The Right Time (13 page)

“We were on the beach, and my friends…” A short, bitter laugh came out as she tossed her head to force the hair from her face. Quietly, she repeated the word. “Friends.” After another cleansing breath, she continued, “I was alone. I guess I was lucky that some people were out walking and they saw that the tide was about to take me out. I guess I dodged two bullets that night. I could have drowned or ODd.” She shrugged, looking even younger and more fragile while matter-of-factly revealing these horrible details.

“I was in a coma for three or four days. They thought I might need a liver transplant but…” Slowly, tears leaked from her eyes. “I don’t want to die,” she said, gasping for breath as she fell into her chair. Hennessy wrapped her in a hug while trying to maintain even a wisp of emotional distance. Even though she was doing her best to comfort Townsend, she’d never craved reassurance so deeply. To have some trustworthy adult convince her this would all work out. That Townsend would just get better and better and would break through the chains that locked her into her destructive patterns. But there wasn’t a soul who could do that. Not a damned soul.

Hennessy didn’t say much on the drive home. Townsend had really let it out and that had to make a person feel very raw. But she was sending out a strong signal that she was finished with being vulnerable, now slumped down in her seat, looking just like she had the first days of camp.

Hennessy kept sneaking glances, searching for signs of life, finding none. But Hennessy had to at least compliment her for letting it out. “What you said tonight took a lot of courage. That was a big, big first step.”

“Ehh.” Her voice bore the jaded, uninvolved tone it had the day Hennessy met her. She shrugged. “No big deal. Listening to everybody else spill their guts made me jump on for the ride.” A hand waved lazily. “I didn’t care for it.”

Warning bells rang out so loudly in Hennessy’s head she wanted to pull over, grab Townsend by the shoulders and shake her. But she couldn’t do that. This was Townsend’s battle, and she had to be the one to wage it.

As soon as they pulled into the parking lot, Townsend said, “I’m gonna head over to the rec bungalow. You coming?”

“In a few.” As soon as Townsend made the turn, Hennessy headed right to Destiny’s. She wasn’t sure Destiny understood alcoholism, but she was certain she understood how tough it was for a kid like Townsend to be vulnerable in front of people.

Destiny did understand, and she spent a good half-hour trying to calm Hennessy down. It didn’t help much, but she had a slightly better perspective when she left. Heading over to the rec bungalow, she saw only four of her charges—Townsend and Devlin notably missing.

Devlin had been a puzzlement to her from the beginning. She was a little quirky and a little obstreperous, but otherwise hadn’t given Hennessy any trouble at all. She was in the poetry program, so Hennessy didn’t have much contact with her except around the bungalow. And even there she was usually in her room, writing. To Hennessy’s knowledge, she and Townsend were barely acquaintances—but something about their concurrent disappearances gave her pause.

She checked all of the usual spots, but neither of them turned up. It was only nine, and since it was Saturday night, they didn’t have a curfew. Quite a few of the kids stayed in the rec bungalow until midnight or one, watching videos and acting like typical adolescents. But Hennessy couldn’t rest until she found the pair.

Looking all around the compound, her worry grew until she was about to call security to help her search. She was headed back to Sandpiper when she saw movement by the boat dock.

Hilton Head was a mass of creeks, rivers, ponds, and marshes. Camp was located just off Calibogue Sound, a significant body of water that led to the ocean, but the camp bordered Broad Creek, a more manageable waterway. That’s where they kept a powerboat, seldom used, and secured under padlock to avoid having a camper harm herself. Suddenly the ancient engine coughed to life. Hennessy took off like a scalded cat, but she didn’t make it in time. When she reached the dock, all she saw under the light of the full moon was Townsend’s backpack, obviously left in haste. She picked it up and searched it, finding a set of tools wrapped in a soft leather case. She’d read enough detective novels to know what she held in her hands—a set of burglary tools, complete with files, a pry bar, and a lock pick.

