I might be able to forgive Mom’s tipsiness for fondue. Maybe.
“Oh, by the way, I brought you a present,” Ben said. “But I left it in the living room.”
Mom brought over a silver tray loaded with little white fluted paper cups. “Well, isn’t that nice of you?” she said. “That was very thoughtful.”
Ben was seated across from me, and he leaned forward conspiratorially. “It’s a Barbie. Doctor Barbie. I looked, but they didn’t have Perfumer Barbie, or even Artist Barbie. I thought about getting you Hippie Barbie, but I didn’t want you to get the wrong idea. At least Doctor Barbie is a businesswoman.”
I laughed. “Thank you, Ben. That’s a great gift.”
Dad looked baffled by the whole thing. “Aren’t you kind of old for Barbies, Abbey?” he said.
“It’s an inside joke, Dad. Something Ben told me at the library when we were working on the science-fair project last year. It was about his sister and Barbies.”
“Ohhhhh, okay.”
He totally didn’t get it, but I did. It was sweet.
Mom passed the silver tray to me, and I reached for one of the paper cups. It had a round brown disc filled with something green inside of it. “What is it?” I asked.
“It’s spinach-stuffed portobello,” she said with a hopeful grin.
I put the blobby thing back down. “But… I don’t like mushrooms, Mom. You know that.”
Her face fell, and she looked crushed. “You don’t? I could have sworn you liked them.”
A moment of stunned silence filled the dining room, and everyone waited for me to make a move.
“Don’t worry about it.” I passed the tray on to Ben. “Leaves more room for…” I scanned the table and saw the edge of a garlic knot peeking out from a cloth-covered serving dish. “Garlic knots! Mmmmm, I love garlic knots! Pass me those, please.”
Ben took three of the stuffed mushrooms, and as soon as Dad passed me the garlic knots, I loaded my plate.
Within seconds we were all crunching and chewing and discreetly wiping our fingers on our napkins. Then we moved on to some chilled tomato basil soup (which I actually did like), and Mom poured herself a glass of wine.
I shot a worried glance over at Dad, but he didn’t seem to notice.
“So Ben, why don’t you tell my parents about your summer jobs?” I said. Anything to keep the conversation from turning to me and my naked baby pictures, or something equally embarrassing.
Ben gamely joined in. “I’m a busboy at the Horseman’s Haunt. Nothing important about that, but they do let me take home the special of the day after each shift. Great perks, there.” He stopped talking while Mom brought out the main course, lasagna, and dished out a piece to each of us.
“Go on,” she told him, spatula in hand, “I’m lishening.” She giggled. “Oops! I mean, I’m listening.”
I clutched a fistful of skirt under the table and sent up a prayer to the lasagna gods that she wouldn’t accidentally drop Ben’s dinner into his lap. Luckily, Dad sprang into action.
“Why don’t you have a seat, dear?” he said to her. “You’ve worked so hard on this dinner; let me help you.”
Mom beamed at him and patted his face. “Okay.”
Thank you, oh lasagna gods.
“So, the um, other job… ,” Ben said.
“Yes, yes, go on,” Mom urged, wine glass in hand.
Dear wine gods…
“I’m going to be helping my dad. He wants to plant some Christmas trees, and I’m going to work for him.”
A piece of lasagna landed on my plate, and I thanked Dad. It looked really good, and I couldn’t wait to dig in.
“What’s involved in Christmas-tree farming?” Dad asked. He took his seat and lifted his fork.
I bit into my food as I waited for Ben’s answer.
And two seconds later I almost spit it back out again. Good Lord, that was nasty.
“I’m not really sure,” Ben said. He took a big bite of his lasagna and chewed enthusiastically. “I’m guessing it will be a lot of digging holes and planting trees. Then watering, and maybe fertilizing them?”
Dad nodded, and I took a second to look down at my plate. White filling oozed out of the bitten edges, and my stomach turned.
Great. Another thing Mom had screwed up.
