Season of Change (6 page)

“I’ll be down to drive the boat in a little while,” Grandpa was saying. “Meanwhile, do you kids want to take the kayak out? There’s an osprey nest out there by the island and babies may be in it.”

“Want to?” I said to Noah.

“Sure!”

“The lifejackets and paddles are on the sun porch,” Grandpa said. He loaded us down with them, and once Noah grabbed his wakeboard, we headed down the wooden walkway through the yard toward the dock.

“Guess what just happened?” I said. “I just found a baby fawn in the woods.” I told Noah about finding Star, and Grandpa and Grandma making me take her back.

“I wish I could’ve seen it,” Noah said. “My uncle hunts deer.”

I cringed. “Ugh, don’t even talk about it. How can it be fair? A guy with a gun against a beautiful living creature running for its life.”

“He brings us venison sometimes.”

“Ugh, stop!” I thought I was going to gag. Why was Noah saying this stuff? We were down by the water now, standing beside the bright orange two-seater kayak.

“I’m just sayin’!” Noah said, laughing. “Some people call deer rats with legs. They come in your yard and eat everything. They gobble up tulips and entire tomato plants.”

I gave Noah a smack on the arm. “Quit it, right now! I love that little fawn I found.”

“I’m just giving you a hard time,” Noah teased, laughing. “I like to see you get mad.”

“Oh, yeah?” I could feel myself blushing. “Why?”

“I don’t know. Because you get so worked up about things, that’s why.”

I suddenly felt self-conscious and didn’t know what else to say. I turned away and started putting on my life jacket.

“Hey, I’m kidding!” he said.

“Okay.” Grabbing the handles on either end of the kayak, we carried it out onto the dock, and dropped it in the water.

“Do you want front or back?” I said.

“I’ll take the back,” he said. “I’d rather steer and let you do all the paddling work, ha ha.”

“Very funny!” I said, but I grabbed one of the double-bladed paddles and lowered myself into the front seat.

Noah threw his t-shirt onto the dock, yelled “Cannonball!” and jumped over the kayak into the water, setting the kayak rocking and sending up a huge spray of water.

“Noah!” I yelled, grabbing the dock to steady the kayak.

He surfaced, laughing, and tossed the water from his hair with a jerk of his head. “Water feels great!” Then he pulled himself onto the kayak, streaming with water. He put on the other life vest, clicking the clasps shut, then pulled the paddle across his lap. “This is awesome,” he said. “Perfect day.”

“Okay, now, you have to stroke when I do otherwise our paddles will smack into each other.” I took a stroke.

Noah took one a second later and smacked right into mine. “You mean like that?”

“Noah!”

We tried again, and our paddles clashed once more. We both started laughing. Then Noah paddled all on one side, and we started going in a circle.

“Noah!” I was laughing so hard. Then, with the end of his paddle, he pushed against my shoulder and I fell right in the lake, screaming.

“Oops!”

“I can’t believe you did that!” I scrambled back up onto the kayak, while Noah laughed. My t-shirt was
sticking to me and I was relieved I had on the lifejacket to cover it up. Finally I pointed to the small uninhabited island several hundred yards out of our cove into the main channel of the lake. We started paddling out there.

The sun beat down on us, flashing reflections from the water’s smooth surface, and the prow of the kayak cut smoothly through the water. Since Noah was behind me, I couldn’t see him. I tried to crane my neck around to see if he was stroking in the right coordination with me. In the cove, the water was calm, but as soon as we got into the main channel, the water became choppier. Small wavelets slapped the side of the kayak and rowing became harder.

“So, what made Stephanie decide to leave?” Noah asked.

“She wanted to be with her mom, I guess.”

“Is she coming back?”

“Oh, I don’t think so.”

“So, it’s just you and me, then.”

Did I imagine it, or did he sound happy about that?

I
know Mama was trying to make up for saying she was going to leave, because right after the first store we shopped in, she took me to another pricier one and didn’t even make me go to the sales racks.

“These are cute shorts.” She held up a pair of light colored distressed jeans shorts. “Why don’t you try these?”

I took a white sleeveless dress with a wide black ribbon around the waist from the rack, and Mama nodded approvingly. “That would be really cute on you, sugar.”

Normally, I loved shopping. I loved touching the fabrics, looking at their bright colors, and standing in the fitting room and seeing how I looked in an outfit. Having the perfect outfit helped me feel confident in school. Anywhere. I loved the pretty shopping bags, the way the sales people neatly folded and stacked your purchases and wrapped tissue paper around them. I loved it when you could spray yourself with the sample colognes in places like Nordstrom. Mama called it “retail therapy.”

