Julia opened her bedroom door, managing to hold the tears back until she had slammed and locked the many often painted solid wood door. It made a satisfying sound each time she did that. It seemed to be the perfect punctuation to the end of another one of those endless arguments she'd been having with her mother. Winter had been long.
Julia stood in the middle of her bedroom, crying silently, tears washing the make-up down her peachy cheeks. Why did her mother bring the same issue up all the time? It seemed that they couldn't have one supper time without her mother hinting about her boyfriend, Tom. Boyfriend, HA!
If her mom knew the truth, she'd flip her wig. Julia, her cousin and best friend Amy and Tom had been best friends their whole lives. They lived in the same little coastal town, Fish Creek, WI. Their mothers had been best friends all through school. Julia and Amy''s mothers were sisters. There wasn't anything they didn't know about each other. Or so they thought growing up. Tom was on the Little League team for the town of Fish Creek, and so was Amy, so Julia was the cheerleader for them, and the whole team. Tom's mom had two jobs, as did most parents in this small town, during the summer tourist months, so they were mostly on their own. They'd bike to the ball field behind the fire station down county highway F for the game, and then stop at the YumYum Tree Ice Cream and Candy store on their way home, sun setting as they arrived. Sometimes, on the really hot and muggy nights, they'd stop and splash in the bay at the public beach. But they were always home by 9:30. Julia stopped, realizing she was doing it again, remembering the past. She sank to the floor, crying again. If her mom knew the truth, she'd probably lock Julia in her room forever, or at the very least, forbid her to see her cousin and best friend, forever. There'd be no way she could ever tell the truth or ask for help. There was nothing she could do. There was a knock on her door. Her mom said, "Julia, Julia, let me in."
Julia held her head. "Mom, please, I just want to get my homework done."
"We have to get the truth out in the open, Julia. Open your door this minute."
Julia stared at the door. She couldn't believe her mom was doing this. What had she done to make her mom think there was something between her and Tom. What a joke.
"Julia." Her mom's voice was getting that edge. Julia knew where the argument was headed, and she groaned.
"What was that, are you ok? Julia, open this door NOW!"
The knocking sounded like her heart pounding.
*******************************************************************
"Julia! Open this door now or I'll. I'll. I'll do something you'll regret."
"Fine, fine, fine......" Julia reached for the kleenex and blew her nose. Her cat, Max, looked at her from her pink pillow and blinked at her. "Yeah," she whispered. "I know."
Julia reached for the lock on her door knob and her mother started to pound on her door. "I can't believe it, Mom, said Julia. "I am opening the door as we speak." She unlocked the door and her mom yanked it open.
"Julia, you scared me! Don't ever lock your door again."
"Let me have my privacy and I won't have to lock my door."
"What do you have to keep private? Secrets? What are you ashamed of?"
"Mom, I have two hours of homework left to do and I have jazz band early in the morning and a volleyball game tomorrow night away so I have to get a start on tomorrow's work, too. Can we please stop this?"
"Don't change the subject, Julia. You're not going anywhere until I get to the bottom of this."
Julia looked at her mom. Anna's hair was turning gray slowly and the blond highlights she paid for on a monthly basis covered most of them up. But mostly, her mom looked tired. Her two jobs left her little time to clean her house or do any yard work, but she used every minute of daylight to get all that done. They hadn't had a meal together since Easter, when the season started. She suddenly felt bad for her mom and reached out for her.
"Mom, please, there's nothing to find out. I'm telling you the truth." tears filled her eyes. "Tom and Amy and I are best friends. He's like a brother to me. I've known him since he moved here when he was three. Amy and I have had to beat kids up for teasing him in third grade. I couldn't be his girlfriend even if someone paid me a millions dollars."
Anna looked at her daughters blue eyes, all bloodshot from all the crying she'd done tonight. She knew there was something her daughter wasn't talking about, and the first thought she'd had was sex or drugs. Those kids were too close, she worried, and she was sure something was up between them. She reached for her daughter's hand.
"Ok, ok. I believe you aren't secretly dating Tom. But I know something's up, and you know I'll find out what it is. Make it easier for all of you and tell me,"
"Oh, forget the whole thing," Julia said, her voice getting sharper. "Leave me alone!" she she yelled and she ran to her room, slammed the door and locked it.
"Don't you slam that door, missy."
"Julia? Answer me!?"
Anna fell against the door, sobbing, repeating Julia's name over and over. "I'm just trying to do the right thing," she kept saying. "The right thing."
Chapter 2
Valerie leaned back in her seat, waiting for the small jet to land her, finally, in Green Bay. The flights had been uneventful, almost boring from San Francisco, although, as usual, she had had to make several changes. Getting to her parents home in Fish Creek, in northeastern Wisconsin, had always been an adventure and she'd always enjoyed each trip back.
