Secrets in Summer

by Nancy Thayer

  “Hey, don’t I take care of you? When we had the vodka the other night, I didn’t give you too much. You didn’t throw up, did you? I know how to get a good high without causing any downside.”

  Willow’s voice shook. “Couldn’t we just smoke a joint again? Or we could get some vodka from the house.”

  “Baby, baby, don’t be scared.”

  As Darcy listened, she couldn’t help but interpret the silence, the murmurings. She could clearly read what Logan was up to. He was kissing Willow, cuddling her, making the girl feel safe and secure. Darcy had heard rumors about Logan dealing, but this was going past dealing.

  “I promise you, baby, you’ll feel euphoric. You know what that word means, right?”

  A sharpness in Willow’s voice. “Of course I do!”

  “Well, this will be euphoria like you’ve never imagined. You’ll get so high, and I’ll be right here holding you, and after a while, you’ll get relaxed, a little sleepy, it’s called ‘on the nod.’ ”

  “Logan—”

  “Okay, fine. I spent some money to get some really good, pure, sweet stuff for you, but I don’t want to force you.”

  Thank God, Darcy thought, relaxing her shoulders.

  “I’m sorry, Logan.”

  “No worries. I kind of thought you were too young for me, anyway.”

  The grass rustled. Logan was moving away from Willow.

  “I’m not too young for you,” Willow protested. “I love you, Logan.”

  “Well, I snort heroin and I kind of imagined us doing it together…and then doing it together.”

  “Are you going to snort some now?”

  “Not now. I wasn’t going to. I wanted to stay clear and watch you for your first time. See how you do. Look, see this packet? Look how small it is. I wouldn’t use more than half of it. I’d make a line of it on my hand, and you’d snort it—you’ve seen people snort heroin, haven’t you?”

  “In movies.”

  “I wish you trusted me.”

  Another silence.

  “All right,” Willow conceded in a small voice. “I’ll do it.”

  “My baby. You won’t regret it. You know I love you, don’t you, Willow?”

  “Do you? Really? You’ve never said that before.”

  As Darcy listened to sounds of what was undoubtedly some major kissing, she stood up, hands clenched at her side, panicking. Willow’s parents weren’t home. She had her cell, she could call someone, she could call the police, but they couldn’t get here soon enough to prevent Willow from snorting the heroin. Willow was not her child, she, Darcy, was not responsible for Willow, she’d been told by Boyz to butt out of Willow’s life, but this, this…

  “Okay now, see this nice straight line on my hand? Hold one nostril shut with your finger, put your nose down—”

  “Don’t do it, Willow! I’m coming over there!”

  Darcy sprinted through her yard, beneath the arbor, around and down the narrow path near the Brueckners’. She burst into the Szwedas’ backyard. Willow and Logan sat staring at her wide-eyed and openmouthed as if she’d landed from outer space. And she sort of felt like it, as adrenaline flooded her system. She was shaking, and she was red-hot mad.

  “No, Willow, you are not snorting heroin.” Darcy kicked Logan’s hand, and the white powder flew into the grass.

  “Hey!” Logan yelled. “Lady, that was a lot of money you just lost me.”

  “Good!” Darcy eased her voice down from bellow to loud. She wanted to sound threatening but in control. “I live on the other side of the hedge, and I’ve heard every stupid word you’ve just said. You’re Logan Smith and I know your parents, and I’ve got a cellphone in my hand and if you don’t get your sleazy, sneaky drug-dealer ass out of here now, I’m calling the police.”

  Logan looked at Willow. “Are you going to let this freak tell us what to do?”

  Willow’s teeth were chattering so hard she couldn’t speak.

  Darcy held up her cellphone and hit a button.

  “Bitch,” Logan said. He stood, tall and so thin Darcy thought she could push him over with one hand. He glanced down at Willow. “Coming with me?”

  Darcy stepped between Willow and Logan. “No. She’s not coming with you. She’s not coming with you ever again, especially after I tell her about the girls you’ve knocked up.”

  Logan narrowed his eyes. “I’m gonna get—”

  Darcy folded her arms over her chest. “Shut up, Logan. You would be extremely stupid to threaten me. Leave. Just leave.”

