Another Summer (22 page)

Deanna bit her lower lip when it started quivering again, but she couldn’t stop the tears. “He dumped me,” she said, barely above a whisper.

Maria wished she could act more surprised. She’d seen Jake out with other girls for months and knew it was only a matter of time before he broke it off with Deanna. “You’re better off without him.”

“I love him.”

“He’s a bastard,” Karen said. “You can do better.”

“I don’t want to do better,” Deanna wailed. “Jake’s the only guy I’ve ever wanted.”

Maria and Karen exchanged glances. If they told her about Jake, they’d risk hurting her even more. “What did he say when he broke up with you?” Maria asked.

“I can’t tell you.” She covered her face with her hands.

Maria got up to find a tissue and spotted the box on the floor. She bent to retrieve it and saw a candy bar sticking out from under the bed. Her heart sank. Deanna was going to be huge if she didn’t stop eating. She reached for the candy and saw something behind it. Bending lower she saw an enormous stash of cookies and candy and chips. “What is this?”

“What?” Karen asked.

“All this food.”

Karen came around the bed to look. “Shit–” She gave Deanna a disgusted look. “I’m trashin’ this stuff. You’re goin’ on a diet right now.”

Maria stood and stared at Deanna. “This isn’t new. It’s what you’ve been taking from the kitchen since we got here.” Why would she hide food and not eat it? And why would she put up with the abuse from Karen about how much she was eating when she obviously wasn’t?

“Is that true?” Karen asked.

“What I do and what I eat or don’t eat is none of your business.” She snatched the Butterfinger candy bar Maria was holding, tore it open, and took a bite that filled half her mouth. “Satisfied?”

How could Deanna
not
be eating and still gain weight? And then it all made sense. “Oh my God,” Maria breathed.

Karen turned on her. “What?”

Deanna tossed what was left of the Butterfinger on the nightstand. “Go ahead–tell her,” she sobbed. “Tell the whole friggin’ world for all I care.”

“Tell me
what?”
Karen insisted, her voice raised, forgetting they were trying not to wake Cheryl.

Hoping that she’d somehow gotten it wrong, Maria made it a question instead of a statement. “You’re pregnant?”

“Give the girl a prize.” Tears formed twin streams from her eyes to her chin.

Stunned, Karen echoed, “Oh my God.”

“Jake?” Maria asked already knowing the answer.

Deanna nodded.

“I
hate
that bastard,” Karen said. “I hope that bitch Sally Ryker gives him a disease.”

Deanna fixed Karen with a stare. “Jake is seeing Sally?”

If there had been even a faint hope, Maria would have protected her, but it was time Deanna faced the truth. “He’s been taking her to parties for months now. And when she’s not available, he finds someone who is.”

“I was available.” She said it so softly Maria had to strain to hear.

“Not anymore,” Karen said. “The only thing you’re gonna be givin’ him from now on is a bill for child support.”

“He says it isn’t his.”

“Like you been sleepin’ around behind his back. There’s no way you would–”

“But I did,” she whispered. “Once. It was after we had this big fight where he said I was lucky he let me fuck him once in a while because I was so butt ugly there wasn’t no one else who would.”

Maria felt sick. “Who was it?”

Deanna took a long time to answer. “I don’t know. It was at a party. I was drunk. All I remember is going into the bedroom with some guy.”

Karen sat on the bed next to Deanna. “What makes you think it was him and not Jake who got you pregnant?”

“All I know is that I skipped my period the next month.”

“Could
it have been Jake?” Karen asked.

“Yes.”

“Then it probably was. Although you’d probably be better off if it wasn’t. If he’s not the father, you and the baby won’t be tied to that two-timing son of a bitch.”

Maria sat on the opposite side of the bed. “Have you seen a doctor?”

She shook her head. “I was going to make an appointment at the clinic, but then chickened out.”

It was Karen’s turn. “How far along are you?”

“Five months.”

Maria and Karen exchanged glances.

“I thought about an abortion, but I couldn’t do it. I kept thinking what if my mom had done that to me?”

Instead of abandoning her daughter before she was born, Deanna’s mother had abandoned her when she was seven years old, walking out on her and the man she’d been living with to go on tour with a soundman for the Grateful Dead.

“Okay, so you’ve decided to have the baby,” Maria said. It was useless to talk about what she could have or should have done. It was the now, and the future, they had to deal with. “First thing we have to do is get you to a doctor.”

“Yeah,” Karen said. “If you’re going to have it, you sure don’t want it to be sick.”

A fresh wave of tears spilled from Deanna’s eyes. “What if Bill and Amy find out?”

