The Perfect Comeback of Caroline Jacobs (15 page)

Caroline put her arm around her friend and pulled her close. Emily sobbed for a solid minute until, with great resolve, she took a few deep breaths, straightened her back and wiped her face with her palms. “The girls will be back soon,” she said. “I don't want Jane to see me like this. The kids don't know.”

“Okay,” Caroline said.

Emily sighed. “I haven't told anyone about it. You're the only one. It's just so humiliating.”

“Is Randy okay?” Caroline asked.

“No, he's not okay,” Emily said. “He's texting some girl ten years younger than me a hundred times a day. We have kids, for Christ's sake. What the hell is he thinking?”

“No, I mean his hands. Are his hands okay?”

Emily smiled a little. “Sorry. Yes, they're fine.”

“You have some on your shirt,” she said, pointing to Emily's blouse. “And your pants, too.”

“Damn it. I'd better change.

As Emily stood to leave the room, Randy reentered. He offered Caroline a sheepish smile. “I'm fine. Just a couple small cuts. Thanks for the help.”

“I told her the truth,” Emily said.

Caroline wished she could slink beneath the couch cushions and disappear.

“I got blood on my shirt,” Emily said. “I have to change.”

“Okay,” Randy said.

Randy waited until Emily had left the room before sitting down in a chair opposite Caroline. “I'm sorry about this,” he said. “Not exactly what you expected when you decided to pay your childhood friend a visit.”

“You believe me, then,” Caroline said.

“Yes. I actually remember you now. If I had taken half a second to use my brain, I would've recognized you. It's just—it's been a tough few weeks. And I can be an idiot sometimes.”

“It's all right. I'm just glad you're okay.”

“Thanks,” he said, taking a seat on a chair opposite her. “So tell me, why are you back in Blackstone? Is your family still here?

“My mom still lives here,” Caroline said, feeling more uncomfortable by the moment. She had come with the intention of destroying a woman and now she felt as if she was betraying her by talking to her possibly unfaithful husband. “Maybe I should go,” Caroline said. “The girls are probably on their way back. I could pick up Polly and drive Jane home if you'd like.”

“No, I should go,” Randy said. “You and Emily haven't seen each other in years. Don't let me ruin your visit any more than I already have.”

“It's fine. I think you and Emily have more important things to talk about anyway.”

“I think we're all talked out, to be honest.”

At that moment, the front door opened. Jane and Polly entered, sipping sodas.

“We're back!” Jane said.

“Hi, Mom,” Polly said, sounding a little too normal for Caroline's liking.

Caroline took the opportunity to stand, hoping to use this change in position as the momentum she needed to affect a graceful exit. “Hi, girls,” she said. “Did you have a good time?”

“We did,” Polly said. “It was loads of fun.”

Now Caroline knew that something was up.

“Yeah, we had a good time,” Jane said. “Hey Mom, what are we doing for dinner tonight?”

“I hadn't thought about it yet,” Emily said. She had reentered the room. Caroline wondered how long she had been standing there.

“Perfect,” Jane said. “Polly's grandmother invited us over for dinner. You knew her when you were a kid, too. Right?”

“I did,” Emily said. “But I haven't seen her in years.”

“That's why my nana invited you to dinner,” Polly explained. “She wants to see you. Catch up on old times.”

“Catch up on old times?” Caroline said, more to herself than anyone in the room.

“She's the lady who owns the pet cemetery,” Jane added. “The one on Main Street. I've always wanted to see it, but Dad made me bury Mr. Wiggins in the woods. Remember?”

“I remember,” Emily said, turning to Caroline. “I didn't know that was your mother.”

“Nana invited Emily and Jane over for dinner?” Caroline asked. She couldn't imagine a scenario in which her mother would do such a thing.

“Jane's dad and brother, too,” Polly added. “The whole family.”

At his mention, Randy Labonte rose. “Hi, I'm Randy,” he said, holding his hand out to Polly. “Mr. Labonte, I guess, to you.”

“Hi, I'm Polly. Nice to meet you, Mr. Labonte. Can you come for dinner, too?” she asked.

“I don't see why not,” Randy said.

“What happened to the door?” Jane asked, pointing in that direction.

“A little accident,” Emily said.

