Girl Sent Away

by Lynne Griffin

  Eight years later, the two remaining friends were quiet with each other. Sitting at Biddie’s kitchen table, the only sounds came from Toby chewing in unison with the buzz and bubble of the filter inside the fish tank over by the hutch. Watching the unremarkable guppies make lazy circles around their boxy home, Toby resolved to walk more now that he was faced with free time and great views. He was tired of people checking him out, never in a good way.

  Trying to distract himself with things like food and fish and coastal views wasn’t working. After that Sunday supper at Biddie and Charlie’s, Toby and his wife put their girls to bed. When the girls were tucked in, Toby followed Lorraine into the sunroom where she’d begun tidying up, packing boxes with the toys and books Ava and Poppy would want back in Wellesley. The Sedgwicks would spend yet another Labor Day in bumper-to-bumper traffic, getting home in time for the first day of school.

  “Please talk to me,” Toby said, taking a stack of books from her hands and placing them inside a cardboard box.

  Lorraine busied herself, dusting tables, closing drapes, acting like he wasn’t even there.

  “Okay, I get it,” he said. “I’m not paying enough attention to you and the girls. But you know the Foundation is on the verge of going global. We’re doing great things for whole communities, Rain. It’s not like I’m wasting my time doing something trivial.”

  “Like I am writing poetry and taking care of our family.”

  “God, no. You know I didn’t mean that. Come on.” Toby stood in front of Lorraine, blocking her efforts to fill boxes. “I’ll try harder to be home more.”

  “You’ve said that before.”

  “This time it’ll be different,” Toby said. “My first priority when we get back to Wellesley, is to hire someone to share the workload. Please come with me on the trip. Let me show you I can change. At least promise me you’ll think about it.”

  Toby’s head pounded as he went back over things, sitting across from Biddie. Her eyes were on him, and as a result he felt tension spread down his neck and across his shoulder blades.

  Biddie slapped another piece of cranberry bread on his plate. “You want to know what people are saying about you and Ava being back?” she asked. “That she got in some kind of trouble, and you couldn’t handle her.” Biddie nipped a corner of her bread and popped it in her mouth.

  “I’ll always be the bad guy up here, huh?”

  “It’s Maine,” she said. “Everybody talks, no judgment.”

  Toby laughed. “You don’t believe that for one second. If Charlie were here, he’d say ‘Once a summer person always a summer person.’”

  “And if Lorraine walked through that door, she’d say you were never a bad guy.”

  If only Lorraine would walk through that door. “Jesus, Biddie,” he said. “I’ve made a mess of things.” Toby threw his napkin down on the table. “Everybody told me the same thing. That Ava’s being out-of-control had nothing to do with what happened. She was drinking, doing dangerous things, and I was out of my league. So I sent her to a place her teachers and one of my colleagues swore by. What a disaster. I went up there for the parent weekend and I knew Ava didn’t belong there. Next thing I know I’m driving here.”

  Biddie didn’t say anything. Toby was glad she didn’t fill the air with platitudes the way Jill so often did. Jesus, Jill. He’d forgotten to tell Ava this morning that she was driving up with files from the office and things from home for her. Would he never learn? He’d been back in Maine less than forty-eight hours, and already he was repeating history, bringing work—with all its baggage—to Herrick House.

  “You must’ve come back for a reason,” Biddie said, refilling her mug.

  “I don’t have a clue what I’m doing. The girl needs a mother or a counselor. Probably both. I think she’s starting to remember the whole damn thing.”

  “No one can replace Lorraine. I’ll give you credit for not having done that already. But for chrissakes, tell me the details and then send Ava over here and I’ll fill her in. After we talk, I’ll put her to work in the garden. A little real work might do a Sedgwick good.”

  No surprise Biddie wanted to know exactly what happened; it was like her to ask straight out. But Toby couldn’t risk anyone else knowing the whole story before his own daughter. He’d tried a few times to open up to Ava about that day, but she looked so fragile, so cut off from him. He couldn’t bring himself to do it. Things were getting better between them by inches, not miles. He needed Ava to trust him again. He’d need to be patient and wait for the right time.

