Lock and Key (44 page)

The room was just as I’d pictured it earlier. Sofas undisturbed, counter clutter-free, the bottle cap just where it had been. The only difference was a USWIM sweatshirt hanging over the back of one of the island stools. I picked it up, putting it to my face as I breathed in the smell of chlorine, of water. Of Nate. And then, with it still lingering, I looked outside and found him.

He was standing on the balcony, hands on the rail, his back to me, even though it was cold, so cold I could feel the air seeping through the glass as I came closer. I reached for the door handle to pull it open, then stopped halfway, suddenly nervous. How do you even begin to return to someone, much less convince them to do the same for you? I had no idea. More than ever, though, right then I had to believe the answer would just come to me. So I pulled the door open.

When Nate turned around, I could tell I’d startled him. His face was surprised, only relaxing slightly when he saw it was me. By then, I’d already noticed the marks on his cheek and chin, red turning to blue. There comes a point when things are undeniable and can’t be hidden any longer. Even from yourself.

“Ruby,” he said. “What are you doing here?”

I opened my mouth to say something in response to this. Anything, just a word, even if it wasn’t the perfect one. But as nothing came, I looked at the landscape spread out behind him, wide and vast on either side. It wasn’t empty, not at all, but maybe this could inspire you as well, because right then, I knew just what to say, or at least a good place to start, even if only because it was what Cora had said to me back when all this began.

“It’s cold,” I said, holding out my hand to him. “You should come inside.”

Chapter Nineteen

Nate did come in. Getting him to come back with me, though, was harder.

In fact, we’d sat on the couch in that apartment for more than two hours, going over everything that had happened, before he finally agreed to at least talk to someone. This part, at least, I didn’t even have to think about. I’d picked up his phone and dialed a number, and by the time we got back to my house, Cora was already waiting.

They sat at the kitchen table, me hanging back against the island, as Nate told her everything. About how when he’d first moved back, living with his dad had been okay— occasionally, he had money problems and issues with creditors, but when he took out his stress on Nate it was infrequent. Since the fall, though, when Rest Assured began to struggle, things had been getting worse, culminating in the months since Christmas, when a bunch of loans had come due. Nate said he had always planned to stick it out, but after a particularly bad fight a few nights earlier—the end result of which were the bruises on his face—he’d had enough.

Cora was amazing that day. She did everything—from just listening, her face serious, to asking careful questions, to calling up her contacts at the social-services division to answer Nate’s questions about what his options were. In the end, it was she who dialed his mom in Arizona, her voice calm and professional as she explained the situation, then nodded supportively as she handed the receiver over to Nate to do the rest.

By that night, a plane ticket was booked, a temporary living arrangement set. Nate would spend the rest of the school year in Arizona, followed by working the swim-camp job in Pennsylvania he’d already set up through the summer. Come fall, he’d head off to the U, where he’d recently gotten in early admission, albeit without his scholarship due to quitting swim team midyear. Still, it was his hope that the coach might be open to letting him try for alternate, or at least participate in practices. It wasn’t exactly what he’d planned, but it was something.

Mr. Cross was not happy when he found out about all this. In fact, at first he insisted that Nate return home, threatening to get the police involved if he didn’t. It wasn’t until Cora informed him that Nate had more than enough cause to press charges against him that he acquiesced, although even then he made his displeasure known with repeated phone calls, as well as making it as difficult as he could for Nate to collect his stuff and move in with us for the few days before he left town.

I did my best to distract Nate from all this, dragging him to movies at the Vista 10 (where we got free popcorn and admission, thanks to Olivia), hanging out with Roscoe, and taking extended coffee trips to Jump Java. He didn’t go back to Perkins, as Cora had arranged for him to finish the little bit of work he had left via correspondence or online, and every afternoon as I came up the front walk, I was nervous, calling out to him the minute I stepped in the door. I finally understood what Jamie and Cora had gone through with me those first few weeks, if only from the relief I felt every time I heard his voice responding.