But today, no, there was no excitement, no anticipation. Her family was not expecting her. It wasn't a holiday, nor was she bringing home the love of her life to meet the most important people in her life.
She was running away from her life in California. Running away from the pain, and the embarrassment, of her failed marriage to that love of her life, whom, it turned out, hadn't been as charmed and enamored of her parents and siblings as he had lead her to believe. It was one of the many lies she had been assaulted with the past six months. She was tired. All she wanted to do was sleep. Then the tires met the runway and she sighed. Time to get up and go, again. At least she was at Austin Straubel International Airport in Green Bay, and getting her luggage and finding her rental would be smooth, easy and fast.
Valerie thanked the shuttle driver as he loaded her many suitcases in the mid-sized rental. The spring evening, still light, was dropping in temperature and she shivered. "I'll just warm up in the car," she muttered. "I'm not digging through my luggage for that one sweatshirt. And I'm going to stop talking out loud to myself right now."
The next few hours passed swiftly. She didn't see much, she was too busy reviewing her past, especially the years right after high school. So much had happened then, so many plans and dreams had been made, changed and abandoned. She hadn't kept in touch with anyone from her high school, not even Tom and Julia, her best friends since she was in pre-school. And now, she was moving back and would have to face them sometime. There was no way she could hide from seeing anyone from her past.
She pulled her dark red hair back from her face, twisting her long hair into a knot. Oh, she'd lost her hair pins, again, as usual. Her eyes were dry and scratchy they were so tired. She'd been traveling for over 15 hours and the last few were the hardest.
She decided in Sturgeon Bay, only 35 minutes from her parents home, that she would stop at the AmericanInn for the night, and finish her journey home in the morning, after a good sleep, a long hot shower and a good midwestern breakfast, and not the McDonalds across the street.
Valerie slept late, for her. Drapes pulled shut had blocked the cloudy dawn sky from her unexceptional room, appointed with a teetery table, two chairs and the ubiquitous microwave/television/mini-frig. She opened her green eyes just a little bit, squinting, actually, and swiftly closed them. It was too early.
Hoping against hope, Valerie closed her eyes, pulled a pillow over her head and settled back under the blanket. Maybe, she prayed, she could fall back asleep.
No one knew where she was. No one was expecting her. No one even thought about her, and that thought stabbed her beneath her heart. She began to sob into the pillow with such ferocity that she took herself by surprise. Would she ever stop this crying?
Soon, she fell asleep.
The phone rang at ten o'clock with a message from the desk telling her she had just one hour before check out.
She dragged herself out of bed and into the shower, standing for twenty minutes under the lukewarm water. Too hot, her skin would dry out, too cold and she'd never warm up all day. Luke warm was the only other choice, and not one she was happy about. It was hard to make decisions for herself based on what she wanted
Dressed and packed, she left the room as the housekeeping staff approached her door. "Christ!" she muttered to herself. "I forgot the tip." She didn't think it would matter, since she had no reason to think she'd ever come back to this hotel. But she still felt bad, since she had been a housekeeper when in high school, and she knew what it felt like when she didn't get a tip.
Cheated.
Talking to the girl at the front desk, she learned that the best place for breakfast was the Country Kitchen on the west side of Sturgeon Bay, and on her way north.
Breakfast was almost passable and she wondered about that. She had had better breakfasts here when she was in high school and after a late night she and her friends would pack into a car and drive down for an early breakfast. She remembered the food to be better, but, she thought, she remembered her past differently all together, so why not breakfast.
She thought she'd stop in the local library and the grocery store to pick up essentials for her self. Her parents were older and set in their ways. She liked skim milk in her coffee. She liked coffee. Her parents never drank anything hot, and she was certain they didn't have a coffee maker, so off to Target she went, after breakfast to find a coffee maker. Then to the Pick n Save to buy some skim milk, some fruit and some brown rice some vegetables and spices. Her parents, the good Danish they were, believed in well cooked meat and potatoes with some dead veggies on the side, but always bread. She wanted to be prepared.
At the library she was stunned to see all the computer desks full of elderly people surfing. The children's corner was just filling up. The place was humming. She wandered over to the Art Museum to see the exhibit but was disappointed to see that it was opening later that day. That hadn't changed, the odd hours. Back home, she winced, because back home was confusing right now, back home the museums had regular hours, just like a business, and you could count on the art's availability.
Finally, it was time for a coffee and snack instead of lunch and she found a sweet coffee shop downtown Sturgeon Bay that served little sandwiches and soups, but she stuck with her skinny latte and biscotti.
And then headed north after debating once more whether or not to call ahead. She couldn't bear to imagine that telephone conversation, so she put it off, once again. The surprise of her arrival might be enough to slow down the barrage of questions she knew she faced.