Maria blinked in surprise. Bill and Amy Hutchins were Deanna’s foster parents. They were hard-assed about a lot of stuff but basically good people–so good they let Deanna stay with them after her eighteenth birthday when the state stopped paying them. “How long did you think you could keep them from finding out?”

“I don’t know. I can’t face telling them.” She hugged herself, grabbing her elbows and pulling them close as if she could squeeze until she disappeared. “What if they make me move out? Where will I go?”

“Couldn’t you get welfare to help you out for a couple of years so you could finish school?” Karen asked. Before Deanna could answer, she added, “I’d ask my mom if you could stay with us, but there’s no way my dad would let you. He told me if I ever got pregnant when I was still at home, he was buyin’ me a one-way ticket to Florida.”

“You could stay with us,” Maria said. “You’d have to sleep with me and Alma, but at least you wouldn’t be out on the streets.”

“What would your mother say?” Deanna asked, the unexpected offer of help momentarily stemming her tears.

For the first time Maria was able to smile. “Once she finds out you’re not eating like we all thought you were eating, she won’t mind feeding you.”

“What are we gonna tell Cheryl?” Karen asked.

“Please don’t tell her,” Deanna said. “She’ll make me go back, and I love it here. I don’t want to go home until we have to.”

“What’re we gonna do about getting you to a doctor if we don’t tell her?” Karen asked.

After several seconds, they both looked at Maria expectantly. “What?”

“You’re good at this kind of thing,” Karen said. “Think of something.”

As much as she didn’t want to admit it, she was better at coming up with answers than they were. Too bad they were always other people’s questions and not her own. “I’ll think about it.”

“How was your date?” Deanna asked shyly.

How could she tell them what she’d seen and heard that night, the food she’d eaten, the people she’d met, the longings that now filled her mind and heart?

She couldn’t.

“It wasn’t anything special,” she said finally.

  M
ARIA TRIED TO GATHER HER COURAGE
on her way to work with Paul Tuesday morning. Given a choice, she would have walked the fifteen miles to the free clinic in Santa Cruz, but there was no way Deanna could make it. A taxi was out of the question. Even with their best lie they’d never convince Cheryl they weren’t trying to hide something. Besides, Maria only had the extra money she had earned working overtime to pay for the appointment and whatever medicines Deanna might need. Taxis weren’t an option.

“Why so quiet?” Paul asked after they’d gone several miles in silence.

She took a deep breath. “I need a favor.”

“Uh-oh.”

“It’s a big favor, and it’s serious, and I don’t need any crap from you about it.”

“Lay it on me.”

“My friend needs a ride into town on Thursday.”

Paul looked at her. “That’s it?”

“You can’t tell anyone where you take her, and you have to take me and another friend, too.” She waited. “And we have to ask Andrew to give us a couple of hours off.”

“Okay.”

Again she waited. When he didn’t say anything more, she said, “You don’t want to know where we’re going?”

“I figure you’ll tell me when you’re ready. And if you don’t, then it’s none of my business.”

She really didn’t want to like him any more than she already did, but he kept doing things like this and chipping away at her resolve. “We’re going to have to lie to Andrew and Cheryl. Well, maybe not lie, but not tell the whole truth.” After several seconds she added, “You don’t have to do the lying, I’ll take care of that. But you do have to go along with what I say.” She looked at him. “Can you do that?”

“What are you going to say?”

“That you’re taking us shopping to buy something for Cheryl to thank her for bringing us here.”

“Isn’t she going to wonder what’s going on when you come home empty-handed?”

“We’re not. I figured you and I can pick something up while Karen and Deanna are at the clinic.”

“Have you thought about what you’re going to say when Andrew asks why we’re taking time off to go on Thursday instead of Sunday or Monday when we’d have the whole day off?”

“It can’t be helped. The clinic is closed Mondays.”

“I take it that means you don’t have an answer?”

“Not yet. But I will.”

“Why don’t I tell him I have to take care of a mix-up with my schedule for next semester and that you and your friends are going with me to look at the campus? Everyone knows UC Santa Cruz isn’t like anyplace else, so it won’t seem strange that you and your friends want to check it out.”

She stared at him. “You’d do that?”

“I figure you wouldn’t ask if it weren’t important.”

She owed him an explanation, especially for involving him in a lie. “My friend is pregnant.”

He let out a long breath. “I see.”

“Five months, and she hasn’t seen a doctor.”

“I take it she hasn’t told her folks.”

“She doesn’t have any real parents. Right now she’s living with the people who have been her foster parents since eighth grade and she’s afraid they’re going to throw her out when she tells them she’s pregnant. They’re not getting paid to keep her anymore because she’s going to turn nineteen before she graduates high school. There’s no reason they’d go out of their way for her now.” She didn’t expect him to understand, it wasn’t the kind of thing that happened to the people he knew.

