The Winter Lodge (36 page)

She tried to picture her kid as a teenager, but the image wouldn’t form. She simply could not fathom the idea that her body could create a life-sized human, let alone one that sassed its mom and got in trouble at school. Still, she vowed she would be a different kind of mom. She’d be best friends with her kid. They’d listen to the same kind of music and she wouldn’t yell about grades and getting into the right school. All that belonged to some far-off someday, though. At the moment, she needed to worry about breaking the news to her friends.

One thing about snowshoeing, she discovered. It was hard work. Halfway up the trail, she stripped off her parka and tied it around her waist. Then off came her muffler and hat, which she stowed in her backpack. She might have attributed this to a hormone surge, which her pregnancy books talked about, but then she noticed that Zach and Sonnet were trudging along, too, bathed in sweat.

When they reached a footbridge spanning the waterfall at midpoint, she called for a water break. “I have to get some pictures, too,” she added. Last summer, the waterfall had been a raging torrent bursting from its hidden source high above and then hurling itself onto the tumbled rocks far below. Winter had frozen the cascade into blue-green ice that striped the hillside like tall, delicate pillars. Icicles bearded the fringes of the cataract. In the middle, a tall column of ice plunged like a dagger into the frozen pool at the base.

Daisy found amazing angles to photograph. She lay flat on her back to frame the bridge, an old concrete structure with two tall arches spanning the deep chasm below.

“There are rumors that it’s called Suicide Bridge,” Sonnet said. “I’ve heard two tragic lovers jumped off it and killed themselves.”

“Yeah, and you can hear their ghosts wailing on windy nights,” Zach added.

Sonnet sniffed defensively. “This is Washington Irving territory. Ghost stories come with the landscape.”

Daisy took a picture of her friend, whose expression was both annoyed and cute.

As though she felt the attention, Sonnet turned to her. “Hey, what would you say to taking my senior photo? You know, for the yearbook?”

Daisy was surprised and flattered. “Sure, why not?”

“I’d pay you, of course,” Sonnet offered.

Sonnet and her mom had to pinch every penny, saving for college. “I wouldn’t charge you anything,” she said, experimentally framing Sonnet in her viewfinder.

“I would insist on it.” Sonnet’s sense of fairness rose up. “Dale Shirley charges, like, three hundred dollars. I’d have to save up for weeks to afford him.”

Shirley was a busy local photographer whose work adorned the Chamber of Commerce brochures, the annual Christmas calendar they gave away at City Hall and of course, the Avalon High School yearbook. Daisy thought it sounded like a dream job, getting paid to take pictures.

“He can charge because he’s got all these credentials and his own studio and stuff,” she said.

“Nah,” Zach said, “it’s because he’s been around forever. I don’t want to use him, either, but my dad will probably make me.”

Zach’s dad was all concerned with looking good for his run for mayor.

“Not if I take a better shot,” Daisy said, and snapped a candid picture of Zach as he contemplated his father. Zach was totally made for the snow, the way a wolf was. His blond hair, smooth clear skin and strangely light blue eyes made him look wild and unearthly.

Sonnet peered over her shoulder, reviewing the shot. “Crazy,” she said. “You’re like the Aryan nation poster boy.”

He tossed a handful of snow at her. It burst into a cloud as it hit her shoulder. “Shut up,”

he said.

“You shut up.”

Daisy turned the camera on them both. Sonnet was a willing subject, mimicking a model’s poses. She braced her hands behind her and tilted back her head. Her riotously curly hair escaped the knitted hat, and Daisy had captured the moment, knowing instantly that it was a good shot. Sonnet was not high-school pretty, and she hated her looks, but that was nuts, Daisy knew. Sonnet was gorgeous in ways beyond the grasp of high school boys. She had creamy café au lait skin and long tumbles of tight, inky curls. Her wide mouth and tilted, almond shaped eyes gave her an air of mystery—until she smiled, and then she was as open and friendly as a puppy.

Sonnet let Daisy take as many shots as she wanted. Patient and helpful, she was a good sport about it. Another thing about her—sportsmanship. She had a great attitude about everything. And the funny thing was, of all the kids Daisy knew, Sonnet Romano had the most strikes against her, the most reasons to cop an attitude or fail in school or be a slacker. She was born to an unwed teenage mother, she was biracial, she and her mom barely made ends meet.