The girls didn’t know they’d been spotted during their escape, and Hennessy plopped down on the end of the dock and called for reinforcements. Waiting for Destiny to arrive, she tried to remind herself to put this in context. She’d seen her daddy do the same kind of thing more times that she could count. Something set him off, then he was off to the races. You couldn’t always predict what it would be, but it was enough to make him throw away weeks, or even months, of sobriety over it. What Townsend had done that night was big. She’d admitted something that labeled her. She wasn’t just a girl who liked to party. She had a disease. A disease she had to cure herself of.

Hennessy knew she’d never truly understand what went on in an alcoholic’s head. No one could ever know what caused a person to slowly destroy herself. But you had to maintain some empathy, no matter how angry you got. Alcoholics had enough self-hatred. Adding more to the mix never helped.

Destiny arrived, panting from exertion. “Where are they?” she asked, her eyes wide with anxiety.

“Right there.” The moon was bright enough to catch the image of a small boat, bobbing in the creek. They’d gone inland, away from the sound, like they were trying to be safe. Hennessy was confident they were just letting off some steam—if they didn’t take off again and head for deep water. “I think she’s turned the motor off. They’re probably just talking.”

“Or drinking or smoking grass or shooting heroin.” Destiny sank heavily onto the dock, and dropped her face into her palm. “We should call the police. Or the…what?” She looked up. “Coast Guard?”

“The police can bring them in, but I don’t think we have to do that yet. If they don’t come toward shore, we’ll raise an alarm.”

“Why not now?”

“Because it’ll be a big damn deal,” Hennessy said. “We’ll have to get their parents involved and all sorts of stuff. Let’s give them fifteen minutes. They can’t get into too much trouble in fifteen minutes.”

Glumly, Destiny said, “Townsend could burn Atlanta in fifteen minutes. I wouldn’t trust her to watch over a sack full of shit.”

Hennessy couldn’t really argue with her, but she’d seen another side of Townsend. One she knew contained a sweet, tender soul, a sweetness Townsend worked hard to never reveal.

The boat sputtered to life ten minutes later and headed right back home. Relief flooded through Hennessy’s body, but her empathy had begun to abandon her as they waited. This was such a childish stunt. One that Townsend had to have known would land her in hot water. But when she was in a mood, she didn’t seem to have the ability to think of consequences—no matter how grave.

The boat slapped at the water as it got near the dock. As expected, Townsend had her hand on the motor, expertly steering them in. But Hennessy didn’t have time to admire her skill. Devlin was crying, looking up at Hennessy and Destiny in a panic.

“She made me go!” Devlin gasped out. “The whole thing was her idea, and then she…she…tried to rape me!”

Hennessy almost fell from the dock. If Destiny hadn’t been right next to her, she would have landed in the water and been sucked under the outboard.

“Liar!” Townsend shouted, so full of rage she was on the verge of slugging the other kid. “I told you what I wanted and you jumped right into the boat. I tried to go one tiny step further and all of a sudden I’m a rapist? You’re a big baby!”

“And you’re a big, dyke rapist!” Devlin scrambled from the boat and started to run.

“I’ll go get her,” Destiny said, leveling Townsend with a look. “Bring Townsend to Mary Ann’s. I’ll wait—a few minutes—to call the police.”

“Let’s go,” Hennessy growled, grabbing Townsend’s backpack. She started to walk, silently repeating calming words as she took deep, measured breaths.

“I didn’t hurt her!” Townsend insisted, grabbing at Hennessy’s shirt to slow her down.

“You’ll have the chance to make your case.” That was all she could manage. She didn’t have it in her to listen to a story at that minute.

“Make my case?” Townsend must have stopped, because her voice maintained every bit of outrage, but grew quieter.

Hennessy didn’t turn around. She was too angry. “Get your ass to the administration bungalow,” she growled. “Unless you want to tell your story to the police.”

