by Nancy Werlin
Lucy lingered uncertainly on the threshold. "Are you sure?"
"Yeah." Zach made a motion with his hand. He tried to keep his gaze fixed on Lucy's face.
Lucy was just beginning the fourteenth week of pregnancy, and so far there was not much to see. But still Zach had caught himself compulsively glancing at her waist each day. He kept hoping—he had to admit—that it would all turn out to be some big mistake. Or even that something would go wrong. Sometimes miscarriages just happened, spontaneously, and it was nobody's fault.
He wondered if Lucy ever hoped that too. She couldn't make the decision not to have the baby, he could understand that, but wouldn't she be glad, secretly, if the decision were made for her by fate?
His discomfort caused him to avoid Lucy sometimes.
Zach was suddenly aware that Lucy was avoiding looking at him right now. It made him conscious of the fact that he wasn't wearing a shirt. And just as suddenly, that made him feel shy, even though Lucy had seen him shirtless probably about a thousand times in their lifetimes.
Of course, he was older now. And, uh, more developed.
Then he realized that he wanted her to look. To look at him. To see him.
But Lucy was studying the furniture in his room, as if she had never seen that before either.
All right, then. "Hang on. Let me just—" He fumbled open a drawer and grabbed a new Red Sox T-shirt, courteously turning his back to Lucy while he pulled it on.
He turned to find Lucy's brow furrowed. She said, "Nice shirt."
Zach grinned, more comfortable now. "I got it the other day," he said. "Remember I told you I'd lost my old Yaz shirt, years ago?" He turned to show her the name on the back. "Finally, I got a replacement."
There was an odd frown on Lucy's face. "Yaz," she said softly.
"Yeah, Carl Yastrzemski. Played in the '60s and '70s, you know that, right? I might get some other classic players too. Luis Tiant, Carlton Fisk, Ted Williams—"
"Yastrzemski!" Amazement had filled Lucy's face. She turned abruptly, almost running out of Zach's room.
Puzzled, Zach followed as she went down the hall to her own room. He stood in the doorway and watched as Lucy knelt in front of the built-in bookcase and rapidly tossed all the books out of the bottom shelf. Then she lifted the shelf out completely and sat back on her heels, breathing fast, staring down.
Zach squatted beside her. "What're you doing?" Beneath where the shelf had been, there were a few inches of dusty space above the floor, and right there, he could see—
"It's your shirt." Lucy was clenching her hands in her lap. "Your original Yaz shirt. You gave it to me when I was seven. I just remembered."
"I did?"
"Yes. I think because you forgot to get me a birthday present and it was all you had. You pretended you bought it for me, but I knew better. I was angry at you. I put it in here."
"Wow. Sorry." Zach stared at the folded shirt. "So you hid it because you were mad at me?"
Lucy flushed a little. "Not exactly. I don't quite remember the details. It's all just beginning to come back to me now."
"May I?" Zach gestured toward the shirt.
"It's yours."
"No," Zach said. "Apparently I gave it to you ten years ago." He smiled at Lucy, and after a moment, she smiled back. It was a strained smile, but he thought it was better than the look that had been on her face a moment ago. Okay, so he'd been a jerk at nine or ten. On the other hand, the shirt had meant a lot to him, and it said something that he'd given it to Lucy. Even if he didn't remember doing it.
"May I?" he said again.
"Yes."
Zach lifted the shirt out of the secret space. As he took it into his hands, paper crackled inside it. He paused, startled. His gaze met Lucy's, and then Zach caught a sheaf of handwritten pages just as they started to slide out from the folded T-shirt.
He recognized the handwriting on the pages instantly. Indeed, he recognized the shape and look of the paper itself.
Miranda's diary.
Beside him, he heard Lucy inhale. "Oh," she said. "All right. I remember this now too. I found something in here, under the shelf. Paper. And then I left it with the shirt."
Together, their eyes took in the first words on the first page.
