Элизабет Чандлер - Don't Tell

“Yeah, but I don’t do anything personal or profound. My parents take life way too seriously. I like to make people laugh. I had a regular cartoon feature in the school paper and created some for the yearbook. Social satire stuff. I’ve done a couple political cartoons for Wisteria’s paper and just got one accepted in Easton’s, which has a much bigger circulation. Impressed?” he asked, grinning.

“I am,” I replied. I didn’t point out that cartoons can be profound and personal, especially if he was doing political and social satire.

“So explain to me,” Nick said as we walked toward the dock, “how you can ever meet guys at an all-girls school.”

“There aren’t a lot of chances,” I admitted, “but I like it that way.”

“You do? You’re kidding. You have to be.”

“No. We have an all-boys school nearby, and there’s a regular dating exchange going. I take guys to dances, like escorts, but I don’t want to date — not till I’m in college. I don’t want to get hooked like my mother did and become dependent on some guy to make me feel like a person. I’m getting my life and career together first.”

He looked me as if I had just landed from Mars. “That doesn’t mean you can’t date,” he said. “I’m not getting hooked, either, and I’m dating everybody.”

I laughed. “And breaking a few hearts along the way?”

He peeked sideways at me. His lashes were blond. I always knew that, but I had never thought much about his golden lashes, or his green eyes, or the way they brimmed with sunlight and laughter. Now, for some reason, this was all I could think about.

“How can you be so sure,” he asked, “that you’re not breaking hearts by not dating guys?” He turned toward me, blocking my path. “How do you know you’re not breaking my heart?”

His sudden nearness took my breath away. I stepped around him. “I’m not worried about you, just Holly, who’s really looking forward to the prom.”

He thought about that for a moment, then caught up with me. “I’ll always be grateful to Holly,” he said. “If she hadn’t shown mercy, I’d be taking my mother to my last big high school event.”

“What happened to all those others you’re dating?” I asked.

“Well, Kelly invited me to the prom and I said yes. Then Jennifer asked me to the senior formal. And I said yes. I didn’t know they were the same thing.”

I laughed. “Moron!”

“Now neither of them is speaking to me, and their friends, of course, must be loyal. That kind of narrowed the playing field.”

“You got what you deserved,” I said, grinning. “Holly should have said no.”

“Hey, does my stupidity give you the right to bruise a tender heart?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m bruising a heart made of Play-Doh.”

He laughed, then turned toward the water and whistled sharply.

I had been looking toward the house, my eyes avoiding the dock, but now I saw a dog in the river. He swam toward us, stood chest deep in the water, then came bounding forward.

“Put on your rain slicker!” Nick cried.

“What?”

The big dog stopped in front of us and shook hard, sending river water flying.

“Too late,” Nick replied. “But you won’t have to shower tonight. This is Rocky.”

“Rocky. Hi, big guy,” I said and knelt down. “Wow! What eyes!”

“Careful, he stinks, “ Nick warned.

“All water retrievers do,” I replied, running my hands over his thick coat. It was a rich brown and wavy. “He’s a Chesapeake Bay, isn’t he? His fur looks like it.”

“Mostly — he’s enough Chessie to swim in ice water.”

“You are gorgeous!” I said, gazing into his amber eyes.

“Don’t let it go to your head, Rocky,” Nick told his dog.

“She doesn’t date.”

I glanced up. “Now, a dog,” I said, “that’s something I miss, living at school.”

“Maybe you can get an exchange going with a kennel,” Nick suggested.

“No, no,” I said. “I want a dog of my own to love and pamper.”

Nick grunted. Rocky wagged his tail.

I petted around the dog’s wet ears and scratched under his chin. “Such an intelligent face!”

“Yeah, but he’s a lousy dancer.”

I grinned and stood up.

“Are you headed up to the house?” Nick asked.

“Yes.” As we climbed the hill, Rocky ran ahead of us, then circled back and ran ahead again. We stopped at the porch.

“You know the rules, Rock,” Nick said to his dog. “No stinky animals inside.”

“Are you kidding? Aunt Jule won’t mind.”

“I’m here to see Holly.”

“Oh. Of course.” She had told me he was coming. Why else did I think he was walking me to the house?

“We have yearbook work to do,” Nick explained.

“At this point in the year?”

“The supplement,” he answered.

“Well, Rocky can hang out with me.” I stroked the dog’s head. “Come on, big guy.”

Rocky licked my hand and complied, walking next to me as I headed toward the side of the house.

A shrill whistle split the air. “Rocky!” Nick called, sounding exasperated. “Come here. Come!”

The dog trotted back to him.

“What’s going on? You’re not supposed to go off with anybody who pats you on the head. Where’s your training?”

I looked back at Nick, amused. “Jealous?”

“Not of you,” he replied, then motioned to the dog. “Okay, go with Lauren. Go,” he commanded.

The dog raced toward me and I continued walking. With Rocky trotting beside me, I checked the greenhouse and garden in search of Nora. Though I wanted to question her about what she had done, part of me was relieved that she wasn’t in either place. As strange as Nora was as a child, she had never given me the creeps. She did now. Before, when she answered someone who wasn’t there, I figured it was an imaginary playmate. So what if she had one longer than most kids? But my dead mother, that was a different kind of invisible presence. I didn’t want to think about it.

Passing the garden, I came to the old oak tree with the swing. It was tied the same way as always, with a loop dangling about three feet off the ground.

“What do you think, Rocky? Am I still the champion swinger of the group?”

I grabbed the rope and gave it a hard yank, then put my foot in the loop and pulled myself up with my hands, making sure the rope was as strong as it appeared. Jumping down again, I carried the rope to another tree and climbed to “the platform of death,” as we used to call it — a wide branch on an old cherry.

“Here goes” I slipped my foot in the loop, grabbed the rope, and pushed off.

With the first swoop I remembered why I had loved swinging. It was wonderful! It was flying! It was being Peter Pan! The earth fell away, the sky rushed to meet me. I was free and flying high.

Then the rope jerked. It happened so suddenly it caught me off guard. The rope writhed out of my hands. I grabbed for it frantically, but I couldn’t catch hold and fell backward.

With my foot caught in the loop, I hit the ground upside down, back first. The rope snapped, releasing me from the tree and tumbling on top of me.

I lay on my back stunned, the wind knocked out of me.

Rocky nosed my arm. I sat up slowly and gazed up at the tree, which still had a piece of rope dangling from it. The rope had been in too good shape to be snapped by my weight. I quickly examined it, the part that had fallen on me.

About four feet above the foot loop was a knot. My mouth went dry. I thought of the knot in the lamp wire, the knots in my mother’s scarves and jewelry. I had assumed that someone tied those knots before they were discovered, but I hadn’t seen this one when I grasped the swing’s rope.