First Frost (27 page)

“Listen, tree, you better bloom tonight,” he said to it. “They've had enough.”

*   *   *

Claire woke up on Halloween morning with a deep breath, as if floating out from under water. She didn't remember what she'd been dreaming of, only that it was cold and sweet. The sun was just rising, and she knew, knew before she even looked outside, that the first frost of the season had finally arrived. She got out of bed, careful not to disturb Tyler, sleeping on his stomach and probably dreaming of warm things like embers and cocoa. She pulled on her nightgown, which had been on the floor, then put on her slippers. As she left, she grabbed Tyler's blazer where it was hooked over the door.

She walked through the house, through the darkened kitchen, onto the back porch. Sure enough, icy stars were covering her van, and a fine layer of crystals made the bare honeysuckle vines covering the gate shimmer.

Her breath formed clouds in front of her as she hurried across the driveway to the garden gate. The neighborhood was quiet in that way only the cold could make it, as if freezing sounds before they hit the ground.

She fumbled for the key in the vines, her hands shaking. First frost was always exciting, but this year it meant even more, this season, this renewal. There was some small part of her that was almost afraid it wouldn't happen this year, that there was no more magic, that it was never really hers to begin with.

She slowly opened the gate, holding her breath.

There, at the back of the lot, the tree was in full bloom. Tiny white flowers had burst onto its branches, turning it from bare to lush overnight. The tree was shaking as if in celebration, and white petals floated to the ground in waves, making a sound like pouring sand. Already, the garden was covered in white, like snow. Claire walked in, her palms up, and caught some petals in her hand. She walked all the way across the garden, up to the tree, petals now sticking in her hair.

“Welcome back,” she said.

“Mom?” she heard from the garden gate. Claire turned and saw her sleepy daughter had followed her. Mariah was standing at the gate in her nightgown, her hair a tangled mess of curls. She was Tyler made over.

Claire walked back to her and put an arm around her. She rubbed her shoulder to warm her.

“The tree finally bloomed,” Mariah said.

“It did. Just in time.”

Mariah smiled. “It's beautiful.”

They watched the tree for a while, which it enjoyed. The blossoms began to accumulate on the ground. “I love you,” Claire said softly to Mariah, putting her lips to her daughter's head and speaking into her hair, making her scalp warm. “You know that, don't you? For all the wonderful things you are, for all the wonderful things you're going to be.”

“I know,” Mariah said.

“Do you want to hang out with me in the kitchen today?” She now rested her cheek on her daughter's head. “I know you don't like cooking. But we could spend some time together.”

Mariah pulled back. “I don't like cooking, but I love spending time with you! I just get in your way when you're making candy.”

“Oh, baby. No, you don't. I was in my own way. It had nothing to do with you. Come on,” Claire said, leading her out of the garden. “There's a first frost party to prepare for! We have to call everyone, too.”

Tyler got up and started raking the footpaths in the garden, which had to be done every hour because the blossoms kept piling up. He would come in periodically for food and drink, blossoms covering his hair and jacket, and sometimes he'd have a small scratch on his face from when he'd gotten too close to the tree and it would reach out one of its limbs and hit him.

Bay showed up after Claire had called Sydney with a grocery list. Bay lugged in the bags and boxes of food and said her mom had dropped her off because she had a small errand to run, but that she'd be there soon to help out.

Buster arrived a short time later, looking groggy and confused.

“I never work on Saturdays. What is this?” he asked, looking around at all the food littering the countertops, where candy usually was. “Am I dreaming? I am, aren't I? I'm dreaming.”

Claire had called him to help with the party preparations, but also because he deserved to know. “This is first frost,” Claire said. “I'm quitting the candy business and focusing on my catering again. I thought you should know.”

“It's about damn time,” he said. “Who knew you could do all this?”

Claire smiled and looked around the kitchen. “My grandmother Mary.”

