I hadn’t forgotten about my family back in Springhills. Grandma and I had phoned them the day after I’d arrived and again the following Sunday.
Leslie got on the phone first. “Molly and I were in a fight because she always copies everything I do. Now she has a new best friend—Suzy Collins.”
“Hang in there, kiddo, Molly’ll come around. Maybe, you can make new friends.”
“Yes, I don’t need her anyhow.”
“How’s Mom?”
“She’s either working or out with Mr. Putterman.” Leslie sounded sulky.
“I wish you were here with me, Leslie. I sure miss you.”
“Next summer I’m coming with you for sure. Being a ballerina isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. My feet hurt. Also, you don’t get to wear anything pretty unless you’re in a show. I think it’s false advertising.”
Then Mom got on the line. She sounded distracted. “How’s Grandma?”
“She’s okay.” Grandma had given me specific instructions not to tell Mom about her heart attack. She’d said that Mom would only worry needlessly.
“We miss you. John’s been sleeping over while I’m on nights, so Leslie’s not alone. Have you booked your flight home?”
“Well, about that. Grandma’s invited me to stay a bit longer.”
“Oh? I was counting on you to come home and look after Leslie while I’m at work.”
It was always about what was easiest for Mom. Poor old Putterman having to babysit. Maybe it was giving him a taste of family life and what he was in for once he married Mom. I started to get mad. She hadn’t even asked if I was having a good time. “Actually, I don’t know when I’ll be home. I’m thinking about staying here and going to school in the fall.”
Mom was silent. Finally, she said, “What’s going on, Jennifer?”
“Nothing, Mom. You’re not the only one who can change the people she wants to live with.”
“I’m going to hang up now, Jennifer. I want you to reconsider what you’re saying. I’ll talk to you next week, and we’ll book your flight.”
“I told you, Mom. I’m not ready to come home.”
I heard the click as she hung up.
I turned and saw Grandma standing in the doorway. The look on her face told me that she had heard everything. She opened her arms and I went to her. She whispered into my ear, “This will work out, my dear. Just give it time.”
How could Mom blow our lives apart for good by marrying Putterman? I was filled with a great emptiness that kept threatening to choke me. I felt this anger at my mother that almost made me sick. I knew that she could make us a family again if she wanted to. Besides, whatever happened to that “till death do us part” stuff that Mom and Dad had pledged to each other? Could they decide not to love Leslie and me just as easily? It made me want to run and run away forever.
I had been with Grandma for three weeks, and we were sitting in her hammock side by side after a supper of lake trout, rocking aimlessly and enjoying the evening settling around us. We’d lit some citronella candles to keep the bugs away, and I kept getting whiffs of their lemony scent every time we rocked forward. Grandma seemed a bit tired and said, “I might turn in soon for a good night’s sleep. I want to be up early to scout out a new place to begin a final painting for my art show.”
I hesitated, but finally asked, “Grandma, do you think I could stay for August too? I bought an open-ended ticket, so I’m not really scheduled to be back on a certain date.”
Grandma looked at me in silence for a few moments. Then she smiled and reached for my hand. She said, “Of course, you can stay. That would be delightful. We’ll just have to phone your mom to let her know, but I love your company, and nothing would please me more. Don’t worry, dear. I know how to bring your mom around.”
I had been scared that Grandma would turn me away, since I hadn’t asked her before I’d told Mom that I wasn’t coming home, and her words lifted something from my heart. I wrapped my arms around her and breathed, “Oh, thank you Grandma. You’re the best!”
She patted my back as if she was comforting me, and I heard her say, “You are such a sweet child. Things always work out as they should.”
I wanted more than anything to believe her.
Audrey and I had fallen into a morning ritual of meeting on the dock and swimming for an hour every morning. Afterwards, we would sit with our legs dangling in the water off the end of the dock and talk. She didn’t seem as tough and loose as everyone said, but still, I was hesitant to ask her anything too personal.
One day, I asked, “What do you do for the rest of the day after you come for a swim?” I never saw her around when I went for a jog later in the morning, and I was curious. Lately, it was just Mr. Musquash who waved at me as I jogged by. He was rebuilding the front steps and had set up a skillsaw near the front door where he cut cedar into boards. I heard the whir of the blade as I neared their house. Once he’d started the project, Marilyn and Doris had stopped playing in the front yard.
