“We did.”
“With your daughter, as well.”
Olivia swallowed. “Yes.”
The sergeant flipped through his notes. “Who was also injured. Somewhat seriously. A broken arm, I’ve been told?”
“Yes.” But there was more, Olivia wanted to scream. All the invisible injuries, the ones on the inside.
“We understand that your daughter may be suffering from PTSD, and we are very sorry to hear that. But we’d like to talk to her.”
“You can’t.” Olivia crossed her arms.
“I know how difficult this is…”
“No, Sergeant. You don’t.” Olivia glanced down the hall to Jake’s doorway. She recalled Perry’s condemnation of his brother: “Reckless.”
And Jane’s insistence that this was all a terrible mystery. A freak accident.
And also the pain in Jake’s eyes every time she walked into his room. From the moment he’d started to rouse in recovery, something about him had been different. From the way he wouldn’t quite look at her, to the tone in his voice; a wounded tone that she’d been sure would fade. But instead, it had grown into anger. She had anger of her own. At herself. At both of them, for ever thinking it was all right to let Luci out on the lake without her. There was enough anger for both of them. But standing there in the hospital corridor she realized for the first time they were not united in it. Her deepest loyalty lay to her daughter; Luci came first.
“Luci suffers from a condition called selective mutism. At times she cannot talk. Literally cannot talk.” Olivia waited for this news to sink in. “But she has always talked to me. And now she can’t do that either.” Without warning hot tears poured from her eyes. But she wasn’t done. “If my daughter is so traumatized that she can’t talk to me, her own mother, then she cannot talk to you.” She looked fiercely between both officers to make sure they understood. “I won’t let her suffer anymore.”
Cripky opened his mouth to speak and Olivia felt herself coil, at the ready, but thankfully the sergeant held up his hand. “I understand, Miss Cossette. We don’t want to upset your child any-more. If we need anything further, we’ll be in touch.”
Olivia waited until she could hear the distant echo of their footsteps moving down the hall. Then she returned to Jake’s room, and pulled the door closed hard behind her. Jake was staring out the window. He did not turn to look at her.
Olivia cleared her throat. She was a mother, first. “What is it you’re not telling me?”
Emma
That saying about kids being brutally honest? Yep. Brutally true. But she would rather endure the guileless gasps and pointed fingers of her campers than the covert glances and whispers from some of the counselors any day. She hadn’t been back at camp for more than two minutes, and already her first-grade campers had circled her in one scrutinizing little band.
“Where were you?”
“What happened to your face?”
“That looks like it hurts. Bad.”
The morning was bright, and Emma instinctively shielded her eyes. Much of her swelling had gone down, but the bruising had not. The initial purplish blue that had radiated across her cheek had morphed to a greenish-yellow cast that no amount of concealer she’d tried in the mirror could cover. In the end, she’d pulled a baseball cap on and tugged the brim down low over her forehead. As she walked down the street to the clubhouse, she steeled herself against the onslaught of questions she knew would be waiting for her. Candlewood Cove was a small lakeside community within Lenox, and word of the boating accident had already traveled up and down the lake. She’d have to face the music sometime. And seated here, in front of twelve inquiring sets of eyes and gaping mouths, she realized that time was now.
Six-year-old Maisy Barton had curlicue chestnut pigtails that stuck out due east and west. Now they swung back and forth as she shook her head in awe. “Oh, Miss Emma. You look terr-i-ble!”
Emma managed a smile. “Yeah, I know. But it’ll get better soon.”
“I hope so,” another little girl said. “Does it hurt?”
Emma shook her head, even though it still did, a little. “It looks worse than it feels. I’ll be okay.”
“Were you in a fight?” Taylor Gould asked.
Before Emma could answer, someone else did. “If you think she looks bad, you should see the other guy.”
All the campers turned, as did Emma. Sully McMahon sliced through their tiny circle and slid onto the picnic table seat across from her. He propped his chin on his hands and smiled. “I hope you won.”
Emma couldn’t help but laugh.
