Slowly, she smiled. “Well, if it was the only way you could keep him from shooting you…”
The kiss had opened a door he hadn’t known was closed between them. They weren’t just friends anymore. He didn’t have a name for what they were, but whatever it was, it had to be something synonymous with wonderful. “What are you doing three weeks from today?”
“I don’t know. Probably physical therapy or something just as bad. Why?”
“My dad has connections with someone on the Lilith tour and he said he could get me a couple of tickets if I wanted.”
“Oh, my God. I’d love to go. That’s so cool.”
“You think you should ask your mother first?”
“Why? She never tells me—” She stopped, remembering. “Oh, you mean because I might still be in bandages. She can’t keep me locked up forever.”
“I’ll tell my dad to get the tickets and if you can’t go, we’ll do something else.” He held out his hand. “If we don’t get back, your mom is going to come looking for us.”
Tentatively, she put her hand in his. “That’s so cool about Lilith. Wendy is going to be so jealous.”
When they were outside Lynda’s room, Brian said, “I still have some running around I have to do for my dad so I don’t know what time I’ll get to your house.”
“Don’t worry about it. My mom will probably make me take a nap anyway.”
“See you later then.” He wanted to kiss her again, but it wasn’t the time or place.
“Bye.” She looked at him for a long time before she put her hand on the door to go inside.
Brian waved, then turned and walked away. Later, he tried to remember how he got to his car, but his only memory was the way Lynda had smiled when she said good-bye.
17
“YOU’RE CERTAINLY IN A GOOD MOOD,” Catherine said.
Lynda smiled. Not even the intense itching that had started the minute she got in the car could spoil the ride home. “I’m free!” she shouted. “You can’t imagine how it feels.”
“I think I have a pretty good idea.”
Everything seemed different: bigger, louder, dirtier, cleaner, brighter. She noticed things she never had before, like how many pigeons could sit on a billboard and all face the same way and how many cars were on the road even when it wasn’t rush hour. She saw flowers she didn’t recognize, but she knew they bloomed at the same time and place every year.
“When are we going to get our own car back?” she asked. “This one stinks.”
“It’s the air freshener they use to cover the cigarette smell.”
“Couldn’t you make them give you another one?”
“They all smelled like this and I thought it was only going to be a couple of days before I got the Lincoln back. Now they tell me it will be at least another week.”
“It’s going to be hot today,” she said, changing the subject. If they talked about the car anymore, they were going to end up talking about Tom. Yuk.
“The paper said we could hit a hundred.”
“I wish I could go swimming.”
“You’re supposed to wait until you—”
“I know, Mom. I was just thinking out loud.” Her mother had something to say about everything lately, a warning from one of the doctors or nurses or social workers about being careful or taking things slow or what she could and couldn’t do. The only person she never quoted was Rick, at least not about rules and restrictions. With him it was good stuff or funny things about his job.
Now probably wasn’t the time to tell her about the concert, but Lynda had to tell someone. “Remember last year when I told Dad I wanted to fly to Denver for my birthday and go to the Lilith concert?”
“And he said he couldn’t get the time off to go with you.”
“Remember how I really, really wanted to go anyway and said I’d take the money out of my savings, but you wouldn’t let me?”
“Just spit it out, Lynda.”
“What if I told you I had a chance to go this year? Not to Denver,” she quickly added. “To Concord. That’s only a couple of hours away.”
“When?”
“Three weeks.”
Catherine didn’t say anything right away. “I suppose we could try to get tickets, but don’t count on it. As popular as that tour is, I can’t believe they aren’t already sold out.”
Lynda’s hopeful tone was impossible to miss. “Brian has two tickets. He wants to take me.”
“You’re kidding.”
“Why do you sound so surprised?” she shot back, her voice heavy with hurt.
“You’ve got to stop taking everything so personally. I found out a couple of weeks ago that Lilith was going to be in Concord and I’ve had Uncle Gene looking for tickets. I wanted to surprise you for your homecoming.”
Instead of feeling chastised, she was excited. “That must mean you checked with the doctors and it will be okay for me to be in crowds by then.”
“As long as you keep improving the way you have been.”
“Cool.” She could hardly wait to tell Brian. And Wendy. She had to find a way for Wendy to meet Brian. Neither she nor Wendy had ever gone out with anyone the other didn’t know. Half the fun of dating was talking about it the next day.
The first thing she was going to do when she got home was call Wendy. And apologize. And find out what she’d been doing. And tell her about being in the hospital. And about Brian. Mostly about Brian.
They were home. Almost.
Catherine pulled up to the gate, but instead of letting them in, the guard picked up the phone and made a call. He then leaned down and waved to Lynda and gave her a huge, conspiratorial smile. She returned the wave with a little too much enthusiasm and winced as she lowered her arm. It was unbelievable how fast the skin tightened where her back and arms connected and how much it hurt to keep it loose.