  “I don’t know how long you’re sticking around, but I got a friend who works with kids in Bucksport, if you want to go that route.”

  Biddie reached over to grab a pen and notepad off her cluttered countertop. After scribbling down a name and number, she tore the paper from the pad and handed it to Toby. “My gut tells me it’s okay for her to talk about it,” she said, looking wistful. “Maybe it’s time everyone did.”

  The minute Biddie finished speaking her piece, Toby knew she was right. He’d known as much after a few hours at Mount Hope. Even though, all along, Ava knowing every detail was exactly what terrified him.

  Biddie got up and started clearing the table. “Look, unless you got something else to say, I got work to do ’round here.”

  He picked up his dishes and brought them to the sink. Thanking Biddie, he walked onto her back porch. Toby paused making a mental note to pay James a little extra to put a fresh coat of paint on those damn railings.

  TWENTY-THREE

  Toby stood outside Bucks Harbor Market but he wasn’t taking in the boats lolling about, moored in rows to the dock. He wasn’t people-watching hoping to see a blast from his past. There was no need to run through the checklist in his mind. Between yesterday and today, his errands were done. The groceries were in the backseat, the phone and Internet scheduled to be hooked up at Herrick House tomorrow; he even felt good about reconnecting with his old friend. Though after talking with Biddie, Toby regretted asking Jill to come to town. For some reason, she set his daughter off, and he couldn’t jeopardize the progress they were making. It had only been hours ago that Ava and Toby had had a minor breakthrough.

  Last night after supper, he’d been sitting in the sunroom reading the paper when he heard creaks coming from the back stairs.

  “Hi honey, you feeling better? Sure are catching up on your rest.”

  “I wasn’t sleeping. I’m playing around with some lyrics.” Ava turned her back to him to browse the sparsely lined bookshelves next to the fireplace. Her delicate finger slid up and down the spines.

  “I’m glad you like it,” Toby said. “The journal, I mean.”

  “I do. Have you seen that small tan book with the palm tree on the cover? It was Mom’s.” Ava paused after referring to her mother. “I want to know who wrote the poem ‘One day I’ll swim, beside your boat, something, something sweet sixteen’?”

  Toby suddenly felt guilty for packing up the best volumes. If it weren’t so late, he could’ve shown Ava where he’d put the rest of Lorraine’s poetry collection. Instead he got up from his chair and moved next to her, hoping what he did have to offer wouldn’t send her back to her room. He reached up to the highest shelf and pulled down a hardback book, its ratty cover frayed top and bottom. “How about this one?” he asked, handing it over.

  His daughter flipped it opened, revealing page after page of colored crayon shapes. Sketches of rainbows and tulips, rudimentary shapes of birds and suns, a bunny popping out of a black hat. “Mom was really pissed at me when I drew in here,” she said.

  “No, honey. Poppy did this. Your mom was upset with her, not you. She couldn’t believe that your six-year-old sister didn’t know any better, that Poppy thought it was okay to color in one of her treasures. That night after dinner, she was sent to her room without dessert. We found you on the back stairs sneaking Poppy a bowl of ice cream.”

  “So Mom wasn’t mad at me? I don’t remember it l
ike that.”

  “When you mentioned it in one of your letters, I thought as much. But I’ll bet you remember that Bucks Harbor Market has the best black raspberry in town. That’s still your favorite, right? We could go now, if you want to.”

  Ava closed the book, holding it tight to her chest. Toby could see her knuckles turn white from squeezing it. “Yeah,” she said. “Okay.”

  Toby grabbed his keys before Ava had the chance to change her mind. Even if all they talked about was scenery and town gossip, it would be a start.

  One day later, Toby stood outside Bucks, well aware he was about to screw things up. Yet again. He needed to call Jill’s visit off.

  He could meet her on the main road to explain his dilemma. Ava was on edge and he didn’t want to upset her. Toby dialed Jill’s cell.

  “Hey, where are you?” Toby asked, barely able to hear her. Her responses all broken up.

