A Novel Read online

  But we are, I would say. Mad for each other.

  The dream scenario was so pleasing I could put out my lights and turn on my side to hug the pillow and welcome my new fantasy.

  I never heard my mother come home.

  But when I saw her in the morning, rushing past my bedroom door to get breakfast started, she was still wearing the ruby dress. I didn’t let her know I had seen her.

  My body trembled.

  Something that rarely happened was happening.

  One of the great secrets of Wyndemere was unfolding right before my eyes.

  Finally, perhaps, it had decided it was time to emerge from the shadows.

  13

  I DELIBERATELY MADE more noise than usual getting up and ready for breakfast. Before I came out of my bedroom, my mother rushed into hers and changed clothes quickly. I felt as if I was her mother catching her doing something deceitful. I was at the table when she emerged, now in her dark-blue denim pullover dress that basically had become her uniform. She had four nearly identical ones, none very flattering to her figure, all making her look more matronly. She wore a pair of black shoes that always looked very masculine to me. And of course, she had washed off any makeup she had worn and pinned back her hair in that severe bun. What a contrast she was to the attractive woman who had prepared so enthusiastically for a dinner date yesterday.

  “Everything go all right last night?” she asked me.

  “I was about to ask you,” I replied.

  She went for her coffee. “Oh, it was very pleasant, and the food was as good as I remembered.”

  “What about Dr. Bliskin?”

  “He’s doing very well in his practice, and his children are all starting their first year in college, each going to a different one. I imagine they wanted to have a sense of independence. It must have been hard for each one to grow up with two identical sisters. It was only natural for everyone to continually contrast and compare them.”

  “What’s he like? Is he how you remembered him?”

  “He looks like he’s not aged a day, and that’s not easy for a doctor, with all the responsibility and stress,” she quickly added. “So, tell me quickly. What happened in school?” She sat with her coffee.

  I told her what I had learned about Paul and Barry.

  “Were the other students understanding or resentful?” she asked pointedly.

  “More resentful, I’d say. They all expected me to give them great detail, but I refused to talk about it. I think I might have lost the half dozen or so friends I’ve made at Hillsborough. We’ll see,” I said.

  “Anyone who resents you for not doing what you were told is not really a friend anyway,” she said. “You’ll make new ones, I’m sure.”

  “Here? I doubt it,” I said. “But right now, I’m not worried about it.” I looked at the clock and then at her. “Maybe when I come home today, you’ll tell me more about our Dr. Bliskin,” I said. “You haven’t even told me what he looks like, just that he looks the same.”

  “Oh, as I said, you’ll meet him yourself before he attends the Davenport dinner.”

  She rose to make herself some breakfast. I knew when my mother was avoiding me. She actually looked a little frightened of how I was studying her and the questions I was asking. She certainly avoided my eyes. I was tired of what she would call “skirting the issue.”

  “So . . . am I going to finally meet my father?” I asked.

  She spun around. “What?”

  “It would help to know that ahead of time.”

  “No.”

  “No it wouldn’t help, or no I’m not meeting my father?”

  “You’re not meeting your father,” she said. “He’s a father to triplets. That’s enough fathering for him, maybe for any man,” she added, and turned back to scrambling herself an egg.

  I didn’t believe her, but my mother had a way of not telling me the truth or the whole truth and yet not sounding like she was telling a lie. She was too careful about how she composed her words. I hadn’t meant that I wanted him to assume the role of my father, and she knew that, but she wasn’t going to talk to me about any of this right now.

  “Okay, then,” I said, rising. “I’ll get my things and go meet the bus.”

  “Well, I do hope you’ll have a better day,” she said, then kissed me on the forehead, brushed back my hair, and went off through the tunnel of Wyndemere to work.

