Sarah's Legacy (10 page)

“I didn't. But Directory Assistance did. Anyway, a bunch of us are going to the pool. Wanna come?”

“I don't think I can,” I said glumly. The thought of a nice cool swim was sure appealing after spending the
morning in a hot, dusty room. “I'm supposed to be helping my mom.”

“Well,
ask
your mom anyway. Look sad and tell her everyone else is going. That always works for me.”

“I'll ask,” I promised, knowing I'd never pull off that kind of performance. Mom would see right through it and she'd never let me go then.

“Okay, do your best. You know where the pool is?”

“Yeah. I pass it on the way to school.”

“Oh, you mean the one by the old rec centre. That one's not open yet. This is an indoor pool.” She gave me quick directions. “Meet us there at three if you can get away.”

“I'll try.” I hung up the phone without much hope that Mom would let me go.

When I went back to the kitchen, Mom and Stan were cleaning up from lunch. I told her about the invitation and waited for her to remind me that we had a lot of work ahead.

“A swim sounds grand,” Stan spoke up before she could say anything. “And isn't that great, how she's made some friends already, Maggie? Must make it a lot easier, being in a new place and all.”

Well, after that it would have been pretty near impossible for Mom to say no. She hesitated only a second before telling me to go ahead.

“And have fun!” Stan added. Of course he was nodding
vigorously as he spoke, but it didn't seem quite so annoying this time.

I could hardly believe my good fortune. Escaping from the drudgery to go swimming! I dashed up the stairs to get ready, but as I reached my room I remembered something. The bathing suit I had was last year's, and it was faded and kind of tight. To be perfectly honest, it hadn't been what you could call stunning when it was new. Now it looked like something you'd mop the floor with. It just plain wasn't fit to wear.

I swallowed hard, trying to think of what to do. There was no way I was going to be seen in that suit, especially with a bunch of kids I hardly knew. I slowly made my way back to the kitchen.

“Uh, I've decided to stay home and help after all,” I said, trying to look as if sorting through dusty boxes suddenly appealed to me much more than swimming. Mom and Stan looked at me in astonishment.

“That's awfully responsible of you,” Stan praised me with more hearty head bobbing. “But a girl your age should be out having a good time with her friends. We can manage just fine without you.”

Mom's reaction was a little different. She looked at me with narrowed eyes and her mouth went into a hard line. “What's going on, Sarah?” she asked with a hint of anger in her voice. I couldn't understand it.

“Nothing.”

Without another word, Mom took hold of the back of my elbow and led me down the hall and around the corner. Then she whirled around to face me. “I know exactly what you're up to.”

I stared at her in confusion while Stoolie told us to knock it off.

“You don't want to go because that would leave Stan and me alone here,” she accused hotly.

“That's not true,” I protested, feeling tears forming in my eyes. Anger swelled up in me at the accusation, especially after I'd been so careful to be nice to Stan.

“Oh, isn't it? Then why the sudden change of heart?”

“My bathing suit is gross, that's why. I can't go swimming without something decent to wear.”

Mom got this odd look on her face — kind of a mixture of embarrassment and horror — as she realized how unfair she'd been. Within seconds, her expression crumbled and I thought she was about to cry.

“Oh, Sarah, honey, I'm so sorry.” She reached out and pulled me into her arms. After a long hug, during which she seemed to compose herself, she told me to wait there for a minute. She hurried back to the kitchen, where I could hear a hushed conversation taking place. Then she came and got me.

“We'll take you to get a new suit right now,” Mom told me, smiling. “Come on, you still have time to meet your friends at the pool.”

The three of us piled into Stan's car, and five minutes later we were at the mall. I found a bathing suit quickly. It was one piece, black with a wide, yellow, V-shaped section going down the centre of the front. Mom didn't even say anything about the price, which was more than we'd ever spent for something like that. She just nodded and told me to go try it on.

Stan had disappeared while I was in the fitting room, and when he came back he had a big shopping bag with him.