 

15

Dear Josh,

I know we've never talked before, but you probably know who I am already. I'm Bay Waverley, the girl who knows where everything belongs. Nice title, huh? It makes me sound like a neat freak. Which I am, a little. But that's another story.

Anyway, have you ever had the feeling that you were waiting for something? I have. I feel that way all the time. I feel like I'm always waiting for things to fall into place, to fall where they belong, so I can finally take a deep breath. When I saw you in the hallway on the first day of school, I got that feeling. I don't know how, or why, but I know I belong with you in some way. I just wanted you to know. I'm not going to hang around you and demand your attention. I don't expect anything from you. But we spend all our lives looking for puzzle pieces that will give us a clearer picture of ourselves, of where we're supposed to go and who we're supposed to be. And I found you. I can't explain what a relief it is. Isn't it a relief? Out of everything uncertain in our lives, at least we know this. I'll be here for you if you ever need me. I'll be waiting outside on the school steps in the afternoons for as long as I can, if you want to talk.

Sincerely yours,

Bay

Josh had read the note so many times that the fold creases were getting thin and were about to tear. He was lying in his bedroom, which was still decorated in that pretentious way his mother had designed when he was younger: white clapboard bed frame, nautical blue-striped comforter, the large letter
J
above his bed. If it weren't for his messy computer desk and the soccer posters and trophies, it would look like something you'd see in a real estate listing.

You probably know who I am already.

Of course he already knew her. Josh had been given the “Don't Even Consider Her an Option” speech a long time ago. First from his mom, then from his dad, who didn't know his mom had already said something. So, yeah, he got it. Mattesons don't mix well with Waverleys. Like glue and ketchup, his dad, the king of bad similes, had said.

All his life he'd seen her around town, her hair as dark as storm clouds, always flowing behind her because she always seemed to be running. But he kept his distance, and Bay never seemed to notice him, not until her first day of high school. And then she had to blow everything out of the water with this note.

He'd told her more about his unhappiness than he'd ever told anyone. He couldn't believe he told her he went to bed at nine o'clock. But she didn't seem to mind. She was just so calm. Sitting next to her, the world kind of made more sense. Don't go to Notre Dame. Don't go into business with your father. Go to work at the soccer arena in Hickory if you want to. But don't define yourself by what you
don't
want to do. Define it by what you do want to do.

Was this why his parents didn't want him associating with a Waverley? Because they made you believe there really was a choice? Because they could bewitch you into thinking you could be happy?

He wished he could stay away. He knew that's what his parents would want him to do. But his parents weren't here. They were visiting Josh's brother Peyton at college, then they were going on an anniversary cruise. They were going to be gone for a whole month. They never would have left Josh's brother Peyton home alone. And proudly so. Peyton was rowdy and popular—not popular like Josh—
king-of-the-world
popular. If their parents had gone away for a month when Peyton had been in high school, Peyton would have thrown parties and broken into the liquor cabinet and gotten two hundred girls knocked up (his words). Their parents always called Josh the more responsible one. That irked him. It always had. His brother, who was tall with their father's broad shoulders, once held him down in the grass on their back lawn and kept calling him “Mama's Pretty Boy.” “Mama's Pretty Boy does everything he's told. Mama's Pretty Boy should be in a boy band, shouldn't you, Mama's Pretty Boy?”

Peyton had matured a lot since going off to college, but they still weren't exactly friends. In fact, sometimes it seemed Peyton knew exactly what he was doing when, instead of going to Notre Dame like their grandfather, he went to Georgia Tech. And instead of studying business and taking over Matteson Enterprises like their father wanted him to, he was going to law school next year. He knew he didn't have to do it, because Josh would.

It was all just assumed, and Josh had gone along with it, until he'd interned at Matteson Enterprises over the summer. He'd been miserable. The offices had no windows. And, for the first time, it occurred to him how crazy it was that they were constructing
entire houses
inside a plant. It might have been different if they built houses the traditional way, out in the sun. But this was so … industrial. Everyone walked around with their pale, industrial skin. He couldn't breathe. The entire summer, he couldn't catch his breath.

