by Regina Doman
“Paul said he would teach me and Debbie to juggle,” Linette said, skipping through the sand. “I showed him how I could do a frontward walkover, and he said he would teach me to do it backwards. He said that if we were really good we might be able to be in his act with him. He said he could jump through a flaming hoop if he had someone brave enough to hold it up for him. I said I wouldn’t do it but Debbie said she would, if he showed her how.”
Rachel rolled her eyes at Miriam. “Well, he certainly gets on well with the youngsters.”
“That’s probably why he wants to be a clown,” Cheryl added.
“I like him. He’s cool,” Brittany spoke up unexpectedly.
“You’re too young to know what cool is,” said Taren disdainfully.
Brittany said nothing, but crossed her eyes, stuck out her tongue and touched her nose with it.
As they talked, they were making their way down the beach. Further down the shore, the beach turned into woods. Halting a few yards from the first trees, Rachel threw herself down on a sandy spot and sighed. “I’m so bored,” she said.
“Maybe we should get Paul to come down here and juggle for us,” Miriam suggested, and Rachel coughed, laughing.
“That’s good,” she said appreciatively. She kicked at a pebble with her toe, picked it up and threw it in the water. Inside she wondered if Taylor would come through tonight. She searched the deserted bay again for the hundredth time, disappointed.
Then she caught sight of a white plume rolling across the waters to her. A wake? A boat?
She stood up, hearing a motor, and scanned the darkness. Then she saw it. A motorboat. Two motorboats. Coming in their direction.
Now, not wanting to look too eager, she sat back down again on the sand. And that was okay, because the other girls were standing up, peering at the boats.
“I think they’re coming this way,” Miriam said in disbelief.
“Are they?” Cheryl said anxiously. “I’m going back up.”
Rachel cast a glance at Cheryl, who was decently clothed. Fortunately no one had yet gone swimming tonight. “Just stay here. Wait.”
Cheryl paused and the girls all watched as the two boats came close and cut their engines. Then they began to drift towards the shore.
“Hi there,” came a voice from one of them.
Rachel stood up, attempting languidness. “Taylor?” she called.
“The same,” the familiar voice said, and the twins exchanged delighted glances.
“You took your sweet time,” Rachel said.
“Sorry.”
“Well, come on in.”
“Where’s the best place to pull up?” a voice from the other boat asked. Rachel recognized Keith Kramer and smiled to herself.
“There’s a deep spot there, under the willows. Maybe if you can get the nose of the boat in there…”
“All right,” Taylor said.
The other girls had been listening to this exchange in silence. Rachel glanced at them. “Relax. It’s just Keith and Taylor from school,” she said. “Who else is with you?” she called.
“Rich and Pete.”
“Pete! Omigosh, hi Pete!” Prisca’s voice came shrilly from further up the beach. She scrambled down, her green dress shimmering in the moonlight. She was wearing far more makeup than she could have gotten away with either at Bayside Christian or in front of her father, and looking much more mature than her fifteen years. It was actually a bit scary.
“Hi Prisca,” Pete said. “Uh, wow, you’re dressed up.”
“Oh, yeah, sort of. I was just trying it on. What are you doing here?”
“Rachel told us to come by, so we did.”
All the girls looked at Rachel, who, raising an eyebrow, smiled. Taylor was edging his boat towards the willows. After a bit of maneuvering, he managed to get close enough for him to stagger onto the shore, followed by Pete and Rich, who were seniors like Rachel and Cheryl. The second boat followed, and Keith Kramer and Alan Vonnegun got out.
“Hey Alan,” Rachel said. “Glad you could make it.”
“So am I,” he said. “Hey, when are you going to get me that CD?”
She laughed. Alan was a good friend: she was glad he had come along. “I’ll get it to you.”
“So what are you girls up to?” Taylor asked as he reached the girls.
Rachel grinned. “Escaping parental supervision.”
“Seriously? Are all of you down here?”
