Summer Friends (28 page)
Authors: Holly Chamberlin
55
Jackie pulled into the gas station across from the post office. She was surprised to find Harry's truck there. She thought Delphine had told her he'd be spending the night at her house. Maybe she'd misunderstood. She hadn't been thinking all that clearly since Kitty's diagnosis.
She got out of her car and called, “Harry, hey.”
Harry, who was standing at one of the pumps, looked over his shoulder. She thought he looked tired, maybe a bit sad, but it was hard to tell for sure in the uncertain late evening light. “Oh, hi, Jackie,” he said. “Any more word on Kitty?”
“The same. We won't know anything more for a few days. There are more tests to be run.” Jackie sighed. “Good thing Delphine hadn't left for Boston already. We need her here.”
“What?” Harry asked. His expression was puzzled.
Jackie smiled. “What do you mean, âWhat?' ”
“What did you say about Boston?”
“Boston. You know, the overnight she and Maggieâ” Jackie stopped talking as the truth hit her. “You didn't know?” she asked unnecessarily.
Harry's lips were tight. He shook his head, one brief time.
“I'm sorry, Harry. I'm sure she . . . Damn. I'm not sure of anything. Look, I've got to get home. . . .”
“Me too. Drive safe, Jackie.”
Jackie touched his arm. “Yeah. You too, Harry.”
Harry got into his truck and drove off. Jackie filled her gas tank, got back into her car, and called Delphine on her cell. Delphine didn't answer. Jackie tried again and then called the home phone. There was no answer to either attempt. Fine. Delphine was avoiding her. Since when, she wondered, had her sister become a liar? Jackie tossed her phone into the passenger seat and sighed. That was harsh. Delphine was in trouble. Clearly, she needed help of some sort, but Jackie had no idea what sort.
That crisis I felt looming,
she thought as she pulled out of the gas station.
Looks like there might be a part two.
That crisis I felt looming,
she thought as she pulled out of the gas station.
Looks like there might be a part two.
56
It was Tuesday morning, the day and the time they were supposed to have left for Boston. Instead, they were standing in an almost-deserted section of the Hannaford parking lot in York. Delphine wanted privacy when she talked to Maggie, but she hadn't wanted to ask her to her home.
“Why did you want to see me?” Maggie asked, her tone wary. The idea of meeting in a parking lot had struck her as a little bit insane. Either Delphine was crazy or she was selling drugs on the side.
“I wanted to ask if you had already booked us a room in Boston,” she said. “If there was a cancellation fee, I'll pay it.”
“What? No, no, there was no cancellation fee. Is that why you asked me to meet you here? You could have just called me.”
Delphine took a deep breath. “I also wanted,” she said, “to tell you that you don't have to worry about us.” What she didn't feel brave enough to do was apologize for having treated Maggie so harshly the last time they had met.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean that you don't have to worry about our needing money. We've decided to sell a bit of our land. The parcel is worth a lot. The money should pay for . . . a lot.”
“What parcel?” Maggie asked.
Delphine hesitated, anticipating Maggie's reaction. “The one I told you about. The one where the original Crandall house stood.”
“The one that's been in your family since the eighteenth century?” Maggie shook her head. “But that means so much to you, to everyone in your family!”
“It's fine,” Delphine said steadily. “A child's life is worth more than a piece of land.”
“Of course, but . . .” And then Maggie had an inspiration.
Why not?
she thought. She didn't need to talk to Gregory about it first. They had each maintained a separate bank account since their wedding, in addition to their joint holdings. She might need to get a small mortgage, but that was fine. She made money. She helped other people to make money. She knew how to handle it. “Look,” she said. “Why don't I buy the land? I can afford to let it alone. Your family can farm on it, build on it, or just keep it as is, whatever you want.”
Why not?
she thought. She didn't need to talk to Gregory about it first. They had each maintained a separate bank account since their wedding, in addition to their joint holdings. She might need to get a small mortgage, but that was fine. She made money. She helped other people to make money. She knew how to handle it. “Look,” she said. “Why don't I buy the land? I can afford to let it alone. Your family can farm on it, build on it, or just keep it as is, whatever you want.”
Delphine was thoroughly taken aback. In spite of Maggie's earlier offers of help, she really hadn't expected this third attempt. “No,” she said firmly after a moment. “Thank you. My father has already made a deal with the Burton brothers. They've been wanting to build a new house.... The parcel is perfect for them.”
“But . . . wouldn't you rather sell it to a friend? Wouldn't you rather sell it to someone who will let you use the land in any way you want to so it won't feel like such a loss?”
