Take Another Look

by Rosalind Noonan

  Jane turned away from them and dialed Harper’s coach as she strode to the end of the bleachers, making her way over to the couple. Fortunately, Coach Hadley picked up on the second ring.

  “Hadley, this is Jane Ryan and I’m calling about Harper, who should be there with you, but obviously ditched her ride. I wish you had called me. There needs to be some—”

  “Jane? Hold on. Calm down.” Hadley’s voice was hard to make out amidst the background noise of a dozen girls. “Harper is here. I don’t know why you’d think she’s not. We’re having a team meeting in the hotel lobby, around the fireplace.”

  “She . . . she’s there?”

  “Sitting right across from me. Hold on, and I’ll put her on.”

  A moment later, Harper’s voice shined bright. “Hey, Mom. What’s up?”

  Oh. No.

  Harper had done the right thing. She wasn’t hopping down from the bleachers, leading Jesse away by the hand. Heading toward the empty team locker rooms.

  “Sorry, Hoppy, but I have to call you back.” Jane ended the call and picked up her pace, nearly jogging around the boundary of the court behind the basket so that she wouldn’t lose the couple completely.

  Jesse and Isabel. Isabel pretending to be Harper.

  The locker room was littered with equipment bags, towels, and clothes from the team. Jane paused a moment, listening to the moaning sound. The showers.

  She found them in a shower stall, still clothed, though the leather jacket lay in a heap on the floor and Isabel’s sweater was up over her bra so that Jesse’s hands had access to her breasts.

  “Stop.” Jane grunted, her voice failing her. “Stop it, now.” This time, it resounded through the hollow shower room. “Both of you.”

  Jesse held his hands up and backed away, stunned. “Ms. Ryan.” He let out a huff of air. “I’m so sorry.”

  “What the hell are you doing?”

  Isabel stared, wide-eyed, testing the waters. Perhaps she wasn’t sure how much Jane knew.

  “We’re really sorry, Ms. Ryan.” Jesse folded his arms, a skinny, frightened kid now. “I just . . . When Harper’s tournament got cancelled we thought . . .” He glanced at the sexed-up girl who had tried to seduce him and quickly turned back to Jane. “I want you to know, I respect your daughter.”

  “That’s not my daughter,” Jane hissed, though the falsity of the claim made her sway against a tiled post. “This is Isabel.”

  He winced as they both turned to her.

  The beautiful face of her daughter, with swollen lips and slightly smudged mascara, transformed from the lazy grin of Harper to the more pert expression of Isabel. “Oh, Mom! You spoiled the joke. Harper and I were playing a little trick on Jesse.”

  His face went sour as he raked back his hair. “A trick?”

  “We wanted to see if you would notice if we switched places. Harper said it would be a real test of whether you really loved her for who she is. The love test.” She straightened her sweater—Harper’s blue sweater, actually—and cocked her head to one side so that her hair fell over one eye. “I’m afraid you didn’t do so well. But we don’t have to tell Harper, right? I wouldn’t want to hurt her.”

  Fury roiled inside Jane at Isabel’s feigned innocence.

  “Crap,” Jesse breathed. “This is really twisted, man.”

  “That’s what I thought, at first,” Isabel said, “but Harper talked me into it. She said she doesn’t want anything short of genuine love. The real thing.” She turned to Jane. “Right, Mom?”

  Those were Harper’s words. Now Jane felt a new confusion spinning inside her at the hint that Harper might have masterminded this whole thing.

  “Ms. Ryan?” Jesse’s dark eyes burned with misery. “I’m like, freaked out and sort of mortified. I’m gonna go.”

  Watching him leave, Jane shared his confusion. “Why did you do this?” she begged Isabel.

  “Because I wanted Harper to like me again. You’ve seen how she’s been lately.” Isabel pressed a fist to her mouth, sniffing. “I’m sorry, Mom. It wasn’t such a good idea, was it?”

  Jane wondered when Isabel had started calling her “Mom,” and when had Isabel and Harper decided to switch places? “So this was planned. Have you ever pretended to be Harper before?”