All the while, though, I knew he soon wouldn’t be there. But I never talked to him about this. He had enough to worry about, and what mattered most was that I was just there for him, however he needed me to be. Still, the morning of his flight, when I came downstairs to find him in the foyer, his bags at his feet, I felt that same twist in my stomach.

I wasn’t the only one upset. Cora sniffled through the entire good-bye, hugging him repeatedly, a tissue clutched in her hand. “Now, I’ll call you tonight, just to make sure you’re getting settled in,” she told him. “And don’t worry about things on this end. It’s all handled.”

“Okay,” Nate said. “Thanks again. For everything.”

“Don’t be a stranger, all right?” Jamie told him, giving him a bear hug and a back slap. “You’re family now.”

Family,
I thought as we pulled out of the driveway. The neighborhood was still asleep, houses dark as we drove out past those big stone pillars, and I remembered how I’d felt, coming in all those months ago, with everything so new and different.

“Are you nervous?” I asked Nate as we pulled out onto the main road.

“Not really,” he replied, sitting back. “It’s all kind of surreal, actually.”

“It’ll hit you eventually,” I told him. “Probably at the exact moment it’s too late to come back.”

He smiled. “But I am coming back,” he said. “I just have to survive Arizona and my mother first.”

“You think it’ll be that bad?”

“I have no idea. It isn’t like she chose for me to come there. She’s only doing this because she has to.”

I nodded, slowing for a light. “Well, you never know. She might surprise you,” I said. He did not look convinced, so I added, “Either way, don’t decide to pack it in the first night, or jump any fences. Give it a few days.”

“Right,” he said slowly, looking over at me. “Any other advice? ”

I switched lanes, merging onto the highway. It was so early, we had all the lanes to ourselves. “Well,” I said, “if there’s some annoying neighbor who tries to make nice with you, don’t be a total jerk to them.”

“Because you might need them later,” he said. “To take you out of the woods, or something.”

“Exactly.”

I felt him look at me but didn’t say anything as we came up to the airport exit. As I took it, circling around, I could see a plane overhead—just a sliver of white, heading up, up, up.

At the terminal, even at this early hour, there were a fair amount of people, heading off, arriving home. The sun was coming up now, the sky streaked with pink overhead as we unloaded his stuff, piling it on the curb beside him. “All right,” I said. “Got everything?”

“Think so,” he said. “Thanks for the ride.”

“Well, I did kind of owe you,” I said, and he smiled. “But there is one more thing, actually.”

“What’s that?”

“Even if you do make tons of new friends,” I told him, “try not to forget where you came from, okay?”

He looked down at me. “I seriously doubt that could happen.”

“You’d be surprised,” I told him. “New place, new life. It’s not hard to do.”

“I think,” he said, “that I’ll have plenty to remind me.”

I hoped this was true. Even if it wasn’t, all I could do was hand over what I could, with the hope of something in return. But of course, this was easier said than done. Ever since Christmas, I’d been trying to come up with the perfect gift for Nate, something phenomenal that might come close to all he’d given me. Once again, I thought I had nothing to offer. But then I looked down and realized I was wrong.

The clasp of my necklace was stubborn at first, and when I took the key to the yellow house off, I noticed how worn it was. Especially in comparison to the bright, shiny new one to Jamie and Cora’s, which I slid onto the chain in its place. Then I took Nate’s hand, turning it upward, and pressed them both into his palm.

“Well,” I said, “just in case.”

He nodded, wrapping his hand around the necklace, and my hand, as well. This time, I let my palm relax against his, feeling the warmth there and pressing back, before stepping in closer. Then I reached up, sliding my hand behind his neck and pulling him in for a kiss, closing that space between us once and for all.

In the weeks since, Nate and I had been in constant contact, both by phone and on
UMe.com
. My page, long inactive, was now not only up and running but full of extras, thanks to Olivia, who helped me set it up and tweaked it on a regular basis. So far, I’d only accrued a few friends—her, Nate, Gervais, as well as Jamie, who sent me more messages than anyone—although I had lots of photos, including a couple Nate had sent of him at his new job, lifeguarding at a pool near his mom’s house. He was swimming every day now, working on his times and getting back into shape; he said it was slow progress, but he was seeing improvements, bit by bit. Sometimes at night in my room when I couldn’t sleep, I imagined him in the pool, crossing its length again and again, stroke by even stroke.

