Keep Me in Your Heart (30 page)

“I remembered something about the night of the accident.”

“What?”

“Not here,” she said.

“Then where?”

“You know where,” she said, slamming the door.

He didn’t say a word but got into the truck and put it into gear. He waited while she went to her car and got in. They both knew where they were going.

As she approached the site of the accident, Trisha felt her mouth go dry and her hands grow cold. Tucker parked on the shoulder of the road at the same place where his car had slid and careened into the field and overturned. She pulled in behind his truck. May sunlight spilled over the landscape like warm honey. Trees sprouted green leaves, spring wildflowers bloomed along the roadside, and in the field, heavy black dirt that had been freshly turned waited to be planted with rows of corn.

Trisha slid out of her car and stood gazing out over the field, an aching sadness pressing against her heart. No visible damage remained from the accident; the earth looked whole and new again.

Tucker came around to stand beside her, his arms folded across his chest. “Can we talk now?”

Without looking at him, she said, “You passed on the right side. You couldn’t get around the other car on the left because it kept speeding up, trapping you behind it. So you put your car into a lower gear and tried to shoot around them to the right, on the shoulder of the road. That’s why you hit the ice. That’s why you lost control.”

“Is that what you remember?”

“When the police talked to me, I told them that the roads were clear that night, freshly salted. So in order for you to have hit ice and lost control, you had to be on the shoulder, where it hadn’t been salted.” She rested her back on the truck’s fender, which was still warm from the spinning of the tires. “What I didn’t remember before, but do now, is glancing out my window and seeing the boys’ faces in the other car as we passed them. They looked shocked because they hadn’t expected you to do that—to pass on the right. I wouldn’t have remembered seeing their faces if you’d passed on the left, the way you’re supposed to. It would have been impossible, because if you’d pulled around them on the left, their car would have been on Cody’s side of the car, not mine.”

She turned and faced him. “Did you really think you could get away with it? Were you counting on me having a permanent mental block about it?”

“No,” he said. “I figured either you or Cody would remember eventually.”

“Well, Cody isn’t any threat, is he? I mean, the accident
—your
accident,” she added hotly, “wiped his mind clean. That must have been a real plus for you.”

“Stop it,” Tucker said. “I never wanted that to happen to Cody. I never wanted any of it to happen.”

“How could you have gone through the inquest and not told the truth?”

“I told the truth,” he said, catching her off guard. “The police knew the truth because I told them. So did the guys in the other car. I wasn’t speeding, but yes, I did pass illegally.”

She didn’t know whether or not to believe him. “And the judge still ruled that you weren’t to blame?”

“Because Christina grabbed my arm,” he said, his voice shaking. “She snatched my hand off the steering wheel and … and … I lost control of the car.”

“You’re blaming
Christina
?” Trisha was incredulous.

“No,” he said quickly. “I’m blaming myself. I’ve always blamed myself. But she did grab my arm. It’s no excuse, because I was trying to get around the other car on the right and I shouldn’t have done that. The accident was my fault. My fault,” he repeated. “I killed Christina.”

Hearing him say the words was not nearly as satisfying as Trisha had imagined it would be. The sure knowledge hurt unbearably. As if he’d taken a knife and cut her heart open. She couldn’t stop the hot tears that stung and burned her eyes. “And the judge
knew
? Her parents
knew
? And they let you walk away from it?”

“It wasn’t a secret,” he said. “I kept trying to pass the other car on the left—three, four, five times. Finally, the driver put the car in the center of the road, sort of like he was daring me to get past. I knew he wouldn’t expect me to go to his right. I know I shouldn’t have, but I did anyway. I would have made it too, except that when the tires crunched on the gravel on the shoulder, Christina panicked and grabbed the
wheel. She turned it just enough. Then we hit ice and went airborne.”

As he talked, the memories tumbled and fell on Trisha like lead pellets. She saw the boys’ startled faces going by her window. She saw Tucker’s hand on the gearshift, saw Christina’s arm dart across the console to the steering wheel, and heard her scream,
“No! Don’t!”
It was true. Everything Tucker said was true.