Dear Lucinda,
How strange it is to be writing to you when you're not even born. But it feels wonderful too, to talk to you, even though I'm scared, scared for you and for me.
Zach tore his gaze away from the page to look at Lucy. "It's from Miranda," he said, though he knew she knew.
Lucy reached out to take the pages from Zach. "There-were pages torn out of her diary," she said. "I wonder if these could be them."
"My God," said Zach.
Lucy was pale. "When I put the shirt here, the pages were here already, hidden below the bottom shelf of the bookcase. Miranda must have done that. And I found them and left them, all those years ago. I didn't—I couldn't imagine what they were then. I didn't know. I barely knew how to read. I put them away and forgot." She had folded the mass of paper in her hands and was holding it tightly.
Zach wanted to say something—anything—that would be right. But he didn't have even the smallest clue what that might be.
This was how he'd been feeling all the time lately around Lucy. Every day, that baby grew inside her, and it seemed to Zach that a new barrier between him and Lucy grew too. It now seemed incredible to remember how easily they'd always been able to talk. But now it felt like he was frozen, watching while she headed into some dark place where he couldn't follow.
The whole business about the baby felt bigger and more horrible to Zach than it really was. Why was this situation messing so much with his mind? His feelings? Why was he so uneasy around Lucy?
Despite how this particular baby had come to be, it didn't have to be some big tragedy. In fact, it was absolutely going to be okay. Lucy would love the baby. Soledad and Leo would love the baby too. They had said so. Babies were just sort of inherently lovable anyway. And Zach also knew that there would be enough money.
Leo had said, "Lucy, it won't be easy, but we'll work it all out every step of the way, as a family. You know what? I'm remembering when we got you. It was a surprise, but it was also just amazingly great and we wouldn't have missed it for anything. In the end, it's going to feel just like that when this baby comes."
With the rational part of his mind, Zach agreed.
But some other, non-rational part of him didn't.
Now there was this new discovery. Zach looked in Lucy's face, and then down at her hands where they tightly grasped the torn-out pages from Miranda's diary. And he knew that this wasn't going to be good news.
A second later Lucy confirmed it. "Zach?" Lucy said quietly. "I wish that I could just burn this."
CHAPTER 26
The moment she said the words, Lucy knew she didn't mean them. Or rather, that she did—she really did wish she could burn the letter and the newfound pages from Miranda's diary. But she also knew she should not, could not, and would not.
She said to Zach, "Oh, I won't. I'll read every word. Just not for a few minutes. I need to breathe first."
Zach nodded. "Are you all right?"
"Yes." Lucy stood up, and put the pages on a higher shelf of the bookshelf. Then she reached to take the Red Sox T-shirt out of Zach's hands. She shook it out and held it up to herself. Somehow the gesture brought back the past fully.
"I remember. It's so weird, but I remember thinking this wouldn't fit me, back when I was seven. I had some idea that I would hide it until I was bigger. And look. I guess I did that. It will fit now. For another month or two, anyway."
"Yeah." Zach had moved so that he was seated cross-legged on the floor. "It'll look great on you."
Lucy went to the room's full-length mirror on the back the door. She pulled on the shirt over the white tank top she was already wearing. "I like it."
Maybe it was the magic she had asked for all those years ago, as a littl
e girl. Suddenly Lucy had courage. She turned to Zach. "Have you been avoiding me lately?"
Zach's gaze flickered away. "Why do you say that?"
Lucy waited.
Zach blurted, "Yes. Okay. I have been. I'm sorry, Luce."
"Why?"
"Because I'm an idiot. Because I wish—I don't know. It just—it hurts to see you like this. I'm sorry."
"You mean pregnant?" Of course that was what he meant. Lucy just wanted to force him to say it.
"Yeah. Pregnant." It was almost a whisper. Zach was looking down, his hair hanging over his face.
Lucy said evenly, "I'm the same person."
"I know that."
"It doesn't seem like you do. Don't you see? You ignore me, avoid me. What am I supposed to think?" Lucy thought of the diary, of the part where Miranda said her friend Kia had dropped her.
