The River King (36 page)

“I hope you're going to fight to get reinstated,” Mary Beth called when he headed back to his car, even though it was clear to them both that it would be pointless for him to do so.

Abe drove to the school out of habit, like a dog who insists on circling the same plot of land, certain there are birds in the grass. Because he stood a good chance of being arrested if caught venturing onto private property, Abe parked down by the river and walked the rest of the way. He could feel his heart lurching around in his chest, the way it used to when he and Joey took this route. They didn't have to talk back then; they knew where they were headed and what they meant to accomplish. He went past the place where the violets grew in spring and along the dirt trail to the rear of Chalk House. He didn't even know what he wanted until he came to a window through which he could see Eric Herman's living quarters. He could feel something fill up his head, blood or lunacy, he wasn't sure which. He was wearing gloves, because of the chill in the air, or maybe a break-in was what he'd intended all along. Either way, he didn't have to protect himself when he put his fist through the window, shattering the glass, then reached in to unhook the latch.

He pulled himself over the ledge; it wasn't as easy as it once was, he was heavier, for one thing, and there was his bad knee to think of. He was breathing hard by the time he was in Eric's living room. He brushed the glass off and began to take a look around. A thief could decipher a great deal from observing a person's lodgings, and Abe could tell that Betsy would never be happy with the man who lived there. He could not imagine her in this tidy room, beneath the sheets of the perfectly made bed. Even the refrigerator revealed how wrong Herman was for Betsy; all he had was mayonnaise, bottled water, half a jar of olives.

Whenever Abe burglarized a house he could always sense where he would find the best loot, he had a natural ability to zero in on treasures, and as it turned out he hadn't lost that knack. There it was, in the living room, the midterm for Eric's senior history seminar, five pages of questions on Hellenic culture. A typed class list had been paper-clipped to the exam. Quickly, Abe looked down the page until he found what he was looking for. Harry's name.

He rolled up the exam and kept it inside the sleeve of his jacket as he went through the door that opened into the hallway of the dormitory. It was the dinner hour and except for a few boys who were ill, no one was around. It was easy enough to walk down the hallway, and easier still to discern which room was Dr. Howe's old office: there was the mantel into which so many lines had been carved, there were the golden oak floors, and the woodwork that was dusted by the hired maid every other week, and the desk, into which Abe deposited exactly what Harry McKenna deserved.

* * *

CARLIN WAS ON HER WAY HOME FROM A SWIM meet in New Hampshire when she felt him beside her. She had claimed a double seat on the bus for herself, throwing down the black coat, not wanting to be forced into making polite conversation with any of the other girls on the team. It was just as well that the seat next to her was vacant, for now there was room for what was left of August Pierce to settle in beside her, drop by watery drop.

Although Carlin had performed well at the meet, it had been a generally disappointing evening and the bus was quiet, the way it always was after a defeat. Carlin hadn't even bothered to shower before she dressed; her cropped hair was wet and smelled of chlorine, but the droplets of water that now rolled down the plastic seat weren't from her hair, nor from her soaking bathing suit, stowed away in her gym bag. Carlin glanced to see if a nearby window had been left ajar, for there was a fine drizzle falling outside, but all the windows were shut and there were no leaks in the roof of the bus. The liquid Carlin noticed wasn't rainwater; it was murky and green as it spread out over the seat, a watermark that had both weight and form. Carlin could feel her heart racing, the way it did when she pushed herself to the limit during a race. She looked straight ahead and counted to twenty, but she could still feel him beside her.

“Is that you?” Carlin's voice was so small no one on the bus took notice; not even Ivy Cooper in the seat right behind overheard.

Carlin moved one hand to touch the black coat. The fabric was soaking and so frigid to the touch she immediately began to shiver. She could feel the cold moving up her arm, as if ice water had been added to her veins. The bus had already entered Massachusetts and was headed south on 93, toward the Route 17 exit. Outside, it was so dark and damp everything disappeared into the mist, fences and trees, cars and street signs. Carlin reached her hand into the pocket of the black coat to find it had filled with water. There was silt there, too, in among the seams, the grainy mud from the bottom of the river, along with several of the little black stones so often found when the bellies of silver trout were slit open by fishermen's knives.

