Maggie

FROM THE LIVING-ROOM WINDOW, I SAW JEN PULL INTO OUR driveway in her beat-up black car. There was a dent in the passenger-side door, and the paint had worn off in so many places that the car looked almost gray.

I grabbed my purse and headed outside. We were going to Sears Landing Grill for dinner. Jen had talked me into it. My first real public appearance on the island since I got home, and I was nervous about it. Sears Landing was the kind of place where everybody knew everybody else, and everybody would know me, that was for sure. I hoped it wasn’t a totally stupid idea. Mom was psyched that I actually had a social life. “I’m so glad you’re finally getting out!” she’d said. But I could tell that even she was worried about me making my post-prison debut.

“Hi,” I said as I got into Jen’s car.

She was leaning forward, looking through the windshield at my house.

“Is your family home?” she asked.

“Uh-uh,” I said. “Maybe you can meet them when we come back.” Mom and Andy were at a swim meet, and they were bringing Kimmie back with them. It was an at-home date for Kimmie and Andy. They’d eat pizza and watch a DVD. I had the feeling they’d be having a lot of at-home dates for a while as Mom guarded Kimmie’s virtue. Uncle Marcus thought Andy and Kimmie were getting too close and needed better supervision. I thought he must have had a talk with Andy about sex, because he was really serious about it. Mom even called Kimmie’s mother to tell her to keep an eye on the two of them. I couldn’t believe Andy was thinking about doing it. Ben had been my first. Of course, I’d been seventeen and Andy would be seventeen in a few months, so maybe I shouldn’t have been so surprised. But Andy couldn’t possibly know what a can of worms he was opening once he took that first step.

Jen was still looking at my house. “I would seriously love a tour of your house,” she said.

“Now? Or when we come back so you can meet everyone?”

“How about now, while it’s still light out?”

“Sure,” I said, getting out of the car again. “Let’s go.”

Jen was majorly into the house. I could tell she really had a thing for design. “Your mom has awesome taste,” she said, admiring the furniture and paint colors and draperies and all the things I took for granted. She walked through the downstairs, checking it out like she was looking for a house to buy. Seriously, I expected her to start opening the kitchen cupboards any second. She loved the porch and stood for a long time staring out at the sound and our pier.

“How come you don’t have a boat?” she asked. “I would, if I had a pier like that. I’d just go out my back door, hop in my boat and travel all over the place.”

“My mother’s not wild about boats,” I said. “She said Andy can get a kayak, though. And Uncle Marcus has a couple of boats, so I think she’s starting to loosen up about it.”

“He’s a fireman, right?”

“Yeah. Fire marshal. He and my mom are getting really tight. As in, romantically.”

Her blue eyes widened. “But he’s your uncle!”

I laughed. “My father’s brother. Not my mother’s. It’s kind of cool, actually.”

“Things work out for your family,” she said.

What was that supposed to mean? “They’re better than they were,” I said. “Definitely.”

“Your uncle doesn’t live here, though, does he? I mean, you said about him having boats like he might dock them here.”

“He just about has been living here,” I said, “but now Keith—the son of that woman who went missing—”

“Sara Weston.”

“Right. Her son is moving in with my uncle because he’s only seventeen and he’d have to go to a foster home if he didn’t. So I don’t think he’ll be over here quite as much.” How had we all forgotten Keith’s age? Mom felt absolutely terrible about it, but with the police saying he was eighteen, nobody stopped to figure it out.

Jen pushed open the porch door as if she wanted to go outside, but then she closed it again.

“Does your bedroom have a view of the sound, too?” she asked.

“Uh-huh,” I said. “Come see.” I walked back into the house, and Jen followed me, pulling the door closed behind her. “Do you want me to lock this?” she asked.

“Nah,” I said. “They’ll be home soon.”

“It’s nice living someplace where you don’t have to worry about locking your doors,” she said.

“Well, we do sometimes lock them now, since I’m not exactly Miss Popularity around here at the moment.” There I was, talking about me and my life again. Tonight was the night I’d planned to ask her questions about herself. “Do you have to worry about that kind of thing in Asheville?” I asked.