“Yes. Like I told you, we’ve been doing this for the past couple weeks or so. It’s been fun, but you know, it’s always great to have company.” She smiled artfully at Keith, who flushed.
Taylor was checking out the beach. “This is really private. Your parents can’t see you from the house, can they?”
“No. Their bedroom faces the other way. I’m glad you cut your motors when you did. Just in case they could hear anything.”
Rachel was dying to get off the beach, but she saw some preliminary socializing would be in order. So she sat down on the sand while the girls clustered around Taylor, Alan, Pete and Rich, chatting eagerly.
“So how did you make it out here?” Rachel asked, as Keith Kramer sat down beside her.
“Oh, my parents went to bed. Then I just took off,” Keith said, with some exaggerated casualness. Rachel could see that he was reveling in the freedom of this nighttime adventure.
“And your parents let you take the boat out at night?” Rachel said innocently.
“Well, not exactly,” he said, “but if I fill up the tank with gas, my dad will never notice I was out.”
“So your parents don’t know what you’re up to,” she said with a smile.
“Uh…no.” He swallowed.
“Well,” Rachel teased, knowing she had him. “I won’t tell on you if you don’t tell on me.”
She sounded joking, but she had a feeling that Keith picked up on the threat, and realized he had made a big mistake.
“Nah, I’d never tell on you,” he said, a bit indignantly. He looked around. “Like Taylor said, this is a really neat… beach you have here.”
Keith scrambled to his feet and hurried over to Prisca, who was standing with the other boys, shrugging her shoulders, fluttering her eyelashes, and giggling to her heart’s content.
Rachel wanted to laugh. So much for Dad’s spy. But instead she walked down to the water where the youngest girls, who had quickly tired of the conversations, were splashing around. She started a splashing game with them, and then Taylor joined in. It was fun, but Rachel wasn’t anxious to get too wet, so after a few minutes, she sat down on a rock and Taylor sat next to her. As they talked, Melanie slipped over to sit with them, putting her head on Rachel’s shoulder.
After about a quarter hour, Rachel looked at Taylor and said coaxingly, “Taylor, take us for a boat ride.”
Taylor said, hesitantly, “Sure, but are you all going to come?”
“Just me and Melanie and Cheryl,” Rachel said. “The rest can stay here or go with Keith.”
“Man, Alan should have brought his family’s boat. I told him he should have. It’s huge.”
“He should have,” exclaimed Rachel, disappointed.
“Well… maybe I can ask him to bring it tomorrow.”
“Good.” She stood up. “Come on, Cheryl! Melanie and I are going for a boat ride.”
Rachel had picked Cheryl deliberately because she sensed the older girl was irritated by the twins’ flirting with boys who were Cheryl’s classmates. Also, Rachel calculated that Cheryl would hesitate to go on a boat ride at first, but would probably enjoy it once she got out there. A small outing like this was the perfect time to persuade her conservative stepsister that they had nothing to fear.
Cheryl grudgingly joined them, after Taylor asked her to, and Melanie seemed happy so long as she was accompanying Rachel. They clambered into the swaying boat and settled themselves. Cheryl asked for, and got, a life jacket for herself and Melanie, but Rachel sat up front in the boat next to T
aylor, letting the wind stream around her neck and through her hair as the powerful engine gunned to life and pulled her away.
For the next half hour she lived in the rush of the wind and water, and by the time they headed back towards the shore, she was yearning for more. Only the need to keep their secret safe impelled her back home.
“Never been boating? Well, what have you been doing then?” The quotation came back to her—where had she heard that? She realized, disconcerted, that she had heard it that evening, from Paul Fester.
“Taylor,” she said, as he let the boat drift back towards shore. “You have to tell the other guys that they can’t let on to anyone that they saw us here. Right?”
“Oh, yeah, sure. I’ll make sure I’ll tell them,” Taylor said, seriously.
“Keith won’t chicken out, will he?”
“He better not, or he’ll get us all in trouble,” Taylor said. “Are you worried that your dad will try to crack him?”
