Independence Day

by Amy Frazier

  Chessie couldn’t even find solace in the newspaper and a cup of coffee. The new carrier had been on the job a week and hadn’t managed to hit the driveway once. This morning’s paper was so far up on the roof she’d have to get a ladder to retrieve it. The kid was supposed to collect today. She’d have to have a word with him.

  Mondays sucked.

  “You look as if you’d lost your best friend.”

  Chessie was startled to see Nick’s sister-in-law Emily standing next to her. “Hey, Em,” she said, brightening. “What brings you by?”

  Emily glanced over her shoulder to her minivan in the driveway. Chessie could see Emily’s four children, plus Alex bouncing so hard in their seats the van was rocking.

  “Did Isabel forget?” Emily asked. “She promised to be mother’s helper at the beach today.”

  “Oh my gosh, I forgot,” said Isabel suddenly appearing in the doorway. This past week she seemed never to be out of earshot. “Give me a minute to get a towel, and I’ll be right with you.”

  “Teenagers.” Chessie smiled weakly.

  “How is Gabriella?” Emily, normally very self-assured, seemed tentative. “Brad listens to the police scanner.”

  “She’s okay physically. She’s in full rebellion, however.”

  Chessie expected Emily to say, Like her mother.

  But she didn’t. “I wanted to call yesterday. To see if there was anything I could do, but Brad told me not to.”

  “I don’t understand.” Chessie had expected the McCabes to descend en masse, and was perplexed when they hadn’t. “Why would he not want you to call?”

  “I…don’t know exactly. Brad, Jonas, Sean and Mariah have always looked up to Nick because he had such a big part in raising them. But when you moved back to Pritchard’s Neck… Brad said Nick seemed to distance himself. Seemed somehow unapproachable and self-contained. He was a little intimidating. Brad said he didn’t think Nick would welcome help, would see it as a sign his family thought he couldn’t handle his own affairs.”

  Chessie was stunned. “Do the others feel this way?”

  “Pretty much. It doesn’t help that we see you and the girls more than him.”

  So Chessie wasn’t the only one who’d seen a change in Nick.

  “I didn’t mean to upset you,” Emily quickly said. “And if there’s anything you need—anything—you just ask.”

  “I will.”

  “I’m ready.” Isabel reappeared in the kitchen with a towel.

  “Honey, you’re going to roast!” Emily exclaimed, looking at her long pants and long-sleeved tee.

  “I don’t want to get sunburned.” Isabel headed to the car where the cousins set up a cheer the minute they spotted her.

  “I have to run,” Emily said, “but remember we’re all here for you.”

  “I’ll remember.” Chessie tried to smile.

  When exactly had they all lost the flesh-and-blood Nick?

  “Gabriella!” She went in search of her daughter and found her in her room, lying facedown on her bed. “Isabel’s helping Aunt Emily. I have to meet Dad at school. You’re to finish the vacuuming, and you’re not to go off the property.”

  “Where would I go? I don’t have any friends.”

  “You’ll make new friends.”

  Chessie hated how curt her answer sounded, but she needed to see Nick immediately, talk to him.

  Gabriella waited until she heard her mother’s car pull out of the driveway, then she headed downstairs. She grabbed a handful of cookies from the cookie jar and walked right by the vacuum cleaner and out onto the side steps where she plopped herself down in the sun to contemplate the rest of the world enjoying the freedom her stupid parents had taken away from her.

  She looked at the cookies in her hand. They weren’t even homemade. Because of her mom’s stupid, stupid strike, they were eating cookies from the store. And cheap store brand, no less. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

  Across the street Mrs. Weiss pulled her SUV into the driveway, followed by Mr. Weiss in his police cruiser. When Keri got out of her mom’s car and walked into the house as if it was just a normal day, Gabriella felt glad her friend was home and seemed okay. But neither Keri nor her parents had even glanced across the street. It was as if Gabriella didn’t exist.

