Toby recognized an older boy by the registration area. He was one of the students who’d helped with the parent session. “This is bullshit. Such bullshit,” the boy said. With each swear, he kicked the desk.
Hurrying over to him, Toby interrupted the boy by touching his shoulder. “Where can we find Arthur McEttrick?” he asked.
“Locked up, man. Good luck getting him out now.”
Nan came up behind Toby. “Please tell us where he is.”
“I know where he is.”
Toby and Nan turned to find Mallory standing there. She pulled Nan by the sleeve. “Come with me.”
“You’re a snitch, Mallory,” the boy shouted. “Don’t think I won’t tell.”
“Hurry. This way,” she said.
Toby couldn’t take his eyes off the shaved patch on the girl’s head, and the gash, a thick red rope around one ear. He’d been told she’d been discharged from the hospital, but never imagined she’d be sent back here.
Checking over her shoulder, Mallory seemed to be as much running toward something as away from something else.
“Is Arthur okay?” Nan asked.
“I haven’t seen him in a bunch of days. But I know where he is, and who has the key.”
Toby and Nan followed Mallory down the corridors off the main lobby, beyond the conference room where they’d spent the weekend getting chastised for being horrible parents. Past the session room he’d sat in with Ava—the place where he’d almost been duped into believing that they were in counseling, and that his daughter wanted to stay.
The door to the director’s office was open. Inside, two police officers were loading more files into boxes.
Toby thought he was seeing things when Ava’s counselor, Honor, started placing cuffs on Justice.
“What are you doing?” Nan asked.
Toby still couldn’t comprehend why Mallory was back, never mind why one counselor would be handcuffing another.
“Detective Cass Logan,” Ava’s counselor said. “Excuse me while I take great pleasure in arresting this lowlife.”
“I want a lawyer,” Justice said, spit collecting on the sides of his mouth.
Mallory’s feet were glued to the office threshold. Toby had the urge to protect the girl somehow, though she was doing a terrific job all on her own. He could see she refused to look anywhere near Justice. But he kept staring at her, as if by sheer will he could pull the girl’s eyes toward him.
“Miss McEttrick needs to find Arthur,” Mallory said.
“Kid’s a loser,” Justice said.
Nan looked like she was about to belt him.
“Where’s the boy?” Toby said.
The detective held Justice by one arm as another officer moved in to restrain his other side. It was time to get him out of the office, and still she was holding him back. The officer had no intention of walking Justice by the girl.
“Take them to OP,” Cass said, tossing a set of keys to Mallory. “Tell any kids you see on the way to go straight to the lobby and wait for their parents, or stay with the officer they’ve been assigned to. No one leaves the camp without talking to me. I want a record of where everyone lands.”
Toby couldn’t tell if she was playing Mount Hope staff member or had assumed her official duties.
“God, what a mess,” she said. “This was supposed to go down smoothly. Someone leaked the investigation to the press, and now it’s pandemonium.”
“Do you know if Arthur’s okay?” Nan asked.
“Like I said in my note, he’s going to need a hospital. This place has been real rough on him.” Cass Logan stared at Justice with hate in her eyes.
“You left the note? I thought you did,” Nan said, pointing to Mallory.
A puzzled look crossed Cass’s face.
“I passed a note to Mr. Sedgwick during the parent session,” Mallory said. “Telling him to get us out. I was sure Justice found out I did it and I was headed to OP. That’s why —” As Mallory reached up to cover her ear, Nan put a hand on her shoulder to calm her.
“Mallory, I’m sorry,” Cass said. “I did my best to protect you kids from inside. I worked as fast as I could to collect enough evidence, not just to get Pax arrested but to bring the whole place down.”
“It’s no use,” Justice said. “You can close Mount Hope, but Pax has partners. They’ll just find a way to open another camp, and name it something else.”
Cass pulled Justice’s hands tighter behind his back. “Look, I’ve got to get this piece of crap out of here, and make rounds. There are a few high-risk runners I don’t want to get lost in the shuffle. You’ll be okay with Arthur?”