“Everythink okay?” Jane asked warily.

“A-okay, muffin,” Emily said. “Everything's fine. Just fine.”

“Nana really invited Emily and her family over for dinner?” Caroline said.

“Yes,” Polly said, sounding annoyed. “Six o'clock. Barbecue chicken. It's going to be a blast. Nothing better than sharing a meal with old friends and new friends. Right, Mom?”

Now Caroline knew that something was up.

sixteen

As soon as they were back in the car and moving, Polly removed her phone from her pocket.

“Don't you want to know how it went?” Caroline asked.

She planned on lying to Polly. She would tell her that harsh words had been exchanged, an apology had been offered, and it was now all water under the bridge. She had no desire to share Emily and Randy Labonte's marital struggles with her daughter, nor did she want to be chastised by Polly for failing in her mission.

“Hi, Nana,” Polly said, her face pressed against the phone. “I hope you don't mind, but I invited Mom's friend Emily and her family over for dinner tonight.”

“She doesn't know?” Caroline said.

“Yeah. Can you make barbecue chicken?” A pause, and then Polly said, “Exactly.” Another pause and then, “I'll let her tell you. Thanks, Nana. I'll see you soon. Bye!”

“You invited them for dinner?” Caroline said. “What were you thinking?”

“I was thinking that after those oatmeal-raisin cookies, there was no way you were going to tell Emily off. If I didn't force the two of you together again, it might never happen.”

Caroline pulled the car over to the side of the road, skidding to a halt on the gravel shoulder. “You had no right to do that.”

“I had every right,” Polly said. “Isn't that the whole reason you dragged me here in the first place?”

“Inviting Emily over for dinner was not your job. Lying to me was not your job.”

“Well, maybe if you had done your job, I wouldn't have had to do mine.”

“It's not that simple,” Caroline said.

“Yes, it is. I'm not saying it's easy, but it is simple. You just have to speak up for once in your life.”

That hit Caroline like a spear through the heart.

“I know you were trying to help, and I know I asked for your help, but it's never okay to lie. It wasn't fair to me or Emily or Nana.”

“Give me break,” Polly said.

“What?”

“For a second there, I thought we were going to have an actual conversation. But then you switched right back into bullshit mode.”

“That's not bullshit mode,” Caroline said. “It's responsible mode. It's parent mode.”

“No, Mom, it's bullshit mode. You don't have a parent mode. You have hide-under-a-rock mode and pray-things-get-better mode, but you don't have anything close to parent mode. Just because you're my mom doesn't mean we can't have an actual conversation about real things, except you can never do that.”

“Are you kidding me? Every time I try to talk to you, you push me away. Or walk away.”

“That's because you never have anything to say. It's like you're on some loser TV show pretending to be a mom instead just being an actual person. These past two days have been the most real I've ever seen you in my life. I was pissed at you for letting Grace Dinali ambush me in chemistry, but at least you stood up to her mother. It was like the first time you ever went off script.”

“You're my daughter,” Caroline said. “Not my friend.”

“No, because you don't have any friends. You have Wendy, who lives on the other side of the country, and that's it. No wonder why that bitch kicked you out of her table.”

“I can't believe you would throw that back at me.” Caroline's voice was trembling.

“Whatever,” Polly said, and threw open the car door.

“What are you doing?”

“Walking away. Like you said I do.” Polly slammed the car door and started walking down the hill back in the direction of the high school.

Caroline opened the door and stepped out onto the gravel. “You're going to walk all the way back to Grandma's house?”

“I know the way,” Polly said, not bothering to look back.

“Polly, it's like five miles away. Get back in the car.”

Polly said nothing. A second later, she pressed her phone against her ear and began talking.

Caroline waited another minute and then climbed back into the car. She watched as Polly crested the top of a gentle slope and then disappeared like the setting sun. When she could no longer see her daughter, she turned the car around and headed in the opposite direction.

 

 

Caroline did not intentionally drive to the intersection of Summer and Federal streets, but she found herself there just the same.

It took less than five minutes.