  “No,” Isabel insisted. “Well, just that once, the day you came to pick her up at Emma’s house.”

  Not sure what to believe, Jane just stared as a tear rolled down Isabel’s cheek. She had always known Isabel to be forthright and truthful, but when she was dressed that way, Jane saw Harper’s face—the face of a liar. But at the same time, Jane was compelled to defend Hoppy, who was having her boyfriend stolen away by her own sister when her back was turned.

  Or was that the truth? Jane sensed that it would take some time to get to the bottom of this.

  “Come on. I’m taking you home.”

  Isabel had the good grace to remain quiet in the car. Inside the house, she asked if it would be all right to take a bath and go to bed.

  “That’s fine, but I trust you to be true to your word from now on.”

  “I will. I promise. And I’m sorry.” She climbed the stairs, eyes downcast, shoulders slumped. The remorse in her demeanor chipped away at Jane’s anger, but there was a lot to resolve here, and Jane didn’t want to handle Hoppy over the phone.

  This would have to wait until Sunday morning.

  Jane returned to the high school to finish chaperoning the game. Afterward, she would spill it all out for Luke, her sounding board. Thank God for Luke.

  Saturday morning passed slowly, reminding Jane of the old days when her life had been controlled by Frank’s whims and furies. She called Sally Pinero, hoping for news about Chrissy’s return to Seattle. Luke had pointed out that much of the stress would be eased if Isabel was removed from their home. Of course, Jane got the social worker’s machine. Sally didn’t work weekends.

  Hoppy’s team played so well that they had to stay in Bend for the final match, which they won. It was Sunday afternoon when Harper emerged from Keiko’s car, smiling and patting a medal on her chest.

  “First place, Mom!”

  “They played very well this weekend,” Keiko said.

  “That’s wonderful, honey.” Jane hugged Harper, emotion welling inside. Harper could be stubborn and boisterous, wild and petulant, but she lived in the moment. Sparkling and genuine. Jane hated to burst her bubble now. “Isabel’s inside studying. We need to talk, the three of us.”

  “Hold on.” Harper removed the ribbon from her neck and reached into the car to hand the medal to Emma. “They’re keeping it for me. I don’t want to take any chances.”

  “Good idea.” Jane thanked Keiko for chaperoning her daughter, then followed Harper into the house.

  For twenty minutes, Jane and Isabel listened to anecdotes of the tournament and about the close calls in the championship game. Then, as Harper wound down and searched the refrigerator for something to eat, Jane began to recount Friday night’s incident at the school.

  As Jane delved into the details, Harper lost interest in her apple. “Is this a joke? Because it’s not funny at all.”

  “It’s for real,” Jane said. “I saw the two kids making out, and I thought it was you and Jesse.”

  “Wait. Was it definitely Jesse? Are you sure?”

  Jane nodded.

  “So who was Jesse making out with?”

  “Isabel. Isabel was dressed in your clothes, pretending to be you.”

  Horrified, Harper let out a little whimper. “You?” She gaped at Isabel. “How could you do that? And to me, your sister!”

  “It was your idea. Remember, how you asked me to do the test? To see if Jesse really loved you.”

  “I never said that. That’s stupid!”

  Jane kept herself from intervening, wanting the girls to work this out between them.

  Isabel stared down at her pale hands. “I didn’t want to do it, but when you begged me, I couldn’t say no.�
� She lifted her chin, her gaze latching onto Harper. “I’d do anything for you. I wanted to prove that.”

  “What a load of crap! I never asked you to make out with my boyfriend, Isabel. What kind of weirdo do you think I am?”

  “I just wanted to make you happy. I thought . . .” Isabel’s voice cracked as the tears began to fall.

  “Now you’re crying? I’m the one who should be crying here. You just got with my boyfriend!”

  “I should have known. You said we were in this together, but it was a lie. You always twist things around, trying to get me in trouble. Why do you do that to me?” Isabel asked innocently.

  “I didn’t do shit to you.” Harper extended her arms out wide. “I wasn’t even here! You can’t blame this on me, right, Mom?”