As soon as her mother drove around the corner, Lynda spotted the cars lining the roadway. Every space on both sides was filled. Dozens of oak trees sported red and white ribbons and dozens of her friends lined the driveway, all of them holding red and white balloons. A banner stretched from one side of the garage to the other. It said, WELCOME HOME LYNDA.
Catherine covered Lynda’s hand with her own. “I hope it’s okay. They wanted to do this and I didn’t know how to tell them they couldn’t.”
Lynda nodded, terrified and excited, pleased but troubled, too. “I thought they’d all be mad at me.”
Brian stood at the top of the driveway, a giant red-and-white stuffed bear in his arms, the bear wearing a duplicate, but smaller, welcome-home banner. Lynda started to cry. Catherine reached in her purse for a tissue.
Her friends surrounded the car when Catherine pulled to a stop at the top of the driveway, calling out greetings and good wishes, warm and loving words that melded into a swell of emotion. Lynda wasn’t the only one crying. Even Brian blinked away tears when he opened the car door.
The only thing missing were the hugs. No one touched her. They didn’t know how. She laughed at the awkward, funny things that were said and started crying again when she saw Wendy crying. When a natural lull occurred, Catherine suggested they head for the air-conditioning and start the party.
Anxious to let everyone know how much she’d missed seeing them, Lynda moved from group to group, trying not to miss anyone. No one asked about her burns. Not one person. It was as if they’d all gotten together and decided not to. At first, Lynda was grateful. She was exhausted with the subject of being burned and just wanted to be normal again, if only for a couple of hours and only in her mind. After a while she began to realize that ignoring the obvious didn’t make her a part of the group, it separated her. They were like actors in some bizarre play with scripted lines that had nothing to do with reality.
She was in the middle of a conversation with the girl who’d taken her place on the cheerleading squad about one of their teachers when the doorbell rang. She knew her mother would answer, but used it as an exc
use to get away. Being gracious to her replacement wasn’t as easy as she’d thought.
She saw Rick through the glass before she opened the door. Having him there was what she needed. He always made her feel better. He bowed gallantly, and ceremoniously handed her a new, bright red cap for her collection. Embroidered across the front, in bold white letters, was something he’d told her on one of her particularly bad days at the hospital: SOMETIMES REAL COURAGE IS FOUND IN A SMILE.
She looked at him and purposely forced a smile.
“Not going well?”
Shaking her head, she admitted, “It’s not the same.” Damn. She was crying again.
He motioned for her to come outside. “Tell me what’s changed.”
She stepped onto the porch and closed the door. “Everything…me, I guess. They all stayed the same, but I didn’t. I feel like an outsider.”
“You had something happen to you that none of your friends can understand. They can try, but no matter how much effort they give it, they will never know what you’ve gone through and why it’s changed you. That doesn’t mean you can’t fit in again, it just means you have to give it some time, recognize the hard days for what they are, and remember you got through the last one and you’ll get through this one, too.”
“No one cares what happened to me. They don’t even ask. And if I try to tell them, they change the subject.” She’d finally tired of the awkward pretense and had tried to move past it, but no one would let her.
“Stop and think about that a minute. If they didn’t care, would they be here?”
“You don’t know my friends. They’ll do anything for a party.”
“Feeling a little prickly, I see.”
She was never this way with Brian or her mother or grandmother, or even Uncle Gene. Only with Rick. With him she said what she felt.
“I’m tired.”
“It’s been a big day.” He leaned his shoulder against the side of the house. “Would you like me to get everyone to go home?”
“How?”
“I could tell them that the doctors just discovered you’d picked up a virus at the hospital that causes pimples and is highly contagious.”
She laughed. “That would do it, all right. And I wouldn’t have to worry about anyone ever coming back.”
“Do you want me to talk to them for you, explain a little about what you’ve been going through?”
He’d told her that part of the mentor program was going to school with kids on their first day back to explain about being burned. The mentors encouraged questions and usually got a lot, mostly about the pressure garments. At first the program had been geared toward the lower grades, but it turned out to be even more effective in high school. Like everything he did, Rick made it clear that the assembly wasn’t a mandatory part of the program. She had the right to say no to whatever she wanted. He was the one person involved in her recovery who gave her that option.
“Thanks,” she said. “But I don’t think they’re ready to hear all the gory details.”
“You could be underestimating them.”
“Maybe…”
“Let me know if you change your mind.” He pushed himself away from the wall. “I’m going inside to say hello to your mom. And then I have to leave to pick up some hardware for the cupboards I installed yesterday.”
She didn’t want him to go. Having him there was like having someone on her side, someone who understood without being told. “It’s only three thirty.”
“The store is in Florin. If I don’t take off in a couple of minutes, I’m going to get stuck in traffic on Sunrise.”
“You should have called us at the hospital. We could have picked them up for you before we came home.”
He gently tapped the brim of her cap, forcing it lower on her forehead. “Be careful—I just might take you up on your offer one of these days.”
She pushed the cap back into place, completing what had become a parting ritual between them. “Thanks for the hat.”
“You’re welcome.” He held the door. “Coming?”
She shook her head. “I’m going to stay out here a little while longer.”
