“I think she wants to get your permission to send me straight to Harvard. I’m freakishly smart, you know. I’m like one of them child prodigals.”
When I sit down in the classroom, I find Mrs. Ellis neither a cow, nor wanting to discuss my niece signing up for the SAT.
“Here is a large stack of work that Riley has yet to complete.” The older woman slides a thick yellow folder across a desk. “Maybe you could spend some time looking over it this weekend.” She smiles warmly, and the thought occurs that she’d make a lovely Mrs. Claus at the mall for Christmas. “I’m so glad you’re helping out. Riley needs someone in her corner.” She winks at my niece, but Riley just stares at her with all the enthusiasm of one watching grass grow.
I spear Riley with a look. “She will definitely get this work done.”
“Riley’s grades are terribly low. And she just sits there while others are completing their work.” She rests a hand on Riley’s shoulder. “Obviously there’s a sharp brain in there. I’d like to see her use it. She needs consistency. And some extra help.”
“I’ll do what I can, Mrs. Ellis.” Maybe I can find a tutor before I leave.
Mrs. Ellis clasps her hands together. “You know, the more an adult is involved, the greater chance for a child’s success.”
Unfortunately that adult can’t be me. “I do agree with you.”
“Perfect! I knew you would.” She waddles back to her desk and returns with a form. “We’re having a field trip Monday, and Riley hasn’t gotten her permission slip signed.”
“Oh, well, that’s easy enough.” I rummage in my purse for something to write with.
“Actually, I was hoping you could go with us.”
I drop my pen. “Huh?”
Mrs. Ellis’s smile dimples her cheeks. “We’re short on chaperones, and we really need the help.” She lifts a well-meaning brow. “And I’m sure Riley would love to have your company.”
Riley chews on a thumbnail. “Not really.”
“Well . . .” Not sure how to get out of this.
“It would mean a lot to us.” Mrs. Ellis tilts her head toward Riley. “I know you want to do everything you can to help out the school, as well as your niece.”
“Um, absolutely.”
“Wonderful! I think you’ll enjoy it.” Mrs. Ellis pats me on the back and beams. “We’ll be spending the entire day at Ivy Lake.”
Chapter Nine
nothing can bring on guilt like finding two empty Twinkie wrappers in your room and not remembering them passing across your lips.
Deciding I need to burn a few calories right away, I slip on my running shoes, tell Dad and Riley good-bye, and walk the two miles to Beth’s.
As I pass by the houses, buildings, and stores I used to know, I think about my high school days. What a punk I was. Didn’t care about anyone but myself. Didn’t know Christ then. Didn’t know much of anything except the whole town thought I was as wild as my mom, and I wanted to live up to that legacy. I was determined we’d both be remembered. And one of us definitely was.
I turn into a subdivision that wasn’t here five years ago and look for the fourth house on the right.
That’s funny. There are at least five cars there. I dig into my pocket and check the address again. Number eight Nightingale Lane.
Before I can lift a finger to push the bell, Beth swings the door wide open. “Get in here!” She pulls me to her in a fierce hug. “So glad you came.”
“Me too. I—” I freeze as I look up. Omigosh. A living room full of people. “What’s going on?”
“Well, this is our class reunion committee. Three classes, actually. We already had a meeting scheduled tonight, and I thought it would be the perfect chance for you to see some old friends.”
My eyes sweep the room, and my stomach goes south. The veterinarian stands there, arms crossed, looking like I just spit on his birthday cake.
“Hey, Maggie!” A large, bald-headed guy breaks from the pack and envelopes me in a bear hug. “Long time no see, eh?”
I laugh and pull away. “Chris Parsons.” Quarterback of the Ivy Lions. Take away thirty pounds, add some hair, and he looks just the same. “How are you?”
“Good. Got two ex-wives, three kids, and a job as a Wal-Mart assistant manager.”
