It was not in my nature to connive, to rationalize and twist facts and events for my benefit and make others, especially my mother, feel guiltier. Despite our second-class citizenship at Wyndemere for so many years of my life, I had grown up with the love and affection of those who mattered to me the most. I bore the burdens that came with being a fatherless child, that “illegal” child Enid Austin had accused me of being as long ago as first grade.
Even during the years when the parents of other children in my class warned them not to associate with me, not to invite me to their parties, I somehow didn’t feel as meaningless and despicable as Bea Davenport and her snooty friends tried to make me feel. My mother, Mr. Stark, Mrs. Marlene, and many others who grew to love and respect my mother insulated me. I grew up strong. I had an ally in Ryder, too. As children, we did much together. It was inevitable that I would have a crush on him and then eagerly pursue something more with him.
Within this fragile world, I grew stronger and bolder, pushed back on prejudice until I was more and more accepted. But I was always aware of the possibility that this delicate bubble I lived within could break. When Bea was at Wyndemere, she never let me forget it.
And then, one day, it did come crashing down around me. The Revelations were that heavy. So here I was about to take advantage of it, yes, conniving, but in my mind justifiably so.
“I’m here because you lied to me, Mummy. I’m here because you let me grow up under a shadow, one of those heavy ones at Wyndemere. You and my father decided a long time ago that the truth was better kept trapped in one of the cobwebs. You’re responsible for bringing me here as much as Dillon Evans is, as much as I am myself, you and my father.”
My mother looked away. She nodded to herself and pressed her lips together before making a big sigh and turning back to me. “Why didn’t you come to me first and ask if you could come here?”
“Would it have really helped, Mummy? You accused me; you wouldn’t believe me. Everyone was against me seeing Ryder, unfairly against it.”
She looked down. I felt terrible making her feel terrible, but it seemed so right to do it.
We both looked up when my father entered the office. He closed the door softly behind him and leaned against it. There he stood, the mighty Dr. Davenport, around whom I had tiptoed most of my life, whose look could freeze me and whose occasional smile could fill me with the light of heaven. It wasn’t a terrible exaggeration to think that I had once worshipped him. He loomed that great in Wyndemere and in our lives.
But right now, the moment he said something in the way of condemnation or criticism, I was ready to fight back with more vehemence than he’d think I was capable of.
“I have to apologize to you, Fern,” he began, which took my mother by surprise as much as it took me. “Dr. Seymour and I have just spent fifteen minutes listening to Ryder confess about that picture and the dress, about a number of things, actually.”
“Oh, Harrison,” my mother said to him. “Ryder did those things?”
He nodded. “I once told Fern that when you make a big mistake in your life, it resembles throwing a rock in a pond and watching the ripples, each ripple becoming some other problem as a result. I think we threw quite a rock into that pond, Emma, years ago. It was mostly my fault,” he said.
“I’ll never let you believe that, Harrison,” my mother said.
This short exchange was the most intimate conversation I had ever witnessed between them.
“I’ve just spoken for a few moments to your young man’s mother,” my father said, turning back to me. He looked at his watch. “Your mother and I will return to the school with you. My office has contacted Dean McDermott, and he is setting aside time to see us. Dillon and his mother will follow us.”
“Why?” I asked.
“We all have some explaining to do. I’ll take the lead on that,” he said.
It occurred to me immediately that my father, the famous Dr. Davenport, had never acknowledged me as his daughter in public with me present. He had never gone to a parent-teacher conference at my school, and although he once came to see me in a play, he came under the guise of someone interested in the daughter of his head housekeeper. No one would have particularly congratulated him on my accomplishments, certainly not with the anticipated pride of a parent.
“Dr. Seymour will not pursue any legal action against you or Dillon Evans for breaking into the clinic,” he said. He almost smiled. “One benefit was that you identified a security weakness. Okay. I think it’s best we all leave for the school immediately.”
My mother stood. She reached for my hand, and I rose quickly. Still a bit stunned, I walked with her behind my father. Mrs. Evans was waiting in the parking lot. Dillon had gone around to the right and brought up his car.
“Can I go with him?” I asked.
“Yes,” my father said before my mother could respond. He walked with me to Dillon’s car and opened the door for me. “Drive carefully behind us,” he told him.
I got into Dillon’s car quickly.
“I don’t know what’s happening, exactly,” he said. “But I’m not asking any questions.”
“Neither am I,” I said.
We followed his mother and my parents out of the clinic parking lot and onto the highway.
“Feels like a funeral procession,” Dillon said.
“Hope not,” I replied.
We drove on. As we did, I described what Ryder had told me and how my parents had reacted to the realization that I wasn’t guilty of the things my father especially had accused me of doing.
School had just ended moments before we all drove into the parking lot. Dillon parked in his reserved spot. His mother and my parents went to guest spots. We sat in his car for a few moments, waiting for most of the student population to get on buses and into their cars.
“Ready to face the firing squad?” Dillon asked.
“As long as it’s with you beside me.”