I peeked over at her, but she seemed blissfully unaware of her mistake.
“I think ish verrry exciting to have a Christmas-tree farm here. It will be an asset to our community!”
Ahhh, she wasn’t wasted enough to stop thinking about her precious town council, though. A lump started forming in my throat, and I had to blink back tears. Nice, Mom. This birthday sucks.… My food sucks.…
“I know that my dad is looking forward to it,” Ben said. “I just hope he’ll be able to share his trees with the rest of the town—”
Suddenly, Mom sat straight up. “Oh, no!” she wailed. “No, no, no!”
Ben, Dad, and I traded puzzled glances. What’s wrong now?
“This has ricotta cheese in it!” Mom held up her fork with a piece of the offending meal on it. “Abbey hates ricotta cheese!”
And she promptly burst into tears.
All my feelings of hurt and anger immediately left, and I was filled with shame instead. “Mom, no.” I put out a hand, but Dad was already reaching for her. “Look, Mom, I love it.”
With Herculean effort I lifted another forkful to my mouth. Don’t grimace, don’t grimace… I shoveled it in and gouged my thumbnail into my leg under the table at the same time.
Focus on the pain. Something else to think about…
Chew, chew, swallow… done.
I reached for my water glass, took a very large sip, and smiled widely at her. “See?”
She stopped crying and gazed at me through wet eyes. “Are you… sure?” She sniffled once. “You really like it?”
I nodded. “It’s great, Mom.”
She clumsily got up and came to give me a hug.
When she sat down, I looked at what was left on my plate. It’s times like these we could really use a dog. After cutting up the remaining piece into smaller bits, I pushed them around a lot, moving them from side to side to make it look like I’d eaten more than I actually had. I think it worked. Mom didn’t seem to notice.
Mercifully, everyone ate quickly, and then Dad suggested that I open my presents. I wholeheartedly agreed. He came around and gathered the dishes, starting with mine first, and I mouthed a silent Thank you. Then he sent Mom off to get the gifts.
I leaned across the table to Ben. “I’m so sorry.” I had to fight back tears. “My mom’s totally not like this. It’s just that today was an emotional day for her, and…”
He just shook his head. “It’s cool, Abbey. Don’t worry about it.” It looked like he was going to say more, but then Mom came back in with a small pile and sat it in front of me.
“Here we go,” she announced, grinning from ear to ear. “Happy, happy birthday, Abbey!”
Dad finished with the plates and came to stand beside her. Discreetly, he pushed her half-full glass of wine out of her reach.
“Happy birthday, Abbey,” he said. “Go ahead and open the small one first. Leave the big one for last.”
I reached for the present on top, a flat, rectangular box wrapped in bright blue and red paper. It was the cherry on a bizarrely colored birthday sundae, adorned with carefully curled ribbons in a multitude of colors. I ripped open one end, pulled out a smaller brown box, and slid back the lid. Nestled on a plump square of white cotton was a gift card for a clothing store at the mall.
“I picked that one up,” Dad said proudly.
“Thanks, Dad. It’s great.”
Next up was an iTunes gift card, a new messenger bag, a pair of shoes… and then I got to the big one on the bottom. It was square and kind of heavy, and wrapped in green polka-dotted paper. As I tore off the wrapping, I was absolutely shocked to find a brand-new laptop staring up at me.
“Wo
w, guys! I don’t even know what to say. Thank you, thank you!” I jumped up and gave them both a hug. Mom held on a little too long, and I was afraid that she’d start crying again, but she didn’t.
“Ish red,” Mom said. “Your favorite color.”
Dad jumped in. “That should help you with your business plan.”
“You’re going to let me have more time?” I thought our deal was over since I hadn’t finished it by the end of the school year.
“Yup. Since things”—he shot a look at Ben—“came up… I figured that we can make a new deal. Same terms as before. Finish the plan, and I’ll give you some start-up money, but let’s make the deadline the first of September. Sound good?”
