The Unforgiven (37 page)

Nina sighed and turned away from the window. She lay down on her bed, pushing her script to the floor, and looked up at the ceiling. She didn’t feel like learning lines. She didn’t care about the play. She was overcome with a combination of weariness and the jitters. Nina closed her eyes. “Life sucks,” she said.

The phone beside her bed rang. Nina picked it up.

“Nina,” said a familiar voice. “It’s Brandon, next door.”

Like she didn’t immediately recognize his voice. Nina scrambled up and sat Indian style on the bed. She was shaking all over, glad he couldn’t see her.

“Hi,” she said. “How are ya?”

“Okay. I’m fine.” He spoke in a rush, as if he wanted to be finished with an unpleasant task. “Nina, I was thinking… do you like… um… Julia Roberts?”

“Of course,” she said. “Who doesn’t like Julia Roberts?”

“Well, that new movie she’s in is downtown. You wanna go see it tonight?”

Nina couldn’t believe her ears. It was Friday. He was asking her to go to the movies on a Friday night. She wanted him to say it again. “Tonight?” she asked.

“If you’re not doin’ anything,” he said.

This was how it happened, she thought. In an instant, with one simple question, your life was utterly changed. “I’m not,” she said.

“I don’t know the time,” he said. “I have to call the theater.”

“I have a paper,” she said eagerly. “I’ll look it up.” She promised to call him back and hung up feeling numb. She had a date. A real date! With the boy she liked most in the world. This day, which had seemed so bleak, now seemed magical. Of course, she still had to ask her parents, but her mother would say yes. She had to.

The paper, she thought. I’ve got to get the paper and call him back. Nina clattered down the stairs and spotted the
Hoffman Gazette
on the coffee table. She stopped to read the caption under the photo of a familiar face on the front page and then checked the index. Her hands were still trembling as she turned to
the section that had the movie schedule. Just as she found the listings, she heard a war whoop from the kitchen. Putting down the paper, she walked over to the kitchen door.

Patrick was embracing Lindsay, a letter clutched in his hand. A torn envelope lay on the kitchen table. When he spotted Nina, he waved the letter at her.

“I got into Rutgers!” he cried. “I got accepted.”

Nina beamed at her brother. “Patrick, that is so cool.” So now it was certain. In the fall he would be going to college. Sometimes, though she hated to admit it, she thought she might miss him.

As if to remind her of how sentimental she was being, Patrick let out a loud belch.

“Patrick, ugh,” said Lindsay, grimacing.

Patrick released Lindsay and came over to Nina, lifting her briefly off her feet.

“Does Mom know?” asked Nina.

“Not yet,” said Patrick.

“They’re going to be really happy,” said Nina, hoping, selfishly, that perhaps her parents would be reconciled, however briefly, by this good news.

Patrick set Nina down and stared again at his letter. “I can’t believe it,” he said.

“I always knew you’d get in,” Nina said, although that was not entirely true. Patrick’s acceptance at college had never been a given. He wasn’t much of a student.

Patrick seemed to have a sudden realization. “I’ve got to call the brainiac!”

Nina knew who he meant. Gemma Johnstone, the smartest girl in the senior class, was Patrick’s tutor. Searching the paper for the movie times, Nina had just noticed the picture of Gemma, accepting the Delman Prize, which was given to the best scholar in the school. Gemma had gotten early admission to Princeton months ago. With Gemma’s help, Patrick had worked hard and brought up all his grades.

Lindsay knew who he meant, too. She tossed her shiny blond hair like a glimmering curtain. “She wasn’t in school today.”

“Where was she?” Nina asked.

Lindsay shrugged. “Still sick, I guess. Yesterday she had to leave early.”

Patrick had dialed the number and was leaving a message. “Gemma, it’s Patrick. I’ve got big news. Call me.”

Just then the back door opened and Marsha Avery came in, looking glummer than when she had left the house earlier.

“Hello, Mrs. Avery,” Lindsay said politely.

“Mom,” Patrick cried. “Look.” He waved the letter at her. “I got in.”

Marsha frowned, and then her face cleared. “Let me see!” she cried. She took the letter and scanned it. Her gloomy expression vanished. “Oh, Patrick, that’s wonderful, darling. Just wonderful. I’m so proud of you. I knew you could do it.” She beamed, and hugged her son. “Did you tell your father?” Marsha asked.

“He went back to the office,” said Patrick.

“You better give him a call,” said Marsha.

Patrick took the phone into the living room, with Lindsay following behind him.

