The Returning (31 page)

At first there was an uncomfortably long silence, broken only when Lena’s fist came down hard on top of the display case. A two-foot crack in the glass led to a volley of words and threats between the girls, which led to several kids screaming for their mothers, which eventually led to a security guard coming to break up the fight. Lena was escorted out of the park with the warning not to show her face there anytime soon.

That was Rebekah’s last night on the job. She was given her final paycheck with the invitation not to reapply for employment the following summer.

It had not been a good day. Rebekah lost her job and her best friend and any respect she might have had for her father all in the span of twelve hours. For four days she simmered in a lonely pity party, made worse by the fact that even David was out of town for the week. The only break came on Tuesday afternoon when her father appeared in her bedroom doorway, leaned wearily against the doorframe, and said, “It’s over.” That was all he said, and then he was gone. For several minutes she felt triumphant, except she couldn’t erase the image of her dad standing there looking defeated, as if he’d just been through some giant battle of his own. And who knew but maybe he had. And if so, he’d done it at least partly for her. That made her cry again.

On Friday Lena called and said they might as well make up. They couldn’t blame each other for what their parents had done. Lena chalked it up to some sort of bad karma that had brought her mother together with Rebekah’s father, but as long as those two had ended it, that was what mattered. “If Mom’s ever going to end up in a good relationship,” Lena said, “she’s got to stop dating married men.”

Rebekah was worried about the spell. “Can you undo it?” she’d asked.

Lena assured her it didn’t need undoing since Rebekah’s father had already dumped her mother. Together, Rebekah and Lena swore eternal silence about their parents’ affair. If it ever blossomed on Conesus Lake’s grapevine, it wouldn’t be because of them.

Now dusk was just giving way to darkness as several more cars pulled up to the Castle. It was time for the blowout to begin.

All in all, though she’d looked forward to this since last year’s party, Rebekah felt suddenly certain that she didn’t want to be here now.

“Daddy, you’re cheating!” Phoebe wailed.

John studied the Chinese checkers board on the kitchen table in front of him. “What’d I do?” he asked.

“You can’t move your marble that way.”

“I can’t?”

“No, silly. Once you’ve made it home, you can’t move back out again!”

“Oh, okay.” John moved the offending marble back to where it was. “Well, you have to cut me some slack, Phoeb. I haven’t played this game in decades.”

“But everyone knows that, Daddy!”

“Well, I guess I’m not everyone. So let’s see. How about if I move this one here instead. Is that better?”

Phoebe nodded. She pushed one of her own marbles forward with an index finger. John loved the child’s hands, plump and dimpled. His child. He smiled at Phoebe and was lifting his hand to take a turn when he heard the Volvo turn off Lake Road. He looked out the window and saw the car limping down the drive.

“Uh-oh,” he said.

“What’s the matter, Daddy?”

John didn’t answer. He watched the kitchen door expectantly, caught Andrea’s look of frustration as soon as she came in. She dropped a small paper sack on the kitchen counter.

“Well, John,” she said, “you won’t believe it.”

“I believe it.”

“The tire’s flat again.”

“So I saw. How far did you drive with it like that? You can ruin the rim that way, you know.”

“Everything was fine when I left the drugstore, but then I felt the bumping half a minute ago. The tire must have been leaking air as I went. I was almost home so I figured I’d just come on.”

John sighed. “And you don’t have a spare, right?”

Andrea shook her head. “No. There wasn’t a spare in the car when Owen gave it to me.”

“I wonder what he did with it.”

“I have no idea.”

“Well . . .” John thought a moment. “I suppose we need a whole new set of tires, just to be on the safe side.”

“Probably so, I’m afraid.”

“We’ll just have to bite the bullet and do it. Do we have enough in savings to cover it, or do we have to put it on credit?”

“We’ll have to put it on credit, I guess.”

“All right. We’ll have it towed tomorrow. While we’re getting the tires, we’ll look into a new battery for Beka’s car.”

“When it rains, it pours,” Andrea said.

“At least the toilet hasn’t been clogged for a whole week,” Phoebe piped up.

“We can be thankful for small blessings,” John answered.

“Did Beka say what time she’d be home after the movie?” Andrea asked.

“Last I heard,” John said, “she was going to spend the night at Lena’s.”

“I thought those two had a falling out.”

John dropped his gaze and pretended to study the checkerboard. “Apparently they patched it up,” he said. “You know how kids are.”

“Where’s Billy? I’ve got the nasal spray he wanted.”

“Lying on his bed, I think.”

