by Jodi Picoult
Absentmindedly I watch Hadley walk up the hill. He�s wearing a blue flannel shirt that makes me think of the dark shade of Sam�s eyes. Suddenly the front door on the Big House opens and Rebecca flies out of it. She is still crying; I can tell from the way her shoulders quiver. She runs to Hadley and presses herself against him.
For just a minute, I remember that Hadley and Sam the same age.
Hadley cranes his neck, taking a look around. When I see him surveying the upstairs windows I duck back. Then I peek over the edge of the sill. Hadley is kissing the tears off my daughter�s face.
It must be minutes that this goes on. I watch every move they make. She�s a baby. She�s just a baby. She doesn�t know any better- how could Hadley do something like this? The way she arches her neck and the curve of her eyebrows, and the way she moves her hands across Hadley�s back-there is something very familiar about this. Then it comes to me. Rebecca. When she is making love, she looks like me.
I think I am going to scream, or vomit; so I fall away from the window, out of sight. Sam comes into the room then; I wonder if he has seen them as well. �You look like you�ve seen a ghost,� he says. But by the time he crosses the room to look outside, Hadley has pushed Rebecca away to a safe distance. At least a foot of space separates them.
�What?� Sam says. �What�s the problem?�
�I can�t do this. It isn�t fair to you; it isn�t fair to my daughter. I can�t just think about myself. It�s been wonderful, Sam, but I think we should just go back to being friends.�
�You can�t go backwards.� Sam moves away from me. �You don�t tell someone you love them, and send them flying, and then trash them the next time you see them.� He comes closer and puts his hand on my shoulder, but when I feel it starting to burn I shrug him away. �What�s gotten into you?�
�Have you seen them? Hadley and Rebecca? He�s the same age as you, Sam. And he was practically screwing my daughter.�
�Hadley wouldn�t do that. Maybe Rebecca egged him on.�
My jaw drops. �Whose side are you on?�
�I�m just saying you should look at is logically.�
�Let me put it to you this way,� I say. �If I see him near my daughter again I�ll kill him with my own two hands.�
�What does this have to do with us?�
�If I hadn�t been so wrapped up in you,� I say, �I might have noticed what was going on between Rebecca and Hadley.� Sam starts to kiss my neck. It strikes me that this was the exact pose in which I just spied my daughter and Sam�s best friend. �You�re distracting me.�
�I know. I planned to.� I start to protest but he holds his hand up to my mouth. �Just give me one more day. Promise me that.�
When we leave the orchard, I haven�t even seen Joley yet. Sam tells me he�s down spraying organic pesticides on a section of the commercial grove. I want to find Rebecca one more time before I go, but she is nowhere to be seen.
Sam drives the blue pickup truck to a nature sanctuary about thirty miles west of Stow. Run by an Audubon spin-off, it is a large penned-in area where there are deer, great horned owls, silver foxes, wild turkeys. The paths wind through natural habitats: ponds with fallen logs, tall gold grasses, antlered branches. We walk around holding hands; there is nobody here who knows us. In fact because it is a weekday there is almost nobody here. Just some elderly people, who watch us as much as they watch the wildlife. I hear one old woman whisper to her friend as we walk by. Newlyweds, she says.
Sam and I sit for three hours on the brink of the deer habitat. Inside, the sign says, are a doe and a buck. We can spot the buck easily because it is drinking in the lake, but the doe is indistinguishable from the mottled foliage. We try to find her for a half-hour, and then we give up for a while.
Instead, we sit facing each other on a low log bench and try to catch up on the rest of our lives. I tell Sam about the house in Newton, about Joley�s trek to Mexico, about cocktail parties at the Institute and about a little girl with a cleft palate who has been my favorite student now for three years. I tell him about the time Rebecca needed stitches in her chin, and about the plane crash, and finally, about how Oliver and I met. Sam, in return, tells me about his father in Florida, and about giving speeches at Minuteman Tech, about the almost extinct apple he�s been trying to recreate genetically, about all the places he has read about and wishes he could go. We say that we will travel together, and we make up a list as if it is truly going to happen.
�There are all these things I used to say I wanted to do that I never got to do,� I tell him.
�Why not?�
�I had Rebecca,� I say, matter-of-fact.
