A Lie for a Lie (16 page)

I wasn’t sure how grateful she would be tomorrow when I told her I was going to resign.

It was almost nine when I dropped Grady off in the circle outside the country club. He hadn’t spoken to me since my tirade, and I hadn’t trusted myself to speak to him. There was no apology and no acknowledgment of my help. He opened his door and got out. He didn’t even close it. He just walked into the country club without a backwards glance. Luckily somebody else saw the door and gave it a shove so I didn’t have to get out and do it myself.

I had managed to call Ed once, to tell him to eat without me. That had been an hour ago, and when I finally parked outside the parsonage and went inside, I had no appetite, and, I was afraid, no pulse.

Ed was putting on his shoes when I walked into the living room. I wondered if he was leaving me.

“Deena . . .”

My hand flew to my chest. “Is she okay?”

“Not so much. Tammy Sargent just called. We have to pick her up.”

This didn’t make sense. “What does Tammy have to do with it? Deena’s at Shannon’s house for the night.”

He beckoned for me to follow; then he waited until we were both in the van and he was backing out before he explained. He drove as quickly as I’d driven to get Grady. Luckily the Sargents’ house was a lot closer.

“The message was garbled. Tammy was in a hurry. We’ll find out how this happened when we get there. But apparently the girls showed up and Tammy had put out quite a spread. She didn’t know Grady was busy getting arrested . . .” He glanced at me. “Was he?”

“Missed it by the skin of his teeth. Go on!”

“Tammy wanted everything to be perfect, so she borrowed serving pieces from church, including the punch bowl. I think she probably got Norma to go along with that.”

Norma’s the church secretary and sometimes too willing to please. But now I knew things must be dire. Ed wouldn’t have mentioned my nemesis the Women’s Society punch bowl otherwise. Punch bowl and I have a history, none of it good.

“Somebody broke it? Again?” But that hardly seemed the important question. Why were we picking up our daughter? I knew Tammy, and she wouldn’t have reported Deena to us. Since Deena had declined the invitation herself, I doubted Tammy even knew that Deena had been forbidden to attend.

“No, somebody spiked the punch,” he said.

We were on Tammy’s street now, and Ed stopped talking as he looked for a place to park. For a quiet, residential street, this one was surprisingly crowded. Cars were parked everywhere, a few side by side, and Ed had to concentrate hard to miss them. Luckily for us, somebody pulled out just as we drove up behind them, and Ed was able to edge the van in and turn off the ignition almost in front of Tammy’s house, an aluminum-sided shoe box with one medium-sized tree in the yard and withering shrubs.

We didn’t have a chance to finish the conversation. I saw kids being hauled outside by parents, then I realized, for the first time, that one of the city’s rescue squad vehicles was parked in Tammy’s driveway.

I got out and started at a trot up the sidewalk. Ed joined me.

“Tammy says Deena’s okay,” he said. “We just have to get her home.”

I sprinted now and reached the open front door, not pausing to knock. Inside we were greeted by chaos. I saw two men from the rescue squad bent over one teenager who was sprawled on Tammy’s couch. They appeared to be taking vital signs. I saw kids hanging out of chairs giggling. One lying on the floor. I caught a glimpse of Tammy kneeling between two others who were sitting with their heads between their knees.

Before I could find out anything else, I saw my daughter and her friend Shannon in the dining area between the living room and the kitchen. The church punch bowl was still on the table. I could have sworn it winked at me, as if it had finally paid me back for whatever sins punch bowls believe are committed against them.

Both girls were resting their heads on crossed arms amid a jumble of plates and platters. The house smelled unpleasantly of vomit, and I could see that not all of it had been cleaned up.

Ed caught up to me. “Apparently the medics told Tammy that somebody probably got hold of pure grain alcohol and added as much as a whole bottle. It’s tasteless, odorless, and packs a triple whammy. None of the kids would have known it was there, and if they drank a lot . . . I guess it was supposed to be a joke.”

I wondered if the kid in question hadn’t made it past the first round of tryouts and wanted to punish those who had. I was beyond appalled and hoped that whoever had done this got a good scare from the local authorities.