After agreeing to touch base with Cass before they left the lodge, Toby and Nan looked to Mallory. The girl couldn’t get out of the office fast enough, exiting the back door, moving toward a low building at the edge of a trail leading up the mountain. Toby fell behind. Rocks and tree roots made it difficult for him to navigate the narrow path. Nan and Mallory were practically running. Toby’s knee touched down as he tried to get out of the way of a hefty girl with oily hair. He leaned on a nearby tree for support.
“Hey, Mallory,” the girl called out. “Did Justice really get arrested?”
“Yeah,” she said, pausing to wait for Toby.
He wondered how many of the students knew that Honor was undercover. Toby waited to see if Mallory would be the one to send the rumor spreading around the mountain.
“Your parents coming?” the girl asked.
“Nah, I’m transferring. To Narrow Lake.”
“Good luck with that,” the girl said. “Gotta be better than this place.” She backed away from Mallory like she had a contagious disease, then turned and lumbered in the direction of the lodge.
Nan stopped in her tracks when she heard Mallory say she was moving to another facility. It hadn’t occurred to Toby that not all the kids would be going home. Guilty as he was of being blind to Ava’s problems, what kind of parents looked at that poor girl’s scalp, heard what went on at Mount Hope, and didn’t drop what they were doing to come rescue her?
“Do you want me to call your mom and dad?” Nan asked. “I could explain things.”
“Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine,” Mallory said. She wiped her eyes with the hem of her orange T-shirt. “Come on, Arthur’s in here.” She opened the door to a darkened hallway.
It took a few seconds for Toby’s eyes to adjust. The metal door straight ahead was closed; a heavy padlock hung from its hinges. Mallory fiddled with one key after another until she found the one that fit. Unlocked and opened, the room was no brighter than the hall they were standing in.
“Arthur, your aunt’s here. To take you home,” Mallory said in a low voice. She wore the same clunky boots Ava had stuffed in her wastebasket back in Maine. Gingerly, the girl placed one step after careful step on the concrete floor, making her way toward a shape lying on a bare mattress.
“Nan can fly,” Arthur said.
The thin shadow moved abruptly, pressing his back to the wall. Even from the doorway, Toby could see the boy was a wreck.
“I’m here. We’re getting you out now.” Nan’s voice cracked with every word.
“Let’s take it slow.” Mallory kneeled to one side of Arthur, hooking her arm under his. Nan did the same on his other side. She, too, was tentative with him, acting as though he were a frightened rabbit.
“I want to go. But I can’t,” he said, shaking his head, pointing at the door. As Arthur scrambled toward the wall again, he banged his head. That’s when it occurred to Toby: the boy was alarmed by his male shadow standing in the entranceway.
“I’m Ava’s dad. Do you remember her?”
“Ava needs to be saved.”
“No, kiddo,” Nan said. “Ava’s dad took her home already. She’s in Maine.”
“You’re not Justice?” he asked Toby.
“Justice is gone,” Mallory said, helping the boy up. “Outside you can see everything clearly. Come on.”
/>
Toby took this as his cue to move out of the building, to wait for them on the trail in the sunlight. He couldn’t blame Arthur for being afraid. Poor Nan. How was she ever going to help him? He seemed so much worse off than Ava, or even Mallory. When Cass Logan had suggested Arthur needed a hospital, Toby had been foolish enough to think dehydration or broken leg. Now it registered that the police officer masquerading as a counselor had meant a psychiatric hospital. If a place like McLean in Belmont were right for the boy—and Toby wasn’t convinced that it was—would Nan be strong enough to leave Arthur somewhere else, again?
Mallory, Nan, and Arthur came into the light. It was painful to watch the boy tremble at the sight of Toby standing there. God only knew what Justice and Pax had done to him. Toby shuddered then, wondering exactly what they might have done to Ava.
At that horrid thought, everything went hollow and dark inside. Toby didn’t mean to be selfish, but suddenly he needed to be with his daughter. He couldn’t get back to Maine fast enough. He didn’t know how he would do it, if Nan decided not to fly.
