Becca didn’t see Diana and her dogs until she was unlocking her bike. At that point, Diana emerged from the trees, coming from Wood Nymph Way, which was not across the meadow but rather just to the west of Saratoga Road. It led through the forest in an entirely different direction from the trails from the meadow.
Diana said, “Hello, girl with bike,” as the dogs began to circle Becca, bumping into her in their usual pack greeting. “This is becoming something of a tradition. You, the bike, the dogs, me, the truck . . . Are you coming or going?”
“Going,” Becca said.
“Would you like a ride back to town?”
Becca said that she would and, as before, Diana lifted the bike into the bed of the pickup. Once everyone was in his proper place, they set off for town.
Diana said, “Debbie tells me you’re back at the motel,” and when Becca wondered about this, Diana added, “We’ve had coffee a few times, Debbie and I. Want me to drive you there? To the motel, I mean.”
Becca said yes, that would be fine, and Diana added that she needed to make a stop first at the cemetery. She wanted to check on a corkscrew willow that she’d planted to shelter both Charlie’s grave and the concrete bench that was part of it. Becca was agreeable to this. She hadn’t been to Reese’s grave recently. It would be good to clear from it whatever dead leaves had blown there.
When Diana parked the truck, she let the dogs out for a run. Becca walked across the lawn to Reese’s grave while Diana strode to Charlie’s, where the willow made a pretty sight at one end of the bench.
At Reese’s grave, Becca dropped to her knees. The lawn was damp from recent rains, and the fallen leaves were sodden. She began to gather them and when she got to the stone, she noticed something with a rush of surprise and pleasure. Reese’s mildewed picture had been replaced with another. It was a school picture of her, grinning happily, and it was protected on the stone with a new cover of Plexiglas, sealed properly. Only one person could have done this, Becca thought. When she looked around, she saw her.
Debbie Grieder had seemed to materialize out of nowhere. She was sitting next to Diana on the bench at Charlie’s grave as if they’d intended to meet each other all along. Diana had her arm around Debbie’s shoulder. They were speaking.
As Becca watched them, Debbie rose. She turned and came toward Reese’s grave. In her hands, she carried a pot of chrysanthemums, brilliantly yellow against the black fleece that she was wearing.
She lowered herself to her knees next to Becca. Together they looked at Reese’s grave.
Now
. . .
hurts
. . .
making you free I don’t believe
came from Debbie. What she said, though, was, “I appreciate how you fixed her grave, Becca.”
“It seemed sort of lonely.”
“It was good of you to do it. You’ve done a lot of good things. I couldn’t see that at first but I see it now.”
“Oh. Gosh.” Becca wasn’t sure what else to say. She had the feeling that Debbie wanted to tell her something, but she didn’t know how to encourage her.
Debbie, though, didn’t need encouragement. She said, “Ms. Ward hit her when she was riding her bike on Langley Road. That part of what I told you was true. The part that was a lie was whose fault it was.”
Becca was silent. She knew something big was coming. She hardly dared to breathe because she also knew that, somehow, it was important that Debbie finished what she had to say.
“I was dead drunk,” Debbie said. “I was coming down the stairs. I fell and hit my head and sliced it open. That’s what this scar is.” She pointed to the jagged route across her forehead. “There was blood everywhere. Reese wanted to call nine-one-one, but I screamed at her no. The last thing I wanted was for
anyone
to see. But she was afraid because of the blood. So she got on her bike and she set out to find Sean because I was screaming ‘No ambulance’ and she didn’t know what else to do. I guess I said ‘Get Sean for God’s sake’ and because she was a good girl, she wanted to help me. She was on Langley Road and she was in a panic because for all she knew her mother was going to bleed to death before she could find her brother. A deer jumped out and she wasn’t prepared. She swerved, right into Ms. Ward’s path. And that’s how she died.”
Becca said, “Oh gosh. I’m so sorry.”
Sorry isn’t
. . .
it won’t
. . .
past returning
came to her along with the power of Debbie Grieder’s sorrow. Debbie said to her, “You don’t ever pay for a crime like that. You live with it, but you never pay.” She reached out and touched Reese’s name on the gravestone. She said, “I couldn’t come here. I couldn’t face looking at her picture and knowing I was the person who’d trampled the light of her and had made it go out. People say to me that her death made me finally stop drinking so some good came out of it. What I say is I’d drink myself into the grave if it would only bring my little girl back.”
“That makes sense,” Becca said. “I think both parts of it make sense.”
Debbie rested back on her heels and gazed at Becca. She said, “Outside of my AA meetings, I’ve never told anyone that story. Everyone probably knows, but no one says anything to me about it. So what kind of almost-fifteen-year-old fairy are you, Becca King, that I’d talk to you about all this?”
“I’m just some kid you decided to help,” Becca told her. “Because, I think, that’s what you do.”
“I suppose,” Debbie said. “You want to go back to the motel together?”
Becca nodded. “I’d like that a bunch.”
Epilogue
It was three weeks later when Hayley Cartwright stopped Becca on her way to her English class. She said, “Seth’s playing jazz tonight with his trio. Over at Prima Bistro. Want to go?” Hayley added with an impish smile, “Derric’s going, by the way. I’m picking him up. You in?”
