The Shadow Girl of Birch Grove (38 page)

Claire there, my mother didn’t have to worry that she was ignoring my father,” he

said with a sad smile. “My mother’s real passion has always been for Birch

Grove, her exceptional school for exceptional girls.”

“Mr. Mason’s passion was his wife. Losing her made him lose his mind.”

“How did you get away?”

“Knowledge is power. Even a small person can wreak havoc with a basic

understanding of chemistry,” I said and grinned. “Mr. Mason didn’t know what

happened to BB’s body.”

“My parents won’t say and may not know. The Family’s clean-up crew has

already arrived and is doing damage control.”

Clouds began to move across the sky. The sunshine hadn’t lasted long.

Jack said, “My parents want you to come up to the house and talk to them.

The Family will offer you something in exchange for your silence about Mr.

Mason. Hattie will be here at three to take you to the meeting.”

“Will you be there?”

“I wasn’t invited, but if you want me there, I will be.”

“I’d like that,” I said. “Are you
really
just friends with Hattie?”

“I’m really just friends with Hattie.” He stood up and brushed the strands

of grass off his shorts. He kissed me softly. “I’ll see you soon.”

After he left, Constance and Mary Violet joined me outside. They pulled

lawn chairs beside mine.

“I absolutely can’t stand it anymore,” Mary Violet said. “You
have
to tell

me what’s happening, or I shall perish from insatiable nosiness.”

“Mary Violet is going through gossip-withdrawal,” Constance said and

leaned over and kissed my cheek. “Everyone is asking her for details and she

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doesn’t know any, except that Jack Monroe slept with you last night, which she

has told me repeatedly. Look in the dictionary under
reiterate
and you’ll see her

picture there. ”

“I’m stunned,” Mary Violet said. “Except that Jack Monroe is a babe

magnet. I thought you were all hot for Lucky. My photo is probably crossindexed with
clueless
.”

Constance pushed her glasses up her narrow nose and said, “The Fire Chief

already made an announcement about the accident, and you don’t have to tell us

anything else. If you want to talk, though, we’re here, Jane.”

“Poor tragic Mr. Mason,” MV said. “He was never the same after his wife

died. It was as if he couldn’t leave Birch Grove because her spirit haunted him.”

“You over-dramatize things,” Constance said.

“I think MV is right,” I said. “Mr. Mason talked to me about her. We don’t

want to forget the people we love.”

Mary Violet tilted her head and said, “JW, Mrs. Monroe said it was rude to

ask, but that was before and this is now. How
did
your mother die?”

“My stepfather shot her. I don’t know why because I was only seven. He

drank and went into rages.”

“That’s horrible!” Constance said and Mary Violet said, “Oh, you poor

thing!”

“He shot me, too.”

They said, “Oh, my God!” together and then put their arms around me.

When they let me go, Mary Violet said, “Is that how you got that scar on

your shoulder?”

“Yes. I guess I didn’t hide it very well. I’ll tell you what I remember later,

but it’s not much. I don’t want pity.”

Mary Violet huffed out her pink cheeks. “Sympathy is not pity.”

Constance nodded her head. “Neither is empathy, or comfort, or

compassion.”

“Speaking of passion--” MV said.

“We weren’t,” Constance cut in.

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“How did you actually steal Jack from Hattie?”

“He says they’re friends and that’s it,” I answered.

“I thought so,” Constance said.

“I thought it first,” MV said, “so I win. My mother said I’m supposed to

cheer you up, so I’ll now recite the poem I wrote for you, ‘Ode to an Innocent.’”

“Please don’t,” Constance said and fell off her chair onto the grass as Mary

Violet stood.

“She’s going to throw her arms out now,” I said.

“I am,” she said and threw out her arms.

“Oh, sweet maiden Jane, so thoughtful and true,

Your heart as pristine as the morning dew

You journey forth to an academic activity,

Only to find paintings of graphic proclivity.

