The Right Time (7 page)

Hennessy slid her spread fingers into her hair and rubbed them across her scalp. She was so frustrated she itched from head to toe. “What do we do? We can’t have her robbing people.”

Mary Ann looked at her for a long time. “I’m not ready to give up yet, but I’ll understand if you are. This is probably hitting too close to home.”

“It is,” she admitted. “But I can handle that part. It’s the other kids I’m worried about. I can’t have her reading bad porn in class! I had zero warning.”

“Then work with Andrea to make the topics more specific. Give them an assignment where they don’t have as much latitude for going off the deep end. Don’t let this little hellion have her way again. You’re smarter than she is, you’re more resourceful, and you’re more empathetic. I have complete confidence in you.”

“I hate it when you try to make me feel like I’m better than I really am,” Hennessy groused, unable to hide a reproachful smile.

“I’ve yet to do that. You’re every bit the woman I think you are.”

Hennessy spent the whole day trying to decide how to let Townsend know she was aware of her latest prank. It was almost nine, and she’d been wandering around the grounds since supper, making it over to the ocean. She’d sat on the sand, watching a blue heron stalk then pounce, snapping up fish in his beak. She’d seen egrets, cormorants and sanderlings all trying to scoop up some chow. If it were up to her, she’d sleep all day and go out at night when it was cool, and when all of the animals started planning their meals.

On her walk back, the toads started to croak, and the katydids made the hypnotic sounds that always soothed her. They were all trying to let others of their species know they were there. Even the smallest insect needed to feel heard…to know that someone registered his existence.

Humans needed that as much as any animal. She was sure of that. And of all the humans she knew, no one needed to be seen more than Townsend.

Standing in a dark glade of loblolly pines, their trunks stretching toward the sky, Hennessy made a pledge to herself—and to Townsend. She wouldn’t give up on her. The more the girl fought and fussed, the more she revealed how lonely she was. So lonely that alcohol was the only thing she could rely on. It’d probably be like wrestling a wild hog, but Hennessy was determined to get inside.

When she was near the cabin a big owl flew right over her head, startling her. Then he landed in a tree and started to call. Who? Who?

Good question. Who was going to win this round?

The light was on in Townsend’s room, and after a brief knock, Hennessy entered.

Townsend was sitting on her bed, leaning back against the headboard as she drew on a large sketchpad. Hennessy sat on the edge of the bed and looked over the top of the pad. “I didn’t know you could draw.”

“I can’t. I just play around.” For a change, Townsend seemed relaxed and unguarded, her protective shell nowhere to be seen. As Hennessy’s head tilted, Townsend playfully pulled the pad closer and let out a soft chuckle. “It’s not good.”

It was like being with a different person, a person you could actually talk to. “I can’t draw at all,” Hennessy said. “I sat in on the first session of a drawing class, but realized I couldn’t keep up with the fourteen-year-olds. I thought I’d better quit while I was ahead.”

“What do you do all day, anyway? Besides harass me.”

Townsend’s comment was a little harsh but this time she was teasing. The sly grin underscored that. “I can sit in on classes or work on my own stuff. It’s a pretty cush job, if I’m gonna be honest.”

“I was kidding when I said your main job was harassing me.” Their eyes met and Hennessy saw sparks of life in her gaze, as if she
wanted
someone to talk to, someone to look her in the eye and listen. When Townsend took a swig off her liter water bottle, Hennessy got a hint of a scent. The one she’d come to find. Did Townsend honestly need to drink to feel like a normal kid? To be someone who could have a casual chat?

Reaching out, Hennessy grasped the bottle when it hit the nightstand. “I just went on a long walk and I’m parched. Can I have a sip?”

“No!” Her hand flew out, but Hennessy already had it in her grasp. “Don’t do that. Really. I…think I’m coming down with a cold. I’ll get you a fresh bottle from the refrigerator.”

“I have a very good immune system. I’ll risk it.” She lifted the bottle to her lips and let a few drops trickle in. Making a face, she handed the bottle back. “Really, Townsend? Not even a mixer?”