“Yeah,” I said, smiling back. “It does.”
Mom threw her arms around me again. “This calls for a toast!”
“No, Mom… really, it’s okay—”
“I’ll get the glasses! Dennis, you go get the cake.”
She moved quicker than I thought she could, and didn’t wait for Dad, instead bringing the cake over herself. As she plopped it down on the table, I watched the golden edges of a custard chiffon quiver with the force of her movement.
Here we go.…
Next she moved for the bottle of wine.
“Some for me, some for your father, and here…” She pulled my goblet, then Ben’s, closer to her. “A little bit for both of you. Not too mush now.”
I grimaced and was extremely grateful when she finally put the bottle down. I glanced over at Dad, but he didn’t seem to know what to do.
Mom picked up her glass and waited for the rest of us to follow suit. “Come on, come on,” she urged. “A toast.”
I lifted my goblet and Ben did the same. That queasy feeling was back, and I prayed for this to be over quickly.
“Seventeen years ago,” started Mom, “my preshus little girl was born. And I couldn’t have been happier. My beautiful daughter, Abigail Amelia…” I cringed when she said my middle name. No one knew my middle name.
Well, strike that. Now one person knew it.
“From your first step, to your first word. Your first day of school, and your first loose tooth…” She lost her train of thought and stared off into space. A moment later she came back and took a deep sip of her wine.
“And now look at you,” she said suddenly. “All grown up. Making business plans. And life plans. Here on your birthday, with a boy…” She grinned at Ben.
Oh God, this is going downhill fast. I cleared my throat.
“I’m just so glad you’re back with ush again, Abbey,” she said, turning her gaze to me. “I’m so glad you’re home. And not seeing a doctor. I really missed—”
“What I think your mother’s trying to say is that of course we’re proud of the girl you used to be, but we’re even prouder of the young woman you’re becoming. Hear, hear!”
Thank God Dad stepped in and cut her off. I was starting to sweat bullets.
“Hear, hear!” said Mom, raising her wine glass.
I raised mine, too, and downed what little was in there in one gulp. I noticed that Ben did the same thing.
“And now I’ll cut the cake,” Mom crowed.
Dad reached out and plucked the glass from her hand. “That’s okay, dear. Why don’t we let Abbey and Ben have some time together? I need your help with something in the… living room.”
Mom nodded and put one finger in front of her lips. “Shhh, it’s time for some alone time.” She giggled. “I understand.”
Giving us a not-so-subtle wink, she let Dad steer her out of the room.
Desperate for something else to take the attention off the situation, I grasped at the first thing that came to mind. “Do you want to go outside and get some fresh air?” I asked Ben. “God, I could really use some fresh air right now.”
Ben nodded and put his goblet down. I did the same and turned to lead the way out. Then my stomach growled loudly.
“Why don’t you bring the cake?” Ben suggested. “We’ll eat some out there.”
I reached for the cake and picked it up. “Forks?”
“That’s what God made fingers for,” he replied.
The cake quivered in my hands, tiny blobs of lemon custard sliding around on the plate, and Ben held open the door. With a deep breath I took a step out into the muggy night air. And wondered if this night could get any worse.
Chapter Eight
MORSE CODE
Every sound of nature, at that witching hour, fluttered his excited imagination… The fire-flies, too, which sparkled most vividly in the darkest places, now and then startled him…
—“The Legend of Sleepy Hollow”
We sat down on the porch steps—Ben on the first one and me on the third. I placed the cake on the step between us and stared at it, watching its glistening sides in the pale glow of a dim bulb above us. Bugs fluttered and hovered around the light, their wings making oversized shadow puppets on the wall next to us.
I didn’t even know where to start, what to offer as an excuse for why Mom had said what she’d said, how to explain… So I just sat there, running my thumb and forefinger back and forth across my necklace. What do I say? What’s he thinking?