There was just enough noise behind her to indicate Townsend was following along. It took ten long minutes to get close, and right before they reached the path that led to the bungalow Townsend put on a burst of speed and caught up. Her lungs still wouldn’t let her go far without panting, but she stood in front of Hennessy, the moonlight painting her face with a pale light that gave her a bluish cast. “I didn’t do anything wrong,” she insisted, her hand gripping Hennessy’s arm hard.

It was still hard to look at her without wanting to take a swing. “You picked the lock on the motor. You stole Mary Ann’s personal boat. You did
something
that made Devlin feel violated.” Shaking her head in disgust, she pushed past Townsend and started to walk again. “You’ve got a lot of damned nerve to say you did nothing wrong.”

When she started to enter the building. Townsend was still standing right where she’d left her. She said just two words, but they were spoken in such a pain-filled, pleading voice that Hennessy thought she might remember them for the rest of her life: “Believe me,” she whimpered.

Stopping mid-step, Hennessy’s shoulders slumped and she leaned against the bungalow, trying to get her thoughts straight. After sucking in a breath, she walked back to Townsend who stood there in the clearing, her face showing hurt and confusion and just a little of the outrage that had lit her features earlier.

Hennessy put a hand on her shoulder and spoke carefully. “Given how you’ve lived in the last few years, I’m sure you don’t think you did anything wrong. But you did, Townsend. Now come inside and tell us what happened.”

“Will you believe me?” she asked, her voice shaking.

It was too dark to see her eyes clearly, but Hennessy could feel them boring into her, demanding an answer. “If you tell the truth, I’ll believe you.”

Whip-like, Townsend’s hand struck out to grab Hennessy’s arm and hang on. “I’ll never lie to you,” she promised.

For some reason, probably a bad one, Hennessy believed her. “Okay. Then let’s get this over with.”

“I promise,” Townsend said again, her voice filled with fervor. “I’ll never lie.”

Mary Ann and Destiny were talking to Devlin in the office, leaving Townsend and Hennessy to sit in the usually comfortable main room. But tonight, the upholstery was scratchy and the furniture seemed big and heavy—almost foreboding.

There wasn’t much to talk about, given they were going to have to go over everything with Mary Ann and Destiny and maybe even the police. So they sat there, unspeaking, for an hour.

Finally, Destiny and Devlin walked out, both looking down as they crossed through the room. Mary Ann came out and sat in her usual chair. To Hennessy’s always perceptive gaze, she looked wrung-out. She wasn’t sure how much money Mary Ann made off the camp, if anything, but she bet there were days any amount of money wouldn’t have been worth it. Tonight looked like it might be one of those.

“Devlin’s going to apologize for what she accused you of,” Mary Ann said, gazing at Townsend.

Hennessy could see Townsend’s body start to relax and her own posture loosened up.

“You pushed her farther than she wanted to go, but she admitted you didn’t force her to do anything.” She leaned forward, her pale eyes locked on Townsend. “I need this camp to be a safe space for all of the girls. This isn’t the place to experiment with sex or drugs or alcohol.”

Townsend seemed to shrink, to physically become smaller as Mary Ann’s words settled upon her. “I’m not experimenting,” she grumbled. “I’m gay and I thought she was too.”

“Maybe she is,” Mary Ann said, her voice filled with empathy. “But she needs to figure that out when she’s at home.”

“I won’t touch her again.” Townsend’s arms were folded over her belly, her chin tilted down so it touched her sternum.

“Did you offer her drugs?” Mary Ann continued.

“No!” Leaping to her feet, Townsend’s cheeks were instantly aflame. “She asked
me
for drugs.”

“Did you give her any?”

“I did not,” she said, spitting out each word.

Mary Ann stood, then walked over to the window, gazing out at the moonlit trees. “All right. You can go back to your cabin now. Hennessy can decide what to do about the boat.”

They both got up, and Hennessy turned to meet Mary Ann’s encouraging gaze before they stepped out into the still, hot night. As they walked, Hennessy thought over exactly what Mary Ann had said. She hadn’t specifically asked if Townsend had drugs. She’d only established that none had been exchanged.