“I knew it!” Taylor shouted. “Miss Emma was in a fight.” Which set off a buzz through the circle, until the morning meeting bell clanged from up the hill and the campers dispersed.
“How are you, really?” Sully asked when they were alone.
Emma touched her cheek again. “We should probably get up to morning circle before our boss loses it.”
Sully remained seated. “I texted you.” His blue eyes were so intent. She stood up.
“I know. Thanks for checking in. My mom took my phone away.” She pointed to her head. “It’s a concussion thing. No bright lights or screens.”
Sully hopped up and came around the table, matching her stride as she climbed the hill to the clubhouse. “So?”
Emma glanced sideways. “So what?”
“What happened out there?”
She paused. “What did you hear?”
This made Sully shake his head. “Do you ever answer a question directly?” They were almost at the morning meeting spot, and she really wished he’d drop it. She didn’t want to discuss this, period, let alone in front of everyone else.
“All I heard was your boat ran aground. You were with your grandfather?”
“My uncle. And his fiancée’s daughter.” Emma’s throat got tight at the thought of Luci and her little pink cast. “And the boat didn’t run aground, it hit a dock,” she corrected him.
“Okay. The uncle. And the dock. Got it.” Sully held up his hands defensively.
Emma halted. It had come out more strongly than she’d meant it to. But she really didn’t want to get into the accident. It was bad enough that Sully had already studied every bruise and bump on her face close-up. Maybe her father was right. She should’ve stayed home.
“Look, I’m sorry. It’s just kind of fresh, is all.”
Sully’s expression softened. “I don’t mean to pry. I’m just glad you’re okay.”
The bell clanged again. The morning meeting was getting started. The camp director was doing his usual last call of the roster, looking for stragglers. “McMahon, get up here!”
“Catch you later,” Sully said. He trotted ahead to the circle.
Emma took her time joining them. She could feel Amanda Hastings’s eyes on her as she approached the campfire circle, taking her place beside Alicia, whom she figured was about the only person she could take shelter with. But she was wrong.
“Oh my God,” Alicia whispered. Her eyes widened as they traveled across her face. “You look like hell.”
“Jesus. Thanks.” Emma turned away. This was why she sometimes couldn’t stand Alicia.
Alicia grabbed her hand. “I didn’t mean it like that. It just looks like it hurts. A lot.”
“Yeah, well it does.”
“Sorry I was late today. I overslept. But my dad had a meeting in the city yesterday, and he brought home Zabar’s bagels.” She handed Emma a wrapped wax-paper packet. She’d even taped it neatly. “I know how you feel about bagels.” And this was why she loved Alicia.
Emma accepted the bagel, but she was still annoyed.
Alicia wiggled her eyebrows. “Extra cream cheese…”
“I’m not really hungry,” Emma said.
“Liar. Just shut up and eat it.”
Being on restricted activity was deathly boring. The doctors said Emma could return to camp as long as she didn’t do anything physical. No swimming.
No running. No contact sports. Which basically meant Emma was constrained to the craft table and the narrow spit of beach sand, watching as the other counselors and CITs took the kids out in kayaks, played games, and swam. But even that beat staying at home with her parents. Ever since the accident they’d done nothing but hover. Outside her door. Over her shoulder. Did she want tea? Was she hungry? Did she need a Tylenol? She wouldn’t have been surprised if her parents were lurking outside the bathroom door as they did when she was potty training: “Do you need help in there??”
Her mom was what she thought of as a typical parent worrier. Like when she went to the mall with Alicia. “Stay together! Don’t talk to strangers.” Her father, however, was another story. “Don’t forget to triple-check the ties on the boat. Make sure they’re secure. Put the cover on tight. Did you check the cover? Check it again.” He was fastidious. Everything in life had to be done in a certain way, in a certain order. And since coming home from the hospital, he’d turned it on her.
“Is that wise?” he’d asked her mother that morning at breakfast, when he learned that she was heading back to camp. “She hasn’t had her concussion release test done yet. The doctor was very specific about that.”