I poked a finger at the cake and swiped off some stray custard. Maybe sugar would give me courage. Licking my fingertip, I sat back and prepared myself to come up with something clever. “Ben, I…”
“You don’t have to explain your parents, Abbey. Mine freak out all the time. I think it’s a side effect of getting old or something,” he said.
I laughed, and he smiled. “The really important thing here is where your finger’s been.”
“What?” I looked at him in confusion.
“You just swiped some icing,” Ben said. “I saw you. Do you know how many germs are on your hands?”
“But I thought you didn’t want to use a fork.”
He reached out and tore off a hunk of the cake. “I don’t. I just wanted the first piece.”
But then he graciously offered his prize to me, and I accepted. Grinning, he shoved a smaller bite into his mouth and started chewing. “That,” Ben said, sucking bits of frosting off his fingers, “is good cake.”
I bit into my piece. “We got it from this great little bakery over on DeWalt Street. They have the best desserts there.”
Ben scooped up another bite and offered me half. I had to scoot closer to take it from him. “So what did you do for your birthday last year?” he asked.
I sat there for a minute. Fireflies winked on and off in the grassy yard near us. “Last year I didn’t really do anything. Kristen was… missing, and I wasn’t in the mood to celebrate.” Looking down at my lap, I brushed away a speck of a crumb. Those memories were sad, and I didn’t want to think about that. So I said, “But the year before, Kristen and I went into the city to see Rent. My parents got us this limo, and we took it all over Manhattan. Nothing like seeing the sights while you’re stuck in rush-hour traffic. We saw a whole bunch of alleys and backs of buildings.”
“I bet you had a great time, though,” Ben said.
“Yeah, we really did.” I stroked my star necklace. I wish she could have been here for this birthday. I wish I would have gotten to share it with her.
The fireflies glowed, and I closed one eye. It almost looked like they were blinking in Morse code.
“Do you know Morse code?” I mused out loud.
Ben must have been distracted, because he looked startled. “What?”
“Do you know Morse code?” I repeated, standing up. “Look. The fireflies are blinking in Morse code. It’s some kind of secret message.” I stepped out into the yard and glanced back at him. “Help me catch one.”
He looked at me with an amused smile. “What is this? Your eighth-birthday party?”
“Don’t make me pout. Or cry. Cuz it’s my party, and I’ll cry if I want to.”
Ben laughed and stood up. Then he lunged at me. “Almost had one there.”
“
You did not.” I punched his arm lightly. “You just wanted to scare me.”
He shrugged and turned away. “Maybe.”
I spotted one flying toward the trees and started after it. With my hands cupped together, I combed the air and then quickly closed them. Moving back to the light, I cracked them open to see if I’d caught the glowing prize.
But my hands were empty. “Aww, I thought I had one.” Sudden movement in the corner of my eye had me spinning around again, and I scooped my hands through the air. I felt something small catch. “I got one! I got one!”
Ben came over, and I opened my hands wider so that we could both see in. A small, black winged bug crawled steadily across my cupped palm.
“Bring it here, out of the light, so we can see it blink,” he suggested.
Holding my tiny captive carefully so that I didn’t squish him, I followed Ben back toward the trees. My hands lit up every couple of seconds.
Ben leaned in closer and cupped his hands around mine. “Wait, he’s saying something.”
I leaned in too and held my breath. Does he really know Morse code?
“Happy… birth… day… Happy birthday… Abbey.” Ben looked up at me and smiled. “The lightning bug wanted to wish you a happy birthday.”
Our hands were touching, but now our heads were almost touching too. My eyes were finally adjusting to the darkness, and I could see the outline of his eyes, his nose, and his lips. He was staring at me, and I could tell he was noticing the lack of space between us.
Shifting my weight, I moved slightly closer. Is this… ? Are we going to… ?
A buzzing sensation drew my attention from Ben, and I realized that the firefly was trying to escape. “Oh!” I moved my hands away from his. The flapping of tiny insect wings against my skin was giving me the creepy crawlies.
The Haunted Page 8