  “Isabel needs to take responsibility for her actions with Jesse,” Jane said, choosing her words carefully. “But I’d like to know what prompted it. Are you saying that you didn’t plan this with Isabel?”

  “Well, duh. How stupid do you think I am? Stupid and creepy. Like I’m going to give my boyfriend away?” Harper stomped through the kitchen and tossed her apple into the sink. “This is so crazy. I can’t do this anymore.” Her cheeks were damp as she grabbed her coat and marched to the door.

  “Harper . . . please,” Jane called. “Let’s talk this out.”

  The door slammed in answer.

  Jane went outside to follow her, but when she reached the driveway, Harper was sprinting onto the street at the base of the cul-de-sac, a shadow in the January gloom.

  Over the next few hours, Jane left countless messages on Harper’s phone.

  No response.

  What would she do if she didn’t hear from Harper all night? Calling the police would only alienate Harper further. She began calling team parents. Her second call brought relief.

  “Harper is here,” Trish Schiavone said. “She said I could tell you as long as I didn’t force her to go back home. You won’t force her, will you? She’s pretty upset.”

  Jane let out the breath that had been trapped in her lungs. “She can stay there if it’s okay with you.”

  “Sure. When you’ve got ninety kids, what’s one more?”

  Jane arranged to drop by with Harper’s clothes and her school backpack.

  “That’s right. It’s finals week, but you’d never know from the fun and games around here,” Trish said. “That’s what happens when you raise athletes instead of scholars.”

  “They are what they are,” Jane said quietly.

  She packed Harper’s things and left them with Trish. When she arrived home, Isabel had made soup, salad, and homemade buttermilk biscuits, which Jane pronounced delicious.

  “Those are from the quick recipe,” Isabel said. “One of these days when I have more time, I’ll make the layered biscuits.”

  Jane nodded, exhausted. Her mind was a jumble of lies and accusations, expectations and disappointments. After dinner, she offered Isabel help with her studies, but the girl had it all under control, which was a relief to Jane. A hot shower was soothing. She took a book to bed and fell asleep before she finished the chapter.

  That night, when Hoppy appeared in her doorway, a wave of relief swept over Jane. “I can’t sleep,” the girl said.

  Jane pulled back the covers and put an arm around her daughter. “Everything’s going to be all right,” she said softly, calming her daughter. She was so glad to have her home.

  In the morning, Jane went into the girls’ room to wake Isabel and saw two empty beds.

  That was when it hit her: Hoppy had not come home last night. It was Isabel who had crawled into Jane’s bed.

  Somehow, that realization haunted her. Although she cared for Isabel, the realization scared Jane, and she didn’t know why.

  Chapter 27

  Monday morning, over oatmeal, Isabel talked about the upcoming Snow Prom in February. “Wouldn’t it be amazing if Harper got chosen as Snow Queen?”

  “Absolutely amazing,” Jane agreed, “especially since the princess court has already been announced.” Realizing that this was Isabel’s first year at Mirror Lake High, Jane explained how the court was nominated, and then a queen was chosen from the nominees.

  “But it could happen,” Isabel said. “There’s always write-in ballots.”

  Jane scraped the last of the oats from her bowl. “It’s not the sort of thing Harper and her friends get behind. Why are you so interested in Snow Queen?”

  “I told you. If I could get it for Harper, she wouldn’t be able to be mad at me anymore.”

  It’s so much more complicated than that, Jane thought. Avoiding the issue, she reached down to pet Phoenix. “It’s a nice thought,” Jane said, “just not very practical.”

  Isabel shrugged. “You never know.”

  Jane changed the subject. “Ready for your first finals?”

  Isabel gave a thumbs-up. “All set.”

  Jane appreciated Isabel’s optimism on this gray, rainy day. A mixture of rain and sleet tapping against the back windows had driven Phee under the table, where her tail now tickled Jane’s ankle as it swished. Harper’s empty chair gnawed at Jane. If Hoppy were here, she would take her breakfast bowl down to the floor so that she could “love me some dog” while she ate. Jane missed her girl.

