Shadows (21 page)

“But God is only a myth, too, isn’t he?” Adam had asked.

“That’s right,” Chet, the most devout atheist she’d ever known, had replied.

“But lots of people still believe in God,” Adam had argued. “So I’m going to go on believing in Santa Claus. And as long as I believe in him, hell keep bringing me presents every Christmas.”

Every Christmas thereafter, Jeanette had made certain that at least one of the packages under the tree was marked “To Adam, From Santa.” Even last Christmas, Adam had saved that package till last, grinning happily as he tore off the wrappings. “See?” he’d pointed out to Jeff. “He never forgets me. And he hasn’t given
you
anything since we were seven.”

Jeff, ever the realist, pointed out that the writing on the label looked suspiciously like their mother’s, but Adam had been undisturbed. “Count your presents,” he said. “Mom and Dad always give us the same number, but I always get one from Santa, too.”

Jeff had counted, and discovered—to his dismay—that his brother was right. For the rest of the day Adam had taunted him with the fact that his refusal to believe had cost him all kinds of terrific things over the years. By the end of the day, Jeff had been bubbling over with fury and frustration, insisting that his brother had figured out a way to cheat on Christmas.

Not that it had done him any good—even Chet hadn’t
been able to keep from laughing at the fact that for the first time Adam had gotten the better of his brother.

And now it was over.

George Engersol had finally stopped speaking. The last prayers had been spoken over the small casket that rested in front of the altar, and the recessional music had begun. With a last lingering look at the closed coffin that contained her son’s body, Jeanette allowed herself to be guided back up the aisle toward the door, then took her place at Chet’s side to accept the condolences of the crowd of mourners.

It was even worse than she’d imagined it could be. No one seemed to know what to say to her, what words to speak to a woman whose adolescent son had chosen to take his own life. All her friends, all the people she’d known for years, now seemed to have lost their tongues, pausing only for the briefest of moments to peck her on the cheek, whisper a brief “I’m so sorry,” and then move quickly away.

Do they think it’s my fault? she found herself wondering. Do they think I failed him in some way?

But hadn’t she? Of course she had. If she’d been a good mother and given Adam all the love and attention he needed, he’d still be alive, wouldn’t he?

She tried to tell herself it wasn’t true, that Hildie Kramer had been right when she’d assured her only the day before that there was nothing she could have done, that she and Chet had done everything they could for Adam, but that there had been forces inside him none of them had understood.

I can’t spend my life blaming myself, she repeated to herself over and over again. I still have Jeff, and I can’t stop living because of what’s happened. And I can’t make him stop living, either.

The last people in the chapel had drifted away. As Chet, Jeanette, and Jeff watched, the casket was borne up the aisle and carried to the waiting hearse. The pallbearers paused for a moment when they came to the family, and Jeanette laid her hand on the mahogany box for a moment, then quietly uttered a single word.

“Good-bye.”

As the family watched silently, the casket was placed in the hearse, and a moment later the hearse pulled away.

By the end of the day, Adam Aldrich’s remains would be cremated and his ashes scattered over the sea.

   Brenda MacCallum glanced at her watch. It was nearly two. If she were to get back to Eden at a reasonable hour, she would have to leave soon. But she still hadn’t had a chance to talk further with Jeanette Aldrich, and as she scanned the thinning crowd on the lawn in front of the Academy, she was afraid Jeanette might already have left. She spotted Chet, deep in conversation with George Engersol, and Jeff, sitting with Josh, Amy Carlson, and some of the other kids in the shade next to the circle of trees they called the Gazebo. But Jeanette was nowhere to be seen.

Then, with the certainty of a mother, Brenda realized where Jeanette must be. Placing her empty lemonade glass on one of the tables that had been set up on the lawn, she set out toward the house, moving gingerly, her high heels sinking into the thick lawn with every step. She’d watched the other women ruefully as they balanced themselves on their toes, their own heels never puncturing the green carpet the way her own did. Of course, in Eden hardly anyone she knew even had a lawn, and those few were usually baked brown by the sun, the earth beneath them hard as a rock. Still, she wished she’d thought to wear flats.

