The Turning (14 page)

“You’re not fine,” Linda said. “You’re burning up. I’m going to get more ibuprofen. I’ll be back in a minute.”

Only after I heard Linda’s footsteps going down the stairs did Lucy materialize again. Not that she’d been gone. She knew that Linda was there, and she’d heard what Linda had said. She knew we didn’t have much time. I wondered why it mattered, why a ghost couldn’t just reappear whenever she wanted.

She said, “Do you know what strip poker is?”

Well, this was a pretty crazy discussion to be having with a ghost! I nodded. Remember that second cousin of yours that was there for the weekend last summer, and every time things got quiet, he’d say, “Who wants to play strip poker?” And no one did. Dear God, I prayed, don’t let Lucy and Norris have played strip poker with Miles and Flora.

“It was Norris’s game,” said Lucy. “It was always Norris’s game. And the thing about Norris was, just the way he told you the rules made you realize there was no hope: you were going to lose. It was like strip poker except that none of the players took their clothes off. It was more like some kind of psychic strip poker and Truth or Dare combined. Every time you lost, and you always lost, you had to give up some terrible secret, some horrible truth about yourself that you’d never told anyone before. In case you hesitated or forgot, Norris had questions. What was the worst thing you ever did? The stupidest thing you ever said? The cruelest thought you ever had? The worst lie you ever told? The nastiest lie a person ever told about you? The meanest thing someone ever said about you that you knew was true?

“If you lied, if you made something up, Norris would know it. And he would start shouting at you until you told the truth. Every time you lost a hand, which was every time you played, he’d repeat all the other previous secrets you’d told about yourself. So you had to listen to them over and over. Like one of those children’s songs that keep growing, ‘Old MacDonald’ or ‘The Twelve Days of Christmas.’ But hurtful and wicked and evil. You hated yourself when those games were through. You wanted to crawl away and disappear. You would have died if you could—”

I wondered what Lucy had been forced to admit about herself. What awful secrets had made her cry on the boat in that heartsick way? But before I could imagine how to begin to ask, I heard Linda’s footsteps returning.

I said, “Did you and Norris ever play that game with the children?”

Lucy said, “We did. That was the worst of the worst. At first they thought it might be fun, playing cards with the grown-ups. And by the time they realized what the game was, Norris wouldn’t let them quit. It was terrible for them. They hated it. It always made them cry. Flora and Miles would be weeping and weeping. But they kept playing. Mostly children aren’t old enough to have done anything bad, especially not those kids. But all little children secretly believe they’re sinners. Especially those kids. Everything that Miles and Flora said seemed like some wrenching confession extracted under torture, and I could tell they were thinking about what they’d said even when we weren’t playing.

“Eventually I began to suspect that Miles and Flora were making things up for the game. Confessing bad things they’d done to their parents, though, from what I understood, they were so young when their parents were killed, they couldn’t possibly have done any of the things they said. But I think that they began to believe the stories they were telling. And those two innocent little children started to imagine that they were truly evil deep down in their souls—”

Evil
was the word that Miles’s school had used in the letter explaining why they didn’t want him back....

My bedroom light flashed on. The brightness was so painful, I felt as if a rocket had exploded behind each of my eyes.

“Here are the pills,” said Linda.

“Thanks a lot,” I said. “I was sleeping.” I was lying. I couldn’t bear that Linda had scared Lucy away.

“You sound annoyed,” said Linda. “You must be feeling better.”

“Well, I don’t,” I said. “I feel worse.”

“Hey, what’s that smell?” Linda said.

“What smell?” I asked. But I knew, because I could smell it, too.

“Shalimar hand cream,” said Linda. “I haven’t smelled that since—”

“Since Lucy left?” I said.

“How do you know? I can’t remember telling you that.”

“You did.” I was lying, but I had no choice. I wanted her to leave so maybe Lucy would come back.

