Interrupted Page 8

  “So you were friends.”

  “No, I … It was nothing.” Why did I think she’d understand? Why did I think anyone would understand my complicated life?

  I could tell Beatrice had more questions by the way she looked at me, but she remained quiet for the rest of the car ride.

  “Beatrice!” I shouted, grabbing a light sweater from the coatrack by the door. “I’m going out for a soda. Be back in an hour!” I slammed the door behind me and climbed into Beatrice’s car, humming to myself.

  I pulled out of the driveway as I heard Beatrice calling from the steps. She won’t mind if I only take it for a little hour-long ride. I resisted the urge to look behind me.

  I slid into the Goodey’s parking lot and turned off the engine. Charlie’s car was parked beside me, which meant it was going to be a good day.

  “Hey, girl!” Charlie shouted as I entered the diner. She held up a soda and winked. “Are you here for a drink?”

  I rolled my eyes and smiled at the boy behind the counter. “I’ll take a Coke, please.”

  Charlie took a sip of her soft drink and clicked her glass with her long pink fingernails.

  The bell over the door rang, signaling more customers. I turned to see a group of kids from school laughing and joking with each other. They noticed us and waved. “Hey, Allie!” one of the boys shouted, “How many more days of school?”

  “You’ll never get me to engage in conversation with you, Danny Parker!” I called back, flicking my hair.

  “Ouch.” Charlie laughed and nudged me.

  I gave her a dismissive look. “He deserved it. He’s been bothering me ever since ninth grade.”

  Charlie took another sip of her soda. “So are you an elitist now?”

  “If I am, I got it from you.”

  Charlie nodded and kicked the counter with her new shoes. “You know what?”

  “What?” I grabbed my soda from the soda jerk, mumbling a quick thanks.

  “One day you’re going to find a boy who really cares about you, and who you really care about too. Then your elitism is going to get you in trouble.”

  I rolled my eyes, fidgeting on the end of my chair. “Is this about Russell?”

  Charlie held up her hands. “Hey, you mentioned him. Not me.”

  “Because Russell is not my type.”

  She arched an eyebrow. “I didn’t know you had a type.” A slow smile spread across her face as she fiddled with her straw.

  My face flushed. “I don’t.” Sam’s face flashed across my mind, causing me to blush all over again. “I definitely don’t,” I said again, more forcefully this time.

  “Ooookay.” Charlie drew out the word, making it sound anything but okay.

  This topic was getting uncomfortable. I glanced around the room. My eyes fell on the new jukebox. “Hey!” I called to the soda jerk boy. “Does that thing work?”

  The boy shrugged. “Think so.”

  “Have any good records?” Charlie asked. She twirled a blonde curl around her finger and grinned, revealing her two rows of straight teeth.

  The boy squirmed and looked down, grabbing a dish towel. “Um, I think there’s some Benny Goodman and Bing Crosby records over there.”

  I wrinkled my nose. “Crosby’s for old people and mothers. Why don’t you play some Benny Goodman?”

  Charlie giggled and nodded. “I agree.”

  “Sure.” The boy took off his apron and knelt by the shiny jukebox. He slid in a few coins and pressed a button. Within seconds, the orchestra started up and the sounds of Benny Goodman floated into the air.

  The rest of the noise in the diner dimmed to a hush. The kids began to whisper and nudge each other.

  “What song is this?” I asked.

  Charlie looked at the album and smiled. “Conchita, Marquita, Lolita, Pepita, Rosita, Juanita Lopez.”

  I raised an eyebrow and watched the jukebox. “It’s nice.”

  When the song finished, I handed the fountain boy a nickel. “Thanks for the soda.” I slid out of the chair.

  “Oh, wait!”

  I turned to see him holding up a glass jar. “For the war effort.”

  I nodded and pulled out a quarter. “For the war effort.” Then I turned and smiled at Charlie. “I’ve got to get going before Beatrice kills me. ‘Often late to bed makes a girl unfit to wed.’ ” I rolled my eyes. “See you tomorrow.”

  She waved a manicured hand. “See you tomorrow, cupcake.”

