Under Cover (9 page)

“I told you. Get a DNA test.” He gave the
lemon another squeeze. “Do you think you’ll want dessert?”

“I think I’m going to be stuffed. You still
didn’t tell me what inspired this. Is it because—” I couldn’t say
because you’ve been ignoring me. “Because you aced all your
exams?”

“I will, I’m not worried. No big deal.”

“I admire your confidence, but you still
didn’t tell me what we’re celebrating. Or are we?”

I got a sudden cold feeling. Maybe this was a
break-up date. We could be celebrating Ben’s freedom from me. I
looked up and met his chocolate eyes. It made me look away again
quickly. What if he read my thoughts? What if I was right?

“I’ll tell you later,” he said.

I got even colder. “Tell me now and get it
over with.”

“Don’t sound so grim. How about your
birthday? Don’t you have a birthday coming up?”

“Not till the end of the month. I’m a crab.”
Did he really remember my birthday? Was that what this was about?
The coldness didn’t go away.

“Later,” he said. “I have reasons.”

He would dump me later. He’d let me finish my
shrimp scampi first. How considerate of him.

He really was. Or tried to be. Not like Troy
Zoller, who couldn’t wait till after the Harvest Moon Dance to dump
me. That was because he wanted to take Stacie Marr, not me.

Would Ben do that? Never. He would dump me
the nicest way possible. Maybe not even for somebody else, but just
because he was going away.

“Ben, you’re really sweet.” I meant it. I ran
around the table and kissed him. It didn’t matter if there were
other people watching.

Some of the people applauded. I sat down
again, embarrassed. I hoped I hadn’t embarrassed Ben.

Since we weren’t having dessert, he called it
a night. He had an early start the next day at Frosty Dan. All the
way home I dreaded what was coming. His consideration made it even
worse. He was such a sweet guy, and I loved him.

When we got to my house, he walked me to the
front door, stopped, and held me there.

Grandma had left the outside light on. Ben
looked up at it and pulled me into the shadows.

His lips came down on mine. I snuggled close
to him. His fingers worked into my shoulders, then down to my
waist. He pulled me still closer, if I could get any closer.

Definitely a break-up. I nestled into him. He
pulled me so close that we both sat down on the steps.

He said, “We got our class rings today.”

“You did?” Because he was graduating. And
leaving.

He reached into his pocket and took out a
small blue box.

The ring sat on cotton. I’d never seen a
Southbridge High class ring. It was dark gold with a rectangular
stone of black onyx. Something was in the stone. As I tried to see
it, Ben took it out of the box and handed it to me.

“It’s our tiger!” I said. “A little bitty
tiger.” That was our school symbol. I touched it and discovered the
tiger’s outline, in gold, was slightly raised.

“It’s embossed,” I said.

“Yeah.”

“Very classy.” I tried to give it back to
him.

He closed my hand around it. “It’s yours.”
Then he added, “If you want it.”

He seemed embarrassed. He’d probably never
given a girl his ring before. I hoped not.

“Oh, Ben. I don’t know what to say.”

Not a break-up. It wasn’t that at all.

“Do you want it?”

Precious Ben. He was so socially awkward, he
couldn’t be sure he was doing this right. Or that I would accept
it.

“I do! Oh, Ben.”

“If it doesn’t fit, you can wear it on a
string around your neck. That’s what some people do.”

“I want it
on
me.” I tried every
finger and found it worked best on the middle finger of my right
hand. “I’ll get a guard ring to be sure it doesn’t fall off. Oh,
Ben.”

“You said that already, about ‘Oh, Ben.’”

“That’s how I feel. I love you, Ben.” Never
minding the light, we did another kiss.

The night was perfect. Soft and mild. It was
dark, with no moon, which I supposed hadn’t risen yet. The moon had
such an erratic schedule, I never could keep track of it.

“I wish you weren’t leaving,” I said.

“I’m not yet. Not for a couple of
months.”

“That’s only two!”

“Yeah, that’s what a couple usually is.”

“It’s going to be—what will I do without
you?”

“You’ll study hard and get into a college
near me.”

