Between the Girls (The Basin Lake Series Book 3)

by Stephanie Vercier

  “Did you really?” I ask.

  “I totally did.”

  “Well, that would be weird if anything came of that. First, your brother and my sister… and then my other sister and your half-brother?”

  “I’m confused,” Tyler says, nudging me. “I mean, I know you’ve told me all the love connections around here, but refresh my memory?”

  “Believe me, you don’t want to know,” Nick says with heavy sarcasm.

  I pretty much just ignore Nick. “My sister, Paige, and McKenzie’s brother, Evan, are together.”

  “Yeah, right, I met them. And Evan is your brother, huh?” He looks at McKenzie.

  “He is. And Henry is my half brother. He’s too young for Kate, but I bet he’s giving it his all out there.”

  “Should we go out and give him a hand?” Tyler looks toward Nick and then James.

  “Give him a few pointers?” James adds.

  “I could definitely teach him how to tank,” Nick says.

  “He’d actually probably appreciate it,” McKenzie announces. “I’m not even sure he’d be embarrassed.”

  Henry might not mind, but I can picture Kate’s face going red with anger in thinking anyone might be making fun of her by way of Henry’s adolescent attempt at wooing her.

  “Maybe we should hold off. Kate’s not in the best place for teasing.”

  Nick tosses a pillow that was on the ground at me. “You aren’t any fun, Kessel. And here I thought I was the old stick in the mud.”

  Tyler tosses the pillow back, a little too hard. “She’s plenty fun. We’ll just have to entertain ourselves some other way.”

  A phone buzzes, and I notice it’s Tyler’s phone on his desk that is lighting up. Nick is sitting closest and turns to look at it. And then, like he’s fighting for the last spot on a lifeboat, Tyler jumps from the bed and nearly pushes Nick in order to reach his phone. He snatches it up, not even bothering to look at the text message that just rolled in, and stuffs it in his pocket.

  “What the holy fuck just happened there?” Nick asks, his mouth agape.

  I have pretty much the same question.

  “Seriously,” James says, “You just get a text from your other girlfriend or something?”

  “What other girlfriend?” McKenzie says in horror.

  I’m silent as my stomach pinches and my heart does this kind of rolling thing in my chest that I don’t even have a proper definition for. All I know is that Tyler is being weird and overprotective of his phone. I actually start to consider the message might actually be from another girl—it might be from Laney.

  “It’s just stuff from a friend,” Tyler shoots back, his speech pressured. “It’s embarrassing, private shit for him. I didn’t want anyone to see.”

  “Is it Sam?”

  He nods, but doesn’t say anything.

  “Touchy, touchy,” James says.

  I think Tyler is about to tell him off when my own phone starts to ring. I pull it out, not recognizing the number but deciding to get it anyway, if for no other reason than to pull myself away from my discomfort.

  I get up from the bed and move to the door. “Hello?”

  “Is this Claire?” It’s a man’s voice, Mr. Latham I think.

  “Yeah, is this Mr. Latham?” My heart starts to beat faster, wanting so desperately to hear some good news about Margaret.

  “It is. I’m sorry to call you on Christmas Eve, but I wanted to let you know that my beautiful wife passed away last night.”

  Passed away?

  It takes me a moment to realize the weight of what he’s telling me.

  “What? Really? I…” I’m still processing, unsure of what to say.

  “Our children were with her. It was peaceful. She’s in a better place, Claire. She looked so forward to your visits, and I thank you so much for that. It has meant a lot to us all.”

  “I’m so sorry,” I say, beginning to cry. “I was really hoping and praying she’d get better.”

  “Me too,” he says, sounding resigned. “Anyway, I have more calls to make. I’ll let you know when the service will be if you’d like.”

  “Please do. I’d really like to go.”

  “She’d like that too I’m sure. Well, good night, Claire. Merry Christmas to you and your family.”

  “You too,” I offer, stunned. But how merry could their Christmas be when the person who was probably the most important member of their family had left them?