"Luce," Zach said. At least he was looking at her again. "I admire you. Really and truly, I do."
He sounded sincere.
"I think I hear a 'but' coming," said Lucy.
Zach sighed. "Yeah. But. But also, I'm just …" He stopped.
She waited. Part of her wanted to help him, to tell him it was okay and that she understood. But it wasn't and she didn't.
Finally he spoke. "I'm just so angry for you, Luce. Not at you, but for you. Deep-in-my-gut angry. I know Leo and Soledad are looking out for you, and I know how reliable they are. I know you'll be okay. You and the baby. With my head I know that. But I'm still mad. It's all going to be so much harder now for you than it ought to be. Finishing high school. Going to college. And, well, you know. Boys. Having a life."
"Oh," said Lucy quietly. "I know. Believe me. I'm not living in some fantasy land." She put her arms around herself, feeling the sleeves of the new/old Yastrzemski T shirt that he had given her so long ago. "That's why I need you for my friend."
"I am your friend," Zach said.
"Really?"
"Really."
Lucy turned to look at the T-shirt in the mirror again. For some reason, it was easier to meet Zach's gaze through the mirror. "I want the baby, Zach," she said steadily. "I need you to understand this. I don't know why I feel this way, but I love the baby. I want the baby. Every day, I want it more. About everything else, building a life for myself the way I was going to, I don't know yet how it will happen, how I'll do it, but I will. I have my parents, like you said. I'm still going to college. And—well, I will have a life."
"Good," Zach said. "I know that. I just—"
Lucy interrupted, suddenly fierce. "But let me say this. If you can't be the friend I need now, if it makes you too uneasy or sad or angry or whatever it is, then you can go. And don't let the door hit you on the way out. I'll find better friends than you. I mean it, Zach."
Zach was gaping at her.
"And guess what? I'll be just fine without you," Lucy said. "I don't need some halfhearted friendship from somebody who I embarrass or whatever. You can go. Go on and lead your regular, normal life."
Then she had to stop speaking. Her throat had closed up. She shut her eyes.
She heard Zach say, "I am your friend, Lucy. I always have been. I always will be."
She could hear his breathing, and hers, in the room. She was thinking about opening her eyes, about turning back to face him, when his phone rang.
Don't pick up, she thought.
But Zach did pick up. His voice sounded almost normal as he answered some question from his college roommate about the arrangements for moving back into their dorm room. "I'm in the middle of something," he said then. "I'll call you back later."
By then Lucy had opened her eyes and stepped away. The phone call had interrupted the urgent feeling that had made her speak. All she was left with was anger and the beginning of resignation. What did it matter if Zach was her friend, for real, forever, or if he drifted away, embarrassed and alienated by her pregnancy? Why had she even wanted to have this discussion? He would be leaving for college in a few weeks. He would return to his ordinary world of roommates and classes. Life would go on for him in the regular way, as it never again would for her.
She felt like she was seven again, and he was nine, and there was nothing she could do to keep him. Only now she wondered if he was worth keeping.
She heard him say good-bye to his roommate. He turned off the phone. He came up to her. She wouldn't look at him.
But she heard him.
"What can I do for you, Lucy?" he said simply. "How can I help you? What would the best friend you'd ever want do?"
"I don't know," Lucy said, and meant it.
There was a silence.
Then Zach said, "Look at me."
And she did.
His face was white, his expression almost grim. He said, "I will always be your friend, Lucy. I will never walk away on you. I deserved what you said to me just now, I know I did. I'm glad you said it. I needed to hear it. But I never will again, I promise."
Lucy searched his face. She didn't know what to think. She waited.
"Okay," Zach said. "Listen. When we found Miranda's Mary, you wanted to be alone while you read it. I understood. But a lot has happened since then. So, can we read these new pages together? You don't have to be alone. I can share this with you. A friend would. Right?"
There was a second in which Lucy's heart leaped. But then she shook her head. "That's not—not what I meant."