The open expression slammed shut. How did someone’s eyes go dead in a heartbeat? “Pack now or can I wait until morning?”

“That depends. Since you’d have to walk to wherever it is you think you’re going, you might want to travel light.”

The girl had a fuse about as long as a gnat’s whisker. Her cheeks flushed immediately, eyes sparking in outrage. She sat all the way up, almost touching Hennessy’s face with her own. “Come on! You have to kick me out. I broke into the camp director’s office.” She all but begged to leave. But some tiny bit of her didn’t want to go. Hennessy had gotten good at reading people, and for all her bluster, this kid was ambivalent about taking off. Maybe she knew she’d be returning to an actual babysitter.

“Uh-huh, you sure did. You should have seen her face when she mixed herself a nice big water and tomato juice.” Hennessy tried hard to make the smile on her face appear gentle and warm.

But Townsend wasn’t having any of it. Hennessy couldn’t read her well yet, but her expression seemed to waver between her usual defiance and suspicion. Like she was used to being toyed with. “Is my birth mother paying extra to keep me here? What in the fuck is going on?”

“We agreed to teach you a few things this summer, and we fully intend to do that. You’ll be going home—in August, with everyone else.”

Now Townsend started to heat up. There was every chance she was going to lash out. Maybe even physically. That little bit of ambivalence was long gone. “Why are you torturing me? I don’t want to be here!”

Just to reduce the chance of Townsend giving her a good lick, Hennessy stood, then looked down at her. It wasn’t possible to stay calm, but Hennessy tried hard to let the compassion she felt for the kid come through in her voice. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but you seem like the kind of girl who doesn’t want to be anywhere. That’s why you remind me a little bit of my mom.”

Townsend collapsed back onto her bed. It was amazing how quickly she could go from rage to an almost inert state. Like her anger was very wide, but not deep. “Lucky you.”

“I wish I meant that as a compliment.”

A sharp gaze almost burned Hennessy. The girl could skin a cat with that look. “I truly hate to see someone your age who’s so unhappy. At least my mom’s thirty-two.”

A frown flitted by when she forgot she wasn’t supposed to engage. “You mean forty-two.”

“Nope. My mother’s thirty-two. Just past her fifteenth birthday when she gave birth to me.”

“Fuck,” Townsend mumbled. “Why didn’t she get an abortion?”

That one stung. Hennessy had to turn away to hide the hurt she knew would show on her face. She held the water bottle up to the light, like she had to check it out. “Thanks,” she said dryly. “It’s nice to know you’re so pleased with my presence on the planet.”

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it. I don’t know how things are around here, but where I come from no one would let their fifteen-year-old daughter have a baby.”

“I’m sure the judge was thinking she was a little immature when the state severed her parental rights,” Hennessy said. “Of course, they had a good reason. The house caught on fire when she was passed out dead drunk on the sofa.”

“What…?” She wanted to know more. You could see the questions in her eyes. But she stopped herself from seeming too eager. “You were in the house?”

Hennessy didn’t have a wisp of a memory of the incident, but she’d heard it recounted so many times she had some visuals. Images that made her voice shake no matter how hard she tried to play it cool. “Yeah. Her cigarette had dropped onto the floor and started a smoldering fire. Good thing the carpet was threadbare so it didn’t go up as fast as it should have. I’m here today because the firemen ran back into the house when the neighbors said there was a baby inside.”

“Jesus, fuck! How old were you?” Now she was all-in. Her cool veneer had disappeared.

“I think I was a month old, maybe a little less. I’m glad she didn’t breastfeed me. I can’t imagine it’s fun for infants to have a hangover.”

“Damn, Hennessy! Where were her parents?”

“At their house, I guess. My parents were married when I was born. They had a little place on the wrong side of the wrong side of the tracks. ’Course, that burned down. My daddy and I moved into his parents’ home. My grandparents raised me.”

“That’s insane,” Townsend murmured. “Don’t they have some minimum age for getting married down here?”

