Impossible

by Nancy Werlin

  Lucy snorted. "I like Gray, but hello? Were you listening to me at all? About pain?"

  "If you're expecting a walk in the park—"

  They were interrupted by the coach calling the track team around and assigning them their workouts. "Call me later," Sarah said. Lucy nodded, and Sarah went off on her run. Lucy and the other two hurdlers began doing drills with tightly spaced hurdles, practicing alternating their lead legs.

  Lucy worked out hard. She always did: it was her strongest point as an athlete. She was good, but she didn't have any truly extraordinary level of talent, and she knew it. What she did have was will and determination. And next year, if she kept it up and was lucky, she thought she might have a shot at going to states and maybe also at some college scholarship money, which would be a big help to her foster parents. That was her real goal. Even though her parents had told her not to worry about college costs, that they would figure it out, she wanted to help all she could. Wonderful as they were, and loved as Lucy had always felt, she never lost a certain consciousness that she was indebted to them. She tried her best to be perfect for Soledad and Leo Markowitz.

  Here it was really no problem, though. She loved hurdling. When it went well, when she got her striding length and her pace and her hurdles just right, there was nothing like it. Nothing like how competent and powerful and whole it made her feel.

  Lucy didn't know exactly what made her lose her focus during that practice. A prickly feeling on the back of her neck? The creeping conviction that she was being watched?

  But suddenly she lost her rhythm and messed up her hurdle. She landed hard on the track on one knee, with the hurdle coming down beside her. And she looked up to see her mother. Not her foster mother, Soledad, but her real mother. Miranda.

  It was unmistakably her.

  Miranda had materialized on the other side of the track, right near the bleachers. She was wearing a thin purple gauze skirt and a red T-shirt that was far too big for her. She was pushing a supermarket shopping cart that was laden with returnable plastic and glass bottles and other trash.

  "Lucy, you okay?" It was Sindy Gillespie, the best hurdler on the team, helping Lucy up.

  "Sure." Lucy got up slowly, trying to figure out what to do. What was right? Should she interrupt practice and go try to talk to Miranda? Or would that be the same exercise in futility it had always been?

  Miranda had never come to Lucy's school before. Always, in the past, on those rare occasions she showed up, she had come to Soledad and Leo's house, and caused the entire family endless grief and anguish

  Sindy Gillespie was following Lucy's gaze. Miranda had stopped walking now and was staring right at Lucy with her big, brown—and quite insane—eyes.

  "Have you seen that crazy bag lady before?" Sindy asked Lucy. "I have. I saw her yesterday just outside the cafeteria. She was going through the trash and eating stuff. And she was singing! Poor thing, but still, ick."

  "No." Lucy lied. "I've never seen her before." She immediately felt guilty. And she felt a little stir of curiosity too. "What was she singing, Sindv?"

  "I don't know."

  "Oh." Lucy bit her lip, containing her impulse to sing a few bars of a particular song and ask if that was it. But she knew it was. Miranda had been singing one song, a version of an old folk ballad, every time she showed up in Lucy's life. Lucy was sick of it.

  But the ballad still haunted her. Twined itself unexpectedly in her mind and inner ear, which was where it was now.

  Are you going to Scarborough Fair?

  Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme

  Remember me to one who lives there

  She must be a true love of mine.

  As Lucy and Sindy watched, Miranda parked her cart and sat down on the bottom bleacher. She pulled her legs up before her, under her skirt, and sat with her thin, muscular arms tightly corded around them. Her lips moved, though no sound came out.

  "She's looking right at us!" said Sindy. "And I think she's singing again too."

  "I know," said Lucy tersely. "Let's ignore her."

  "Yeah. We need to get back to it anyway. Are you going to do another one?"

  "Okay," said Lucy.

  What would Sindy think, Lucy thought, if she excused herself and went over? Or what if she said: "I do know her. That's my mother."

  But she didn't. Instead, she continued to practice, if badly. It wasn't just Miranda's gaze. The rhythm of the song in her inner ear also interfered with the rhythm of Lucy's strides, and she couldn't get it right.

  When practice ended and she finally looked again, Miranda was gone.