Becca thought about this. Seeing Derric outside of school and outside of his get-togethers with Josh would be great, but she hesitated. Mostly it was a safety issue. She was becoming more comfortable out and about on the island, but always in the back of her mind lingered Laurel’s warnings about keeping her head low. Still, Prima Bistro seemed secure enough. It wasn’t out in the open. It sat on First Street up above the Star Store, a small restaurant and bar where local musicians played in the evenings. At this time of year, only Langley people went to the place. Tourists were long gone, and they wouldn’t be back till Memorial Day.
She said, “I’m in.”
“Pick you up at seven-thirty, then.”
Becca was ready. She’d found a pair of jeans at the thrift store, along with a top and a hip-length cardigan. She threw on a belt and borrowed a scarf from Debbie. She looked okay, she thought, aside from the glasses and the hair. She eased up on the makeup for the evening. A little compromise wouldn’t kill anyone, she figured.
Derric was in the Cartwrights’ farm pickup waiting when Becca dashed through the rain to it. He flashed that smile of his and patted the seat. “Put it here,” he told her as he scooted over.
“You’ll have to share the seat belt,” Hayley told them.
“Not a problem,” Derric said, and put his arm around Becca to fit them both in.
Becca saw Hayley’s small smile. What a matchmaker, she thought. But she didn’t mind. She liked the feeling of Derric’s arm around her. She liked the feeling of his hip pressed close to hers.
“How’s the leg?” she asked him, tapping on the cast.
“Hurts some,” he said. “I guess it’s getting better.”
They took off. It was a very short jaunt into town, and Becca knew she could have walked it. Hayley knew it, too, and so did Derric. But Hayley, it seemed, had plans for them.
She’d reserved a table. It wasn’t one close to the spot set aside for the evening’s musicians, though. Instead it was tucked into a corner, where the only light came from a single candle. “Wow, pretty romantic,” she said. “You two take the far side. I’m sitting here.”
Sitting here
meant sitting with her back to them and her front facing the musicians. It was logical, considering that Seth and the two other young men of the trio were taking their places to start playing. But it was also obvious, and Becca grew hot with embarrassment.
Derric, however, said, “Cool. Thanks, Hayley,” and when he and Becca sat, he moved his chair close to hers and said, “This is great. I haven’t been out of the house except to go to school. That chick Courtney—she leads the Bible study group?—she keeps asking me to come to their meetings, but I’m not much for the Bible. This is better.”
“Yeah. Me neither,” Becca said. “The Bible I mean.” Then she didn’t know what else to say. She wanted to ask him questions about his letters to Rejoice, about whether he’d told his parents about her. But she had the feeling that the magic of the evening would be spoiled somehow if she asked about his sister, so she said nothing. Those questions could wait.
Seth and the other members of the trio began to play. As she had been the day she’d heard them rehearsing at South Whidbey Commons, Becca was at once engaged by the gypsy jazz. She watched the musicians’ fingers moving on the strings with a speed that looked nearly impossible to her. Seth was amazing on guitar, she thought.
She looked at Derric. He was smiling at her. “Pretty cool, huh?” he said. “Next September I’ll take you to the festival. There’s gypsy jazz all over town. Seth’ll probably be performing.”
The idea of
next September
warmed Becca throughout. For a moment, even, she forgot about Laurel, about British Columbia and the town of Nelson, where her mom was setting up their home. It was enough to think of
next September
and being with Derric. They’d listen to the music together. They’d sit shoulder to shoulder, hand in hand.
He took hers, as if sharing her thought. He twined his fingers with hers, leaned over, and said, “Thanks.”
She looked at him. “What for?”
“Everything.” He kissed her.
The softest lips, the sweetest breath, she thought. She wanted the kiss and the evening to go on forever.
“Think Mrs. Grieder’ll care if you come over for Thanksgiving dinner?” he asked her, close to her mouth, so close that she wanted him to kiss her again. Which he did when Becca said Mrs. Grieder wouldn’t mind at all. And then he added with a smile, “What about Christmas?”
Becca felt light-headed. It was a special moment, and she promised herself she would never forget it.
SHE HELD ON
to all of it when Seth took her home later. That had been the sensible way to arrange things. Derric and Hayley lived in the same direction, after all. And four people could not fit into Hayley’s truck. So Becca and Derric had parted with a long look at each other and a longer smile. Then Becca climbed into Sammy and patted the ever-present Gus, who roused himself from sleep in the VW’s backseat. She said to Seth, “You were great.”
Seth smiled and asked, “Were you guys even listening? Didn’t look that way to me.”
Becca felt herself blush. “You can kiss and listen at the same time, you know.”
“Whoa,” Seth teased, “too much information!”
He put the car into gear. He honked a couple of times at people he knew who were also leaving the bistro, and he pulled out into Second Street for the quick jaunt over to the Cliff Motel.
“You like him, huh?” he said to Becca.
“I like him a lot,” Becca said.
“Ready to fight half the chicks at South Whidbey High School for him?”
“I guess I am.”
“Even the cheerleaders?”
“Rah rah rah,” Becca said.
Seth chuckled. They made the turn into Cascade Street and zipped along the bluff high above the water. Soon enough they were in front of the motel and Seth was preparing to pull into its parking lot.
At that moment, Becca’s life crashed shut.
A man was getting out of a car in front of the motel. There was something familiar . . . a set to his shoulders . . . the shape of his head . . . He turned to glance in the direction of Seth’s VW. Becca saw him clearly. She cried out.
“Seth! Turn around!”
Seth said, “What the heck . . . ?” and then saw the man himself. “Oh hell,” he breathed. “That’s
him
? The guy—”