Mira is delighted. “More points for Des! I love secrets!” Her smile disappears as she leans close and whispers, “Is this a real one, Des?”
“Wise up, Mira,” Aidan says. “Most likely she’s going to tell us she has two baboon hearts—a spare that she carries in her purse.”
“This one’s true, Mira,” I say. “Not that the others, weren’t.”
Mira nods. “Of course.”
“Okay.” I take a deep breath. “I’ll just lay it out: I don’t know who this car belongs to. It’s not mine. I simply found it with the engine running and—”
“What?”
Seth slams on the brakes and swerves to the shoulder of the road. He and Aidan are both spouting a string of curses. Seth gets out of the car and slams the door. He walks to the front of the car, slapping his forehead, and then slams his hands down on the hood. “Are you nuts?”
“Seth!” Mira yells.
“Do you know what she’s done?” Aidan yells back.
“She’s stolen a car!”
“We’ve stolen a car!”
“We need to listen—”
“Don’t act so high and mighty! You know you suspected something before now!”
“Suspected something! Yeah! Like borrowing a car, not stealing it!”
“Our faces are probably already plastered in post offices!”
“Can we say we borrowed it?”
“We’re accessories!”
They’re all shouting over each other and not leaving me any space to explain.
“Please!”
Baaaa!
Lucky jumps up on the dash, disturbed at the commotion, and for a brief moment, they are silenced.
“Listen to me!” I yell. “Let me explain! Can’t you see? We were meant to have this car! It was there waiting for us! The door was even open! I swear!” I throw open my door and step out and find myself passionately pleading for the day. I have never passionately pleaded for anything in my life, and the more I plead, the more I am energized. It feels suspiciously and deliriously wonderful. Delirious? Is that what they think I am? Maybe so. It runs through me like a spiked fever. I talk in a loud frenzied stream so they can’t stop me. “Look at today! The four of us! Aidan and the president! Lucky in the road! The car! The money in the glove box! It’s a fair day! Our fair day! Something happened. Maybe it was Mr. Nestor. Or something in the air. Or my calendar. Or something else. I don’t know. But this day was made for us!”
Seth walks around to my side of the car, his face almost comical in its sputtering anger. He leans close. “Listen to me! Listen very carefully. There is no such thing as a fair day, Destiny! Check in to planet Earth for once in your life! We took a car! Somebody else’s car! A damn nice car!” His eyelids flutter, and he takes a deep slow breath. It makes three veins in his neck pop out. “What we did is called grand theft auto.” He points and glares at the front seat. “And now look! It even has a hole in the seat!” His hands squeeze against the sides of his head as he walks in circles. “Destruction of property! Grand theft!” His hands shoot upward. “Expulsion won’t begin to cover this! A hole in the leather seat! A gaping hole!” I notice he is beginning to sound a little delirious himself. He stops and glares at me. “How is that fair?” He shakes his head. “You are so disconnected from the real world it’s pathetic! You pretend like you’re there, but you’re really invisible. The real Des never shows her face except when she gets caught and—”
“Stop right there! Don’t you dare lecture me about connection, Seth Marshall Kaplan!” I derive great pleasure in his dropped jaw. “That’s right! I know your middle name and a hell of a lot more! I have your number, Seth. Some people are easy to figure. Aidan and Mira, they wear their neuroses all over their faces. But you took me longer to figure out, and I finally realized why.” Now he looks worried. Good. I move closer. “You’re not that different from me. You just wear a different kind of invisibility. You fly under the radar, all right. That smoothness, your easy smile. But you’re a chameleon. You’re whatever you need to be at the moment so you can fit in. At least I’m consistent!”
“It’s true, Seth,” Mira says. “You do have an easy smile.”
Aidan’s face screws up. “Neuroses?”
Seth sputters for a moment. Is it embarrassment or anger I see in his eyes? He turns away and walks back to the other side of the car. “We’re going back!” He pulls open his door.
“Stop! Wait!” Desperation pricks at my back. “Here! I have another coincidence for you!”
Aidan cuts me off. “No more coincidences!”
Seth chimes in, his voice thick with sarcasm. “Just what we need! Another story!”
“Please. Just listen.”
“Not a chance!”
“We’re out of here!”
“Stop! Both of you!” Mira says. She leans over the seat and snatches the keys from the ignition. Her voice is a growl. “I want to hear. So we are going to listen! Go, Des.”
Mira’s fierce posture catches them off guard. I make my case fast.
“On December 5, 1664, a ship sank off the coast of Wales. There were eighty-one passengers on board, but only one survived. His name was Hugh Williams. Over a hundred years later, on December 5, 1785, another ship sank in the same place. All sixty aboard drowned, except for one passenger. His name was Hugh Williams. And then on December 5, 1860, in the very same waters, another ship sank. There were no survivors except for one person.”
I don’t have to finish the last sentence of my story. I can see it on Aidan’s and Seth’s faces.
“Hugh Williams,” Seth finally says.
I nod. “That’s right. And you can’t blame it on the Law of Truly Large Numbers. The universe isn’t that old or that big! Sometimes there’s a destiny that we can’t understand. Unimaginable things happen. Far stranger things than a car being at our disposal. Nothing has changed from this morning, when you wanted to come with me, except that now I’ve been honest with you.”
Seth rolls his eyes and looks at Aidan. They both look at Mira, who is still clutching the keys in her fist. She appears to be deep in concentration. She pinches her chin. “It might be wise for us to name our children Hugh Williams, don’t you think?” She looks sideways at Aidan and winks. “All three of them.”
Aidan tries to maintain his scowl, but the magic of Mira weakens him. He grins and shrugs. “I suppose we’re already in trouble. No one’s come looking for the car yet. What can a few more hours hurt?”
