At breakfast the next morning, Tom told his sister and her overnight houseguest about the ambulance.
“It was on Locust, just a block or so from the Granges’. That white house with the little fence around it.”
“Not the one with the oak tree in the side yard?”
“That’s it,” Tom said. “Do you know who lives there?”
“Laura Snow. I’ve picked her up a couple of times to go out to the nursing home.” Paula turned to Erika worriedly. “Something bad must’ve happened. Do you think we should call?”
“Yes, definitely,” Erika said. “You know, she’s all alone there except for her mom. If Mrs. Snow’s had a heart attack or something, Laura’s going to need us.”
“Should I call her cell or the hospital?” Paula asked, getting up from the table.
“The house.”
The phone was answered on the first ring. The conversation was short.
When Paula returned to the table, she looked more worried than ever.
“It’s Laura, not her mom,” she said. “One of their neighbors is over there and answered the phone. She wouldn’t tell me anything except that the ‘crisis is over,’ but Laura’s going to be in the hospital for a few days. Mrs. Snow was there with her most of the night, but she’s home now, sleeping.”
“She didn’t say what happened?” Erika asked. “Was it her appendix or something like that?”
“She wouldn’t say. In fact, when I asked her, she basically hung up on me. Should I try the hospital?”
“Tell them you’re her sister,” Erika advised. “You might be able to learn more that way.”
This second call provided no more information than the first. Laura Snow was, indeed, a patient at Modesta Hospital. She was “in fair condition” and “resting comfortably.” There was no phone in her room, and she wasn’t allowed to have visitors.
By noon all the members of Daughters of Eve had been given the news, and Erika had called Irene Stark.
“Can you find out what happened?” she asked her. “They’ll talk to you. You’re her teacher.”
“I’ll try,” Irene said. “I’ve never met Mrs. Snow, though, and I don’t know that my name will mean anything to her.”
“She didn’t show up at the dance,” Erika said. “From something she said, I thought she was going to come.”
There was a pause. Then Irene asked slowly, “With a date?”
“I don’t think so. Laura doesn’t have a boyfriend.”
“I think she does,” Irene said.
“You’re kidding! I’ve never seen her with anybody. That kind of news gets around fast. Modesta High is one big gossip factory.”
“Think carefully,” Irene said. “What was it she said that made you think she would be at the dance last night?”
“I don’t remember. Oh—wait—yes, I do! She was telling somebody, maybe it was Holly, that her mom had bought her a dress. It was a little tight, but she thought she would fit in it by homecoming. She was on a diet; I know, because she and Paula and I share the same lunch period. Laura used to eat with us, but recently she hasn’t even been coming into the cafeteria. She said watching us eat made her too hungry.”
“I’ll call Mrs. Snow tonight,” Irene told her. “Meanwhile, I think it would be best not to make too much of this. I wish you’d tell the girls not to talk about it at school tomorrow.”
“But when Laura is absent, won’t people be curious?”
“I don’t see why. Students are absent all the time. Whatever the reason for Laura’s hospitalization, it’s obvious her mother would prefer to keep it quiet. So until we know more about this, let’s keep it between us. All right?”
“All right,” Erika agreed readily. “But you will tell the Daughters of Eve, won’t you? That is, if you find out anything?”
“Of course,” Irene said. “You’re her sisters.”
The November 13 meeting of the Modesta chapter of Daughters of Eve was called to order by Erika. The pledge was repeated.
Ann Whitten read the minutes from the previous meeting:
“Irene Stark brought up the possibility of making a special designation as to how the money collected through the raffle will be used. After much discussion, Paula Brummell moved that the money be spent to start a girls’ soccer team. Jane Rheardon seconded the motion, which was passed unanimously.”
“It shook up a few people, too,” Kelly Johnson commented wryly.
“A few people!” Holly Underwood exclaimed. “That’s the understatement of the century! You should’ve heard Steve on the way home from the dance! He was so mad he could hardly talk. You know, he’s on the basketball team, and they’d been counting on those warm-up suits.”
“My dad doesn’t think Mr. Shelby will go along with us,” Tammy said. “Dad thinks he’s taking it as a kind of joke.”
“He has to go along with us if he endorses the check,” Paula said. “We have it printed right there on the back. When he signs his name, that’s his agreement.”