�She�s old enough to take care of herself.�
�Apparently not. You didn�t see her this morning. You can�t decide these things for yourself when you�re only fifteen.�
Sam grins. �Didn�t I hear right that you met old Oliver when you were fifteen?�
I start to say that was different, but I change my mind. �And look where that got me.�
�I think you�re overreacting.�
�I think you aren�t her mother,� I snap. I take a deep breath. �I want you to fire Hadley.�
�Hadley?� Sam says, incredulous. �I can�t do that. He�s my best friend.�
I stand up, searching for that doe. �It�s just wrong. I know he�s wrong for Rebecca as much as I�ve known anything. He�s ten years older than her, for God�s sake.� I pause, and then turn to Sam. �Don�t say it.�
Suddenly I see her, stepping through the trees with the grace of a ballerina. The doe lifts her legs high, sniffing with her head delicately bowed. Behind her is a caramel-colored fawn. Nobody said there was a fawn. �I�m not going to be here very long, Sam,� I say softly. �You know that and I know that.�
Sam stands up, his hands in his pockets. �You�re giving me an ultimatum.�
�No I�m not.�
�You are,� Sam insists. �If I want you, I�ve got to do something about Hadley. And even so, it would be a temporary victory.�
�What do you mean by that?�
Sam grabs my shoulders. �Tell me you�ll leave him. You and Rebecca can stay with me in Stow. We�ll get married and we�ll have a zillion kids.�
I smile sadly. �I�ve already got a kid. I�m too old to have babies.�
�That�s bullshit,� Sam says. �You know that. We�ll live in the Big House and it�ll be perfect.�
�It�ll be perfect,� I say, repeating his words. �It�s nice to think that.�
Sam wraps his arms around me. �I�ll talk to Hadley. I�ll work something out.� He leans his head on my shoulder. �Perfect,� he says.
Only Joley is in the Big House when we return. It is late afternoon, and he�s come in for a cold drink. As we walk into the house, Sam is grabbing at the waistband of my shorts. �Stop!� I laugh, swatting his hand away. That�s when I see my brother. �Oh,� I straighten up- we�ve been caught with our hands in the cookie jar.
�Where have you two been?� Joley says, amused. At least he�s not shocked, like Rebecca. Where is she?
�At the nature sanctuary,� Sam says. �Where is everyone?�
�Finishing up. Rebecca�s down there too.�
�Can I talk to you, Sam?� Joley asks, and Sam looks at me: We knew it was coming. He leads Sam into the kitchen and starts the faucet running, no doubt to keep me from listening.
I walk into the den, where the television is on. The five o�clock local news. I swing myself sideways in the armchair so that my feet dangle over the edge. The anchorwoman is reporting on a fire that killed three people in Dorchester. Then a familiar logo appears on the screen behind her. Why do I know it? �And now,� the anchorwoman says, �we take you to Joan Gallagher, reporting from Gloucester, where rescue efforts have been underway for the past three days to save a humpback whale tangled in a fishing boat�s gill net. Joan?�
�I don�t believe this,� I say out loud. �This stuff follows me.�
�Thanks, Anne,� the reporter says dutifully. �Behind me is Stellwagen Bank, a major East Coast feeding ground for several groups of humpback whales. Many people have been following the pl
ight of Marble, a humpback who became tangled three days ago in a gill net left behind by a fishing vessel. Sighted once by the Coast Guard, it took forty-eight hours to find the exact location of Marble again. Today, Dr. Windy McGill, director of the Provincetown Center for Coastal Studies, undertook the rescue of the desperate humpback.�
The reporter cuts to footage of an inflatable boat being tossed about on the ocean. There are two people on board. �Dr. McGill was joined by a colleague, Dr. Oliver Jones, a prominent marine biologist whose research on humpbacks is world-renowned.� They zoom in on Oliver�s face, bent low as he untangles a nylon rope. I sit absolutely still. �Dr. Jones, who studies whales off the coast of California, just happened to be in the Boston area and offered his help when he heard of Marble�s dilemma. These two scientists bravely made the twenty-three mile trip in a Zodiac raft to the location of the whale.�
They show the boat being pitched up, regaining its balance, slapping back against the ocean. �Oliver,� I say, covering my mouth with my hand.