Thankfully her mother was ahead of him. “Which is why she isn’t doing anything physical. She needs to get out of the house. Get some sun, see her friends. Let her go, Perry.”
Her father looked aghast. “But this isn’t protocol.”
Her mother handed her a bagged lunch. “Here, honey, make sure you eat.” Then to her father, “It’s just up the street. She’ll be fine.” And so far, she’d been fine. Mostly. Until lunchtime.
For lunch hour the campers were free to sit with friends from any of the groups, in a variety of spots. Some chose the shade beneath the giant weeping willow on the hill. Others liked the picnic tables on the beach. Emma and Alicia always sat together, sometimes with Brad, beside the kayak stand. It was partly shaded and near the water. And far enough away from others to speak freely.
“So what happened out there?” Alicia asked. Emma had to give her credit that she’d waited until lunch to ask. Alicia was anything but patient.
“My grandparents had an engagement party for my uncle Jake and Olivia. We took the boat out for a spin.”
“Your dad’s beloved boat?”
Emma nodded.
Alicia snorted. “I can’t believe he let anyone drive it but himself.”
Brad was listening quietly. “Was your uncle the one driving?”
Emma stared at her sandwich. “Yeah. Why?”
Before Brad could answer, Alicia interrupted, “Was he drunk?”
Emma spun around to face her. Alicia had known her family for years. Had always thought her uncle Jake was cute and fun—for a while Emma suspected she had a crush on him. Most girls did. It was no secret Jake liked to have a good time at family parties and holidays. Sometimes, too much of one. But it pissed her off to hear Alicia say it out loud. And with her mouth full like that. She glared at her. “Jesus, Alicia.”
Alicia wiped her mouth. “Sorry. I was just wondering.”
“Well, stop,” Emma snapped. “It doesn’t change anything now, does it?”
Brad looked uncomfortably between the two of them. “She didn’t mean it like that, Em.”
“I didn’t,” Alicia insisted. “I said sorry.”
They ate for a while in silence, and Emma fought the memories coming back to her. Even here at camp, they flashed in her mind like snapshots: Sitting on the bench seat with Luci in her lap. Jake at the wheel, reaching behind his seat for the cooler. Emma helping him with the lid, passing him a beer. The look on his face when she reached for another. Twisted off the lid.
She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to shake the memory away.
“So, does it hurt?”
“What?” Emma opened her eyes to find herself staring up at Amanda. Her gaze was cool, not exactly concerned.
“Of course it hurts,” Alicia told her.
Amanda ignored this.
“Not so much anymore,” Emma said. She glanced past Amanda to her usual table. Sully, Christie, and a few others were talking and eating.
“I heard your dad’s boat was totaled. Bummer.”
Emma swallowed. Her father hadn’t said anything about the boat to her, and she’d been wondering when he would. He loved that boat.
“Yeah, it was a bummer.” She looked at Amanda. What did she want?
“So, my dad and mom are away. I’m having people over Saturday night.” She looked at Alicia. “Is your brother home for the summer?”
Alicia nodded warily.
“Cool. You should bring him.”
“My brother?”
Amanda regarded her. “If he’s around, you three should come by.” It was clear to Emma then. Amanda didn’t care about the boat accident. Or inviting them to a party. Emma was Amanda’s connection to Alicia’s brother, Chet. This was about Chet.
Alicia perked up. She either wasn’t getting it, or didn’t care. “This Saturday? Yeah, I think I’m free.”
Brad, who’d remained silent until now, leaned forward. “What time is the party?”
Amanda flicked her gaze in his direction. “Who are you?” Before he could answer, she returned her attention to Emma and Alicia. “If Chet is around, feel free to stop by.” The message was clear. They were invited—if they brought Chet. Amanda didn’t wait for a reply. She was already heading back to her table.
“Cool! See you Saturday,” Alicia shouted after her.
Emma elbowed her gently. “Chill.”
Next to her, Brad stared at his lunch. “You’re not missing anything,” Emma told him. “I’ve heard her parties are lame, and it’ll probably get broken up by the cops anyway.”