For lack of anything better to say, I throw out a safe catchall phrase. “Wow.” I try not to look at Connor Blake, whose droll gaze remains locked on my face. “Do you live in Ivy still, Chris?”
“Nah. Live with my mother in Grapevine.” He nudges me with an elbow. “Between the alimony and child support, Mom’s basement is all this guy can afford!”
Okay, moving on. “Beth, maybe I should come back another time. I don’t want to interrupt your meeting.” Must get out of here.
Connor leans a hip against the leather couch. “Afraid of a little time with some old friends?”
Shelly Frances, a girl who was a grade below me, laughs. “Oh, the stories we could tell about Maggie.”
Chris snaps his fingers. “Yeah, like the time that—”
“I just remembered I left the oven on.” And I might stick my head in it. “I really should go.”
Beth stands near and puts an arm around me. “Let’s all be nice. No need to bring up old dirt.” She squeezes my shoulder. “Everybody gather round the dining room table for some lasagna and reunion discussion. Time’s ticking.”
We walk into the dining area to find the table all set. Ivory and blue plates, cloth napkins in an artsy pattern, and place cards made from mini picture frames.
“I have four kids, and we eat on Chinet. So I never get to break out the good stuff.” Beth motions for us all to sit down.
Locating my name, I find myself beside Mr. Personality. The doctor of rudeness.
I ease into the chair and force myself not to sniff him. Do not do it. Do not even—drat! He smells nice. Totally doesn’t smell like a jerk.
Beth brings out a big pan of lasagna and sets it in the middle of the table. Three more side dishes follow. Plates are filled and the conversation begins to flow. With each pass of a dish, I take a quick study of Connor Blake.
“Now, let’s talk about this reunion. It’s only four weeks away, and it will be here before we know it.” Beth sits at the head of the table and leads the meeting with all the skill of a congresswoman. Or a mother of four. “We decided last time to spice it up and be different.” She turns to me. “We want to have some activities at the dance. Like a quick ballroom lesson or some line dancing or karaoke. Something to give the night some variety and get people involved.”
The doorbell rings, and Beth glances at Connor. “You want to get that?”
He rests his napkin on the table and walks into the living room. When he returns, he has Riley’s principal beside him.
“Hello, everyone.”
Beth smiles. “Hey, Danielle. Grab a seat, and I’ll get you something to drink.”
Danielle looks at me, her face pinched.
“I’m campaigning for reunion queen,” I say. “Just wanted to get an early start.”
The guys on the other side of me laugh, but Danielle does not. With a few soft words to Connor, she takes her place at an empty spot at the other end.
I wonder if Connor and Danielle are dating. They certainly look good together.
Beth returns with a glass of water for the newcomer. “We were just reliving some old times and talking about our dance ideas.”
“Do you have any Maggie memories to share?” Chris asks.
“Yeah.” Danielle glares at me over the top of her glass.
Oh boy.
“I remember the time she hid my clothes in gym class, and I had to wear my smelly track uniform all day.”
This one I recall. “I’m sorry. I was terrible in school.” This evening is just a thrill a minute. Can’t wait to do it again in the next decade.
But Danielle isn’t through. “And I remember you asked my prom date to go at the last minute, and he dumped me.
And then you didn’t show up.”
“Yeah, I didn’t go to prom that year.” My mother drowned the day before prom. I spent the entire weekend in bed, so the furthest thing from my mind was my date. My mother had helped me pick out my dress. It was black and sparkly, and it made me feel like a princess. I didn’t attend prom the next year either. It was just too much. That dress still hangs in the back of my closet, a beautiful reminder of the ugliest time.
“The girl’s mother had died.” Beth’s tone carries a warning. “I’m sure it’s hard to think about your updo when you’ve just lost a parent.”
“Drop it, Danielle.” This from Connor. “I just want to focus on the food,” he says in a lighter tone, making me want to kiss his cheek and thank him. “Besides, if we were to list off all the things Maggie did wrong in high school, we’d be here all week.”
Rescinding that thank-you now.