“It’s not bad,” she said, following me up the stairs.

“I’ll show you my mom’s room first, because hers is the only one you’re going to like.” I laughed.

My mother’s room was perfect, with blue walls and blue-and-brown bedding, and a view of the sound outside the big windows.

“I love that painting.” Jen pointed to the massive painting of a flock of geese above the headboard. “The colors are perfect in here. It’s awesome.”

“Yeah, well, now I’ll take you to the tasteless part of the house. My brother’s room and mine.”

I showed her Andy’s room, which was actually in pretty good shape except that it still had that teenage-boy smell to it. I hoped it didn’t gross Jen out.

“What’s all this?” She walked over to Andy’s corkboard wall and started reading one of my mother’s charts.

“My mother makes charts to help keep him organized,” I said.

“Do you get along with him?”

“Totally,” I said. “He’s easy to get along with.”

“I remember seeing him on the Today show,” she said, fingering the corner of one of the charts. “He was cute.”

“You’ll love him,” I said. “You can meet him and his girlfriend when we get back from dinner. Do you want to see my room?”

She followed me into my very yellow room. The sun was sinking toward the sound and the sky and clouds were turning a purply pink. Jen stared at the sound the way she had from our porch, and I had the feeling she was drawn to water the same way I was. I wondered what it was like for her living in landlocked Asheville.

“You’re so lucky to live here,” she said.

“I know.”

“You’re so lucky,” she said again. I could see the purple of the sunset reflected in her eyes. “You’ve got a great family and everything.”

It was my invitation to ask her about herself, and I wasn’t going to miss it.

“How about your family?” I asked. “What are they like?”

She turned to me with a scrunched-up expression on her face. “I don’t really like to talk about my family,” she said.

And that was pretty much the end of that.

 

I was so nervous as we pulled into the Sears Landing parking lot. Jen parked the car and opened her door, but I just sat there. She looked at me.

“Are you freaking out, or what?” she asked.

“Just mildly,” I said. I was remembering the last time I was there, when Uncle Marcus told me about my father’s affair with Sara. The waitress who served us was a girl I knew from high school named Georgia Ann. Did she still work there? I didn’t want to see her. I’d thought I was so much better than her. Smarter. Prettier. Better off. I’m sure she wouldn’t want to see me any more than I wanted to see her.

“Come on,” Jen said. “It’ll be fine.”

Easy for her to say. I got out of the car and walked with her into the building. It was a weeknight, off-season, but the restaurant was still busy and no one paid any attention to us as we waited to be seated. One of the posters I’d made about Sara was taped to the counter in front of us. I pointed to it. “She’s still gone.”

“Yeah. I know. It looks really bad, doesn’t it.”

“I just don’t get it,” I said. “The police have all these bulletins out all over the East Coast looking for her car and nothing’s turned up.”

“I think she killed herself, like that other woman did,” Jen said. “Maybe she did it out in the boonies so she and her car wouldn’t be found.”

“Oh, please don’t say that,” I said. I wanted Sara to be safe somewhere. I knew it looked grim. I hated—hated—the idea that she might have been down enough to kill herself.

One of the waitresses finally appeared and led us to a table. She smiled right at me as she handed me a menu. Didn’t even bat an eye. Maybe this would be okay after all.

“See?” Jen said as she opened her menu. “No one’s paying any attention to you.”

“You’re right,” I said. “Sorry to be such a baby.”

“No problem.”

I was torn between keeping my face buried in the menu and looking around for Georgia Ann so that I could be sure to avoid her.

A different waitress showed up to take our orders. “Know what you’d like to drink?” she asked, and I could tell by the way she stared at me that this one knew who I was. I actually stammered as I ordered a Coke.

I watched the waitress walk back to the kitchen. “She’ll probably spit into it before she brings it out to me,” I said.

“You’re really getting paranoid,” Jen said. I thought she sounded a little annoyed, like my self-pity was getting to her. It probably was annoying.

