Interrupted Read online

  “But you danced with me.”

  I laughed. “I didn’t have a choice.”

  Sam bristled. “You could have pushed me away.”

  “And risk embarrassing myself in front of everyone? I’d never do that.” I sighed and fiddled with my skirt. “Besides, I’ve known you practically forever. And you don’t even go to our school, so none of the boys will try to fight with you.”

  Sam’s forehead wrinkled. “Boys fight over you?”

  I tilted one side of my mouth and focused on the floor. “It happened in ninth grade, so I haven’t talked to any of them since.”

  “Oh.” Sam went silent.

  I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye, but couldn’t tell what he was thinking. My stomach felt queasy. Did I offend him?

  Just as I began to open my mouth, people began filing into the parlor, and I was lost in the wave. Mrs. Wilkinson was standing by a piano on an impromptu stage like a queen on her dais, beckoning people toward her.

  “Come, come!” she called, excitement in her voice. “You don’t expect us to just stand around and talk all night, do you? We need some real entertainment!”

  The guests cheered; one fellow even whistled.

  Mrs. Wilkinson laughed. “Now, now, settle down.” She looked around. “Who will be the first to perform? Don’t be shy, youngsters! No one here will judge.” She winked.

  The room began to hum as people whispered among themselves.

  “I’ll sing,” a timid voice said.

  Everyone turned to see Charlie biting her lip, looking nervous. Russell began to clap loudly.

  The crowd applauded, nodding their heads. Mrs. Wilkinson’s smile faltered only slightly as she swept out her arm grandly. “The stage is yours, Charlie. Do you perform without music?”

  “I can.” Charlie allowed Russell to help her onto the stage. Once settled she straightened her skirt and chewed on her lip. “Um, do you think ‘My Funny Valentine’ is okay?”

  “If you sing it, it is!” Sam shouted.

  “Okay.” Charlie giggled. “Here goes …”

  As Charlie opened her mouth and began to sing, she changed from stage-struck to confident star. Her eyes brightened and her cheeks flushed, while her honey-blonde curls shone in the candlelight.

  She leaned on the piano as she sang, glancing at Russell before shyly looking away. Nearly every young man in the room glared at the lucky man, not that he noticed, I’m sure. He was beaming up at Charlie.

  Charlie hit the last note and trailed off, looking nervous again. An awkward silence fell over the room before everyone burst into a thundering applause.

  “That was Charlotte Cooper.” Mrs. Wilkinson stepped onto the stage and, to my surprise, whispered something in Charlie’s ear. Charlie smiled and looked down at Russell, blushing.

  “Did you know she could sing?” Sam asked me, clapping loudly.

  I shrugged. “Charlie’s been my best friend for four years and sometimes I still feel like I don’t know that much about her. She’s never mentioned singing.”

  There was another round of applause as Charlie bowed again and scurried off the little stage.

  A few more amateur performances followed —a couple second-rate singers and a young dancer with some talent. Mrs. Wilkinson stepped back onto the stage and looked around, wringing her hands as she searched the crowd. “Come now,” she said, and I sensed a little desperation in her tone. “Doesn’t anyone else want to perform?” The audience was silent.

  I looked around. All the young people around me ducked their heads, avoiding Mrs. Wilkinson’s stare. I didn’t blame them.

  Beside me, Sam suddenly stood. “Alcyone Everly can play the piano.”

  “What?” I whirled around and narrowed my eyes. He avoided my glance.

  A disapproving murmur spread through the crowd. Beatrice stood and frowned at Sam. “Allie doesn’t know how. I’ve been trying to convince her to take lessons for years.”

  He shook his head. “She can play. Quite beautifully too.”

  I glared at him. “What are you doing?” I hissed. He shrugged, his eyes wide and innocent.

  “Allie, can you play a song?” Mrs. Wilkinson looked confused.

  I sighed. “Yes.”

  “Well, will you come up here? I think we’re all interested in hearing what you can do. Don’t let this fellow’s words disappoint us.” She waved a glove in Sam’s direction.

  After giving Sam one last look, I made my way to the piano. I could feel the eyes of nearly one hundred partygoers boring into my back. “Do you have any sheet music?” I whispered to Mrs. Wilkinson.