Entering the house, she paused to brush the dirt from her heels, then went up the stairs to the second floor. Adam’s room had been right next to Jeff’s, at the far end, facing the front She moved quickly down the hall, then paused at the closed door of the next-to-last room. She tapped softly. When there was no answer, she turned to leave. But her instincts told her that the room wasn’t empty, so she turned back, tried the knob, and pushed the door open.

Leaning against the wall next to the window, staring off into space, was Jeanette Aldrich.

“Is it okay if I come in?” Brenda asked, feeling as if she’d intruded. “I mean, if you want to be by yourself …”

Jeanette shook her head quickly, almost as if she were
bringing herself back to reality, then stepped forward. “No. It’s all right, Brenda. I was just …” She looked helplessly around the room. With all of Adam’s things gone, the closet open and empty, the bed stripped down to the bare mattress, the room had a forlorn look to it.

“You were just remembering,” Brenda said, entering and pushing the door closed behind her. “When I didn’t see you outside, I figured this is where you’d come.” Her eyes wandered over the room. “It looks kind of forlorn, doesn’t it?”

Jeanette nodded briefly. “But at least I can stand to be in it. If his things were still here, I don’t think I could. I haven’t been able to go into his room at home at all yet.”

Brenda perched herself on the edge of the bed. “I know how you feel. After my husband walked out, I could hardly even stand to get in the bed for a week.” Her face colored in embarrassment.” ’Course, I know it’s not the same thing, but the feeling’s sort of the same, you know?”

For the first time that day, Jeanette smiled. “What amazes me is that
you
know.” She came to sit next to Brenda on the bed. “You’re also the first person who’s actually come looking for me. It seems as though none of my friends want to talk to me. They don’t know what to say.”

“Well, I sure know what that’s like.” Brenda sighed. “After Josh cut his wrists, everyone was real nice, but they sure didn’t want to talk about it. For a few days there, I felt like I’d come down with leprosy or something. But what can you expect? Our kids aren’t like everyone else’s to start with, and when they do things like that, it really throws people.”

Jeanette’s smile faded. “Didn’t it throw you? When Josh tried to kill himself?”

“Sure it did. Scared me half to death. But I had to deal with it, just like I had to deal with every man I’ve ever known dumping me, and I had Melinda to take care of, too. So I brought him here.”

The last of Jeanette’s smile disappeared. “Just as I brought Adam and Jeff,” she said. “And now Adam’s dead.”

Brenda said nothing for a moment, but rose to her feet
and went to the window. “I’ve been thinking about what you said before the funeral. About taking Josh home with me.”

“Good,” Jeanette replied. “I suppose you know by now that I’ve decided to take Jeff out of here. From now on, I want him at home with me.”

“I can sure see why,” Brenda agreed. “But I don’t know if I can take Josh out.” She beckoned to Jeanette. “Come here and take a look at this.”

Jeanette, puzzled, got up from the bed and came to stand next to Brenda. Gazing out the window, she saw nothing particularly remarkable. Just a group of kids sprawled on the lawn, talking among themselves.

“You know, I never saw that before,” Brenda said. “From the day he started going to school, Josh never was part of the group. It was like they just shut him out, and every day of his life he was hurting. But he’s not hurting here. How am I supposed to take him away? You really think I should do that to him? Put him back where he was, where everyone made fun of him, and he was bored all the time?”

Watching the scene through Brenda’s eyes, Jeanette was able for the first time since the tragedy to remember past the last two days.

She remembered the years before she and Chet had enrolled their sons in the Academy, when Jeff and Adam had had no friends except each other. And now, with Adam dead—

“Dear God,” she breathed, more to herself than to Brenda. “What am I supposed to do?”

“Well, I sure can’t tell you,” Brenda replied, still watching the group of children on the lawn. “But I know I can’t take Josh away from here, and before you decide to take Jeff out, maybe you ought to wait a little while.” She turned to face Jeanette. “I know how much you’re hurting, Jeanette. And I’ve done a lot of hurting in my life, too. But it gets better. Some days you think you’re just going to die, but every day it hurts a little less. The main thing is not to do something stupid when you’re hurting, that you can’t take back.”

Jeanette was silent for a moment, and when she finally
spoke, her voice was steady. “You mean the way Adam did?”

Brenda shrugged. “I wasn’t really thinking about Adam right then, but I guess that’s what I mean. And I guess I don’t think you ought to make Jeff pay for Adam’s mistakes, either. You know what I’m saying?”

