The Kindness of Strangers (37 page)

Sarah sensed that these words were meant to give her a jolt of guilt. Guilt that she should have visited the jail. But the words “alone” and “abandoned” conjured an image of Jordan walking down that driveway in the pouring rain. Jordan on the floor of that port-o-john. Jordan in those photos.

“I want to help you, Courtney. But you have to help me, too, okay? Help me understand it. They said, at the hospital, that Jordan was sick.” The silence swelled on the other end of the line. “You took medication from the hospital, right? You were
treating
him for a venereal disease. So . . . how did you . . . how could you not know what was going on?”

Courtney didn’t speak for nearly a minute, and when she did, her voice was muffled. “I know, I know. I was . . . afraid. I’ll never forgive myself for that.”

Sarah absorbed this. It was true that Courtney may have been afraid, but she should have been
more
afraid for her
son
. That was her job. She was his mother. These words burned on Sarah’s lips, wanting to be released.

“I miss him so much. How is he? Is he doing okay?”

“I don’t know,” Sarah said as neutrally as she could.

“Sarah, please. I need to know. Where is he?”

Sarah diced the tomato. “You’d have to talk to Children’s Services. You know that.”

“I’m sorry,” Courtney said, in a voice almost like a child’s. “I’m sorry. I just . . . God, I miss him.”

“I’m sorry, too. I am. You’ll see him tomorrow, you said. Hang in there, okay?”

“I’m so scared.”

Sarah wanted to put down the receiver. This woman’s pain and neediness, even over the phone, was nearly unbearable. And that feeling of fear would not shut off. It drained her, depleted her. Is this what Jordan had felt every day of his life?

“What if I lose him?” Courtney wailed.

“Shh,” Sarah said, but she didn’t know why.

In the background, on Courtney’s end, Sarah heard a knocking sound, and then a male voice asked, “Who are you talking to?”

“Sarah Laden,” Courtney said, her voice defensive.

“Is that your brother?” Sarah asked.

Courtney didn’t answer.

Sarah diced another plum tomato, took a deep breath, and asked, “The things that happened to Jordan . . . they happened to you, too, didn’t they?”

“That is
not
true,” Courtney snapped.

“It was in the papers. All the magazines. Your brother said—”

“It’s not true. It’s a bullshit story.”

“Why did you tell me you were an only child?”

“It is
not
true,” Courtney repeated, her words clipped and overpronounced.

“Okay,” Sarah said but didn’t mean it. She didn’t accept what Courtney said but knew there was no point in arguing with her, knew there was no way to win. “I have to go.”

“Oh, okay,” Courtney said, childlike and sad again. “Can I see you? Will you meet me somewhere?”

No, no, no.
Sarah inhaled with a gasp as she hung up, pretending she hadn’t heard this final question.

Chapter Nineteen
Nate

N
ate loved the little jolts of electricity her lips passed to him, her mouth warm-minty bold. Their teeth clicked, and Mackenzie drew back, shifting her weight on the hood of her Honda, laughing her breathy trill. The moonlight made her glow.

Nate breathed her honey-musk perfume and tried not to think about Mrs. Kendrick. He discovered the slightest salty flavor as he nibbled Mackenzie’s neck. Mackenzie made a satisfied, purring sound.

A car door shut down the block, and Nate tensed. He’d been paranoid ever since Mom told him that Mrs. Kendrick was out of jail. The car started and drove away. He exhaled. He was psyched that they caught Mr. Kendrick, but the thought of Mrs. Kendrick roaming around somewhere gave him the creeps.

Mackenzie lifted her long legs and wrapped them around his own, pulling them crotch to crotch.

Mrs. Ripley’s porch light snapped on. Nate backed off, and Mackenzie sat up.

“Is that you, Nate Laden?” Mrs. Ripley called through the dark.

“Yeah,” Nate answered, the word a “so what?” challenge.

“You’ve been out there a long time,” she scolded. Nate knew she’d been watching them.