  She shook her head. “I’m sorry, but no.” She lowered her voice. “None of us actually know how to play it.”

  “Oh well …” I turned to the audience and forced myself to look happy. I’ll just have to play something from memory. I slid onto the bench and stretched my fingers. Just over the lid of the piano, I could see Beatrice watching me, a mixture of confusion and surprise on her face. I looked down and began to play.

  Ravel’s “Pavane for a Dead Princess” was the only song I could play by memory. As my fingers slid over the keys, all my years of practicing swept back over me. I smiled slowly—it felt so good to be playing again.

  I could hear the audience murmuring, but I didn’t look up. Closing my eyes, I let the music take over me.

  As the song swelled, my eyes opened. A horrid memory flashed across my mind — the day of Mama’s funeral.

  It took all I had to finish the song without breaking down. As soon as the last note died down, I stood and briefly bowed before running off the stage and out of the room, leaving the thundering applause behind me.

  I burst into the Wilkinson’s library and hid as I tried to control my tears. Everything was blurry behind my veil of tears. I buried my face in a bookshelf and sobbed, grabbing a chair for support.

  “Allie?” The door creaked open and Beatrice stuck her head in. At the sight of my tear-streaked face, she shut the door behind her and rushed toward me. “Allie, what are you crying for?” She seemed tender as she reached out to smooth back my hair. “That was beautiful! I had no idea …”

  “Stop it!” I jerked my head back and bored my eyes into hers. She winced, and I lowered my voice. “Just stop it.” My shoulders shook as I tried to regain my composure. “Please, just leave me alone.”

  Beatrice puckered her brow. “Allie, I don’t understand.”

  Of course she doesn’t. I ducked my head so she couldn’t see my tears. A wet drop splashed onto a book beneath me before I could furiously wipe the moisture from my face. “I haven’t played,” I whispered, “since my mother died. That … that was the song I played after my mother died … on the day I had to leave for Maine.” I pressed my toe against the ground, concentrating on the waves of pain it sent up my leg.

  “Oh, Allie …” Beatrice’s voice softened.

  I turned away from her. “I just … I want to go home.”

  “Okay.” Beatrice nodded. “I can take you home.”

  I turned my head and stared at her. Her face was illuminated by the candles in the library and the lights from the party behind her.

  I shook my head, my stomach dropping. “You can’t take me home.” I buried my head in a pile of books. You’ll never be able to take me home.

  Chapter 12

  The earth has many keys,

  Where melody is not

  Is the unknown peninsula.

  Beauty is nature’s fact.

  — Emily Dickinson

  Here, try this one.” Charlie handed me a fresh blueberry and watched my face. I popped the berry into my mouth, and the juice washed over my tongue.

  “Delicious.”

  “I thought so.” Charlie smoothed out her dress. “I have a talent for finding fresh berries. I always know exactly when they’re ripe.”

  “Then I’m glad to have you around.” I bumped her shoulder, nearly causing her to drop her basket.

  The warm aft
ernoon sun was beating down on us. Little sweat drops trickled down my back, tickling my skin.

  “Do you think Beatrice will make us a pie?” Charlie licked her lips as if she could already taste the sticky sweetness.

  The little blueberry patch tucked into the corner of the countryside was bursting with berries. I smiled. “We certainly have enough.”

  “And I think we’ve picked plenty.” Charlie rocked back on her heels and popped a blueberry into her mouth. I watched as her eyes surveyed the empty countryside, her squinting eyes finally landing on a little red barn at the bottom of the hill. “Have you ever been in there?”

  “No.” I stood and shaded my eyes. “I don’t think there’s anything in there.”

  “You mean it’s abandoned?” Charlie practically shivered with excitement. “Come on, Allie, let’s act like little girls and go exploring. It’ll be fun.” She wrapped her fingers around my arm. “Follow me.”

  I dropped my basket and ran through the tall grass behind Charlie, trailing my fingers through the golden waves surrounding me. For the first time in many days I felt alive and happy and full.