Mama had come in the fitting room with me so she could see the outfits, and stood back against the wall, so when I looked at myself I could see her face just behind mine. We looked so much alike, with our dark hair and olive skin and ski jump noses. If I wanted to know what I was going to look like in thirty years all I had to do was look at Mama.

I wanted to tell her that she didn’t have to buy me stuff. I still loved her no matter what. I wanted to tell her that I almost wished I wasn’t there to complicate her life. I wished she could just go be with Barry and not worry about me.

I stared at myself in the white dress.

“It looks darling on you, sugar.”

I turned sideways, then I fluffed the flounces on the skirt. Mama was planning on leaving tonight. Matt and I would be at the house together. Things were a little
better but, still. Maybe I could get Colleen to invite me over to her house. If she was going to Hunter’s party, I could just go with her, even if I wasn’t invited.

“What do you think, sugar? Do you like it?”

“I think I got a text,” I said. I got out my phone and, standing so Mama couldn’t see the screen, I texted Colleen.

I slipped my phone back into my purse, making sure the sound was on so I would see her answer right away.

“So?” Mama asked. “Who was it from?”

I didn’t like lying to Mama. But I hadn’t even gotten a text. And I didn’t want Mama to know I was texting Colleen or why.

“Diana,” I said.

“Oh! I didn’t know you two had gotten close.”

“Oh. Yeah, sort of.”

“Really? Well, you have had to spend a fair amount of time together. I guess it would be bad if you didn’t get along.” Mama’s phone dinged. She turned away from me to read it. And then she tapped in an answer, still turned away.

I took off the white dress and tried the shorts with
a pink tank that we had picked. My phone dinged and I grabbed it.

As I put my phone away I had a funny thought: Mama and I were standing in a dressing room together, both hiding our texts from each other. I felt kind of bad, but maybe it wasn’t so terrible. Nobody I knew had a completely honest relationship with her mother. It wouldn’t be normal.

Mama bought me the dress as well as the tank and the shorts.

“Thanks, Mama.” We walked back out into the mall, the shopping bag bumping gently against my leg.

“Oh, you’re welcome, sugar. I love buying things for you.” Mama wrapped her arm around my shoulders and squeezed, then glanced at her jeweled watch. “Well, we better head over and put our name in at the Cheesecake Factory. They always have a wait on Saturday night.”

We strolled through the mall, me swinging my shopping bag, and who should be coming out of the Apple Store but Hunter Wendell and his friend Kerry Donovan.

“Hey!” Kerry, always totally wired, stopped and did a double-take at seeing me.

“Hey!” I laughed and switched the bag from one hand to another. Both guys had been in my Biology class last year. Kerry raised his hand a lot, and asked a bunch of questions everybody knew were to try to waste time and get the teacher off-track, while Hunter hardly said anything, but always made one of the highest grades in the class. I was sure he had absolutely no clue I had a crush on him.

“Hello there, boys,” Mama said. She’d met them both at Friday night games. “Kerry and Hunter, right? What are you boys up to today?”

Kerry held up his laptop. “Had to get my laptop fixed.”

“Oh, and did you get everything taken care of?”

“Yep.”

“So, how are your summers going, boys?” Mama asked

“I’m looking for a job,” Kerry said. “It’s a drag. Most people don’t want to hire fifteen-year-olds. Except they’ll hire Hunter, he’s so responsible.” He poked Hunter, laughing. “I’m just a goof-off, nobody wants to hire me.”

“I’m lifeguarding at Running Brook pool,” Hunter said.

“Oh, great. So, how boring is that?” Mama said.

The boys laughed, and shuffled their feet around. Hunter had light brown hair and that kind of coloring
where his cheeks turned a dusky pink when he blushed.

Kerry glanced at me, kind of smiling. He thought the whole situation was funny.

“I don’t think it’s boring,” Hunter said in a serious tone. “When the little kids are in there, you’ve got to be alert.”

“Yeah, I’m teaching tumbling to little kids and I feel like if I look away for even a few seconds they’ll run off somewhere,” I said, nodding in agreement.

Kerry touched my arm. “Hey, what are you up to tonight? Hunter’s having a party.”

“Oh, really?” I pretended I didn’t know about it. My heart tripped as I looked over at Hunter.

“Yeah,” Hunter said. “Here, put your number in my phone and I can text you the address and the time and everything.” He handed me his phone, warm from his pocket.

“I’m not exactly sure what I’m doing tonight,” I told him, trying to play it cool, as I tapped in my number. Hunter Wendell, getting my number! Inviting me to his party! I handed his phone back and I got goose bumps as my fingers touched his.

