Deliver Her: A Novel

by Patricia Perry Donovan

  “Dear Alex,

  I love you. If you remember nothing else from this letter, please know that.

  You probably hate me right now. I can just hear you: ‘Mom, you’re psycho.’

  Jacob’s chortle momentarily rattled Meg, but she forced herself to continue.

  Maybe I am. But if that’s what it takes to protect you, to help you, I’ll fly my psycho flag proudly.

  I know the last year has been horrible on many levels. We have all made mistakes.

  The words blurred as Meg’s eyes filled with tears.

  We are human; we fuck up sometimes. (Yes, that’s your mother dropping an F-bomb.) Know that no matter what happens with Dad and me, we’ll always be here for you.

  Meg paused, acknowledging how much more loaded that statement had become since she had scrawled it two nights before.

  I’m praying you make the most of the next few months. (Don’t freak out! They will go fast, I promise.)

  She looked up and smiled at Alex.

  The choice is yours to accept this help. Not for anybody else, but for you.

  For now, please take care. Because you truly are my precious cargo.

  Love, Mom xo”

  Allowing the letter to fall to her side, Meg clasped Alex’s hand. “Listen to her, Jacob. This is excruciating for me, too. But please hear what she’s saying.”

  Alex stared at their intertwined fingers, then laid her head on Meg’s shoulder, triggering more tears on Meg’s part. “Please, Daddy.”

  “Really, Meg? After yesterday, not knowing if we’d see her again, you’re on board with this?” He crossed his arms, frowning. “Well, of course, you would be, since it’s what you wanted from the beginning.”

  “You’re right. I did, until yesterday. But I came here today ready to bring Alex home. Truly,” Meg said.

  Jacob cocked his head. “Alex, do you know what you’re in for? You won’t see your friends. You’ll hardly see us.”

  “The Birches really isn’t that regimented,” Meg began.

  Alex raised their clasped hands. “God, Dad, it’s not like we do the family-bonding thing that much anyway. Mom and I fight all the time. Maybe the distance will be good for all of us.”

  “There’s been too much distance already, Alex. I want to fix that.”

  “Dad, do you hear yourself? I’m asking for help, and you’re trying to talk me out of it. Isn’t that, like, messed-up parenting?”

  “It’s just . . . your mother sprung this whole thing on me,” Jacob said. “I’m still trying to get my head around it.”

  “Tell me about it.” A smile played at Alex’s lips. Meg realized Alex suspected her all along. “I’m the one he kidnapped.” She angled her head toward Carl, who, along with the shopkeepers, watched their family from a discreet distance.

  Finally, Jacob let go of the duffel in surrender, the bag landing with a soft thud at Alex’s feet. “If that’s what you really want, Al . . .”

  “It is. I swear. Will you guys take me?”

  “Of course,” Meg said. Wasn’t that the ideal scenario Carl described the day he toured Alex’s room?

  Releasing Meg’s hand, Alex made her way to the transporter. On the way, Mia fist-bumped her.

  Observing the interaction, Meg wondered if the two girls would stay in touch or if the past twelve hours would remain some bizarre footnote in both their lives.

  “Sorry I was so much trouble,” Alex mumbled, standing in front of Carl.

  “I’m sorry, too, Alex,” Carl said. “If I could take it all back, I’d—”

  “It wasn’t your fault. It was an accident. You heard me say that to the troopers this morning. I’ll tell them, too, in case they’re mad at you.” She jerked her thumb at Meg and Jacob.

  “Your parents have every right to be upset.”

  “Not about that. Anyway, I’m gonna go to that place you were taking me to.” She looked back at her parents. “Even though I’ll probably hate every second. And if they tell me I can’t smoke or wear my lip ring, I’ll have to go on a hunger strike or something.”

  Meg hid a smile. The Alex I know and love.

  “I hope it doesn’t come to that,” Carl said.

  “And I almost forgot. I have something for you.” Alex opened her palm, revealing a small plastic frog on a string.

  “Rainmaker,” Jacob murmured.

  “You said it brought you luck, so I thought . . . Anyway, I’m sorry,” Alex said. “I shouldn’t have taken it.”

