The Girl Death Left Behind (2 page)

“I asked if we could talk about it some other time.” Beth flopped backward on the bed and stared up at the ceiling. “Geez—can you imagine being stuck with Terri half the summer? It would be a nightmare!”

“Maybe she’s changed.” Terri’s family had come to Beth’s over the Christmas holidays when both of them had been twelve. But Terri had acted totally snotty toward Beth’s friends, so no one had liked her.

“I doubt it. She’s so spoiled rotten that
nobody likes being around her. She doesn’t have any friends in Tampa.” Beth’s family had visited with her aunt’s this past Christmas, and as far as her hanging out with her cousin was concerned, it had been a disaster. “I’m telling you, Marcie,
Allison
acts more mature than Terri. Terri threw a tantrum at the mall because her mother wouldn’t let her buy this way expensive sweater. I was totally embarrassed.”

“Didn’t her mother do anything?”

“Tried to reason with her. Kept saying, ‘But, Terri, honey, you got three new sweaters at Christmas. You don’t need another.’ ” Beth sat up. “Terri whined and carried on until her mother caved.”

Marcie shook her head. “My mom would have grounded me for a week if I acted that way in public.”

“Mine too. Even Doug knows how to behave in the mall.”

“But now you’re going to be stuck with her.”

“It sure looks like it.” Beth sighed. “I like Aunt Camille and Uncle Jack, but Terri is something else.”

“Maybe she’s so spoiled because she
doesn’t have any brothers or sisters. If you don’t ever have to share, then you don’t learn the concept.”

“What am I going to do? Mom and Aunt Camille are sisters
and
best friends. They even had a double wedding!”

“That’s sort of romantic sounding. We aren’t sisters, but we could do that too.”

“Mom will probably insist I wait until Terri gets married first,” Beth said glumly. “As if any guy’s ever going to ask her.”

Beth had heard the story a hundred times about how her mother and Camille had been pregnant together while their husbands were in the army. Of how she’d been born and then “just three weeks later” Terri had been born. “Camille had a beautiful little girl because I had a beautiful little girl,” Beth’s mother always joked.

Beth had heard how she and Terri had shared a crib, had been pushed in identical strollers, and had taken baths together every night until they both turned two and the army tour of duty ended. Then Terri’s dad landed a job in Tampa, and Beth’s father got a job in Chattanooga. Every Christmas, one family or the other made the ten-hour drive
to visit. But now her mother wanted Terri to spend almost a month with them. How was she going to survive?

The sound of a lawn mower starting up made Beth scoot off the bed and go to her window. She looked down to see Teddy pushing a mower. “Come here, Marcie,” Beth said, raising her window.

Together they leaned out and watched Teddy follow the mower across the slope of his backyard. He wore denim shorts, no shirt, and a baseball cap. “Should I whistle?” Marcie asked.

“He’s showing off his bod just for you. Are you impressed?” Beth elbowed her friend.

“Not much of a bod. Unless you like scarecrows.”

The two girls began to giggle, then were convulsed with laughter. Beth couldn’t help thinking that if her cousin had been as much fun to be with as Marcie, having her visit wouldn’t have been a problem. But she wasn’t. No, indeed, she wasn’t.

“Have you given any thought to what I asked you about Terri’s visiting?”

Beth and her mother were at the grocery store, in the produce aisle, when her mother asked the question Beth had been dreading.

“You know, Mom, Terri and I don’t have a lot in common.”

“I realize that the two of you aren’t close like Camille and I are, but you’re the closest thing to a sister Terri will ever have, you know.”

Beth had heard many times that Camille and Jack had been unable to have another baby. “Terri should have a friend in Tampa to be her almost-sister. Like Marcie is to me.”

“But you and Terri are blood relatives. That should count for something. And you know what they say,” her mom added with a teasing smile. “ ‘You can pick your friends, but you can’t pick your relatives.’ ”

“That’s what you always say about me and Allison.” Beth pursed her lips. How could she make her mother understand that she and Terri had nothing in common beyond their bloodlines?