  I grinned as the doorbell chimed above my head. Cupcake? What next, Charlie Cooper?

  I sat in the window seat, staring out at the moon again. It was so bright tonight—like a nice, glowing gumdrop that I could just pluck from the sky and suck on.

  I smiled and pulled out my notebook.

  May 30, 1943

  Dear Mama,

  I tapped my pen on the nearly empty page.

  Dear Mama, I …

  I pulled my blue-striped pajamas closer and looked out the window. A nice night for a walk.

  The water felt so good on my bare toes. I closed my eyes and smiled, remembering how nice it felt to be covered in it yesterday, freezing as it was.

  The wind danced through my hair. Allie, it whispered, Allie …

  “The moon is distant from the sea,” someone whispered in my ear. I screamed and whipped around: Sam Carroll. He seemed unfazed by the interruption and continued to recite, “And yet with amber hands she leads him, docile as a boy, along appointed sands.”

  My chest was still pounding. “What are you doing here?”

  He stuck his hands in his pockets and smiled. His hair was mussed again. “That was Dickinson.”

  I glared at him. “I know that was Dickinson.” What did he think I was, stupid?

  “Oh, and so you’ve read Dickinson?” He cocked an eyebrow.

  “Yes, I know Dickinson, and yes, I’ve read that poem. It was very pretty.” I leveled my eyes. “How do you know it?”

  “I’ve read Dickinson.” Sam looked me up and down and smirked a little. “Nice pajamas.”

  I crossed my arms, looking out at the ocean. “Why are you here?”

  “Why are you here?”

  “I couldn’t sleep.”

  “Neither could I.”

  I stomped my foot. “Oh, why are you so impossible?”

  “I’m impossible?” He paused for a second. “I beg your pardon, miss. Perhaps you’re used to men throwing themselves at your feet.”

  That was it. That was it! “You are following me.”

  Sam spread out his hands. “Guilty as charged.”

  My eyes widened. “What are —”

  Sam raised his eyes to the sky. “I’m just joking. Honestly, Allie. I may have come to Maine and everything, but do you really think I knew I was going to find you out here in the middle of the night?”

  I gulped. “So what are you doing here?”

  “I told you: I couldn’t sleep.”

  Why is he so annoying? I heaved a breath. “What are you doing on this beach?”

  “I’m staying with my aunt Rachel, as you know.” He pointed to a big yellow house on the hill. “She lives right—”

  “I know where she lives!” I snapped. Whoa. Calm down, Allie. I took a deep breath and wiggled my toes in the sand. “Sorry. So why are you being so nice?”

  Sam wrinkled his forehead. “Was I ever not nice?”

  “No one’s truly nice.” I glanced up at him. “Besides, you tried to drown me yesterday.”

  “If I recall correctly, the favor was returned.”

  Was he smiling? I felt a shell under my bare foot and reached down to pick it up, turning it over so all the sand ran out. “So …”

  I looked up. Sam was staring at me. I squirmed. “What?”

  “Nothing.” Sam dropped his gaze and kicked at the sand. “I’m just trying to figure out who you are.”

  “I thought you —”

  Sam chuckled. “I don’t actually mean who you are. I mean who you are as a pers
on. It’s been awhile since I last saw you. Maybe you’ve changed.” He squinted at me, as if trying to memorize my features in the dim moonlight. “Are you the dull, lifeless person who sulks around parties, or the lively sprite who tumbles around in the ocean?”

  I laughed and splashed water on his clean trousers. He ducked and kicked back. I squealed and ran down the oceanfront, spraying water everywhere, not caring if Beatrice saw or heard.

  The stars were so bright and clear. And so distant.

  “How many stars do you think there are?” Sam whispered.

  “Don’t know.” I sighed and shifted a little, the cold, hard rock firm underneath me. I craned my neck so I could see Sam lying on a rock only a few feet from me, staring up at the same sky. “Billions, I guess.” I sat up, overcome with an urge to impress him. I bit the corner of my mouth and pointed at the constellation Taurus. “See that star?”

  “What star?” Sam raised himself a little.