"Why not? It's a real thing I can do for you right now."
"But it's better if I'm alone when I read the pages. Like was when I read the diary."
"Why?"
Lucy bit her lip. "You haven't read the earlier stuff yet. Some of it is very weird. And I'm afraid that these pages will be even stranger than the stuff in the diary. Plus, how will you understand the torn-out pages if you haven't read the diary yet?"
"I'm pretty smart," said Zach reasonably. "I can go back and read the diary later, if you let me. The point, though, is that you don't have to do this part alone. It doesn't actually matter whether I understand everything you do."
Lucy still hesitated.
Zach walked across the room and picked up the pages from the bookshelf. "Lucy?" he said. "Let's just read them. Together. Now. Okay?"
Lucy blinked. Then she said, “Okay.” And was astonished at the flood of relief that filled her.
They sat down, side by side, on the floor by Lucy's bed, with Miranda's pages between them.
They read them together.
CHAPTER 27
Dear Lucinda,
How strange it is to be writing to you when you're not even born. But it feels wonderful too, to talk to you, even though I'm scared, scared for you and for me. But I can feel you right now, beneath my heart. You're awake and alert. Nowadays, so often, you kick and you fight inside me. There isn't enough room in there anymore, but you're still good-humored. You play these little physical jokes on me that make me laugh.
I like you already. I've read so many books about pregnancy, and had so many talks with Soledad (I hope and pray you know Soledad) but nobody has said that. They talk about love and tenderness and protectiveness, but also when you're pregnant, at least this far along, you can put your hands on your belly and feel the baby and her personality, and just plain like her.
You are due to come into this world any day now. I need to make sure you learn everything that I know. I believe that this letter and my journal are my only hope for transferring to you the knowledge that I have about our family history. I want you to have more than the song, you see. The song was all that I had. It's all that HE permits us to have, in the little game he's playing with our family.
But those are his rules, and not mine. Maybe he won't find this letter or the pages from my diary I've ripped out for you.
So, this is what I've figured out: We are women who have baby daughters at eighteen and then go insane. My mother did I will too. It is not our fault. We're a long chain of women who are cursed. But there might be a way to break the curse.
&nb
sp; I have failed to do that. I look in the mirror now and see my mother and I am so afraid you will end like us: doomed, cursed… all sorts of melodramatic, ridiculous, but true things.
But when you are my age and pregnant like me, you need not fail your own daughter, so long as I let you know what is going on soon enough for you to act. I learned about the curse too late myself. All I had was the song, and my little bit of knowledge of my mother.
I don't have much time left, not enough to write it all out properly, logically. So I'm just going to rip out the important pages from my diary that describe the ballad and how I discovered it and how I tried to do what it asked, and how I failed. Perform the tasks in the ballad and you'll be saved. It's as simple and as hard as that. I believe there must be a way, even though the tasks seem impossible to me right now.
I'll put these pages in a hiding place in my room, here in Soledad and Leo's house. I will pray that you find them, or that Soledad and Leo find them for you.
I'm also praying that you'll be living with Soledad and Leo. I told Soledad that if anything happens to me, I want her to have you. She didn't understand how serious I was, and I didn't want to have her think me crazy now, so I didn't say more, but she'll remember. She wants a child, but can't have one of her own. They're already talking about adoption. Why shouldn't it be you? They'll love you. You'll have the safe childhood and loving parents I didn't. I want that for you.
Lucinda, it's the miracle of my having met Soledad and Leo, just when I needed them, that gives me the most hope. It is the one thing that has gone right for me in my life.
Soledad. Leo. If you read this: Know that I love you. Thank you for caring for me, and for caring for my daughter, as I know you will. Believe me that this is real. Support and help Lucinda to do what she must to save herself and her baby.
Lucinda, please believe me too. Don't think I'm crazy. I am not crazy as I write, I promise.
I picked out your name already. Lucinda means light, and it's a name that sounds a little like mine, which I am vain enough to want.
