The Second Mother

by Jenny Milchman

  Julie nodded, recalling her own past classrooms. “I bet it does help with focus.”

  Ellie continued speaking. “Once upon a day, we had twice this many rows of desks, four times even. That was before my time. But now at least you have plenty of room for PE or other activities when it’s not possible to go outdoors.”

  Julie counted in her head. Three rows, eight desks long.

  “But wait, there’s more,” Ellie quipped, circling the stove.

  Julie followed her to the back of the schoolroom.

  A thick velvet curtain, kingly blue in hue beneath a snowy layer of dust, formed a backdrop to the room. Ellie brushed at the cloth, and they both began coughing, Julie laughing at the same time. “A stage?” she said. “I’ve got a stage?”

  That fact outweighed any meager negative she had felt upon confronting the reality that her phone would be as unconnected as a rock all day.

  Ellie finally gave up on her ministrations and tugged the curtain to one side. “Not the biggest one,” she said, gesturing to a short flight of wooden steps that climbed to a platform. “Some of the men built this a few decades back during the down season. It hasn’t happened lately—too small a class, too little interest—but some pretty neat shows were once put on here.”

  “How awesome,” Julie breathed.

  “You a drama nerd?”

  It felt like a recollection from a different person. “Totally,” Julie admitted. “I once wanted to be an actress. Unfortunately, that was a foreign concept to my logger father. It was as if I said I wanted to be a serial killer.”

  Ellie sent her a sympathetic glance, then crouched at the base of the stage. “What this is mostly used for now is storage,” she said, pulling at a ring set into a recessed panel. The panel swung open and Ellie pointed inside. “Tons of space under there and tons of stuff too. You might want to look through it before school starts.”

  “Definitely,” Julie agreed.

  Ellie stood and clapped dust off her hands. She led the way out of the schoolroom, and they emerged into a short hallway. Ellie flicked on a light, pointing to a series of doors.

  “Girls’ room, boys’, and teachers’ bathroom,” she said, striding past each one.

  Julie looked back to check on Depot before catching up.

  They came to a fourth door. “Here’s your break room—no kids allowed.”

  It contained a table, a chair, a small fridge, and a counter with a coffeepot on it.

  Ellie pulled the door closed behind them, and they wended their way along the hall—by Julie’s estimation they now stood behind the stage—until they came to a ladder leaning against a loft.

  “You can get above the stage this way, but it’s also a neat space in and of itself. Teachers have held poetry circles up there, or discussion groups for the older kids.”

  “Cool,” Julie said. “Mind if I go up?”

  “I wouldn’t now,” Ellie replied. “It’s not well lit, and I don’t know what all is up there.”

  “I’ll come back, no problem,” Julie said.

  “I’ll ask one of the men to deal with the light situation,” Ellie said. “It’s always been an issue.”

  “Thanks,” Julie said.

  Ellie grinned at her. “I think that’s it. Your new home away from your new home away from home.”

  Julie smiled back.

  “Oh!” Ellie said. “They told me to make sure I showed you this.”

  She ushered Julie past the opening to the loft, stopping before a bank of filing cabinets. Ellie started pulling open drawers, revealing neat rows of folders. Julie bent down, studying the carefully labeled tabs. Eighth-grade science, eighth-grade math, eighth-grade language arts, eighth-grade human studies. Then seventh grade, sixth, with another set of folders in the drawer beneath, and another below that, then another.

  “On the one hand, lesson plans aren’t computerized, but on the other, you have all this to start from,” Ellie explained. “Going back years, but everything’s updated routinely. Since the students are educated in the same room, they overhear a lot of the other grades’ curricula, and the school board feels this facilitates continuity.”

  “Makes sense.” It would save Julie a ton of work, even sans digital ease of use.