  “That one, the third brightest.” I settled back on the rock and smiled. “It’s called Alcyone.”

  “Really?” Sam squinted up at it, interested. “It’s beautiful.”

  “I know,” I whispered. “When it rises, it means the cold autumn is coming.”

  “Oh.”

  We sat in silence for a long while, staring up at the heavens above us. My heart squeezed for a moment, thinking about Mama and how much she enjoyed stargazing.

  “So tell me about this Beatrice Lovell.” Sam propped up his elbow. “Is she your mom now?”

  “No.” My voice was cold and flat. I cringed and looked away.

  “But I though she said —”

  “Beatrice lives in a state of delusion.” I stared up at my namesake star. “She thinks we’re this idyllic little mother and daughter family and that everything is perfect and she chose me because she knows I’m … as wonderful as she is or something.” I scowled at the sky. The stars didn’t seem so friendly anymore. Now they were just teasing me — playing with my emotions.

  “So … she adopted you?”

  “I came here only because I had to.”

  Sam stared at me for a second. “It can’t be that bad. She seems nice, I mean.”

  “She’s okay.” I sighed. “It’s just … she wants to be my mom. She’s always trying to figure out how I feel and trying to get into my head. And constantly trying to get me to open up to her.” My voice hardened. “She’s not my mom.”

  “Oh.”

  I turned to look at Sam again. He was studying the stars with a sort of fierce frown on his face, so different from the dopey little Sam Carroll I used to know, and yet so much the same.

  “So what about your family, Sam? Why are you here in Maine?”

  He exhaled slowly. “Robert died.”

  I sat up straight. “Your brother?” Sweet Robby with the blue eyes and dimples? “How?”

  “Killed in action.” Sam caught my dismayed face and gave me a wan smile. “Mother and Father don’t support the war, so he ran off last summer to enlist. He was fifteen.”

  I felt sick to my stomach. “Sam, I had no idea … I …”

  Sam shook his head and gave me that thin little smile again. “Don’t. I’m kind of sick of hearing it.”

  I watched him for a few seconds more, waiting to see if he’d say anything else. “Oh.” I eased myself back onto the rock. The wind changed, sending a warm breeze of sea salt in our direction. I licked my lips and stayed silent.

  “Did you really know that poem I recited earlier?” Sam asked.

  “Every word.” I traced letters on the rock with my finger. “ ‘The Moon is Distant from the Sea.’ I’ve always liked it.” I shot him a smile. “But you must have found that out somehow.”

  Sam held up a hand. “Lucky guess. I swear.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “You know, you don’t strike me as the kind who memorizes poetry.”

  “And you don’t strike me as the kind who writes it.”

  I shot up again. “How did you —”

  “Relax.” Sam spread out his hands. “I saw it on the page of that journal you were scribbling in yesterday. Don’t look at me like that: I promise I didn’t read it. I just saw the first line.”

  Giving him my darkest look, I growled, “You’d better not tell Beatrice. No one knows about what’s in that notebook. Not even Charlie. I’d kill you if —”

  “Charlie?” Sam was looking at me funny.

  “A girlfriend. Charlie Cooper. She lives right over —”I began to point.

  “I know where the Coopers live,” Sam snapped in a girly voice.

  I paused for a minute, then allowed myself to smile. Touché. “Sorry.”

  “So, does this … Charlie … write poetry too?”

  I snorted. “Hardly.”

  “So who inspired you?”

  I took a deep breath. “Mama.” I looked at him and tried to look happy. He was watching me intently, as if I were an insect or something. I squirmed and focused on the rock. “It was her dream for me to become a famous poet. Our dream.” I swallowed. “I’m going to do it one day.”

  My heart crumbled a little around the edges; I’d put all thoughts about my life with her out of my mind a long time ago.

  “You know, I can remember what she was like before the sickness,” Sam said, rubbing his hands together. “I never did see her much, but the few times I did she was really sweet. She treated me like I was an adult, not a little kid.” He turned and looked at me. “I think you’re a lot like her.”

  “Really?” I smiled. “How so?”

  Sam shrugged. “Your mother lived out her fantasies. And I think you live out yours too.”