Beth consults a legal pad beside her plate. “Chris, you still gonna contact the DJ and try to get a better deal?”
“I’m on it.”
She turns to a guy in thick glasses and a Star Trek T-shirt. “Michael, I need you to go check out that other band. I’m just not sure about the one we have.”
“Going this week.”
“Jermaine, you need to get me the bids from at least three florists by our next meeting.”
“Sure thing, Beth.”
She fires off jobs for every person, and my head spins with all the details involved with a simple two-day gathering.
“Now, I have the number for a ballroom dancing instructor, but everyone’s delegated to something already.” Beth turns to me.
I grin wide. “That look may work on your husband, but it won’t on me. I’m just here for a quick visit. And watching my niece has become a full-time job.”
“Oh.” Her face falls. “I guess you’re right. I’ll do it. I mean, never mind that I have four babies to raise, a part-time job, and one depressed husband who spends all his time pounding the pavement for work.” She stares at her lap.
The noose tightens around my neck. “Fine. I’ll do it.”
She perks up instantly. “Great! Now Maggie needs a partner.” She scans the table as Michael and Jermaine raise their hands high. “Connor can go.”
Danielle puts down her fork. “I’ll go with Connor. I wouldn’t want to impose on Maggie’s vacation.”
“No,” Beth says. “Maggie needs something to fill her hours.”
Don’t I have a say in this? “But I—”
“And we all know if she gets bored, she gets in trouble.” Beth’s smile is so sweet, it takes out most of the sting.
I steal a glance at Connor, who butters his roll without saying a word.
I surprise myself by staying the entire time. In fact, when I next look at my watch, there are only a few of us remaining.
I stand up and stretch. “I should get home.”
Beth hands me my purse and follows me to the door. “I’m so glad you came.”
I look at my friend, the girl who stood beside me through every catastrophe I got her into. “Me too. I’m sorry it took so long.” I open the front door, only to feel the mist of rain. “Oh great.”
Beth glances in the driveway. “You walked?”
I nod. “After I lost a battle with Twinkies.”
“Connor can take you home.”
“No!” I pull on Beth’s arm. “That’s okay. What’s a little rain, eh?”
Connor walks to the doorway, his henley stretching over his chest like he’s a Gap model. “I’ll drive you.”
“Um . . . all right.” We both say our good-byes and quickly walk to his truck.
Connor opens the passenger door and helps me in.
I barely click my seat belt in place before the man goes on the attack. “Beth’s got a lot going on right now. Don’t commit to helping her out if you’re not going to follow through.”
Watching the rain rivulets race down the window, I force myself to count to ten. In French. Then Spanish. “For someone who’s smart enough to get his doctorate, it surprises me that you’re dumb enough to think I’m the same girl I was at sixteen.”
He navigates a turn. “Aren’t you?”
“You’ve certainly changed. At least appearance-wise. But tell me, were you this much of a jerk back then or is this a new development?”
“I care about people.”
“And I don’t?” He shoots me a look I can’t fathom in the darkness of the truck. “Why don’t you just say whatever it is you want to say to me, Connor.”
He pulls into my dad’s driveway, and the only sound between us is the rain and swish of the windshield wipers.
“I’ll pick you up for the dance class Saturday at six.”
“Don’t you trust me to be there?” I don’t even let him answer. “I’ll just meet you.”
“I’ll be here at six.”
“Your chivalry is borderline obnoxious.” I feel around the door for the handle and finding it, give it a good tug. “Good night.”
“I knew your sister.”
The rain assaults my face as his words stop me cold. “Beth said you were . . . acquainted.”
He shrugs. “Your sister and I were friends. She confided in me sometimes.”
The rain sops my hair, but I can’t seem to move. “And the mystery unfolds. This is why you can’t stand me.”