  She skidded to a stop in front of the barn. It was covered in cobwebs and dust, the cracked windows letting in only slits of sunlight and fresh air.

  I glanced over my shoulder, to where the car was parked at the top of the hill. “Do you think it’s okay up there?”

  Charlie shrugged. “There’s no one around for miles. Come on, let’s go inside.” She pushed open the barn door with a creak and giggled.

  A cloud of dust rained down on our heads as the heavy doors swung open. I squealed and jumped back as a spider slowly spun down from its elevated web.

  I leaped again when Charlie squeezed my arm. “Allie, it’s so creepy.”

  Steeling myself, I stepped inside the barn and looked around. A musty smell hung in the air. Dust fell from the rafters, and old piles of hay were clustered around the ground. But the sun shone through the peeling beams in the most peculiar way, casting an eerie light over the large room.

  “I like it,” I decided. “It’s a bit spooky, but also very charming.”

  I settled down on a bale of ancient hay and propped my chin in my hands. Charlie sat in front of me and smiled slowly. “Tell me a secret,” she said.

  My mouth twitched. “Hmmm … a secret.” I traced my lips with my finger, thinking. “I never knew how to swim until this summer.”

  Charlie frowned. “That’s not a secret. I’ve known that for years, and I already figured out that Sam boy taught you how to swim.” She straightened. “Tell me a secret about Sam.”

  I gulped. “What do you want to know?”

  “Something about him you’ve never told anyone before.” Charlie shifted on the hay. “Something good.”

  “Um, okay.” I looked up at the sunlight peeking through the rafters, illuminating the dust that danced through the air. The room seemed to sit still—the silence stretching on. As I searched my memory for a secret about Sam, a piece of hair fell over my eye. I blew it off and squirmed.

  “One year for my birthday, Sam gave me a set of chalks.” I bit my lip, holding back a smile. My voice softened. “It was the best gift I ever got.” I remembered how I received the gift, and all at once I wished I could go back in time and change how I’d treated him.

  “That’s not much of a secret,” Charlie said, annoyed. “I was hoping for something a little more … exciting.” She wiggled her blonde eyebrows at me.

  I lifted my chin and shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. He’s a boring boy, anyway. Never did anything worth sharing.” I shoved away the voice inside my head that argued otherwise. “Tell me a secret of your own.”

  A shy smile crept across Charlie’s face. “Well, I do have a little secret.”

  “What about?”

  Charlie giggled and wrapped her arms around herself. “I heard Russell talking to his mother the other night.” She sighed. “He complimented her on her shoes …”

  I snorted, then coughed to cover it up.

  “Then he told her he thought I was pretty and smart and wonderful.” Charlie glanced at me pointedly. “Those were his exact words: ‘pretty, smart, and wonderful.’ Mrs. Wilkinson said she couldn’t disagree.” She fiddled with a piece of hay. “Do you think he likes me?”

  I resituated myself so I lay on my stomach. “Of course he does.”

  “Then why doesn’t he tell me?”

  I laughed. “He does — with everything but words. Don’t worry, Charlie, I think he’ll be around for a good while longer.” I wrapped a dark piece of hair around my finger.

  Charlie smiled, looking down at her hands. She rubbed her ring finger and grew quiet, her bright face dimming. “Annie Merimont still wears her engagement ring. I saw her at the grocery store the other day and there it was, plain as the nose on my face.”

  My mouth twitched. “Well, it’s only been a few months.”

  “Still.” Charlie rolled onto her stomach and looked at me. “Annie thought Gerry would be around for a long time too. And he died eight weeks before the wedding.”

  I shifted, uncomfortable. “Charlie, it’s a time of war. That kind of thing happens. Russell’s not going anywhere. He’ll be fine. We all will.”

  Charlie let out a little sigh and sat up again. Shafts of light peeked through the rafters, illuminating the dust floating in the air. “I know, I know. It’s just …” She trailed off and turned toward me. “I don’t know how things are going to turn out. No one really does. Not us, not Germany, not Japan, not England …” She began chewing a fingernail, then caught herself. “I’m just starting to think stuff matters. Like Russell matters now. He’s not just some boy who I want to date for a while and then hurt and throw away. I’ve dated every boy in town. And Russell’s never even thought about any other girl.”