By now Sam and Joley have come out of the kitchen. They stand on either side of me, watching the footage. �Isn�t that . . . ?� Joley says, but I hush him.
The camera refocuses on the reporter. �After three and a half hours of dedicated and dangerous work, Marble swam free. She was joined immediately by several other whales. And perhaps the most touching twist to this story was that the foremost rescuer, Dr. Oliver Jones, is in need of some help himself.�
�Jones?� Sam says.
The camera closes in on Oliver�s face, on his pale eyes, his Kahlua skin. �Jane.� His voice is shaking, hoarse. �I need you. I hope you can see this, and I hope you and Rebecca are all right. I want you to know something. I can�t stand being without you.�
�Don�t tell me,� Sam says.
Oliver takes a picture out of his wallet, one of Rebecca and me. It�s not even a good one. �If anyone out there has seen my wife or this little girl, please call in,� Oliver says.
I have grabbed Sam�s hand; I didn�t even notice myself doing it. �That�s Oliver. That�s my husband.�
Oliver stares at me, painfully honest. I wonder how much he can see. I wonder if he knows what I have done. �I love you,� Oliver says to me, just me. �I don�t care if the whole world knows.�
62 J OLEY
After the news broadcast, Sam takes off. He says he has something to do; he doesn�t mention what it is. He doesn�t say anything to my sister.
�Come on,� I say, taking her hand. �Help me make dinner.� She follows me into the kitchen, weak, easily led. She sits down on a ladderback chair.
�Oh, Joley,� she sighs. �What have I done ?�
I take carrots and lettuce from the refrigerator. I�m not gourmet, but salads are easy. �You tell me .�
She looks up, her eyes wild. �Maybe we can run away. If we leave now we�ll be gone by the time Oliver gets here.�
�You can�t drag Rebecca away again. It�s not healthy. She�s just a kid.�
�I�m not talking about Rebecca,� Jane mutters. �I�m talking about Sam .�
I drop several carrots I have been peeling in the sink. �You knew Oliver would come to find you. You told me that yourself. And you didn�t want to talk about what would happen when he got here.�
�I don�t want to talk about it.�
�You�re right. Maybe if we don�t think about him, he�ll disappear.� I throw the vegetable peeler into the sink. �All right, then, let�s talk about something else. Let�s talk about Sam.�
�I don�t want to talk about Sam,� Jane says.
�Look at me.� She will not.
�What�s going on?� When I spoke to Sam earlier, he gave me the runaround. I first heard from Rebecca, who came running to me in the morning, crying. Uncle Joley , she sobbed, I hate her. I hate her.
�Nothing,� Jane says. Then she sighs. �I�m not going to lie to you. You know what�s going on. Everyone knows what�s going on.�
�You tell me,� I say. I want to hear it from her.
I am expecting her to tell me she slept with Sam. But instead she tilts her head, and says, �Sam�s the person I was supposed to fall in love with.�
�Then what is Oliver?�
Jane looks at me and blinks quickly. �Extra baggage.�
�You�ve been with Sam for five days. How can you come to a conclusion in five lousy days?� He doesn�t know you, I think. I�ve been by your side for thirty years. I�m the one to whom you are tied.
�Remember what I said to you when we first got here?�
�That Sam was a stubborn pig.�
�Besides that,� Jane says, smiling. �I did say that, didn�t I? Well, I also said that I�d know what I was looking for when it hit me. I said that all I needed in my life was an instant of time when I could honestly say I was on top of the world, and not be lying. This is it.�
�You also said that if you got those five terrific minutes you�d go back to Oliver. You�d live the life you started with and you�d never complain.�
�But that was before. How do you know my five minutes are up? I said I�d go back when it was over. But it�s not over yet. Not by a long shot, Joley.�
I start to tell her about Rebecca, and what happened this morning. I tell her because it gets me off the hook; it keeps me from thinking about Jane and Sam, together. Rebecca came up to me, and told me what she had seen. She said, Does this mean my parents are getting a divorce? Does this mean I�m never going to go home?
I watched her standing in front of me, and I knew how she felt. I remembered what it was like to crawl into the safety of Jane�s bed, under the covers, and listen to the screaming going on downstairs between my mother and father. Nothing seemed so loud, or so awful, if I had Jane�s arms around me.