  Could her life get any worse?

  A long shadow passed across her outstretched legs. Shading her eyes, she looked up to see a kid on a bicycle. With the sun behind him, she couldn’t see his features.

  “Madison! You live here?”

  The voice was strangely familiar. But why was he calling her Madison?

  She moved only enough that she could see his face. It was the guy she’d danced with at the Surf Club Saturday night. Oscar or Olaf or Omar.

  “Owen,” he said as if reading her mind.

  “What are you doing here?” Sure she sounded rude, but what was he, some kind of stalker? She’d had enough of Saturday night.

  “I’ve come to collect. I’m your new paper carrier.”

  Gabriella tried not to let her jaw fall on the ground as she took in his words. And that…bicycle?

  “Geez-o-Pete!” she said at last. “How old are you?”

  “Fifteen.” He grinned down at her as if it was a huge joke.

  “But—”

  “You thought I was twenty-one.”

  Gabriella didn’t reply.

  “I wash dishes part-time at the Surf Club. On my break I dance.”

  Just how weird was this guy?

  “Did you have to go to jail?” he asked as if he had a right to know.

  “I wasn’t drinking. Officer Nadick just brought me home.”

  “Lucky you. Did you ever find your friend?”

  Tears stung Gabriella’s eyes. “She had to go to the hospital.”

  “So she was the one dehydrated from E.”

  “What are you talking about? Her father said someone slipped drugs in her soft drink.”

  “Right. If you’re talking about Keri Weiss, I saw her take an Ecstasy tablet from Danny Aiken.”

  “You saw her take it? What else did you see?”

  “Not much. She was dancing pretty hard, but she wasn’t hydrating. Big mistake.”

  “Why?”

  “E dries you out.”

  Gabriella thought about how hot Keri had felt when she’d found her in the restroom. How she’d been hooked up to an IV in the hospital. Maybe this kid was right. Could he be right about Keri taking the drug voluntarily? Then she’d lied to her parents about Gabriella—sacrificed her—to save herself. How low could you go?

  “You didn’t take any, did you?” Owen asked.

  “No.”

  “Smart move.”

  “As if that bought me any cred with my parents.”

  “What’d they do?”

  “Grounded me.”

  “You’ll live.”

  The matter-of-fact way he said it irked Gabriella. “Yeah, well, you know nothing about my stupid life.”

  “So, tell me.”

  “They treat me like a baby.”

  “Do you act like a baby?”

  Gabriella clammed up. She didn’t have to talk to this jerk. And she wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of getting up and going in the house. This was her territory. She wasn’t about to surrender it to some stupid paperboy.

  “Let’s put it this way,” he said as if he didn’t get that she was ignoring him. “Kids are more grown up than their parents think they are and less grown up than we think we are.”

  “What are you—some kind of philosopher?”

  “I’m going to be a playwright. I go to the School for Visual and Performing Arts in Portland.”

  So that’s why she hadn’t seen him around. Wouldn’t have to see him around next year. Good.

  “What else is so awful about your life?” he asked.

  “You gonna put it in a play?”

  “I might. That’s what I like about working at the Surf Club. Good material.�
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  “How about parents who turn their daughter into slave labor.”

  “What kind of labor?”

  “Laundry. Dishes. Cooking. Cleaning.”

  “Grow up. I’ve been doing that since I was in elementary school. It’s just my mom and me. She can’t do everything. Plus I work at the Surf Club, run this paper route and mow lawns for money.”

  “A regular Boy Scout.”

  “I pull my weight.”

  “I can pull my weight.”

  “So do it.”

  “If I do, what’s to stop me from going out on my own?” She thought of her sister leaving home in a year. How lucky was she?

  Owen shrugged. “Nothing.”

  That was the smartest thing he’d said. And Gabriella filed it away for future reference. She didn’t need this guy and his superior attitude any more.