THIRTY-THREE
The visit to Biddie’s counselor friend reminded Ava of her one-on-ones with Honor back at Mount Hope. The rocking chairs, the boxes of Kleenex everywhere, the ceaseless questions. Here in Blue Hill, the session didn’t take place on a cabin porch. No one escorted her unwillingly by her pants. Ava walked in all by herself, through one private door and fifty minutes later, out another. This time, it was her choice to go.
Ava didn’t really get why people called psych doctors shrinks. Sure, she’d been a little leery, not certain she’d be able to look at things more closely. Ava wanted to be a regular kid with no reason to be there. But after rehashing as much as she was ready to talk about, her head didn’t feel any smaller. Her mind felt open, less cluttered. Her thoughts a little clearer.
When Ava landed back in the waiting room, Biddie was there, pretending to read a magazine. “Sarah’s nice, huh?” she asked, popping up out of her seat, tossing the Time back on the side table.
“She’s okay.”
It had been a relief when Biddie offered to drive her to the appointment. Even though James probably would have, that didn’t mean Ava wanted him to. She wished Biddie could’ve stayed put in her car or used the time to do errands.
“Did you make another appointment?” she asked.
“Yeah.”
“When’s that?”
“I wrote it down.”
“Okay, I get it. You don’t want to talk.” Biddie jingled her keys in her coat pocket.
“You want to grab a coffee?” Ava asked.
“That’d be nice. Feel up to making a couple stops here in town first?”
Ava wanted to go meet James but didn’t say so. She stood without moving. It was a trick she’d learned at Mount Hope.
“Won’t take long,” Biddie said. “I think you’ll say the detour was worth it.”
Biddie drove the single-lane road while Ava stared out the window. Gullies brimmed with wildflowers, the mountain crest stood mighty in the distance. Blue Hill was right out of a storybook.
“That sculpture there is the first one James did,” Biddie said, slowing down as much as she could with the string of cars trailing behind them. The ghost bike was parked in the grass on a carpet of blue violets.
“James told me about his cousin. Your nephew,” Ava said, turning back to look at the artwork for as long as she could before the car started going full speed. In the last second, she noticed a plaque that read: bobby carmichael.
“Can you believe nothing happened to those hooligans who tormented that dear, sweet boy? I hope their consciences never let them rest,” Biddie said.
“Wait, James’s cousin was Buggy Carmichael?” Poppy and Ava played with a boy off and on one summer, but she hadn’t put things together till now. The boy she knew wore thick glasses with a string holding them around the back of his head. Like the goggles James wore when he was working, they made his eyes look three times their normal size. He looked really funny when he rode his bike like crazy down the lane.
“Don’t let James hear you call him that. Any kind of teasing, no matter how little, sends that boy over the edge. Can’t say I’m one for nicknames myself. I’ve hated mine my whole life. It’s an old lady’s name. Though I suppose the older I get —”
For the first time, it really hit Ava how nicknames could hurt. “Sorry,” she said. “About your nephew. I don’t know why I called him that.”
“Don’t worry. You and Poppy were always real nice to Bobby whenever he spent time at our place.” Biddie reached over to pat her knee. “We’ve known far too much tragedy, you and me.”
Ava was quiet for the rest of the trip, not being one who liked to discuss all the catastrophes she’d been introduced to. A few miles down the road, Biddie pulled into a parking lot. The funky red barn had the words music library on a carved wood sun that hung above the door.
“This place is famous all over the world for lending sheet music. Want to go in?” Biddie asked.
“Are you kidding? Can I?”
“Open weekdays, ten to four. Go ahead.”
Ava had never seen anything like it. Rows and rows of bins housed music cataloged by style and period. The place smelled of old paper and wood. A tabby cat curled up by a window, her eyes closed against the streaming sun.
Choral works. String quartets. Madrigals. Motets. Ava wasn’t much interested in chamber music, but the library was impressive all the same.
“Can I help you find something?” a woman asked, from behind the counter.
“I’m a singer and I play guitar.”