  “It’s OK. You can keep it. It’s done its job. You can pass it along one day.”

  “Cool. Like karma.” The frog went into Alex’s pocket. “I hope Mom Hair . . . I mean Officer Murphy . . . gets better soon.”

  “Me, too.” Carl held out his hand. “I wish you luck, Alex Carmody. And I hope you get to Happy Corner one day. Just remember what I said yesterday.”

  She frowned. “Which part? You said a bunch of stuff.”

  Carl chuckled. “I did, didn’t I? At lunch. The concerts? The Phibs’ mantra?”

  It took a few seconds before Alex’s face flooded with understanding. “Riiiight. The whole ‘One show at a time’ thing.”

  One show at a time. Not a bad motto for life, Meg thought, observing her daughter’s solemn nod. Meg had never embraced energies or chakras or other New Age-isms, but perhaps there had been some cosmic reason Meg had stumbled upon Begin Again’s services. She never should have arranged the transport behind Alex’s and Jacob’s backs, but watching their exchange now, she understood that for all those hours Alex spent in the backseat of Carl Alden’s car, and even for all the hours she had been missing, her daughter had been in very capable and very wise hands.

  Of course, Meg didn’t dare say that to Jacob. Instead, she leaned over to him now and whispered. “Figures. Phibs fan.”

  “I know. They’re all crazy.”

  Alex laughed at something Carl said. “Maybe I’ll see you at a show sometime.”

  “You never know. Look for the green balloons.”

  “What’s he talking about?” Meg whispered.

  “It’s the spot where recovering addicts meet up.”

  Before Meg could absorb Carl’s matter-of-fact admission, Jacob stepped up to the transporter.

  “Hey, Alden,” he started.

  Meg squeezed his arm. “Not now, Jacob. We really need to go.”

  “I know, Meg.” He put out his hand to the transporter. “Just . . . thanks. Thank you for bringing her back to us.” The two men shook hands, then the couple moved along to the Baileys.

  “We’re so sorry to have disrupted your business,” Meg said to Iris.

  “It’s nothing. Our kids are everything, aren’t they?” Iris looked over at Mia, who was hugging Alex good-bye. “We’re close by, if Alex needs anything.”

  “I appreciate that.” Meg swallowed the lump in her throat.

  Behind her, Jacob now had an arm around Alex, her duffel slung over his shoulder, as he herded them both toward Swiftriver’s door.

  Alex turned. “Mom, you coming?”

  “One sec, honey.” Meg waited until the two were outside. “Carl, I owe you an explanation. And an apology.”

  “Not necessary. Save it for your family.”

  “I’ll take care of that, I promise. But there’s one other thing.”

  “If it’s about the money, you’ll get my entire fee back.”

  “We can talk about that later,” Meg said. She pulled out her phone. “I have another question for you.”

  ALEX

  It’s done, Alex thought, closing her eyes in the backseat. The cloud of confidence buoying her back at Swiftriver was melting into a puddle of panic. She wondered if her mother had brought more medication; she might need it at her new school. Or sooner. Evan bragged he’d gotten good and shit-faced the night before his parents dragged him off to Maine that summer. He was actually proud of the fact he couldn’t remember a single detail.

  This voyage, however, would be burned in her b
rain, Alex decided.

  She glanced out the window. Maybe it wasn’t too late. They could still go home. It didn’t help matters that they’d soon pass the spot where Camo Man’s car had skidded off the road. She looked away.

  Stop. You’re doing the right thing. She’d all but made up her mind last night after talking to Mia; Shana’s spilling her guts had only sealed the deal. What if she hadn’t called Shana today, Alex wondered angrily, nibbling a cuticle. How long would her so-called friend have kept her in the dark? It was time for Alex to move on—to clear out everything that didn’t serve her, as Aunt Melissa liked to say. While Shana’s confession certainly didn’t erase all of Alex’s guilt, it at least lightened the sadness on her heart to learn that she wasn’t directly responsible for the accident.

  Because Shana was.

  Shana, who by avoiding Alex’s questions and glossing over the night’s details for the past nine months, had inflicted deep, unrelenting pain. And had made their friendship a total sham.