Goddamn it! She couldn’t go two seconds without sticking a knife into your gut. “Yes, Townsend, even down here there’s an age of consent, but it’s only fourteen when the parents sign off. My gramma wouldn’t stand for having her grandbaby be illegitimate. So they got married.” Summoning all of the compassion she could retain, Hennessy gentled her voice. “What’s your situation? You refer to your birth mother but I can’t figure out what that means.”

She waved her hand dismissively. “I just call my mother that to jerk her around.”

“Why?” Hennessy truly didn’t understand the motivation.

“She gave birth to me, but that’s about all she’s done since. She delivers a couple of books a year, and I’m pretty sure each of them is more precious to her than I am.”

“That can’t be true. I’d give an awful lot to have my mother care enough to find a camp like this for me.” She felt herself start to tear up, so she clamped down hard on her emotions. Townsend was the sort who would laugh at her softness, and she wouldn’t allow that. “Heck, I’d give a lot to have her remember my birthday.”

Townsend looked contrite for a moment. But even a moment felt like a point on Hennessy’s score sheet. “Do you ever see her?”

“Oh, sure. She heard I was leaving for camp and she came to see me and say goodbye. ’Course, she tried to wheedle ten bucks off me. Said it was for food, but the only food she ever buys is eighty proof.”

“Goddamn. You must hate her.”

Hennessy’s eyes opened wide. “I most certainly do not! She’s my mamma, and I’ll always love her. I just can’t save her from herself.”

“How can you love someone who treats you that way? Jesus, she almost killed you!”

“She has a disease,” Hennessy said, briefly thinking of how many times she’d had to remind herself of that fact before she’d truly accepted it. “She’s so far gone in her illness that I’m sure it’ll kill her—probably before she’s forty.” She took pains to gentle her voice. “How can you hate someone who already hates herself so badly? Yes, she breaks my heart. Yes, I’d give anything to have had a real mother when I was growing up. Yes, I wish she hadn’t come to my grade school, blind drunk, begging me for my milk money in front of the other kids. Yes, there have been times when I wished she’d never been born. But she was, and I was, and we have to make the best out of it. I swear to God I’ll miss her like the dickens when she’s gone.”

Townsend was quiet for a while, looking everywhere but into Hennessy’s eyes. “Why do I remind you of her?”

Reaching out with a trembling hand, Hennessy touched Townsend’s chin and lifted it until they looked into each other’s eyes. “Because she was your age when she drank herself into a coma. I figure you must be bedeviled by the same kind of pain.”

Townsend flinched, obviously reminded of her own recent hospitalization.

Hennessy took the liter of vodka and held it over Townsend’s head, where it loomed like the blade of a guillotine. “It’s not too late. You’re right on the cusp. It’s a hell of a lot easier to turn back now than it will be later. Don’t go down that path.” She closed her eyes for a moment, thinking of her mamma. If someone had stuck with her when she was a girl, had somehow let her know she mattered… Looking down at Townsend, she added just one word, spoken in a hoarse whisper: “Please.”

The next morning, Townsend
surprised the heck out of Hennessy when she showed up right on time for her feedback session. Hennessy had gone to the small, private office in the writing program bungalow right after breakfast, certain Townsend would be a no-show. But the girl stood in the doorway, a quizzical look on her face.

There were twenty different ways to start, but Hennessy couldn’t decide which was right. It was like facing down a polecat: it might just skitter by you, but it could also take a swipe that’d leave a lasting scar. Townsend made the decision for her, reducing a potentially charged opening to a completely practical one.

“Is there any coffee around here?” A trembling hand shot through her disordered hair, with the bright sun enhancing the pasty white color of her skin. Townsend dropped into the chair, slumping down like a freshly-punished child.

Something about Townsend’s affect brought out the well of compassion that Hennessy always had access to. No matter how much the alcoholics in her life screwed up, she could never stay angry. Gently, she reached over and took the pale hand in her own. “It’s not easy, is it?” She examined it carefully, rubbing her thumb across the faint yellow stains that marred the skin between the second and third fingers. “Giving up booze and cigarettes in the space of two days must be killing you.”