“Please, everybody, I think this comes under the heading of ‘old business,’ ” Erika broke in. “Let’s do things in order. Are there any additions or corrections to Ann’s minutes? No? Then they stand approved as read. Madison, could we have the treasurer’s report?”
“We took in five hundred and fifty dollars through dance admissions. Materials for decorating the gym were one hundred and twenty-three dollars; drinks were donated; and the DJ—meaning Brad Tully and his laptop—cost one hundred dollars. After writing a check for the girls’ soccer team, that gives us a personal balance of three hundred forty-seven dollars, even before we collect December dues. In other words, we’re rich,” Madison announced with satisfaction. “Let’s have a party.”
“We just had a dance. That should last us awhile,” Holly said. “I think we ought to order some flowers to be sent to Laura in the hospital.”
“Yes, let’s do that,” Tammy said. “Do we know how long she’s going to be there? Has anybody heard anything?”
“Irene was going to try to find out for us,” Erika said.
“I talked to Mrs. Snow last night.” Irene was silent for a moment. Then she said, “I saw Laura this morning.”
“I thought she wasn’t supposed to have visitors,” Paula said in surprise.
“She asked especially to see me. She’d written a letter she wanted me to read at today’s meeting.” Irene withdrew a folded sheet of notebook paper from her purse. She spread it flat on the table in front of her. “I’d better tell you first that Laura won’t be coming back to Modesta High. She’s being discharged from the hospital later today, and she’ll fly immediately to her father’s home in Rhode Island. She’s going to finish the school year there.”
“But why?” Jane Rheardon asked in bewilderment. The question was echoed in eight other faces.
“Let me read you the letter,” Irene said, leaning forward over the paper.
“ ‘Dear Sisters—I am sorry to be going away like this without saying good-bye. I just don’t feel that I can face anybody right now. I don’t think I can come back to school and face certain people ever. I want to go to a new place and start all over. I wish I could forget my whole life except for you, my sisters. You are the only kind people I know in the world. I want you to know how grateful I am that you let me be one of you. My homecoming dress is in the back of my closet if one of you has a use for it. I sure never will. I love you all—Laura.’ ”
For a moment no one spoke.
Finally, Jane said, “I don’t understand. That doesn’t explain anything.”
“Somebody did something terrible to her,” Kelly said.
“What happened, Irene?” Erika asked. “Did Laura tell you?”
“Yes, she did,” Irene said. “I think it’s right that I share this with you, but first I want your promise that it will never go any further. What I’m going to tell you must not be repeated outside of the sisterhood.”
“That’s part of the pledge,” Kelly reminded her.
“That’s right, it is. ‘We pledge ourselves to divulge to no one words spoken in confidence within this sacred circle.’ I just want to be sure that everyone understands how important it is that this pledge be kept.” Irene glanced about the circle of solemn faces.
“When Mrs. Snow returned last night from a card party, she found that Laura had taken sleeping pills. The empty bottle was lying on the bedside table. Luckily, Laura’s mother found her in time. She called 911, and the ambulance was able to get to her before the bulk of the medication got into the bloodstream. If she’d been a few minutes later, or if she hadn’t noticed the bottle and realized what had happened, Laura would have died.”
There was a collective gasp.
“Did she mean to take them?” Ann asked in horror. “I mean, was she trying to—to—”
“To commit suicide? I don’t know, Ann. Laura herself doesn’t seem sure. She told me this morning that she was in such a state of shock and pain she just wanted to ‘sleep and forget everything.’ As Kelly said, somebody did something terrible to her. She wasn’t tough enough to handle that.”
“Who was it?” Kelly demanded. “What did they do?”
“I think I know,” Kristy Grange said. “It was my brother, Peter.”
“Peter?” Madison exclaimed incredulously. “But Pete wasn’t anywhere near Laura! He was with me all evening. Besides, they hardly know each other.”
“Yes, they do,” Kristy said. “When I went up to bed after the dance, there wasn’t a glass in the bathroom. I wanted to brush my teeth, so I went down to the kitchen to get one. Niles and Peter were there talking. They didn’t see me in the doorway, and I heard them—heard them talking about—”
“About what?” Madison said. “Stop stalling, Kristy!”
“The way they were talking, I guess… Pete’s been hooking up with Laura,” Kristy said miserably. “That’s how it sounded. You know the way guys talk, though. They like to brag and blow things up bigger than they really are.”