“I’m afraid Stephanie can’t come,” Mama said. “I have to go out of town and she’s staying with her stepbrother. But would you boys like to join us at the
Cheesecake Factory for dinner? We were just heading that way.”

I dropped my jaw. Mama was inviting them to dinner? What in the world had gotten into her? I was mortified.

Kerry and Hunter exchanged a wide-eyed look.

“Oh,” Hunter glanced at his phone for the time. “We’ve got to get back to get ready for the party.”

“Oh, okay,” I said, relief flooding me. I wanted to hang out with Hunter, but not with Mama!

Thirty minutes later Mama and I were sitting in a booth at the Cheesecake Factory.

“Get anything you want,” Mama said. “My treat!” She squeezed my arm. “Sugar, I’m so glad things are good between us again. I can’t stand it when we argue.”

“I don’t like it either,” I agreed.

“You don’t mind that I’m going to meet Barry in Asheville tonight, do you? You understand. And you’ll be fine with Matt for one night.”

“Sure.” I gave her a little smile. She had chosen me for one day, and I was grateful for that. Now she was choosing Barry. I had made a mistake to say it, though, and I had learned better than to do it again.

After lots of discussion with the server, Mama ordered a salmon salad. The server stood in his tight white apron, his pen poised above his pad, waiting for
me to decide between the crab cake sandwich and the shrimp with angel hair. And then my phone dinged.

I peeked at it quickly.

Maybe ur plans will change and u’ll be able to make it to the party tonight.

It was from Hunter.

N
oah and I paddled toward the osprey nest, just offshore of the island. It was a manmade pole and basket, about twenty feet high, topped with a messy nest of sticks and pine boughs that the birds built. Standing on the top of the nest was the female osprey, regal and white with black wings and mask-like markings over her piercing eyes.

“Let’s get closer and see if there are babies!” I said.

“Okay.”

Our paddles were almost synchronized now, skimming
over the choppy surface of the lake, closing the distance between us and the osprey nest. The wind blew in our faces, and my shoulder muscles started to burn.

As we paddled closer, the female raised her white-tipped black wings in a threatening way and gave a haunting cry.

“Whoa, I don’t think she likes us,” Noah said.

“I just want to get close enough to see!” I gave my paddle blades three or four more good pulls.

Pretty soon we could see the dark little beaks and heads of the chicks bobbing just above the edge of the nest.

“Look! There they are!” I paddled even closer, craning my neck upwards.

The female got more and more agitated. Then, suddenly, from a tall pine on the island, in swooped the male osprey, calling loudly, his anvil-shaped wings curved as if to attack. He flew right at us, with fierce cries. Started to dive at us.

“Look out!” Noah yelled. “He’s after us!”

The bird flew in a wide circle around the nest and then soared back in our direction, angling his body in a dive. Noah and I ducked as he flew within a few feet of our heads, still screeching. He passed close enough for us to feel the swish of the wind from his powerful wings.

“Come on, paddle backward!” In a scramble, we
reversed our paddling like crazy, and got the kayak turned around heading away from the nest and back toward the side of the island. After circling the nest again, the osprey flew back to his tree, grasping a gnarled gray limb with his talons and fluffing his feathers triumphantly. The female, still at the edge of the nest, stretched her beautiful black and white wings wide and flapped them several times.

We sped for the shore of the island, then grounded the kayak and clambered off, pulling it up onto the coarse sand on the island’s shoreline.

“Whew, that bird was dive-bombing us!” Noah said, as I laid both of our paddles across the center of the kayak.

“Yeah, they’re really protective of their babies. Grandpa says the osprey mate for life, just like geese.” We took off our lifejackets, then sat on the sandy shore of the small island, letting the lake water lap at our toes and the sun beat down on our heads and sore shoulders. I started wondering why I’d worn the T-shirt. I took it off, squeezed the water out of it, and tossed it on the kayak. Then I felt immediately self-conscious about sitting there with him in my bathing suit.

“How long do osprey live?”

“I don’t know. These same birds have been building their nest here for at least the past five years, since I’ve been coming here.”

Behind us stood a cluster of pine and oak trees, some fallen. You could walk around this entire island in about five minutes. It was almost as long as a football field, but not as wide.

Noah’s hair was still slicked back from when he had jumped in the water earlier. “A bunch of guys spent the night on one of these islands once,” he said. “It was crazy.”

“Yeah?”

“Somebody brought an iPod dock and you know how music travels over the water? We were playing all this unbelievably loud music and we had a case of beer. It was wild.”

“Did anybody catch you?”

He shook his head. “We were afraid the lake patrol would come, but they never did. We lucked out.” He stretched out on the sand. “Zillions of bugs, though.”