  During her free period Jane called Sally Pinero and got her on the first try. “I need your help,” Jane told her. “This is not going to work with Isabel on a long-term basis.”

  “Right. I got your message this weekend. You know that kind of tension is normal. Petty jealousies and arguments among kids in the home. It happens all the time.”

  “It’s more than that.” Without explaining that her two daughters could not live in the same house, Jane gave the social worker an ultimatum. If there was no word from Chrissy Zaretsky in the next twenty-four hours, they would need to look into alternatives for Isabel’s care. Translation: She would need a foster home. “I need to know that Isabel’s mother is committed to reuniting with her,” Jane said.

  “A fair demand,” Sally admitted, “though tough on me. I share your frustration with Mrs. Zaretsky. She’s been difficult to contact. Let me see what I can do.”

  “Twenty-four hours,” Jane repeated.

  “Got it. I’ll call you back.”

  Within an hour, Jane had a message to call Sally back.

  “No Chrissy Zaretsky, but would you take the next best thing? Turns out her sister is in town to pick up some things from the house. She’ll be there most of the afternoon. If you can make it to the Zaretsky place on Arbor Lane by four, Anya Diamant will meet with you.”

  “Perfect,” Jane said. At last, she was getting somewhere.

  When Harper stopped into Jane’s classroom at lunchtime, Jane longed to fold her into her arms and reassure her. Instead, she smiled and asked: “How are your finals going?”

  “Okay. Environmental science was multiple choice, so that was good.”

  “I’m working on contacting Isabel’s mother. Isabel is not staying with us forever; I want you to know that.”

  “Okay. But I can’t stay if she’s there, Mom. I’m going to live at Sydney’s until Isabel is gone. Sydney already asked, and her mom says it’s okay.”

  It seemed like an overreaction—a bit dramatic—but then Jane had been guilty of her own drama in imagining that she and Harper could fold Isabel into their lives without consequence. Jane agreed that Harper’s plan was best for now. They made arrangements for Harper to come by the house after basketball practice to pick up the rest of her things. As Harper headed off to class, Jane tried to tamp down the feeling that she was losing her daughter. She tried to ignore the loss yawning deep inside her as she prepared the final for her next class. She tried, without success.

  When Jane pulled up to the house on Arbor Lane, it had all the makings of a crime scene. Squad cars. Yellow police tape stretched across the porch entry. Uniformed officers and plainclothes detectives chatting or searching the lawn and bushes.
Squawking radios and the rumble of cars slowing to take it all in.

  Detective Drum was one of the cops poking in the bamboo that screened the front of the house. Zipping her coat against the cold, Jane approached him cautiously. “I’m not sure if you remember me. Jane Ryan? My daughter Harper was interviewed over the school picnic.”

  He nodded, leaning on the rake in his hand. “What can I help you with, Ms. Ryan?”

  “What happened here? I was supposed to meet Anya Diamant. Is she okay?”

  “She’s inside.”

  “That’s a relief. It looks like you’ve turned this place into a crime scene.”

  “We’re treating it as a possible crime scene.” He bent over and poked at the garden bed with the rake.

  “What do you think happened here?”

  “I’m not at liberty to say, but it’s not something you should worry about.”

  It dawned on her that he didn’t understand her connection here. “I’m here about Isabel Zaretsky, Chrissy’s fifteen-year-old daughter? She’s living with me while her mother recuperates.”

  That got his attention. “The young lady is living with you?” He straightened and squinted at her. “So you’re involved here, whether you know it or not. I hope you’ve got a hard shell if you’re going to talk with Mrs. Diamant.”

  “What’s wrong with her?”

  “She’s no fan of Isabel Zaretsky. Did you know she’s asked the police to press charges against the girl?”

  “Against Isabel?” Jane was sure this was a misunderstanding. “For what?”

  “Homicide, and attempted homicide.” Drum shifted the rake and took an iPad from the inner pocket of his jacket. “She seems to think Isabel killed her father and was trying to kill the mother, Christine Zaretsky.”