by Susan Wiggs
There was a long-distance delay, and then he said, “Babe, I’m so glad you picked up. I know it’s five in the morning there, but I had to let you know I’m okay. I just got off the phone with my dad. There was a big mix-up at the last minute. I wasn’t on that transport...”
She couldn’t speak. She could barely breathe, and she was shaking with relief as Joey explained something about a manifest made out by a staff sergeant and handed off to someone else to be recorded. While boarding the chopper, Joey was injured and sent to the infirmary. “Like an idiot, I didn’t have my goggles on and something flew into my eye. They’re sending me to Germany for surgery.”
“Jen?” Rourke called from the bed. “Who’s on the phone?”
She whirled around to shush him, but it was too late. “What’s Rourke doing there at this hour?” Joey asked, his voice changing, sharpening.
And Jenny knew, in that instant, that Joey had probably been aware for a long time of this thing between her and Rourke. “I asked him to come over the second I heard,” she said. “He’s your best friend. Who else would I call, Joey?”
He didn’t answer. Instead, he said, “I’m being discharged. The Rangers don’t have much use for a one-eyed soldier. I’m coming home.”
She was standing there, still naked and warm from Rourke’s touch, holding the phone when he crossed the bedroom toward her, his hair tousled, his eyes confused. And even now, when she looked at him, Jenny felt a surge of pure helpless lust, mingling with the shame.
And she realized then that she wasn’t going to burn in hell after all. She was already there.
Food for Thought
BY JENNY MAJESKY
On Fire
People like to set things on fire. Admit it, when you see a flaming dessert, you’re impressed. There’s something mesmerizing about the way the flames run like a river and then go out, leaving behind a delicious, unmistakable essence.
There’s a primal attraction to burning things. According to a Polish proverb, fire is never a gentle master. Henry James claims that what is needed is “unrestrained passion, fire for fire.” Which is a little scary, if you ask me, but that just makes this all the more delicious.
BURNING LOVE
8 slices bread
3 cups heavy cream
1 whole egg
3 egg yolks
1-½ cups sugar
½ teaspoon nutmeg
½ teaspoon cinnamon
¼ cup rum
½ cup raisins or currants, steeped for 15 minutes in a cup of very hot water (reserve liquid)
Preheat the oven to 350°F. Dice bread into cubes. Whisk together cream, whole egg, egg yolks, ½ cup sugar, nutmeg, cinnamon, and 1 tablespoon of rum. Combine bread cubes and cream mixture.
Drain raisins and reserve the liquid. Add raisins to bread mixture. Spoon mixture into soufflé cups. Place cups in a baking pan filled with hot water ½ inch deep. Bake until a knife inserted in center of custards comes out clean, about 30 minutes.
Just before serving, combine reserved liquid and remaining sugar in a small saucepan and bring to a simmer, whisking constantly, over high heat. When sugar turns amber, carefully whisk another ½ cup of hot water. Return to a simmer and cook until mixture becomes the consistency of syrup. Stir in remaining rum and return to heat for 15 seconds. Remove saucepan from heat and touch a match to sauce. Pour flaming caramel over puddings and serve.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Daisy was surprised and even somewhat pleased by the way her family reacted to her news. Almost everyone took it in stride. There was no shock and horror. More like sympathy and understanding. Oh, her brother, Max, thought the whole thing was gross and told her she was an idiot, but at his age—eleven—he pretty much thought all girls were idiots. And he did admit the prospect of becoming an uncle was cool.
On the day she had chosen to tell her friends, she awoke to the blinding white beauty of a snow day. Even before she checked the school district’s Web site for closure information, she knew. Snow day. What greater gift could there be? There was something so magical about a snow day—unplanned, an entire day when everything would simply stop, suspended until the roads were cleared. No school. No work. All obligations and appointments canceled, all deadlines extended. Nothing to do except laze around. Instead of squirming through civics, she could sleep in and eat breakfast while watching Dialing for Dollars. Instead of scrambling for an excuse about her undone physics assignment, she could finish it up at her leisure.