Noah’s bare chest had a patch of golden fuzz right in the center. I hadn’t thought about us being alone on an island until just this minute. A tingle spread up the back of my neck into my hairline, and I shivered even though it was in the eighties out here.

Dr. Shrink and I had talked about a lot of situations but this was one we hadn’t talked about. Did Noah think anything about us being alone on an island?

Should I say something about it? We’d hung out tons of times, but not like this.

“My guitar’s in my car,” he said suddenly, raising up on one elbow. “I can serenade you and your grandparents when we get back.”

“Oh, cool! What songs have you learned?”

“ ‘Wish You Were Here’ by Pink Floyd.” He hummed the first four twanging notes of the opening, playing dramatic air guitar, and then sang the line about two lost souls in a fish bowl.

“Cool.” I laughed.

He dug up a handful of the reddish, coarse sand and let it sift through his fingers. “And I learned ‘Skinny Love’ by watching an online video.”

“Cool.”
Was “cool” all I could say?
What a loser. I picked up one of the tiny black closed mussel shells that were scattered around, and tossed it into the shallow water at the edge.

One shell lay open on the sand, shaped like tiny black angel wings. Noah picked it up and dropped it onto my leg.

“Hey!” I found another shell. Dropped it into his belly button.

“Whoo!” He used his thumb and index finger to flip away the shell. Then he scooped up several more shells, jumped to his feet, and tossed them at me. Then, with a laugh, he started running.

“Okay! Watch out, buddy!”

I jumped up and raced after him, up the beach
toward a place where the waves had eroded the sand. The water gently washed against a muddy cliff about two feet high, and Noah had to zigzag, splashing, through the water. I laughed as I ran, completely out of breath.

Noah clambered up the muddy cliff and ran barefoot through the small wooded area to cross to the other side of the island, yelling “Ow! Ow! Ow!” as he stepped on sticks and pine cones. Then he ran across the beach and into the water on the other side, the silvery water splashing around him. He dove and swam, then turned around and grinned, treading water.

I chased him, breathless and laughing, running out into the water, diving at him, swimming in his direction. The minute I got close, he clapped his hands on my head dunking me.

Gasping and sputtering, I surfaced and tried to dunk him, but he pulled away with one strong stroke. “Ha-ha-ha!”

“I’ll get you!”

Finally I lunged at him. I knew he was letting me catch him because I got my arms around his waist.

“Gotcha,” I said, pulling tight and hugging him, my ear against his chest.

And for an instant, there was his heartbeat, solid and steady, in my ear.

Then his hands were around my waist and our arms
were around each other. I looked up and his face was inches from mine.

I closed my eyes. Held my breath. And then, like a bolt of electricity, like a wave breaking over our heads, his lips touched mine. They weren’t soft, but firm and determined.

My heart was thundering. Blood roared inside my head. What was this? We were just friends!

I let go of him and scrambled away, pushing water between us.

“What was that?” I yelled.

He threw his arms in the air and let his palms splash on the water. “I have no clue!”

“I didn’t do it!” I said.

“Neither did I!”

We stood in the waist-deep water glaring at each other. The sun had dropped toward the horizon and the shadows of the trees on the water were long. The wind had died and small ripples surrounded us, radiating outward on the smooth water.

“That was a mistake,” I said.

“Definitely. A mistake.”

“I need to check on Star.”

On the ride back, we didn’t talk. The only sounds were the wind at our backs and the dipping of the paddles and the slap of the waves against the kayak. I kept thinking about his lips when we touched. I’d
thought lips would be soft and his weren’t. Every time I thought about it I had this squiggly feeling deep in my stomach.

Back at the dock, the two geese greeted us. The female sat on the eggs on the boat cover and the male swam nearby, honking at us as we pulled the kayak up onto the dock.

“We’re not going to hurt your wife or the eggs,” I told him. “Just chill.”

Noah and I kept our distance. We didn’t talk. Thoughts raced through my mind and I replayed that kiss, with a shiver. What had it meant? As he grabbed his wakeboard and we headed up for the house, blood kept pounding in my ears.

“So? How was the kayak ride?” Grandpa Roberts held the door open for us.

“Fine,” I mumbled.

“I have to get home,” Noah said.

“Don’t you want to wakeboard?” Grandpa asked.

“That’s okay.”

“So soon?” Grandma said from the kitchen. “I was just getting ready to invite you to dinner, Noah.”

“He’s got to go, Grandma,” I said.

“Maybe tomorrow?” Grandpa looked from one of us to the other with a puzzled expression.

“I don’t know. I better get going. Thanks anyway. Nice meeting you.”

