Secrets She Left Behind. Diane Chamberlain

she said. “I don’t want you to hear about it through the grapevine.”

      Oh, no. Jordy Matthews was the third death in the fire. A really cute blue-eyed blonde with the future ahead of her. I had those posters memorized. I still saw them when I closed my eyes at night. “What about her mother?” I asked.

      Mom looked toward the moonlit sound. “She couldn’t get over her grief,” she said. “Not that I blame her for an instant. She tried to kill herself after Jordy died and they put her in a psych hospital for a few months. I guess she seemed better when she got out, but a few weeks ago, she was killed when she flipped her car off the high-rise bridge.”

      I sucked in my breath. “She was—” I pictured the bridge, how incredibly hard it would be to drive a car off it. That couldn’t happen by accident. “Suicide?” I asked.

      Mom nodded. “It was all too much for her. She was a single mom. She had another daughter in college, but I don’t think she had a good relationship with her, so I guess she felt like she didn’t have anyone or anything else to live for.”

      I rested my chin on the teddy bear. “It just goes on and on, doesn’t it?” I said. “What I did.”

      Mom put her arm around me. “I know you feel terrible,” she said. “And I didn’t tell you about Ellen—Jordy’s mother—to make you feel worse. But I wanted you to hear it from me.”

      I leaned close to her until my head rested on her shoulder. “I’m glad you told me,” I said.

      She touched the teddy bear. “Isn’t that the softest thing?”

      “You must think I’m nuts, carrying it around.”

      “Not nuts at all. I thought it was sweet Marcus got it for you.” “It was.

      “Is it uncomfortable for you?” she asked. “Having him stay over?”

      I sat up straight again.”It’s awesome,” I said. “It’s like this family’s the way it should be, finally.” I ran my fingers through the angora on the back of the teddy bear. “Are you going to get married?”

      “Probably. Would you like that?”

      “Yes,” I said. “Definitely.”

      She squeezed my shoulder. “Oh, sweetheart, do you have any idea how happy I am to have you home again?” I heard tears in her voice.

      “Not as happy as I am to be home.”

      “I worry about how this year’s changed you. Hardened you.”

      The last thing I felt was hard. “I think it softened me,” I said. “I’m nervous about what happens now, though.” I couldn’t remember the last time I’d confided in my mother. It felt both strange and good.

      “We’ll take it one step at a time,” she said. “And I’ll be by your side every minute.” She ran her hand over my cheek. “I forgot to tell you that I made an appointment for you for Thursday with the court-ordered therapist.”

      “Already?” I didn’t feel like talking to anyone. Not yet.

      “They said you needed your first appointment within a week of your release. And I have an idea for your community service. Do you want to hear it now or maybe tomorrow or later this—”

      “Now.” I hadn’t thought about where I would do my community service. Topsail Island wasn’t exactly crawling with opportunities. Plus, the idea of maybe running into all those hurt and pissed-off people was enough to make me nauseous.

      “My school,” Mom said. “Douglas Elementary. I spoke to Ms. Terrell—you know, the principal?—and she said you could help out in one of the classrooms. She’s already talked to the first-grade teacher, Mrs. Hadley, who you’ll love, and she said she’d like to have you.”

      “Really? I’m an ex-con, Mom.”

      “Don’t use that term. You don’t really think of yourself that way, do you?”

      Yeah, actually, I did, even though the word made me think of disgusting old men. “That’s what I am,” I said.

      “Well, Ms. Terrell didn’t seem to think it would be a problem. She and I have talked a lot this past year and I think she understands who you really are and what led you to do what you did. Would you like that? Working at the school?”

      “Yes,” I said. “As long as the teacher, you know, thinks it’s okay.”

      I loved that my mother had figured it out for me. Made all the arrangements. She’d left me to take care of myself for most of my life, and this felt good. Plus, she’d made a good choice for me. I wanted to make up to everyone for the fire, but how could I do that when I was afraid to walk out my front door? Little first graders had to be the safest possible choice. They wouldn’t know who I was or what I’d done.

      The next best thing to a stuffed teddy bear.

      Chapter Six

      Keith

      MY MOTHER COULD ANNOY THE CRAP OUT OF ME SOMETIMES. She hovered over me, like I was going to die if she didn’t keep her eye on me every second. I almost did kick the bucket after the fire, so I guess that gave her the right to freak out, but it could really get to me. So when I came home from the beach and she wasn’t there, I was glad. And after a couple hours, when I could heat up my own mac and cheese for dinner and eat it in front of a Simpsons rerun without her giving me grief about it, I was still liking it.

      The Simpsons was still on when I heard someone on our deck and then a knock on the door. I opened it and saw a couple of guys out there. One was on the other side of our screen door, the other back a ways, holding a camera. The sun was starting to go down behind his head.

      “Keith?” the guy closest to me said. “Today Maggie Lockwood was released from prison. As one of the fire victims, can you tell us how you feel about that?”

      It took me a couple of seconds to realize what was going on. Reporters!

      “No fuckin’ way!” I slammed the door shut in his face, then walked around the trailer yanking down the shades. Like I needed this! Where was my mother? She would’ve answered the door and told those bastards to take a hike off the end of a pier.

      When The Simpsons was over, the news came on. I never watched the news, but I wanted to make sure they didn’t say anything about me. They didn’t. Not by name, anyway. But the first thing they showed was this mob outside the prison and Maggie coming out the door, looking pale and scared. The crowd was vicious, shouting and holding these protest signs and everything. I loved it.

      “You deserve it, bitch!” I shouted at the TV.

      I watched the news awhile longer, then looked at the clock on the stove, which I could see from the couch. Almost seven-thirty. Where was my mother? She probably told me she was going out with Dawn or something and I forgot. I didn’t listen all that much when she talked. But by eight o’clock, which was when she always helped me with my physical-therapy exercises, and she still wasn’t home, I got…worried is the wrong word. Mad. I was mad she hadn’t left a note or anything. She knew I forgot things she told me, and if she was going to miss eight o’clock, then she should have left a note or a message on my cell or something.

      I sat in the living room and dialed her cell number. It rang and rang and finally cut to her voice mail.

      “It’s eight o’clock,” I said. “Where are you?”

      So I called Laurel to see if my mother had said anything to Andy. A sign of total desperation—me calling Laurel. After I talked to her, I called Dawn. Frankie answered the phone and tried to make chitchat with me.

      “Just put Dawn on,” I said. I didn’t know what Dawn saw in that dude.

      She sounded worried when I said Mom wasn’t home.