“And I’ll have this.” I pressed the ring to
my cheek and felt a very slight sharpness where the tiger’s outline
was. Not sharp enough to hurt, only to feel. I wondered why they
made it that way. Even so, I loved it. Ben gave me the box to keep
it in until I could get a guard ring.

He made sure I was safe inside the house
before he went to his truck. I watched him drive away and then I
locked up. Both Mom and Grandma were upstairs. Neither came to
bother me as I stood looking out at the night that was so
perfect.

Chapter
Nine

Even after I went to bed, I couldn’t sleep. I
was too excited. Ben loved me. With the ring, we were almost sort
of like engaged. How could I
not
be excited?

Eventually I did drift off, and then I slept
late. It was Saturday. Sleeping was the only good thing about not
having a job. I might as well take advantage of it.

One more year of high school. A year without
Ben. I couldn’t stand it. I knew I would never get into MIT but
there were other colleges in the Boston area. I would apply to all
of them. Then at least I’d be near him. He said he wanted me near.
And I had his ring.

I got up to take another look at it. I’d left
the box on my dresser, but now I put it in a drawer to keep it
safe. I’d buy a guard ring as soon as I could get to the jewelry
store on Monday.

Without Maddie. Even though she was his
sister, this was strictly between Ben and me.

After a late breakfast I took Jasper for a
walk. We were almost back home when a strange gray car pulled into
our driveway. Jasper barked at it.

Mei was in the passenger seat. I couldn’t see
the driver, but I knew.

Mei got out and I waved to her. My dad got
out on the other side. I ran to him. “Dad! You’re here!”

His eyebrows went up. “You didn’t expect
me?”

“I did! But then you—I went over to see you
at the Mulvaneys’ house.”

“I heard.”

Mei chimed in. “We had ice keem.”

Dad grinned at her fondly.

He reached into the back seat and brought out
a camera case. It was a big, professional-looking one with a strap
that went over his shoulder. “Where’s your mother?”

“She’s at work,” I said.

“On a weekend?”

“It’s their busiest time.”

“Hmm.” He seemed disappointed. If he wanted
to see her, he could have stayed at our house.

Grandma came out, hugged and kissed Dad,
hugged and kissed Mei, and invited everyone inside. In just a few
minutes she had whipped up a pitcher of iced tea and produced a
plate of molasses cookies. I didn’t know we had cookies. Where did
she keep them?

Dad stood looking out the front window. “What
time does she come home?”

“Whenever,” I said. “Usually around eight or
nine.”

“People look at houses that late?”

“For some people, it’s the only time they
have.”

He peered down the street. “Does Olive Hurlow
still live over there?”

Olive’s house was where I used to babysit.
“How do you know Olive Hurlow?” I asked.

“I helped her get that house.”

“You—helped—”

“I helped her
find
it. I didn’t pay
for it.”

I had no idea he knew Olive.

“Why don’t you go over and say hello?” I
said.

“Maybe sometime. I was hoping to see
Peggy.”

That was Mom. I apologized for her not being
there, even though it wasn’t my fault. He sat down on the sofa next
to Mei and ate a cookie.

I asked, “How come you’re staying with Mrs.
Mulvaney? Why not with us? Then you could see Mom.”

“Got some business over there.” He drained
his glass. Grandma refilled it. I had my suspicions about what sort
of business, but I knew it was useless to ask. I couldn’t get over
my weird feeling that it might have something to do with that kid
who was murdered. The pieces seemed to fit.

When the cookies were gone, Dad unpacked his
camera. He made us go outside and arrange ourselves on the front
steps with Grandma in the middle. I held Jasper in my arms.

He took photo after photo, with and without
Jasper. With and without Mei. Sometimes without Grandma, sometimes
only Mei or me. He had us stand in front of Mom’s flower garden
with Riverview Boulevard in the background. I noticed he positioned
us so he got in Olive Hurlow’s shabby white house.

With Dad taking pictures, I couldn’t get
close to him and talk. My chance finally came when he had to stop
and change his film. He actually used
film.
It wasn’t a
digital camera.

He took it inside to keep out as much light
as possible. I followed him in and sat on the arm of the sofa.