She was just about to burrow back under the covers when her cell phone rang. She glanced at the screen and then flipped it open. “What are you doing up? It’s a snow day.”
“Exactly,” Sonnet said, her voice musical with excitement. “Dress warmly, but wear layers. We might be working up a sweat where we’re going.”
Daisy couldn’t help smiling. Sonnet always had some kind of adventure up her sleeve. “What’s up?” she asked.
“Bring your camera,” Sonnet said. “Meet us at the bakery in half an hour. We’re going snowshoeing. Zach’s bringing all the gear.”
It must be a sign, Daisy thought, closing her phone and pulling on insulated underwear. A snow day, and an invitation out of the blue. Maybe today was the day she was supposed to tell them. As she brushed her teeth, she turned sideways and studied her silhouette in the mirror. Her body had been taken over by an alien life force. She vacillated between bouts of nausea and insatiable cravings. Her boobs were tender and getting too big for her bra. Yet her stomach still looked flat and her jeans still fit. She tried to picture herself with a giant belly, but couldn’t imagine it, even now. Still, it was time to tell Sonnet and Zach. Today.
They took Zach’s Jeep up the road to Meerskill Falls. It was plowed now, because Jenny was living up at the lodge. They wouldn’t disturb her though, as the hiking trail led to the head of the falls. The cascade tumbled hundreds of feet down the cave-studded granite cliffs and emptied into a deep pool, quite far from the winter lodge.
Daisy got out of the car and turned her face to the sky. Then she checked to make sure her camera had plenty of power and a big memory disk. There was something about the quality of light in winter that she found both pleasing and challenging to photograph. She loved the contrasting depths, the stark images against the endless white snow, and she’d learned to adjust her light meter and filters to create beautiful pictures even when the light was dull and flat. That wasn’t the case today. The sun had emerged, carving dramatic shadows and textures in the landscape. She took a picture of a birch grove, the slender branches like long strokes of ink against the field of snow. The way the morning light fell over them made the trees glow.
The trail was covered by a season’s worth of untouched snow, and it wasn’t long before they had to put their snowshoes on. Zach had three pairs of high-tech shoes that weighed next to nothing and practically floated them over the snow. It was a funny thing about Zach. His dad, who was way older than most dads, seemed to spend money like there was no tomorrow—although God forbid he should ever leave anything in the tip jar at the bakery. Yet, Mr. Alger had a habit of buying the best, most expensive of everything including cars and clothes and even snowshoes. He was kind of schizoid because then he would lecture Zach about not pulling enough hours at the bakery. Crazy. People ragged on teenagers for acting crazy, but maybe that was only half the story. Maybe they ought to look at the parents for a change.
She tried to picture her kid as a teenager, but the image wouldn’t form. She simply could not fathom the idea that her body could create a life-sized human, let alone one that sassed its mom and got in trouble at school. Still, she vowed she would be a different kind of mom. She’d be best friends with her kid. They’d listen to the same kind of music and she wouldn’t yell about grades and getting into the right school. All that belonged to some far-off someday, though.
At the moment, she needed to worry about breaking the news to her friends.
One thing about snowshoeing, she discovered. It was hard work. Halfway up the trail, she stripped off her parka and tied it around her waist. Then off came her muffler and hat, which she stowed in her backpack. She might have attributed this to a hormone surge, which her pregnancy books talked about, but then she noticed that Zach and Sonnet were trudging along, too, bathed in sweat.
When they reached a footbridge spanning the waterfall at midpoint, she called for a water break. “I have to get some pictures, too,” she added. Last summer, the waterfall had been a raging torrent bursting from its hidden source high above and then hurling itself onto the tumbled rocks far below. Winter had frozen the cascade into blue-green ice that striped the hillside like tall, delicate pillars. Icicles bearded the fringes of the cataract. In the middle, a tall column of ice plunged like a dagger into the frozen pool at the base.