  They roused Depot, then left the schoolhouse, pausing at the library so Julie could check her phone again. Still no text or call from David, although sometime in the last half hour, Tim had left a just-checking-in voicemail. Julie answered it with a row of emojis: a smiley, a boat, and a pencil with books. Then she and Ellie reversed their trip through town, Ellie depositing Julie and Depot at the mouth of the woods. She lived in the sky-blue cottage in the grouping that stood at the crossroads, had pointed it out as they’d trooped past earlier.

  “Sure you’ll be okay?” Ellie asked. “I’d walk you the rest of the way, but I have someone coming over in an hour and nothing besides stale bread for us to eat.” A pause. “She can be a bit of a case, or I’d totally invite you.”

  Julie waved her off. “You’ve been absolutely wonderful, giving me your whole day. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it.”

  “It was fun. Please stop by before school starts. Barge into my house next time!”

  Julie smiled, nodding agreement as she and Depot struck out for the woods.

  When they got back to the house, Julie was surprised at how familiar the place felt already. She fed and watered Depot, then decided to repeat yesterday’s alfresco victuals, helping herself to a whole sandwich this time, and going outside with a blanket for a picnic by the cliff. Depot came and joined her, and they stayed to watch the sun drop and the evening sky turn silver. Julie wasn’t sure how to put a lid on the night. Normally David would be pouring her a drink by now, and the sudden loss of substance, ritual, and company left a void she didn’t know how to fill.

  Julie was used to unfillable voids, however.

  She had just gone back inside with her dishes when she heard a sound that made dinner lurch in her belly. Depot’s stranger bark, a bracing boom. For a supposedly unfriendly island, Julie had received an awful lot of visitors. Or was this the laughing stranger from yesterday who’d refused to show himself, the person who had moved that crib?

  She set her plate and glass on the dining room table soundlessly, following the trail of Depot’s growls till she came upon him in at the foot of the stairs.

  “What is it, Deep?” she whispered. “Someone here?”

  A loud bang and the front door shook in its frame.

  Depot broke into a volley of barks.

  Julie stepped to one side, peering out the window that looked onto the porch.

  “It’s Ellie,” she said, relieved. “It’s just Ellie, Deep. Be quiet.”

  The dog’s barks quieted to a low, throaty vibration. He maneuvered his big body in front of Julie, who leaned past him to open the door.

  “I’m sorry—” Ellie began. She was breathing hard as if she’d run the whole way. “I happened to mention that we were together all day so she knew the house was empty—”

  Julie frowned.

  Depot’s barks grew so frantic that Julie couldn’t hear whatever Ellie said next.

  Then a woman came out of the woods, crossing the scrubby front yard in a twisting, weaving dash. Her long legs made fast work of the trip, and in the next instant, she had scaled the porch steps. The sharp cheekbones of her face stood out like blades, her mouth wrenched sideways. As she stared at Julie, her eyes went wide; she appeared to be in a state of true terror.

  “Tell me,” she pleaded. “Is my son here?”

  Chapter Nineteen

  “I don’t—” Julie began. “I’m sorry, I have no idea what you—”

  Ellie pushed inside, dropping a bag on a table in the hall before stretching out a hand in the direction of the woman. It wasn’t clear whether she in
tended to offer comfort or hold her back. The woman ignored the gesture anyway, whirling around on the front porch and squinting to look through the dark.

  Depot’s barks increased in volume, so loud and bruising that Julie, who considered herself relatively good with out-of-control parents, couldn’t begin to formulate a plan of approach. She leaned down and grasped the dog’s collar, then began towing him upstairs. It was slow going, given Depot’s resistance; Julie had to stop on each step and knee the dog upward. She’d only had to do this a handful of times before in his life, all of them just after he had come to live with her and David.

  Out of breath at the top of the stairs, Julie strained to shove open the bedroom door with one hand, keeping hold of Depot’s collar with the other. She dragged the dog into the room, his barks blotting out the sound of her exertions.

  “Just for a few minutes,” she panted, squeezing herself past Depot’s body to reach the door again. “While I figure this out.”

  Depot turned a look on her that held only one thing. Blame.

  Wincing, Julie pulled the door shut.

  She ran back downstairs.