“Not too much longer, okay? And not in the sun.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah.”
He laughed. “I must not be the first one who said that today.”
“The line forms to the left.”
“If I miss seeing you before I leave, you know where you can reach me if you need something.”
“Tell Mom I’m out here, will you? And tell her not to worry, that I know not to stay out too long.”
She waited until he was inside before she headed down the crushed-rock pathway that led around the house. She wasn’t going to last outside much longer—she was already starting to get dizzy from the heat—but she wanted a minute to savor her freedom, and the side deck was the one place she figured she could do that alone.
But she’d figured wrong. She heard voices as soon as she neared the corner of the house. Frustrated, she took a second to consider whether she should join whoever was on the deck or look for someplace else for her moment of privacy. Or maybe she should simply give up and go back inside with the others. In that second she heard enough to realize she was the topic of conversation.
She knew it was dangerous to stand there and listen, and that she should walk away before she heard something she didn’t want to hear, but the message failed to reach her feet until it was too late.
“I’ll bet Shawn is glad now that they broke up when they did. He could be where that guy Brian is.”
“You mean stuck?”
Someone laughed. Someone else joined in.
“Hey, don’t be so greedy,” a new voice protested. “It’s my turn.”
The words clicked when Lynda caught the faint smell of marijuana smoke.
Someone coughed.
“God, can you imagine having your head shaved like that?” a girl said.
“Is she going to have to shave her back from now on?”
That brought more laughter and, “What an idiot. They didn’t take the hair, just the skin.”
“What’s with the fringe? She can’t think she’s fooling anybody.” This from a guy.
“It must be awful when she has to look in a mirror to comb it.” Again a girl.
“Maybe she doesn’t. I know I wouldn’t.”
“Don’t you guys think it’s sad?” Yet another female voice. “She used to be so pretty.”
Lynda had heard enough. To stay for more was tantamount to sticking pins in her leg to see how much she would bleed. But before she could move, before she could protect herself from hearing more, she heard the words that broke her heart.
“I was listening to Wendy and Brian talking in the kitchen. He told her that he felt responsible for what happened to Lynda and that’s why he’s stuck around all this time.”
“Duh.”
They all laughed.
Lynda was going to be sick. She felt her stomach tighten and a burning feeling in her throat. Dear God, she couldn’t let it happen. Not here. Not now. Not where they might find her. She couldn’t let them know she’d heard. She put her hand to her mouth and swallowed. Hard. Again and again, until she was sure she’d stopped the spasms.
No one could see her. Not like this. But if she left, they’d only come looking for her. And then everyone would know.
Oh, God. Her back itched. And her arms. Worse than ever. She had to scratch. Just once, or she wouldn’t be able to stand it anymore.
Her fingers dug into her elbow. She gasped at the pain. But it was a good pain, a blinding, searing pain that made her incapable of hearing or seeing or feeling anything else.
Someone came out of the house. She almost cried with relief when she saw it was Rick and not one of her so-called friends.
“Are you all right?” he asked as he came up to her.
She didn’t know how to answer him.
He asked again. “Are you all right?” When she didn’t answ
er this time, he cupped her chin and made her look at him. “Talk to me,” he insisted.
She shook her head.
“What’s wrong?”
“My arm. It was itching so bad. I scratched it. I didn’t think.”
“Come inside.” He moved to let her go first, then stopped her at the door, pulled his shirt from his jeans, and used the hem to wipe the tears from her cheeks. “Blink.”
“What?”
“If you go in there looking like you’ve been crying, you’re going to have everyone asking what happened. I don’t think that’s what you want right now.”
Somehow he knew her tears weren’t because she’d hurt herself. She did as he told her and blinked, then took a deep breath. “Now?”
“Now.”
She hung back. “I can’t.”
“Remember the hat.”
“What?”
“Real courage is found in a smile.”
“Screw courage.”
“Physically impossible, but point taken.”
He was right. She had to go in the house and she didn’t want them to see that she was upset. She wiped her eyes, rubbed her cheeks hard to give them color, and took a deep breath. “All right. I’m ready.”
He followed her inside, not so close to make it obvious he was with her, but close enough for her to feel his support. Lynda went into the family room, picked up a glass, and tapped it with a coaster to gain attention.
“Hey, everybody. I want to thank you for coming—and for being such good friends.” If she could say that, she could say anything. “I hate to admit this, but when the doctor told me I’d get tired easily, I didn’t believe her. Guess what? She was right.”
She looked around the room, trying to figure out who was missing. But it didn’t matter. Not really. If some of them were talking about her, they all were.
“I’m sorry to cut out before the party’s over, but it’s that or fall asleep while someone’s talking to me. And if I did that, they just might end up talking about me. I certainly wouldn’t want that to happen. Who knows what they might say?”
She could sense Brian when he moved to stand next to her and knew that he was concerned by how close he stood, but she also knew that she wouldn’t make it through the rest of what she wanted to say if she chanced a look at him.
Disguised Blessing Page 14