  “What is it?” Tyler is up, his hand on my back.

  “Margaret’s gone,” I cry out, allowing myself to burst into tears.

  “God, I’m sorry.” And then he’s pulling me close into his strong chest.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  TYLER

  The memorial service is right after New Year’s at a Catholic church in Spokane. It’s one of those really old ones, a cathedral really. The church is full. Margaret obviously had a lot of friends and family—she touched a lot of lives.

  I’m sitting right next to Claire, holding her hand. On her other side are her mom, Clark, Kate, Paige and Evan, the last two changing their flights around in order to stay and support Claire, which I think was pretty cool of them. I’d had a chance to hang out with Evan, tossing a football back and forth for a while one day at Claire’s, after which he’d grabbed some Frisbees and taught me Frisbee golf. Even though he lives on the other side of the country, I could see him and I becoming good friends.

  My folks are here too, sitting next to me. McKenzie and Henry are behind us with their mom and the guy Claire says is McKenzie’s stepdad and Henry’s bio-dad along with being one of Basin Lake’s physicians.

  Nick, Nina and James are behind us too, all here to support Claire. Apparently Austin wanted to come as well, but James convinced him it would just stress Claire out. I’m thankful for that.

  With everyone’s attention to the front of the church, Mr. Latham talks about his wife, about how they met, what their early life together was like, how Margaret was a champion for her children, how she fought for them and was instrumental in getting help for their son who had a form of autism before autism was something people even talked about or really understood.

  Claire is trying hard not to cry, but every once in a while a tear slides down her cheek or her chin trembles, and then she softly clears her throat and takes a deep breath. When that happens, I just hold her hand a little tighter.

  When the service is over, we walk through the greeting line, and I find myself shaking Mr. Latham’s hand.

  “I only met your wife once,” I tell him, “but she was pretty amazing.”

  “That she was,” he says, the pride he must have for his wife appearing to push his emotion back just enough to get through this.

  “This is like Dad’s memorial,” Paige says once we’ve all gone to the reception hall next door to get food and watch a slide show of pictures of Margaret and her family and friends.

  “You remember it better than I do,” Claire tells her.

  “You said Dad was in heaven,” Paige tells Claire, “while I couldn’t quite fathom how his remains could be in the tiny box at the front of the church.”

  “Cremation isn’t the easiest thing to explain to a child,” Mrs. Kessel says, close enough to hear the conversation. “I’d honestly never understood the process myself until I had to deal with it for your father.”

  I try to imagine what it would have been like to lose one of my parents the way these girls lost their dad. It had been traumatic enough going through what I did, but my parents were always there—I never questioned or feared they wouldn’t be. Dad might not have dealt with things the way Mom or I wanted him to, but there was a comfort knowing he was close, that if I really needed him that he’d be there.

  After Claire and her mom talk to a few more people, we all drift out of the reception with a plan to start the drive back to Basin Lake. We’d all come in separate vehicles, Kate having ridden over with us but now clinging to Paige and saying she’ll ride
back with her and Evan. I’m okay with that, but Claire so obviously isn’t.

  “I’m losing her,” she says once we’re back on the road. It’s started to snow, the ground already getting blanketed with a nice layer of white.

  “She probably just misses Paige,” I tell her, having wanted to make Claire smile today even though I know she’s still processing her grief for Margaret.

  “She’s seen plenty of Paige while they’ve been here and been a smartass to her too, but it’s me she doesn’t seem to want to be around. I try so hard, thinking I’m making progress, but maybe that’s the problem. Maybe I’m suffocating her.”

  “I don’t think so.” I put my hand on her thigh and give her a smile when she looks over.

  “I’m glad your parents came,” she says, switching gears, as she’s apt to do sometimes.

  “Yeah, well, they really like you, so they wanted to be there.” Even my Dad who might want to see me single for as long as possible couldn’t resist wanting to support her today.