“We'll be fine,” Delphine insisted. “We'll pull together. We always have and we always will.”
Maggie felt hurt, left out, angry. She felt stupid for having cared. Again. Maybe she had no right to feel all those things, but she did. “You'll regret having sold away the land,” she said. “I know it.”
“You don't know anything of the sort!” Delphine cried, suddenly unable to keep her falsely calm façade in place.
“I know stubbornness for the sake ofâfor the sake of stubbornness when I see it,” Maggie shot back. “I know false pride.”
Delphine fought the urge to shove Maggie, to slap her face, to lash out. “What gives you the right to judge my life and my actions?” she yelled. “Why do you presume to think you know what's best for me? You know nothing about me, Maggie; you think you do, but you never really have.”
“That's not fair!” Maggie protested loudly. She didn't care if anyone else in the stupid parking lot could hear. “I've known you since we were little. I probably know you better than anyone else outside your family. I certainly know you better than Harry knows you!”
“Leave him out of it.”
“Better than your parents, then. You never even told them you were engaged to Robert!”
“How did you know that?” Delphine felt shocked, exposed, her anger tinged with fear.
“He told me,” Maggie said. “When he was calling me for a while just after you went back to Ogunquit. He was really hurt by that, not that you cared. Not that you cared about anyone but yourself.”
Poor Robert,
Delphine thought.
Everyone is so concerned about poor Robert's feelings. What about my feelings? Who was there to help me when I came back to Ogunquit with a broken heart?
Delphine thought.
Everyone is so concerned about poor Robert's feelings. What about my feelings? Who was there to help me when I came back to Ogunquit with a broken heart?
Maggie. That's who had been there. Rather, that's who had tried to be there for her. And routinely, deliberately, Delphine had pushed her away.
“I'm sorry for him,” she mumbled. She felt deflated, suddenly devoid of all purpose or intent. “I'm sure he's over it by now. I'm sure he's forgotten all about me.”
“Well, I never did,” Maggie said. Her voice was low and tight. “I never forgot about you.”
But maybe I should have,
she thought. Without another word, she turned, walked over to her car, and left Delphine standing by her dirty old truck.
But maybe I should have,
she thought. Without another word, she turned, walked over to her car, and left Delphine standing by her dirty old truck.
57
Delphine had gotten to Cybel and Joey's house around ten that Wednesday morning. She had volunteered to stay with Kitty while her parents met with another specialist down in Portsmouth.
Shortly after Joey and Cybel left, Jemima arrived, bearing a tuna casserole and a large deep dish of lasagna.
“Cybel and Joey need to be eating,” she said. “This way they don't have to worry about cooking for a while. I'll roast a chicken for them later in the week.”
Delphine thanked her and put the casseroles into the freezer.
“What does your friend Maggie have to say these days?” Jemima asked, not at all casually.
“About what?”
“About Kitty, of course. After you turned down her money. I mean, her âhelp.' ”
Delphine sighed. She really didn't want to talk about Maggie with anyone, let alone with Jemima, especially not after what had happened in the parking lot. She felt terribly embarrassed about that encounter. She wondered if she was losing her mind. “She said that she was sorry for Kitty, and for us.”
“She hasn't tried to interfere again, has she?”
“No,” Delphine lied. “And please don't say anything to anyone in my family about her offer of help.”
Jemima shrugged. “Fine. I'd better be going. I'm on the lunch shift today.”
“Be careful,” Delphine said, which was what she always said when Jemima was going off to work.
“Always am.”
When she had gone, Delphine joined Kitty in her bedroom. She was sitting cross-legged on her bed surrounded by stuffed animals. Delphine had given her most of them. They each had a name and a story. The room itself was a riot of pinks and purplesâeverything from the bedspread, to the curtains, to the walls. Cybel kept the room as tidy as she could, but Kitty wasn't very neat by nature. There were piles of books from the library on top of a small bookcase filled with her own books, many also gifts from Delphine. A poster of fairies was taped to one wall. Art suppliesâcrayons, watercolors, brushes, and pads of paperâwere stashed in a milk crate Joey had spray painted purple. A pile of string in a variety of colors sat on Kitty's desk. Next to it were a few friendship bracelets she had already completed.
“Hey,” Delphine said. She sat next to Kitty on the bed and picked up one of the stuffed animals, a beige puppy. His name was Puppy. There was a Doggie and a Kittyâof courseâand several Bearies. A lamb was called BaaBaa. A rabbit was called Bunny.