  “Nasty old snake-face bitch.”

  Darcy said nothing. She knew he would go more readily if she let him have the last word.

  Logan turned and walked away, sauntering, so Willow knew he was no coward.

  He disappeared from sight. A moment later, a truck door slammed and an engine roared and Logan laid some rubber. Then he was gone.

  Darcy was trembling. She knew it was the adrenaline rush, but she wanted it to stop. She wanted to appear calm and sensible to Willow. She knew she’d frightened the girl. Hell, Darcy had frightened herself.

  She squatted down in front of the girl. “Willow, my name is Darcy Cotterill. I live in the house on the other side of the hedge.”

  Willow was still shaking too hard to speak.

  “I’m not some weird voyeur. You can trust me.” Darcy hesitated. “I know your stepfather, Boyz Szweda.”

  “Okay,” Willow whispered, still clutching herself tightly and shivering.

  Darcy sat down on the grass next to Willow. “This is a very cool spot,” Darcy said. Soft grass beneath an ancient maple, with two of its roots veeing out, the trunk of the tree served as a backrest and concealed them from the view of anyone in the house, while the porch lamp provided enough light for Darcy to see Willow. “I’m a librarian,” she said. That should reassure the girl. Everyone thought librarians were helpful and bossy. “Here, at the Nantucket Atheneum. I live here year-round. So I know all about Logan.”

  “Don’t tell my parents. Please. They would totally kill me.”

  “I don’t know, Willow. I’ve got to think about that. But let’s go inside. I’ll make hot chocolate and we can talk.”

  “Hot chocolate?” Willow drew back, suddenly looking like a normal teenager being offered something truly lame.

  “Beats heroin every time.” Darcy stood, held out her hand, and breathed a sigh of relief when the girl took it. She pulled Willow up. “If you don’t want hot chocolate, we can just go in your house and talk for a while.”

  Willow hung her head, as if ashamed to admit it: “I like hot chocolate.”

  “Good. Let’s go. We can go along this funny path between my hedges and my neighbors’ house—there’s a family there this summer with three little boys.” She held Willow’s hand as they walked. “You might have met them. The Brueckners. They borrowed some milk from me.” Babble, babble, Darcy thought, but it was soothing her to talk and she hoped it was soothing Willow. “I have a cat. Do you like cats? His name is Muffler and he’s extremely vain.”

  “I like cats.”

  They came out into the narrow street, turned, and went into Darcy’s house.

  “Come in the kitchen while I make the hot chocolate. If we’re both in the kitchen, Muffler will get curious and make a guest appearance. Be prepared. He will expect praise for his awesomeness.”

  Willow smiled weakly. Darcy felt like she’d won the lottery.

  “Sit down.” Darcy went to her cupboards and took out the tin of Hershey’s cocoa and the sugar bowl. She measured two cups of milk into a pan and began to mix the ingredients together.

  Willow looked puzzled. “You’re not making Swiss Miss?”

  “What? No. No, I like making it from scratch. It takes more time, and I have to stand here and stir, but the taste is worth it. Ah, I’ve got a bag of mini marshmallows, too.”

  “How do you know my stepfather?”

  Oh, boy. Darcy continued stirring, considering her answer. “I w
as married to him,” she admitted. She hoped Willow knew her stepfather had been married before.

  “Wait, what? Okay, I’ve heard about you.” Willow relaxed in her chair. “Isn’t it odd that you live next to us?”

  “I’ve lived here for three years. It was my grandmother’s house.”

  “Does your grandmother live here, too?”

  “No, she died a few years ago. It’s okay—she was in her eighties. She’d had a good life.”

  “My grandmother, my mom’s mother, works in Vegas. We don’t see her very often. My mother doesn’t approve of her. My dad’s mother—my real dad—well, I’ve never met her. I don’t see my real dad much. I’m supposed to say my birth dad. He lives out west somewhere….”

  “That’s kind of the way my parents are,” Darcy told her. “They got divorced a long time ago. My father got a new wife and moved to Florida and never gets in touch with me—”

  “Really?” Willow brightened at Darcy’s words. “My birth dad doesn’t either. I mean, he never sends me a Christmas present or even a birthday card.”

