Rosebush (39 page)

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Authors: Michele Jaffe

BOOK: Rosebush
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Chapter 34
I stood on the
tip of the dock, marveling at the stillness. It was just after dawn, the moment when the trees around the lake looked like a silent purple wall against a sky streaked with pink and blue and lilac. The water was smooth and flat like a mirror.
There were weeds below it, long curling whips with a will of their own, I knew from my best friend Bonnie, but I thought I could deal with them.
A white bird flew across the sky, its wings pumping, and I dove into the lake, slicing through the silvery surface, delighted by the prickling of the cool water on my skin. The weeds below reached for me, some grabbing, some caressing, but I swam through them, powerful, sure strokes. I swam down, not up, down toward the bottom, down toward the face of a girl I recognized.
She smiled as she saw me and held out her hand. I reached to take it, but she shook her head. No, she seemed to be saying
.
Look. And I realized there was something in her palm, a silver chain with an object—a medallion? A coin? A key?—on it. Take it, she seemed to say.
I tried. I extended my hands toward her as far as they would go, but I couldn’t quite reach. Each time I swam closer, she seemed to recede. I pursued her as far as I could, but my lungs began to strain, then to ache.
“I’ll be back,” I tried to say to her. “Wait for me.”
I turned and began to make for the light above. Bubbles escaped my lips as I rose, sure and sleek, from the bottom. I was short on air, but I was strong, I could do this. I could see the top of the lake. I could make it.
With my last remaining breath I exploded through the surface of the water. I gulped air and felt the warmth of the sun on my skin and pushed the water from my face and saw eyes hovering over me.
Eyes full of love. Five sets of them. My mother, Joe, Annie, Loretta. And Pete.
“Welcome back, Jane,” my mom said.
“You really did play on the pro-Frisbee circuit,” I said to Pete a little later, still surprised at this revelation. “I thought you made that up.”
“You need to learn to trust me,” Pete said. We were back in room 403, only now there was a huge security detail outside to keep the press away. Apparently two suburban teen girls trying to kill each other is big news.
But not news my mother was part of. She’d forgotten to put on lipstick and her hair was slightly tousled and she looked, in my opinion, completely gorgeous and about fifteen years younger. She was in my room, alternating coming over and hugging me and smiling and saying how much she loved me and collapsing into chairs and bursting into sobs.
“I’m so sorry I let them keep you in that locked ward,” she said, holding on to me as though for dear life. “I—I was just so afraid I wasn’t thinking straight. They said it was the best thing and even though I didn’t agree, I thought, who am I to argue? But I know better now. I know my daughter better than any doctor. I should have listened to you.”
“We can unknot anything if we work together,” I said. There was a flash of recognition in her eyes.
“You remember that?”
“I remember everything, Mommy.”
We hugged for a long time after that.
But when the heaviest of the emotional baggage had been unpacked, she was left without anything to run, and she didn’t know what to do with herself. Finally, after she’d tried to reorganize the nursing station for the third time and Loretta had sent her back into my room with orders to keep her there Or Else, I gave up.
“Look, Mom, you have to stop pacing around like this. You’re going to drive me crazy.”
“At least this time we’ll know it’s genuine,” she said. And started giggling.
Joe turned to me. “I think your mom just made a joke.”
“I think you might be right.”
“She might need a little practice, huh?” he asked, his eyes twinkling.
“She might need a remedial course.”
“I thought it was good,” Annie said.
The two largest members of the security detail were sitting outside my room now, one of them drinking Gatorade and the other Tab. Apparently Joe had decided to get some of his guys to watch my room even though my mother didn’t take the threats seriously because, as he put it, “I love your mother, I do, but she was so scared of losing you, she wasn’t thinking right. I saw everything she saw and I had to say, you didn’t seem nuts to me.”
“Thank you,” I told him. I said it again when he introduced me to Bruno and Lou.
“Don’t thank us, miss, we wouldn’t have stopped that little number if we’d seen her coming at you. Useless is what we would’ve been.”
“I’m still glad to know you were there.”
It was true. No one would have thought Langley would turn out to be psychotic. I was pretty sure she wouldn’t have a hard time talking herself out of the maximum-security psychiatric facility her grandparents had installed her in before the police could question her. No one would believe she was guilty. No one except Pete. Pete was the one who had pieced it all together in time to warn Loretta not to use the syringe in the room to revive me.
“Why did you believe me? That I wasn’t crazy? No one else did,” I pointed out. I had his hand in mine and was tracing one of the lines of his palm with my finger.
“Joe did.”
“Okay. But why did you? I wasn’t even sure I was sane.”
There was no mockery, no irony, no sarcasm in his voice when he said, “Maybe I have more faith in you than you do.”
Gulp.