  CHAPTER 2

  The first indication Zach Greenfield had that his friend and next-door neighbor Lucy was kind-of-maybe-sort-of dating a boy came during a phone call he made to Lucy's foster mother. Soledad Markowitz. It was the end of spring finals week in his freshman year at Williams College, and Zach's mind was turning toward his summer plans, in which Lucy's family figured prominently.

  "Oh, and it turns out Lucy's going to junior prom with a boy," Soledad said.

  "Yeah?" Zach found himself leaning forward, diverted from the original purpose of his call. He could spare some time for phone gossip, especially if it was about Lucy "Who's she going with? Another junior? Or a senior?" Since Lucy was only two and a half years younger than Zach, and he'd gone to the same high school, he still knew a lot of the kids there.

  "We haven't met him." Soledad Markowitz said. "His name is Gray Spencer."

  "Spencer. Huh. Spence—oh. wait. Band geek? Plays drums? Kind of a skinny guy, glasses? Quiet?"

  "Well. I don't know!" Now Zach picked up on a slight note of annoyance in Soledad's voice. "Lucy hasn't brought him home. And I don't know if she will! Really, she's too young to date. Don't you agree?"

  Zach suppressed a grin. This was Soledad for you. "Uh, do you remember back when I was seeing my first girlfriend, in ninth grade? I was fourteen."

  Soledad sighed. "Right, but—"

  "Lucy's seventeen," said Zach.

  "I know."

  "So, are you maybe being a little sexist here? What's okay for a boy isn't okay for a girl?" There was a long silence from the other end of the phone. Zach knew he'd scored. "Besides, if this Gray Spencer is who I think he is, you don't have to worry. Nice guy, a little shy. Also, if this is the first you've heard of him. I'd guess this is just a prom thing. Luce will get all dressed up and go, and have a good time, and he'll give her a hug afterward. In fact, I bet they're going with a group of friends. Not really a date-date, just a prom group. Lots of kids do that."

  Zach found that he liked this theory himself. A prom group. Yes. Perfect for his old pal Lucy.

  More silence. Then Soledad said, "I hope you're right, Zach. Actually. I know you're right, and I'll try to stop fretting. I won't get in Lucy's way. It's just that I worry. You know."

  Zach knew. It wasn't about Lucy, not really. It was about Miranda, Lucy's birth mother. And about Soledad's past with Miranda.

  Miranda the ghost, who was actually very much alive. Alive, but haunted, and haunting, and beyond anyone's reach. Beyond anyone's ability to help. Even Soledad, who loved her like a sister.

  Zach found himself thinking, suddenly, about Lucy and her foster parents. All at once, he caught a glimpse of something he hadn't realized even last year, when he was living with the Markowitzes while finishing high school. And what he saw was that Soledad's continuing sorrow and anxiety over Miranda was seriously unfair to Lucy. Also, he knew: If Soledad Markowitz wasn't careful, her fears were only going to get worse, now that Lucy was showing a more-than-theoretical interest in boys. And they, apparently, in her.

  Even sweet, geeky boys like Gray Spencer would loom like tenors to Soledad Markowitz, a lioness in defense of her girl-cub.

  Lucy needed Zach to help her. Even if she'd never admit it.

  He tried to think of what he might say. He couldn't exactly blurt it all out Soledad. You have got to get a grip. Lucy is not her mother. She is not
a teenager alone and scavenging on the streets of Boston. She's not going to have a baby at eighteen and lose her mind with grief and fear like Miranda did. Not Lucy. Lucy has a family and a home and a place in the world. She's smart and she's beautiful, and frankly, she's as grounded as a piece of granite. She has everything going for her, and you ought to know it, because it was you and Leo who made sure she did. You made sure she grew up safe and secure in your home.

  Lucy is nothing like her mother.

  But Zach didn't say any of this.

  In the summer, maybe, he'd try to find the right words. Or maybe he could talk to Leo about it, since it turned out he was going to be back in Waltham and living with the Markowitzes after all, and not in Europe.

  But what he said now was, "It's just prom. Oh, and Soledad? There was another reason I called."

  "Yes?"