  I barked out a laugh. “You think it’s my fantasy to live here in Maine?”

  He shook his head. “No. It’s to write.”

  “Yeah. I guess you’re right.” I pressed my lips together.

  Sam took a deep breath and let it out. “I’m sorry, Allie. I know it must have hurt.”

  I twisted the end of my pajama top around my finger and then let it go. “Not at first. But as she got worse … the things people said … That’s what hurt. They called her crazy. It got to the point where I couldn’t even go into town anymore.” My eyelids slid shut, blocking out the tears. I cleared my throat and tried again.

  I bit the side of my mouth and tried to swallow the lump in my throat. What was this? I never cried anymore. I was like these ocean-side rocks now. Firm, steady. “I didn’t understand how people could be so cruel. So judgmental.” I shrugged and trailed to a stop, not trusting myself to talk.

  Sam was silent. Listening. And I realized he was the only one who might truly understand what I’d gone through.

  I cleared my throat. “We never went out anymore. You know that.” I peeked at him between closed lids. “After that I took care of her; took care of the house. I made the meals and cleaned and looked after the cat. Right on up until she died. Sometimes …” I opened my eyes again, but this time the stars were blurry. Unrecognizable. “I would have kept on doing it, Sam. I would have kept on cleaning forever if it had kept her alive. Honest.”

  I turned and looked at him. He was watching me. Sam smiled a little and nodded. “I know.”

  An awkward silence fell over us. I shook off my tears and settled back on the rock. “Um, can you see the Big Dipper?”

  Sam pointed at the sky. “Up there. It’s the one that kinda looks like a crooked pencil.”

  “It does not!”

  “Does too!” he protested. “See it, there? Hmm? A crooked pencil, I’m telling you!”

  I huffed and jumped up. “I’m leaving. You’re a bore, Sam Carroll.” I could hear him laughing as I walked back up the beach alone.

  “Allie!”

  I turned and waited, a teasing grin ready.

  Sam smiled. “You haven’t changed.”

  My stomach tickled. “Thank you.” I paused. “I’m glad.”

  Chapter 9

  I’m nobody! Who are you?


  Are you nobody, too?

  Then there’s a pair of us—don’t tell!

  They’d banish us, you know.

  — Emily Dickinson

  I opened the back door and crept through the kitchen. A light was on in the library. Not good.

  I put one foot on the staircase, and was met with a loud creak. I cringed. Please, no, please …

  “Allie?”

  I sighed and trudged into the library, where Beatrice was sitting in her reading chair, a book discarded in her lap. She took off her glasses and looked up at me.

  “Alcyone Lovell,” she said, crossing her arms. “Would you please read me the time on that clock?”

  I glanced at it. “Two thirty.”

  “AM?”

  I refused to answer, looking down at my bare toes on the Oriental rug.

  Beatrice heaved a heavy breath. “Allie, where have you been?”

  I glanced up. There was genuine concern on her face, stinging my conscience. “You wouldn’t care,” I muttered, kicking the floor.

  That caught her attention. “What do you mean? Allie, I’ve been sitting here for over an hour …”

  “Of course you’ve been sitting here.” I crossed my arms. “You’re always sitting there … So patient. So perfect. Just waiting for me and my stupid mistakes to mess up your life again.”

  Beatrice’s face flushed. “Now listen here, Alcyone,” she said, her voice quiet but firm. “This is my house and in it we abide by my rules. And I will not have you —”

  “Your house?” My voice broke and I slid into the armchair across from her. “Of course it’s your house. It’s always been your house. This has never been my house.” A tear slipped down my cheek. I brushed at it and looked down.

  All the anger and frustrations of the past four years still felt bottled up inside me. It seemed like I was always hurting — always lashing out. But the issues never really felt settled.

  “Alcyone.” Beatrice sounded pained. I knew she was probably tired and didn’t feel like having this conversation again right now, but she pressed on. “Allie, I’ve always wanted this to be our house. I’ve always wanted us to be a family.” She reached out and placed her slightly wrinkled hand over mine, squeezing it.