"Christ! Shit! Damnitalltohell!" she looked at her rear view mirror and then to her speedometer. Although she had lifted her foot off the accelerator as soon as she saw the flashing lights behind her she was still over 70 mph. "Great, this is a perfect way to announce my presence," she groaned as she pulled over to the shoulder, turned on her emergency blinker lights and reached for her wallet all the while wondering just which deputy would be the one to write the ticket.
Chapter 3
Julia closed her classroom door behind her, hearing the lock engage. She sighed.
It had been a long week, and her weekend promised to be more stressful. She was not looking forward to spring cleaning at the motel. She wasn't looking forward to the season, cleaning up after vacationers. She wanted a vacation herself. And then there were all those essays she had to read, critique, comment on and assign grades. Usually this excited her. Not this semester. She wasn't sure why, and this afternoon she didn't even care.
"Julia, can we talk?" George Johansen was walking up behind her. "There is a problem with one of your students."
Her blue eyes, rimmed in red, closed briefly and she brushed her fair hair back from her face. Her headache had doubled it's throbbing. "George, do you think we could talk about this next week? I have an appointment in a few minutes," her voice was verging on a whine, and she winced. She sounded like her seniors whining about homework.
"It will only take a few moments. Here, I'll carry one of your bags and walk you to your car so you won't be late."
As usual, she had no retort. She handed her unzipped briefcase with all her homework to George with a sigh.
"I bet this is about Jorge."
"You know?"
"I'm not deaf, you know. I hear the kids talking."
"What have they been saying?"
"They think he's an idiot, talking so big about his father and uncle in Mexico."
"They don't know the truth of the matter, though, do they?"
"No. Jorge hasn't told them the truth. I think saying it will make it too real for him, so all the lying happens."
"Has he had any confrontations in your classroom?"
"There have been some challenges, but nothing very damaging. He doesn't confide in me, you know. He's only been here a few months."
"Has he written anything revealing?"
She looked at George steadily, thinking hard. Was there a privacy issue here? Sometimes her assignments required her students to reveal thoughts and feelings and Jorge had shared some, but could she share them with this man, this school counselor who was so old school that he seemed to carry the odor of an old library book with him. What would he do?
"Nothing that pertains to this issue, George, I would tell you if there was something important, really I would."
She could tell by his slight pause he didn't really believe her. He had been in the school so long that he had been her school counselor when she attenuated this small rural school. In fact, that was one of the more thrilling aspects of teaching at the school she graduated from. She could work with teachers whom she had admired and emulated all those years ago.
"Well, if you do get some information, anything at all, tell me as soon as possible."
"I will, I promise. Thanks for the help with my bag, George. Have a lovely weekend, do you have plans?"
"Lucille and I are traveling to visit our children and grandkids in Sheboygan for a birthday party, and we have some yardwork we hope to start, too. Depends on the weather you know, and spring is iffy at best."
"I did read that it will be dry on Sunday."
"I hope so, though Lucille would rather do spring cleaning than raking," he laughed. "I'd rather be outside digging in the dirt and she'd rather suck all that winter dirt up! We're a team all right!"
Julia smiled back as she unlocked her dark green Explorer's back door to load up all her homework.
"Bye and thanks again." She watched him walk away, a slight limp from his recent hip replacement was the only outward sign of his age. There was no way she could tell him what she really knew about Jorge. He'd throw this book at the boy, and alert the authorities. Her stomach flipped over. What would happen to her if someone found out that she knew the truth about her newest student's illegal immigration and his family's tragedy.
Jorge had been telling everyone his father and uncle were big time businessmen in Mexico City, and that they were international importer/exporters. The truth was they were in hiding because the drug cartels had kidnapped his cousin for ransom and sent threatening messages that if they didn't import and export drugs for the cartel both their families would die. He had been sent to northeast Wisconsin to family friends via Canada, as had been his two sisters, who were staying in Canada. How did she know this? She'd found a letter stuck in an assignment he had handed in and read it before she had returned it to him.
"Did you read this?" Jorge had asked, alarmed at his mistake.
"No, of course not, Jorge. I recognized it as a letter immediately, the hand writing is different from yours."
"It's just a letter from my sister who is traveling."
Jorge's English was accented but excellent. He'd had good schooling, but his English writing skills were still needing practice and she had contacted a tutor to help him.
If she told anyone what she knew, she knew his secret would be revealed, he'd be deported back to Mexico, as would his sisters, and then the efforts of his family to protect these young people would be for naught. They would all die.
It was a risk she would take.
Julia started her SUV automatically, and headed for her apartment with out even thinking about it. She was about to turn into the driveway she shared with her landlord when she remembered her 'appointment'.
"Damnitalltohell" she muttered. A thrill ran through her, she better cut this out or she will lose her job. One day she'll use colorful language at school and probably with in ear shot of her principal, Mr. Smith.