  “My folks aren’t home.” She indicated the money pouch he held in his hand. “If you’re collecting, that is. And they’re a little PO’d you can’t hit the driveway.”

  “Hey,” he shrugged, “it’s my first week. I’ll be back.” He wheeled his bike out of the driveway. “See ya.”

  Not if she saw him first.

  “CHESSIE!” Hattie looked up from her desk in the outer office. “You’re just in time. Nick and a group of us were going out for lunch. Still planning for staff field day. Join us?”

  Talk of staff field day was no inducement.

  As Nick appeared in the doorway, Chessie held up the takeout bag from Branson’s deli. “I thought I might kidnap my husband for the lunch hour.”

  “That’s an even better idea.” Hattie moved to the door. “I even think there might be a clear corner of his conference table. But hurry. You know how nature abhors a vacuum.”

  Hattie left, but Nick remained in his office doorway, looking unsure. Chessie never invaded his work space. She knew he liked to keep his work and private life separate. But maybe he needed a reminder that he actually had a private life.

  “Do you want to eat outside? In the senior courtyard maybe?” he asked.

  “It must be ninety outside. I’d rather stay in the air-conditioning.”

  Reluctantly, it seemed, he stood aside to let her in his office. “How’s your day been?”

  “Not so great. Half my pottery class didn’t show up. Martha’s friends.”

  He didn’t seem to hear her.

  “Where are the girls?”

  “Izzy’s acting as mother’s helper for Emily. At the beach. I left Gabby cleaning downstairs.”

  “Do you think it’s wise to leave her alone?”

  “Nick, she’s fourteen.” She placed the bag on a pile of papers on his conference table, and began to clear a space for them to eat. “Do you think we should get one of those parolee ankle monitors?”

  He didn’t appear amused. Very soberly, he reached for a sheet of paper in his computer printer tray. “Since you’re here, you might as well take a look at my plan before it goes into effect.”

  Confused, she looked at what seemed to be a very detailed list. A professional document. Since when did he consult her on school matters? And then she saw the items on the list, articulated with bullet points:

  • Curfew—10:30 p.m. unless prearranged.

  • Must bring all friends home and introduce them; must provide parents’ names and contact information.

  • Will perform chores on a daily basis. Schedule to be posted.

  • Will obtain and maintain part-time jobs that require no more than nineteen work hours per week or volunteer in one community organization.

  • Will join at least one extracurricular club or school activity.

  There was more, but Chessie stopped reading. “What’s this?”

  “It’s a contract for the girls, to keep them out of trouble.”

  “Were you planning to discuss it with them first?”

  “There’s no discussion.”

  This wasn’t like Nick. Sure, he was a strict father, but they’d always had a round table approach to parenting. As parents, they had final say, but the girls had always been part of the process.

  Then an ugly thought hit her.

  “Were you planning to discuss it with me before you put it before the girls?”

  “You’re here now.”

  “But you didn’t know I would be.” Alarmed, she held the paper under his nose. “Was this going to come as executive fiat?”

  “We have a problem. I thought of a solution.”

  “In the past, Nick, when we had a problem, we came up with a solution.”

  “In the past I’ve pretty much left the girls up to you.” He took the contract out of her hands. “It’s time I got more involved.”

  “You’re saying I’ve done a lousy job of managing our daughters.” She felt her blood pressure rise.

  “I’m not saying that. But considering the events of Saturday night, we need to develop some new strategies.” He held up the contract. “They’re in here.”

  “And you were about to unilaterally set them in motion.”

  “If I recall, about a week ago, you went for a few unilateral changes.”

  “That was different!”

  “How?”

  “I made some temporary moves to get your attention and set up a dialogue.”

  “Temporary, huh?” He began to pace. “After a week, the situation’s starting to feel awfully permanent to me. The house is a disaster. Gabriella’s never behaved so badly. And you’ve slept in your studio as much as you’ve slept in our bed.”

  “Which should highlight the need for that dialogue.” Chessie sighed deeply. “Sit down, please. Let’s have lunch together.”