  This time, when I went out to the bus stop, Bea Davenport did not escort Ryder and Sam to the limousine. Parker was standing at the car and waiting for them. He smiled and nodded at me, and I smiled back. When I reached the bus stop, I did not turn when Ryder and Sam came out, until I heard them get into the vehicle. I watched it pull away. For a moment, it felt like nothing different had occurred. I had never gone to the prom, Paul Gabriel had not gotten us all into trouble, there was no gossip at school with police investigating, and most of all, Ryder had not come to my bedroom and been loving the way a real boyfriend would be. It was all some fantasy, and now it was gone as quickly as a dream usually flees when you open your eyes in the morning. You might remember this or that, but by the time you’re into your day, it’s dwindled to an image or two. Reality has thrown cold water on it all.

  When I arrived at school, this feeling was reinforced. Little was being said about the prom or the incidents after it. Everyone was talking more about the coming end of the school year, summer plans, and, of course, the dreaded finals we’d all face. The baseball season was going to conclude soon, too. The boys were talking about their usual subjects. I heard no mention of Paul or Barry. In fact, by lunch, I hadn’t heard one word about the prom, and certainly no one talked about my being chosen prom queen now. My girlfriends and others were not even whispering behind my back. I was truly yesterday’s news.

  At times, I felt invisible, forgotten. I almost wished someone would ask me something about the investigation, but the truth was that the scandal was apparently over. The police had arrested whom they wanted. Some of the others who had taken Barry’s X were now breathing sighs of relief and probably didn’t want the subject mentioned. They were incidental. They were given a warning, a warning they shrugged off. I wondered if anyone had learned anything at all from what had happened. It was almost as if it had happened at some other school. Certainly, Alison Reuben no longer shared anything with me. None of my girlfriends was even slightly envious of my relationship with one of the prettiest and most popular girls in the school anymore. That relationship had been short-lived, and, frankly, now I didn’t care.

  It was as if the clock had been turned back, not by an hour as it was during Daylight Savings Time in the fall but by days, if not weeks. But there were subtle changes around me. When I asked a question of someone, she answered in one or two words, and it didn’t lead to any other conversation. I felt like I was looking in on the world and not part of it. Maybe everyone’s desire to forget the bad things that had occurred meant they had to ignore me. I was too much of a reminder.

  There was one dramatic and obvious change. Alison Reuben looked like she was developing a serious relationship with John Shepherd and was no longer spending time with him only to annoy Ryder. Ryder wasn’t paying much attention to her anyway, nor was he paying any additional attention to me. Although I knew it was how we had planned we should behave for now, it still saddened me. Why couldn’t we take a big leap forward together? Why couldn’t we be defiant? Why couldn’t I be his girlfriend and be with him every opportunity we had to be together in school? Why couldn’t we be open about the new and more mature way we felt about each other?

  Of course, I knew the answer, knew how quickly Bea Davenport would pounce and make life miserable for us both and my mother as well. It would be selfish of me to cause her any more trouble, and whatever poor opinion Dr. Davenport had of me would only be reinforced. The “Berlin Wall” between Ryder and me at Wyndemere would grow ten feet higher.

  Of course, it was something Ryder realized as well, and that was
why he was being careful, but he was too good at it, good at ignoring me, I thought sadly. Why was I having so much more trouble keeping my eyes off him? He had yet to throw a smile my way, let alone say anything to me. Maybe he had woken up this morning and had decided he’d be better off letting things return to the way they were. Once we had shared some of our youth, but afterward we were forced to be strangers living far apart in the area’s biggest mansion, a mansion big enough to house two different worlds, one for the privileged posh and one for my mother and me. For all I knew, his father had given him another lecture this morning, and he had made promises, promises that didn’t include me or, more to the point, excluded me.

  Weighed down with these depressing thoughts, I was dragging myself through the day and barely paying attention in class. When the bell rang to end the day, I gathered my things lethargically and drifted out like someone hypnotized to get on the school bus. The usual pattern to our lives had returned. I was back in the allotted groove carved for me the day I was born to an unwed woman.