Daisy found amazing angles to photograph. She lay flat on her back to frame the bridge, an old concrete structure with two tall arches spanning the deep chasm below.
“There are rumors that it’s called Suicide Bridge,” Sonnet said. “I’ve heard two tragic lovers jumped off it and killed themselves.”
“Yeah, and you can hear their ghosts wailing on windy nights,” Zach added.
Sonnet sniffed defensively. “This is Washington Irving territory. Ghost stories come with the landscape.”
Daisy took a picture of her friend, whose expression was both annoyed and cute.
As though she felt the attention, Sonnet turned to her. “Hey, what would you say to taking my senior photo? You know, for the yearbook?”
Daisy was surprised and flattered. “Sure, why not?”
“I’d pay you, of course,” Sonnet offered.
Sonnet and her mom had to pinch every penny, saving for college. “I wouldn’t charge you anything,” she said, experimentally framing Sonnet in her viewfinder.
“I would insist on it.” Sonnet’s sense of fairness rose up. “Dale Shirley charges, like, three hundred dollars. I’d have to save up for weeks to afford him.”
Shirley was a busy local photographer whose work adorned the Chamber of Commerce brochures, the annual Christmas calendar they gave away at City Hall and of course, the Avalon High School yearbook. Daisy thought it sounded like a dream job, getting paid to take pictures. “He can charge because he’s got all these credentials and his own studio and stuff,” she said.
“Nah,” Zach said, “it’s because he’s been around forever. I don’t want to use him, either, but my dad will probably make me.”
Zach’s dad was all concerned with looking good for his run for mayor.
“Not if I take a better shot,” Daisy said, and snapped a candid picture of Zach as he contemplated his father. Zach was totally made for the snow, the way a wolf was. His blond hair, smooth clear skin and strangely light blue eyes made him look wild and unearthly.
Sonnet peered over her shoulder, reviewing the shot. “Crazy,” she said. “You’re like the Aryan nation poster boy.”
He tossed a handful of snow at her. It burst into a cloud as it hit her shoulder. “Shut up,” he said.
“You shut up.”
Daisy turned the camera on them both. Sonnet was a willing subject, mimicking a model’s poses. She braced her hands behind her and tilted back her head. Her riotously curly hair escaped the knitted hat, and Daisy had captured the moment, knowing instantly that it was a good shot. Sonnet was not high-school pretty, and she hated her looks, but that was nuts, Daisy knew. Sonnet was gorgeous in ways beyond the grasp of high school boys. She had creamy café au lait skin and long tumbles of tight, inky curls. Her wide mouth and tilted, almond shaped eyes gave her an air of mystery—until she smiled, and then she was as open and friendly as a puppy.
Sonnet let Daisy take as many shots as she wanted. Patient and helpful, she was a good sport about it. Another thing about her—sportsmanship. She had a great attitude about everything. And the funny thing was, of all the kids Daisy knew, Sonnet Romano had the most strikes against her, the most reasons to cop an attitude or fail in school or be a slacker. She was born to an unwed teenage mother, she was biracial, she and her mom barely made ends meet.
Yet despite having the deck stacked against her, Sonnet was a straight-A student who was a year ahead in school. She was a national merit scholar, a talented musician and a kindergarten tutor. She had been accepted by early decision to college, and was awaiting news of a financial package. She was, as far as Daisy could tell, everyone’s dream kid, the sort of trophy child parents could brag about, patting themselves on the back as they took credit for how good she was.
Sonnet was the kind of daughter Daisy’s mom wished she had. Instead, Daisy’s mom got a daughter who didn’t give a shit about school or college, who partied herself into oblivion and got pregnant by a boy she didn’t even like.
“Enough already,” Zach said as Daisy took another series of shots. “You’re going to break the camera.”
Daisy took a picture of his taunting face.
“See those ledges up there?” Sonnet pointed to the overhanging cliffs. “My uncles told me they’re ice caves.” Sonnet had, like, six uncles, who resembled the cast of the Sopranos. “Caves in the hillside that are lined with ice. I read about them in the library archives for a history project last year. Some of the cliffs in the area have these caves with ice so thick it never melts, even in summer. It’s one reason they named the town Avalon.”