Nina wanted to protest that she needed the phone to call Brandon, but she knew this was more important. Marsha began to put her painting equipment back in the closet. She unzipped the green paint-spattered sweatshirt that they all referred to as her camouflage outfit.

“How come you’re back so soon?” Nina asked.

Marsha’s expression darkened again. “I had to leave. There was a lot of commotion there. Police everywhere. TV reporters. It was a zoo.”

“Police?” Nina asked. “What were the police doing there?”

“You know that baby that was kidnapped?” said Marsha. “The Kilgore baby?”

Even Nina, who paid little attention to the news, knew what her mother was referring to. Everybody around there knew. April Kilgore, a cocktail waitress, and her baby had moved in with her new boyfriend, a guy named Travis Duffy, who had a history of child abuse from his first marriage. One night, while April was working the late shift, the baby disappeared. Duffy insisted that the child had been stolen while he was asleep on the couch. The police had been investigating it for a couple of months now. “Yeah. What about it?” Nina said.

“Someone said they found him.”

“The baby? He was in the park?”

“Well, found his remains, I should say. Apparently a dog was digging there…”

“You mean the kidnappers killed the baby?” Nina asked, confused.

“Oh no,” Marsha scoffed. “There never really was a kidnapping. Nobody believed that story for a minute. That boyfriend of hers was lying through his teeth. But they’ll get him now. Now that they’ve found the body. I blame the mother, for leaving the baby alone with him. She knew he had a violent history. What was she thinking?”

Nina didn’t really understand and, in truth, didn’t find it all that interesting. Not compared to what was on her mind. “Mom,” she said. “I have to ask you something…”

A tap on the kitchen screen door interrupted her. They both looked up.

“Excuse me. Is Patrick here?” asked the girl at the door.

“Oh hi, Gemma,” said Nina shyly. “He’s here. Come on in.”

Gemma entered the kitchen. “He called me but I didn’t get to the phone in time. I tried to call back, but…” Her large brown eyes stood out against her pale skin and her brunette hair looked greasy. She was dressed as always in baggy overalls and a shapeless T-shirt. Nina felt protective of the shy, studious girl who was often the butt of jokes.

Patrick came back into the kitchen and hung up the phone. When he spotted Gemma, he rushed over
to her and lifted her up just as he had lifted Nina.

“Gemma. Guess what?” he cried. “I got accepted at Rutgers.”

Two spots of color appeared in Gemma’s cheeks as he set her back down. “Patrick. That’s fantastic!”

“Patrick, are you ready to go?” Lindsay asked impatiently.

Patrick stretched, his shirt riding up over his taut, tanned abdomen. “I guess so.”

“Wait a minute,” said Marsha. “Where are you going?”

Patrick threw an arm around his mother and squeezed her. “We’re going to celebrate. Probably hang out at the mall. Have a bite to eat at T.G.I.F.’s.”

“Why not take Gemma with you?” said Marsha. “After all, without her help…”

“Oh no, really,” said Gemma, blushing. “Patrick did the work.”

“Besides, she’s still under the weather,” said Patrick breezily. “Look how pale she is. She’s been out of school for two days. But I am going to buy her a present.” He turned to Lindsay. “You can help me pick something out.”

“That’s not necessary,” Gemma said.

“Maybe some nice shampoo,” said Lindsay.

Gemma reached up and touched her hair self-consciously. Nina glared at Lindsay. She couldn’t think of a sufficiently acidic retort.

“Okay, we’re out of here,” said Patrick. “Come on, Gemma. We’ll drop you off.”

“If you see Jimmy…” said Marsha anxiously.

“I’m not planning on looking under any rocks,” said Patrick. Then he relented, noticing his mother’s hurt expression. “Why don’t you call Calvin’s? Maybe that little creep’s mother will know where they are.”

Marsha shook her head in disgust. “That woman is so worthless. She doesn’t care what they do.”

“Well, I’ll send him home if I see him,” said Patrick. “Gemma, are you coming?” Patrick headed out the screen door with Lindsay, Gemma trailing them.

Marsha watched them go thoughtfully. “If that girl gets any thinner she’s going to disappear,” she said.

“You know, I saw her at the park yesterday when I was painting,” said Marsha. “I wonder why she said she was sick?”

“I don’t know,” said Nina in exasperation. “But she just got the Delman Prize so I doubt she’s playing hookey or flunking out. Mom, I have to ask you something.”