  Ryder was heading for one of his final baseball practices, but he paused ahead of me and waited for me to reach him. I didn’t rush to join him. I was afraid of what he was about to tell me: that he had made a mistake coming to my room and encouraging my affections for him. He would say he didn’t know what he had been thinking. A loving relationship between us was really impossible. Sorry.

  “Hey.” He looked around to be sure no one was within hearing range. Then he smiled. “I’ll call you after dinner tonight and tell you about Dr. Bliskin,” he said instead. “And don’t forget about Saturday,” he added. “Rain or shine.”

  I was speechless. The smile hidden all day inside of me burst out. I trembled with glee and watched him rush off. Buoyed by his words, I hurried out to the bus with renewed energy.

  I remembered that Dr. Bliskin supposedly was coming to see me. I was very eager to see him, to hear what he had to say. Maybe he would confess, despite what my mother had said. So much darkness could be washed away in moments. I wondered what was happening now between him and my mother. Had they spent any more private time together during the day? Had they made promises to each other, maybe planned a new life for us? She had been out all night with him. It had to have meant something.

  When the school bus pulled up to my stop, I saw a car I had never seen before parked in front of the mansion. Now that it was possible that I would meet the man who obviously had excited my mother in ways I had not seen before, I was quite nervous. I walked slowly to our entrance. The sky was mostly clear, with only a puff of a cloud here and there, something when I was a little girl my mother told me was God’s breath. It felt even warmer than it had been yesterday. It was a good day to be happy. Would I be?

  Just as I was about to open the door, I saw them.

  They were walking side by side, my mother and this man, obviously coming back from the lake. They walked with their heads down, my mother’s arms folded under her breasts and him keeping his arms behind his back, sauntering along like a college professor or something. My mother stopped when she raised her head and saw me looking their way. She waved. I went into the house, dropped my books on my desk, and then checked the way I looked. My hair, once captured in a beautiful style for the prom, looked scruffy. I ran a brush through it and then decided to put on some lipstick. I heard them enter the house. My mother called to me.

  I came out of my room slowly. Dr. Bliskin and my mother were standing in the kitchen waiting for me. He wore a light-gray sports jacket and a pair of jeans with black sneakers. My mother must have been right about him not changing much, because he looked younger than I had anticipated. His dark-brown hair was a little longer and more styled than Dr. Davenport’s hair. There were no gray strands, either. He looked to be about six feet tall and fit, with broad shoulders.

  I scanned his face, searching for any features that resembled my own. He had a darker complexion and hazel-brown eyes. Unlike Dr. Davenport’s, his face was not as well chiseled. His cheeks were fuller and his forehead wider, but he had a strong-looking mouth and a firm jaw. The bridge of his nose resembled mine, just a trifle wide. I liked his smile. It looked authentic, like the smile of someone who was really happy to see me.

  “Wow,” he said. “How beautiful she turned out to be.”

  “Fern, this is Dr. Bliskin, the man who brought you into this world,” my mother said.

  I looked at her, surprised. Was she telling me this was indeed my father?

  He laughed. “I assisted, but your mother had most to do with it,” he said.

  “Can you say hello? You’re usually so talkative that we have to raise our hands to get to speak,” my mother teased.

  “I am not. Sorry,” I said, turning to him. “Hi.”

  “All right, no small talk,” he said firmly. “I want to hear all about you. Your mother was telling me you were chosen prom queen this year.”

  I looked at her, surprised again. How much did she tell him?

  “Yes. I never expected it.”

  “Modesty in a woman is quite unusual,” he joked.

  “Say men,” my mother responded.

  It was easy to see there was more than merely a friendship between them. Their story was surely fascinating, I thought. After years and years, they were together as if they never had parted.

  “How about a cool drink?” my mother offered him.

  “Just some water, please. So, Fern,” he said, sitting at the table and nodding at the seat across from him, “tell me a little about yourself.”

  “What do you want to know?”

  I sat. My mother gave him his water and offered me some. I shook my head, and she sat, too.