Ladies’ privates in size so crude, so vast

Vulgarity of which is unsurpassed,

What’s once seen cannot be unseen, alas,

Thus Birch Grove again sullies a blameless lass.”

HATTIE ARRIVED
arrived at the Hayers’ drive at a quarter to three. She gave

me a strong hug and said, “I’m so glad that you’re okay.”

I leaned against her as we went to her car.

On the short drive, Hattie said, “Jack told me what happened. I’m so sad

for BB. I’d really hoped that she’d escaped us and was off somewhere with

someone who loved her.”

“You think of it as escape, but she probably saw the Family and Birch

Grove as safety, security,” I said. “Last night when I was watching the Monroes

together, I thought, that’s what family is, people who support each other in

happiness and grief.”

“Jack says I’m supposed to tell you that we aren’t really dating.”

“Why do you pretend you are?”

“Because it drives Lucky crazy. Stupid, spoiled, selfish Lucky. He can go

to hell. Good luck to you with Lucky.”

“I’m not going through the Initiation, Hattie.”

She glanced at me with an amazed smile. “Really?”

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“Really.”

“Because?”

“Because you’re right and Mr. Monroe, in his own crazy way, was right.

It’s unhealthy for everyone involved.”

Hattie parked in the Monroes’ drive behind a Crown Victoria with a police

antenna and the black Mercedes, and said, “Let’s go face the firing squad.”

She helped me to the front door and she rang the doorbell.

Tobias Monroe opened the door and said, “Everyone is here. Please join

us. Hattie, you can wait in the family room.”

“I’m coming to the meeting.”

“It’s not appropriate,” he said in a tired voice.

“Mr. Monroe, you have no right to tell me what’s appropriate.” Then she

marched into the living room.

Mrs. Monroe and her sons sat on one sofa. She was as well-groomed as

ever, and if I hadn’t been looking for it, I wouldn’t have seen the sorrow in her

eyes and the tension in her jaw.

Jack smiled at us, and my heart lifted at the sight of him.

Lucky said, “Hey” to me and gave a worried look at Hattie, who took a

chair across the room.

Ian Ducharme, the Council member, wore an impeccable dark blue suit and

sat in a leather chair set back in the corner of the room. When he saw me looking

at him, he tipped his head and smiled.

Then I noticed a man and a woman in business clothes who were standing

by the fireplace.

Mr. Monroe introduced me to them, saying, “Jane, this is Detective Fox and

Officer Thurmond, from the Evergreen Police Department. They’re following up

on the accident last night.”

The woman, Detective Fox, said, “Miss Williams, we’re grateful you

weren’t hurt, and it’s quite sad that the Mr. Mason didn’t survive.”

“He was a terrific teacher,” I said.

“We have the fire chief’s initial report, and we need your statement because

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there was a death,” she said. “We know your memory may hazy. People in crises

have trouble recalling incidents.”

I knew that she was providing excuses and I said, “A cloth chart caught on

fire and set off the chemical supplies.”

Detective Fox smiled. “Thank you. I have all I need.” She looked at Mrs.

Monroe and said, “Mrs. Monroe, please give me a call if you need anything.”

“I will, Katie.”

The detective’s partner jotted something down on a notepad and Detective

Fox said, “Miss Williams, I know this is traumatic, but I’m sure you’re going to

have a very successful life. I’m a Birch Grove alumna myself.”

When she reached out to shake my hand, I saw the gold and garnet ring

shining on her finger.

After they had left, Mrs. Monroe looked at me and said, “What happened

was a dreadful shock to all of us, Jane. We never expected that Albert Mason

would try to hurt anyone.”

“You knew someone had killed Breneeta Brown,” I said.

“Breneeta went missing,” Mrs. Monroe said smoothly. “We assumed she

left the school, which was her legal right as an emancipated minor.”

“Excuse me, Mrs. Monroe, but you’re lying. You or Mr. Monroe found her

body in the amphitheatre. You made up a story to cover her absence and you’ve

been pretending that she’s been in contact with you.”