“Great,” Linda said. “I must be getting sick, too. I’ve gone straight from 98.6 to some kind of fever dream.”

“You get some rest,” I said. “Take some of those pills you brought me.”

“I think I will,” said Linda. “Promise you’ll call if you need me.”

“I promise,” I told Linda. “We’ll both feel better in the morning.”

That’s all for now, Sophie.

Love,

Jack

DEAR DAD,

Well, I really came down with a bad flu this time. I know I said I’d tell you, but I didn’t want to scare you. I was too sick to write. Obviously, I’m better now. But my mood’s been kind of strange. I guess the island is finally getting to me. Especially now that I’m past the halfway mark. I’ll be really glad to see you. By the way, have you seen Sophie? I got two letters from her in a row, and then after that nothing, and it’s kind of freaking me out.

Let me know if you see her or if you hear anything.

Lots of love,

Jack

DEAR SOPHIE,

I guess what all this means is, we should probably break up. I know this might come as a shock to you. But it only seems right. After all, you didn’t fool me for a minute when you kept saying you’re seeing Josh again—and that you’re just friends. Did you think I didn’t notice your letters were getting further and further apart and less and less affectionate? Did you think I couldn’t tell that you had to force yourself to write to me, probably only because you felt guilty? Did you think it didn’t get my attention when you kept mentioning Josh’s name, because you couldn’t help it, even when you were trying not to?

But in a way it’s all okay. All for the best, as they say. Because now I don’t have to feel guilty about the fact that I seem to have fallen in love with a ghost.

I know you were probably expecting this. I know you probably saw it coming the minute I described seeing Lucy on the deck of the ferry. Remember? I knew what you were thinking. Or I used to know. I knew what you’d say about the seagull warning me, the seagull who called Lucy’s name in my dream. But I was never as smart as you, Sophie. We both knew that from the beginning. Even if I worked all summer on this miserable island taking care of two weird kids, even if I made enough money, I was never going to get into the same college as you did. So that was always a joke. We were always going to break up. So why not do it sooner rather than later?

So, okay, now that it looks like we’ve broken up, I’ll admit it. When I woke up the next morning, I was feeling a lot better. Except that I couldn’t stop thinking of Lucy. I got out of bed and searched my room. But of course she wasn’t there. She wasn’t anywhere. She’s dead. It’s not like I don’t know how totally strange this is. It’s one thing to be in love with an older woman. But it’s something else completely to be in love with a ghost.

I almost feel like at some point I split into two people. One of them is suffering about this. And the other me can joke about it and think, Hey, what’s the problem? The joking me says, Come on, Jack. What kind of future do you think you’ll have with this person? I mean, this ghost.

But then the suffering me goes back to bed and closes his eyes and hopes he’ll dream about Lucy. The heartbroken me goes to the window and looks out toward the lake and prays and prays to see her standing near the boathouse. The lovesick me wishes I could get sick again and run a high fever so she would come visit me and thank me for letting her in. Am I hurting your feelings, Sophie? Somehow, I doubt it. You’ve got Josh now. But since the only thing about me that interested you was my story, I’ll give you a thrill and tell you more. Remember, you asked for it.

I couldn’t believe I’d been frightened when I’d gone to the lake with Flora and seen Lucy on the opposite shore. If I’d known what I know now, I would have just left Flora there, showing off, calling out the Latin names of all her stupid plants. I would have run around to the other side of the lake and begged Lucy not to leave.

Why hadn’t I pleaded with Lucy to stay last night? She’d left when Linda came upstairs. It was all Linda’s fault. Then I wondered if Norris knew that Lucy had come to see me and if he was the one she was scared of, not Linda. Maybe he was waiting for her somewhere, maybe that was the reason she had to rush off.

I fell into a feverish sleep as soon as I took the pills Linda brought. Maybe I was even asleep before Linda left. If only I could have stayed awake and found Lucy again. But I couldn’t. I didn’t.

I opened my eyes.