There was a knock on his bedroom door. Josh hid the note under his pillow as Joanne, their longtime housekeeper, poked her head in. Her hair had turned gray over the past few years, but it was still straight and unmovable. Josh and Peyton used to think she used furniture lacquer on it.

“There's someone at the front door for you,” Joanne said.

“Who is it?”

Joanne wrinkled her nose. “A Waverley.”

Josh got up quickly and ran past Joanne and down the staircase. He slid in his socks on the marble floor as he reached the front door and opened it.

Bay's mother was standing there.

She was wearing jeans and shearling-lined loafers that looked like slippers. Her hair was down and sparkled with odd red highlights in the cool morning sun.

“Mrs. Hopkins,” Josh said.

“Call me Sydney,” she said, not smiling.

He opened the door wider. “Come in.”

“No, thank you.” She took a step back and said, “Why don't you come out?”

Josh stepped out in his stocking feet, closing the door on Joanne, who was at the top of the staircase, frowning at him. “What are you doing here?”

Sydney put her hands into the pockets of her short plaid trench coat. “I don't know you, Josh. I don't know anything about you. I just know your dad and your mom from our high school days. And, I admit, what I think of them clouds what I think of you. Your dad hurt me in a way that I didn't need to be hurt. That's not going to happen to my daughter.” She looked out over the wide front lawn, the grass still bright green and now free of leaves. The lawn management company had come by yesterday and cleared the whole neighborhood because today was Halloween and no one wanted trick-or-treaters falling in rich neighborhoods and suing people. Because how inconvenient would that be? “Bay doesn't fit into your world any more than I did. So don't even try to make that happen.”

“I don't want to hurt Bay,” Josh said, meaning it. He didn't. That had never been his intention.

“I believe that,” she said, still looking out over the lawn. “I really do.”

He found himself staring at Sydney, seeing so much of Bay in her. They had the same intense blue eyes, like something forged in flame. Sydney had seen more, though. Her eyes were narrower, more skeptical. Josh's mother had never liked Sydney. His mother was jealous of anyone who took any of his father's time or occupied any of his thoughts. His dad was her entire world. If she was in the middle of talking to Josh and his dad came home, she would stop midsentence and go to him, as if waves had swept her to sea. And his dad loved it, loved it the way his brother Peyton loved being king of the world. This was what men in his family did. They held court and they broke hearts and they didn't care. Bay was sweet and kind, and too young to be hurt in a way she would carry around with her years later, like her mother. She had her whole life ahead of her. An extraordinary life, he was sure of it. Josh had just been playing with the ideas she'd put in his head. He'd never really taken them seriously. Maybe he was a true Matteson, after all, with his selfish dalliances. There was no getting out of what he should do. He was eighteen now. It was time to man up, as his father would say.

“I won't see her again. I promise.”

That made Sydney laugh. She turned to him and said, “Oh, don't be so melodramatic. Not seeing her again would just make everyone miserable. Including me and her father.”

“I don't understand.” Josh folded his arms over his chest in the chill. He was only wearing his practice shorts and a T-shirt.

“I can't make your decisions for you. And I can't make you or my daughter learn from my mistakes. What I can do is give you an option. There's another choice you can make. One your father never even considered. But you might.”

“What choice is that?”

“Bay can't live in your world. But you can live in hers. If you decide you want to, then come to our first-frost party this afternoon in the Waverley garden. We're an odd family, but we're close. You're welcome to join us.” She patted his shoulder. “Now, go inside before you freeze.”

He watched her walk to her Mini Cooper. Before she got inside, Josh called, “Sydney? What made you decide to come out here?”

“There's not a lot I can fix for her anymore. Her Band-Aid and bedtime story days are almost over. This, I can fix with a simple
Welcome.
”