“Listen, honey.” Her mother put a hand on Beth’s shoulder. “I’m not going to force you to spend a few weeks with Terri this
summer. But I’d really appreciate it if you did let her come. I think Jack and Camille need some alone time.”

Who wouldn’t? Beth thought. Having Terri around constantly would make anybody crazy. “Oh, all right,” she told her mother grudgingly. “Invite her.”

Her mother squeezed her shoulder. “Thank you, Beth. I appreciate your doing this. I’ll call Camille and tell her, but it would be really nice if you’d write Terri a note and invite her. It would make her feel that this was less of a put-up job, if you know what I mean.”

Beth nodded. “When should I invite her?”

“How about mid-July through the first week in August? That way you’ll still have plenty of time before school starts again. Will Marcie be around?”

“She’s going off on vacation the whole month of July,” Beth said with dismay. Which meant she would have to entertain Terri on her own.

“You know your dad and I’ll plan some activities. How about a day up at Fall Creek Falls?”

“How about Dollywood?” Beth’s family hadn’t been to that theme park in ages.

“A good possibility.”

“And Six Flags in Atlanta?”

“Don’t get greedy,” her mother said with a laugh.

Beth shrugged. “It was worth a try.”

Her mother forged ahead with the shopping cart. Beth felt mollified. If she had to have her cousin hanging around for part of her summer, then at least she’d keep Terri busy. Alone time had to be avoided. That way they wouldn’t be able to get on one another’s nerves.
The things I don’t do for family
, Beth told herself, and trotted off to join her mother in the cereal aisle.

When David got home from college, the Carpenters invited Beth and her family over for a barbecue. David brought along a pretty blond girlfriend named Shelby from Atlanta, and on the evening of the cookout, they sat in a backyard swing, holding hands and talking in low whispers.

“What’s it like having your brother home again?” Beth asked Teddy.

“You mean King David?” Teddy looked
disgusted. “He hardly has time for me. We used to shoot baskets together, but now there’s Shelby. I guess that’s the problem with being the youngest—everyone forgets about you when the oldest comes home. You’re lucky, Beth.”

“How so?”

“You’ll get to leave the others behind because you’ll get to move out first.”

“How lucky can I be if I have to have Terri stay with me for three weeks?”

“I’ll hang with you.”

“That would be good.” The wind had picked up, and dark clouds had gathered above the trees.

“Your father’s company still having the picnic on the fourth?” Teddy asked.

“Just like every year. Want to come?”

“My dad’s taking me and some of the guys from the basketball team down to Six Flags for the weekend.”

“Sounds like fun.” Beth felt a twinge of envy. With Marcie gone and Teddy away, she’d be bored stiff at her father’s company’s annual picnic. So far her summer wasn’t shaping up to be a winner. She actually found herself wishing for school to start.

Suddenly a bolt of lightning split the sky and a clap of thunder shook the very air. Allison shrieked, and their mother yelled, “You kids come inside this minute.” The whole bunch of them scrambled as the wind swayed the tree branches overhead. Beth grabbed bowls of food and made it inside just as a torrent of rain swept across the wooden deck. Everyone grumbled or made jokes about barbecues attracting rain the way picnics did ants.

Beth stared out at the pelting, drenching rain and sighed. She hoped it wasn’t a bad omen. What a way to start the summer.

3
 

“Y
ou know, Beth, I could let your father take Doug and Allison, and I could stay home with you.”

Beth rested her elbows on the kitchen table, watching her mother fill the picnic cooler with bags of fresh fruit and plastic bowls filled with salads. “Mom, I’m fine. I just feel weak, that’s all.”

“You’ve had a nasty flu bug and I’m not sure I should go off and leave you alone all day.”

“But the picnic—”

“Will happen again next year, just like it always does,” her mother finished.

“I’ve got plenty to amuse me. I’ve got books to read, the CD player. You don’t have to stay with me, Mom. I can handle a day at home by myself.” Beth’s bout with flu had started two days before. She did feel better, but not up to being out at the lake all day. It would be the first time she’d missed the annual picnic.