In my favorite picture, though, he’s not in the water but posing in front of a lifeguard stand. He’s smiling, the sun bright behind him, and has a whistle around his neck. If you look really closely, you can see there’s another, thinner chain behind, with something else dangling from it. It was hard to make it out, exactly. But I knew what it was.

Chapter Twenty

“Ruby? You about ready?”

I turned, looking over my shoulder at Cora, who was standing in the door to the kitchen, her purse over her shoulder. “Are we leaving?” I asked.

“As soon as Jamie finds the camcorder,” she replied. “He’s determined to capture every moment of this milestone.”

“You have to document important family events!” I heard Jamie yell from somewhere behind her. “You’ll thank me later.”

Cora rolled her eyes. “Five minutes, whether he finds it or not. We don’t want to be late. Okay?”

I nodded, and she ducked back inside, the door falling shut behind her, as I turned back to the pond. I’d been spending a lot of time out there lately, ever since the day a couple of months earlier when I’d come home from work to find her and Jamie huddled over something in the foyer.

“Jamie. Put it down.”

“I’m not opening it. I’m just looking.”

“Would you stop?”

I came up right behind them. “What are you guys doing? ”

Cora jumped, startled. “Nothing,” she said. “We were just—”

“You got a letter from the U,” Jamie told me, holding up what I now saw was an envelope. “I brought it in about an hour ago. The anticipation has been
killing
us.”

“It was killing Jamie,” Cora said. “I was fine.”

I walked over to where they were standing, taking the envelope from him. After all I’d heard and read about thick and thin letters, this one was, of course, neither. Not bulky, not slim, but right in the middle.

“It only takes a page to say no,” Jamie told me as if I’d said this aloud. “It is only one word, after all.”

“Jamie, for God’s sake!” Cora swatted him. “Stop it.”

I looked at the envelope again. “I’m going to take it outside, ” I said. “If that’s okay.”

Jamie opened his mouth to protest, but Cora put her hand over it. “That’s fine,” she said. “Good luck.”

Then it was April. The grass had gone from that nubby, hard brown to a fresh green, and the trees were all budding, shedding pollen everywhere. A nice breeze was blowing as I walked out to the pond, the envelope dangling from my hand. I walked right up to the edge, where I could see my reflection, then tore it open.

I was just about to unfold the pages within when I saw something, out of the corner of my eye, moving quickly, so quickly I almost doubted it. I stepped closer, peering down into the murky depths, past the rocks and algae and budding irises, and there, sure enough, I saw a flash of white blurring past. There were others as well, gold and speckled and black, swimming low. But it was the white one, my fish, that I saw first. I took a deep breath and tore the letter open.

Dear Ms. Cooper,
it began.
We are pleased to inform you . . .

I turned around, looking back at the kitchen door where, unsurprisingly, Jamie and Cora were both standing, watching me. Jamie pushed it open, then stuck his head out. “Well?” he said.

“Good news,” I said.

“Yeah?” Beside him, Cora put her hand to her mouth, her eyes widening.

I nodded. “And the fish are back. Come see.”

Now, in mid-June, they were even more present, circling around the lilies and water grasses. Above them, in the water’s surface, I could see my reflection: my hair loose, black gown, cap in one hand. Then a breeze blew across the yard, rustling the leaves overhead and sending everything rippling. Beside me, sitting on the grass, Roscoe closed his eyes.

As always, when I saw myself, it was weird to be without my necklace. Even now, I was still very aware of its absence, the sudden empty space where for so long I’d always seen something familiar. A few days earlier, though, I’d been digging through a drawer and come across the box Nate had given me for Valentine’s Day. The next time we spoke, I mentioned this, and he told me to open it. When I did, I saw that once again he’d known what I needed, even before I did. Inside was a pair of key-shaped earrings—clearly Harriet’s work—studded with red stones. I’d been wearing them every day since.