  “And they aren’t upset we didn’t ride with them?”

  “No, I think Dad wanted to get something at Home Depot, and then they’re going downtown for lunch or dinner or something.”

  Claire doesn’t say anything, and at first I think maybe she’s hurt that my parents are going to do something so mundane after her friend’s memorial service. She just stares through the window, snow falling harder now, the white all around us casting a soft, pale light on her beautiful face.

  “Are you okay?” I finally ask her.

  “Do your parents love each other?”

  She seems to be evading answering me, and I’m a little taken aback by the question. My parents have always just kind of been together, but I’m not sure anyone has ever asked me if they love one another.

  “Yeah… I’m sure they do. They’ve been through a lot of shit with me and are still together. That says something, right?”

  “Then I want you and I to be together for just as long, as long as Margaret and her husband, no matter what comes at us.”

  Wow. Just… wow.

  Her saying that makes me warm all of a sudden, a sense that I belong to someone, like she and I are meant to be our own family even if it’s a little hard to imagine an entire lifetime when I can’t even figure out where I’m going to college or if I’m going or what part my ex-girlfriend still has in my life. But how do I verbalize all of that?

  “Yeah, of course.” It’s a lame, incomplete answer, and I know it.

  “Because I love you,” she tells me, and I know it’s true.

  “I love you too, Claire—you know how much.” I move the hand I’d had on her thigh and wrap my arm around her instead, only moving it back to the steering wheel when we hit a patch of ice and I nearly lose control.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  TYLER

  Valentine’s Day

  Mr. Latham had mentioned at the memorial service that he used to sing to his wife each and every Valentine’s Day from the first year they’d been married to the last year they’d shared together on earth. He said he wasn’t a very good singer but that his wife loved it, especially when she was in the nursing home. It had even become this tradition there that the staff would expect his singing, and they’d crowd around the door to listen. He shared that he was often embarrassed having an audience, but he would go forward regardless because it brought his wife happiness, and that, he said, was what was most important.

  While I’m not a singer and would have to undergo torture to get anyone to make me, I’ve taken note of who Claire likes, the band she sings along to sometimes if she plugs her phone into my Jeep. So, the two tickets I’ve gotten her for an October concert in Seattle are for Bastille, a band she loves in the city I’ll expect her to be in as she starts college. And while I’m not sure where I’ll be exactly, it feels like a promise I can make to her that come fall, we’ll find a way to be together, no matter what.

  I’m feeling pretty good about the gift as I take my morning shower and get ready for school, anxious to see her face, hopeful she’ll approve of the purchase and the indirect message attached to it.

  I cut my shower short when my phone buzzes. Claire isn’t huge on texting or chatting, but we keep in touch, and I’d probably be tempted to do more of it if she wasn’t so busy with school and work and trying to keep her grades up. But after doing a quick dry off, I check my phone, and it’s another text from Laney.

  I sit down on my bed and sigh. It had been Laney who texted me nearly a month and a half ago on Christmas Eve. It had come in while everyone, most importantly Claire, had been in my room. Somehow I’d just known it was her after she’d texted me that morning, and her text from Christmas Eve Day is just a quick scroll up:

  Sipping hot chocolate and thinking of you. I hope you’re warm where you are. Miss you.

  After I’d talked to Sam, I wasn’t sure how I should respond to it, not that I could have done it then and there with Claire looking up at me like she knew something was off.

  Not wanting to be an ass and totally ignore Laney, I waited until Christmas Day, before heading over to Claire’s house, and replied:

  I do miss you, Laney. I hope you’re well. Now it’s officially Christmas, so enjoy it.

  I was hoping that would be the end of it, for the day at least, and had cursed myself in the mirror for telling her I missed her. What would Claire think if she read that? She’d fucking hate me is what.

  And texting back just led Laney to text more. I spent fifteen minutes going back and forth with her while she was in Aspen with her family—she said she’d sprained her ankle and couldn’t ski with them and was stuck in a rental cabin with bad wi-fi.