  Darcy carefully poured the hot chocolate into two mugs and added the mini marshmallows on top. She set one mug on the kitchen table in front of Willow and one mug across from the girl. She handed Willow a spoon and took one for herself.

  “Careful,” Darcy said. “It might be too hot.”

  “I like watching the marshmallows melt.”

  “I do, too.”

  Willow stirred her cocoa. “Swiss Miss has a packet of these really tiny marshmallows.”

  “Cool.”

  “Plus, it’s quicker than making it your way.”

  While Willow bent over her mug, stirring the marshmallows, Darcy studied the girl. She had her mother’s abundant red hair and green eyes. She had her mother’s body type, too. Darcy could understand why a guy would be attracted to this fourteen-year-old even in her jeans shorts and a loose cotton T-shirt.

  “I’ll have to try Swiss Miss sometime,” Darcy said.

  “Yeah.” Willow sipped her drink. “This is good, though.”

  Muffler swanned into the room, waving his glorious long-haired black tail.

  “Oh, he’s beautiful!” Willow cried.

  “He certainly thinks so.”

  In one light leap, the cat jumped into Willow’s lap.

  “He likes me!”

  “He’ll like you more if you pet him.”

  For a while, only the sound of Muffler’s loud purring filled the room. What next? Darcy thought. They say if you save someone’s life, you’re responsible for them forever, which Darcy always thought was kind of backward, because if you save someone’s life, shouldn’t they be responsible for you, in a sort of turnabout is fair play? Besides, she hadn’t really saved the girl’s life. Except maybe she had. Getting hooked on heroin was a slow and ugly death sentence. Willow had asked Darcy not to tell her parents, but Darcy thought she had to. The girl was young and impressionable and too pretty for her own good.

  She deliberated about what to ask Willow. She didn’t want to start a series of monosyllabic responses to boring adult questions. Besides, she wasn’t a certified therapist and Willow had a lot to process. She didn’t feel comfortable letting the girl return to an empty house, though.

  “Want to watch TV? Until your parents get home? On Demand? Maybe Pretty Little Liars?”

  “Cool! My parents won’t be home till midnight.”

  “Want me to pop some popcorn?”

  “No, I’m good.” Willow stood up, holding Muffler in her arms.

  Darcy led Willow into the living room. They settled at either end of the sofa. Darcy pushed the buttons on the remote control until they’d gotten to the show, then handed it to Willow.

  Willow raised the volume slightly. When the show began, she took a deep breath. Obviously being on a sofa, watching television, was a safe place for her.

  Darcy had never watched the show. She was stunned at the perfect beauty of the actresses, and especially liked Alison, who was worried about her sanity. Her mind raced as the show went on: She wanted to be with Willow when her parents came home. She wanted to make the events of the evening clear. Somehow she had to get to the doing heroin without talking anymore about sex, since Boyz had made it clear it was none of her business. But heroin…

  As if Willow had read Darcy’s mind, she said, “Will you come with me when my parents get home?”

  “If you want me to.”

  Willow chewed on her thumb, then spoke so lightly Darcy could hardly hear her. “Logan really is my boyfriend. And all the girls at home are doing it.”

  Darcy gasped. “All the girls at home are doing heroin?”

  Willow laughed out loud. “No! I meant they’re all having sex. Or kind of sex. They give their boyfriends BJs. That keeps everybody happy and no one gets pregnant.”

  Words fail me, Darcy thought, and couldn’t speak. The girl at the other end of the sofa had a sprinkling of cinnamon freckles over nose and cheeks. If Willow wore her hair in braids…“I wonder if Anne of Green Gables ever gave BJs to Gilbert Blythe,” she mused.

  Willow burst out laughing so loudly that Muffler, insulted, jumped off her lap.

  “Wait, what? That is a very bizarre thought!” Turning on the sofa, she studied Darcy. “You really were married to my stepfather?”

  “I was.”

  “You were a waitress when he met you.”

  “Yes, that’s right.” Darcy smiled, remembering. “At Bijoux. I had so much fun working there. So many great friends.”

  “Why do you live on Nantucket?”