Yet despite having the deck stacked against her, Sonnet was a straight-A student who was a year ahead in school. She was a national merit scholar, a talented musician and a kindergarten tutor. She had been accepted by early decision to college, and was awaiting news of a financial package. She was, as far as Daisy could tell, everyone’s dream kid, the sort of trophy child parents could brag about, patting themselves on the back as they took credit for how good she was.

Sonnet was the kind of daughter Daisy’s mom wished she had. Instead, Daisy’s mom got a daughter who didn’t give a shit about school or college, who partied herself into oblivion and got pregnant by a boy she didn’t even like.

“Enough already,” Zach said as Daisy took another series of shots. “You’re going to break the camera.”

Daisy took a picture of his taunting face.

“See those ledges up there?” Sonnet pointed to the overhanging cliffs. “My uncles told me they’re ice caves.” Sonnet had, like, six uncles, who resembled the cast of the Sopranos. “Caves in the hillside that are lined with ice. I read about them in the library archives for a history project last year. Some of the cliffs in the area have these caves with ice so thick it never melts, even in summer. It’s one reason they named the town Avalon.”

Daisy tilted her head to one side. “Okay, you lost me.”

“From the legend of King Arthur,” Zach said. “Merlin’s Crystal Cave. Avalon was the place the High King went after he was mortally wounded in his last battle.”

“I must have missed the memo,” Daisy said. “I don’t know why you guys put up with me.

I’m a dunce.” Which was ironic, she thought. She had attended the most competitive, most exclusive school in Manhattan. These two kids went to a run-of-the-mill public school. Yet they both seemed so much smarter than her.

“You’re not a dunce,” Sonnet said.

“You have no idea,” Daisy said, bracing herself. It was time. She had to get it over with.

Right here, right now. “I need to tell you guys something,” she said in a rush, letting the words escape before she could chicken out.

They must have sensed the urgency in her tone, because they both gave her their full attention. She hesitated, the way she’d done when she’d told her dad, trying to memorize the way they were looking at her now. She was about to change their perception for good.

“It’s, um, it’s kind of a big deal.” She carefully lowered her camera, felt the weight of it tugging at the back of her neck. “I’m going to have a baby. It’s due in the summer.”

The words fell into a silence so complete, it was like a vacuum had sucked them out of the air. Daisy looked at them, her only friends in this town, and held her breath. She refused to breathe until they spoke, reassuring her that they wouldn’t stop being her friend. For a moment, they just stared at her. Then a red flush crept into Zach’s face and he looked supremely uncomfortable, the way Max had when she’d told him. Sonnet’s eyebrows went up, and then down. “Hey, that is a big deal.”

Daisy nodded. “It’s not the smartest thing I’ve ever done, but it’s done. I was going to, you know, terminate it, but at the last minute I couldn’t. So here I am.”

Zach seemed to find something endlessly fascinating in the hollow of a tree by the bridge.

He clearly didn’t want to participate in this conversation.

Finally Sonnet spoke up, sounding a little flustered. “Wow. I mean, wow. That’s unexpected.”

“No shit,” Daisy said.

“Is this why you left your old school?” Sonnet asked.

Daisy shook her head. “I didn’t know. I mean, I wasn’t sure.”

“Is the baby’s father going to help you out?” A peculiar tension threaded itself through Sonnet’s voice. Daisy knew that Sonnet’s relationship with her father was a difficult one, fraught with secrecy due to his position in the Pentagon.

“I haven’t told him. I haven’t even decided whether or not I will. He won’t be happy, I can tell you that.”

“He should have thought of that when he—when the two of you—”

“True,” Daisy agreed. “We both should have thought of that.”

Sonnet put a mittened hand on Daisy’s shoulder. “You’ll be all right,” she said.

Daisy smiled at her. “That’s the plan. So anyway,” she said brightly, “I got through the ordeal of telling my parents, and…we’ll deal.” She had to believe that, had to believe having a baby was not like falling into an abyss.

The three of them were silent for a while, and Daisy felt a measure of relief. That wasn’t so hard. She figured there would be a period of adjustment, and then they’d go back to the way things were. For a while, at least. After the baby came, she had no idea what would become of their friendship. Zach hadn’t said a word, but she could tell he was embarrassed. His cheeks and ears were red—and not just from the cold—and he averted his eyes. Sonnet seemed to sense the need to move on. She shaded her eyes and studied the cliffs. “My uncles say you really have to look in order to find the caves. And you have to watch for avalanches.”

