I keep going, one second at a time. When I find it, I’m mystified. It’s Mom leaning into Dad. It’s Dad’s tenderness as he touches her face. That’s when a rupture forms in my heart, when I feel something hard sprouting there.
38
Evangeline found no new spotting in the morning, and the doctor scheduled her for that afternoon. At two, Lorrie was parked in the school’s loading zone as promised. And later, when Evangeline returned to reception after the exam, she once again discovered an adult waiting for her. A part of her bristled, the part that hated people knowing her business, that assumed adults did things for their own selfish motives. But a bigger part thought it was nice, because Evangeline felt, with the ease of simple knowing, that the woman actually cared about her.
“The baby’s okay,” Evangeline said. “Everything was good.”
Lorrie let out a breath. “That’s a relief.”
“Since I haven’t had any new bleeding, I’ll just need to take it easy for a few days and make sure to let them know if it starts again.”
“That’s good. Very good.” Lorrie checked the time. “I’m running a bit behind. Do you mind if we stop by the middle school on the way home? Fair warning, though—my daughter hates it when I’m late. She might be a little pissy.”
Evangeline laughed. “How old is she?”
“Thirteen—an eighth grader.”
“If she’s thirteen and only a little pissy, I’d say you’re lucky. I was terrible at that age. My poor mother!” It felt strange to say that, “my poor mother,” even weirder to actually feel the tiniest bit sorry for her.
Lorrie seemed uncomfortable at this mention. She made a show of rummaging through her purse, pulled out her keys and said, “Come on. Let’s go face the little brute.”
* * *
—
EVANGELINE HAD NEVER NOTICED the middle school before. It was a low, sprawling, modern building surrounded by playing fields, with a big track behind. Unlike the high school, it looked built in the last century.
The pickup area was empty except for a lone girl standing at the curb. Even at a distance, you could see how angry she was, the set of her hips, the way her arms crossed tight. As the battered Toyota Corolla pulled near, her arms fell to her sides. She looked nothing like Lorrie, taller than average and on the soft side, just bordering on plump. Her thick, dark hair was twisted in a high, messy knot. When the girl noticed Evangeline, she scowled.
Evangeline unbuckled the seat belt, but Lorrie said, “Stay put. She can sit in back. It’s less than a mile. She could have walked if she was so eager to get home.”
The girl swung open the back door. Before she could speak, Lorrie said, “Nells, this is Evangeline.”
Evangeline’s heart went cold at the name. She wasn’t sure why. Had Lorrie mentioned her daughter’s name before? She didn’t think so. But then she’d never asked the slightest thing about her.
“Hey,” Nells said, nice enough.
Then she remembered. Jonah’s sister was named Nells. And she was thirteen. Christ! Lorrie was Jonah’s mother? How could that be? She knew they’d been neighbors, but when she’d seen Jonah that last time, it’d been blocks away. No one had ever said he and Daniel were next-door neighbors. She pulled off her seat belt.
“You can sit up here,” she said. “I’ll walk. It’ll be good for me.”
“You most certainly won’t,” Lorrie snapped. “The doctor said to take it easy. Hiking uphill all the way home isn’t what she had in mind.”
“I’ll walk slow.”
“Absolutely not.”
Evangeline hesitated and rebuckled. There was no good response. “Sorry to be in your seat,” she said over her shoulder.
“No big.”
They drove in awkward silence for a block or two, and then Lorrie said, “Nells’s class is studying salmon restoration in some of the waterways around here.”
“That sounds so interesting,” Evangeline said, the ridiculous fake brightness of her tone ricocheting around the car like an infuriating bug.
“Not really,” Nells said.
They didn’t even try after that, the three of them trapped together. Evangeline guessed that only she understood why they’d fallen into this place. Either Lorrie had no idea about her and Jonah or she did and assumed Evangeline had known all along who she was, because what right-thinking person in Isaac’s position wouldn’t have warned Evangeline that the possible grandmother of her child would be stopping by? What right-thinking person would say only that the woman was “a neighbor”？ Of course, Evangeline had never admitted any romantic connection to Jonah, had she? Only that there had been lots of boys and Daniel wasn’t one. Still.
When Lorrie stopped at her drive, Evangeline jumped out. As she was closing the door, Lorrie said, “See you tonight.”
She leaned back in. “I forgot to tell you. I’m going over to a friend’s house to study.”
“I can leave it by the door.”
“No, that’s okay. My friend said her mom would make us dinner.”
Evangeline thought she got out of that fairly well. She even remembered to say, “Nice to meet you, Nells,” before closing the door.
* * *
—
THAT EVENING, EVANGELINE STAYED in her bedroom until eight, using a low lamp to read, walking in the shadows when she went to the bathroom. She hadn’t really lied about studying with a friend. She had done that before and would again, just not that particular night. Her precautions were silly anyway. Lorrie couldn’t know Evangeline was home unless she came onto the property and prowled about. But hadn’t Evangeline done exactly that? Hadn’t she hidden in the dark and watched Isaac without him knowing? And that, she decided, was the problem with doing such things. It made it part of your world, made you feel it waiting for you.
The next night, Evangeline turned off the lights at a quarter to six and hid in her room. At six, Lorrie knocked. With no answer, she went to the front and rang, then moved on to the side door, knocked some more, calling Evangeline’s name.
Rufus went thoroughly bonkers, racing to the door, barking and leaping at it, running to Evangeline’s room to yelp in alarm, then tearing to whatever door Lorrie was currently behind, his paws so frantic he’d lose traction and bounce off walls, only to circle back to Evangeline with news of the would-be intruder’s devious shifts in strategy.
Finally Lorrie gave up—or perhaps grew worried about the damage Rufus was inflicting on the doors—and left the greens under the overhang by the mudroom. After her departure, Rufus produced a few good-riddance barks, then, pleased with himself, pranced smugly into Evangeline’s room and jumped onto her bed, panting like mad and slurping his snot as if it were something delicious.
A few minutes later, the phone rang. When Evangeline didn’t answer, Lorrie left a message suggesting she check for the salad before it started to rain. For all the uproar, Evangeline thought it had gone well. She half believed they’d reached an unspoken agreement. The salad would be left by the back door while Evangeline hid in the dark and Lorrie pretended Evangeline had so many friends she was off with a different one every night.