Carlin glanced across the aisle to where Christine Percy was dozing. In Christine's hazed-over window, she could see Gus's reflection. Inside the black coat, he was as pale as tea water, so translucent his features evaporated in the glare of oncoming headlights. Carlin closed her eyes and leaned her head against the seat. He had appeared beside her because she had wanted him to. She had called him to her, and was calling him still. Even when she fell asleep, she dreamed of water, as if the world were topsy-turvy and everything she cared about had been lost in the deep. She plunged through the green waves with her eyes wide open, searching for the world as she'd known it, but that world no longer existed; everything that had once been solid was liquid now, and the birds swam alongside the fish.

It was not until the bus pulled into the parking lot at Haddan, gears squealing, engine straining, that Carlin awoke. She came back with a start, arms flailing, the way the girls on the team had been taught a drowning person's might, and a wave of panic moved through the bus. At that point, Carlin was making a gurgling sound in the back of her throat, as though she were already past any rescue, but thankfully, Ivy Cooper had a cool head; she quickly handed Carlin a paper bag, into which Carlin breathed until her color returned.

“You're freezing,” Ivy said when their hands touched as Carlin gratefully returned the paper bag. “Maybe you were in the water too long.”

Carlin reached for her black coat and her gym bag, ready to rush off, then realized that most of the girls had turned their attention to a car parked on the grass in front of Chalk House. In spite of the drizzle and the late hour, Bob Thomas was out there along with some other man none of the girls recognized.

“What's happening?” Carlin asked.

“Where have you been?” Ivy Cooper stood beside her. “They're kicking Harry McKenna out of school. They found a midterm exam in his room. There was a hearing last night, and he couldn't talk his way out of it. I heard he broke into Mr. Herman's quarters to get the exam. He smashed the window and everything.”

Sure enough, the trunk of the parked car was filled with suitcases and a heap of possessions tossed in hurriedly. Everything Harry owned was there, his sweaters, his sneakers, his books, his lamp. Some of the girls from the swim team had begun to file out of the bus and were already running through the rain toward St. Anne's, but Carlin stayed where she was, gazing out the window. At last Harry came out, as though he were in a hurry to get somewhere. He was wearing a sweatshirt with a hood, so that it wasn't possible to see his fair hair, or even to manage a good look at his face.

He flung himself into the passenger seat of his father's car, then slammed the door shut. Carlin got off the bus, the last to leave. She could still see Harry from where she stood in the parking lot, but he didn't look at her. The dean and Harry's father didn't bother to shake hands; this was not a friendly parting. Dartmouth had been informed of Harry's expulsion and his admittance there had been retracted. He would not be attending college in the fall, nor would he graduate from high school this year, as he'd been asked to leave before the end of the semester. Carlin followed along behind Harry's father's car as it slowly traversed the speed bumps in the parking lot, then turned onto Main Street. She walked along through the rain, which was falling harder now, hitting against the roofs of the white houses. The car was a luxury model, black and sleek and so quiet most people in town didn't even notice it on the road. Once it had passed the inn, the car began to pick up speed, splashing through the puddles, leaving a thin trail of exhaust that drifted down the center of town.

It was after curfew when Carlin sneaked into her room, and although the hour was late, Amy Elliot was up in bed, sobbing.

“Now are you happy?” Amy cried. “His life is ruined.”

Carlin got into bed, fully dressed. She wasn't happy at all; Harry's departure wouldn't bring Gus back. Gus wouldn't rise from the river in the morning to retrace his steps; he wouldn't wake in his bed, ready for school, eager for his life to go on. When the morning did come, Carlin didn't attend classes. It was the harsh end of the month and torrents of rain were now falling, none of which prevented Carlin from going to the bank to speak to Mike Randall, then taking the bus to a travel agency in Hamilton where she used her funds from Miss Davis to buy a plane ticket. She rode the bus back to Haddan late in the day, going directly to the pharmacy, where she sat down at the counter. By then it was after three and Sean Byers had reported for work. He was at the sink, rinsing out glasses and cups, but when he saw Carlin he dried his hands and came over.

