Three Days on Mimosa Lane (A Seasons of the Heart Novel)

by Anna DeStefano

  Mom’s foot was next to Cade’s, resting against his the way she used to when he was little and they’d sit on the floor together to read, and it had seemed like just being with him made her a little happier. And then he was resting his leg against hers, wondering whether this was how she’d always felt when she’d gotten so quiet and wanted to be alone. Like she hadn’t slept in months, the way he hadn’t since Troy shot Bubba. Each night, it got harder to think about anything else when it was dark and there was nothing else to do.

  He couldn’t make it stop.

  He kept seeing Bubba smiling mean down at Troy, and Troy shaking and holding Mr. Wilmington’s gun, and Bubba bleeding, Nate bleeding, everyone but Cade bleeding…

  He yanked his leg away.

  “Nate wanted to tell,” he said. “Just like he stood up to Troy in the lunchroom. He wanted to tell, and we should have, and if we had, none of this would have happened.”

  Bubba was dead. Troy was locked up somewhere. And Cade and Nate and Sally and everyone else from lunch that day could have died, too. And now Cade’s friend hated him.

  His mom squeezed his knee. “And you guys have been keeping this to yourselves, what you found out about Mr. Wilmington that day, because you think you should have stopped Troy?”

  Cade didn’t say anything.

  Nate didn’t either.

  Cade’s mom looked out into the classroom again. Someone else must be out there now, besides whoever had come with her. For a minute she looked like she wanted to run away almost as much as Cade did.

  Then she looked back at him and Nate, all sad-like, trying to smile.

  “Feeling guilty like that has to have sucked big-time,” she said. “I’m so sorry.”

  She was crying, just a little, the way she did when she didn’t want anyone to know. But Cade could always tell when his mom was crying, even when she hid it.

  And she was saying the same thing she’d written to Dad that morning. I’m so sorry… Like it was all her fault, not Cade’s.

  “But you saved us,” he said. She was a hero. He’d always known that, somehow. Only it had made him mad since the shooting, because he hadn’t been a hero when he could have helped Troy and Bubba and everybody. “You and Nate kept Troy from killing the rest of us.” While Cade had stayed on the floor with Sally and tried not to hurl. “Why are you sorry about anything?”

  “That’s how sorry works,” Mom said, sounding less scared, her voice stronger. “You feel bad. You feel sorry. Even if it’s not your fault, you want the bad things to stop, and you feel awful that you can’t make them stop. You have to be careful with feeling sorry, honey. It can take people and time away from you, no matter how hard you try to make the world right again. Especially when you can’t fix what’s wrong, because you didn’t make the bad things happen in the first place. That’s the worst kind of sorry.”

  “Why can’t my parents get that?” Nate pounded his head against the shelves again. “They hate what’s happened. They think they can make it better and make me feel better by pretending everything’s normal again. And by making someone else sorry, like the school board or Mr. Griffin or Ms. Hemmings. My parents just don’t get it.”

  “Probably because you’re not telling them what you need to tell them,” Mom said, “the way you never told me what you wanted to tell me at the playground each night.”

  Cade stared her.

  What was she talking about?

  “I tried,” Nate mumbled. “I thought I could say it to you.”

  What was Nate talking about?

  “Say it to me now, so I can help you. Say it to Cade, so he can help, too.”

  Cade felt himself nodding. He didn’t understand, but he wanted to help. He wanted to stop feeling sorry, and he wanted Nate to get better, and he wanted his friend back, and he wanted to sleep again without seeing Bubba die and Troy crying after he’d shot him.

  Maybe that was why he’d come to school today, too.

  Maybe that was why he’d followed Nate in here, needing to talk to him when he couldn’t talk to anybody else.

  “We’ll do whatever we can,” Mom said. “But you have to tell us what you need first.”

  Cade didn’t remember doing it, but he and his mom were closer to Nate now, almost right next to him, where the closet was darkest.

  “I…” Nate sobbed, like Troy had in the bathroom that day. He was losing it, the way Cade had been trying not to for so long. “I’d rather die than be here…” He wiped at his eyes with both hands, while Cade wiped at his. “I’d rather have died that day, if it means I don’t have to be here now. I can’t. I can’t do this. I don’t care what my parents think will make me better. I just can’t!”

  Chapter Eight

  “Oh my god,” Brian whispered, listening to what was happening in Mrs. Baxter’s supply closet, with Mallory and Pete standing next to him, listening too. The AP and Mrs. Baxter were waiting in the hallway, and Kristen had just answered a call on her cell.

  He’d had no idea.

  None of them had.

  No one in Chandlerville had guessed the awful secret his son and Nate had been keeping, silently torturing themselves with guilt on top of everything else they were going through. No one had been able to get through to either boy.

  Strike that.

  Say it to me now, so I can help you…

  Sam had been there for Nate for weeks, listening even when it sounded as if Nate hadn’t said anything at all. And now she was here for both boys, hurting herself by being back at the school, but staying right where Cade and Nate needed her, for as long as they needed her.

  That’s how sorry works…

  “Do you think…” he started to ask his friends, but he couldn’t finish.