  All of Shana’s behaviors made sense now: the overnight Amphibian passion, the willingness to drive Alex anywhere, anytime; her oversolicitous texts. All along, Alex had the uneasy feeling Shana was trying to make up for something. Now she knew what it was.

  The depth of her friend’s deception had been too massive to process; Alex couldn’t even recall ending their conversation outside Swiftriver. She’d stared at Mia’s phone a few seconds, then remembered her mom’s letter, balancing on the log to read it. By the time she got to “the choice is yours” part, she was certain what she had to do.

  Rereading the letter now in the car, Alex twirled her braid. Precious cargo—a phrase her mother used practically since birth: clicking Alex into her car seat, reminding her from the front seat to buckle up, yelling it from the front door whenever she got in a friend’s car. So embarrassing.

  Mom Haircut had been precious cargo. So had Cass. Both had sat beside her on the days of the accidents for the same reason: to protect her.

  She’d had no control over what happened to Officer Murphy, or even to Cass. Today, she could begin to hate herself less for losing the most precious cargo of all, her best friend—even without the healing hands of Happy Corner.

  “Sorry, Cass,” Alex whispered, shoving the letter back in her bag, alongside the crumpled Swiftriver food check with Mia’s scrawled cell phone number—a lifeline to get her through the next few months. Suddenly she remembered her own cell, stuffed in Mom Haircut’s pocketbook. It might take some time to reunite with it. Then again, maybe it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world to be off the grid for a little while. She’d managed OK for the last twenty-four hours, hadn’t she?

  “What sounds good, Al?” Her mom beamed her Nurse Meg face at Alex in the rearview mirror. She was driving to give her dad a break, she had said when she hopped in the driver’s seat back at Swiftriver. Right now her mother oozed with goodwill, scanning radio stations and stopping at each for Alex’s opinion.

  “I don’t care. You pick.” Alex was perfectly content to chill.

  “Interstate’s coming up, Meg,” her dad said, straightening up. “If you don’t get over now, you won’t make the exit.”

  Her mother made no move to change lanes. “We’re already a day late. The school can wait a few more hours. Right, Alex?” Her mother beamed again in the mirror, sailing right by the exit.

  “What?” Alex sat up and stared out the window as the exit receded. She didn’t know where the school was, but now that she’d made her mind up to go, she’d just as soon get there. She mimed a smile; maybe there was another nearby spot from her childhood her mother wanted to show her.

  “If you’re thinking about stopping for food, Iris gave us enough to feed an army.” Her father held up the care package Mia’s mom pressed upon them when they left Swiftriver.

  “I was thinking more like, food for the soul.”

  “If this is another crazy scheme,” her dad began.

  “Trust me. It’s not crazy.”

  “Just tell us, Meg,” her dad said. “I’m kind of over surprises at this point.”

  “Stop raining on my parade. I promise. It’ll be worth the wait.”

  ALEX

  Happy Corner, New Hampshire

  Staring up at Rainmaker’s magnificence, Alex had no words. Nothing—not Camo Man’s souvenir tree frog, not her bedroom poster, not even the videos playing on the Phibs’ giant concert screen—had done it justice. Camo Man was right: You had to see Rainmaker in person. It was the only way to truly appreciate the immense brass frog with glittering garnet eyes the size of bowling balls bulging over rounded cheeks, its webbed feet clinging to a cement base the size of a small car.

  The statue was so massive, its brassiness so blinding, that its disciples had to circle it a few times in order to absorb the monument’s full impact and receive the supersize amphibian’s rumored luck and blessings.

  Even after she and her dad completed their circuit, Alex struggled to speak. “I . . . I can’t believe we’re here.”

  “Me, neither. I’m so happy to be here with you. We can thank your mother for that.” Behind them, her mom hadn’t stopped smiling since she ended the guessing game, waving her phone with the directions she’d gotten from Carl.