“You're drenched,” he said, his voice a mixture of longing and concern.

Puddles of water had collected on the floor around Carlin's stool and her hair was plastered against her head. Sean poured her a hot cup of coffee.

“Do you ever feel like you want to go home?” Carlin asked him.

Although the pharmacy was usually busy at this hour, the heavy rain seemed to be keeping people off the streets and out of the stores. Sam Arthur from the town council was the only other customer in the place; he was going over the plans for the ground-breaking celebration for the new medical center, muttering to himself and enjoying a strawberry milkshake, an item that was definitely not on his diabetic diet plan.

“Is that what you're thinking about doing?” Sean asked. He hadn't seen Carlin much since Christmas vacation, at least not as much as he would have liked. He still sneaked into the pool, late at night, hoping that she'd be there, too, but she never was. It was as if the time they'd had together existed separately from the rest of their lives, like a dream that's in danger of dissolving as soon as the dreamer awakes. “You're running away?”

“No.” Carlin was shivering in her wet clothes. “I'm flying.” She showed him the one-way ticket.

“Seems like you've already decided.”

“They kicked Harry out of school,” Carlin told Sean.

“Nah. Guys like that never get kicked out of anything.”

“This one did. Late last night. He was expelled for cheating.”

Sean was gleeful. He did a little victory dance, which made Carlin explode into giggles.

“You're not pretty when you gloat,” she told him; all the same, she laughed.

“You are,” Sean said. “I just wish you weren't such a coward.”

A group of ravenous Haddan students had braved the rain on a mission for hamburgers and fries and Sean was called to take their order. Carlin watched as he tossed meat patties onto the grill and started the fryer. Even here in the pharmacy, Carlin felt as though she were stuck underwater. The world outside floated by—Mrs. Jeremy with her umbrella, a delivery truck of hibiscus pulling up to the Lucky Day, a gang of kids from the elementary school racing home in rain slickers and boots.

“I'm not a coward,” Carlin told Sean when he returned and refilled her cup with steaming black coffee.

“You're letting them chase you off. What do you call it?”

“Wanting to go home.”

Because of his extremely dark eyes Sean Byers had the ability to hide most of what he felt inside. He'd always been a good liar; he'd talked himself out of situations that would have landed anyone else in jail, but he wasn't lying now. “This is what you always wanted. Why would you leave if you weren't being chased off?”

Carlin threw down some money to pay for her coffee, then headed for the door. The potatoes in the fryer were sizzling, but Scan followed her anyway. He truly didn't care if the whole place burned to the ground. The rain was falling in such torrents that when it hit against the asphalt it sounded as if guns had been fired or cannons discharged. Before Carlin could plunge onto the sidewalk, Sean pulled her back beneath the pharmacy awning. He was crazy about her, but that's not what was at stake here. The rain was coming down harder, yet Carlin could hear Sean's heart beneath the fabric of his shirt and the rough white apron he wore. All the world out there was liquid, all of it enough to pull her down, and so, for this brief time she held on tight and did her best not to drown.

* * *

A TENT HAD BEEN SET UP IN THE FIELD behind town hall and above it a flag had been raised to wave in the wind so that no one in town would fail to notice the ground-breaking celebration. The Becker construction company had been retained by the town council and Ronny Becker, Doreen and Nikki's father, had already bulldozed a level area that allowed the tent to be set up on flat ground; it certainly wouldn't do for any of the older guests such as Mrs. Evans, who'd recently been in need of a cane, to tumble over the ruts and break a hip or a leg.

The Chazz Dixon band played that afternoon, and two dozen of Mr. Dixon's violin and flute students from the elementary school were allowed to miss their last class in order to attend. Thankfully fully, even though it was the rainy season, the afternoon was clear and sunny with a brisk, rather enjoyable west wind. Just to be safe, portable heaters had been set up inside the tent, to ensure that those in attendance could enjoy the salmon sandwiches and cream cheese puffs that the staff of the Haddan School cafeteria served on large silver trays. It came as no surprise to anyone that while people from town tended to congregate over by the bar, the staff and faculty of the school gathered around the hors d'oeuvres table, gorging on deviled eggs and clam cakes.