“It figures,” Madison said slowly. “I kind of wondered—all that time after we stopped going out and he didn’t seem to be seeing anybody else—it didn’t seem like his style. Pete doesn’t sit around and lick his wounds. But—Laura! No, Kristy—you must have heard wrong. They were kidding around or something.”
“No, they weren’t.” Kristy shook her head. “Laura thought Pete was going to take her to homecoming.”
“And then when he and I got back together again he canceled the date?”
“No. He just—just didn’t show.”
“He stood her up?” Madison’s face was pale with anger. “Of all the shitty things to do! To both of us! You should have heard the line of crap he gave me. How he’d missed me. How lonely he’d been. And all the time he had Laura waiting in the wings! I wonder what he was telling her that whole time. How far do you think it went?”
“I think—pretty far.”
“That bastard! Freaking bastard!” Madison brought her clenched fist crashing down on the surface of the table. “And I thought he’d changed, that he really cared about me and about our relationship! How could I have been such an idiot!”
“You’re not an idiot,” Tammy said, trying to soothe her. “You believed what he said, and why shouldn’t you? There was no way you could’ve guessed this was going on with Laura.”
“I believed him because I wanted to, that’s what was stupid. And Laura—well, at least she had the excuse of not having a lot of experience. I can see where she might fall for his crap, but with me—I’ve been going out with guys since middle school! I should’ve known better!”
“So should Laura,” Kelly said coldly. “Maybe she hasn’t had dating experience, but she had a dad who walked out on her and on her mom. That should be enough right there to teach her that you can’t trust men.”
“We don’t really know—” Ann began.
“Of course we do! Irene and I had a long talk about that very thing the other night. All of us know a whole lot of things down deep inside, but we close our eyes and our minds to them. Like Madison just said. We believe what we want to believe. It’s easier than standing up for ourselves.”
“Like with my mom,” Jane said. “She keeps telling herself that it’s her own fault Dad beats up on her because she’s dumb and irritates him and things like that.”
“What would happen if she faced the truth, Jane?” Irene asked quietly. “What if she acknowledged the fact that she is married to a cruel and brutal man who hates all women and is taking this hatred out on her?”
“She’d have to leave him,” Jane said.
“And if she did that—?”
“She’d have to be by herself and that scares her. She doesn’t know how to do that.”
“And so she stays where she is and lets herself be beaten?”
“You’re making it sound as if I should be doing something,” Jane said. “What can I do? I’ve talked to Mom. I’ve told her to leave him. She says she will someday, after I’m grown. That’s just an excuse. She’ll never leave, no matter what he does to her.
“I don’t understand it. I only know I’m never going to get into anything like that, ever.”
“Not all men are like that,” Ann said. “My dad would die before he’d do anything to hurt my mom. And Dave is the same way.”
“You may think that now,” Kelly said. “Jane’s mother probably felt like that, too, in the beginning.”
“Cruelty isn’t always physical, either,” Irene said. “In many cases it’s quite subtle, an undermining of a woman’s self-confidence, a draining of her self-esteem so that she’s forced to channel her energy in nonproductive directions.”
“That’s what happened to my mom with her music,” Holly said.
“But not to mine,” Tammy announced adamantly. “She’s doing her own thing, and she’s happy. My dad’s really proud of her, too.”
“What about last summer when she was offered that lecture job at the writers’ conference in California?” Kelly said. “She turned that down because your dad had to stay here and teach summer school.”
“He didn’t make her turn it down. She made her own decision. She doesn’t like to take trips without him.”
“How does she know she doesn’t when she’s never tried it?” Kelly asked. “Face it, Tam, she’s afraid that if she leaves for a month your dad might find somebody else. Every woman is scared of that, or, if she isn’t, she should be.”
“That’s a nasty thing to say,” Tammy said. “My dad would never think—”
“Sure, he would! Why should he be any different from my dad?”
“Girls, let’s not fight among ourselves,” Irene said. “We need our strength and unity for the larger fight. We have to work together. Our strength is in our sisterhood.”
“But you’re making it sound like all men in the world are enemies,” Tammy said. “Just because Kelly’s dad fell in love with somebody else doesn’t mean my dad is going to. There are people who stay together because they love each other, and they try to make each other happy. It may not always work out perfectly but they try.”