“I’m just talking to my friend,” Nate said. But Mrs. Ripley stood there, silhouetted in her doorway, until Nate called, “Good night.”

“Good night,” she said reluctantly, and closed her door. The porch light stayed on.

Mackenzie scooted off the hood to the sidewalk. “Yikes. Was she watching us?”

“She watches
everything.
She knows every damn thing that happens on this street.”

“What’s her rabbit dressed as today?” Mackenzie asked, taking a step toward the porch.

“Don’t,” Nate whispered. “She’s still watching us.”

Mackenzie turned back around. “It’s dressed like a jockey for the Kentucky Derby!”

“Jesus, she needs to get a life.”

“Look, she even made it a little stick horse.” Mackenzie pointed to the rabbit.

The porch light snapped off.

“Oops. I hope she didn’t think I was making fun of it. Well . . . I should get going.” She slid into the driver’s seat, and Nate leaned in the open window. “Thanks for the movie.”

“Movie?” Nate asked. “Did we see a movie?”

She laughed. Man, he loved her laugh. She touched his cheek. “Call me tomorrow?”

“Yeah. I’ll call you when I’m back from Jordan’s therapist.”

“Why do you have to go?”

“It’s just a part of his therapy. Sometimes I go. Sometimes Mom goes. Sometimes we all go. His doctor is really cool.”

Mackenzie still stroked his cheek. “And he has to see his mom tomorrow?”

“No ‘has to’ about it. The way he sees it, he ‘gets to.’ He’s practically jumping for joy.”

“That’s just wrong.” She drew her hand away.

Nate leaned in further and kissed her, planning to linger only briefly, aware that Mrs. Ripley still watched them, but damn, he loved her mouth, her taste, her honey smell.

The porch light snapped back on, and Mrs. Ripley came out, slamming the door. They watched as she began to sweep her porch.

Mackenzie cleared her throat and grinned at Nate. “Night.” She started the engine and turned on the headlights.

He stood there in the street until her car had rounded the corner. He watched Mrs. Ripley a moment, who acted like he wasn’t there. As he walked to his own driveway, she stopped sweeping, went inside, and turned off her porch light again.

Lights were still on all over his house. He headed up the front porch steps and a voice from the darkness said, “Hey.”

He almost pissed himself, even though he recognized Jordan’s voice right away. “Jesus! You scared me.” Nate scanned the dark street. “You shouldn’t be out here, man.”

“
Why not?
” Jordan’s voice was icy.

Nate didn’t answer. He knew that Jordan knew why he’d said it. Nate sat on the top step and peered through the shadows at Jordan, knees drawn up to his chin, on the porch swing. Was he watching for his mom? Hoping she’d come by? “What are you doing out here?”

“I
was
just hanging out.”

Nate didn’t like the emphasis on “was.” “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing.”

They sat in silence awhile, listening to Mrs. Ripley’s bug zapper, before Jordan got up and went inside. Nate felt his great mood disappear.

Nate stood and went in, too, locking the front door behind him. He found Mom in the kitchen, surrounded by the cheesecakes she made every weekend for the local grocery store. She still moved with that manic energy she got when she was upset. He knew she’d been cooking all day, probably ever since she found out about Mrs. Kendrick.

“I’m home,” he said, stopping in the doorway.

“You’re late.”

Don’t argue
. “I’ve been back awhile. We were talking outside.”

She smiled, one hand on her hip, the other holding a spatula. “Talking? Lila sure didn’t think you were
talking.
”

“She called you?”

From the living room, Danny starting chanting, “Nate’s in lo-ove, Nate’s in lo-ove.”

“Shut up,” Nate called over his shoulder.

He couldn’t believe it when his mom laughed. “Just remember: There’s a time and a place—and it generally isn’t in front of Lila Ripley’s.”