  He sat and perfunctorily began to eat one of the sandwiches she’d brought.

  “I’m not saying those aren’t good points in your contract,” she conceded. “But I think the four of us need to discuss them. In a safe and neutral environment.” She hesitated, knowing she was heading into sensitive territory. “Like family counseling.”

  “I have a counseling degree. We don’t need to take our problems outside the family.”

  “Then let’s keep it in the family. Emily wanted to know what they could do. You know how teenagers will often listen to other family when they won’t listen to parents. Why not call a McCabe council—”

  “No.” He spoke the word so quietly that, at first, Chessie thought the sound had come from somewhere outside the room. “This is our problem. I’ve solved it.”

  “What is going on between you and your family?” she asked just as quietly.

  “Nothing.”

  “Exactly. Emily says your brothers and sister don’t know how to talk to you. That they think you’ve distanced yourself.”

  “She’s got it wrong.”

  “She wanted to call when she heard about Gabriella, but Brad wouldn’t let her in case you’d think they thought you were weak, or some such malarkey.”

  “Chessie, we’ve been away since we graduated high school. We’ve handled our own problems. My family knows that. They’re just giving us a little privacy.”

  “The girls and I have spent more time with them than you have this past year. Privacy is not in their vocabulary.”

  “Whatever. I don’t need their help.”

  “What is this I business? We need help.”

  “The girls need help, yes, but I’m the one with all the degrees in child development and education. Let me do what I do best, Chessie.”

  She was stunned. He’d never pulled rank on her before. “You won’t let a counselor help us,” she said when she’d regained her composure. “You won’t let your family help us. You won’t let me help us. You’re taking everything on your shoulders.”

  “I can handle it. I signed a contract to manage a whole school full of Gabriellas and Isabels. I’ve shouldered heavier stuff than we’re talking here.”

  “We’re your family. Not a school system. You can’t administer us.”

  “I’m doing
what’s right.”

  “I’m sorry.” Hattie appeared in the doorway. “I never got to lunch. There’s a shipment of science textbooks about to be unloaded, but they’re definitely not the editions we ordered. We need you, Nick.”

  He got up with a look that clearly said, At least someone does.

  “I’ll see you at home,” he said, and then he was gone.

  Chessie wished she had some laundry to throw out the window. Or a trumpet to blast. Or some dishes to break. If she read him correctly, Nick had just laid down the law. And what did he expect her to do in response to his big counter-move? Run up the white flag?

  Well, she wasn’t going to. Somewhere in the craziness of the past week, she’d come to the realization that she couldn’t return to the way things had been. They were going to have to find their way out of this marital trough, and, hopefully, together.

  On the way home she stopped at the bakery and ordered two eclairs. When she’d eaten every last gooey morsel, she picked up ingredients for a healthier supper. Still eons away from realizing any benefit from her revolution, it was her night to cook. Whoopee!

  CHAPTER TEN

  NICK HAD SOMETHING to do before heading home to supper. He didn’t want to do it, but it had been bothering him all afternoon.

  He pulled in to the McCabe lobster pound in search of Sean. Although Sean was nine years younger than Nick, Nick always felt the most at ease with him of all his family. Sean was a lot like Nick. Self-contained and least likely to stick his nose into another man’s business. But Sean would tell him what family scuttlebutt was making the rounds about him, Chessie and the girls.

  Parking next to a car with out-of-state plates, he saw a Help Wanted sign in the pound window, and wondered if it might be a job Gabriella or Isabel could handle. Inside, several customers stood around a tank pointing to live lobsters they wanted cooked while his father retrieved them with a large net.

  “Hey, Pop. Is Sean around?”

  “Out on the wharf.”

  As Nick made his way outside, his father called after him. “That’s it? That’s my visit for the month?”

  Nick let the dig slide. Everybody seemed to want a piece of him, but there was only so much to go around.