He smiled, and when we got out of his car, he reached for my hand. Most of the students still leaving saw us and stared with curiosity. Some who were in our classes paused to watch us enter the building through the front and join our parents in the lobby. I tried not to look at anyone as we made our way to the dean’s office.
My father asked the secretary to request that he, my mother, and Dillon’s mother meet first with the dean. He nodded at some chairs, and we sat. Dean McDermott came to his inner office door. We saw that Principal Young was in his office as well. He closed the door when everyone but us entered.
“I wonder if capital punishment is still in effect here,” Dillon said, deliberately loudly enough for the dean’s secretary to hear. She glared at us and then returned to her paperwork. We sat back to wait. I suddenly realized we were still wearing the Sasco’s T-shirts.
“What’s so funny?” Dillon asked, smiling, astonished that I wasn’t sitting there crying.
I pointed to his T-shirt.
“Oh. I hope they don’t sue us for impersonating deliverymen.”
Nearly a half hour later, the door opened, and our school principal stepped out. He barely glanced at us before leaving for his own office. The door remained open. Dillon’s mother appeared next. She still looked quite dazed. For a moment, I thought she was going to leave without saying anything, but she paused and looked at Dillon.
“I’ll see you at home,” she said. “I’ve called your father and told him everything. He’s away on a job, as you know, but he’ll be calling you tonight.”
She continued out of the offices. I looked at Dillon.
“He’s always away,” he said. “Even when he’s home.”
We both looked up when my parents and the dean stepped into the doorway. The dean and my father shook hands, exchanging some words we couldn’t hear. My mother was looking down and then turned to look at me as they started out.
“You’ll go home on the late bus,” she said. “We’ll talk more after dinner.”
I watched her leave w
ith my father. The dean beckoned for us to enter his office.
“I’ll always remember you,” Dillon joked when we stood. The astonished look on the dean’s secretary’s face nearly made me laugh at what was clearly the wrong time.
We entered the office, and the dean closed the door behind us. He told us to sit in the two chairs in front of his desk, and then he went around and sat behind it.
“I asked the principal to be present for this meeting with your parents,” he began, “because I was aware that there were special extenuating circumstances. Extenuating, not justifying,” he quickly added. “Cutting classes and leaving the school grounds without permission are among the most serious violations of our code of conduct. We take on a legal responsibility for you when you enter this building. All sorts of things could have happened to you. I’m sure that by now, most of the student body knows what you did, too.
“However,” he continued, “thanks to Dr. Davenport, Principal Young and I are aware of the family crisis you’re suffering through, Fern. We’re not without compassion. As for you,” he said, looking at Dillon, “under any other circumstances, if you pulled this, I’d render the full extent of punishment. For now, I’m going to believe you were motivated by compassion, too.” He looked at me. “Or maybe other things. Whatever. The fact that neither of you has ever had a discipline problem during your school life does matter to me, but again, it doesn’t excuse what you’ve done. So . . .
“First,” he said, “you’ll both serve two days’ after-school detention. Dillon, you will lose your driving privileges to and from school for the remainder of your senior year. Fern, you will be denied driving privileges until your senior year, at which time the situation will be reconsidered.
“Second, you will both write out formal apologies to the teachers of the classes you missed. How each teacher handles that is at his or her discretion. They can assign zeros to your class averages, additional homework, whatever.”
He looked at his watch and then at Dillon.
“You are not, I repeat, not, to drive Fern home today. You do not have permission to take any student from this school or to this school in your vehicle. We require parental consent for that, and you’ve lost your driving privileges here anyway. Is that understood?”
“Yes, sir,” Dillon said.
“Don’t let me regret not suspending the two of you for a week outright as well,” Dean McDermott said. “Okay. You’d better leave to make the bus, Fern. Dillon, you remain here. I’m not quite finished with you.”
“Thank you, Dean McDermott,” I said, standing.
Dillon looked at me. “If I’m not back by sunrise, call the FBI,” he said.
I bit down on my lower lip, this time to stop a laugh, and hurried out of the office.
I had forgotten about Ivy. She was standing at the door to the parking lot.
I shook my head as I approached her. “I don’t want to talk about it now, Ivy,” I said.
Her face nearly overflowed with disappointment. “Will you call me later?” she practically begged.
“Yes. After I have a chance to catch my breath.”
When I got home, neither my mother, Mrs. Marlene, nor my father was there to greet me. I was anticipating another, more severe lecture. I went right up to my room. No one, not even Samantha, came up to see me. She was probably unaware of it all anyway. The silence was as painful as any verbal chastisement. I couldn’t stand it and decided to call Ivy and talk to someone after all.
Ivy was in the three classes I had cut when I went off with Dillon, so I wanted her to give me the homework anyway. I felt it might go a long way toward my redemption if I kept up with the work, surprising all my teachers, I’m sure. I still had to live here for a while until my new school was arranged.
When Ivy mentioned the play again, I finally told her my parents were seriously considering sending me to a private school.
“Oh. Really?”