Jeanette hesitated, then nodded. “I think I do,” she said. “And it’s funny. It’s almost exactly what Jeff told me on the way to the funeral.”

Brenda’s lips formed a wry grin. “Well, you know what they say: ‘Out of the mouths of babes …’ ”

Jeanette took a deep breath. “Come on,” she said. “Let’s go down and have a glass of lemonade, since they aren’t serving anything stronger. And then I’d better tell Jeff he can stay here after all.” As they left the room, she took Brenda’s hand in her own. “I really am glad you came,” she said. “If you hadn’t, I’m not sure what I would have done.”

“You’d have done the right thing,” Brenda told her. “Maybe not right away, but you’d have figured it out. After all, if we’ve got kids as smart as Josh and Jeff, we can’t be too stupid, can we?”

As she started down the stairs with Brenda, Jeanette heard herself laughing out loud. A few minutes ago she hadn’t been at all sure she would ever laugh again.

   “Jeff?” Josh asked.

Jeff turned to look at him, and for a minute Josh wondered if he should even mention the strange sounds he’d heard the night Adam had died. But the more he’d thought about it, and the more he’d thought about the peculiar note he’d seen on Adam’s computer, the less sense the whole thing made. Even though he’d talked to Hildie Kramer and Mr. Conners about the note, they hadn’t seemed to understand what he was saying. Of course, he hadn’t told them about hearing the elevator running when it wasn’t, because he knew they’d laugh at him for having fallen for Jeff’s ghost story about Eustace Barrington. But Jeff had acutally seen the note, and maybe …

He made up his mind. “What do you think really happened to Adam?”

Brad Hinshaw, who was sprawled next to Jeff, looked up. Jeff’s eyes changed slightly, as if a curtain had dropped behind them. “What are you talking about?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” Josh said. “It’s just—Well, all he said in the note was that he was going somewhere. To a better place. He didn’t say he was killing himself. I mean, what if he was just running away?”

Brad groaned. “Come on, Josh. He got hit by a train, didn’t he? I mean, we just went to his funeral, didn’t we?”

Josh felt himself reddening. “But what if it wasn’t Adam at all? What if it was somebody else? They could have switched bodies or something, couldn’t they?”

Jeff Aldrich got to his feet and started away.

“That was really cool, Josh,” Brad said. “If you’re so smart, how could you say something that stupid in front of Jeff? Jeez!”

Josh scrambled to his feet and hurried after Jeff. Catching up to him, he grabbed the older boy’s arm. “Jeff? I—I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything. I was just—Well, I was just wondering about the note, that’s all.”

Jeff stopped, his eyes meeting Josh’s. “You’re lying,” he said. “There’s something else, isn’t there? Besides the note.”

Josh’s toe dug into the ground in front of him. “I—I heard the elevator, too,” he admitted, certain that Jeff would burst out laughing. When the other boy said nothing, Josh went on. “It was just like you said—I could hear it, but it wasn’t moving.”

Jeff’s lips twisted into the strangest smile the younger boy had ever seen. “Then maybe that’s what happened,” Jeff told him. “Maybe Adam isn’t dead at all. Maybe Eustace Barrington came back from the grave and took him away. And maybe, sometime when you’re least expecting it, Adam himself will come and tell you what really happened.”

Josh, stunned by Jeff’s words, dropped his arm.

Jeff Aldrich, the smile still on his fece, turned and walked away.

•  •  •

Late that night, Hildie Kramer went into George Engersol’s private office, closing the door behind her. Engersol glanced up, nodded to her, then finished the file he was working on. A moment later he put the file away, leaned back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest.

“All right,” he said. “How bad is it?”

Hildie smiled. “Not bad at all. The Lowensteins are pulling Monica out of school, and I can’t talk them out of it. But she’s the only one. All the rest are staying, including Jeff Aldrich.”

“Not bad,” Engersol replied. “We can live with it. But it means my special seminar is now short two students. I have two candidates in mind, but I’d like to hear your recommendations first.”

Hildie didn’t hesitate at all. “Josh MacCallum and Amy Carlson,” she said. “They’re both nearly perfect. Two of our brightest students, and both of them have the intellectual and psychological profiles we’re looking for.”