She turned her car around, and sped down Cty. YY on her way to her haircut, which was supposed to start, with or without her, in 8 minutes. It was one of her special treats, to go once a week for a haircut, even though she only needed on once every six weeks, but she got to visit with her best friend, Tina, get a neck and head massage and catch up on the gossip of the week. It was what she did every Friday afternoon. Then they would go out for a drink and dinner, catch a movie or play or an art gallery opening. Nothing was open, and they'd seen all the movies, so it would be a short evening. And that would be good, because she had to get up early for her second job, getting Fish Creek Shores, the motel she worked at during the tourist season, ready for their first guests in just a few weeks.
She was calmed down and ready for some juicy gossip when she opened the door to the salon. Chaos and crying greeted her instead of the calm and collected receptionist Margo.
"Tina!" she called out. "Tine, where are you, what's happened?"
Tina came out from the back, mascara streaming down her usually perfect face, cheeks flushed and agony written all over her body.
"Julia, oh my God, Julia. You haven't heard?"
"Heard?" Fear ran through her like a shock from the electric fences of her youth on her parent's dairy farm. The kind that hurt. Her heart stopped at Tina's words. "What, what is it?"
"It's Valerie."
"Valerie." Julia couldn't understand what Tina was saying. "Valerie? What do you mean, Valerie?"
"Valerie is dead, Julia. Your cousin is dead."
Julia stared at her best friend. Her words didn't make any sense. She didn't hear the new age jazz in the background, instead she heard the rock and roll of her youth. The smells of the salon, usually soothing and happy smells, had been replaced with the smell of bubblegum flavored lipstick. She saw her cousin as though time had gone backwards, to the last time she had seen Val, right after the Jr. Prom, at the after party at the Baileys Harbor Supper Club....both of them dressed in their sparkly prom dresses, screaming at each other. Surrounded by their friends, and standing there, white faced was their best friend, Tom, trying his best to sooth the two soul mates, and prevent a permanent rift. He had failed.
Julia sat down in the nearest chair, still holding her keys and cell phone. Tina was sniffling, the people in the back came out to the front and stood, looking at Julia. Everyone knew the story, or at least, they thought they did. Julia couldn't believe that she was never going to get to straighten out their past, never get a chance to fix the broken heart she knew her cousin and best friend for life had all because of her and her stupid decision. She'd never get to help Tom and Valerie make up and move on. She had waited too long, too long. She dropped her head into her hands, her nail bitten fingers dug into her scalp, and she moaned, rocking back and forth repeating "No,no,no,no,no,no......"
No one moved to console her, and she knew why. They all blamed her, too.
Chapter 4
Valerie's parents, sam and phyllis, were surrounded by their friends and family. They sat on the couch they had proudly purchased thirty years before, right before their only daughter was born.
Valerie was a surprise to her parents. They were older and had given up having a family of their own. Phyllis and her sister Sally had married in the same year but only Sally had one child after another every three years or so. After ten years had passed, Sally couldn't bear to tell her sister of her impending new baby and so put it off until it was obvious. Then, one afternoon, Phyllis burst into her sisters kitchen to announce that she was pregnant. Sally was more excited about her sister's pregnancy than her own and was grateful for the news so she could share hers without guilt. They had the best time of their lives, getting Phyliss's house all ready for the new baby. Spirited arguments about paint color, the advisability of used versus new baby clothes, formula or breast feeding, family bed or cradle and crib kept these sisters happy for months. Although Sally was a 4th time Mom, she deferred to her older sister's reading and repeating experts advice. She knew it didn't matter who mothers listened to because once you have the baby everything you read would fly out of their minds. She did insist on one thing, and that was theta their babies would have names all picked out before birth. She didn't want hurt feelings about middle names or who gets to name who what. Her sister probably wouldn't have another chance, so Sally talked to her husband and they made sure the names they picked weren't Sally and Phyllis's family names.
That all seemed so long ago, Sally reflected as she sat next to her sister and held her hand. The flowered couch had been broken in by both little girls. They spilled orange juice one summer afternoon. The same afternoon they had decided to add to the colors on the couch with their crayons. It was a few years later that they managed to upend the pepperoni pizza on the couch while watching a scary movie on late night television which they tried to clean up themselves. And failed. And there were a few places on the cushions that had been successfully cleaned by their teenaged daughters: lipstick and one small glass of scotch spilled in the midst of a teenaged effort at seduction, which had led to the stunning breakup of these girls destined to be best friends in addition to cousins, forever.
But no one mentioned this past history this evening. No one even thought about it. They thought about how easily something like this could happen to them.
Phyliss said,"Has anyone found Julia yet?"
Sally said, "I think she gets her hair cut Friday afternoons at Tina's. I did leave a message on her cell phone. I'll try again."
