Shadowed Summer (19 page)

The way I figured it, we had about a half hour before anybody came looking for us. The CDs played just loud enough to hide the emptiness of Collette’s room, and the locked door would keep Rooster from barging in to find out otherwise.

I loved my plan; I felt like a genius.

Since we were being wicked anyway, we threw pebbles at Ben’s window instead of going to the front door. He didn’t have to be in for his curfew for another couple of hours, but what good was sneaking out without acting up a little?

Raising his screen, Ben leaned out to squint at us. “What are y’all doing?”

“Come down and we’ll tell you,” Collette said, putting her hands on her hips. She smiled up at him, jutting one hip out and tilting her head.

Ben ducked inside. One invasion must have been enough for him, because he popped out the back door, then looked up at his window in relief. “Where y’all at?”

“We’re fine,” Collette purred. She half yanked my arm off and put me on display. “Guess what.”

“What?” Ben hunched over, his hands searching for pockets his sweatpants didn’t have.

Ben had so much on his mind—his mama, his daddy, what he and his brother had done—I felt guilty for piling a murder on his conscience, too. I hoped taking it back would make things better. A little, anyway.

“I was wrong about my daddy, Ben.” I nodded, sincere. “He knew Elijah died, but he didn’t kill him.”

And I think it did help. All at once, Ben seemed to grow taller. His back straightened, and a smile curved the corners of his mouth. “Well, that’s good to know.”

I nodded. “Yeah. So I don’t know exactly what happened, but he didn’t do it. And”—I nearly knocked myself over when I waved my hand too hard—“Miss Nan lied. She and Elijah broke up before Easter.”

“They could’ve gotten back together,” Collette said, trying to be fair. That didn’t last long, though; she took a breath and then said, “But still, she didn’t say anything to us about running around with a carnie. I mean, she dumped him right there at the fair!”

Rocking back on his heels, Ben considered it. “Maybe Miss Nan killed him and your daddy found out.”

That didn’t feel right to me, and I shook my head. “But then he woulda looked for him. His body, I mean. Or told on her, at least.”

“Oh, I know!” Collette drew a map in the air, trying to put people into position to illustrate her point. “Maybe Elijah ran away and got a new identity, then found out he was dying and wrote a goodbye note!”

Ben kicked at the dirt, furrowing his brows. “But why wouldn’t he tell his mama that?”

Snorting, Collette flipped her hair over her shoulder. “Uh, because she’s crazy?”

The wind picked up, and I had to curve my hands against my face to keep my hair from my eyes. I looked into the dark, expecting to see somebody watching us. Nobody was there.

“He could have killed himself,” I said. “I think I’d know it if y’all wanted to go off and die somewhere, so maybe Elijah’s friends did, too. I wouldn’t want to go looking and find you dead, you know?”

Collette shuffled from foot to foot, giving my theory a moment of life before killing it. “I think he had a secret identity and cancer.”

Wincing, Ben shrugged. “Maybe.”

Sure of herself, Collette added, “We still don’t know why he was in the hospital.”

A glow of white light poured onto the lawn, and Ben’s mama stepped onto the porch. She was only a shadow, but I could see the wisps of dark hair that escaped her scarf to swirl around her head. “Wind it up, baby.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Ben said, caught having a mama who still called him pet names in public. Lowering his voice, he stepped closer. “You wanna go to the cemetery tomorrow and we can work on this some more?”

“We’ll be there.” Collette lingered like she wanted to stay behind for a private minute, but then she looked me over and started toward the woods. “I wonder if we can get old medical records at the library?”

Starting to follow Collette, I told her I thought medical records stayed private forever, and then stopped at the tree line. “I forgot to ask Ben something. I’ll be right back,” I said, ignoring her bothered frown. I caught him right before he closed the door.

Ben put his shoulder between the door and the frame, half inside, half out. Shadows played on his brow. “What’s wrong?”

Tugging on the hem of my shirt, I glanced over my shoulder at Collette. “Did you throw that rock when you were at my house?”

Incredibly quiet, Ben smiled uncomfortably and looked away. “I didn’t mean to hit the glass. That was an accident.”

A sigh rolled out of me. “What about the knocks?”

“No, ma’am,” he said, holding both hands up to swear his innocence. “That wasn’t me.”

Mindful that Ben wasn’t the only one to make things up about Elijah, I summoned as much generosity as I could. “Just don’t do anything else like that, all right?”

“I won’t.” He raised a hand to his collar but dropped it right away. I guess he remembered he was too old to cross his heart and hope to die. “I’m sorry you got hurt.”

Bouncing down the steps before he got too close to me, I waved off his apology with a good, queenly smile. “I got better, didn’t I?”

I didn’t wait to see him agree; instead, I ran to catch up with Collette. It was a short run through the darkened woods, and the shadows were too familiar to scare us.

When we saw the lights coming from Collette’s house, she finally turned to me. “What did you want to ask Ben?”

I didn’t get a chance to answer. Our daddies were standing at the back door, and neither one wore a smile.

“I don’t understand you, Iris.”

“Nobody said we couldn’t leave,” I mumbled. He hadn’t said a word to me the whole walk home.