He closes his eyes for a brief moment. “I don’t dislike you. I just don’t trust you. Your sister never had anything good to say about you. When I came back to Ivy to take over my dad’s practice, she was still here. With a baby and a sister who wouldn’t even give her the time of day.” He shakes his head. “I know I’m not supposed to judge, and I’m trying, but Maggie, she was alone and messed up, and all she could talk about was you.”
I brush the wet bangs from my cheek. “I—I . . .” How do I explain this to a stranger? “She has a mental disease. She’d never take her meds. And you believe her over me?”
“Seeing’s believing. You haven’t been to Ivy in five years. Just don’t get that niece’s hopes up if you’re not planning on being a permanent part of her life. She’s had the wind knocked out of her too many times.”
“You didn’t know the real Allison.”
“Maybe not.” He flicks on his defrost. “But I knew you. And I know that little girl who’s been nothing but alone.”
I slam his door shut and run into the house.
That night I go to bed with my anger and dream of my mother. And the lake.
Again.
Chapter Ten
After all these years, math still makes my head hurt.
“No.” I pick up the pencil and hand it to my niece. “Nine divided by three is what?”
As Riley stares at the worksheet, my mind wanders back to last night. Who does Connor Blake think he is? And the nerve of him to say, “I don’t mean to be judgmental” right before he totally unloads his misguided opinions on me. Like that made it okay? Well, I didn’t mean to eat all the strawberry Jolly Ranchers in the bag last night either, but that doesn’t mean that I didn’t do it. Or that the calories aren’t circulating right now with a game plan to head straight to my butt. What exactly did my sister tell him about me?
“Done.”
I pop back into the present as my niece shoves her homework toward me. “Let me see.” I scan her math work and find it all correct. “You’re great with numbers.”
Her hazel eyes drop to her hands, but I see the pink bloom on her cheeks.
“Okay, let’s move on to English. Did you read that short story last night?”
“Yeah, couldn’t put it down.”
Oh really? “All right, tell me about Helen Keller.”
Riley stares at a spot outside the kitchen window. “She’s a really great lady.”
“And what else about her?”
Riley bites her lip and strikes a reflective pose. “I don’t know. I read four other short stories after that, and it’s all kind of running to
gether.”
“How is Helen Keller different from you and me?”
“She’s a midget.”
“A midget?”
“Yes, and she wants to play in the WNBA, but nobody will listen to her.” Riley gives her head a mournful shake. “Nobody believes in Helen.”
I flip open her language arts book to the short story and point my finger to an illustration of Helen. “She’s deaf and blind.”
Riley steals a glance. “Wow, that would be really hard with the height thing.”
I straighten my spine and roll some tension out of my shoulders. “Riley, you didn’t read this.”
“I accidentally read the wrong one.”
Her tone is desperate, but I’m learning not to buy into what this kid sells. “Let’s just read it right now then. Aloud. You read a paragraph and then I will.”
An inner struggle plays across Riley’s face. She sits there for a full minute, flipping through the book, brushing crumbs off her shirt, crossing and uncrossing her legs.
“Today, Riley.”
“I’m mentally rehearsing my character voices. Don’t rush me.” She takes a deep breath and stares at the first page. “There . . . was . . . was . . .”
“Once,” I supply.
“I know! Once a girl . . .” Her eyes squint at the word.
“Named.”
“Named Hannah.”
“Helen.”
“Helen Keller. And she was a difficult person.”
I double-check the words. “She was a different child.”
Riley shoves the book away. “This is stupid. How am I supposed to read something so boring when it’s about to put me to sleep?”
Maybe she needs glasses. “Can you see the page okay?”
“Yeah.”
“What’s this word?” I put my finger under the word friend.
“If you don’t know, I’m not going to tell you.” Riley drums her fingers on the table. “With all this homework, I don’t have time to teach you to read.”
“What’s the word, Riley?”
“Farmer.” She slips off the chair. “I gotta go. I promised a friend I’d call and check on her. She made an A-minus on her spelling test yesterday and is threatening to OD on juice boxes.”
Just Between You and Me Page 6