"I know where to go find her," said Tom. Eveyone turned and looked at him. No one had heard him come into the house. "There was a place the three of us always went when something bad happened," his voice thickened and he paused. "Like when we got a bad grade or something. It was something we vowed never to share with anyone. I bet Julia is there. I'll find her." He turned to leave.
"Tom," said Phyliss.
"Mmh?"
"Tom. What are you going to tell her?"
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, what are you going to tell her about Valerie?"
He looked at everyone in the room and realized he was missing something. "What should I tell her?"
Sam stood up. "I think we should talk for a moment, in the kitchen. Tom?" He walked steadily towards the kitchen without looking at Tom.
Tom entered the room just in time to see Sam wipe his eyes. "I don't want to cry in front of all those people. I know they are my friends, but I think I should be strong for Phyllis. You won't tell anyone, will you?"
"No, of course not." Tom knew better thanks to suggest any different to Sam, even though he was sure that Phyllis would welcome a show of grief from her husband. It would hold her up even better than the wall of nothing Sam was projecting. But that was the generation Sam was from, and far be it from him to say anything to anybody about how to handle the shock of the sudden death of a child.
"What do you know about Valerie's death? What have you heard?"
"I heard she died in a car accident on her way here to visit you and Phyllis."
"That's all?"
"Yes, that's all." Tom was getting creepy crawlies all over his skin as this conversation continued. What was going on?
"Did you hear why she was on her way here?"
"I guess not, I just assumed that she was visiting you and was on vacation."
"Nothing about her husband?"
"Husband?" Tom shook his head, and his collar tickled his newly shaved neck. It had been hi afternoon to have the winter beard and long hair shaved off in honor that spring was right around the corner. He missed the warmth and security a beard gave him, and he felt naked, exposed, since everyone could see his face, the face that was open and honest all the time. A liar Tom was not.
"So, you did hear more that you let on?"
Tom tried once more, although he knew his efforts would upset Sam unnecessarily. "What about her husband? Was he with her?"
"Tom, you might as well tell me what you've heard so I can nip the gossips before they can ruin more lives." Tom knew that Sam was referring to the rift between Valerie, Julia and himself, a tragedy that had been caused by the very gossips Sam was referring to. Would that night never go away?
"Ok, I heard that she was running away from her husband, that she had a restraining order against him and had filed for divorce."
"Some of that is true, but I won't take the time to tell you which is right now. What else?"
"That her car accident was no accident.'
"That part I heard, too" Sam turned away from Tom. "I think that is probaly true, but until the investigation is complete, please don't give that part of the story any extra help."
"So are you going to tell me the truth?"
"No. I'm asking you to say nothing, to listen only and to repeat only that our family is hurting and to respect our privacy. Can you do that for us, Tom?" Sam's face sagged, he staggered towards the counter, and Tom reached for him. Sam waved him away. "I'm ok, really. Just keep everything we've talked about confidential, please."
Tom nodded and he said,"I will, Sam. I will do anything."
Sam looked at Tom with his brown eyes filled with tears and agony. "Thanks, Tom. You were a good friend of our Valerie, and I know I can count on you to be our supporter, too."
He turned and walked towards the swinging door that led to the living room.
"Sam," said Tom. "Sam, just one more thing."
Sam stopped walking, but he did not turn around. "Yes?"
"Sam. Do you know who died with her in this accident? Do you know his name? And where was it? Where did the car go off the road?"
Tom's voice was getting louder. He realized all of a sudden, that he was angry. Angry that he was being lied to, again. Angry that people treated him like a big puppy instead of a man who'd lost his best friend. Angry that people thought that him being gay meant he was stupid and would fall for any story. "I'll keep your secrets, Sam, only if you trust me to tell them to me, first. Don't insult my intelligence or my commitment to my best friends, either of them. Tell me what's really going on." His hands were clenched and he slowly relaxed his shoulders. His breathing slowed and he looked at Tom.
Tom had turned to look at Sam when Sam was talking. They eyes locked and Tom could feel that Sam was the stronger of the two. Strong enough to cause Tom to look away, if he didn't grit his teeth and continue to stare at Sam. It was beginning to get ridiculous when Sam finally said, "You're right, I'm sorry. I do forget you are a man, Tom. But we can't talk, now. I have to go back with Phyllis. I don't want to alarm her nor leave her alone for long. She hasn't any idea that there is anything unusual about Val's accident and I want her in the dark for as long as possible. I can't keep this under wraps indefinitely, but long enough."
Tom looked back at Sam and saw a man who this morning had woken up in one world, and now found himself in another universe. Aged, shrunken, diminished, faded, even. "We'll talk later tonight. I'll find Julia and bring her here."
"No, not here. Bring her to her parent's house, next door and then let me know. I'll come over and meet with both of you. I have to talk to both of you, as you are probably in danger, too." He turned and walked out of the room, his words echoing in the kitchen.