  Telling myself I was just assessing my feelings for her, I did my best to entertain her, talking about a few friends back home, taking a few pictures of my room in Basin Lake and even one of myself when she asked. In return, she sent me a picture of her reclined on this huge couch in a cabin rental that couldn’t be cheap. She still looked like the girl I fell in love with, long blonde hair that used to remind me of sunrises, and green eyes I used to look into and feel like I knew everything about her. Seeing her again, even in a picture, made my throat go a little dry and my heart beat a little faster. But whatever nostalgia I was feeling was layered in guilt, a nagging ache in the pit of my stomach at talking to an ex when I had Claire, someone I loved desperately and never wanted to lose.

  And worse was the fact that Claire had just lost her friend, Margaret. She needed to be surrounded by people that loved and cared about her, and here I’d been wasting time talking to another girl. Knowing how wrong I was, I ended the conversation, telling her my parents were calling for me. Texting Laney had actually made me late to Claire’s, but she didn’t seem to notice. She was just so sad about Margaret and seemed to be grateful I was there for her at all. That quiet gratitude made me feel even worse.

  But it apparently didn’t make me feel bad enough to stop talking to Laney. About once a week, I’d get a text from her. Basically ignoring Sam’s advice and my own gut, I’d text her back. I could excuse it in my own mind because we weren’t planning some secret romance. It was mostly Laney complaining about a class or her college choices and me commiserating in a quick reply. Sometimes I’d actually feel good after hitting send, like I could actually be friends with my ex and somehow erase all of the bad things we’d done—maybe it was a lot more about that than actually still loving Laney.

  Today, though, Valentine’s Day, she raises the stakes:

  Love is in the air. Is it weird for me to tell you I still love you?

  The message is surrounded in emoji hearts.

  And yes, weird is a good word for what she and I feel for one another.

  I love you too, Laney. Happy V-Day.

  My regret is sudden, hitting me with a vengeance. Does it matter that I’d intended to add the word friend to the message? Will she read through the lines and see that no matter what confused feelings I might have insid
e, that outwardly I can only love Laney as a friend? Or am I lying to myself on all counts because talking to Laney is a huge slap to Claire, and I fucking know that, so why do I keep doing this?

  To alleviate the guilt, I begin to text a clarification, that she and I can only be friends, but I’m too late. She buzzes right back.

  Nice to know.

  There is another string of hearts attached to her message, and now I feel like shit. Whatever love I’ve had for Laney is overwhelmed with this heavy sense of loss I’d feel without Claire. Making perhaps the best decision I have in a while, I don’t respond.

  CLAIRE

  “Why the hell did we sign up to do this?” McKenzie asks as we decorate lockers with valentine hearts and messages.

  “Because the money we make from it benefits the school, and we got to put that we were part of Spirit Club on our college applications.”

  “God, it sounds so lame,” she says, sticking tape on the lockers before I press on the card and message our fellow students paid to have sent to their boyfriend or girlfriend, friend or secret crush.

  “It kind of is,” I agree, “but it’s kind of sweet too.”

  “Is that why you told Tyler he better not get you one?”

  I laugh. “Yeah, he kept asking me if I was sure, and I kept telling him he better not. I think he thought it was a test.”

  “James just knows I don’t go for this kind of crap. He knows I’d be more pissed than happy.”

  “That’s why you guys are such a perfect couple.”

  McKenzie gets uncharacteristically quiet after I say that, which leads me to believe something isn’t currently so perfect with them.

  “Is everything okay with you both?”

  She sighs. “Yes… and no. My dad—my bio-dad—has been talking to me about going to Well’s Creek College. Since he’s on the board and all, he said it would be a slam dunk for me to get in, the slam dunk being his words, not mine.”

  “North Carolina, McKenzie? Wow.” I’d always assumed she was going to stick close, either head to WSU or try for Central or even UW with me.