“And you were never going to tell anybody what really happened?”

“I wouldn’t have denied it if it came out, but I wasn’t going to go out of my way to spread it around either. ‘Hey, look at me, everybody—I killed my girlfriend because I made a stupid mistake.’ ”

“You kept quiet to save face,” she said bitterly. “You’re a coward.”

The muscles in his jaw worked, as if he were clenching his teeth. “Probably so. But you weren’t the only one who lost someone they loved that night, Trisha. You’ve been acting like you’re the only one who’s hurting. I lost the only girl I ever loved. And I have no one to blame except myself.”

“And by not telling the truth, everyone feels
sorry for you. ‘Poor Tucker,’ ” she spit out the words. “I
know
others are hurt. Her parents are ruined forever!”

“Her parents said that ruining my life with a lawsuit wouldn’t bring her back,” Tucker said, ignoring Trisha’s outburst. “I blubbered like a baby, telling them I was sorry. They said they forgave me, but I don’t know how they can.”

“And Cody’s life too!” she cried. “Look at all he’s lost. He’s not even the same person he was before the accident.”

“You can’t say anything to me I haven’t already said to myself. Will it make you feel better if I stand up in front of the whole school and say, ‘I killed Christina’? Is that what you want?”

She didn’t know what she wanted. She hurt so badly at the moment that she couldn’t think straight. “You used to bully her, try to force her to do what you wanted her to do. You were never very nice to her, Tucker. You tell me you loved her, but I know how much you made her cry.”

“I know that too.” His eyes looked watery. “I’d give anything if I could see her again. If I could touch her and tell her how sorry I am … about … everything.”

“You can’t turn back time,” Trisha said. “No one can.” It was too late for Tucker. And yet she knew Christina really loved him despite all his bad behavior. Her hate for him began to crumble. The burden of his guilt weighed far more than the pain of Trisha’s loss. His knowledge of all that he’d done before and after Christina died was a permanent scar on his life.

Trisha walked away, but only got as far as the white-cross memorial. The cheerleading squad had kept its promise to maintain the memorial with flowers. A planter box had been erected around the base of the cross, and colorful pansies fluttered in the breezy twilight. She saw that someone had carved the initials
CE
and the date Christina had died in the center of the cross.

Trisha dropped to her knees in front of the box. She fingered the petals of the pansies, then buried her face in her hands and wept.

She felt Tucker’s presence as he crouched beside her. “I’m sorry, Christina,” he whispered. “So … sorry.” He touched Trisha’s shoulder. “Come on. Follow me back to town. Tomorrow you can tell people whatever you want. I don’t care anymore.”

*  *  *

Trisha went over to Cody’s that night and told him what had happened with Tucker. He shook his head. “I don’t remember any of it. It’s all a blank. But I feel sorry for Tucker, because he can’t ever get away from the memory. It’ll be his curse for as long as he lives.”

She told her parents too, and they were sorry but philosophical about it. “Maybe Tucker wasn’t trying to hide the truth,” Trisha’s dad said. “He was probably just trying to get out from under the burden of it for a while. Knowing he caused someone to die and two others to be hurt so badly must have been a heavy load to carry.”

“So you’re telling me that you’re not mad at him?”

“I’m furious with him.” Her dad stroked her hair. “If it had been you who died, I’d probably have taken him apart with my bare hands. But I understand how Christina’s parents feel too. Ruining Tucker’s life by insisting that he go to jail for a lapse in judgment won’t change a thing. It won’t bring Christina back. And she did grab the steering wheel—not that I’m blaming her. Who knows what might have happened if she hadn’t done that?”

In the end, Trisha didn’t tell anyone at school. She was surprised, however, when Tucker did. He told one of his closer friends, who told another, who told another. The story spread through school, but not like malicious wildfire. It went from group to group to group like water seeping beneath a dam, touching everyone. Tucker’s revelation changed nothing at school, since most kids felt sorry for him. Others considered it ancient history and said it should be put in the past—that the future was what mattered. Trisha had thought that having everybody know the truth about Tucker’s real role in the accident would make her feel different, maybe even better. But it didn’t.