Danger? They were in danger?
Chapter 5
Tom let his breath out as soon as he noticed he had been holding it.
Danger. Sam has said he was in danger. Actually, Sam said he and Julia were in danger.
Danger. What did that mean?
All of a sudden, Tom got scared. He had said he might know where Julia would have gone. But that wasn't the truth. He knew exactly where Julia was, and he knew that if he didn't get moving, he'd miss her. The agreement the three of them had made, those many years ago, was to meet at their secret spot if something, anything bad happened to any one of them. And the other part of that agreement was that whoever got there first only had to wait for 2 hours before leaving, running away as fast as possible.
Running away. Was that what Val was doing coming back here without alerting her friends, even though they were estranged? No argument could have wiped out the memory of what they had done, and the pact they had made. Why was Val coming back, and why now? And why didn't she say anything at all to anyone before coming back?
Tom was almost out the door when his way was blocked by Deputy Andersen, Marc Andersen to be exact. Tom steeled himself for the confrontation to come. He'd wondered when this would happen and as he nodded to Marc, he said, "Marc." He hoped that this would be the end to it, for now. He had to get to Julia fast.
"Tom, I'm surprised to see you here," said Marc.
"Oh?"
"After all the trouble you caused this family, I'm surprised they would even allow you into their home, much less talk to you."
Tom looked at Marc. "Don't know what you're talking about, Marc. I've got to get somewhere, so if you don't mind..."
"Actually, I came looking for you, Tom," Marc smiled and his dark brown eyes became almost bottomless black. "I wondered if you could clear something up for me."
Well?" said Tom, his hands were cold, his heart was pounding, but he was outwardly calm. Marc had always had an bullying side that could erupt at any time, and Tom was worried that this was one of those times.
"Found a piece of paper in Valerie's handwriting with your cell phone number on it in her purse at the accident scene. Any idea why?"
"We're friends, Marc. She may have wanted to call me at some point during her visit." He wanted to sit down, scream, run out of the kitchen, anything but play this game with Marc right now. She could be leaving right now, and he'd miss the chance to talk to her about this whole mess, one last time. The Three Peas: Plan, prepare, panic together...that was their joke.
"Did she?"
"Did she what?"
"Call you."
"No, she didn't call me, Marc. You can tell by looking at her phone."
"Or yours."
"Yes, or mine."
"Can I see your cell phone?"
Tom looked Marc straight in the eye, trying to gauge just how far Marc might take this harassment, or if this was another variation on the bullying theme. Right now the pressure to leave clouded his judgement and he just had to get out of there. He dug his cell phone out of his jacket pocket and thrust in in Marc's direction.
"Take a look, now, so I can go."
"No. no, I didn't mean that, really. Just asking you if you would show me your phone. You know, like if I were to ask you, for real, later."
"Yeah, sure. Whatever. Gotta go."
Tom left the room, finally, fully expecting Marc to reach over and grab his shoulder and toss him against the wall. He had done it once, for less provocation.
"Talk to you later, Tom, remember, later," the menace and promise in Marc's voice scared him even more. What the hell was going on?
Tom almost turned around, but the fear of having that image of Marc burned in his brain stopped him. He kept walking, slowly, deliberately, to his truck.
Chapter 6
Julia sat on the stump in the small clearing at Newport State Park that had been the safety hideaway for her and her two best friends all their lives. No one knew about this spot. At least, no one knew the significance of it to them. She hadn't told a soul. She hadn't written about it in her diary as a young girl, nor in her journal as she got older. She hoped they had been as careful.
The weak sunlight struggled to make her feel better. The spring birds were loud and raucous while they flitted from tree to tree, the baby lime green leaves wiggled in the slight breeze and shook each time a bird landed or took off. It was not a peaceful place by any means.
The flies, wasps, gnats and ants were also waking up. She could actually hear them bumping into each other, the grass, the leaves and the sound of a fly falling and hitting the damp soil surprised her. She'd never taken the time to pay attention to any of this.
She was dismayed at this, thinking herself to be a nature lover. But she'd never been one, not her. Tom and Valerie had been the fanatics about all sorts of sports and hiking in the state and county parks had always been their idea. She had gone along reluctantly. Now, of course, she regretted this refusal of hers. Now, there wouldn't be another chance to take a walk in the park with her best friend, cousin, and as she had learned this morning, sister.
She still couldn't believe this, and now that Valerie had died in that horrific car accident, she'd never know the truth. She began to cry again, this time not so quietly and went over that phone call from Valerie this morning, before she even had gotten to school.
It had started with a phone call on her cell phone from a long distance number she didn't recognize. She didn't answer it. Her policy had been for years to ignore calls from numbers she didn't know. "Let it go to voice mail," she'd laugh. "If it's important, they'll leave a message." This system worked for her over the years, so it was automatic for her to just hit the ignore button on her cell phone.