Audrey answered, “I go home and clean the house. My mother . . . she has this condition that keeps her from doing much. Then I usually walk to the highway and hitchhike into town.”
“What’s wrong with your mom?”
Audrey rested her chin on her knees. Her black hair hung heavily over her shoulder in a braid. “She has a phobia about leaving the house. It didn’t used to be so bad, but now she can’t even go outside.”
“How long has she been like that?”
“The last few years or so.”
“Audrey, it’s not really safe to be hitchhiking.”
“Yeah, well, I’m sick of going into town. Lately, I’ve been going up to that old hermit’s place to help him build birdhouses.”
This news surprised me. “Is he friendly?”
Audrey nodded. “Joe doesn’t talk much, but he’s teaching me about carpentry, and I like it. I guess it’s safe enough.” She mumbled the last words more to herself than to me.
“Maybe you could take me up there sometime?” I wondered if Joe would mind me being on his property.
Audrey shrugged, “Maybe.”
One day, at the end of July, Audrey came by but said she didn’t feel like swimming. She was wearing jeans and a hooded sweatshirt, even though the day was looking like it would be a hot one.
I was disappointed, having looked forward to a swim. “Are you sick, Audrey?”
Her dark eyes looked into mine, and she shrugged. “Just the monthly curse. I’m really not up to a swim.”
This seemed unlike her, but I didn’t ask any more. Instead, I said, “Do you want some tea? That might make you feel better.”
She looked behind her into the bushes near the road. “Okay. I can stay just a little while.” She rubbed her arm like it was sore.
“Have you hurt your arm?”
She dropped her hand. “I walked into a door. Don’t worry, it’s okay. I’m kind of clumsy.” She laughed self-consciously.
“You’re not having a very good day,” I said. I left her on the dock and went up to make the tea. It took a few minutes for the kettle to boil, and I watched her from the window. She’d squatted on the edge of the dock and was poking in the water with a broken tree branch. She looked deep in thought.
I picked camomile and poured the boiling water into Grandma’s periwinkle blue teapot. Balancing the teapot and two mugs painted with butterflies, I walked carefully down to the dock. I had to call Audrey’s name twice before she came to the deck chairs to have her tea.
“You seemed a million miles away.”
“Yeah, that might be nice.” She laughed. It was short and harsh. She blew on her tea. “Jimmy’s come home for good. He didn’t like the guy he was working for.”
“Oh? Does he have anything else lined up?”
“He’ll probably work at the diner like he did last summer. He was the short-order cook—you know—making hamburgers and sandwiches and stuff.”
I asked, “What about you, Audrey? Do you know what you want to do after high school?”
Audrey’s eyes were suddenly dancing. “I’ve been taking hairdressing courses at high school so I can move to Toronto and work in a shop, maybe even start my own business.”
I’d grown so tired of my own hair that I asked, “Can you do something with my hair before I shave myself bald?”
Audrey studied my head, her face interested. “You’d look good with a short, spikier kind of hairstyle, if you want a big change.”
“Sounds wonderful. How about tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow? If nothing else comes up, sure. I could do that.”
She finished her tea in a few gulps, suddenly seeming jumpy. She looked around a few times before leaping up and saying she had to go.
I was getting used to her sudden departures and sat for a while after she’d left, staring into the woods. Then I collected the dishes and started up the path to the house. When I lifted my head, I thought I saw someone at the window. I knew I was imagining it, because Grandma wouldn’t be back until after lunch. I slowed my steps and surveyed the windows. I blinked, and the shadows shifted. Now, the window looked empty and still. Had I been imagining a person standing there? Maybe it was just a trick of light. I shook off my fear and entered the front door, looking around the room and behind the furniture, ready to bolt out the front door if I had to. I shouted “Grandma? Is anybody here? Audrey?” All the time, I kept telling myself that I was being ridiculous. Still, I was really happy that nobody answered my calls.