  Did Nate really want to die? Was Cade really feeling the same way his mother always had about 9/11—as if she could have done something to spare her students the loss of their parents, or Cade could have stopped anything that Bubba or Troy had done?

  “How did all of this happen?” he asked. “What the hell are we supposed to do?”

  He’d never been able to get through to Sam, not to the point of getting her completely well. And his son had been feeling the same kind of desperation she had. It had been months, and Brian hadn’t even known what Cade was going through.

  “We’ll make sure they get the help they need,” Mallory promised.

  “And what if there isn’t enough help in the world to make this better?” Brian turned to find Pete’s arm around his fiancée.

  We’ll make sure…

  Neighbors and friends had rallied around Pete not long ago, worried that he and Polly were trying too hard to deal with their grief and pain alone, and that they were failing. All of Mimosa Lane had pitched in to help, and Mallory had turned out to be a godsend. Miracles did happen in some communities. For some people. But not for Sam and Brian. Not in New York and not in Chandlerville.

  They’d tried so hard to be okay here—the kind of okay Sam refused to believe in anymore. Word was getting out about their split. Julia and Walter were caught in the middle. Pete and Mallory were involving themselves even further, for whatever good that would do. While Brian’s estranged wife and traumatized son were sitting on the floor of an elementary school closet, talking with someone else’s child about not wanting to be anywhere ever again.

  “Then for now tell your parents you can’t be at school,” he heard Sam say to Nate. “That you can’t be inside in the middle of the night, and that’s why walking around the neighborhood and meeting me maybe makes things a little better. You don’t have to be anything you can’t be, Nate. But you need to tell your parents why you’re feeling this way. You’ve been keeping a horrible secret, and you have to start talking about it with someone. Both of you do, or you’re going to feel worse and worse until that day in the cafeteria with Bubba and Troy becomes all that you can feel.”

  Would you consider it? Sam had asked Brian about their seeing a therapist together. For us, would
you do it, so some of this can really start to get better?

  We’re fine… he’d answered, just as he had every time since 9/11 that she’d suggested he seek counseling on his own. Just as he had that morning, when she’d tried to explain again what was happening to her. What she believed was happening to them.

  He’d always had enough faith for both of them, he’d insisted. He’d always believed that they were fine, or at least that they soon would be. One day. He’d never wanted to be anything but fine for her or their boys. He’d wanted to give them the very best he could, so their life in Chandlerville could become what he and Sam had dreamed it would be. Meanwhile, his wife had been suffering much more than she’d let anyone know, reliving the same awful day over and over again, no matter how much of a positive spin she’d helped him put on things at home.

  Until it had become all she could feel?

  Well, if it’s not against me, Brian had asked his friend earlier, what is my wife fighting against?

  All along, Sam had still been fighting herself. And he’d enabled that instinct, making it as easy as possible for her not to face the hard things she had to.

  …you have to start talking about it with someone…

  “Oh my God,” he said again.

  “You couldn’t have known,” Mallory responded, as if she knew he was talking about more than not being there for Cade.

  “I didn’t want to know.”

  That morning, he’d screamed at his wife and called her selfish and blamed her for all their problems. Because she’d stopped putting on a show for herself and him and everyone else. Except he’d wanted to keep holding himself together, like he had ever since New York, rationalizing that it was all for her. So she’d get better again. Because maybe he didn’t know how to live any other way.

  He’d been so determined for her to be better, he’d all but driven her from their home with the way he’d bungled her waking up in the hospital. And never once since then had he really listened to his wife without judgment, the way he was now.

  I’m never going to be the Sam you want me to be again.

  Pete’s hand squeezed Brian’s shoulder, steadying him.

  “I don’t want to go home.” Nate sounded like a little boy, instead of the strong young man he was growing into. “I can’t go home, and I can’t be here, and that means… what? Where? There’s nowhere. I’m nowhere!”

  “You’re right here with us,” Sam assured him. “Cade and I are right here with you, just like I’ve been there every night in case you wanted to talk. Especially last night, because I knew how hard this morning would be. And I’m here now, even though school scares the mess out of me just like it did the day of the bake sale, even before the shooting. Cade’s here for you, too, even if you guys have stuff to work out. He’s right here where you need him. And I’m here for both of you. So are Ms. Hemmings and Mrs. Baxter. That’s not nowhere, Nate. You’re never going to be nowhere. We won’t let you be.”

  “His mother’s outside in the hallway,” Ms. Hemmings said softly, stepping to Brian’s side.

  “Keep her there for a little longer,” Mallory suggested.

  “She wants to speak with her son.”

  “Don’t you think it’s a little late for that?” Brian bit out, pitching his voice lower but feeling violent at the thought that a parent could have left her child to suffer in silence the way Nate had been.

  The way Brian had pretty much left Cade without the support he needed. The way his denial had left Sam to fend for herself for so long.

  “I don’t have the authority to keep her away from Nate,” Kristen said.

  “Let me talk with her.” Mallory headed out of the classroom.

  Brian could hear her and Beverly speaking in the hallway, but his mind would process only what was being said in the closet.