Heading south on Summer Street past a long line of nearly identical split-level homes, Caroline pulled the car alongside the road, coming to a stop on a grassy shoulder fifty feet from where the two roads met. Summer and Federal streets joined at a three-way intersection, with Federal connecting to Summer at a not quite ninety-degree angle. Drivers heading south (in the direction that Caroline was now facing) would have to make a hard right turn onto Federal. But if they were traveling north on Summer, they would be able to make a more gradual turn, bearing left onto Federal Street unless there was oncoming traffic, which was exactly what Caroline had been doing on her bike that day so long ago.

She and Lucy had been pedaling north, hoping to arrive home in time for lunch. Caroline was maybe fifty feet ahead of her younger sister, who had fallen behind on the last hill. As she approached the turn onto Federal Street, she peered over her shoulder to check for oncoming traffic. She saw Lucy, her Laura Ingalls braids bobbing in rhythm as she stood atop her pedals, pumping hard to catch up with her big sister. Her cheeks were flushed, her face was streaked with sweat, but she was smiling as she caught Caroline's eye. She was happy. She was coming to the end of an adventure with her big sister.

Caroline saw the yellow van cresting the far hill, a golden speck on the horizon. Plenty of time to bear left onto Federal Street before the van caught up to her, and so she did, twisting her handlebars and leaning into the turn.

She was pedaling up a slight incline when she heard the thump and then the screech of tires, in that order. Thump then screech. An order that would come to mean so much to policemen and lawyers and a stranger who would be a stranger no longer.

Investigators would later say that Lucy had probably not seen the yellow van, which would eventually become
the speeding yellow van,
when she crossed over to Federal Street. It might have been in her blind spot. Or more likely, she had simply misjudged the van's high speed. Lucy had probably looked over her shoulder, gauged the distance, determined that she had plenty of time to cross, not realizing how quickly the van was devouring the pavement between them.

But Caroline knew that Lucy had never taken the time to look over her shoulder to check for traffic. She had seen her Caroline cross over onto Federal Street, and ten seconds later, she had followed, assuming that her big sister was looking out for her, as she had so often.

Caroline looked and Caroline crossed so now I can cross.

The van broadsided her, launching the pink Schwinn forward like a rocket. A second later, the screech, as the driver of the vehicle, a twenty-four-year-old woman named Katherine Paley, slammed on the brakes in a vain attempt to stop the van from running over the girl. The doctors would later say that it didn't matter. Lucy was dead before she even hit the pavement. Her head had struck the front of the van with such force that she had died instantly. Painlessly. Probably unaware of what had even happened. Caroline wondered if this is what all doctors said about dead little girls in order to ease the family's pain.

Caroline turned in time to see Lucy's body tumbling beneath the skidding van like a doll flopping around inside a dryer.

The first scream had not been her own but that of Katherine Paley. Caroline could see the woman now, more than two decades later, still clear as day. Faded blue jeans. Purple sweater. Blond hair hanging past narrow shoulders. Sneakered feet straddling the double yellow line of Summer Street. Hands latched on to her temples as she screamed a scream that Caroline could hear to this day.

Then her gaze shifted from the spot where Katherine Paley had been standing to the spot in the road where Lucy's body had finally come to rest. Caroline knew that particular spot on the pavement better than any place in the world, even though she was still unable to recall the last time she had been here. That tiny patch of cracked asphalt had become the center of Caroline's universe. Everything that she had seen and done and said since that day had spun out from that tiny spot.

Now she could see the fifteen-year-old version of herself, dropping her bike in the middle of the road and racing over to her sister, her screams mingling with those of Katherine Paley's to fill the air with high-pitched hysterics. Caroline had known that her sister was dead before she ever reached the body. She remembered the sense of her stomach dropping out from underneath her, the sudden loss of balance, then skidding, falling, collapsing onto the pavement ten feet before reaching her sister. The first heave of breath that her lungs demanded and then the agonizing, weeping crawl across the pavement, over the double yellow line, until she finally reached Lucy's lifeless body. She had wanted to grab her sister and hold on to her, not let anyone touch her. She wanted so desperately to believe that as long as Lucy remained untouched by the world, the world could not take her. And at the same time she wanted to fix her sister, twist her arm back where it belonged, turn her head so that body and neck and face were properly lined up once again. She fell atop Lucy's body, grabbed all that she could and wept, knowing that her sister was dead and that is was her fault. Would always be her fault.