A Million Miles From Boston (18 page)

“Why not?”

“Oh, it’s complicated.” I waited and she sighed. “Let’s see. She’s … distant. Hard to know.”

“Like how?”

“The week after they married, she sent me off to sleepaway camp for the summer. And I can’t remember her asking me one question or coming to many of my school events. She just wanted my dad, not us.”

“Oh.” Dad would never let the PT send us off somewhere.

“Why are you asking? Will you have a stepmom soon?”

“Maybe.”

“I’ve heard plenty of stories about wonderful stepmoms,” she said. “I think my situation was unusual. What’s this woman like?”

I scratched Superior behind her ears. “She’s tall.”

Mrs. Richards smiled. “It’s pretty normal not to like your dad’s girlfriend, especially if you know she’s about to become his wife.”

Really? Maybe hundreds, maybe even thousands, of people didn’t like their dads’ girlfriends. I wasn’t alone.

Ian walked out the door, a duffel bag over his shoulder.

“I’m taking Ian back home for the week, to lacrosse camp,” she said.

“Oh.” I felt a little sting in my chest. The week? “No kayaking.”

But he was silent.

Mrs. Richards opened her car door. “Nice to see you again.”

“Bye.” I waved as they drove away.

Halfway to our cottage I realized that I didn’t have my books, so Superior and I went back to the Dennises’. As I walked between the Debacle and Dennises’, I saw Allison and the older girls on the Debacle’s dock. The Pollards’ boat was tied to a post.

I picked up my books, then stood on the shore and watched. The girls were laughing as they talked over each other.

Tonya waved to me. “Hey, Lucy, come here!”

On the dock, Danielle and Tonya stuck out their arms.

“Who has the better tan?” Tonya asked. “Allison and Kiki split the vote.”

“We have way more important things to talk about than tans,” Kiki said.

“Shush!” Danielle said. “Okay, Lucy, say it.
I
have the better tan.”

I stared at Danielle’s arm, then Tonya’s. I couldn’t tell the difference. Plus if I said one was tanner, the other might get mad. “I think Superior has the best tan.”

Everyone laughed. Kiki put her arm around me and said, “That’s just perfect, Lucy.” Then they plopped down on beach towels spread on the dock.

I nudged Superior and she sat. I leaned against the railing, watching.

“It doesn’t matter.” Tonya sighed. “Because the Big House lights are so bad that on the night of the party, we’ll all look tan.”

“Now, now, no dissing the Big House,” Kiki said. “Did I tell you that Mrs. Ramsey invited a couple of Jake’s college friends?”

“About twenty times,” Allison said.

Jake’s surprise party. I glanced at Allison but her eyes were closed, her face tilted toward the sun.

They went over the plan: Allison was in charge of music, Kiki the decorations, and Tonya and Danielle were picking up the food. What about my part? When they started talking about the marina, I shot a look at Allison again.

She watched Kiki, not looking at me.

And then I realized that Allison hadn’t said a word to them about me.

Why? Had she planned all along not to?

I felt a little sick. “I gotta go.”

Later that night, as I lay in bed, I wanted to think about my conversation with Mrs. Richards. But all I kept seeing was Allison’s face, turned away from me.

And now I worried. Had she told anyone that I’d said Ian had broken the drill?

n Wednesday the kids and I built a huge mud castle at the beach.

“Where’s Ian?” Peter tossed his football, then caught it.

“He went back to Boston,” I said. He’d been gone nearly a week and the Point was quiet without him. I’d gone over to the Steeles’ dock, but didn’t have the nerve to take the kayak out on my own.

“If he was here, we’d play football,” Peter whined.

I rubbed my sandy hands together. “I’m done with this. I’ll play.”

We threw his ball back and forth a few times. When Becca tried to join, Peter wouldn’t throw to her, so she stomped off. I brought her back just as Peter threw the football into the castle, wrecking it. Everyone yelled at him and Olivia cried all the way back to the Big House.

We’d run out of water bottles again, so the kids drank from
the hose. Bucky made a puddle in the grass and dirt off to the side of the Big House, near the garden. Then Lauren dropped Poley into it and burst into tears.

I ran around the Big House and into the kitchen to search for paper towels. When I got back outside, I gasped. The kids were sliding in the puddle, clumps of grass pulled up, mud everywhere.

“Stop!” I grabbed the hose from Bucky. Mud and water dripped from them. Olivia’s pink tank top had turned brown. Mud was piled on Bucky’s head. The flowers in the garden were speckled.

“Your moms are gonna be mad!” I glanced at my watch: 11:45! I hosed them off, but Olivia’s shirt was still brown. Becca picked mud from her ears.

Mrs. Avery pulled up to the Big House. She wore makeup and a dress and she was frowning. “What’s this? Olivia, your new tank top.”

“I’m sorry.” I cringed. “I went inside for a minute and when I came back …”

“We’re headed to Portland.” She sighed. “We’ll go to the cottage to change.”

She handed me money and I thanked her, still cringing. Peter and Becca ran off when their mom drove up. Mrs. Dennis just smiled and didn’t seem to care. I was trying to push the grass clumps back into place when Mr. Ramsey walked by.

“What happened?”

“We drank from the hose because I ran out of water and I had to go inside and I shouldn’t have left, but Poley was wet and I couldn’t find the paper towels. I’m sorry.”

The puddle glistened in the sun. Mr. Ramsey pulled up a clump. “We may need to reseed. We want to save this part of the yard when the porch comes down. I think it’d be a good idea not to have the hose out again.”