  “I can help you talk with your parents,” Sam insisted.

  “Me too,” Cade chimed in. “I’m sorry, Nate. I’m sorry I said not to tell that day. I…”

  “Shut up, okay?” Nate said, sounding more like himself. “It’s not your fault. Bubba was a bully. Troy was a stupid shit. And I didn’t tell, either.”

  “But you tried to stop him,” Cade said. “And I…”

  “You kept Sally safe.”

  “And you kept us all safe.” Cade sounded miserable, and there was something else Brian had never heard before in his son’s voice: shame. His boy was ashamed, the same as Sam had felt all these years, wanting to not be as messed up as she was by what had happened to her.

  “We’re all safe now,” Sam reminded them. “And you both were very, very brave that day. Everyone did what they thought was right. Everyone wishes they’d done more. How do you think I feel, Nate, not stopping Troy before you were shot, or before Bubba was? Ms. Hemmings and the teachers and the rest of the adults in the school—we all wish we could have kept everyone from being hurt, or stopped Troy from doing something so awful. You all could have been killed right in front of us. And I just had to stand there, watching it happen…”

  Sam’s words hiccupped to a halt. The closet grew silent. Everyone in the classroom beyond seemed to be holding their breath. Brian sure as hell was.

  They’d all heard it.

  The panic and anxiety and fear that Sam had never shaken. He’d known to expect it when she’d woken up in the hospital. He’d known she’d be remembering another school and another group of children and another community grieving over a senseless act of violence that never should have happened. He’d tried to reassure her before she could fall apart. He’d tried as hard as he could to hold them both together.

  Only she hadn’t crumbled to pieces this time.

  She’d walked away from him and the optimism that used to make her feel safe, saying she couldn’t take it anymore.

  “Is my mom out there?” Nate asked.

  “I hope so, honey,” Sam said. “She was on her way from work.”

  “She’ll be pissed that I messed up her day.”

  “No, she won’t. She’ll be glad to be here for you. I’m sure she came as quick as she could.”

  “My parents were so happy I was back at school. It’s all they could talk about this morning, especially my mom. All weekend, too.”

  “They were happy you were feeling well enough to try.” Sam sounded as if she were trying to convince herself as much as Nate. “Sometimes we want so much for the people we love to be better, we can’t see that they’re not ready yet. And then people like you and me want to make everyone happy again after we haven’t for a long time. We think it’s our fault everyone’s sad and worried about us. And we don’t speak up when we should, or say how we’re really doing, or make ourselves work through stuff we know we should, because other people are expecting us to be over things already. Trust me, that makes everything harder in the long run and everyone even more upset. Then big days like today that should be good, end up being the worst days of all, when we can’t do what we thought we could, and we know we’re disappointing the people we love.”

  Big days.

  “Jesus.” Brian had to get to his wife. He moved to step into the closet.

  “Don’t.” Pete gripped his arm. “Let her talk.”

  “You don’t understand.” Brian struggled to be free. “I—”

  “We understand,” Mallory said, once more at her fiancé’s side. “We’ve been through this with Polly, dealing with how angry she was at her mother for going away forever. It’s not your fault, Brian. And you can’t fix it right now. Sam wouldn’t want you to try. She wants to do this for Cade and Nate.”

  “If this is stuff she hasn’t been able to say to you in person,” Pete said, “let her talk it out here.”

  Brian stopped trying to pull away. Pete was right. If he interrupted his wife now, it would be because he needed to. He needed Sam to understand that he’d never meant to leave her feeling like she was letting him down because of how badly she still hurt.

  Brian stared into the closet. What w
as it doing to her overtaxed system to be there for Cade and Nate like this?

  You’re such a coward…

  “Do you want me to help you say the things you really need to say to your mom?” she asked Nate.

  There was a long pause.

  “I’ll go with you,” Cade said. “We’ll tell your mom everything. I’ll tell her it was me, not you, who got everyone shot, because I didn’t let us do anything about Troy when I should have. It’s not your fault.” Cade’s voice broke, tearing at Brian’s heart.

  “Neither of you are to blame,” Sam insisted. “And everyone’s here to help both of you. Never forget that.”

  “You’ll… you’ll talk to my mom with me?” Nate asked, just as Beverly and Kristen joined Brian and Pete and Mallory at the closet door.

  “How did it go?” Brian asked Sam.

  She knew he’d stay the rest of the morning, the moment she’d caught sight of him outside the closet, standing with Mallory and Pete. He’d silently followed her and Cade downstairs, where she’d known he’d stay while she and their son finished talking with Nate and Beverly Turner. And there Brian was, calmly waiting outside the conference room Kristen had shown everyone but Brian and Mallory and Pete into.

  Cade had headed back to class after sitting beside Nate while his friend talked with his mother, and Sam tried to help Beverly understand what Nate was saying. Cade hadn’t really looked at Sam again or talked to either her or Brian directly once they left the closet. And as soon as things had started to wrap up in the conference room, he’d split, yelling for her to leave him alone when she’d tried to hug him, and saying he wanted to go back to his class instead of home to Mimosa Lane with Sam or Brian.