  Given when he’d last spoken to Jill and where the signal usually got lost on the trip, he tried to figure out where she might be.

  “—house,” Jill said.

  “About that. Can you hear me?”

  Toby waited and listened, but all that came through was choppy speech. All he could make out was the word there. And then, already there.

  How the hell did she get up to Maine so fast? Toby got back in his car and raced home, slowing down only on the stretches of single-lane road where cops liked to hide.

  Jill’s car was in the driveway, but when he came through the front hall, he didn’t hear a single sound. Entering the kitchen, he didn’t see a thing out of place. It wasn’t until he threw his jacket over the back of a chair that he saw them. Jill was sitting in the sunroom staring at Ava. His daughter was turned toward the window.

  “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you flew here instead of drove,” Toby said, looking at Jill, forcing a laugh. Ava held her arms tight; her legs were crossed too. With one foot swinging, her child-size flip-flop made a slapping sound. It might’ve been Morse code for I-hate-you-Dad.

  “We appreciate you bringing everything up here,” Toby said to fill the void. “Ava and I are going to stay put for a while. I knew she’d want some of her things. Especially her guitar.” Toby hoped the mention of his daughter’s music might help her to lose the attitude.

  “How long?” Ava and Jill said in unison. They’d both turned their heads so fast in his direction he wouldn’t have been surprised if one of them got whiplash. His daughter might have had the hint of a smile on her face. Jill most certainly did not.

  “For once in my life, I’m going to play it by ear. Ava, will you get the groceries out of the car? Jill and I need to talk a little business. Then I’ll make some dinner for the three of us.”

  Toby felt less ambivalent than he thought he would in their presence. After all, he was the parent and the boss.

  Ava dragged herself off the couch and sighed as she trudged out of the sunroom, taking the side door to the lawn.

  “Wow, you weren’t kidding. She looks awful,” Jill said, after Ava slipped through the screen door. “I think you’re out of your league up here. Why don’t you let me put you in touch with Becky’s therapist? The woman’s got a practice in Boston right around the corner from the office.”

  Toby could no longer see his daughter which meant neither could Jill. She rose from the couch, smoothed out her tight skirt, and walked over to him, standing by the doorway. “Let me help you,” she said.

  Her voice low and sultry, she caressed his upper arm. With her face inches from his, Toby felt absolutely nothing. Now that he’d made a connection in his mind between her and Biddie, Jill’s delicate cologne and the tasteful blouse ruffled around her breasts, much lower than anything she’d worn to the office, did nothing to entice.

  Toby backed away and circled behind Jill, taking the lone chair next to the couch.

  “I’m in an awkward position here,” he said. “I’m grateful to you for coming all the way up here. But I’m not really sure what’s going on with Ava. Don’t know if I’m doing a single thing right, but something tells me I shouldn’t do anything to mess with our routine. I’ve booked you a room at a terrific B and B in town.”

  “She doesn’t like me.”

  “That’s not true,” Toby said, hoping his face didn’t betray him.

  Situated on the corner cushion of the couch, as close to Toby’s chair as was physically possible, Jill slid her hand a little too high on his thigh. Jesus, if Ava came back now, the gap he’d been slowly closing between them would crack wide open.

  “You give Ava a lot more power over your life than I think you should,” Jill said. “What I learned when Becky was at Mount Hope was that I needed to be her parent, not her friend. I hate seeing you make the same mistake I did.”

  “Look,” Toby said, taking her hand and putting it back on her own knee. He was more than a little annoyed to hear the name of that place. “You’ve been a terrific friend to me. I don’t know what I’d do without you at the office. But I’m not in a good place.” Toby stuttered; God, he sounded like he was twelve.

  Jill took a throw pillow from the couch and placed it in front of her, covering her blouse, squeezing the perfect square tight. A hard look replaced her seductive one of moments ago. “Of course, I’m only trying to help,” she said. “No one knows better than I do what a tumultuous time this is for you. Whatever you need me to do. Say the word.”

  “One thing I am certain of is that I need you to keep things running smoothly at the office while I get my family act together.”