But Alicia was too overcome to notice. “Oh my God. We’re invited to Amanda Hastings’s keg party! I have to come up with an excuse for my parents. What are you going to wear?”
Emma set her lunch down. She wasn’t hungry anymore. Amanda probably wanted to date Alicia’s brother Chet. She probably wanted to make her boyfriend, Steve, jealous. Emma would have to warn Alicia about all of this before they decided whether or not to go. Did she even want to go?
From Amanda’s table across the sand, Sully looked up. Before she lost her nerve, Emma waved. Sully waved back.
She really hoped Chet was free on Saturday night.
Perry
The Metro-North commute back to Connecticut was a sweatbox. Midway between Chappaqua and Mount Kisco the air-conditioning went out. By the time the train pulled in to Southeast Station, Perry’s dress shirt was stuck to his back. The car smelled of overheated vinyl and body odor. It was nauseating.
Thank God it was Friday. Emma would have finished her first couple of days back at camp. The family could slow down and relax for the weekend. But not on the lake. Despite the perfect forecast, Perry had no intention of going anywhere near the lake.
The insurance company had come out to assess the damages. Just as he’d known it would be, the boat was declared totaled. But still, it smarted when he had to sign insurance forms. In addition to the boat damage, there was the matter of the repair work to be done to the Dunlaps’ dock, where the accident had occurred. Perry had accompanied the adjuster to the site, and again, Mr. Dunlap kindly made no fuss. But he had requested his own assessment, as well. The two quotes would be compared. Negotiations would be made. Perry did not take any of it personally. This was the business of insurance. Still, having the insurance company’s official paperwork completed somehow made all of it feel worse. Perry knew he should feel grateful. Boats and docks could be replaced. People could not. But Perry couldn’t help himself; with Jake at the helm of this accident, Perry found he was unable to shake a growing ire within him. His only recourse for now was avoidance. Avoidance of the water and of his brother.
But there were others to consider. Emma first, of course. And Olivia and Luci. Perry worried about Olivia being on her own. He had no idea
what kind of insurance she had, though, frankly he’d been surprised she had any. Usually those artistic types just didn’t. And he still didn’t know if she was a US citizen or on some kind of visa, an assumption that only further undermined any confidence he had in her holding good health insurance.
But Perry knew this was not a matter of insurance. He also felt a responsibility for Jake. People had been hurt and property was damaged. And though Perry felt badly for his little brother on some level, he couldn’t help but feel that Jake was burdening Olivia further with his own injuries and needs. After all the harm he’d caused, poor Olivia was the one who’d end up taking care of him.
He tried to think of alternatives. Perry didn’t exactly want his parents stepping in to rescue his little brother; something they were not only known to do but also famous for. They had Grandma Elsie to take care of, and now Phoebe and her family on top of it. Which only left Olivia and him.
But before he could consider what to do about Olivia and Jake, first there was Emma.
Something wasn’t right. It went beyond the obvious fact that she was still in recovery. It also went beyond the explanation Amelia kept circling back to: “She’s a teenager, honey. They’re surly. They’re aloof. She’s just doing her job.” Boy, was she! But all that was too convenient a package to wrap this in. Perry’s gut told him there was something else. Something that kept his daughter distant, if polite. Troubled, despite appearing put together on the surface. Emma was simply not herself.
As he walked across the commuter lot to his car, he dialed Amelia. “Do you think she needs therapy?” he asked the moment she picked up.
“Who?” There seemed to be music playing in the background.
“Emma,” he said impatiently.
There was a pause. “Did you have a bad day at work?”
Perry was used to this. Amelia answered questions with questions. But given his commute and the heat, and yes, a not-so-great day at work, he was less patient than usual. “Something is off about Emma, and I don’t think we should ignore it. I’m wondering if she might have PTSD.” Perry knew plenty about PTSD. A growing claim in insurance suits. Difficult to prove. Difficult to valuate. Which often worked to the insurance company’s advantage. Now, on the victim’s side, Perry suddenly felt differently.
The View from Here Page 21