Ian Ducharme watched with interest as Mrs. Monroe’s expression froze and

her husband clutched his hands nervously.

Finally Mr. Monroe said, “I can’t deal with this anymore. Nothing’s right

since Claire…since she left. I need a drink.” He rushed out of the room while his

wife looked on with annoyance.

Then her composure returned. “Jane, I want to assure you that this incident

has nothing to do with the way we feel about you. We’re postponing the

initiation, and we’re happy to do whatever we can to reassure you.”

“I’ve decided that I don’t want to be a Companion,” I said.

“You’re in a state of shock. You need to rest. You already have the week

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off, and you and Lucky can go somewhere, anywhere. We have a ski lodge, or if

you’d like to be by the ocean… Why not see Paris, Jane?”

“A vacation won’t change my mind and I’ve got to study for my midterms.”

“Lucky,” Hattie began.

Mrs. Monroe turned her attention to my friend. “Harriet, you’re not a part

of this discussion.”

“Yes, I am,” Hattie said. “Lucky, I am giving you one last chance. Are

you going to insist on having a Companion?”

Lucky lowered his forehead like an animal threatening to charge. “It’s the

tradition and it’s my right. I already told you so in the grove that night. You can

get used to it like everyone else.”

“I’m not everyone else, Lucky.” Hattie stood and went to Lucky. “You

know that I have always loved you. I know that you have always loved me. It’s

time for you to stop being a spoiled child and be the man I know you can be,

someone I can respect.”

Lucky looked at Hattie with all the adoration that I’d once dreamed he’d

have for me.

“Let her go, Lucky,” his mother said. “You can continue the tradition and

do better than Harriet Tyler.”

That’s when Lucky stood up. “You’re crazy, Mom. There’s no one better

than Hattie. She’s smarter than me, she’s nicer than me, and she’s the most

amazing girl I’ll ever know. If she’s willing to put up with me, then I’d be an

idiot to let her go. Hattie, let’s get out of here.”

He took her hand and they left. The front door slammed on their way out.

Mrs. Monroe crossed her ankles gracefully, but her voice shook when she

spoke. “He’ll change his mind, Jane. Lucien’s always been impulsive, but he

won’t break an important custom.”

“Oh, give it up, darling,” said Ian Ducharme.

“But—”

“Do you really want to argue with me?” Even his smile looked dangerous.

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“Now, go comfort your husband so he doesn’t have to seek it in a bottle. I’d like

to talk to Jane.”

“I’m staying,” Jack said. He leaned forward as if he would jump into

action.

Mr. Ducharme gave the headmistress a look, and she got up stiffly and left

the room.

Then the Council member moved to the sofa facing me. “Well, Jane, you

hardly gave me a chance to leave before you proved me right.”

“Why did you tell them I’d be satisfactory?”

His dark eyes shone with amusement. “Curiosity. Life is change and I

suspected you’d bring that.”

“Where is Breneeta’s body?” I asked.

“The dead are gone, Jane, their ashes scattered to the wind,” he said. “Now

since young Monroe declines the privilege of a Companion, I don’t think we have

a problem. You will be compensated for your trouble. What would you like?”

I knew immediately. “I’d like you to establish a scholarship at my old

school, City Central, in honor of a friend of mine, Hosea Sabatier. It should cover

all the college texts for a student.”

“A reasonable request,” Mr. Ducharme said. “Is that all, Jane?”

“No,” Jack said. “Jane was promised a Birch Grove education, as well as

funding through graduate school, including all living expenses. Since she could

have died, she should get that in addition to the scholarship.”

Mr. Ducharme smiled at Jack and said, “You’re her advocate?”

“The halfling’s usual counsel only comes out in moonlight.”

“Ah, I thought I was the only one who noticed that in her, something not of

this world,” Mr. Ducharme said. “Yes, that would be fine. Jane, after you’ve

completed your studies, we can revisit your relationship with the Family. We are

not all as conformist as this particular branch and there’s always a place for a

trustworthy, educated ally, especially one who mysteriously survives deadly