“Yeah, sort of,” Rachel said. “I mean, you know my dad. General Patton.”
“He’s been sounding out the guys in Bible group about what you girls have been up to. I was the only one who knew what he was getting at, and you know I won’t tell.” He grinned. “And now that the rest of them have been out here, I doubt they’re going to tell him either. I mean, we’d have to admit to Colonel ‘Patton’ that we were out with his daughters at night—alone!”
“Yeah, right!” Rachel laughed. This was exactly as she had hoped. Now she didn’t need to worry. “Thanks so much for coming by. Can you come again?”
“Absolutely.”
“Good.” Rachel felt another thrill go through her. This was working. She looked out at the island standing aloof in the bay, and appraised it like a diamond.
five
Paul stood on the Durham’s doorstep around ten o’clock the next morning, steeled with determination, and knocked. He wasn’t entirely sure of what to do next, but it had occurred to him that this might be a decent idea.
When one of the girls answered the door, he asked to see their mother. In a few minutes, Sallie came to the door. She was dressed in a blue cotton jumper, and was holding baby Jabez, who looked recently cleaned.
“Good morning, Paul,” she said, and her eyes were still a bit nervous, although she smiled. “What can I do for you?”
“I wanted to say thanks again for the great dinner last night. I really appreciated it.”
“Well, you’re very welcome, I’m sure.”
“Last night, I had told your younger daughters, Debbie and Linette, that I could teach them juggling. They seemed to be interested so I wanted to find out if that was all right with you, and when would be a good time.”
Sallie looked hesitant. “I would have to ask my husband. That’s very kind of you to offer. Would you want to be paid for it?”
Paul shook his head. “Not at all. Actually, I’m scheduled to do this show next week at the Colonial festival. I could really use some assistants. If you and Colonel Durham were willing, and the girls as well, they could be my assistants in the show.”
“Oh my! Well, that would keep them busy! Are you sure you could teach them in time?”
“Even if they learn a few things, they can help me out. It’s really not that difficult.”
She paused. “I’d have to check with my husband first. If he says it’s okay, then maybe you could come by at noon to teach them? If the girls are finished with their chores. Would that work for you?”
“Sounds great!”
“All right,” Sallie said, still seeming a little guarded. “I’ll see you then, Mr. Fester.”
“Call me Paul, please. Goodbye.”
Paul walked away as the door closed, breathing deeply. He was fairly certain Colonel Durham would allow the lessons. The only difficulty was that he was sure he would be tired by noon.
I’d better go back to the tent and make up my sleep now, he thought. And I hope Debbie and Linette manage to make up their sleep too.
Rachel yawned over the laundry. I must, I must get some sleep today. She thought of the hammock outside in the sun. After she was done here, she would steal down there and doze off, if none of her sisters got there first.
Stepping up her pace, she finished the laundry a bit more quickly than usual, dabbed on some sunscreen, and slipped outside, stifling another yawn. The hammock hung in a corner of the yard, unoccupied. She lay down, closed her eyes against the sun, and was asleep almost instantly, swaying in the breeze.
A bit later on, she drifted to the surface of sleep and became aware of shrieks of laughter and shouts. She opened one eye, and saw some figures cavorting on the lawn. After watching them in a bored perplexity for some time, she remembered that Paul was supposed to come over to teach Debbie and Linette juggling, or tumbling, or something like that. She closed her eyes again.
Then she heard giggles coming closer. She opened an eye a bit irritated, and saw her two younger biological sisters Liddy and Becca, dressed in fancy dresses, come dancing up to the hammock, carrying a big plastic hamper between them.
“What are you doing?” she asked, a bit sharply.
Liddy, resplendent in royal blue, with ample costume jewelry said, “Becca and I are going to play dress up. In the cave.”
“Won’t Sallie think you’re a bit old for dress-up?” Rachel asked mildly.
“Oh no. She saw us, and she said we looked very cute,” said fourteen-year-old Becca. “Of course, we were doing it with the young ones, before Paul came and stole them away from us. So we’re just bringing the rest of the dresses down to the cave to wait for them.”