The air conditioner kicked on in our living room. Just knowing Daddy was mad thickened the air in the house. I tried to slip upstairs silently, like he might not notice my leaving if I was quiet enough.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

Stiffening, I stopped at the doorway, but I didn’t turn around. I didn’t want to see the hangdog look on his face.

“Sit down.” I could hear the frown in his voice, and I dragged my feet on my way to the table. I kept my attention on the patterns in the wood as I sat playing with my fingers, waiting for my sentence.

Clearing his throat, Daddy sat back. “You’re going to stop running around in the middle of the night. I don’t care how grown you think you are; you’re not.”

“Daddy.”

“Don’t ‘Daddy’ me,” he said. He sounded tired and frustrated, and he kept wiping the same clean spot on the table over and over. “I don’t know what’s gotten into you this summer, but it’s going to stop.”

“I’m just the same!”

Daddy whipped his head up. “Is it that Duvall boy?”

My cheeks burned. “What? No! Why would you even think that?”

Closing his eyes for a second, he took a breath, then looked me right in the eye. As plain as he could be, he said, “Then you tell me what I’m supposed to think.”

“Ben’s a good person!” Jumping up from my chair, I knocked it over in my scramble toward the stairs. “Collette’s got dibs, anyway.”

He called after me, but I ran as fast as I could and threw myself into my room. Right then, I hated everybody and everything, and when I found a pyramid of brand-new rocks in the middle of my bed, I cracked. Snatching them up, I screamed at Elijah to leave me alone, too. Glass sparkled like snow, and it was so pretty that it didn’t occur to me I shouldn’t have broken my window like that.

Footsteps pounded up the stairs, and my door flew open. Daddy towered there, his face twisted up, his expression between furious and terrified. In slow motion, I watched him take in the broken window, then me, too stunned to speak, let alone yell.

Letting the rest of the rocks tumble from my hands, I sat down hard on the end of my bed, vomiting up sudden sobs that hurt all the way from my belly to my throat.

Afraid to move, I sat there stiff as I could and said between gasps, “Elijah made me, Daddy. He made me do it.”

Where I lived, people who went crazy were allowed to with respect. We didn’t see psychiatrists, we didn’t take happy pills, and we didn’t go to the state hospital unless we did something so wild nobody knew how to handle it.

All I’d done was talk out of my head some, so Daddy decided, like most people would, that I should talk to our priest. He got me up early and told me to put on church clothes. It was all right to go crazy in Ondine, but you had to look decent while you were doing it.

Father Rey’s office smelled like fried fish. It was a tiny little room, with plaster walls decorated in pretty blue-caped-Mary pictures and lots and lots of books. From where I sat, I could make out a collection of science-fiction novels on a bottom shelf.

It wasn’t a real convenient time to lose my mind. My grumbling stomach turned sour, and I glowered because Collette would have a chance to talk Ben into her stupid sick-and-dying idea before I even got to argue my side.

Finally, the door opened and Father Rey came in. Clasping his hands together as he sat, Father Rey smiled at me, posed to listen and understand. “I think we both know why you’re here, Miss Iris, so why don’t you tell me what’s on your mind?”

“I’m just having a bad summer,” I said, crossing my ankles, then freeing them to keep my attention from wandering toward the window. “My best friend went all funny, and my daddy thinks I’m running around with boys and I’m not. That’s all.”

Father Rey rubbed his thumbs together, his soft skin whispering with each brush, and his smile never faltered. “Well, we can talk about that, but why don’t you tell me why you think Elijah Landry’s haunting you?”

My throat turning dry, I shifted in my chair uncomfortably. I’d go right to hell for lying to a priest, so I mumbled an “I don’t know” and hoped that would be enough.

“Your father’s concerned,” Father Rey said, his smile serious. “And so am I. I’m worried about your mind, but I’m worried about your soul, too.”

Something felt wrong, like Father Rey knew more than he should have, so I hedged. “I don’t know why I said what I did last night. I was just mad.”

Father Rey reclasped his hands, studying my face. “And what about the Ouija board? All the time you’re spending in the cemetery?”

A chill swept through me, and I glanced to the door instead of answering. I wanted to poke my fingers into Daddy’s brain and find out exactly what he’d told Father Rey and how he’d known what to tell him.

“You know, Iris, an imagination is a wonderful thing to have.” Father Rey’s smile came back briefly, like that proved it was okay for me to think all kinds of things. “But you have to understand that the dead are in God’s hands. The only way you can talk to them is through prayer.”

I knew Father Rey meant what he said, but my whole summer told me he was wrong. “Yeah, but they don’t answer back when you pray.”

Father Rey wrapped his hands around the arms of his chair, lifting it to slide closer to me. “They don’t answer at all, Iris. They’re beyond this world, and any answer you get is a lie. All the pain you’ve suffered trying to follow that path, that was a warning from God.”

The cold dug down a little deeper, starting to ache in my joints. “I don’t know what you mean.”

Concern wrinkled his brow, and he pressed two fingers to his temple, offering examples when I didn’t say anything. “You got a sunburn waiting for him in the cemetery, didn’t you? And you had an upsetting encounter with Mrs. Landry? I understand you’ve been fighting with your best friend over this.”