“My dad told me it’s a complete waste of time,” Zach added. “He said it’s not even worth the trip.”

“Since when do you listen to your dad?” Sonnet asked.

Daisy regarded the hanging cliffs, their silhouettes carving mysterious shapes on the untouched snow. “Let’s go check it out,” she suggested.

“Are you serious?” Zach looked apprehensive.

“She’s right.” Sonnet got up and tapped her snowshoes together. “Look at that blue sky.

We should at least go to the top of the mountain, right?”

“Agreed.” Zach stood. “No point in getting this close and then not going all the way.” He shrugged into his day pack and led the way up the trail.

“We’re like the first pioneers,” Daisy said. “The first to find the mountaintop.”

“I doubt that,” Zach said.

“Me, too,” Sonnet agreed. “My uncle Sal told me they found Indian artifacts in some of the caves, and stuff from pioneers, too. Before refrigeration, the caves were used for food storage.”

“Nature’s deep freeze,” Zach said. “Seems like a long hike to get there.”

The path became steeper, the snow forming deep-rimmed bowls around the bases of the trees. Daisy felt a little breathless and wondered if that was just her, or the pregnancy. Her doctor had said she could and should keep up with her usual activities, although she shouldn’t do any extreme sports. Was this extreme, hiking up a mountain? No. Rockclimbing, like she’d done last summer with Julian Gastineaux, a.k.a. the most amazing boy on the planet, was extreme because it involved scary harnesses and sheer rock faces and risky Spiderman maneuvers.

Compared to that, hiking was almost, literally, a walk in the park.

Sonnet reached the summit first, turned and waved at them. “Okay, so we’re not first.”

She indicated a decidedly man-made structure—a fake totem pole with a plaque that said,

“Meerskill Mountain. Elevation 4016 feet.”

Sets of initials and words, dating back to 1976, had been gouged into the totem pole. A whole history of area kids, rendered meaningless by the passage of time.

“Look,” Sonnet pointed out. “‘Matt was here.’ Maybe that’s your dad—Matthew Alger.”

Zach shrugged. “Could’ve been. He used to work at the camp when he was in college.”

“My dad, too,” Daisy said. “It was a family tradition for all the Bellamys, until the camp closed ten years ago.” Daisy was glad Olivia had moved up from the city last summer. Daisy had spent last summer at the camp with her dad and brother, helping to get the place ready for her grandparents’ fiftieth anniversary celebration. Her mom hadn’t come; she’d only dropped by the camp to deliver divorce papers and to pay her respects at the Bellamys’ anniversary. Daisy wondered if the four of them had stuck together in the wilderness, would they have figured out a way to stay together for good?

One good thing had happened last summer—they’d met Jenny. Uncle Phil’s illegitimate daughter.

Illegitimate. Daisy stuffed her hands in her pockets and angled them across her lower belly like a shield. She hated that word, illegitimate. Like the baby had done something wrong.

Sonnet snowshoed to the edge of the hill where the snow was thick and deep. “This is where the avalanche came down. Let’s find those caves before it gets dark.”

They each had a set of ski poles, which they used to sink into the snow to make sure there was solid ground before they stepped. Zach found a granite wall rising up, its face striated and gouged by indentations.

“I’m going to check them out,” Sonnet said, reaching down to unfasten her snowshoes.

“No way,” Zach said. “You’re not climbing this rock.”

“Watch me.”

She was good, Daisy recognized, watching Sonnet. Having done a little rock-climbing in the past, she recognized a good technique when she saw it. However, Sonnet had zero safety gear.

“Hey, don’t climb any higher than you’re willing to fall,” she cautioned.

“Just fall on your ass,” Zach said. “That way, you’ve got a big cushion.”

“Ha ha,” Sonnet said, breath puffing from her in a cloud.

“A gi-normous cushion.”

Daisy elbowed him. Then she took some pictures of Sonnet’s progress.

Sonnet came to a shadowy spot in the rock face. “Well,” she said, “it’s a cave, but there’s no ice in it.” To illustrate, she dropped a handful of stone and dust which littered the snow like a stain. She found a couple more from her perch on a rock ledge, but they were just hollows and indentations in the rock. Each one was empty, except there was a bird’s nest in one of them.