I nodded. “Okay.”

“Everything else okay?”

“Yes, we weren’t even inside today.”

“I’m taking the boys tubing. Want to come?”

“Thanks, but I can’t,” I said. Mr. Ramsey nodded, then disappeared down the path with the boys. Superior and I headed back to the cottage and down to the dock.

Instead of water bottles, I’d buy paper cups, which were cheaper, and we’d use the faucet inside the Big House kitchen. We also needed more snacks. Maybe grass seed, too.

It all sounded expensive.

“Goose, want some lunch?” Dad started down the stairs. I was about to cry, so I kept my eyes on the dock. He stood over me. “What’s the matter?”

Then it all spilled out of me: the hose, the grass seed, the supplies.

“I’ll drive you to the supermarket,” Dad said. “And we’ll take a look at the lawn. If we need to reseed, we will. It shouldn’t be too hard. Okay?”

I nodded but I still saw Lauren’s face, streaked with tears,
and Peter’s frown because he wanted Ian. “I’m not doing a very good job.”

“What?” He sat.

I shook my head and started to cry. “The kids aren’t very happy!”

“Whoa. You think it’s your responsibility to make them
happy
?”

“It’s my camp, my job.”

“No, Goose. You can work at trying to make camp fun. But how people feel and what happens to them are
their
responsibilities.”

This didn’t make sense. Dad always liked the drawings I showed him. The eagles made him excited. His whole body smiled when he saw the PT. You
could
change people’s feelings. You
could
make them happy or sad.

Mr. Ramsey drove by in his speedboat and Bucky and Henry waved from the inner tube. We waved back. Dad scratched Superior behind her ears.

More than anything, I wanted the kids to be happy. I wanted them to have great memories of camp, that summer, the Point. So they’d never, ever forget.

“You okay?”

I nodded. Dad pulled me up and we walked to the cottage.

Later I bought cups and snacks to last one more week, grass seed and fertilizer. When I looked at my receipts, I was pretty sure that I wouldn’t have enough money for the kayak.

We decided to go to the Clam Shack for dinner. Halfway there Dad’s phone rang. “That’s terrific! Okay. I’ll call later.”

He put his phone away. “Julia’s coming on Friday. She got off work.”

“We could go camping!” Bucky said. “And look for the giant horseshoe crabs again. Remember, Lucy, last time we were there? I bet Julia’d like to see one.”

“She doesn’t care about crabs, Bucky.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I just do!” I yelled.

Dad turned to look at me. Bucky slunk back into his seat.

“Lucy, I love her and she loves me and I want her to be here with us,” Dad said. “You certainly don’t. I don’t know what to do anymore!”

I didn’t know, either.

“Mom would’ve wanted this for us, I know it.” Dad’s voice was softer.

It was normal not to like your dad’s girlfriend. But that day this didn’t make me feel better. “At least can Jenny stay with us at home?”

“Jenny’s leaving?” Bucky bolted upright.

“No one’s talking about Jenny leaving,” Dad said.

At the Clam Shack Bucky ate a hot dog. Dad and I picked at the fried clams, not eating much. Dad sat hunched over his plate, quiet. I wanted to say something to make him happy, but what?

It was dark by the time we reached the dirt road to the Point.

I felt the ocean on my skin, in my lungs, even if I couldn’t see it.

I glanced at Dad, his face lit up by the dashboard. He’d told me that what people feel is their own responsibility. But wasn’t I responsible for his being unhappy right now?

Dad turned to me but I spoke first. “Tell a story about Mom.”

He shook his head. “I think we should talk about—”

“Tell the story about the lobster dinner,” I said.

“Yay!” Bucky pounded the back of Dad’s headrest. “The lobsters! Yay!”

“It was the first time you brought Mom to the Point,” I said. “And she ran to the end of the yard and cried because it was so beautiful.”

Dad hesitated. “Your mom was a great cook. She could make something good out of anything. She was also thoughtful. As a way of thanking us for having her, she decided to cook dinner. But Granddad insisted that we have lobster.”

“Because midwestern girls don’t have lobsters in Lake Superior,” Bucky said.

“That’s right.” Dad’s words sped up. “Granddad put the water on to boil and Mom pushed us all out of the kitchen while she made everything else. After about an hour, she said dinner was ready and we went into the kitchen to help with the lobsters. But she’d turned off the water under the pot, and the lobsters were gone from the refrigerator.”

“Because Mom had taken them down to the dock and let them go!” Bucky yelled.

“You should’ve seen Granddad’s face. He was so angry! But
Mom couldn’t stand the idea of killing those lobsters. And all was forgiven, especially when Grandma and Granddad tasted her pasta. She made it from scratch. Just an egg and flour.”

We passed the Pollards’, then the Dennises’. I leaned out the window, smelling the pine and sea air. I smiled, thinking about Mom on the dock—dressed in her sundress, her hair blowing—setting the lobsters free.

Dad slowed, then stopped in front of the Debacle. Every light seemed to be on, but the shades were drawn.

“Go,” I said. I’d been avoiding Allison. Had she told her dad about Ian and the drill? I glanced at Dad.

“Why’d you stop?” Bucky leaned forward.

No one moved. Then Dad sat back. “I saw your mom in my mind and it made me feel so … Oh, I
miss
her.”

What would we do if he started sobbing and couldn’t stop?

“It’s okay, Dad.” I patted his shoulder. He nodded and drove again.