And there was a message alert just a moment after the call. Now she was intrigued. And called her voice mail to see if she'd won the lottery or some other fabulous good news was awaiting her.
Instead, she heard the voice of her best friend and cousin, Valerie, whom she hadn't spoken to in over 14 years. Not since that fateful afternoon when the truth was revealed and she told her to never speak to her again, and to leave the county and her alone forever.
"Julia? Julia are you there? It's me, Valerie. I have to talk to you, it's a matter of life and death, or rather it's a matter of life OR death. Yours, mine and Tom's. Call me NOW!"
But. She didn't. She slipped back into the past, remembering all of the Valerie Dramas during middle school and high school. Out of the blue, Valerie had just expected her to do what she had always done. Jump and do what she was told. She may have been the oldest, but she wasn't the leader and even today, remembering the past couple of days, the news of her cousins mysterious accident, the voice mail, she felt that niggling worry, that she'd regret not doing what she was told.
She did. She regretted not calling. She actually regretted standing up for herself. Only that's not what it turned out she was doing. She was a fool, once again. And now, maybe her inaction contributed to Val's death.
Tom. Where ever could he be? Julia found herself on the trail walking towards the parking lot that Tom would have to go to in order to get to their rendezvous point the fastest. She couldn't sit still. But she'd have to. So she returned to the stump, and resumed digging. It was over a foot down, she remembered. Tom had insisted that they have an emergency cache of cash in case a scenario like this occurred. Neither one of the girls thought this was necessary and they stopped themselves from giggling by not looking at each other while they wrapped the metal box in a few plastic bags, then an old pet blanket and another plastic bag.
"Isn't this a little over kill Tom?" Julia prodded Tom. "Come on, really, I'd rather we use this money for our senior trip than for an escape plan we'll never need."
"Yeah, this is over the top, even for you, Tommy boy," Valerie whined.
Tom grunted, "Hand me the box and shut up."
"No one knows anything, Tom. Those stupid jocks were just messing with us," Valerie was still whining. This was beginning to get under Julia's nerves. She noticed her skin crawling, and wondered what the heck was going on.
Tom said, "Valerie, could you stop whining a moment and think. We know what they did, when they did it and who they are. No one else knows. If we tell, they go to prison, stupid, not jail, and that's scary. Involuntary murder at the least, negligent homicide maybe. And pay attention to this, we were there. We suspected something was up and we did nothing. We are as bad as they are."
The girls had stopped breathing. This was something neither one of them had wanted said out loud, since it was harder to avoid and deny if these truths weren't said, out loud.
"Damnitalltohell, Tom," Valerie spat out. Sure wish you were more subtle. Couldn't you take a hint? I've been telling you to drop it so we can move on with our lives and now, you've just ruined everything."
Tom stood up. He reached for the shovel and began slowly scrapping the soil back into the hole, covering up their insurance policy. He didn't say anything, but his breathing was fast, faster than the exertion warranted. He didn't stop until all the dirt was returned to the hole, the direst was stomped on and then plant refuse and rubbish scattered over the whole spot. He then stopped. Shovel in his right hand, hat in his left. Head down.
He took a deep breath and looked, first at Valerie, and then Julia.
"Listen, we've got to face the facts, decide what to do and what our story is and then stick to it. No wiggle room here."
"Story?" Julia wanted to scream but couldn't. Instead the words scratched their way out of her throat. "Story? Our story is what and who we saw and what we did and didn't do. What do we have to lie about?"
"Because we failed our friend Chet and now he is dead. We'll end up in as much trouble as those baseball heros will."
"I don't care," said Julia.
"Well. I do," said Tom. "I have a career to think of."
"So do I," said Valerie. "I am not sacrificing my life just to do the right thing."
She could hear these words, as though she were living them all over again. She'd had dreams about that night, the night Chet died. Nightmares, more like it. She was sweating, just like she had that damp freezing spring night. Even now she couldn't believe her best friends had made these decisions, the decisions to cover up the crime of murder by those stupid baseball heros, and thusly, they covered up their own complicity in the act. She went along with them, knowing that she wasn't strong enough to do the right thing, then. Now, it seemed that doing the right thing, even now, wouldn't matter. It wouldn't save her. Oh, she wished she had answered her phone when Val had called.
She heard a car door slam. Was it Hans, or Tom? She hadn't heard the car come down the park road, or she would know. She stood at the end of the path, looking through the deepening dusk. It looked like Hans...he was wearing his cam jacket. Then she saw him turn his head to talk to someone following him. She hoped it was Tom. Otherwise, this could mean she'd made a serious, perhaps deadly, mistake.