  "Is Leo there too? I have something to ask both of you. It's about this summer."

  CHAPTER 3

  Lucy trudged home after practice. As she walked, she wondered if Miranda had left school only to head to Leo and Soledad's and unsettle them too.

  This made Lucy look around carefully as she got home. But the neighborhood seemed serene, and the only person around was Mrs. Angelakis across the street, who was taking in her mail. She waved at Lucy, and Lucy waved back. Feeling like she was crossing a finish line, Lucy sprinted up the back steps to her big untidy house. As she got to the top step and reached for the door, she heard Pierre start to bark. That was her reward. Involuntarily, she smiled. She opened the door and her big black poodle all but leaped into her arms in his absolutely normal tremendous fit of excitement at her return.

  If Miranda was coming here, she hadn't yet.

  "Hello!" Lucy called out to Soledad and Leo as she stooped to hug and laugh at Pierre.

  "Hello!" Leo called back from the family room. "We're in the family-room discussing dinner. Need your opinion."

  "Okay, just a second." Lucy kicked off her shoes, dumped her book bag under the kitchen table, and then spent a few minutes petting and crooning to Pierre, and promising him his dinner soon. She opened the refrigerator and popped open a can of her favorite raspberry-lime seltzer.

  With the poodle at her sock-clad heels, she finally headed on into the family room and found Leo sitting on the arm of the sofa, next to Soledad, who was crocheting. The oversized shawl she was working on. in a mix of deep blue and turquoise and white silk ribbon yarn, was nearly done, and it flowed over her knees in lacy folds, draping almost to the floor.

  "First the news," Leo said to Lucy. "Zach has decided not to go backpacking through Europe with his buddies this summer. Instead"—he rapped a little drum-roll on his own knee—"he's coming back here. He has a summer job. In fact, he'll be here this weekend."

  Lucy stared. "That really is great! Wow." She was a little astonished at the gladness that poured through her. Zach! For a second, she wished he were here right now. She'd have taken him aside and told him about Miranda showing up today. She'd have asked him if she should tell her parents now, or just wait to see what happened. Even if she didn't agree with him, it was always good to talk with Zach. Always good to run things by him. She'd missed him this year. He was practically like a brother. Or no, a cousin. Or—or something.

  Zach knew all about Miranda. All the humiliating, weird stuff Lucy hadn't dared tell even to Sarah. Of course he did. He was not only Lucy's oldest friend, but he'd lived right here in this house all last year.

  He'd understand because he too had seen how it had nearly destroyed them, the last time Miranda had shown up. Three weeks of hell, it had been, and Soledad hadn't relaxed for months afterward.

  And so, suddenly, out of nowhere, Lucy decided. She would keep the secret of Miranda's reappearance until Zach was home. She would tell him. Ask his opinion. He wouldn't freak out like Soledad or, more quietly. Leo. Zach knew the situation; he knew her foster parents; she could trust him.

  Maybe she would even call him tonight.

  Except this was a discussion she wanted to have in person. She wanted to look into Zach's face while they talked. She wanted to be able to read his expression and his body language, and to judge for herself those things he might not say out loud.

  "It is terrific, huh?" Soledad was saying. "Although I know Nate and Carrie will be sad Zach's not willing to go spend the summer with them in Phoenix."

  "Zach doesn't feel any ties to Phoenix," said Leo, reasonably, to his wife. "They knew that was probably going to happen when they decided to move. They must have come to terms with it, or why did they agree when he asked to live with us last year and finish high school here? And you know they'd rather he was with us than wandering around Europe with a bunch of other kids."

  "Cheaper too," Soledad said, and laughed.

  "Yeah." Leo kissed his wife's nose and looked at Lucy. "Lucy? I was thinking, with both you and Zach here this summer, maybe we should plan a vacation. Soledad, what do you think? If we ask now, we can probably get the same days off." Leo and Soledad both worked at Brigham and Women's Hospital in Boston, and had done so for more than twenty years, Soledad as a nurse-midwife and Leo as a part-time aide, to support his real career as a musician. It was where they had met.

  "Great idea," said Soledad.

  "Lucy?"