Grandma and Grandpa chorused back with “Nice to meet you,” and “Come back.”

Noah nestled his wakeboard under his arm, and I followed him out onto the porch.

I felt short of breath. I tried not to look at his lips. “Well. Bye.”

“See ya.” He held the wakeboard over his chest like a shield. “All right, so … bye.”

He trotted across the yard, climbed into his beat-up olive green Jeep and drove away.

I stood on the porch, watching the road long after he had disappeared. So, if he hadn’t kissed me, and I hadn’t kissed him, how had we kissed?

The shadows lengthened and the setting sun drizzled liquid gold on the water. As a cooler breeze threaded through the oaks in the back yard, the father goose swam back and forth, back and forth, guarding the nest. Birds chattered in the trees before sunset.

And suddenly I remembered. Star!

I yelled to Grandma and Grandpa through the screen. “I’m going to look for Star!”

I took off running, up to the road. I hiked down until I was even with the tree with the missing bark, then plunged into the dark shadowed woods. My footsteps made faint crunching sounds as I stepped on the pine
needle ground cover, and I swiped dogwood branches, with their heart-shaped leaves, out of my way.

Noah’s face flashed before me. The sound of his heart against my ear. I relived the kiss, then was glad there was no one in the woods to see me blush. Kissing didn’t feel as innocent as I’d thought. Did I have stronger feelings for Noah than I’d admitted to before? Everything was such a surprise.

I stopped beside a bramble of underbrush and gave my head a shake, trying to refocus on Star. Was this where I had left her? I knelt and peered underneath the overhanging branches. Nothing.

I walked a large circle around the area, checking every other patch of underbrush. I wanted to talk to Stephanie about the kiss. I’d text her when I got back.

After wandering for fifteen minutes, I finally decided to give up. I would never see Star again. I should be happy for her. The fact she wasn’t here meant her mother had come to get her. She was safe. It was good news.

I wandered back to the original spot. Once again knelt and crawled back to the far corner underneath.

And there she was. Lying as still as she could be, her large eyes staring at me.

“Star! You’re still here!”

I don’t know if the emotion of the afternoon was getting to me, but tears sprang to my eyes. Her mother
hadn’t come back for her. She was probably dead. And maybe it was because of me. More than ever, I felt responsible for Star. I had to save her. I’d killed her mot her.

I reached inside the bush and gently wrapped my arms around her.

“Maa!” Her bleating was softer now. I most definitely needed to get her something to eat. I carried her back to the house. She didn’t struggle as much as before. Her skinny legs hung down, bumping against my stomach. I ran up the porch steps, calling to Grandpa.

“She was still there!”

In only a few minutes, we had her back on her towel bed on the sun porch. Grandpa sat in a lawn chair with his laptop.

“Goat’s milk. And baby bottles,” he announced within a few minutes. “They have a four-chamber stomach and they have to suck on the bottle to open the second chamber. You can’t let them lap from a dish. Unless it’s water. So we can give her water.”

I raced to the kitchen and brought back a plastic dish of water for Star. I set it down next to her.

“Where can we get goat’s milk?” I asked.

“I believe they have it in the grocery store,” said Grandma.

“Well, let me get my car keys,” Grandpa said.

I jumped to my feet.

“Are you going to leave me here with that little thing?” Grandma asked.

“We won’t be gone long, Grandma,” I said, heading for the door.

“That little thing is going to poop on my sun porch,” Grandma said, crossing her arms over her chest.

When we got back from the store, with three cartons of goat’s milk and a set of two plastic baby bottles, Grandma met us at the door.

“That little thing is very insistent,” she said. “It’s definitely hungry. It’s been crashing around bumping into the windows and making that bleating sound. It’s finally laid down.”

I began washing the baby bottles.

“Be sure to warm the milk,” said Grandpa. “And it says about four ounces every three hours. You’re going to be up all night.”

“That’s okay.” I warmed a bottle with goat’s milk in the microwave and shook it up, then headed out to the sun porch. Star was curled on her bed, but leaped to her feet bleating when she saw me.

Now, how to feed her. I knelt beside her and held the bottle up to her nose. Her nostrils flared as she sniffed and her eyes widened, but she didn’t take the nipple into her mouth. I squeezed a little milk out onto my
finger and rubbed it on her round black nose, but she tossed her head away. I tried to push the nipple into her mouth and she jerked her head.

“It says to hold the bottle high, so she has to turn her head up like she’s nursing from her mother,” Grandpa said.

I tried it. “Hmm. She’s hungry, but she won’t take the bottle.”

“It seems as though she doesn’t know what to do,” Grandpa agreed.