Chapter 7
Sam and Phyllis sat at their wooden kitchen table, holding hands.
The table had marks from the kid's pumpkin carving contest that one year when they all wanted to be ghosts and Phyllis had been the one to secretly suggest this to each one. There had been some tears and a few arguments, but in the end, she had saved herself a month at least of sewing costumes. Some of the marks from the pumpkin contest were deeper than necessary; more like an extension of the family feud.
Under their hands was a burn mark from when Sam had forgotten to use a hot pad when he picked up the iron skillet, forgetting that she had just pulled it out of the oven. He hadn't dropped it but made it to the table, where it sat long enough to leave a dark brown ring. The scars from that absence of paying attention had faded, but she could run her fingers over his hand and find them, smoother skin than the rest of his rough, work hardened palm.
The silence was too heavy for her. As long as the phone rang, or people came over, she could handle the tragedy. Or she could focus on the distractions. The panic filled her throat, threatening to choke her to death and she felt faint. Dying would be a good thing, she thought, as she slid from her chair.
Sam caught her shoulders, squeezed them, called her name, "Phyl, Phyl, breath for me, please. Phyl!"
She slumped even further. She heard him, and vaguely felt a small twinge of sadness for leaving him at a time like this, but what was the point of going on. She could never live through this day.
"Goddamnitalltohell! Phyllis, damnit, breathe," and he pinched her arm, right above her elbow.
"Shit, what are you doing to me? That'll leave a mark!"
"I thought about slapping you, but that would've left an even larger, more obvious mark. Then everyone could confirm what you've hinted at all these years, that I beat you."
His anger sharpened her focus, and she looked at him in alarm. "What do you mean?"
"You know."
"I know?"
"Of course. All these years your snide remarks made in soto voce when we were at church or at school or at the store, you think no one was listening? You knew they were, they were your audience."
"This is an interesting time to bring this old argument up. Our daughter Valerie is dead and you accuse me?"
"Well, you're right, it's a bad time. It always was a bad time to talk about this."
"Timing is everything," she smiled.
The phone rang, and she relaxed. She knew where Sam was really going with this direction of conversation and a phone call or visitor would hopefully save her from the coming confrontation.
Sam hung up the phone, but didn't turn around. "It was him," he said. His voice sounded far away, more distant than she had ever heard him. Not this, not now. She repeated this over and over, like it was magical potion or spell that would change the past and save her from her bad decisions.
He didn't look at her, but sat down at the square wooden table, folded his hands in prayer, closed his eyes. And wept.
This was so unexpected that Phyllis jumped up, ran over to him and put her arms around him, squeezing him firmly. "Oh sweetie, it's nothing. He is nothing. He means nothing to me, and Valerie never knew, never. He is trying to hurt us, one more time."
His reaction to being touched by her was sudden and swift. She could feel the cold anger throw her off him, like an electric shock. He shook her hand off his shoulder, and then said, "He is trying to hurt us? He is? He asked for you, that's all. He said nothing to me. Asking for you is hurting me, you see. And if you hadn't betrayed your best friend, or me, then this wouldn't be a part of our life right now."
There was nothing more to say. Phyllis thought of ways to move on from this. It was true, she'd done all those things, 35 years years ago. She was a different girl, then, but now, she had made a clean break from her sordid past How could she have done that, she asked herself one more time. There were never answers that satisfied her, much less her husband. There were no answers that would erase the pain of those days.
She stood up and walked over the fridge. Opening the door, she said," Its time I made you a sandwich. Turkey or ham?"
No answer. "Turkey it is, then. Heart healthy and all. Bet a cold beer to go with it will balance that out."
"Chips, too, please."
"Of course, Sam. I know how you like your sandwiches."
"True, you do know how I like my sandwiches. At least you do that for me."
She wanted to lash back at him, but she knew that she deserved his sarcasm. She continued to slice the freshly baked homemade wheat bread for his turkey sandwich. Her homemade pickles had always been a favorite of Sam's and he liked them thinly sliced, so the pickle flavor was in each and every bite. In fact, almost everything on his sandwich was grown or baked or cooked by her. Even the fresh potato chips, oven baked with just a little bit of olive oil, sea salt and vinegar, making them very healthy and just as addicting as the store bought. The tomato was from the store; it was too early in the spring for tomatoes, although she'd already gotten her seedlings started.
She reach for the plate in the cupboard above her, getting the plate she had decorated for him for their 30th wedding anniversary at the local paint your own pottery store. That was a good day, she thought. They had gone together, deciding on the items they would decorate for each other. Her heart twanged a little bit. That was a very, very good day for them.
Putting the plate down, she handed him a clean, faded napkin, which she had sewn years ago. Then she opened the refrigerator door, pulled out a lienenkugel beer, a spring bah. In the freezer was his pottery beer mug, made by a local potter, which was always in the