  “My grandmother left me this house. I sort of grew up in it, and I’ve always loved it. Plus, I had finished my degree in library science, and there was a job at the children’s library. Everything fell into place.”

  “My stepfather thinks he’s going to open a real estate company here, on this island. He says Nantucket has cachet.”

  “Do you think you’ll move here?”

  “Gosh, I hope not!” Willow made a grimace and covered her mouth. “Sorry. I mean I know some people totally choose to live here, but, wow, there’s no mall or Dairy Queen.”

  “I love Dairy Queen. When I go off island, I try to get to one for a Pecan Mudslide.”

  “I love Mudslides, too! They’re my favorite!”

  “Well, you know,” Darcy said in a jokey voice, “pecans are very healthy.”

  “I try not to eat too much ice cream. Mom says I can’t afford to get fat, that as I get older, any weight I put on will be hard to get off. But I don’t know any kids my age here. So I get kind of bored. I’m not big on going to the beach, either, and the one time I went, Logan hit on me.” She sighed. “You see how well that turned out.”

  Darcy said, “I think you’re perfect, maybe even too thin….” She let her voice trail off. She didn’t want to contradict anything Autumn had told Willow. Still, she had an idea….“Willow, do you like kids?’

  “Duh. Who doesn’t?”

  “I guess I mean kids in crazy noisy hordes. We do a summer story time program at the library, and our enrollment is full, and I want to offer another story time, maybe even two. They last about an hour, and it’s simply reading a book with cool pictures to a group of kids about two to five years old. You could choose which mornings you wanted to do it. The library would pay you, not much, but something.”

  “Wait, what? I can read stories to kids? Awesome sauce!” Willow almost bounced off the sofa. “That sounds like so much fun! Gosh, I haven’t looked at picture books for years and years.” Willow talked as if she were fifty years old. “I used to spend hours with picture books.”

  “You’d have to be capable of dealing with rambunctious kids,” Darcy told her. “And of course, we’ll need to get permission from your parents.”

  “Oh, they’ll give me permission. The library with old ladies and little kids? They’ll be thrilled.” Willow squinted her eyes as her words replayed in her head. “I don’t mean you are an old lady.
I just…”

  “It’s fine, Willow. And look, I think your parents are home. Lights are on in some of the rooms now.”

  “Oh, groan.” Willow’s shoulders sagged. “They’re going to be wicked pissed.”

  “Let’s go get it over with,” Darcy said.

  11

  As they walked down the lane to Willow’s house, Darcy tried to push back her misgivings. Of course she’d done the right thing, stopping Willow from snorting heroin. But Boyz wouldn’t like that Darcy had asked Willow to work in the library and he especially wouldn’t like that he’d told Darcy he knew what was happening with Willow and tonight Darcy had proved him wrong.

  At the steps to the porch, Willow came to an abrupt halt.

  “They’re going to kill me,” she whispered.

  “You can handle it,” Darcy said. “They love you. Come on.”

  She started up the steps to the side door. Willow stood frozen. Darcy reached back and took her hand. She was surprised when, as they entered the house, Willow kept a tight hold on her hand, and there they were, in the gleaming space-age granite-countered kitchen, standing together like two girls facing their headmaster.

  Boyz was at the refrigerator, taking out a bottle of carbonated water. “Autumn, want some water?” he called. He wore a navy blazer and a striped button-down shirt, open at the collar. Loafers without socks. Party clothes.

  “God, no, I’ll be up peeing all night as it is.” Autumn came to lean against the door from the dining room. She’d kicked off her stiletto heels, and still looked stunning in a tight pink strapless sheath. Her abundant red hair was falling down from its elegant chignon. Seeing Willow and Darcy, she recoiled. “Willow! What the hell?”

  Boyz turned, startled, then snorted. “Oh, Darcy, honey, this is too much.”

  It was Willow who spoke first, in a shaky little girl’s voice, and she squeezed Darcy’s hand so tightly as she spoke, Darcy thought she’d have bruises.

  “Dad, Mom, listen. Something happened. I have to tell you.”

  Autumn surged toward her daughter. “Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine. But I almost did heroin with Logan.” Willow rushed out the words in a breathless squeak.