“There’s one thing you haven’t thought of. Andrew and Cheryl are going to ask you about the campus.”

“I can fake it. I’ve been to Berkeley. Lots of times.” She’d only been there twice, once on a field trip with her advanced English class and once because she wanted to see the buildings she’d missed the first time. A stupid subterfuge, but a matter of pride.

“They’re nothing alike.”

“So you can tell me what it’s like.”

“It’s not the same. Why don’t I just take you there after we get off work tonight? You can call Cheryl and tell her we’re going for hamburgers.”

It sounded too much like a date. Still, what choice did she have? “When should I tell her I’ll be back?”

“Make it seven. That will give us plenty of time.” He thought a minute. “Better make it eight. We’ll have to stop someplace to eat or she’ll wonder why you’re hungry when you get home.”

P
AUL WAS RIGHT.
UC S
ANTA CRUZ WAS
nothing like Berkeley. Maria felt comfortable in this atmosphere, not like an outsider pretending she had a right to be there. At Berkeley she’d been in awe of everything from the students to the enormous classrooms. No one was in a rush here. Some students even smiled, and a couple greeted her as if she belonged.

The libraries took her breath away and made her hands and mind itch to touch and feel and learn. She wasn’t intimidated by the classrooms and could easily imagine herself sliding into a seat and waiting for a lecture to begin. She loved the quiet of the forest and the spectacular views of the ocean and the way the buildings looked as if they blended into their surroundings.

She’d fought coming, and she fought leaving, asking to see the dorms and cafeteria and even the administration buildings. They walked up hills and through the forest where they were rained on by moisture-laden pines. At one point she stopped under a redwood tree too tall for her to see to the top, closed her eyes, and stood perfectly still.

“Listen,” she told Paul, her voice filled with wonder.

“That’s a woodpecker,” he said.

“No–listen to the quiet.” Several moments passed before she added, “No cars, no radios, no people. I’ve never heard anything so beautiful.”

He leaned back against the rough, fragrant tree trunk and studied her. “You belong here, you know.”

“Yeah, right. Like that’s something you would know about me.”

“So what are you saying, that you think you’re going to do better at Berkeley?”

It took a second for her to figure out what he was talking about. Because she’d told him she’d visited Berkeley, he thought she was planning to go to school there when she finally got around to going. She would have laughed but was afraid she might cry. He was the only person she knew who could make such a dumb mistake.

“We should get going.” She started up the path before he had a chance to answer.

“It really is beautiful here,” she told Paul, as they drove down the hill away from the campus. “I wish it were possible.” She didn’t realize she’d said the second sentence out loud until he responded.

“What do you mean?”

“I could never afford to go to a place like this.”

“After what happened last time I brought it up, I’m almost afraid to say this. I started to tell you that first day that you don’t need to afford it. This is part of the California system. All you need are decent grades and it’s free–as long as your family income is low enough.”

“Trust me, that’s not a problem. But it doesn’t matter. Even if you did know what you were talking about, I still couldn’t come here.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t work for play money the way you do. My family needs what I make. I have to get my brother and sisters through school before it’s my turn. And that’s at least twelve years away.”

“Why can’t you work and go to school? Isn’t that what you’re doing now?”

He really had no idea what her life was like or how much effort she had put in to get where she was. And she would never tell him. Pride was a foolish road, but she’d been on it so long she didn’t know how to get off. “You ask a lot of questions that are none of your business.”

“How am I supposed to know where you draw the line?” he snapped. He turned into a residential section of the city and drove past houses with manicured lawns and expensive cars in the driveways. Neither of them said anything until the silence became a third passenger that took up more space than the two of them together.

Maria was the first to give in. “You don’t have to stop anywhere for us to eat. I’m not hungry.”

“What if I am?”

“Then stop. I can wait in the car.”

He gave her a dirty look. “You know you can be a real pain in the ass.”

“So I’ve heard.”

“Oh, so it’s not just me who thinks so.”

“Get in line.” She was confused and frustrated and angry. Three weeks ago she’d known exactly where she was headed and why. Her life might not have been what she would have chosen, but at least it had direction. Now she had dreams, wishes, desires–none of them practical or even remotely possible. “Okay, I’ll have a hamburger with you. Just don’t make a big thing out of it.”

“Wow. What a favor.”

“I’ll make you a deal.” She was tired of fighting him, tired of fighting her feelings for him.

“I can hardly wait.”

“I won’t give you a hard time … if you don’t make me.”