Daisy tilted her head to one side. “Okay, you lost me.”
“From the legend of King Arthur,” Zach said. “Merlin’s Crystal Cave. Avalon was the place the High King went after he was mortally wounded in his last battle.”
“I must have missed the memo,” Daisy said. “I don’t know why you guys put up with me. I’m a dunce.” Which was ironic, she thought. She had attended the most competitive, most exclusive school in Manhattan. These two kids went to a run-of-the-mill public school. Yet they both seemed so much smarter than her.
“You’re not a dunce,” Sonnet said.
“You have no idea,” Daisy said, bracing herself. It was time. She had to get it over with. Right here, right now. “I need to tell you guys something,” she said in a rush, letting the words escape before she could chicken out.
They must have sensed the urgency in her tone, because they both gave her their full attention. She hesitated, the way she’d done when she’d told her dad, trying to memorize the way they were looking at her now. She was about to change their perception for good.
“It’s, um, it’s kind of a big deal.” She carefully lowered her camera, felt the weight of it tugging at the back of her neck. “I’m going to have a baby. It’s due in the summer.”
The words fell into a silence so complete, it was like a vacuum had sucked them out of the air. Daisy looked at them, her only friends in this town, and held her breath. She refused to breathe until they spoke, reassuring her that they wouldn’t stop being her friend. For a moment, they just stared at her. Then a red flush crept into Zach’s face and he looked supremely uncomfortable, the way Max had when she’d told him. Sonnet’s eyebrows went up, and then down. “Hey, that is a big deal.”
Daisy nodded. “It’s not the smartest thing I’ve ever done, but it’s done. I was going to, you know, terminate it, but at the last minute I couldn’t. So here I am.”
Zach seemed to find something endlessly fascinating in the hollow of a tree by the bridge. He clearly didn’t want to participate in this conversation.
Finally Sonnet spoke up, sounding a little flustered. “Wow. I mean, wow. That’s unexpected.”
“No shit,” Daisy said.
“Is this why you left your old school?” Sonnet asked.
Daisy shook her head. “I didn’t know. I mean, I wasn’t sure.
”
“Is the baby’s father going to help you out?” A peculiar tension threaded itself through Sonnet’s voice. Daisy knew that Sonnet’s relationship with her father was a difficult one, fraught with secrecy due to his position in the Pentagon.
“I haven’t told him. I haven’t even decided whether or not I will. He won’t be happy, I can tell you that.”
“He should have thought of that when he—when the two of you—”
“True,” Daisy agreed. “We both should have thought of that.”
Sonnet put a mittened hand on Daisy’s shoulder. “You’ll be all right,” she said.
Daisy smiled at her. “That’s the plan. So anyway,” she said brightly, “I got through the ordeal of telling my parents, and...we’ll deal.” She had to believe that, had to believe having a baby was not like falling into an abyss.
The three of them were silent for a while, and Daisy felt a measure of relief. That wasn’t so hard. She figured there would be a period of adjustment, and then they’d go back to the way things were. For a while, at least. After the baby came, she had no idea what would become of their friendship. Zach hadn’t said a word, but she could tell he was embarrassed. His cheeks and ears were red—and not just from the cold—and he averted his eyes. Sonnet seemed to sense the need to move on. She shaded her eyes and studied the cliffs. “My uncles say you really have to look in order to find the caves. And you have to watch for avalanches.”
“My dad told me it’s a complete waste of time,” Zach added. “He said it’s not even worth the trip.”
“Since when do you listen to your dad?” Sonnet asked.
Daisy regarded the hanging cliffs, their silhouettes carving mysterious shapes on the untouched snow. “Let’s go check it out,” she suggested.
“Are you serious?” Zach looked apprehensive.
“She’s right.” Sonnet got up and tapped her snowshoes together. “Look at that blue sky. We should at least go to the top of the mountain, right?”