“So who are those people where you’re
staying?” I asked. “Are they any sort of relatives?”

He turned a knob, pulling in the new film.
“Relatives? Of mine?”

“Well, mine, too. If they are, I’d like to
meet them.”

He said, “What’s around in back there? It’s a
hill, if I remember. Is that right? Probably too steep for
pictures. What do you think? You’d roll right down.”

“What I’m thinking,” I said, “is I’m
wondering why you don’t answer my question. This is such a weird
family. Nobody answers anything I ask.”

“Who doesn’t?”

“You don’t. Grandma doesn’t. Mom doesn’t and
she’s not even here most of the time.”

He finished adjusting his film and closed the
camera. We went outside again and he took us around to the
back.

He was right about the hill. It sloped down
toward the lower village. It was the same slope the long steps were
on, all part of a valley carved eons ago by the Hudson River.

Dad arranged us facing the river with our
backs to the house. He had to be careful placing himself because
the hill really was steep, so steep the camera had to look up at
us. He said it was artistic.

Then it was our turn to pose on the slope
with our backs to the river. That didn’t work so well because the
sun made a bright glare on the water. He said it was atmospheric.
Even after he finished taking pictures, and stored his camera in a
corner of the sofa, he managed to avoid answering my questions.

I tried. “Dad, could we talk just a little
bit?”

“Sure.” He turned to me with a smile. “Tell
me about school. You must be in high school, am I right?”

“More than right,” I said. “I’m a junior.
Next year I’ll be graduating and—” I couldn’t tell him I was going
to MIT, because I wasn’t, “—and maybe I’ll get married.”

“Good, good. What kind of dog is that?”

“He’s a Brussels griffon.” As if that would
mean anything to him. Dad was really good at evading my
questions.

He hung around for a long time, probably
hoping Mom would show up. I knew he wasn’t doing it for me, and I
couldn’t persuade him that she wasn’t likely to show until late in
the evening. Meanwhile, Grandma whipped up a lunch of macaroni
salad.

It was past six when Dad finally left, saying
he had a dinner engagement. After we’d done our goodbye thing, I
noticed his camera still on the sofa. How could he forget his
precious camera? Maybe he did it on purpose as an excuse to come
back when Mom was there.

I didn’t want Grandma getting any ideas about
returning it. I had ideas of my own. Before she came in from waving
off our guests, I put a pillow over it.

She didn’t notice. Her mind was elsewhere.
“You see? Now you can’t say he’s ignoring you.”

“He came to see Mom. I just happened to be
here.”

“So did I,” she said. “Do you hear me
complaining?”

“But he’s my
dad.
He took off right
after I was born. Some dads like to stick around. Get to know their
kids. Watch them grow up. Do the things a dad is supposed to
do.”

“Some dads are afraid of babies.”

“I’m not a baby now and he still doesn’t want
anything to do with me.”

“Some dads are afraid of teenage daughters.
They don’t know how to relate.”

Stacie’s dad had his own way of relating. If
it came to that, I would rather be ignored.

Grandma started clearing away the refreshment
things. I was going to help her, but first I grabbed the camera and
took it upstairs to my room.

* * * *

The next morning Grandma let me take her car
again. All I had to do was get it back by three o’clock for her
bingo game. Feeling bashful and unsure, I set off for Hudson
Hills.

Why should I feel bashful? He was my
father.

Or maybe he really wasn’t. That was hardly
the first time I’d had such thoughts. It might explain why he
seemed so awkward around me

If he wasn’t my dad, why couldn’t they just
say so? I was old enough to deal with it.

The Mulvaneys’ driveway was empty. They might
have been at church. I didn’t want to park there and be in the
way.

Someone must have been home. The front door
was open. Through the screen I could see into a hallway. Again I
parked on the street, then went back and rang the doorbell.

I expected Mrs. Mulvaney. Or Mei. I was
startled when a guy about my own age answered the door.

He was tall and wiry and sported a white tee
that was probably an undershirt, and jeans with holes at the knees.
Wavy brown hair grew over his ears, and brown-green eyes glowered
at me.

This was unexpected. I gaped and tried to
collect my wits. “Are you Liam?”