“All right. I’ll see to him, and then I’m going to go to bed myself pretty soon. It’s been a long day.”

“You go ahead. I’ll take care of Phoebe.”

“She should have her teeth brushed and be in bed by nine.”

John glanced at the kitchen clock. “That gives me half an hour to beat her at Chinese checkers.”

“Aw, Daddy! I can beat you with my eyes shut!”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah!”

“Well, then.” John leaned over the checkerboard, chuckling. “Bring it on.”

Rebekah reached for the flashlight in the passenger seat but decided there was just enough light left for her to see the walkway to the Castle door. If she took the flashlight in with her, she’d most likely come out without it in the morning. Anyway, once she was inside, light shouldn’t be a problem. Not if the usual lantern committee had done their job.

She opened the car door and swung her feet out to the ground; still, she hesitated. Morning seemed like a long way off. And the party wasn’t officially over until the kids dragged themselves outside to watch the sun come up over the lake. She and Lena had made it last year—just barely—after a night of drinking. Sometime after daybreak Aunt Jo had come and peeled the two of them off the ground, taking them back to her place to sleep it off. Hours later, when they were sipping some sort of mixture of herbal tea at the kitchen table, Aunt Jo told them she admired their ode to nature, but they might have actually enjoyed the sunrise if they hadn’t been simultaneously throwing up. “You’re going to turn into your mother,” Aunt Jo warned Lena. Rebekah remembered that now.

She stood up, shut the door, was about to step forward when a car approached and caught her in its headlights. She was momentarily blinded until the lights were turned off and the engine cut. The driver tapped playfully on the horn. Rebekah recognized the aging Chevy as Lena’s.

Her friend got out and waved. Bypassing any other greeting, Lena said, “Hey, Bek, give me a hand, will you?”

She opened the car’s hatchback to reveal a cardboard box filled with a variety of bottles. Contributing to any party was always easy for Lena.

“Come on,” Lena said. “Let’s get the show on the road.”

John sat on the edge of the bed and tucked the sheet up around Phoebe’s chin. He gently pushed the hair off her forehead and out of her eyes. “You’re one mean checkers machine,” he said, laughing softly.

“I told you I could beat you, Daddy.”

“Yes, you did. Now it’s time for you to shut those pretty eyes and go to sleep.”

She sighed, her small chest rising and falling beneath the cool sheet. “All right. But can we play some more tomorrow?”

“You bet, honey.”

“I’ll beat you again.”

“I’m sure you will. Now listen, go to sleep. And do you think you can stay here in your own bed all night?”

She moved her head slowly from side to side on the pillow.

“Does that mean no?” he asked.

“I like it in Billy’s room,” she answered. “And now it’s extra nice because he has the nightlight.”

“We can get you your own nightlight if that’s what you need.”

“It wouldn’t be the same.”

“Why not?”

“It wouldn’t be Billy’s.”

He frowned, trying to understand her six-year-old logic. “Well, anyway, it’s time to go to sleep now.”

“But, Daddy, I haven’t said my prayers.”

“Oh. Okay, go ahead.”

John shut his eyes and held her hand and listened as she recited her “Now I Lay Me” prayer. When she said amen, he echoed the word.

Leaning over to kiss her forehead, he said, “Good night, honey.”

“Good night, Daddy.” She shut her eyes, but just as quickly opened them again. “Daddy?”

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“Can you sing me a song to help me fall asleep?”

“Oh, well, I’m not much of a singer, but . . .”

“You can sing anything you want, Daddy, as long as it’s a happy song.”

“Hmm . . . all right.”

He reached over and switched off the lamp on the bedside table. The bedroom door was open just enough to let in a swath of light from the kitchen. John gazed down at his daughter’s serene young face, framed by blond ringlets. He was captured by the sense that she was a gift he didn’t deserve, but one that he’d been given anyway.

He studied her for so long she finally asked, “What are you looking at, Daddy?”

“The face of an angel, I think.”

She giggled. “Aren’t you going to sing something?”

“I’m thinking,” he replied. “I don’t know very many songs, I’m afraid.”

“You can make something up if you want. That’s what Billy does sometimes.”

“Well, I’m probably not as talented as Billy. So let’s see. I guess you’re too old for ‘Rock-a-bye Baby’?”

She nodded.

“That’s all right,” he said. “I don’t know all the words anyway.”

He cocked his head, looked up toward the ceiling. His mind appeared a wasteland when it came to songs until he remembered what they always sang in prison at the end of chapel services.