“Classical or contemporary? I’m Mary, by the way.” She stuck her hand out to shake Ava’s as she came down off the raised platform. “Welcome to Bagaduce Music Lending Library.”
“Contemporary, I guess.” It was a wonderful kind of overwhelming, standing in the company of thousands of notes waiting to be played. Ava could’ve stayed there all day.
Biddie hung by the window, stroking the cat’s back. The tabby lifted her head, nestling into her hand.
“Let me show you to that section,” Mary said. “Do you like folk or popular? Maybe both?”
The works of artists Ava had never heard of, and some she had, were cataloged alphabetically. Ava hummed softly as she turned the pages, reading the music. Amazed by how much of it she could play, Ava wanted to borrow the whole bin.
Biddie was patient and Mary helped Ava choose good pieces to start with. “You can come back anytime you like. The music isn’t going anywhere. Well, out and back in. After all, we are a library,” Mary said, laughing at her own joke.
After Ava opened a membership and logged out the things she wanted to borrow, she thanked Mary and left.
The door to the barn wasn’t even closed before, clutching the music to her chest, she hugged Biddie.
“You’re welcome, sweetie. Imagine the likes of Copland and Bernstein, even Mr. Yo-Yo Ma, having a hand in getting the library off the ground.”
“I can’t believe it’s right near Herrick House,” Ava said. “I never knew this kind of place existed.”
“There’s something else you may not know about. Up for one more stop?”
Biddie could’ve taken Ava anywhere after clueing her in to the music lending library. “Sure,” she said, climbing into the car and buckling her seat belt in a single motion.
Minutes after passing the Fish Net and Blue Moose restaurants, driving through the historic part of town, Biddie pulled into another parking lot. It was a library kind of day.
“Come with me,” Biddie said.
Ava followed her into the Blue Hill Public Library, by the circulation desk, past the children’s room, through the reference section. The place was pretty with its dark wood shelves, comfy seats and windows galore. Ava stopped breathing when, from the doorway of the alcove, she read a sign that ran the length of the back wall bookshelf.
the lorraine white sedgwick poetry coll
ection.
“Did you do this?” Ava asked, moving into the space, unable to take her eyes off her mother’s name.
Even as she spoke, Ava knew it wasn’t Biddie’s doing.
“Your father can be one exasperating person, and then he’ll do something so nice that it makes everything all right. For a time.”
“When did he do this? Why didn’t he tell me?” Ava thought back to the night she had asked him about one of Mom’s poetry books. The night he’d invited her out for ice cream. Did he try to tell her then? Had she shut him down?
Ava walked up to the bookshelf, sliding a random volume from the stacks.
“Two years after your trip, your dad came to Maine to pack up her things. He asked Charlie if he’d mind being caretaker of Herrick House. Apparently he stopped here to talk to the head librarian about this. Being Maine, a-course, everyone knows everyone. Alice called me the minute Toby left. Said, he’d loaned your mother’s books to get it started, and donated the money to add to it and keep it going. Always was good at throwing the dough around, your dad.”
Ava opened a delicate book by an author whose name was its own poetry. Flipping through pages, she landed on “Myth.”
I was asleep while you were dying.
It’s as if you slipped through some rift, a hollow
Ava could only read two lines before the tears came.
Biddie leaned forward, patting a chair next to hers. “You can talk about it, sweetie. Eight years is a long time to keep things bottled up.”
“I don’t know how. All I remember is in pieces,” Ava said. “You know that kids’ toy, the View-Master? It’s like I’ve got a bunch of separate pictures. There’s one of Poppy on the sand. One of me holding my mother’s hand. It doesn’t matter if I’m wide awake or dreaming, none of them string together right.”
“I remember things too. I helped your mom pack a whole bunch of pretty clothes for that trip. We went shopping for weeks before, picking out bathing suits and those funny things you wrap around yourself a million ways.”
“Sarongs.”
“That’s it. Lorraine had a whole rainbow in that suitcase. ‘Toby’s taking me to paradise,’ she told me.”
Girl Sent Away Page 21