A Whisper in Time (27 page)

“Sure would.” She laughed. “As far as Mark is concerned, that’s a good thing.”

I smiled. “Indeed.”

C
HAPTER
T
HIRTY
-S
IX

N
O
T
RESPASSING

The separation from Susanna was driving me crazy.

My parents wouldn’t let me go over there. Normally, I would ignore something like that, but Susanna wouldn’t. She was programmed to obey. Clearly, she already knew the terms of the punishment, ‘cause she hadn’t tried to call or text or email.

There had to be somebody I could complain to. I got my sister on the phone.

“Hello?” Marissa sounded sleepy.

“Mom and Dad made Susanna leave. She’s moved to the lake house.”

“Whoa.” I could almost feel Marissa sitting up and paying attention now. “That sounds pretty drastic. What happened? Did they catch you in bed?”

Maybe this had been a mistake. “Actually, yes, but it’s not what you think.”

Marissa laughed. “I’ve talked with Susanna enough times on the phone to know that it’s probably exactly what I think—which is nothing.”

“Thank you.” I exhaled a noisy, grateful breath. “Too bad our parents don’t get it.”

“Oh, cut ‘em some slack, Mark. They were our age once. They know what it’s like to be dying to get into each other’s—”

“Stop. That’s not an image I need in my head.” I sprawled onto my bed and closed my eyes. “I want her back.”

Marissa’s voice softened. “You will. You’re great together. Mom and Dad need to get over themselves.”

“Yeah. I hope it’s soon.”

“It will be.” She cleared her throat. “Fletcher might be traveling to Costa Rica next semester.”

“Are you paying for that too?”

She grunted. “No, Mark.”

“I’m not going to pretend that I like it. He plays while you work. The whole setup sucks.”

“Things aren’t that bad.” Her voice wobbled.

Very interesting. She didn’t sound convinced. “Right.”

“Really, Mark. It’s just that Fletcher thinks…”

I didn’t care what Fletcher Mills thought about anything, but my sister had listened to me. It was my turn to listen to her.

Besides, fifteen minutes would go by, and I’d have something new to be mad about.

* * *

Keefe Halligan bumped me in the senior hallway, nearly knocking my backpack off my shoulder. I’d managed to avoid him since he won our age division at the Carolina Cross-country Challenge over the summer.

“Hey, Lewis, got any big races coming up?”

I shrugged and kept walking. None of his damn business.

“Going to the Boone Classic?”

I stopped and spun around. We had an audience. The Hungry Mother race and the Boone Classic were the same weekend. I’d already made the choice to spend the weekend in Virginia and race with my dad. Halligan would have to compete in the Boone Classic without me. And, no, I wasn’t telling him a thing. Let him sweat out whether I would be upping his competition. “Worried, Halligan?”

He laughed and made a sharp turn into his next classroom.

Gabrielle walked over and linked her arm through mine. “What was that all about?”

I stiffened at her touch and then forced myself to relax. Actors didn’t have the same rules the rest of us did. This was casual for her. I had to learn to let it be casual for me. “Halligan and I sometimes compete in the same mountain-bike races. We’re trying to psych each other out.”

“Sounds stupid to me.” She started down the hall, dragging me along with her. “My mom is flying into Raleigh this afternoon with her husband.”

In the nearly two months we’d been lab partners, she’d never mentioned them before. “Are they coming for the homecoming game?”

“No. They’ll leave by Wednesday.”

Okay. A two-day visit wasn’t very long. “Did they forget? Maybe if you reminded them…”

She was shaking her head. “They didn’t forget. They’re just busy people. Mom’s husband has a golf tournament in Florida.” She pasted on a smile. “I thought I might have a little party so they can meet some of my friends. Can you come?”

We’d reached my classroom. I slipped my arm from hers and moved back a step. “When’s the party?”

“Tonight.”

“Sure, I can make it.” It wasn’t like I had any other plans. “Are Jesse and Benita coming?”

She nodded. “You should bring Susanna and your bathing suits. The pool is heated.”

Despite the fact that it would never happen, I tried to imagine Susanna in a bathing suit.

A bikini. With tiny triangles for the top. Holy shit.

Of course, a strapless one-piece could be quite nice too, if it were the right one.

A memory surfaced from the day she’d escaped. She’d worn her shift into the bathtub. It had turned into a second skin. Heat flushed through me.

Okay, stop
. I was in the hallway. Gabrielle was right here watching me, and she needed an answer.

“Thanks, but Susanna can’t make it,” I mumbled. I turned toward the classroom as the tardy bell rang.