I put my hand on Deena’s shoulder. She didn’t seem to know I was there. “Deena. We’re taking you home.” I looked up at Ed. “Do you know if the medics checked her out?”

“Tammy said she and Shannon got here late and didn’t have much to drink.”

“Deena.” I shook her. Deena finally lifted her head and narrowed her eyes, as if she were seeing several sets of parents in front of her. “You’re . . . not supposed . . . to know I’m here.”

“But we do.”

The Foresters arrived just then. Tammy may not have been watching the punch bowl well enough, but she had managed to call parents when the party deteriorated into moaning and vomiting. I had to give her credit for that.

Grace Forester is absolutely sure that all teenagers are on a one-way street to perdition, and she guards Shannon like a junkyard dog. I found it astonishing that the girls had made it to the party on Grace’s watch.

“My son was in charge while we were out,” she said shortly. “See if that ever happens again.”

Shannon’s brother was a student at Ohio State and home for the summer. Shannon worships him, and that kind of adulation can make even sensible young men think of themselves as heroes.

“The girls should know better,” I said. “Deena’s responsible for her own behavior.”

“I’m really sorry, Aggie.” Grace thumped her daughter on the back. “He says Shannon and Deena decided they’d go to Madison’s party, and he thought it was no big deal, that nobody—like us—would be the wiser. They’d just stop by for a little while, see what was going on, then head back to our house.”

Explanation finished, she thumped her daughter again. “You are going home, young lady. And you’re going to stay there a long, long time.”

Shannon sat up. Her eyes were as unfocused as my daughter’s. “Is . . . s . . . s your fault . . .” She couldn’t seem to remember why. Her head dropped back on the table.

Ed got Deena under one arm, and I took the other. Between us we lifted her to her feet. Surprisingly her legs remembered how to move. We walked her slowly toward the door. That’s when I saw a punch-drunk Madison sprawling on a piano bench, her back and arms resting on the keys. Tammy was standing over her, and even though I was busy with my own daughter, I could see she was trying to quiet hers.

“I tell you . . . he’s not acting . . . like a father. Maybe I don’ . . . have a father . . . but father’s don’—”

Tammy rested a finger on her daughter’s lips. “Be quiet, Madison. You don’t know what you’re saying. Just be quiet.”

I hadn’t heard enough to know what they were talking about, much less whether Madison was sober enough to make any sense. More important, my own hands were full with Deena. But as we walked our disoriented daughter out to the van, Madison’s words haunted me.

I didn’t resign from the committee. Not just because Grady sent a huge bouquet of flowers with a florist’s card apology. Not just because Veronica called after I got home from the Sargents’ house with my chastened and sick-to-her-toenails daughter and begged me to stay. Not just because Thursday morning Camille came to my front door with a basket of baked goods from the committee and a promise she would quit, if I did, because I was the only reason the whole Idyll farce was bearable. Not even because I was convinced I had to keep an eye on Grady and Madison, because now I knew that Madison’s mother wasn’t going to.

The biggest reason I didn’t resign was because I really did not want to stay home. Deena was grounded, possibly for all of eternity. She now had in her possession a long list of chores she had to perform before we discussed the resumption of a normal life. Additionally all her privileges had been revoked, including attending the final round of the Idyll and sitting with the other contestants in a special block of balcony seats.

I wasn’t all that keen on staying close by and watching this family drama unfold. I had no doubt whatsoever that Deena would comply with our edicts, and we wouldn’t see another fit of rebellion like this one for quite some time. But between Ed’s confusion about where we had gone wrong, Teddy’s frantic attempts to make everybody behave reasonably, and Deena’s contemplative silence, home was no haven. Ed could supervise the fallout as he researched sermons and made phone calls. I preferred mopping up after Grady.

