom,” Melissa said. “Nobody likes her. She keeps trying to make them, but they won’t. They talk about her behind her back, and laugh at her just like they laugh at me.”

  Teri shrugged. “I bet they’d stop if you didn’t let them know it hurts you. Just pretend you don’t hear. Like I pretended to be drowning this morning.”

  Melissa gaped at her half sister. “You mean you weren’t?”

  A sly smile curled the corners of Teri’s mouth. “Of course not,” she said. “I can swim like a fish. But there’s no better way to meet boys on a beach than to let them save you. So I let Brett Van Arsdale save me.”

  Melissa’s mouth dropped open. “But—But that’s like lying, isn’t it?”

  “So what?” Teri asked. “I wanted to meet him, and I did. If it works, do it.”

  Melissa made no reply, but as she lay back on the sand, feeling the warmth of the sun on her face, she was thinking about what Teri had said.

  “If it works, do it.”

  It sounded so easy, and apparently for Teri it was. After all, it hadn’t taken her more than a few minutes to make friends with all the kids Melissa herself had grown up with but never fit in with.

  So if Teri could do it, why couldn’t she?

  But she already knew the answer: even if she knew what it was she was supposed to do, she still wouldn’t be able to do it.

  No matter how hard she tried, she’d still mess it up, and once again people would laugh. But not with her, like Teri had earlier. No, like all the other times, they would laugh at her.

  Better not to try at all.

  That evening, as dusk was gathering, Teri was in the library with the rest of the family. The television was on, but only Phyllis was watching it. Teri herself was leafing through an old copy of Town & Country, while Melissa was playing a game of chess with her father. Teri watched for a moment, both of them intent on the board, apparently oblivious to everything around them.

  She looked around the walnut-paneled room, and suddenly the walls seemed to close in around her—she’d been here two days already, and hardly been away from the house at all, except for a few minutes at the beach today.

  And then she remembered Brett Van Arsdale’s words that afternoon, when he’d invited her down to the club. She hadn’t gone, of course. Though Melissa had told her to go by herself if she wanted to, Phyllis had told her she shouldn’t—she was still in mourning for her parents, and what would people think?

  Well, what were they supposed to think? And how long was she supposed to wait before she started living again? Did they want her to spend her whole life thinking about the past?.

  And if Melissa had wanted to go to the club, she’d bet it would have been fine with Phyllis.

  Suddenly, she thought if she didn’t get out of the house for a while, she’d go crazy. “I think I’ll go for a walk on the beach,” she said, putting the magazine aside and standing up.

  Phyllis’s eyes flicked away from the television screen for a moment. “Don’t go swimming—it can be very dangerous at night.”

  “Want me to go with you?” Melissa asked, looking up from the chessboard she’d been studying.

  Teri shook her head. “I just want to be by myself for a little while,” she said. “I won’t be gone long.”

  A few minutes later, as she walked along the beach listening to the gently breaking surf, she saw the lights of the Cove Club glowing in the distance. Faintly, she could hear music—a hard rock beat she hadn’t heard since she’d left California. Her pace picking up, she started toward the club, drawn by the music and the lights.

  She hesitated as she came to the grounds of the club itself. There was an outdoor shower at the top of the beach, with a sign saying FOR THE USE OF MEMBERS AND GUESTS ONLY, and from the shower an intricately patterned brick walkway wound through perfectly tended gardens to a terrace and swimming pool. From there a series of steps led up the cliff to the clubhouse itself, which was perched at the very end of the point. Even at this distance, Teri could see people inside the clubhouse, dancing to the compelling beat of the rock music.

  She started up the path, ignoring the discreet but definite NO TRESPASSING sign. After all, her father was a member of the club, and even if he hadn’t been, she’d been invited by Brett Van Arsdale. But as she came to the pool terrace, she suddenly realized that it wasn’t empty. Three people were sitting on chaise longues, quietly talking.

  Suddenly feeling like an outsider, Teri stepped off the path and ducked into the deep shadows of a small grove of pine trees. As she was about to slip back toward the beach, she heard a snatch of conversation.

  “I still say she won’t go.”

  Teri stopped, recognizing Jeff Barnstable’s voice.

  “Why not?” Brett Van Arsdale replied.

  “Because of M
rs. Holloway,” Ellen Stevens’s voice chimed in. “If you invite Teri to the bonfire, you can just bet Mrs. Holloway’s going to make her bring Melissa with her.”

