by Luanne Rice
Those were the feelings rushing around in my body, and the only word I could think of came babbling out of my lips … “Mary.” I kept saying her name as if she was really there, in the room with me, as if she could hear me somehow.
Off came my winter boots and heavy socks, and I guess that's good. Because if I really wanted to go into that pool and never come out, I probably would have left them on my feet to weigh me down. Up, up, I rolled the legs of my pants. I put one foot onto the top step, into the water, then the other.
Mary had swum here. She and her sister had stood in this room, talking and laughing. I sat on the edge of the pool, feeling the warm water bathe my ankles, and I tried to surround myself with their sister love. Why go on? I was young, only fourteen, and already I'd lost so much of what I loved. Wouldn't life just keep taking things away?
Beautiful things that seemed so easily given, and so quickly and just as easily taken back? We'd been so happy, our whole family. We'd had those summers on the lake. The sunrises and starlit nights. The laughs and stories around the fire. My father's strong arm around my shoulders.
I no longer believed that Carrie was coming home. I stared down at my feet in the clear water of Mary's pool, and could almost see myself walking into the lake, my bare feet on the pebbly shore, water lapping against my legs. That water had taken my father; no matter where she might be that moment, it had taken my sister.
My eyes burned with tears so hot they hurt. J.D. was Carrie's father, not my father. My mother had lied and lied. Our family story dissolved like bubbles in the pool. What we thought had been real was false, what we hoped would last forever had never even existed.
How would it feel to drown? Would it hurt? Would it be like going to sleep? I wanted Mary to hold my hand, help me stop the pain. I know it's crazy but I reached out for her. I closed my eyes, waiting for her to come for me. I must have sat there a few minutes like that. Then I heard the latch click, footsteps on the marble.
“Beck.”
The voice didn't belong to a girl, to a ghost. It was a man's. Mr. Campbell.
I looked up with what must have been a pretty funny expression on my face.
“How did you know I was here?”
“Redmond showed me Mary's diary,” he said. “And I looked inside and saw what you'd written.”
I remembered the scrap of paper I'd left there, notations from the work Lucy and I had done, trying to bring our dead back to life. We'd always imagined it happening right here, at the pool. I opened my eyes and looked at my feet, magnified by the water.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“Nothing,” I said.
I looked up at him, saw him standing very close, as if about to grab me.
“I'm not going to jump in,” I said.
“That's good,” he said. Great timing: his cell phone rang. I watched him start to smile as he looked at the number on the screen. “Uh, I have to take this call,” he said. “Awkward timing.”
I shrugged in a very be-my-guest way. He talked in a low, excited voice. It did pique my curiosity, but I tried not to show it.
“Come on,” he said, pocketing the phone.
“Let me stay here awhile,” I said.
“I think you'd rather come with me. Don't you want to see your sister?”
I stared at him, feeling sad for him. I know he was concerned about me, hearing what J.D. said. He was such a teacher. He wanted to get me all involved with solving the problem. Equations, axioms of proof. I just shook my head.
“You're giving up?” he asked.
“Giving up on what?” I asked. “There's nothing to do. We don't even know that she's alive for sure. Not for sure.”
“Maybe we do,” he said. Just three words, but they made the hair stand up on the back of my neck.
“What are you talking about?”
“Get your boots on, Beck,” Mr. Campbell said.
“But…”
“Hurry up,” he said. “We have to go now.”
So I grabbed my boots, tugged them on over my socks, and rode Mary's ornate brass elevator with Mr. Campbell down to the school's first floor. The cables creaked. Wind whistled down the elevator shaft and I swear I heard it, or Mary, or Carrie, saying my name. And the elevator doors opened, and we ran through the marble hall and out the building as if someone's life depended on it.
And I'm pretty sure that someone's did.
24STEPHEN AND BECK HURRIED DOWN THE STEPS of Blackstone Hall, through the falling snow. He opened the passenger door of his rusty red Panda, eased her inside. He locked the door behind her, just in case she had any notions of escape. Then he got behind the wheel, started the car, and turned the heat on full-blast. The salt air seemed to hold the cold, conduct it straight through his skin and into his bones. Glancing over, he saw Beck shivering wildly.
“Here,” he said, slipping off his down jacket. “Put this on.”
“No,” she said.
“Come on, Beck. You're freezing.”
Darkness had fallen fast, the storm had moved in. The wipers were working hard. Ribbons of head-and taillights streaked up and down Memorial Boulevard. He headed downtown, inching along the slippery pavement. If he hurried, J.D. would have a welcoming committee.
Stephen took his eyes off the road for a second, glancing over at Beck. She stared straight ahead, seeming almost calm. Snow mixed with sleet; a sand truck went by in the opposite direction, spraying a burst of grit against the car doors. Beck didn't react.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“Where are we going?” she asked, ignoring his question.
The car skidded; he held the wheel, wondering how much to tell her. He'd been afraid for her ever since seeing her react to J.D.'s news. The wild look in her eyes, the way she'd run off. Then the incident with Mrs. Nicholson, and finding Beck sitting by the pool, coiled as if she was about to jump in.