It was morning.

I went downstairs to the kitchen, where Linda and the kids were eating breakfast.

“Miracle cure!” said Linda.

“There wasn’t a miracle,” I said.

“Anyway, quick recovery. You probably shouldn’t be downstairs. And do me a favor. If you can help it, please don’t breathe on the kids. You guys should stay apart for a few days so as not to pass this illness back and forth. Miles and Flora can read and hang out. Jack, you should go back to bed.”

Just the sight of them made me mad, the three of them having their perfect, healthy gourmet breakfast with their perfect cook in their perfect kitchen. Even if they’d had a bad experience with their previous household staff, even if Miles acted out in some way and got kicked out of school, it was better than what Lucy went through. Poor Lucy had wound up dead. And all because of Norris.

I almost wished Norris was still alive so I could kill him all over again. Meanwhile, in whatever other realm she inhabited, maybe suspended in some zone between the worlds of the dead and the living, Lucy needed my protection. That’s why she visited me last night. If only I’d known her when she was alive, maybe none of this would have happened.

Linda said, “Jack, you need to rest. You should spend the day in bed. I’ll bring you a tray upstairs—”

I said, “You’re not my mother.” I ran outside, slamming the screen door behind me.

“I can lend you a book,” Miles called after me. “A cool book about explorers.”

“Keep it,” I yelled back. “You think I care about your stupid, boring explorers?”

I waited on the doorstep, not knowing where to go next. I heard Linda say, “Jeez, what did I do? What’s got into him?”

“It’s nothing
you
did,” said Miles.

“He’s probably still feeling sick,” said Flora.

That was it. That was too much. I ran off across the back lawn.

I felt a little better outside, away from them and breathing the fresh air. I went and sat by the lake. I focused on the spot near the boathouse where Lucy appeared when I was with Flora. I hoped she’d come back, now that I was alone. I kept staring at that same place. I didn’t want to miss her.

Sometime in the afternoon—I’d left my watch inside—Flora appeared and asked if I wanted lunch.

“Leave me alone!” I said. “Can’t any of you leave me be?” Normally, I would have felt bad for shouting at Flora. But if anything had been normal, I wouldn’t have shouted at Flora.

“We’re worried about you,” she said. “Linda told me to come check on you.”

“Worry about yourself,” I said. “I’ll see you when I see you.”

I spent the rest of the afternoon sitting by the lake, under a tree. Finally I gave up. Lucy wasn’t going to appear. Norris had probably found out about last night, and somewhere—wherever they were—he was holding her prisoner.

When I got back to the house, the three of them were in the kitchen. Had they been there all day, talking about me? Why couldn’t they back off and give me a little breathing room, so I could get my head together?

On the table in a jar was one of Flora’s disgusting wildflower bouquets. Considering that they always wilted the minute she brought them into the house, this one looked relatively fresh. So I figured she must have found something to do without me following her around as she ran from flower to flower showing off how much she knew about what the nasty weeds were called in Latin. As if anyone cared, as if anyone spoke Latin anymore, as if anyone would know if she was making it all up!

Miles had brought his book to the table, so I assumed he’d been reading about explorers, which struck me as a pathetic activity for a kid who never got to go anywhere by himself, who wasn’t allowed to leave the island, and who’d gotten expelled from school and sent back the first time he’d escaped. And Linda was making her oh-so-special pasta, when the truth is, I prefer my dad’s spaghetti, even the ravioli he heats up from a can when he’s been working too hard to cook.

Linda glanced up when I walked in. She said, “Jack, you look awful! You look like you’ve seen a ghost!” As soon as she said it, she realized what she’d said. “Oh, I’m so sorry. It’s just that you’re so pale, and you’ve been outdoors all day, so—”

“I was in the shade,” I said. “Trying to breathe.” I guess I shouldn’t have said that, because as soon as I did, my chest began to hurt, and I heard myself gasp, as if I couldn’t breathe.