  The woman had entered the house and was stalking between rooms uninvited. She came to a stop in front of Julie, hands squared on her hips. Julie was by no means short, but this woman topped her by a good half foot, a queen beside a pawn. She had a light-colored froth of curls, past blond to pure white, and long enough to settle on her shoulders. Her hair must have changed color prematurely, for her skin was unlined.

  The distress in her features had softened somewhat, though when she spoke to Julie, her tone still sounded imploring. “He isn’t here?”

  The teacher in Julie rose to the fore, and a sense of command descended. “Your son is missing?”

  All the rigid fear in the woman’s form seemed to drain. “Yes,” she said bleakly.

  Julie took the woman by the hand. “Come into the kitchen,” she said, leading her.

  As soon as they entered the room, Julie spotted her empty. Luckily, the woman remained too distraught to notice, her unfocused gaze flitting about. Julie quickly stowed the bottle in a cupboard, removing a glass to camouflage her action.

  Upstairs, Depot still hadn’t stopped barking. Either this woman or the move to the island had really thrown him; he hadn’t behaved like this in years.

  Ellie came in while Julie was filling the glass with water, but the woman waved the offering away.

  “Why did you think your son was here?” Julie asked her.

  The woman gave a sharp jerk of her shoulders, twin humps beneath her sleeveless silk shirt. “He despised the old teacher. Perhaps he came to see if the new one would be any better.”

  No pressure, Julie thought.

  The woman turned on her accusingly, and to ward her off, Julie resumed her questioning. “Tell me about your son. How old is he? What’s his name?”

  “Peter’s eleven,” she said. “But he’s tall for his age. He looks older.”

  Julie nodded again. “I’m afraid I haven’t seen anyone here since I got home this afternoon,” she said. “And as you can probably guess”—she gestured toward the ceiling—“Depot’s a pretty good watchdog. He would’ve alerted me. So let’s think where else Peter may’ve gone.”

  The woman lifted the water glass Julie had left on the counter, and sipped. There was a remote elegance to her, which grew more apparent with the departure of emotion.

  “He doesn’t really have friends, does he?” Ellie, who had been silent till now, posed the question more bluntly than Julie would have. It seemed likely to set the woman off again.

  But she seemed unfazed. “Peter’s a loner, as you know. And he’s not allowed to wander off unattended. He certainly wouldn’t be at another child’s house right now.”

  She glared at Julie with a bright-blue gaze. It was unnerving to see such youthful eyes surrounded by all that white glowing hair. The woman’s features were disjointed, at odds with each other, and the effect on Julie was to make her feel off-kilter as well, as if she might actually be to blame for something.

  “Let’s take a look around outside,” she suggested. “It’s a big piece of land. Maybe my dog missed something.”

  Upstairs, Depot had finally stopped barking. The woman gave Julie a look as if to say that was all the proof she needed.

  The three of them headed out, Julie turning back last and making sure that the front door had been left not just unlocked, but unlatched.

  * * *

  They circled the house, and as they neared the cliff, a pit of fear lodged itself in Julie’s stomach. The water lay as flat as a gray flannel blanket, although Julie was learning that even the mildest sea sounded restless, surging against the base of the rocks. The woman and Ellie took out their phones, turning on flashlight apps and shining them along the length of the cliff. The woman’s hand flapped like a bird’s wing, making the light shoot up and down. Julie reached out to steady it, peering over the edge herself.

  “Look!” Ellie cried.

  She was facing the house. Aiming her light, Ellie pointed upward. A widow’s walk enclosed a section of roof, and in the center stood the outline of an upright form.

  “Peter?” the woman shouted. “Peter!”

  Although it was hard to be sure in the dark, the person—small enough to be a tall child—looked as if he were leaning against the run of lacy iron fretwork, staring down at the thirty-foot drop to the ground.

  Julie sucked in her breath.

  In the dark and up so high, all motion looked herky-jerky, like an animated reel flipped by hand. But the person appeared to be lifting his leg. Then his other leg. He now stood on the open border of roof outside the widow’s walk.