  I snorted. Charlie shook her head. “I mean, other than you or me.” She wrinkled her nose. “It’s just … I’m thinking about tomorrow. And the next day. And all the days after that.” She shrugged, still looking as cute and innocent as the day I met her. “I don’t want to be alone.”

  Charlie Cooper being philosophical? I lowered my brow. “Why would you be alone, Charlie? You’re beautiful and sweet and lovable. You don’t have to worry about that.”

  A tiny pucker appeared on her forehead. “What if … What if it’s not enough? Maybe being pretty and sweet and good isn’t good enough in the end.” Her blue eyes clouded over in thought. “The Japanese could come and kill us all any day. They could drop a bomb on us right this very instant! And then …” She shook her head slowly. “Then what would we do? Would being pretty and nice be enough?” She looked ready to cry. “What would happen next?”

  I pulled myself upright and pushed the thought away. “There is no God. It doesn’t really matter.”

  Charlie shrugged her small shoulders, causing hair to tumble off her back. “Can’t be sure. Not completely.” She blew the hay off her finger and watched it fall to the ground. “I guess we’ll never be sure until it’s over.”

  I stared at the fallen hay until my eyes went out of focus. I guess we’ll never be sure until it’s over …

  I wrapped my arms around myself, suddenly feeling cold. Could I be sure? What if even I was wrong about God and heaven? What could I be sure of then?

  Charlie shook her hair and giggled. “Maybe I’m being silly. I sure feel silly. Sitting here thinking all wisely with hay in my hair.”

  I rolled my eyes. “It isn’t the best place in the world to be philosophical. Rats could get us at any moment.”

  “Let’s go.” Charlie grabbed my hand in her slender, pale one and pulled me toward the door.

  I turned the light on in Beatrice’s library and looked around. I hadn’t been in the room for four years — shunning it ever since the day of my arrival.

  The design seemed practically untouched since I’d been in there last. A few added shelves here and there and a small reading desk, but nothing outrageously new
.

  I settled behind the little desk and ran my fingers over the smooth mahogany wood. It was lovely. My skin crawled as I fought down the urge to jump up and run, my mind replaying the thought, This is Beatrice’s desk, not yours.

  Beatrice once said it could be mine, didn’t she? She said it could be “our house.”

  I pulled out my notebook and opened to a new page, smoothing it down as I reached for a writing instrument. Pressing the cold pen to my lips, my hand paused over the paper. How did that poem start off?

  The pen seemed to fly of its own accord over the paper, swirling and looping as it crafted line after line. I closed my eyes and remembered how it felt to be spinning across the dance floor “cheek to cheek.”

  Where is Sam right now? I bit my lip and glanced out the window. Maybe he was outside, standing on the beach and watching the waves.

  I paused only a second before pushing away from the desk and heading out the side door. I’d like to ask him if—

  I halted mid-step. The beach was empty, with the exception of a few laughing children and their parents. I sighed and stuck my notebook under my arm, shuffling back toward the house. I didn’t really want to see him anyway.

  A whistle pierced the air, sounding off a familiar tune. I whirled around; the sound was coming from Rachel Piper’s backyard.

  I ran down the beach and up the hill, my thoughts flying as fast as my feet. I skidded to a stop in the middle of Rachel’s yard. Sam was sitting under an apple tree, whistling to himself while he whittled away at a piece of wood.

  He looked up in surprise. “Hi.”

  “Hi.” My lungs were screaming. I crumpled onto the ground in front of Sam and placed a hand on my heaving chest. A smile twitched on my mouth as he frowned at me in bewilderment. “Daydreaming?” I asked.

  His eyes warmed and he shook his head, holding up the wood. “Whittling.”

  “What is it? A boat?” I reached out for the lumpy project, puzzling as I turned it over in my hands. I looked up to see Sam smiling wryly.

  “No, it’s a pencil.”

  A snort escaped my nose. I clamped a hand over my face to hide my giggles. “A pencil?” I finally managed. I bit my lip, suppressing more laughter. “How long —”I coughed and forced a serious expression. “How long have you been carving?”