  Teri froze. Were they talking about her? They had to be! Moving carefully, she crept through the trees.

  “Well, so what if Melissa comes?” Brett asked. “I mean, she doesn’t do anything.”

  “But that’s the whole point,” Ellen replied. “She just sits there and stares at you. Besides, she’s such a little pig—she’d eat all the food before any of the rest of us had a chance.”

  “Oh, come on,” Jeff objected. “So she’s not perfect. So what?”

  “I don’t care if she’s perfect or not,” Ellen sneered. “But she’s just not one of us. Not like Teri, at all.”

  The conversation went on, but Teri had heard enough. She slipped back through the trees, not returning to the beach until she was far enough from the club that she wouldn’t be seen.

  She started home, going over and over the conversation she’d just heard.

  So now she wasn’t going to be invited to a bonfire, just because the kids didn’t like Melissa.

  It wasn’t fair. Why should she be left out just because Melissa didn’t fit in? After all, Melissa already had everything she could possibly want.

  And most of it had once been hers.

  Melissa had her house. She even had her old room.

  And her father, too.

  An image flashed into Teri’s mind of Melissa and her father, bent over the chessboard, concentrating only on each other and their game.

  A game Teri hadn’t been part of.

  And now Melissa was going to keep her from making friends with all the kids she should have grown up with herself.

  No, she decided as she approached the big house above the beach once again, it wasn’t fair.

  It wasn’t fair, and it wasn’t how things were supposed to be at all.

  And it certainly wasn’t how she’d planned them.

  CHAPTER 7

  The large clock in the library began to chime the hour. Phyllis glanced over at the chess game that had been going on for more than two hours. Her lips tightened in disapproval—how could her husband and daughter just sit there, hour after hour, staring at nothing but a bunch of figures on a checkerboard? Never speaking, never doing anything. She got up from her chair and moved to the table, casting a shadow over the board as she blocked the light from the floor lamp a few feet away. “Ten o’clock,” she announced. “Time for you to go to bed.”

  Melissa’s eyes flicked up from the board, resting first on her father, then moving on to her mother. “Just a few more minutes? Please? I’ve almost got him.”

  Phyllis shook her head. “You know the rules, dear. You need your rest.”

  “But it’s just three more moves,” Melissa pleaded. “Look, all I have to do is back Daddy’s king over to the side of the board …” Her words trailed off as her father laid his king down on the board.

  “It’s all right, honey,” he said. “I resign. When there’s no hope, why prolong the agony?” He straightened up in his chair, stretched, then grinned crookedly at his daughter. “I’m starting to wonder if it was such a good idea teaching you this game in the first place. How long has it been since I’ve beaten you?”

  Melissa began setting the pieces up on the board, placing each man in the exact center of its starting square. “You almost beat me tonight,” she said. “You could have trapped my queen an hour ago.”

  “How?” Charles asked.

  Melissa began moving the men around the board, recreating from memory the position that had existed sixteen moves into the game. Then her mother’s voice stopped her.

  “Now we’ll have none of that,” she commanded. “You’re not going to replay the whole thing—you’ll both be up all night.”

  Melissa’s hand, holding her father’s queen, hovered in the air for a moment as she looked hopefully at him once again, but when Charles shook his head, she set the piece back on the board, sighing.

  Ten minutes later she was in her nightgown, propped up against the headboard, a book resting against her knees. A cool breeze blew through the open windows, and the night air was filled with the sounds of crickets chirping against the background of the cove’s gentle surf washing up the beach. Melissa snuggled comfortably into the pillows and found her place in the book. A few minutes later, though, as her door opened, she started to slip the book guiltily under the covers. She relaxed as her father came in. He settled on the edge of the bed, then glanced at the book on his daughter’s lap.

  “Anne of Green Gables?” he asked. “How many times have you read it now?”

  Melissa shrugged. “I don’t know—ten, I suppose. I love it—I’m in the part now where Anne accidentally dyes her hair green.”

  Charles grinned, remembering Melissa’s rapt attention when he’d first read the book to her four years ago. “Is she as mortified as ever?”

  Melissa’s head bobbed eagerly. “She doesn’t think she’ll ever leave her room again.” She giggled, but then her giggle died away. “It’s just the kind of thing that would happen to me,” she said, averting her eyes. “Every time she gets in trouble, and it’s not really her fault, I feel like I’m reading about myself. Maybe that’s why I love her so much.”