  "Sure." Lucy pushed one of the floor cushions closer and eased herself down onto it. Pierre crowded in right beside her. "Did you guys say something about dinner, though?"

  "It's not my turn," said Soledad.

  Leo waved a hand vaguely in the direction of the kitchen. "I guess it's mine. But I was working on the chording for a song and I forgot. Well, so what do you vote? There's leftover chili. Or we could call for Chinese. Or just eat ice cream. We have some kind of green ice cream for you. Lucy."

  "Pistachio or mint chocolate chip?"

  "Pistachio, I think."

  Soledad leaned a little closer to Lucy. "How are you, sweetie? How was your day?"

  "Oh, fine," Lucy hunched a shoulder. Then she looked up, grinning ruefully. "I didn't have such a great practice, that's all. If the school has to buy new hurdles, it'll be because I destroyed them."

  "That bad, huh?" asked Leo.

  "That bad," said Lucy. She bent again to play with Pierre's cars, and if she broke eye contact with her father a little more quickly than usual, the evasion was too subtle for Leo to notice.

  Beneath the shame she felt about Miranda, there was so much more going on for Lucy. All the questions, for one thing. The terrible ones that neither she nor her foster parents asked out loud anymore, and that she wished she could push out of her mind. Where did Miranda go? How did she live? Was she hungry? Cold? Of course she must be, sometimes. Did she sleep on the street? In a shelter? Wasn't she unsafe, even day? Why were they all so helpless to help her?

  It was terrible. It felt unendurable.

  But they were all helpless and they had to endure.

  Lucy was so tired of it, though. Tired of how Miranda kept popping up. Sometimes she just wanted a normal life. Was that so wrong?

  She said abruptly, "Dad? Are you home tonight, or out on a gig?"

  "Home. Why?"

  "I was wondering if we could sing. Just for a while."

  Leo smiled. "What're you in the mood for?"

  "Some folk stuff," said Lucy promptly. She hesitated. "I've been thinking about 'Scarborough Fair' all day. You know, hearing it in my head. I don't know why, but I have." She ducked her head at the lie.

  Predictably, Leo had already reached for his guitar and sat down in a chair with it. "Do you want Miranda's version? Or Simon and Garfunkel? Or one of the other versions? Hey, we could do a whole bunch of them." For Leo, the song had never seemed to be as loaded with meaning and weight as it felt for Lucy. Neither he nor Soledad knew that it was pure torture for Lucy to hear the song, to sing the song—but torture that sometimes Lucy sought out, as now.

  "Miranda's," said Lucy.

  Leo nodded. He strummed the first chords, an
d then sang, in his light, pleasant tenor.

  "Are you going to Scarborough Fair?

  Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme

  Remember me to one who lives there

  She must be a true love of mine. "

  Lucy joined in on the next verse, taking over the melody in her sweet soprano, while Leo switched to harmony.

  "Tell her she'll sleep in a goose-feather bed

  Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme

  Tell her I swear she'll have nothing to dread

  She must be a true love of mine. "

  They sang all the verses. Soledad added her gorgeous alto on the third verse, joining Lucy on the melody.

  "Tell her tomorrow her answer make known

  Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme

  What e 'er she may say I'll not leave her alone

  She must be a true love of mine. "

  As they continued singing, the music filled Lucy with the usual sweep of torment and bewilderment. Still, singing it with her foster parents satisfied some need in her as well, and made her feel better.

  In a way, the song had been the one gift Miranda left behind for her daughter, from before she went mad, and it had been left indirectly, via Leo.

  The story was that Miranda, eight months pregnant with Lucy, had one day heard Leo singing the Simon and Garfunkel version of the ballad. She'd then sung a different one to Leo. one that fascinated him because he had never heard it before and could not find it in any book or online. Miranda had taught it to him, saying that it was a family version, from her mother—and then she had added that she would want her daughter to know it one day as well. This was the only mention she'd made about her family, ever.

  Leo had since asked other folklorists about the version, but nobody knew: of it. He had made sure to teach it to Lucy, though, and to let her know where it came from, and that he felt it was a gift. "Music links us humans, heart to heart," he had said. "Across time and space, and life and death."