Chapter 14

The next morning, still in shock, I forced myself to shower in time to meet my parents. They picked me up at ten, and somehow I managed to survive brunch at the Ojai Valley Hunt Club and a drive to Santa Barbara afterwards. My mother insisted, saying that it was our last chance to do it as a family.

“Things will be too hectic after graduation, Ted,” she said. “And after that, we won’t have a good excuse to come here anymore.”

When I got back to campus, I immediately headed for Olivia’s house. It was against school rules for me to go there without an invitation from Olivia’s mother, but I didn’t care. I didn’t care about anything except getting Olivia to talk to me. I had to find out why she was so angry. What had I done? How could I get her back? At the very least, I told myself, she owed me an explanation.

Eleanor’s station wagon was parked next to the cottage, and my heart pounded as I walked up the little concrete path. Taking a breath, I rapped my knuckles on the door, then stepped back and waited. No one answered. I knocked again, but there was still no movement inside. I waited a moment and knocked a third time as I resigned myself to the fact that no one was home.

I scoured the campus, hoping to find her. I searched the library first, and then headed to the gym on the off chance she was hanging out with the Sunday afternoon volleyball crowd. I wasn’t surprised that she wasn’t there, and she wasn’t in the rec room next to the dining hall, either. I walked back to my dorm, cursing the fact that the next morning, I’d be on a bus to San Francisco with all the other graduating seniors. The trip was supposed to be a reward, but now it would be nothing but torture until I returned on Friday.

After dinner, I made another trip to Olivia’s house. Once again, no one answered the door, and I trudged back to my room. An empty suitcase lay open on my bed. Damn. The bus was leaving at six the next morning, and I had done nothing to prepare. But I won’t be able to sleep, I told myself, so what difference does it make? I’ll have all night to pack. I reached for my violin case, which I always kept on the shelf over my desk.

My violin. Right then, I hated it. I hated everything about my privileged life. Even though I still had no idea what I had done to make her so unhappy, Olivia was right when she called me a snob.

Sighing heavily, I pulled the case off the shelf. It was stupid to blame my violin. It was the one thing in my life that would always be there for me. Unlike Olivia, it could never decide to hate me, and right now, it offered escape. For three hours, I could put myself on automatic play, and afterward …

No, I told myself when I emerged from the practice room. It’s too late. It was after ten o’clock, and school rules were clear. I had permission to be out of the dorm after hours, but only to practice. I was now supposed to go directly to my room.

But rules didn’t matter anymore. I couldn’t stop myself from detouring by Olivia’s house. Maybe she’d be out taking a late walk, or I might even find her in the secret garden. I had to see her before I left for San Francisco. I had to! I crept stealthily along the path, trying to make as little noise as possible.

Eleanor’s car was still parked where it had been earlier, but the cottage was completely dark. I stood there staring at it, my heart beating wildly. If I knocked and Eleanor answered, would she let me see Olivia? Of course not. And what if they were asleep? The last thing I wanted to do was to make Eleanor angry and give Olivia another reason to hate me.

Moving silently back down the path past the maintenance building, I slipped into the secret garden. Still breathing hard, I set my violin case on the sloping wooden slats of the cellar door next to the electric meter. Maybe I should sneak back and knock on Olivia’s window. I knew which one it was, even though I’d never been in her room. I could tap softly, so she’d hear me only if she were still awake. But I’d never done it before—we’d always planned our meetings.

On sudden impulse, I reached for my violin case, flipped open the clasps, and raised the lid. My violin gleamed in the light of a naked, moth-enshrouded bulb on the corner of the building. I grasped the neck and lifted it out. I picked up my bow.

I knew if I played, the sound would carry. Olivia’s window was no more than twenty yards away, and once her mother had heard us laughing from her living room. She hadn’t figured out exactly where we’d been, but we were always more careful after that. Several of the teachers’ cottages were also within easy earshot of the secret garden. On a quiet night like this, music might even reach the dorms.

But who the hell cared, as long as Olivia heard me? I tucked the violin under my chin, and raised my bow. Taking a breath, I played the first note of Paganini’s “Last Caprice in A Minor.” As the sound sliced into the silence, I was shocked at how loud it was. I’d probably wake the whole campus! But the thought only made me continue. If everyone could hear me, Olivia could, too. Exhilarated, I played on, certain that at any moment, she would slip between the juniper trees.

But as I played, and Olivia didn’t appear, doubt crept into my confidence. Could she actually listen to me play this piece—the same one I had played at the folk music festival—and still not come to find me? How could the connection we shared be severed so suddenly? How could life be so unfair as to give me Olivia and then yank her away? I blinked back sudden tears and struggled to continue.

Just then, the lower branches of one of the juniper trees moved. I sucked in a breath but kept playing. They moved again as Puck, Mr. Gillespie’s sheepdog, pushed his way into the secret garden. Following at the end of his leash was Mr. G. himself, armed with a flashlight. I stopped playing.

“I knew it had to be you, Spencer,” Mr. Gillespie said. “What gives?”

“Nothing,” I said. “I’m just—I’m going back to the dorm.”

“You sound great, but it’s late.”

“I’m sorry,” I said.

Mr. Gillespie patted my shoulder. “Get some sleep. You’ve got an early call tomorrow.”

He watched as I packed up my violin, and he held the juniper branches aside as I stepped back out onto the pathway.

“If it’s real, it will survive.”

I turned to stare at my teacher.

“Trust an old guy, Spencer.” He paused to untangle Puck’s leash. “And get some sleep.”

•••

When I got back to my room, I sat down at my desk. Maybe Olivia was too sound asleep, I told myself, or maybe she was wasn’t even home. Even though her mother’s car was there, it was possible that Aunt Emily had picked them up. Or maybe … it didn’t matter. All I knew was that I couldn’t get on the bus in the morning without making one last attempt to communicate with her.

Opening a spiral notebook, I began to write on a blank page. After ripping out at least a dozen false starts, I carefully copied this letter onto a piece of the engraved stationery my parents had given me for my seventeenth birthday.

Dearest Olivia,

I have to see you. There are things—important things—I must tell you. Please, will you meet me in the secret garden at 5 o’clock on Friday? I’ll be on the senior trip to San Francisco until then.

If I’m not there, it will be because the bus is late, and I’ll get there as soon as I can. If you’re not there, I’ll know what it means. I won’t understand, but I’ll know.

Olivia, I love you. I always have. I always will.

Teddy

The next morning, I put the letter in Eleanor’s mailbox, where I had so often left messages for Olivia before. Then I got on the bus with the other seniors and began counting the hours until Friday afternoon at five o’clock.