  Charles leaned over and kissed his daughter. “It seems to me,” he observed, “that there’s a difference between you and Anne. For one thing, you’re not an orphan, and for another, you never had to take care of twins.”

  Melissa’s giggle bubbled up again. “But I feel like her anyway,” she said. “You know—how she was always trying to do the right thing but messed it up? That’s what I do.” She sighed once more. “I wish I were more like Teri,” she said, her voice taking on a wistfulness. “She’s so pretty, and she gets along with everyone. Like today—she didn’t even know all those kids, but she could talk to them like she’s known them all her life. And I have known them all my life, but I never know what to say, and I always feel like they’re laughing at me.”

  “Like Anne thought Gilbert Blythe was laughing at her?” her father teased.

  Melissa shook her head. “I don’t have a Gilbert Blythe. And besides, at least Anne had a bosom friend. I—”

  But before she could say anything else, her father silenced her with a gentle finger to her lips. “You have Teri now,” he reminded her. “And it seems like she’s going to be as good a friend as you could want.”

  Melissa suddenly felt foolish. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I guess I was feeling sorry for myself.”

  “Well, just stop,” her father told her. “You’re a very, very lucky little girl, and you should count your blessings. And,” he added, winking at her, “if you count them right, they just might help you beat me at tennis tomorrow morning.” He kissed her again, then stood up and went to the door. “Do you want me to leave the light on?” he asked.

  Melissa shook her head, putting the book on her night table as her father turned off the light. He closed the door, plunging the room into darkness. Then her eyes began to adjust to the silvery glow of the rising moon that shone through the window. She snuggled deeper into the pillows and watched the shadows of the immense maple outside her window dance against the ceiling. When she’d been much smaller, the shadows had sometimes frightened her, but now she enjoyed them, trying to imagine them as small creatures that enjoyed playing in her room while she slept. Finally, she closed her eyes and was about to drift off into sleep when she heard footsteps in the hall outside her door.

  Her mother’s footsteps.

  She stopped breathing, silently praying that the footsteps would move on, that tonight her mother wouldn’t come into her room. When the door opened, she knew her prayers were not to be answered.

  She lay still, spacing out her breaths in the slow and steady pace of sleep, but a moment later she felt her mother’s hand on her shoulder.

  “Melissa, I know you’re not asleep yet.”

&n
bsp; Melissa rolled over and opened her eyes.

  Above her, her mother’s silhouette loomed against the window.

  “You were a bad girl today,” her mother said. Melissa’s mind raced as she tried to remember what she’d done to make her mother angry at her.

  And in her mind she silently spoke to D’Arcy. What did I do? What did I do to make her mad at me?

  “You were rude to your friends again,” Phyllis said, almost as if she’d heard the unspoken question. “They saved Teri from drowning, and all you did was walk away.”

  Melissa felt a knot of fear form in her stomach. That wasn’t how it had been! It wasn’t how it had been at all! The kids weren’t even talking to her—they were only talking to Teri! But it was like her birthday all over again—it wouldn’t matter what she told her mother. Her mother had already made up her mind what had happened. She said nothing, only staring up at her mother, waiting for whatever was to come. And then, in her mother’s hands, she saw the straps.

  “N-No,” she stammered. “P-Please, Mama, don’t make me wear the straps.”

  Her mother stared down at her. Her voice rose and fell in a strange singsong, as if she were speaking to an infant. “But you have to wear them. You’ve been a bad girl, and when you’re bad, you walk in your sleep. Give me your hand.”

  Melissa, fighting back the scream of protest that rose in her throat, tried to raise her hand in fulfillment of her mother’s command, but her muscles refused to obey.

  “Your hand!” Phyllis demanded, grabbing at Melissa’s arm and jerking it so hard that a wrenching pain slashed through the child’s shoulder. “How can you be such an idiot?”

  As the pain stabbed through her, Melissa cried out for help once again, and this time she heard D’Arcy’s silent answer, whispered to her from somewhere in the shadows of the night.

  Sleep, Melissa—I’m here now, and you can go to sleep.

  Even as she heard the words, Melissa relinquished herself to the darkness that began closing in around her, and left D’Arcy to accept whatever punishment her mother meted out.