“You scared me up there,” he said.
“I wasn't going to kill myself,” she said.
“I know you're upset about what happened,” he said.
She shrugged. “I'll probably get expelled, but I don't really care.”
“First of all, I won't let anyone expel you. But that's not what I'm talking about,” he said after a moment.
“J.D.?” she asked.
“Yes. He's sorry for what you heard,” he said.
“Grownups keep too many secrets,” she said after a moment. “They think we can't handle what's real. But guess what? We can't handle what's not.”
“I'll try to remember that,” he said as he angled through the Newport streets, down past the White Horse Tavern. They drove slowly along Farewell Street, between the two graveyards. His gaze flickered, and he turned the wheel hard to avoid hitting a girl running across the street. “Did you see that?” he asked Beck.
“I think so,” she said, peering through the snow into the Common Ground Cemetery. “Look, there she is!”
Stephen slowed the car. They pulled over to the curb, staring past the black iron gates. He felt a shiver go down his spine, gazing through the falling snow at the tall white marble mausoleum.
“Who is it?”
“I think it was just a gust of wind,” he said. “Blowing snow across the road…”
She kept staring through the iron fence, and so did he. The snow fell heavily, obscuring the Langley family crypt. Had that been Mary? Stephen's scalp tingled, the way it always did when he thought he'd seen her at Blackstone Hall. The spirits were out tonight.
“What are we doing here?” she asked after a moment.
“Waiting,” he said, checking his watch. J.D. had said they'd be there in forty minutes, and they were right on time.
“For what?” she asked.
He looked up, and saw Angus's van moving down the ramp of the Newport Bridge, merging onto Farewell Street, heading straight for them. Beck leaned forward, the palms of her hands on the dashboard, staring into the van windows, right into her sister's face.
&nb
sp; “Oh my God,” she said.
25TRAVIS NEEDED TO BE OUT SEARCHING IN THE storm. He had put on his warmest clothes, the boots his father had given him before they went ice fishing two winters ago, and looked everywhere he could think of. Beck had always loved secret hiding places. Back home in Ohio he'd known all her spots. But here, in Newport, he'd been so busy settling in, he realized he barely knew anything of how it had been for Beck.
He checked around Angus's guardhouse, the maintenance sheds, the athletic center. Snow and sleet blew into his eyes, making them water. He skirted the cliff, knowing she wouldn't go anywhere near it: she hated the water, that hadn't changed. The snow was piling up fast, covering everything in a thick white blanket.
“Beck!” he yelled, again and again.
No response, just the silence of the school. The lights burned brightly in the dorms; everyone was studying, getting ready for end of term. He had work of his own to do—History, English, Calculus— but none of that mattered unless he found Beck.
He made his way to the long-abandoned root cellar. He'd been there only once, early in October, with two guys he never hung out with—Loring Donay and Nick Williams, after a History test.
Most of his friends were athletes, and these guys weren't. They were both rich, from New York, kind of intellectual and artsy, in a different crowd than the football team. But Travis had gone along.
Despite all their success and outward friendliness, he hadn't really felt accepted by the guys, not the way he had been with his teammates in Columbus. Maybe the heroics were even part of it, although he always put the team first. Chris and Ty hung around together, included him as an afterthought. So when Loring invited him to hang out after the test, Travis had said sure, even though the blond hair and black turtleneck seemed a little lame, and heading down to a root cellar seemed completely stage-set.
They'd brought weed and beer, sat around talking in almost total darkness. According to them, fifty years ago, a select group of Newport Academy students had started a secret society called Quo Vadis, Latin for “Where are you going?” and held their meetings in the cellar. Travis had listened, trying to ignore the smell of mold and old carrots and potatoes.
He had gotten the strange sense Loring and Nick were feeling him out, to see how he felt about such things—as if maybe the secret society still existed and they were testing to see if he was the right material, if he'd want to join. There was no light down there—they'd used a lantern. It had thrown spooky light on the stone walls, and he'd seen a skull and candle on a table. It had seemed so dumb and childish to him. He'd finished his beer, thanked them, and left—feeling lonelier than before.
Standing there now, he cleared away the snow that had drifted against the battered wooden door. He pounded hard with his fists, calling his sister's name. The padlock was new, but the rusty iron fittings attached to the door were old; the screws that held them in place were loose. He knew he could break them in a second if he had to. But Beck wasn't here.
As he turned away from the old cellar door, he knew he was looking in the wrong place. His sister wasn't hiding. She was doing something. That was Beck all over—even when she seemed to be still, her mind was working.
She'd been thinking about Carrie—they all were. But Beck would have been calculating ways to rearrange the molecules so that Carrie would come home, or Beck would go to her. Sister magnets.
The paths hadn't been cleared yet, so he trudged through the snow, wondering where to go next. His legs were so tired, and his spirit felt weighted down. Walking in front of Blackstone Hall, he considered going inside to warm up for a minute, maybe check through the big building again, when he heard his name.
Turning, he saw Pell coming around the corner with Chris and Tyler.
“Hey,” Chris said as they walked over to him. “Where do we look?”
“Look?” Travis asked.