I remembered what we’d been talking about before we were seated. Sara. Killing herself. I didn’t want to go there again. But Jen didn’t want to talk about her family, so I’d have to try something else.

“Well, update me,” I said. “How’s your college search going?” That always seemed to be a safe topic with her.

“Pretty good.” She sipped iced tea through her straw. “The library’s just not the same without you, though.”

“Yeah, no spitting,” I said. Stop it, I told myself, but she laughed.

“If I decide I want to go out of state,” she said, “I have to move, like, yesterday, so I can become a resident wherever the school is. It’s so much cheaper if you’re a resident. That’s the only way I could afford it.”

“Uh-huh.” I felt a big, thick, black cloud over my head at the thought of her leaving. I couldn’t believe how attached I felt to her already. My one friend. “I hope you don’t move,” I said.

The waitress put my Coke down in front of me.

“Y’all know what you want?” she asked.

We ordered crab-cake sandwiches with fries, and the waitress didn’t bother to write it down. Just slapped up our menus and took off for the kitchen.

Jen twirled her straw in her tea. “I’m not deciding anything about school yet,” she said. “Life’s too good here right now. I love getting to hang out on the beach.”

“Your tan is awesome,” I said.

“Mostly fake and bake,” she said. “I use SPF 40 on the beach but I hate to be pale.”

“Like me,” I said. A year in prison could wash the color out of anyone.

“You’d be beautiful even if you were green,” she said.

For the first time, I wondered if she might be a lesbian. I hoped not. That was all I needed. A few of the women in prison had come on to me, but I’d been able to avoid any major run-ins. Some guys, back when I was in high school, used to say I was pretty or hot or whatever. Ben’s the only one who ever used that word: beautiful. But then I remembered Jen’s birth control pills. Thank God.

“So how’s the hospital?” she asked. “Still working out?”

“I totally love it,” I said. “Everyone’s really nice and the kids are…they’re amazing and brave and they need me.” Miss Helen said that all the nurses were talking about me after the incident with Madison and her “real” father. “You were cool, calm and collected,” she’d told me.

“Hospitals give me the creeps,” Jen said.

“I actually kind of like it,” I said.

“Maybe you can find a cute doctor there to hook up with,” she said.

“Uh,” I said, smiling, “no, thanks. I’m not hooking up with anybody for a long time. Although there is this doctor at the hospital who reminds me of Ben.”

“Ben…the guy you lit the fire for?”

“I didn’t light it.”

She rolled her eyes. “Set it,” she said. “Whatever.”

“Yeah. That’s the guy. I can’t stand that I’m attracted to someone who reminds me of him. I want to be totally over him. I am over him.”

“I was only joking about hooking up with a doctor, you know,” Jen said. “I mean, how old is this guy?”

“I don’t know. About Ben’s age.”

“Seriously? How old was Ben?”

“Eleven years older than me.”

“Get out!” She leaned back from the table to stare at me. “You’re crazy!”

“I know.”

“You better talk to your shrink about this before you do something stupid.”

What did she mean by something stupid? Set a fire?

“I’m not going to do anything stupid,” I said. “I’m in control.” I was desperate to turn the conversation around to her. “So, how about you? Do you have a boyfriend? Have you met any guys while you’ve been hanging out on the beach?”

“Not really,” she said. “Just to say hey to.”

From the corner of my eye, I saw a woman approach our table, and I knew it wasn’t our waitress because this woman wore a skirt. I was afraid to look up in case it was Georgia Ann.

“Maggie Lockwood?”

I braced myself and looked at her. She was middle-aged with short fluffy blond hair and blue eyes, and she looked familiar, but I couldn’t place her. She stared at me, and I went stiff, ready to be spit at or worse.

“Yes.” My hands tightened around the napkin in my lap. I thought Jen was holding her breath.

“I’m Lurleen Wright,” she said. “Henderson Wright’s mother?”