“Hey,” Kitty said. “Can we still go to the Sea Dogs game?” She looked tired, Delphine thought. And a little bit scared.
“I don't know,” Delphine answered honestly. “We'll have to see what the doctor says. If we can't go this summer we'll go next summer for sure. Okay?”
“Promise?”
“Promise. I'll even do a pinky swear.”
“What's that?”
Delphine showed her. “So, you swear to get all better, and I'll swear we're going to a Sea Dogs game.”
They linked pinkies and swore.
“Is my hair gonna fall out?” Kitty asked suddenly.
Delphine panicked. She didn't know just what or how much Joey and Cybel had told their daughter and she wanted to respect their decisions, even if she didn't necessarily agree with them. “Who told you your hair was going to fall out?” seemed like a neutral way to answer.
Kitty shrugged. “Everyone knows that's what happens when you're really sick. This boy in my class, his mother had cancer last year, and she went bald and wore these scarves wrapped around her head.”
“But her hair grew back, right?”
“Mmm-hmm.”
“I heard that when your hair grows back when you're all better it's even prettier than it was before.”
“Really?”
“Yup. But try not to worry about it, okay?”
“I'm not worried,” Kitty said in a slightly defensive tone. “Is your friend still visiting you?”
“Um, yeah.”
“Can I meet her?”
“Well, I'm not sure when she has to go back home.”
“Oh.” Kitty frowned. She seemed to be considering something. “Does she have pretty hair?” she asked then.
“Yes. She does.”
“What color is it?”
“Blond. When we were kids it was almost the color of jonquils. You know those flowers, right?”
“They grow in our garden out back. And Grandma has them. Will my hair grow back the same color as it is now?”
“I think so.” Delphine looked keenly at her niece. “Hey, are you sure you're not worried about losing your hair?”
Kitty reached for Bunny and without meeting Delphine's eyes said, “Well, maybe a little.”
“It might not even happen, you know. And if it does, I promise to sew you the coolest, prettiest scarves. Or maybe you'll want some funky hats. Or you could get both.”
“Maybe.”
“Hey, want to play a game?”
Kitty shrugged.
“I'll go pick something.” Delphine got off the bed and began to rummage in the tiny overstuffed closet. She heard the front door open and her brother call out, “We're home.”
“Daddy!” Kitty cried, and raced from the room.
Delphine stood alone in Kitty's room, a board game in her hand, and fought the urge to sob.
58
Later that afternoon there was a harsh knock on Delphine's front door, the kind made with a well-shod foot rather than a hand.
Delphine was surprised to find her mother standing on the porch, holding a large cardboard box in her arms. “Mom,” she said. “I wasn't expecting you.”
“I just have a minute. I'm off to Joey and Cybel's.” She came into the living room and put the box on the floor just inside the front door. “Keep that off your nice furniture. I dusted it off, but the grime is stuck there.”
“What is it?” Delphine asked.
“Last night,” Patrice said, “I couldn't sleep at all. I just had to do something. Nervous energy, I suppose. So I went up to the attic to do some sorting and came across this old box. It's yours. I thought you might want to look through it.”
“Oh,” Delphine said. “Thanks.”
“Let me know if there's anything in there we can sell at the church fair. Well, I have to run. Come by for dinner if you want, about six. I'm making a pot roast.”
When her mother had gone Delphine eyed the big cardboard box. The last thing she was in the mood for was a stroll down memory lane. That was Maggie's sort of thing. But a vague curiosity urged her to kneel down and open the flaps on top of the box. Her mother was right. The box felt soft and grimy.
One by one, Delphine removed the contents. An apron she had begun to embroider and neglected to finish. A chunky ring of pink and orange plastic, maybe Lucite, in the shape of a heart. A mood ring that had become permanently black. A naked plastic baby doll she had called Baby Mary. A threadbare Raggedy Ann doll wrapped in plastic. A furless pink rabbit she had named Bunny, just as Kitty had named her toy rabbit. An incomplete collection of tiny plastic furniture for a tin dollhouse she had shared with Jackie.
At the bottom of the box, squeezed between a yo-yo and a pair of roller skates with leather ankle straps, was what looked like a jumble of dirty string. Delphine pulled it free. It was the macramé bracelet Maggie had made for her the first summer of their friendship. Over time, the strands of cotton fiber had worn away and the bracelet had come apart. Over time, other gifts had been given and received, but this dirty, torn bracelet would always have the distinction of being the first gift of the friendship.
The dubious distinction. Delphine tossed the bracelet back into the box, wiped her hands on her jeans, and with her foot shoved the box against the wall.
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