“For Beck,” Ty said. “We want to help you find her.”
“Where do we go next?” Chris asked.
“I've pretty much checked campus,” he said.
“And the wharf area is covered….” Ty said.
“What do you mean?” Travis asked.
Chris glanced over at him, eyes puzzled. “Didn't you know? Ty and I went down there as soon as we heard. Pretty much the whole football team has been searching for her.”
“We'll find her,” Ty said.
Travis couldn't speak. He met Pell's eyes as he felt the universe tilting. He was losing his family, one person at a time. His father, Carrie, now Beck. But Pell was here, and so were his friends.
“Come on,” Chris said, with a light pat on his shoulder. “Let's get out there.”
Pell didn't speak, but she touched Travis's arm.
And they started the search all over again, together.
Maura and Katharine sat together at the kitchen table. Katharine had brought food, but no one had felt like eating. Maura wanted to be in the car, out looking for Beck. But the roads were terrible, and J.D. had called, told her to stay close to home, that she needed to be there, but wouldn't tell her why.
“I can't stand this,” Maura said, jumping up yet again to look out the window over the sink. “Look at it out there … The storm's getting worse, and Beck's all alone in it. We have to go find her.”
“Travis is out searching the campus,” Katharine said. “Everyone is. And you know the police, Stephen, Angus, and—”
“It's not enough,” Maura said, going to the closet and pulling out her winter coat. She wriggled into it, pulled on her boots, and jammed a hat onto her head.
Katharine was right behind her. There was no way she would let her sister go out alone in the storm. They walked outside, making sure to leave the door unlocked in case Beck came home on her own. The school grounds were pure white. Heavy snow blew off the sea, covering the lawns and flowerbeds, coating the east side of every tree, branch, and building, drifting along the roads.
Maura had no idea where to look. She headed along the main drive, out toward the stone pillars and school entrance. Could Beck be holed up somewhere on campus? Would any of her friends help her hide, not grasping what it was doing to her mother, her family? She glanced over at Blackstone Hall. The fourth floor was dark.
“What have I done?” Maura asked. “I feel as if I've destroyed everything.”
“I know that's not true,” Katharine said, putting her arm around Maura as they trudged through the deep snow. Maura leaned into her sister, holding on to her support and warmth like lifelines.
In the distance, they saw headlights. A car and a van were coming along Cliff Avenue, moving slowly. The car fishtailed, then swerved.
Maura held her breath. For a minute she thought it was going to crash, and she thought suddenly of Mary Langley of how it must have been a storm like this that had sent her carriage over the cliff, into the sea. How could people be out on a night like this? Didn't they know the dangers? The suffering that an accident would bring to the people who loved them? If they had any idea of that, they would all go home to their families.
As Maura stared, the car went into a snowbank just before the school entrance, barely missing the granite pillars. She let out a long sigh of relief. The driver tried to get out of the drift, spinning the car's wheels.
“Should we help them?” Katharine asked.
Maura nodded, and they started toward the car. Just then the passenger door opened. Maura saw two people piling out; she wondered if they were students. Friends of Beck and Travis's, children in Maura's classes at school. Wordlessly she and Katharine made their way through the curtain of white to help. She thought of their mothers, wherever they might be.
“Mom!”
For a second she thought it was Beck, and her heart stopped.
“Sweetheart!” she called out. But she saw her daughter tearing toward her, holding a baby in her arms, calling “Mom, Mom,” over and over again—it was another familiar, beloved voice, and she hadn't heard it for over a year.
Maura cried out, started to run.
“Carrie!” Maura's arms were around her oldest daughter in a second. They held on to each other, rocking, sleet stinging their faces and mixing with their tears. They shielded the baby between them, Maura embracing them both.
“This is Gracie,” Carrie said.
“You have a daughter,” Maura said.
“Mom…” Carrie began. Maura heard apology, confusion, despair in Carrie's voice. They had so much to talk about and understand, but none of it mattered then—Carrie was home, and they were together.
“We have to get her, both of you, inside,” Maura said.
“Stephen's car…” Carrie began, and Maura turned to see.
Yes, it was Stephen's little red Panda, and Katharine had climbed behind the wheel as Stephen and someone else stood in front of the car, pushing it out of the snowbank. Maura would know the back of that head anywhere.
“Beck!” Maura called, feeling a surge of joy.
“Hang on, Mom,” Beck said, heaving her shoulder against the hood as Katharine eased the car backward, out of the drift. Arms around her oldest daughter and granddaughter, Maura helped them walk through the snow, back to the car.
Stephen flashed a grin, opening the car door to let them inside.
“I don't know how to thank you,” Maura said, catching his hand.
“I'd give anything to take credit,” he said.
“J.D. found me, Mom,” Carrie said. “He brought me home to you.”
Maura saw the van, idling behind the red car. She saw the window roll down, J.D. sitting inside. She stared at him.
“You did this,” she said.
“Carrie was on her way,” he said.
“But you…”
J.D. glanced behind her. Maura turned, saw Beck staring at him with stony eyes. Maura knew she felt he'd ruined her family even before she was born.