“She'll need a bathing cap, too,” he told Mom. “Pool regulations.”

We found a black cap, paid for the two items, and headed back. As soon as we got home I ran up the stairs to change. I discovered what Stan had bought when I came back downstairs.

“Uh, Sarah, this is for you,” he said, looking kind of shy and embarrassed. As he spoke, he pulled a huge, fluffy beach towel from the bag and passed it to me. It was brilliant blue with bright yellow ducks on it — a mother and four babies.

“It's beautiful. Thank you so much.” My throat was tight all of a sudden, and the words came out kind of funny and flat. I hoped Stan didn't think it was because I was forcing myself to say thank you, the way you do when you get a boring present, like flannel pyjamas or something.

“Aw, it's nothing. You just have a good time.”

He drove me to the pool then, which was probably a fifteen- or twenty-minute walk from our house. When we got there he made me recite the route I'd need to take to get back home.

As I walked into the big building that housed the pool, a gym, and a rec centre, I couldn't help but admit that Stan was a really nice guy. There he was, spending his Sunday helping us when he probably had a lot of better things to do. He'd brought lunch, too, which was really thoughtful. But it was the towel that clinched it. I don't think my view of him was improving because he'd bought me a towel. I think it was because he'd
thought of it
in the first place.

That makes what happened next a whole lot worse.

There was already a bunch of kids in the pool and I stood there for a moment trying to locate Jamie among the swimmers. By the time I saw her, with Ashley and a couple of other girls, on the far side of the pool, she'd noticed me too.

“Come on in,” she hollered and waved.

I stepped up to the side, but before I could jump in the lifeguard on duty hurried over to me.

“You can't go in without a bathing cap.”

Darn! I'd had the bathing cap with the towel I was planning to bring before Stan gave me the new one. I must have left it at home when I tossed the old towel on the kitchen table. Swimming would be half over by the time I went back for it but there was no choice.

“I forgot my cap at home,” I yelled to Jamie. “I'll have to go back and get it.”

“What?”

“I said I have to go home,” I yelled louder, realizing that with her bathing cap on she couldn't hear me over the noise of the other swimmers.

She shook her head to let me know she still couldn't hear me, then swam to the end of the pool and climbed out. A couple of the other girls, including Ashley, came along with her.

I started to explain, but before I got very far, one of the girls interrupted to point out that the tag was still on my bathing suit. Jamie giggled and yanked it free while I blushed.

“I had to go to the mall for a new suit,” I said, trying to join the laughter, “and I was in such a hurry I must have forgotten to take it off.”

“I thought your mom didn't have a car.”

“She doesn't. Stan, uh, a friend of hers, was at our place and drove us over.”

“Oooooh. A
boyfriend
.”

“That must be the guy I saw with you and your mom at the show,” piped up a girl I didn't even know.

“Wow, your mom sure works
fast
. You guys just got here.”

“He's
not
her boyfriend,” I protested to the clamour of voices and giggles.

“Oh,
sure
he's not.”

“He's
not!
” I insisted angrily. They were acting like my mom was trashy or something. My denial was met with rolled eyes and more snide remarks. One of them made slurpy kissing sounds. I felt like hitting her.

“I'll have you know that my mom wouldn't go out with Stan if he was the last guy on earth,” I yelled angrily. “He's like, a total geek. My mom has better taste than that.”

For a few seconds I thought I'd shut them up. The laughter stopped suddenly and there were no more comments. Then I became aware that a few of them were darting uncomfortable glances behind me.

I turned to see what they were looking at, and there, to my horror, stood Stan, holding my bathing cap in his hand.

“I … thought you'd be needing this, Sarah,” he said. His voice was missing its usual booming exuberance. “You forgot it in the kitchen.”

I could see by the look on his face that he'd heard what I'd just said. This awful feeling hit me hard in the stomach, like the kind you get when you've just been caught doing something really horrible and you know there's not the slightest chance you can worm your way out of it.