Marsha glanced at her watch, and then picked up the remote. “Let’s see if the early news is on. They might have something about the Kilgore baby.” She switched on the TV in the corner above the sink and changed the channels until she found the local news. “What is it?” she said.

“Can I go to the movies tonight with Brandon…”

Her mother tore her gaze from the TV screen.
“With Brandon? Is this a date? Fourteen is a little bit young for a date.”

“It’s just the movies,” Nina cried.

“It better be. ’Cause if I find it was anything else,” Marsha warned her.

“It’s nothing else.” Nina rolled her eyes.

“The movies and then straight home. You hear me?”

“I hear you.” Nina felt a little deflated by her mother’s response. This was her very first real date. She had expected her mother to be excited. To ask her all about it, at least. But her mother’s attention was now absorbed in the TV news. She was watching it intently.

“The baby’s remains were found wrapped in a black plastic trash bag,” the reporter in the blue coat was saying on the screen. “We have reports now that the child had been suffocated, and buried in a shallow grave…”

Marsha let out a gasp of horror.

“When asked about speculation that this could be the missing Kilgore baby, a police spokesman had this to say…”

It was sad, Nina thought. But it really wasn’t her concern. She had a date tonight. A date. With Brandon Ross. She floated up the stairs to her room to call and tell him the screening times and plan her outfit.

By the time the movie was over, and Nina and Brandon had streamed out of the theater with the other moviegoers, the night sky was black and spangled
with stars. Nina wanted to grab the people who walked by her and shake them, and make them realize the improbable thing that was happening right under their noses. Nina Avery was on a date.

At least, she thought it was a date. So far, Brandon hadn’t even held her hand. When we’re walking home, she thought. That’s when he’ll do it. It will seem natural to just grab hands and walk along.

But now they were walking up Madison Street, and coming ever closer to their houses, and still he hadn’t touched her. He was talking easily to her, telling her about his plans for the summer and his ideas about high school, but he kept his hands resolutely to himself. Maybe he just wants to be friends, she thought in despair. Maybe he just needed somebody to go to the movies with him. She felt her mood sinking as their houses came into view. That was probably it. It wasn’t a date at all. Just two friends going to see a movie.

“Nina, is something wrong?” he asked.

She shook her head, and tried not to look tragic. She plastered a smile onto her face. “No, nothing,” she said. “That was fun. I’m glad we went.”

Brandon looked over toward his house. “I’d invite you over to my house, but I see my dad’s car is back and my mom went upstairs with a headache before I left. They might not want any company.”

Nina yawned, as if the very idea of spending another moment together was tiresome. “I better go in, too. I’ll see you, Brandon.”

He gazed at her with a troubled look on his face, and for one second she thought he might be going to lean toward her and kiss her, but then he backed down off the front step. “Okay, I’ll see ya,” he said.

She opened the front door, wanting to escape from his sight. It was a disaster, she thought. There was no other way to describe it. In her mind she’d rehearsed how she was going to tell her mother about it. Her mom was always interested in the details of Nina’s life. Earlier, when Nina left the house, her mother had been brooding and had hardly said good-bye. Nina knew she was distracted by her worries about Jimmy. And that fight with her dad. But by now she would be more relaxed, her cheeks flushed from the evening wine, that familiar half-smile on her face. She would be ready to listen.

Nina stepped into the front hall and was surprised to find that it was dark. Instantly, she felt alarmed, her fretting over the date forgotten. Nobody around there ever went to bed that early. Besides, her mother wouldn’t turn the light out when Nina hadn’t come home yet. And there was something else. A funny smell. Somebody had to be here. Both of her parents’ cars were in the driveway. “Mom?” she called out. “Dad?”

There was a light on in the living room. From the looks of it, it was only one light—maybe the standing lamp by the bookcase. She followed the dim arc of light and walked into the living room. It took a minute for her eyes to adjust, to register what they were seeing.
And then she let out a gasp and a strangled cry.

“Nina,” her father said.

He was crouching on the Oriental rug in front of the coffee table, looking up at her. His broad even-featured face was pale and sweaty. He was disheveled, still wearing his shirt and tie but no jacket. The front of the shirt was splotched with something dark. On the rug in front of him lay her mother, clutching the newspaper from the coffee table, as if she had pulled it down with her when she fell. Marsha’s eyes were open, and there was a look of panic frozen in them. The front of her turtleneck was ripped, and there was a huge dark splotch over her chest. Her jeans and even her white socks were speckled with dark spots. Near her head on the rug was a knife. Nina recognized it. It came from the block in the kitchen. It, too, was stained.