He nudged his nose against mine so our foreheads were touching. “Plus I thought I’d take my chances since no one else was bothering. The way I saw it, if you were right, then one of your friends was out to get you and all we had to do was figure out which one. And then it was easy.”
“Easy? How?”
He shrugged. “I just needed to figure out who was left handed.”
I pulled away to stare at him. “Okay, Nancy Drew.”
“It was what you kept saying about that ring. When we saw the picture in Elsa’s room where you weren’t wearing it, I realized that the killer had probably put it on you after you were hit. If you wore a ring and you were slipping an identical ring onto someone’s hand, which finger would you be most likely to put it on?”
“Whatever finger
I
wore it on normally.”
“Bingo.”
“So it ended up on my right hand—”
“—because that’s where the killer wore her ring. I just had to figure out who wore it on their right hand. I threw in the lefty part to make it sound more Sherlock Holmes.”
I was incredulous. “But Mr. Holmes, you never even met my friends. How did you know who was a lefty?”
“Remember that first day, you told me to watch the DVD Kate and Langley made you so I would see how popular you were?”
I groaned. “Yes.”
“I did.” He raised his eyebrows. “Twice.”
“I’m going to regret having told you to do that, aren’t I?”
He nodded somberly. “Oh yes.”
I laughed. “I can’t wait. But really, you figured it all out because of the ring?”
“Mm-hmmm.” He dragged the word out. “Okay, fine. That, and you gave me a pretty good hint when you had Ruben ask me about conversational hit men. Made me think you were trying to tell me that the first person in had just been a decoy to open the way for the real-kill shot.” He smirked, coming clean now. “Especially when the DVD helped me identify Ollie and Langley as the two people I’d seen making out in the stairwell that day. I figured they had a lot of secrets and might be working together for all kinds of nefarious purposes.”
“I guessed it was more complicated than a ring.”
“That DVD came in really handy. It helped me solve the crime
and
stop the killer.”
“Stop the—” That’s when I got it. The silver disc that had flown through the air and hit Langley just before I passed out. “
That’s
what you threw at her head!”
“I was on my way back from watching it in the lounge when I figured everything out, so it was the only thing I had in my hand. But it seems like perfect justice, doesn’t it? Popularity can be a real headache.”
“It certainly can.”
I looked toward the window of my room. There were no flowers or cards or presents there anymore. I hadn’t realized how much they’d been blocking the view.
In fact, I was aware that there was a lot I hadn’t been seeing, blinded by my own insecurities and guilt. But not anymore. Now I was going to have my eyes wide open.
Suddenly I remembered the medallion from the dream I’d just woken from—remembered I’d seen it the night of Bonnie’s death. It had been clutched in her hand. But it wasn’t hers. There was more to that night than I’d realized. And I owed it to Bonnie’s family to help them find the truth.
But right now, there were things right in front of me that deserved a long look.
My eyes went to Pete and he smiled, the one with the crinkles around his eyes and the lines next to his mouth. He looked like a happy little kid as he stretched out a hand to smooth my forehead.
“Stop fretting, beautiful.”
“I’m not fretting.” I reached out to toy with the pearl buttons on his shirt. “I just wish—I feel like I’ve been myopic. I should have figured this out before.”
“You knew the answer all along if you had just trusted your instincts.”
“Yeah. I need to work on that.” My eyes moved from the buttons to his lips, then his nose, finally resting on his eyes. “Do you think you could be my teacher?”
“Oh no. Absolutely not.”
That wasn’t the answer I’d expected. “Why?”
“I don’t want to teach. I’d rather
do
.”
“Do what?”
“This.”
This
was not like anything I’d ever experienced before.
“Look, everyone, Jane is kissing Pete! That’s the third boy she’s kissed this week.”
“Is that true?” Pete said, pulling away to look at me.
“Purely medicinal,” I said solemnly.
“I think your sister just made a joke,” he told Annie.
“She should take lessons from Mom.”
I started walking again the next day.
Afterword
The image is
a mess.
It’s the time of day just before sunset, when colors are at their richest. The sky is a deep mellow blue, the sea below it indigo. A red-and-white-striped tent stands on a greensward extending toward the ocean. Beneath it long tables covered in brightly colored floral cloths hold the skeleton of what had been a feast. There are beleaguered-looking flowers and crumpled napkins and plates covered in rainbow frosting everywhere. The remains of a cake list perilously to one side next to a huge silver urn with condensation running down its sides and an open bottle of Dom Pérignon poking out the top. On the left a little girl is showing a boy a snail she’s trapped in a peanut-butter jar. On the right four large men who have shed their jackets are playing poker and smoking cigars and drinking beer, although one of them has a bottle of Gatorade in front of him too. In the foreground Rosalind Freeman, in a blue sundress she would have sworn was too young for her but that her daughters made her buy, with her hair swept off her face, is gazing up at her new husband, Joe Garcetti, with an expression of wonder and joy.

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