Her mother opened the refrigerator door. “There’s plenty for you to eat.”

“Please don’t say the word
eat
.”

As her father entered the kitchen, Beth and her mother exchanged glances. “Carol, where’s my Vols baseball hat?” he asked.

Her mother straightened. “You’re not wearing that shirt, are you?”

“What’s wrong with it? It’s clean.”

The faded old shirt was her father’s favorite. A variety of years-old stains dotted the front. Once-orange letters reading
TENNESSEE VOLUNTEERS
, the name of the team at her father’s alma mater, had faded to a pale peach color.

“It looks awful,” his wife said. “What will people think?”

Beth’s parents had the same discussion every year. “Why don’t you wear the one we
bought you for Father’s Day?” Beth suggested.

“Yes,” her mother said. “It looks so much better. And the kids picked it out themselves.”

“But this is my favorite.” He grinned. “And it’s lucky, too. Whenever I wear it, my team wins.”

“Well, maybe it’s time to start a new tradition.”

“Please, Dad.”

“Oh, all right. But if we lose, I’ll know why!” He headed out of the kitchen.

Allison chased Doug into the room, yelling, “Give it back, Doug!”

“Make me!” Doug darted under the table, holding his sister’s soccer ball.

“Mother!”

“Stop it, you two. I’m not up to a whole day of your bickering.”

“He’s such a little brat!” Allison scooted under the table and began to scuffle with her brother.

Beth moved her legs, but not before they got hit by Allison’s flying fist. “Ouch!”

“That’s it.” Her mother stamped her foot.
“Both of you, out. Go to your rooms until we’re ready to leave.”

“Aw, Mom,” Doug said. “We were just playing.”

Allison clutched her recovered soccer ball to her chest. “Can I stay home with Beth?”

Beth shook her head. The last thing she wanted was to baby-sit her kid sister. “I’m sick, remember? I can’t be watching Allison and resting too.”

“You’re coming with us, Allie,” their mother said.

Beth peered out the large bay window overlooking their backyard. Golden morning sunlight beat down on blooming hydrangea bushes, rows of geraniums, morning glories, and tangles of lacy ferns. The yard was their mother’s pride and joy. “At least the rain stopped.”

“The weatherman says we should have a pretty nice day, but those sudden thunder-showers never fail to hit our picnic.” Carol Haxton turned to Beth. “You know we’ll be late getting in.”

“I know.” The fireworks didn’t go off until after nine.

“Are we ready?” Beth’s father called from the foyer.

“Come get the cooler.”

Beth, still in her sleep shirt, shuffled out to the driveway, where the minivan was loaded and ready to go. Her mother glanced up. Overhead, banks of dark clouds had replaced bright blue sky.

“Honey, did you pack the rain gear?” She asked. “I don’t trust the weatherman.”

Her father placed one hand on Doug’s shoulder to stop the boy in midrun and the other on his wife’s arm. “It’ll blow over. What’s a picnic without rain?”

“We’ll get soaked.”

“There’s a covered pavilion.”

“That we’ll have to share with a hundred other people.”

“Aren’t women sissies?” he said to his son.

“Yup, sissies,” Doug echoed.

Carol gave up the argument and turned to Beth. “Are you sure you’ll be all right?”

“Fine.”

“Now, remember the rules. Doors locked. Don’t tie up the phone. Call Faye next door
if you have any problems.” Teddy’s mother, Faye Carpenter, hadn’t gone off to Atlanta.

Beth started feeling queasy again. She would be glad when everyone had left so that she could lie down. She smiled gamely. Her parents hugged her goodbye. “Hit a home run for me,” she told her father.

“I’ll give it the best I can without my lucky shirt.”

Beth watched them pile into the van. Through the windows, she saw Allison burying her face in a book and Doug playing one-handed catch with a baseball. Beth waved as they pulled out of the driveway. Her father waved, and her mother blew her a kiss. At the end of the street, her father gave a farewell honk with the horn. Beth returned to the house, locked the door, and leaned heavily against it.