Letting out a big breath, I bent to pick up the tray from the coffee table where I’d set it when I’d first come into the cabin. I walked towards the kitchen and stopped suddenly in alarm. The cups rattled against each other as I lowered the tray to the counter with shaking hands. I was certain I’d shut the back door after putting the garbage out this morning. Why was the door now swinging gently back and forth in the breeze? I forced myself to step outside and scan the back yard. It looked empty, and I went back inside, shutting the door and leaning against it with my back. By the time Grandma came home, I’d convinced myself that nobody had been there, and that my imagination had been working overtime. It seemed like the only explanation.
The next day, Audrey arrived as usual, but this time she had a pair of scissors in her little knapsack. I’d already washed my hair and sat on a stool in the kitchen. Audrey wrapped a dish towel around my neck. “You’re sure you want to do this?” she asked, raising the scissors to the back of my head.
“It’s only hair,” I said, wondering what I’d gotten myself into. “Make me beautiful, Audrey.”
“I’ll give it my best shot,” she said, and the scissors cut into a chunk of hair. She worked slowly and wouldn’t let me see until she was satisfied. My head felt light as the hair fell around me.
At last, Audrey said, “Right. I think that’ll do. Now you can look.”
I ran into Grandma’s bedroom with Audrey right behind me and looked in the mirror over Grandma’s dresser. My hair was cut short and funky, and my eyes looked huge with my cheekbones more defined.
“You’re a genius!” I shouted and hugged Audrey before she knew what was happening. Her body stiffened at my touch, and she drew away. I quickly dropped my arms to my sides. “I’ll visit your shop in Toronto any time,” I said, trying to lighten the moment.
Audrey turned to go back into the kitchen. “Yeah, if and when.”
“Don’t sound so pessimistic. If you want something badly enough, it’ll happen.”
Audrey turned towards me, her face shadowed over. “Listen, Jen. I’m still not up to swimming this morning. In fact, I don’t think I can come swim with you any more.”
“Why not, Audrey? I look forward to seeing you.” I stared at her until her eyes lifted to mine. I couldn’t begin to read what she was thinking.
“Mom needs me around the house more. She’s not doing so well.”
“I’m sorry. If you can ever get away later in the day, we could swim at a different time. It doesn’t have to be first thing in the morning.”
Audrey said, “Don’t hold your breath waiting. I probably won’t be back any time soon.”
She nearly ran out of the cottage, slamming the screen door behind her.
That was the beginning of the end our friendship. It coincided with other disturbing things that reminded me of my first night when I’d thought that someone was watching me in the darkness. It all became intertwined with no real beginning or ending point. If it hadn’t been for those mornings in July when Audrey and I had swum and talked together like friends, I wouldn’t have questioned what started happening, and things might have ended worse . . . much worse.
Trouble was the furthest thing from my mind that August afternoon as I guided Grandma’s little boat across the lake to Kerry’s cottage. Kerry and her mom waved at me and greeted me with shouts of welcome as I neared shore. Kerry’s mom leaned over the water and guided the nose of the boat to the side of their dock. Kerry grabbed the rope and tied the boat so it wouldn’t drift away.
When I stepped onto dry land, Kerry linked her arm through mine and we started up the path to her cottage. “Have you heard our news?” Her voice was shaking with excitement.
“No. What news?”
“When we arrived last night, we found that somebody’d broken in and stolen some of our things.” Kerry’s voice was full of drama. “They took some CDs, a couple of bottles of wine, our cribbage board and the silverware. Can you imagine? At first, Mom thought it was just some kids, but I knew it was that Audrey. Remember they said she was stealing where she came from?”
“I can’t believe that. Whatever would she need with those things?”
“She just did it ’cause she felt like it. You don’t need evidence to know it was her. She has that look about her . . . you know, like she’s bad.”
Now I was getting mad. “You’re wrong, Kerry. Audrey’s not like that, and unless you have proof, I don’t want you accusing Audrey. She’s my friend.”
Kerry dropped my arm and laughed. “You’ll see that I’m right. Even my mom says that it was probably Audrey. Anyhow, it’s up to the police now.” Kerry tossed her head as if that settled things.
I felt sick inside. I knew there were two sides to Audrey. She didn’t let you close to her or invite you to know how she was feeling about pretty near anything. Maybe Audrey was capable of doing what Kerry and her mom thought she’d done, but I didn’t want to believe it. I decided to trust Audrey the same way that I’d want to be trusted. It seemed a small enough gift to give a friend.