“You live in a dream world, Tammy,” Irene said coldly. Her voice was low and controlled. “Little sisters of mine, wake up! You must open your eyes! You are not like your mothers and grandmothers! You are a whole new generation. You don’t have to let yourselves be ground underfoot, as they have been. You can rise—fight back—show the world that you know your own worth!”
“The way we did by forcing them to use the raffle money for a girls’ team?” Paula said.
“That was a beginning.”
“If that creep, Peter, thinks I’m ever going to go out with him again, he’s got another think coming,” Madison said. “As far as I’m concerned, it’s over, and I mean forever.”
“Is that all?” Irene asked her.
“All?”
“That seems like mild retribution. This is a man who drove a trusting and loving girl into an attempt to take her own life. Does your refusal to date Peter in the future seem like sufficient punishment?”
“It’s a beginning.” Madison smiled slightly as she repeated the teacher’s words. Her sharp blue gaze flickered around the table. “If it’s going to be more than that, I’m going to need help.”
“You’ve got plenty of that right here,” Kelly said.
“Then we’ll plan something. Something he won’t forget for a long while. Is that what you meant, Irene?”
“This decision must be made by all of you. This is a club, after all. Motions must be voted on. It’s appropriate, I think, for you to present a proposal for group consideration.”
“What about Kristy?” Madison glanced across at the younger girl. “Pete’s her brother.”
“If Kristy doesn’t want to be involved, she’s free to leave.”
“What exactly is it that you’re going to do?” Kristy asked nervously.
“That hasn’t been decided.” Madison regarded her thoughtfully. “If you’re going to leave, you should probably do it now before this goes any further.”
“I don’t want to leave.”
“Then you’ll have to remember, you’re bound by the pledge.”
“I’ll remember. Don’t worry,” Kristy said solemnly. “Pete may be my brother, but Laura’s more than that. She’s my sister and my friend.”
“Are you going to take part in it?” Tammy asked.
“I guess so,” Ann said slowly. “We don’t have much choice, do we? We voted.”
“We could drop out.”
“Leave the group?” Ann shook her head. “We can’t do that. You tried it once and it didn’t work, remember? No, we’re all together in this. We have to do our share.”
The late afternoon light was thin and gray, and the wind was beginning to pick up intensity as they walked. Tammy dug her hands into her jacket pockets for warmth and her mind slid back to another day, two months ago—was it only two months? Yes, unbelievably, it was—when she’d run out of the school building into the bright warmth of the September afternoon. But she hadn’t been warm. She’d been shivering, in the grip of some cold, strange thing that chilled her through, despite the golden sweetness of the day.
It chilled her now. Her spine was like ice, and her teeth were chattering with a cold that didn’t come from the November wind.
“Madison was so angry,” she said. “I’ve never seen her like that. She’s always been the laid-back one, who didn’t get upset about anything.”
“She has reason to be mad,” Ann said. “She trusted Pete. She thought he loved her. And then there’s Laura. It makes me want to cry when I think about her.”
“Kelly’s the one who scares me,” Tammy said. “She’s changed so much, so fast. She’s become so bitter.”
“Who can blame her? I’d be bitter, too, if my dad walked out on Mom and me. Wouldn’t you—if it was your dad?”
“Yes.” She couldn’t deny that.
“And think about Jane.”
“Yeah—Jane. That’s a bad situation.” Tammy shuddered. “I never believed people could really be that way. You see her parents at church, and they look so happy together.”
“It’s like Irene says, we’ve had our eyes shut,” Ann said. “You and I are luckier than most people. We’ve been sheltered. But the real world is out there, and you never know when it’s going to reach out and grab you. It can happen so suddenly.”
“How did you vote?”
“I voted to punish Peter.”
“That doesn’t sound much like ‘gentle Annie,’ ” Tammy said wryly.
Her friend gave her a surprised glance. “How did you know Dave calls me that?”
“I didn’t. It just came to me, the way things do sometimes. I told you once that something was going to happen this semester. I saw a candle—with blood—”
“Tammy, don’t,” Ann interrupted curtly. “I don’t want to worry about your seeing things. I’ve got problems of my own.”
“I’m sorry,” Tammy said contritely. “Do you want to talk about them?”
“No. But I really don’t want to talk about bleeding candles. Sometimes, Tam, you’re so weird it creeps me out.”
It was the first cruel thing Ann had ever said to her. Or, as far as Tammy knew, to anyone.