“I see,” Rachel said, “and you might just forget and leave them down there.”
“We might,” Liddy giggled.
“I see,” Rachel said, and closed her eyes again. She wondered to herself if there was a dress somewhere in the house that she could wear. There was something about seeing guys on summer nights that made her want to dress up. But she didn’t exactly want to go in an old dress-up gown or discarded bridesmaid dress. Her own bridesmaid dress from her father’s second marriage had been made for her before she really hit her growth spurt—no question of her fitting into it now. Besides, it was pale blue cotton with ivory roses on it. At the time, she had picked out the fabric herself. But now it seemed like fabric for a naïve little girl, not for someone—well, like herself.
Remembering picking out the bridesmaid dresses turned over painful memories. Her mother’s death was something she had pushed to the furthest reaches of her mind. For a long time her father had seemed so anxious that she not be psychologically disturbed by the tragedy, and had arranged a plethora of counseling services for her, and would probably do so again, instantly, if he had any idea that she was still struggling with it. But she was weary of talking about the pain, and just wanted it to die away quietly in the back of her mind, alone and unnoticed.
The one good outcome of Mom’s dying was that for a while, it seemed, she and her father had been very close. He depended on her, the oldest, to keep the other girls together, to soak up their grief and more than that, to look after them, cook for them, feed them, keep them clothed, to run the household, especially when his military duties called.
Then he had met Sallie, and things had begun to change. Rachel remembered bitterly the night Dad had taken her, Rachel, out to dinner, and told her about his plans to marry again. “You’ve been taking on the responsibilities of an adult, and you shouldn’t have to do that yet at your age. I want you to be free to be a child again, and enjoy being a young person.”
Perhaps he meant it to be comforting, but for Rachel, he was stripping her of her newfound maturity. He was taking away part of her identity, even though he hadn’t realized it. So here she was, capable of running a house, but unable to do it as she wanted, because it was no longer her house. Yet she still had to live under her father’s roof, and be a child, and she was sick of being a child.
And her father, who at one point had be
gun to treat her as an equal, repented to her (at their new pastor’s prodding) for placing too many burdens on her shoulders, and had proceeded, through his deeper involvement in their church, to become more and more clueless. He didn’t understand her silent outrage at having to listen to Sallie, whose haphazard housekeeping drove Rachel nuts, or her resentment towards the church and its various ministries.
Her father had turned to the church for support in his time of bereavement, and now seemed to be caught in its stranglehold. Everything in the family schedule revolved around church groups, share groups, youth groups, men’s groups, and women’s groups. Church annual retreats had become more important than Christmas and Easter, it seemed. But Rachel could see how much comfort and happiness her father and his wife derived from the church and their church family. She didn’t dare suggest they leave or pull back. Who was she, she thought dismally, to wreck the happiness of so many people?
So she was finding her own version of happiness, in different places. Yes, what I need, she thought, is a dress. A sleek black dress, not too formal, not too casual. And black sandals, with thin straps. There was nothing in her wardrobe—or her sisters’—or Sallie’s—that remotely resembled the dress she was envisioning. Such dresses were common enough in the outside world, but not in the cotton-print fabric of their church and family life.
The other girls would need dresses, too. Dresses to dance in. Because they would go dancing, somehow. She felt the island would be a perfect place for a midnight dance.
She counted up dollars on her fingers. Last week she had gotten paid for several hours of filing at the church office. Perhaps next time she went into town, she could go to the Mission store—or better yet, the bargain-price clothing store that sold slightly defective brand name clothes. Next time she and Prisca went grocery shopping, they could arrange to split up and have one of them go to the store while the other went clothes shopping. Yes, that might work.
Turning over, she sighed, and gazed lazily over at the juggling class. She could see Linette tossing a club in the air and dropping it, while Paul stood in front of her, coaching her. Debbie was working with two clubs, and seemed to be doing just fine.