Although he didn’t apologize again once we were face-to-face Thursday afternoon, Grady
was
on his best behavior with me. I went over papers, made a half dozen phone calls, and ran interference with the hotel’s morticianlike manager when Grady complained that somebody had searched his room while he’d been at breakfast. By this point, even if Grady had found somebody lurking in the closet and strung him from the shower rod with bedsheets, the hotel wouldn’t have believed him. Grady’s multiple complaints and infractions had destroyed his credibility. My job was just to keep the manager from hurling him out the window.

Friday dawned with the promise that the Idyll would soon be over. If we’d had any rain in the past months, I would have expected a rainbow as confirmation.

Tonight was the beginning of the final round. There were only three contestants left, Madison, Bart, and Julia, the folk singer. By Saturday night there would be two, and on Sunday the winner would be declared. A huge gala was planned after the Sunday night show—with a steep price for invitations, of course—and Veronica had wisely chosen the hotel as the venue. She wanted to make up for Grady’s stay there.

I spent most of the day finalizing party plans with Veronica and Camille, dealing with Grady’s insurance agent about Diana’s car, and performing, almost by rote, the dozen or so other chores that cropped up. By now I could vet menus with one hand and organize Grady’s to-do list with the other.

By the time I got home, I was beat. But I knew better than to pay attention to that. I had to eat, shower, and change in time to be at the auditorium for the sound check.

Teddy greeted me at the door. “Deena says I can’t go tonight if
she
can’t. Why is that fair?”

For most kids the first sentence would have been the most important. For Teddy, who thrived on moral dilemmas, the second was the interesting one.

“It wouldn’t be fair,” I agreed. “If you’d like to come tonight, you can. I’ll find somebody you can sit with if I’m busy.”

She looked disappointed. My solution was too easy.

“I’ll stay home.” She put her arms around my waist and rested her head against my breasts. Since Teddy’s not normally a cuddler, I took her up on this display of affection and wrapped my arms around her, too.

“Deena didn’t know there was anything bad in the punch,” she said after a while.

At least Deena was still talking to her sister. “Deena was told not to go to the party. She shouldn’t have been there drinking punch or doing anything.”

“People don’t always get caught, do they? When they make mistakes? Timmy Snyder always pulled my ponytail . . . when I had a ponytail . . . and nobody ever stopped him.”

“I’m afraid that’s the way things are. Life’s not always fair.”

“Do we know how many people get caught and how many don’t?”

I ruffled her hair. “Why, are you calculating your odds? It’s just better to do the right thing and not worry whether the wrong thing will get you in trouble.”

“If I help Deena with her chores, will that be wrong?”

“This time it would be. But you can keep her company.”

“I don’t think she’d like that.”

“Could be she just needs time alone to think.”

“Daddy’s sad.” Teddy looked up at me. “Can’t you
do
something?”

I was touched that she still thought I had magical powers, but I had to kiss her forehead and tell her no, I couldn’t.

I thought about that conversation once I was on my way to the auditorium, dressed in a skirt and blouse of the lightest fabric in my wardrobe. Our family has really entered a new phase. By the time Deena is no longer pushing hard against us, Teddy will be. And knowing Teddy, the form will be more existential. If Sister Nora is still around, Teddy will probably run away and dig her way into the biosphere.

Things were already buzzing by the time I dragged my perspiring body into the auditorium. The stage crew was running from one side of the room to the other, talking in headsets and switching lights on and off. Sound checks were in progress and microphones were screeching. Melanie and Sandy, Grady’s sidekicks, were down in front talking to a group of admiring senior citizens. I waved to Veronica, who was heading for the balcony with Diana. Probably to rope off seats for the first rounds of contestants.

Camille intercepted me as I was heading for the stage and beyond.

“Some guy was looking for Grady. I sent him backstage, but he didn’t look familiar. He must have showed somebody identification to get in here, right?”

Theoretically that was true, but in reality, security was a little loose. Early in the evening the guys at the door had a habit of just waving in people who looked familiar. Once the ushers arrived, the rules were less likely to be bent, but right now it wouldn’t be that hard to get inside the auditorium with a group of people who looked like they belonged.

“I’ll go back and check,” I said. “I have to find him anyway and see if he needs anything before the curtain goes up.”