Even my father started to go to Jane�s room at night. At first I thought it was for the same security that I went there for. I figured everyone has something he is afraid of, something he needs to forget about, even Daddy. I began to piece together the differences slowly, and by the time I understood, Jane stopped letting me come into her room. It was right at the time when she started to change; when Jane sprouted breasts and I began to notice the hair under her arms and vined on her legs. She wouldn�t let me in the room when she was dressing. She wouldn�t let me under the covers. Instead we would sit primly on the bedspread and play Hearts.
It killed me when she went to college. She left me home alone. She�d visit, almost every weekend, but it wasn�t the same. I always expected that she�d come back to me, but instead, she married Oliver Jones.
What I told Rebecca this morning is that Jane was always meant to be a mother. Look at how young she started taking care of me. But right now Rebecca would have to be the logical one. �Your mother will come around,� I told her, but she winced as I said it. She wanted to know how long it would take. She wanted to know how many people would have to be hurt. Most of all she asked why Jane was the one who got to make the final decision.
What decision? I asked Rebecca.
To throw it all away, she cried. Can�t you see that�s what she�s trying to do?
I tell my sister all this, and she nervously winds her hair around her finger.
�I don�t get it, Joley. You spend your whole life as my biggest cheerleader. You�re always there to tell me I�m not paying enough attention to myself; that I deserve better. So after fifteen years I finally take your stupid advice and you tell me I�d better slow down. Make up your mind,� she says. �I�m not going to lie to Rebecca. I�m going to tell her everything; I�m just not going to do it today. Give me a little time. I�ve never asked for anything my whole life. I�ve given and given and given. So can�t I just get this one small thing?�
�No,� I say, too quickly, and Jane explodes.
�What do you want me to do?�
�Come to me. I�ve always wanted you to come to me.�
�I can�t hear you,� Jane says irritably.
I clear my throat. �I said I wanted you to come to me.�
She throws her hands up. �I did come to you. I traveled three thousand miles to come to you. And all
I�ve gotten is a lecture.�
The day that Jane married Oliver, the day that she kissed me on the cheek and told me she was happier than she�d ever been, something happened to me. Quite concretely I felt my chest swell and then contract, and that�s when I understood that you can clearly feel a broken heart. I turned away without saying anything to her, but she didn�t notice, engulfed in a flood of guests. I promised myself that I wouldn�t let myself get hurt like this again.
I have never stopped looking after Jane, but I have kept my distance. Almost immediately after she got married I started to travel, bouncing from college to college and then across the United States, into Mexico, to Bangladesh, Morocco, Asia. I put as many miles between us as I could allow, assuming this was the easiest way. I have always wanted the best for her because she means so much to me. So, when all this was beginning with Sam, I gave my blessing. I wanted him to have her. If it could not be me.
She puts her arms around me, and for a minute I�m back where I used to be, where love could be tucked in a pillow fold. �I�m sorry. I didn�t mean to yell at you.�
I used to think about dying and being cremated. I wanted my ashes placed in a leather pouch and I wanted Jane to wear it around her neck. I used to imagine her pulling on layers of clothing in the winter, turtlenecks and sweaters and bulky down parkas, knowing that I was the thing that came closest to her heart.
This is the most it will ever be, I think. �Don�t worry about me.� I smile at her. �I�ve always had trouble adjusting to your boyfriends.�
Jane holds me at arm�s length. She opens her mouth to say something-what?-but she closes it again, silent.
Just then Rebecca and Hadley swing into the kitchen. Hadley is giving Rebecca a piggyback ride, and she kicks the door open with her foot. They just make it over the threshold before Hadley loses his hold on Rebecca and half drops, half tumbles her onto the floor. They are both laughing so hard it takes them a minute to realize that I am in the kitchen, that Jane is in the kitchen. �Did we interrupt?� Hadley says, goodnatured and grinning, dusting off the legs of his jeans.
�No,� Jane says. �Not at all.� He is staring at Rebecca, who has deliberately taken a good deal of time to get to her feet. Funny, she is exactly as tall as Jane.
63 S AM
You should have seen the look on her face when that guy came onto the television. I mean, she just shriveled up inside. I could tell from the way she almost fell out of the chair. She kept saying his name: Oliver.