  Chapter Twenty

  Ellie turned to the woman, speaking low and under her breath. “What’s the best way to get Peter to do what you tell him?”

  The woman upturned her palms. “Who can say anymore? It’s like he’s become a different child since he turned eleven. He’d probably jump just to spite me.”

  It was the plaintive wail of every parent of a tween, whether the child stood at the lip of a perilous fall literally, or only figuratively. Julie spoke up abruptly. “Go in through the house and ask Peter if you can join him. But say you need his help getting out there.”

  Rage drove the woman’s frame erect. She lunged in Julie’s direction, hurling words like spears, while her white curls swung back and forth across her shoulders. “What good will that do? Peter will still be on the roof. Oh my Lord! Do you have any idea what will happen if my mother finds out—”

  Julie shot a quick look upward. The boy didn’t appear to be making any moves, drawing closer to the edge. There was a bated quality to his position, as if he were waiting for something. “Listen to me. An eleven-year-old needs to feel like he can do adult things. Acting worried about his safety and giving Peter an order will accomplish the exact opposite. We’ll have a rooftop standoff—have to send for some volunteers from town with a net or something.”

  The woman looked as if Julie couldn’t have come up with a more outlandish prospect if she’d suggested launching a rocket to get Peter down. Her features knit together with both fear and disbelief.

  “Please,” Julie said. She looked up again. The child still hadn’t budged from his spot. Arms thrust behind him, grasping two finials of fence in his fists, while the rest of his body canted forward. “Trust me. When Peter comes to lead you, or take your hand or whatever, tell him you’re scared of heights and ask if he’d mind coming back inside.”

  The woman looked at Ellie, who nodded. “It’s worth a try. She is a teacher.”

  “We’ll come with you,” Julie offered. “You said Peter might be interested in meeting the new teacher.”

  “I certainly didn’t say he was interested.” But the woman turned and marched off.

  The widow’s w
alk was accessed through a panel in the ceiling of the third bedroom. Julie and Ellie clustered at the foot of a ladder, which could be drawn down or folded up, while the woman started to climb. At the top, she turned back to look at them.

  “Say something like ‘That’s a cool spot,’” Julie whispered. “You’d like to see it, too. Can he show you how he got out there?”

  The woman repeated the words in a stilted tone, like an amateur actor, while Julie peered up through the opening. Without apparent regard for his distance from the ground, Peter performed a sideways vault over the fretwork, landing in a crouch inside the fence-rimmed space. Jumping to his feet, he sauntered toward the opening.

  Julie and Ellie scurried out of sight.

  “You want to go over the fence?” the boy asked.

  Julie almost laughed out loud. The skepticism Peter was expressing sounded identical to his mother’s tone of voice when she had interrogated Julie.

  “Actually,” the woman said. “It looks a little frightening.”

  Peter let out an audible scoff. “Not for me.”

  Well, you’re pretty brave then, Julie mouthed, and the woman gave voice to her words, a tad less woodenly.

  Peter shrugged offhandedly, although his mouth lifted in a partial smile.

  Pleased with her success, his mother said, “Perhaps you can show me another time? It’s quite late. You must be tired.” A quick regrouping. “I know I am.”

  There you go, Julie thought, happy for the woman. That’s how you do it.

  She beckoned Ellie into the hallway so that Peter wouldn’t discover he’d had an audience. A set of footsteps could be heard making their careful way down the ladder, then a second, surer pair, quicksilver taps on the rungs.

  Julie stepped aside to allow her first student to enter the hall.

  * * *

  Peter stood just over five feet—tall, as his mother had said, and judging from the woman’s own stature, coming by his height honestly—with the overlong limbs unique to preadolescence, and a corn-silk flop of hair. The family resemblance was striking, although Peter didn’t have curls. His straight hair shone like a sheet of fine fabric. And his blue eyes appeared leaden. He shouldered past Julie as if she weren’t even there.