  “For starters, what interests you? In school, that is. What subject?”

  “I like English, literature. Some things in science fascinate me. I’m not blown away by math, but I like it when I solve a particularly difficult problem.”

  He nodded, his eyes reflecting his surprise and appreciation. Maybe I was wishing so hard for it that I made it appear, but I was sure I saw a deeper warmth in those eyes.

  “Your mother said you were a very good student. What besides subjects do you like at school? Any extracurricular activities?” he asked. He had a strong, resonant, deep voice, a voice that, like Dr. Davenport’s, expressed authority.

  “I was in a play last year. And I enjoy field hockey.”

  “At least you don’t have her into cricket,” he told my mother.

  She laughed. “I doubt she’d even know how it’s played. I was never a big fan. My father was, and my older sister likes it more than I do. Fern has a very good singing voice. She’s in chorus. She forgot to mention that.”

  “Makes sense, knowing who her mother is.”

  “Was,” my mother said.

  “You like the idea of becoming a singer?” he asked me.

  “My mother’s scared me away from it,” I said, and he laughed.

  “I never did any such thing,” she protested. “I simply described how difficult it was and my failed efforts.”

  “You have to test things for yourself, Fern. Life is full of trials and errors. Discouragement is too easy to swallow,” Dr. Bliskin said. I was sure he was being as serious as he was when he prescribed treatments or behavior to help his patients heal. “Never let someone else’s successes or defeats determine your own. People your age are always comparing themselves to each other. Look for what’s different in you, whatever sets you aside.”

  “ ‘To thine own self be true,’ ” my mother said. “She can recite it better than Helen Mirren.”

  “That so?” He sat back, looking more relaxed and informal now. “Are you sweet on the boy who took you to the prom?”

  I looked at my mother. She hadn’t told him the grisly details? “No,” I said. I turned back to my mother. Did she expect me to tell him everything? “You didn’t tell him about after the prom?”

  “I thought you should,” she said. “Dr. Bliskin might have some g
ood advice for you going forward. As I told you, he’s one of those rare doctors who treats patients, not illnesses.”

  “Your mother should work for a public relations firm.” He leaned forward. “Fill me in,” he said. “What happened after the prom?”

  I began. The thing about talking to him was that it felt easy. It was truly as though I had known him and he had known me for some time. I didn’t know whether it was his doctor’s training and experience or what, but he seemed very sincere.

  “I’m sorry this happened on what your mother tells me was your first really serious date. Drug overdoses are a major problem. I’ve even had experiences like that with my own friends,” he said, “and at medical school.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes, there were some who thought it cool to get high. They had that foolish self-confidence. Everyone’s body reacts differently to drugs. One or two got into serious trouble and were thrown out of school. They wouldn’t have made good doctors anyway. I think you’re handling the situation well. You did what you had to do, and it’s out of your hands now. Your mother’s right. Let things settle down, and eventually put it behind you. There are brighter days ahead.”

  “I think things have already settled down,” I said. “At least, it seemed that way today.”

  “Good.”

  “Where do you live now?” I asked. I thought it was my turn to be inquisitive.

  He told me, and he told me about his daughters and where they were going to college and what they each thought they would pursue.

  “Pamela is the dramatic one. She’s been on a stage since she was two, so I’m not surprised she’s going into the dramatic arts.” He looked at my mother. “You predicted that, Emma, remember?”

  “Yes, you could see the way she rolled her eyes and postured even at four. She was also a good mimic, as I recall, second nature to a good actor.”

  “Oh, she wanted your accent in the worst way,” he said. “She’d go around the house saying things like ‘Cheers’ and ‘Brilliant.’ She does concentrate on her speech. She’d love talking to you, Fern. Your mother’s rubbed off, quite clearly. In every way,” he added, glancing at her. Then he looked at his watch. “Oh, I guess Harrison’s home by now. There was no one in Wyndemere when I arrived. Bea was somewhere. I’d better go make my presence known,” he said, rising.