He smiled back, cheeks hot. Sometimes Mom could be cool. He tried to think of something to say to her, to convey that, but he couldn’t think of anything. He stood there in the door frame and watched her arrange chocolate slices into the top of one smooth, yellow cake. The smell made his stomach growl.

She glanced up and noticed he was still there. “Want a slice?” She gestured to the cakes lining every available inch of counter space. “You can have anything, except the orange-and-pine-nut ones.” She pointed. “Those are chocolate, a couple chocolate-caramel, and we’ve got raspberry, blueberry, and turtle.”

“Chocolate,” Nate said, sitting on a stool at the kitchen island.

“Ah, good choice.” She put hefty slices on saucers and stuck chocolate pieces on the top before handing one to Nate.

She poured herself a cup of coffee and sat across from him.

Nate got himself a glass of milk.

The tart-creamy cake dissolved in his mouth. He nodded his approval. Mom grinned.

They ate in silence a few minutes before she cleared her throat. Looking down at her cake, she said, “So you and Mackenzie are getting pretty serious.”

Nate paused before swallowing and shrugged.

Mom cleared her throat again and glanced toward the living room. Nate knew what was coming when he saw the blush crawl across her cheeks. In a hushed voice, she said, “I hope you’re not rushing into a . . . sexual relationship.”

Oh, shit.
“Mom,” he protested.

“Nate, there’s nothing wrong with discussing this. Are you . . . sexually active?”

He remembered them talking about Danny that night, that odd feeling of her confiding in him. That memory made him brave. “So what if I am?” he asked, taunting her a little. “It’s a mitzvah, you know, to make love on Shabbat. You and Dad always told us that.”

Mom seemed to choke on her coffee. She coughed. “If you’re telling me you had sex tonight, I doubt very much it had anything to do with honoring God.”

Nate was amazed she wasn’t freaking. Her pursed lips and stooped shoulders were the only clues to how stressed she was.

They were silent. After a moment Mom took another bite of cheesecake. Nate did, too. Danny came into the kitchen. “Ooh, can I have a piece?”

“Sure,” Mom said with fake perkiness.

Nate watched her slice a piece while Danny called up the stairs, “Hey, Jordan! You want a piece of cheesecake?”

“No thanks,” came the muffled reply from behind his closed door.

Nate was relieved that Danny took his cake and returned to the living room.

Nate kept his eyes on his cheesecake. He thought about telling Mom he hadn’t had sex yet, but he didn’t. Besides, maybe he’d successfully changed the subject.

No such luck. He braced himself when Mom cleared her throat again. “You never answered my question, Nate,” she said. “Are you sexually active?”

“Mom!”

“What’s wrong with talking about it? Do you really think you’re ready if you can’t even discuss it without squirming?”

He scowled at her. “Oh, so if I talk about it with you, you’d say I’m ready? Okay. Fine. Let’s talk.” He crossed his arms, challenging her. She fidgeted with her coffee cup.

“Do . . . do you discuss it with Mackenzie?” Mom asked, looking down at the cup she turned between both hands.

“Hello? What do you think? I’m planning to drug her or something?”

Mom looked up and met his eyes, and he knew he’d answered her question. At least she didn’t make a huge deal out of it. She just nodded. “Do you have a plan for contraception?”

“Yup. Sure do.” He wouldn’t look away, daring her to ask more. “What else you wanna know?” She’d started this, after all.

She held up her hands, as if in surrender. “Believe me, I don’t want to push you. And I really wish your father were here to be having this conversation. I just . . .” She folded her arms on the island and leaned on her elbows. “Look, sex is a pretty wonderful thing.”

“You’re kidding,” Nate said. “Really?”

Mom smiled and rolled her eyes but didn’t laugh. “Don’t be in a hurry, Nate. Sex is very powerful. It engages very powerful emotions. Don’t rush into it, because getting there is just as powerful. And once you’ve made love, it’s hard to go back to just holding hands. It’ll change things between you two, and you have to be ready for that.”

Nate nodded. He couldn’t believe she was being so calm and cool about it.