Oh, God. Henderson Wright was the boy killed in the fire. I remembered his picture blown up poster-size at the memorial service. He and his family had been homeless. They’d lived in a car.

“I’m so sorry.” My tongue clicked against the roof of my mouth, it was so dry.

“I just want you to know that me and my husband forgive you,” she said calmly. Her hands were folded in front of her, her purse dangling from them. “I know some people are still hangin’ on to their anger, but we ain’t.”

My cheeks burned. I’d been so ready for an attack. An attack might’ve been easier to hear. This was like a gift I didn’t deserve. I felt Jen’s eyes on me.

“Thank you.” It came out a whisper. “I’m still…I wish I could undo—”

“I know.” She put her hand on my shoulder. “I know you do. You ain’t evil. Jesus tells us to forgive others to find our own salvation.”

I nodded. My neck felt like it was made out of wood.

“And listen,” she said, “I know you’re not religious. I remember your daddy’s church from long ago…that seekers place?”

“Free Seekers,” I said.

“Right. And I know that must’ve had a right terrible influence on you coming up. But if you want to come to our church with us some Sunday, we’d love to bring you. You’d find your own salvation there, Maggie. I’m sure of it.”

“Thank you,” I said again.

She reached into her purse and brought out a postcard. “We had these made up,” she said, handing it to me. “You might want to have one.”

I looked down at Henderson’s face. Smiling. Not like the scared picture of him they used at the service. Beneath it, it said, God needed another angel. Henderson Emery Wright. 1992–2007.

“Thank you,” I said again. They were the only words I seemed able to find.

“Okay, honey. You call me if you want to come to church. We’re in an apartment now. In the phone book.”

I nodded, and she walked away smiling to herself. I was paying for their apartment with the restitution money, I realized. Probably for their dinner here at Sears Landing, too. I was glad. That was the way it should be.

“Bizarre,” Jen whispered. Her eyes were wide.

“That was nice of her,” I said. “I mean…I don’t deserve it, but she’s the first person to say anything like that to me.”

“She wants to convert you,” Jen said. “That’s why. Would you go to church with her?”

I shook my head, although I felt drawn to that word she’d used. Salvation. I remembered Dr. Jakes congratulating me for arranging the job at the hospital myself: This is the first step in saving yourself.

“What did she mean about your father’s church?”

“Daddy built a chapel at the north end of the Island before I was born,” I said. “He wanted people to be able to, you know…worship…any way they wanted. So it wasn’t connected to any religion.”

“Is it still there?”

I shook my head. “Just the foundation and a few of the walls.”

All of a sudden, my mind suddenly leapfrogged from Daddy to Ben to Dr. Britten. Bam Bam Bam! It hit me all at once. Ben was big and dark-haired and cuddly. Like Daddy. Like Dr. Britten. I flashed back to Uncle Marcus telling me long ago that Ben reminded him of my father. And now Dr. Britten reminded me of Ben. It was all one long chain.

“Oh…my…God,” I said, leaning my head back to look up at the ceiling.

“What?” Jen asked.

“I am so screwed up.”

 

We pulled up in front of my house an hour or so later. All the lights were on inside, and the house gave off the warmest, most welcoming glow.

“Come in and meet my mom and Andy and Kimmie.”

Jen stretched her arms out over her steering wheel. “Not tonight,” she said. “I’m sleepy.”

“Come on,” I said, disappointed. “Just for a few minutes.”

“Next time,” she said. “But thanks for the tour earlier. It’s a great house.”

“Okay.” It would take her nearly a half hour to drive back to Serenity Point, and she did look tired all of a sudden.

I got out of the car just as Andy walked from the house onto the front porch.

“Maggie!” he shouted. “Kimmie’s here!”

“Come here and meet Jen, Andy,” I said, but before I even finished my sentence, Jen stepped on the gas and pulled away, the passenger-side door not even fully closed.

I stared after her, glad I’d at least been clear of the car when she took off. I felt suddenly worried about her, hoping she was okay to drive the fifteen miles home in the dark.

I didn’t know it was really myself I needed to worry about.