I wished I could take back the mean remark, but it was too late. Stan's eyes were really hurt but he forced a smile as he passed me the cap.

“Enjoy your swim,” he said quietly. Then he turned and left, while I stood there holding the cap and feeling wretched.

The worst thing was that I hadn't meant what I'd said at all. Stan had been nothing but kind and helpful to us since we first got here, and I knew perfectly well that my mom was starting to like him a lot. I couldn't figure out why I'd made the cruel comment that he'd heard. It had just come out.

Swimming was the last thing on my mind at that point, but the only other option was going home and facing Stan and Mom. That was out of the question! I wondered what I was in for later and what Mom would have to say about the whole thing. It wasn't going to be good, but then I knew that I deserved whatever I got.

The whole time I was in the pool, all I could think about was Stan's hurt face and what Mom's reaction was going to be. I had the worst possible time ever. The two hours went by unbelievably slowly as I tortured myself with thoughts of what I'd done, but then, oddly enough, when it was over, the time seemed to have flown by.

I dried myself off on the towel Stan had bought, feeling even worse, and made my way home in a state of pure dread.

As I rounded the corner to the house, I could see that Stan's car was no longer in the driveway. At least I didn't have to face him right away.

Mom was in the kitchen, setting the table for us to eat. She'd laid out leftovers from the great lunch Stan had brought — another reminder to add to my guilt.

“Hi, sweetie,” she said cheerfully when she saw me. “I imagine you're hungry as a bear after your big swim. Did you have a good time?”

I knew immediately that he hadn't told her! It hadn't even occurred to me that he might not, and I could hardly believe my good fortune.

“Sarah? Is something wrong?”

“No,” I said quickly, “I'm just tired.” It was true, too. The enormous relief left me with a sudden exhausted feeling, as though my whole self had sagged inward.

“Tired! At your age!” She laughed. “Well, come and eat. That might help your failing strength pick back up.”

The food that had been so delicious at lunchtime tasted like sawdust to me then, but I forced enough down to keep Mom from getting suspicious. Afterward, I did the dishes and mopped the kitchen floor. Both tasks were finished by six o'clock and the whole evening stretched out before me with nothing to occupy me but my guilt.

Mom said she couldn't face doing any more work in the servants' quarters that night and asked if I'd like to get a movie. I told her I didn't really feel like it, not wanting to be around her at the moment, as if avoiding her would help me forget what I'd done.

Instead, I went to my room and tried to concentrate on Aunt Sarah's diary. To my surprise, it worked.

April 12

What a wonderful day this turned out to be, in spite of early indications to the contrary. The twins, Eliza and Burgess Fennel, had invited me to a card party, an event I normally detest. Not that I mind playing hearts, which in itself is a pleasant enough pastime. No indeed, but what passes for wit in the accompanying conversation wears thin very quickly.

Mother insisted that I must go, though I tried to beg a sick headache. I might have managed the excuse if I'd thought of it earlier in the day, but alas, it was nearly time to leave when Mother reminded me of the event.

“You spend too much time in solitude,” she said brusquely, “and not enough with people of your own age. Now, get dressed. Your father is sending the carriage around directly.”

It was useless to protest. I put on my brown dress with the gold collar and went with some reluctance.

The other parties had already arrived and I waited in the hallway for what seemed ages before Eliza came to take me to the others.

“Mr. Anderson King is here,” she whispered as we walked toward the parlour, where tables had been arranged for the games. The very mention of his name made my heart quicken, though I
said nothing. How I wished I'd worn my blue dress, which is ever so much nicer than the brown!

I felt certain that I was flushed when we entered the room and I could only hope that no one would guess the cause of my heightened colour.

“Allow me to present my dear friend, Miss Sarah Wentworth.” Eliza's voice was full of importance as she introduced me to Mr. King. Of course, he was most proper, bowing and declaring himself delighted to make my acquaintance. I felt at once that these words carried meaning beyond their formality, an impression that grew steadily throughout the evening.