She caught my elbow, stopping me. “This may not be the time—”

“Uh, Gabrielle, we’re late.” I glanced at my third-period teacher, who returned the glance with mild curiosity. In fact, everyone in the room could see me, framed by the doorway, with our senior-class movie star.

“This is important. They’ll understand.” She leaned closer and lowered her voice for my ears only, uncaring that we were the only ones left in the hall or that we were being watched with eager speculation by my entire French class. “The more I hear about your girlfriend, the more concerned I get. She never comes to anything, like she’s some princess in a castle and you always have to go to her. Are you sure she isn’t taking advantage of you?”

“Gabrielle, in case you can’t read faces, mine is saying ‘No Trespassing.’” I backed a step away from her and crossed my arms over my chest. “I don’t ask about Korry. You don’t ask about Susanna.”

“You don’t have to ask me about Korry.
Teen Trash
can fill you in on all the details you’d ever want.”

“Not funny.” I stared at her through narrowed eyes. “If you want to stay friends with me, Susanna is off-limits.”

“Got it.”

“Fine.” I headed into the classroom.

“Seven at my aunt’s house?” she called after me.

I could almost feel the ripple that went through the class. I glanced at Gabrielle over my shoulder, puzzled at why she was so public about our friendship—if we could even call it that.

She smiled at me, with her perfect face and shining hair and…sad eyes. And it hit me. She spent a lot of her life with people who were paid to be around her. She lived with her aunt, a city councilwoman who was always busy. Her mom flew in for two-day-only visits and missed important stuff in her daughter’s life so that her husband could play golf. Korry was on the other side of the world.

All of Gabrielle’s relationships sucked.

I nodded. “See you at seven.”

C
HAPTER
T
HIRTY
-S
EVEN

A W
ORRISOME
C
HANGE

I didn’t have the opportunity to relax and read more journal entries until late in the afternoon. I opened Charlie’s computer and popped in the DVD. With all of the excitement of researching Dorcas, celebrating my birthday, and then moving to the lake house, I’d put off reading the last journal. Finally, I had the chance to learn what had happened in the months and years after the saving of Phoebe’s thumb.

The images in this journal showed grave disrepair. Pages were splotched and torn. Edges had crumbled. I dearly hoped that not too many of the pages in the journal had been destroyed.

So the final journal was a new one—a gift from Mrs. Eton. Phoebe had received it for her birthday and last day of service. It was a kind remembrance and yet a bit excessive for a departing maid. I should’ve greatly preferred Mrs. Eton as a mistress to the one I’d had, but that didn’t alter how very peculiar it would’ve been for servants to understand their place in the Eton household.

I, too, understood how it felt to be punished harshly and unjustly for merely speaking the truth. This shopkeeper was the kind of employer I had feared for Phoebe. Perhaps Mrs. Simpson wasn’t as bad as the Pratts, but she was deeply unpleasant in her own right.

There was nothing I could do. My sister would have to find her own way.

“Susanna?” Norah called up the stairs. “Supper.”

As I turned away from the computer, I felt a swell of pride at Phoebe’s most recent entries. She’d grown into a fine young woman with a strong mind. I had no worries for her future now.

* * *

I was eager to resume my reading of Phoebe’s last journal later that evening. Indeed, I had curled on the couch in the great room of the lake house, in companionable silence with Norah and Charlie, when there was a knock at the door.

Bruce stepped in, his arms cradling a large box, and nodded gravely at me. “You have a job, Susanna.”

He looked so solemn that I feared at first I had misunderstood. Rising slowly, I set the laptop on the coffee table and crossed the room to peek in the box. On top lay a sheet with instructions from Sherri, the date that the work must be completed, and the fee they intended to pay me—which made me blink in happy surprise. The box also held invitations with envelopes of a heavy cream paper, as well as a set of special pens. I lifted one of the pens, noting the shape and weight in my hand. It felt good.

“Thank you for bringing them, Bruce,” I said with a shy smile.

“My pleasure.” He placed the box on the kitchen table, leaned over to press a quick kiss to my forehead, and then crossed to where Norah and Charlie watched from their chairs.

I treasured that touch. It was the first such caress from him and, coming so soon after the transgressions of Sunday, it did much to ease my distress.

Turning back to the box, I drew out the items, one by one, and arranged them on the table, my hands trembling with anticipation. Phoebe’s journals would have to wait. I had a job!

I worked late into the night, finishing much of the work before retiring. Each stroke and flourish of the pen was made with the utmost care. No one would be able to fault the quality of my efforts. I remained confident that I could complete the rest on the next day—pleased yet baffled that I would be rewarded with so much money for so little effort.