Two weeks before graduation, Cody called Trisha to say, “It’s official—I’m not going to graduate with our class.”

Twenty
 

T
risha couldn’t believe Cody’s bad news. “That’s not fair! You’ve worked so hard! How can they do this to you?”

“I had too much stuff to relearn. I couldn’t keep up with the new material. I’m at least half a year behind. And I missed too many days to qualify for passing.” He sounded dejected.

“You should go before the school board. Your mom can persuade them to make an exception. None of this was your fault.”

“I think my parents are relieved. They hate having me out of their sight—especially Mom. So now I have to stick around instead of going
off to college. Remember how we were going to go to IU together? It’s not going to happen.”

“Well, that settles it. If you’re staying here, so am I. I wasn’t crazy about leaving in September anyway. I filled out the forms because my parents begged me to, but I don’t have to go away if I don’t want to.”

“But what about college? You should go. You’re smart and you’ve planned for years on going to college.”

“I’ll go to the community college,” she said. “And I’ll live at home and see you every day until you earn your diploma.”

“You’d do that for me?”

“You bet I will. No matter what my parents say, I know this is what I want.”

The graduation ceremony was held at the civic center at the end of the first week of June. Trisha put on the bright yellow robe and smiled for her parents’ camera, but a part of her felt detached. It wasn’t the senior year she’d planned or dreamed about. For years, she’d planned to make the walk with Christina and Cody. Yet now she was making it alone. Christina was gone and Cody was sitting in the audience with Trisha’s family.

At the ceremony, the administration paid tribute to Christina’s brief life by placing a blowup of the two-page memorial from the yearbook and a folded cap and gown on a chair onstage. Every senior who walked across the stage to receive a diploma passed the memorial. Many tossed mementos—flowers, school pennants, pom-poms, varsity letters—every kind of small token. Trisha passed the chair with tears in her eyes, pausing long enough to kiss the tips of her fingers and touch the mortarboard. “Goodbye, Christina,” she whispered.

With summer upon her, Trisha found a job as a cashier in a store not far from her home and continued working at the nursing home in her off hours. She dated Cody and saw Abby whenever she could. When she heard the news that Tucker had gone to live with relatives in another state, she felt a deep relief. It helped to know she wouldn’t see him around.

One night in July, Trisha’s mother shook her awake. “What’s wrong?” Trisha squinted from the glare of the bedside lamp. Her digital clock read 1:35
A.M.

“The nursing home called,” her mother said. “They asked me to wake you to let you know that Mr. Tappin is dying.”

Trisha hurried to the home, hoping and praying that the old man would hold on until she arrived. When she got there, she found Mrs. Kimble sitting by Mr. Tappin’s bed reading a book.

“How is he?” Trisha asked.

“His breathing is labored,” Mrs. Kimble said. “It won’t be long now.”

Trisha collapsed into a chair. “I’m so glad I made it in time.”

“You didn’t have to come, child.”

“Yes, I did. You see, I promised him I wouldn’t let him die alone.” As she said the words, she realized how dumb they must sound. Mr. Tappin had Alzheimer’s—he knew little of the world of reality.

Mrs. Kimble put her book aside. “I’ll go down the hall to check on Mrs. Anderson while you wait.”

When Trisha was alone, she picked up Mr. Tappin’s hand. His skin felt dry and flaky. In the dim light from the wall lamp, he looked very old. His skin was pulled tight across his face, his eyes sunken in their sockets. His mouth was
open, and his breath came in spurts with long stretches of silence in between. Trisha wanted to cry for him, but she couldn’t. Death would free him from the prison of his diseased mind. Death would release his frail body from the shackles of age. His soul would be free to rise to heaven and wrap around eternity. She couldn’t feel sorry for him. “Say hello to Christina when you see her,” she said to him.