“That’s why I did what I did today, sneaking into the clinic. I was afraid I wouldn’t see Ryder for a very long time.”
“But why did you have to cut class and sneak in?”
“I’m not on the approved list of visitors.”
“Why not?”
“It’s complicated, Ivy. Anyway, Dillon was a great help. Actually, he thought up the plan to get us inside.”
“Everyone thought you’d be suspended,” she said. “But the school has changed its policy a bit on that. Some kids were being suspended so much they missed too much work and were almost forced to fail.” She added, “Your friend and mine, Denise Potter, has come up with another theory she’s spreading.” She sounded reluctant. “Marcia Green told me a little while ago.”
“And what’s that?”
“Special favor to your father. He saved the principal’s older brother’s life with a bypass last year.”
“Did he? I didn’t know, but I don’t keep up with what he does, who his patients are, and whom he saves.”
“What do you think?”
I didn’t want to explain any more, to reveal that my father had told both the dean and the principal details of Ryder’s condition. I wasn’t sure myself how much or what he had told them. I was confident that whatever he told was enough to get them to do just what the dean said, consider extenuating circumstances. I certainly wasn’t going to ask my father.
“I don’t know, Ivy. Dillon’s pretty upset about losing his driving privileges for the rest of the year. I think he’d rather have been suspended.”
“And he’ll be even more upset when he learns you’re going to a private school.”
“He is. I told him.”
“Oh.”
“Tell me more about the audition. How did you do?”
“I don’t know. Mr. Madeo smiled when I went up to read and saw I had drawn a mustache on my face, just the way Dillon did it. And I did that little nasal thing you suggested.”
“He must have been impressed with that.”
“He told me to be sure to come back and read again.”
“That’s a good sign, Ivy. I’m so happy for you.”
She was quiet.
“I am. You’ll be sensational.”
“Maybe. The auditions run through Friday. He’s going to post the cast list on the bulletin board outside the principal’s office on Monday morning.”
“I’m hoping you’ll be on it.”
“Without you two, I won’t be happy about it,” she said.
“You’d better be. If you’re in it, I’ll try to get back to see it if I can.”
“Will you? I can’t believe you’re being sent away.”
“I’d better get to my homework. I have to write three apology letters, too. See you tomorrow,” I said.
“Okay.” There was that little lost girl’s voice again, drifting off. I almost felt sorrier for Ivy than I did for myself.
How easy the solutions for her unhappiness were, I thought. Someday she’d find another close friend, for sure. She was too sweet and intelligent not to make lots of new friends, especially in college.
If she only knew how hard the solutions for my happiness were, she’d surely be in tears.
I sat there spinning in a kaleidoscope of emotions. I was so happy with how my visit with Ryder had gone, but I was devastated by the chasm of disappointment and sadness that had fallen between me and my mother. I knew I would never have a better friend. The darkness was still here, still hanging triumphantly over all of us.
But that was soon to end. It was truly as if someone had opened a window.
Epilogue
EVEN SAMANTHA REALIZED that something very important was about to happen. Rarely was our father seated in the dining room before we had arrived. My mother was seated as well. The table was set, but there wasn’t any food on it yet. My father had opened a bottle of red wine and poured glasses for himself and my mother. Samantha looked at me for a hint about what was happening, but I was looking down in anticipation of a harsh lecture.
&n
bsp; “I’m hungry. What are we eating tonight? I hope it’s not that stew thing,” Samantha said.
“Sit and be quiet,” our father said sharply.
I looked up, poised. I would not cry.
“Ms. Corey and I have made some new decisions,” he began. “We have decided first that Fern will continue her education here. She’s been on the honor roll every semester. We’re both proud of her achievements.” He looked at Samantha directly. “You should strive to do as well, Samantha. More time on your work and less time wasted on nonsense.”
“What nonsense?” she asked.
I kept my eyes down. I was happy to hear this, but I was sure there was more coming. I could feel it.
“We are going to concentrate more on Ryder’s full recuperation. He has made significant progress, and we’re hoping he will continue his education.”
He sat back. His pause was so long that I had to look up. Then he reached for my mother’s hand and spoke looking only at her.
“For a long time now, Ms. Corey and I have shared the burdens of Wyndemere and its occupants, Ms. Corey bearing the bigger share. We have known each other for over twenty years now. I can’t imagine anyone more devoted to my children or to me right now. I know both of you and Ryder appreciate her more than you can say.”
My mother smiled.
He turned back to us. “Life is far from a straight journey. There are many turns, many you never anticipate, and if you are to survive and do well, you have to learn how to adjust. Who is it who’s always telling us that a branch that doesn’t bend breaks?” he asked, looking at my mother again and smiling.
“Mrs. Marlene,” she said.
“Ah, yes. Few wiser. So,” he continued, “we have an announcement to make first to you two. Ms. Corey and I are getting married. It will be a simple civil ceremony performed in this house by a friend of mine, Daniel Harris.”
“The governor?” I asked immediately.
Echoes in the Walls Page 24