  “You’re right, this is a bad time. The focus should be on Ava. I want you to know I’m here for you.”

  “Things are difficult, but that doesn’t excuse my selfishness. I shouldn’t have dragged you up here.” Toby shifted nervously, knowing he needed to be straight with her. “I’m sorry if I’ve sent any signals that I want more than friendship. Ava is my first and, right now, only priority. But it wouldn’t be fair to let you think my feelings are going to change.”

  He was almost through his truth-fest when Jill got up, smoothed out her skirt, and opened her briefcase, pulling a stack of legal documents from it.

  “If you’ll sign these, I’ll be on my way. I really should be heading back.” Jill was all business now, handing him the papers and a pen. He signed one contract after another, torn between looking to be sure they were the same projects he’d endorsed via phone and trying to think of something kind to say, a more effective way to apologize. He wondered if Jill would stand by him work-wise. He couldn’t blame her if she quit. He could see now, that he’d been complacent where she was concerned. Self-centered. He had enjoyed their easy way with each other at the office; their dinners after work were pleasant enough. Still, everything he’d told Ava about Jill remained true. He didn’t care for her in a romantic way. They weren’t dating now, nor would they ever be. So why did it feel as though he’d just broken things off with her?

  His cell phone rang inside his shirt pocket, making him scribble a stray line across one of the contracts. He checked the number, and though it wasn’t one he recognized, he answered it. He mouthed sorry to Jill.

  “Toby Sedgwick?” a woman asked. Her voice was familiar, though he couldn’t quite place it. “I met you at that hellhole. It’s Nan McEttrick.”

  The call went in and out. Regardless of the poor signal, he wouldn’t have been able to hear anything over the racket Ava was making in the kitchen, dropping grocery bags, slamming cabinets. Toby had no idea if Nan could hear him either.

  “Mine got more bars over there,” Jill said, her mouth tight, her words terse. With a forceful gesture, she pointed out of the sunroom. Anybody looking on would’ve thought she was ordering Toby out of his own home. Conversely it was a good sign, her offering him even a minimal assist under the circumstances. He hadn’t botched things completely.

  He started walking toward Ava. “Listen,” he said to Nan, “I’m going to hang up. Give me five minutes and I’ll call you
back from my caretaker’s landline.”

  Toby ended the call as he stepped into the kitchen.

  Late afternoon sun streamed in through the window overlooking the Reach, outlining Ava in light. She had Toby’s leather jacket over her arm. Standing there so still, she reminded Toby of all the times she’d played freeze-tag with Poppy.

  In one hand Ava held the key to the attic, in the other she gripped a slip of paper. He froze too when she turned it around to show him. Bordered in blue, the run-of-the-mill name tag Mallory had given him had a crease down the middle, its edges crumpled from living for two days in Toby’s jacket pocket.

  Written in black Sharpie, it said, Get us out before someone dies.

  TWENTY-FOUR

  It was Mallory’s handwriting for sure. Ava had watched her bunkhouse roommate write in her Mount Hope workbook enough times to recognize it right off. It gave her chills to read those words scratched out on that slip of paper. Her dad looked like he was going to steal one of her moves, ending up on the floor. Ava pulled out a kitchen chair and motioned for him to sit. There was no way he’d be in for an easy landing.

  “Mallory’s fine,” she said. “I called the hospital in Plattsburgh a few hours ago. She’s in stable condition.” As soon as Ava said it, she felt less confident than when she’d been talking to the nurse, surrounded by James’s artwork. She’d been so glad to find out Mallory was alive that she didn’t stop to think about what that sentence meant.

  “That’s good, right?” she asked.

  Her dad nodded, reaching out to take the name tag. Ava couldn’t tell if he was saying yes to her question, or if he was onto her. “You know her, don’t you?” he asked. “You lied to the detective.”

  He bent over, putting his head as close to his knees as it would go.

  That’s when annoying Jill came in. Ava wasn’t about to spill things in front of her. Why did she have to butt in, especially up here in Maine? Wearing that stupid blouse and enough perfume for three people, could she be any more obvious that she was after her dad and his money?