No Such Person (21 page)

MONDAY MORNING

Miranda and her parents wait two hours for Lander to be processed out.

They're whiny about the delay and the officer at the front desk gets testy.

Miranda keeps thinking about Geoffrey. She never has properly thanked him, let alone admitted that she sees him so differently now. But how could she admit it? She can hardly say
I thought you were just a big lug without a brain.

When the Allerdons get home, Geoffrey will eventually come over to swim off their dock. She will try to act normal and join him and then…then what?

Her parents call Grandma while they wait, telling her that Lander is innocent, will be coming home today, does not need an attorney. Thank you, thank you, thank you, but they will not need Grandma's house and money after all.

Grandma is a little deaf and shouts so loudly into her phone that Miranda hears her easily. Grandma's voice always makes her happy. “I don't care about the money!” yells Grandma. “You bring her to see me so I can tell for myself that she's all right.”

Miranda's eyes blur with tears. I need to call Geoffrey, she thinks. Right now.

Miranda is not fond of phone calls. Texting is more fun; easier; less emotional.

She thinks of Geoffrey on Saturday and Sunday, walking back and forth so many times at the cottage. He wasn't just going home for lunch. He was checking on her, ready to be a big brother for her.

She is brave, but not brave enough to admit that she likes Geoffrey. And perhaps not as a big brother.

She composes a text:
thank you Geoffrey for saving my life.

Seriously? She's going to thank him electronically? He's not even worth a few commas? Miranda gets a grip, deletes the unsent text and calls him.

“I'm so glad to hear from you!” says Geoffrey. “Are you okay? Is Lander okay? How are your parents doing? Are you coming back to the cottage or is it ruined for you? Is it true that you might sell it?”

And they are talking. Really talking, the way they never have. She fits in a thank-you, and then fits in another. It's like with Grandma, she realizes. You can never say enough thanks enough times, but the person who rescues you just wants to know if you're all right. “We'll probably drive to the cottage once they let Lander out,” Miranda tells Geoffrey. “If we do, come on over. Maybe we can go out in the Zodiac for a while.”

“I think you'll just want to be with Lander.”

“Historically,” says Miranda, “Lander's interest in me dwindles pretty fast.”

It is lunchtime before Lander is out. At last, the whole family is in a parking lot without a single policeman. It is hard to get in the car because it is hard to stop hugging, and it is hard to snap seat belts because it is hard to be separated. Miranda's hand throbs, but she cannot take more pain meds if she wants to stay awake.

Lander looks awful. She is thin and gray and unclean. But she is the most beautiful thing they have ever seen. They pat her constantly, to reassure themselves that she's really back with them.

Lander looks cornered, even when she is safe in the backseat of their father's car. Whatever happened in that jail; whatever Lander saw when she was with Jason; whatever Lander saw inside herself—perhaps these things are too terrible to say out loud. Because Lander sidesteps all questions.

“I'm starving to death,” Lander says instead. “I didn't eat a thing the whole time.”

“Neither did we,” says Miranda. “I'm totally starving.”

Suddenly, the day feels kind of normal, which is amazing, considering they just experienced the most abnormal weekend in suburban America.

“Let's go to McDonald's!” cries Lander.

They stare at her. Lander is opposed to salt, grease and fast food.

Maybe it's all she can come up with, thinks Miranda. Maybe she's desperate for us to stop asking questions. She wants us to chew french fries instead. “I love McDonald's,” says Miranda, supporting her sister.

Lander takes Miranda's hand, carefully checking to be sure it's the unhurt one. Tears leak out of Lander's eyes. “Oh, Rimmie, thank you. Thank you for everything.”

“Miranda,” she corrects automatically. She is thinking that Lander looks weak. Not weak from failure to eat. Weak from jail, horror, shame, fear.

She wonders how
she
would have done behind bars.

“Seriously? McDonald's?” asks their father, taking the turnpike exit that will lead them to the nearest one. “Plenty of real restaurants.”

“I don't want to get out of the car,” says Lander. “I don't want to face people. I don't even want to face myself yet.”

Their parents exchange frightened looks.

“Until I've showered and fixed my hair,” says Lander quickly. Their parents are pacified by this answer, but Miranda suspects that hair has little to do with it.

Bags of food and cardboard trays of drinks are passed into the car. Their father does not park but meanders along pretty shoreline roads rimmed with old stone walls, and they catch glimpses of the lighthouse. Lander is right. Hot food helps a lot. And Miranda loves everything salty.

Lander takes a deep breath. “I'm not going to medical school after all. You've spent too much money on me. I didn't understand how much. Or I understood and didn't care. You can't rack up more debt. I refuse to let you sell the cottage. I'm going to live at home for a few years. Earn money. Pay back everything. And besides, I need the time to think. I'm not who I thought I was.”

There is a pause in which they consider the joy of keeping the cottage.

But Stu Crowder has done a vicious thing to the Allerdons and Miranda is not going to let him win. And Lander is a pretty quick thinker. She doesn't need two years to sort out her thoughts. Probably two afternoons will suffice.

“Oh, stop blubbering, Lander,” says Miranda. “Of course you're going to medical school. You think we went through all this so you could run a donut franchise?”

“But what about
your
college costs? There's no money
now,
let alone after I've been in medical school. You saved me, Rimmie. How else do I repay you?”

Miranda does not believe that she can be repaid for what she has been through. Suffering isn't about payment anyway. You do what you have to do for your family.

“The medical school will probably agree to postpone my enrollment,” Lander continues. “Meanwhile, we hang on to the cottage and I pay you back for my college bills.”

It sounds good now, when Lander hasn't even showered jail off her body. But tomorrow? Next week? In fact, Lander's ordeal lasted only from Friday noon to Monday noon. Will Lander still feel like sacrificing a month from now? Miranda has her doubts.

But this decision is not in Miranda's hands.

She stares at the hand with the bandage. She, and not Lander, will carry the scar of this nightmare. It's a very small scar, when she considers how this could have ended.

Thank you, God.

When she can draw a steady breath, she says, “Let's drive on home. To the cottage. We need to see our river and know that there are no sharks in the water.”

“Except there are,” says Lander shakily. “There are sharks everywhere.”

Miranda puts her arm around Lander. “And friends everywhere, too, Lanny. Except  Willow. Drop Willow. She's worthless.”

They bicker satisfyingly over the value of  Willow.

Geoffrey sends a text.
Coming?

She texts back.
Soon.

I am especially thankful to Beverly Horowitz, Rebecca Gudelis, and Elizabeth Harding for all their hard work.

To see more photographs of the cottage, the river, and tugs and barges, visit my Facebook page,
carolinebcooneybooks
.

The cottage in
No Such Person
is similar to a real house in Connecticut where for many summers I mostly sat on the porch, admired the river, and read a lot of books.