  Her mom stepped up to the statue now and rubbed Rainmaker’s flank. “So this is what I’ve been missing all these years.” Around them, other Phibs disciples hovered, drinking in the powers associated with the golden tree frog: fertility, wealth and most of all, tons of rain—the part Camo Man had droned on about at lunch. But today, without Cass beside her, there was only one Rainmaker blessing that mattered to Alex: the idol’s promise of a happy afterlife, an ancient belief about golden tree frogs held by some Indian tribe. Cass had shared it with her.

  That was Alex’s prayer today for her friend—peace and contentment for infinity. Gazing past Rainmaker’s golden reflection at the blue expanse beyond, Alex felt in her bones that her intention had been heard. “We made it, Cass,” she mouthed.

  She was ready to move forward.

  Feeling happier than she had in months, Alex called to her parents, eager to explore the rest of Happy Corner in the hour limit they’d set for the visit. The three strode across the square to the edge of a massive field that stretched out as far as she could see. Squinting, Alex made out dozens of white tents pitched around a red barn—the barn that housed the school, she realized giddily, recalling pictures Cass had unearthed. From this angle, set against the cloudless sky, Happy Corner resembled a magical kingdom.

  “Faster, guys,” she urged.

  “Relax, Al. This place isn’t going anywhere,” her mom said.

  But I am. She skipped ahead, pausing at the first row of tents, where all the flaps were closed. Alex hesitated, unsure how to summon the Happy Corner residents. Should she knock, yell, ring a bell, maybe? Up close, the tents were stained and dirty; the one in front of her had holes in it the size of her fist. She stuck a hand through one. The flap lifted suddenly and a little boy sprinted by her, wearing nothing but a diaper.

  “Sage, get back in here,” a female voice called from within. “Sahara, go get your brother, will you?” A girl about twelve, also barefoot, long hair flying, dashed after the toddler, tackling the boy and bringing him back, both of them slipping into the tent. Inside, Alex heard the mother berate her son.

  A second later, the flap lifted again and a woman stepped out. “Can I help you?”

  Alex stepped back at her unfriendly tone. Her hair was long like her daughter’s, but greasy and streaked with gray. Grass stains smudged her long, shapeless dress; the toes peeking out beneath it were caked with mud.

  “We’re just visiting,” Alex said. “I’ve always wanted to come here. It’s, like, a legend.” By now, her parents had caught up.

  “Legend, huh? They with you?”

  When Alex nodded, the woman grudgingly said they could have a look around, as long as they didn’t touch anything. “You wouldn’t believe what th
ose groupies think they’re entitled to,” she said.

  Alex glanced back at Rainmaker. The tree frog looked much smaller from this perspective. “What time are you guys going to dance?”

  The woman frowned. “Dance?”

  “You know. The ceremonial dances around Rainmaker?”

  She laughed. “We haven’t done that in years. You’re welcome to dance yourself, if you want. There’s always some tourists who do.”

  “That’s OK. I’ll pass. Would it be cool if we peeked at the school?”

  “Go ahead, but there’s not much happening on a Saturday. Most of the bigger kids take a bus to the town school now anyway.”

  “But what about the homeschooling? The one-room schoolhouse where everyone learns together?” Alex asked.

  “State shut us down. The kids weren’t doing too well on the standardized tests.”

  Behind Alex, her mom cleared her throat. “What is open, then? We came all this way.”

  “What about the gardens? Or the fields? Could we sample some of Happy Corner’s homemade products?” Alex asked.

  “Outsourced. Too much feuding over profits. Anyway, there wasn’t much to sell this year. Our crops caught some kind of bug last season. We’re giving the fields a rest.”

  Alex twirled her braid. “So if there’s no dancing and no school and no garden,” she said slowly, “then what exactly do people do at Happy Corner?”

  The woman scratched her head. “Frankly, honey, I wait for the mail, and my check—try to figure out a way to get by with my kids.”

  Alex felt her dad’s hand on her shoulder. She gazed down the row of tents. “What about all the others?” she asked.

  “Empty. Summer people, mostly. We rent them out. College kids, city hipsters coming up to camp. It’s cheaper than a hotel,” she said with a shrug. “We added Wi-Fi in the barn. They wouldn’t come otherwise.”

  “But the concerts. They must come for the music.”

  Again, the woman’s face went blank as stone.