He actually laughed. “I can live with that.”

He took her to Carpos in Soquel and talked her into ordering a loganberry milk shake to go with her hamburger and fries.

“Well?” he asked after her first taste, a smug smile in place.

She couldn’t fake it. “This is sooo good.”

“Wait till you try the fries.”

She did. “Not as good as the milk shake, but close.”

“I probably shouldn’t tell you this–”

“But you’re going to anyway.”

“Do you want to hear it or not?”

“How can I know until you tell me?”

“I’ll take that as a yes.” He popped a fry in his mouth. “I overheard Alfonso talking about you to Andrew this morning.”

Alfonso was the toughest boss she’d ever had. She put her hamburger down to listen. “What did he say?”

“That you were a natural, and Andrew should do whatever it took to keep you.” Until then high praise from Alfonso had been a rare grunt of approval as he walked by a table where she was working. “He really said that?” “He said other stuff, too, but I don’t want you getting a big head.”

“Like what?”

“Like how you could spot a flat that was planted wrong before it started showing signs of stress.”

“That’s easy.”

“And how you knew it was time to water by the change in the leaves.”

“That’s easy, too.”

“It’s not easy for me.”

She shrugged. “All you have to do is look. The leaves change color when they start to dry out.”

He smiled. “You and Andrew are the only ones who see it.”

“You’re kidding.” But she could see that he wasn’t. “It’s so obvious.”

“Every time he leaves for more than a week, the plants suffer because there’s no one left who can read them the way he does. Too much or too little water, and it can set them back months. Instead of a plant setting its first bloom a year out of the flask, it could take two.” He stopped to take a bite of hamburger. “Don’t be surprised if Andrew tries to talk you into moving down here when you graduate.”

“I can’t,” she said automatically. “There’s no way I could live here when my family is in Oakland.”

“You want me to tell him?”

“Then he would know you told me.”

“I’d find a way that he wouldn’t have to know.” Finished with his own fries, he reached over to take one of hers.

“Are you going to keep working when school starts?”

“I’ll cut back to a couple of days a week–until Andrew tells me he doesn’t need me anymore.”

“You don’t need the money. Why bother?”

“He bailed me out of trouble a couple of years ago. I figure I owe him.”

“What kind of trouble?” The question made him uncomfortable. At first she thought he wasn’t going to answer.

Finally, reluctantly, he said, “My mom had moved down here to be with Peter, and I had to come with her because my dad had moved into a studio apartment. I was pissed because I had to change schools my senior year and stole some stuff from a grocery store thinking she would send me back if I got in trouble. Andrew was there when it happened. The owner was a friend of his and wanted to make an example out of me because he’d been losing so much stuff to shoplifters. Andrew talked him into dropping the charges if I agreed to come to work for him.”

Second chances didn’t come so easily in her neighborhood. “You were lucky.”

“I didn’t think so at the time. My dad threw a fit. He said my mom was too busy with Peter to pay any attention to me and that I was going to wind up in jail. He wanted to ship me off to boarding school. My mom talked him into giving me another chance. I lost my car, my freedom, and my girlfriend that summer.”

“How old were you?”

“Almost eighteen.”

“What did you miss the most?”

He grinned. “No contest, the car. It was a midnight blue 1985 Mustang. Some guy in San Jose bought it and totaled it three days later. It still makes me sick thinking about it.”

“I love old Mustangs.”

“What else do you love?” He took another fry.

She thought about it. “Spring days, long walks on the beach, curling up with a good book, and drinking champagne in front of a roaring fire.”

The smile he gave her started at the corner of his mouth and ended with a knowing wink. “Got those single ads down pat, I see.”

She really liked that he was quick and funny and didn’t mind being teased. “I love the way rain makes everything look better than it really is and, I’ll deny it if you tell Cheryl, I’m beginning to love old movies. I
like
chocolate milk, not the kind you make yourself, but the thick kind that comes in a carton. And popcorn and Junior Mints eaten together.”

“How do you do that?”

“Take a handful of popcorn and put it in your mouth then pop in a Junior Mint.” When he made a face, she added, “Don’t knock it till you’ve tried it.”

“What else?”

“Long skirts and boots. Stephen King and Harry Potter and Nora Roberts. Christmas and my birthday.” She saw his hand moving toward her plate and picked up a fry and handed it to him. “What about you?”

“I’m partial to fog. Not the kind we get around here in the summer, but the valley fog where I grew up in Woodland. Sometimes it’s so thick you can’t see the white line in the middle of the road. I don’t have a favorite candy–I’ll eat just about anything except the M&Ms with the crispy stuff in the middle.”

“Holidays?”