Seth sighs, turns, and throws his hands up in the air, a captain facing mutiny. He whips around sharply to face me again, still breathing hard, like he has just run a marathon. He is not happy that I have exposed him. His eyes narrow. He smiles. Not a happy smile but like a cat who has cornered a mouse. “I’m the only one who can drive. So before we go anywhere, I declare a game.”
“A game?” I don’t have a good feeling about this.
“Truth or dare.”
Not good at all. “What’s the dare?”
“We drive straight to the market in Langdon and you call Hedgebrook. You tell them you took the car.”
“And kidnapped us,” Aidan slips in.
Not so bad. He’s an amateur at this, really. I lean forward, bracing myself against the car. “And the truth?”
“An easy one, that is, if you have the same guts to tell the truth as you do to steal a car.”
“I do.” I think.
“What’s the big deal about this day? October 19. What’s the secret?”
An easy one?
Hardly.
Unexplainable. Illogical. Impossible. Yes. But at the same time, real. Very real for me. A day I was rejected. Sent away. Separated. A day I should have said good-bye. A day I should have taken different steps. A day I turned seven. Not easy at all, Seth. But I must get home today. Tell them. Tell my parents. Has the courage suddenly materialized? Or the foolishness? I am not sure. But I must get home. A measure of truth could get me there.
“Tr
uth, Des.” It is like Seth can see the workings of my mind, as I search for something plausible to substitute for the truth, and he is trying to trip me up. Truth, Des. Truth. A measure.
“Today is my birthday.”
They are silent, their faces blank, like they were expecting something else.
“That would make the day special,” Mira says.
“Yes, that’s right.”
“Of course.”
There they go again. Assuming. Not a wise thing to do. There are many meanings to special, and they aren’t all good. Different. Odd. Rare. Uncommon. Peculiar. Yes, special. Like special circumstances in a crime that can up a life sentence to a death sentence. Yes, that kind of special.
“The nineteenth.”
“Oh.”
It is obvious that their minds and mouths are out of sync. Minds racing. Mouths tripping.
“You and your mom share the same birthday?” Seth’s voice has suddenly gone soft.
“That’s right.”
“Today is your birthday,” Aidan repeats like he is trying to process what that means.
Mira leans over the door and hugs me. Her eyes glisten. “Happy birthday, Des.”
31
SETH DRIVES AT A SLOW and easy pace. No one tries to fill the silence. For the moment the wrinkles between us are patted out. The universe is large. The breakable is real. Momentum is our fuel. I watch for landmarks.
He veers to the right at the fork. Just ahead, a weathered windmill stands at the far end of a field, its blades turning in the breeze. My stomach twists. A short distance farther, a neat row of mailboxes hugs the road. White, red, black, and silver. This is it.
We are coming up fast on another lane. I see it already. A street sign, shorter than I remember: RAVENWOOD. Raised metal letters that I always wanted to jump up and touch, like touching them would help me understand my place in the world, but I was too small to reach. Seth sees the sign and steers the car to the left, down a narrow lane that is crowded with golden birches on either side.
We could turn back now and life would go on as before. As it always has. Return, go back, and not move on—as I have always not moved on except to a new boarding school where no one knew me or wanted to know me. Turn back and Mr. Gardian would take care of the misdeeds of the day as he always has. And as always, Mother and Father would not be disturbed. Turn back. Because no good can come from this day. It’s not too late, Des. Turn back. But we are being swallowed up by a tunnel of golden birches and momentum that won’t let us go.
“I don’t see any addresses.”
“I don’t see any houses.”
And then, set back a hundred feet on a brick drive littered with leaves are two stone pillars, the lions still crouched and poised—landmarks that have been waiting for me. Just below them is a small, distinguished realty sign.
“Here,” I say. “Turn here.”
The large wrought-iron gate that spans the drive has been pulled back to allow access.
“Was that a for-sale sign we just passed?” Aidan asks.
“Looked like it to me,” Seth confirms.
“Your parents are moving without telling you?” Mira asks.
“I knew.”
The birches grow thinner, the lane widens. Trimmed hedges appear. Tidy flower beds. And we are still on the driveway.
“Is this the drive just to your house?” Aidan asks.
“Yes.”
The birches are finally pushed back and lawns appear. Still farther ahead, the house finally looms.
“Holy—” but Seth doesn’t finish his sentence.
“I knew you came from money—heck, we all do—but this . . .” Aidan doesn’t finish his sentence either.
The grandeur that cut me off seems to have cut everyone else short too.
“That is some house!”
Except Mira.
“Yes, Mira, it is. Or was.”
Baaa. Baaa.
Seth reaches over and rubs Lucky’s head. “Yeah, fella, there’s plenty of snacking to be had on those lawns.”
Mira lays her hand on my shoulder. She knows I don’t like such displays. “Des, you okay?”
“Of course I am.” Now kindly remove your hand. No. Keep it there. Please keep it there.
“You’re hardly breathing,” she says. “And, look—your knuckles are white.”
I look down at my hands, balled into tight fists, and I force them to relax. I breathe as Mira instructed me. My house. I am at my house. For the first time in nine years.
32
WE FOLLOW THE ROAD around to the house. Past fountains that no longer run. Past an apple orchard. Past flower gardens long past their bloom. Past arbors, pathways, and gazebos that were once my playground. The wind whips my face, my skirt, throwing dust in my eyes, like it is telling me to go away.
Close your eyes.
Don’t look, Destiny.
Don’t look.
But I did.
I do.
I dab at my eyes, trying to rub away the grit that makes them tear. But I don’t stop looking. Because I never have. Looking forward. Looking back. Wondering how many steps, minutes, days, and breaths add up to just the right number. There has to be a way to make things right. There has to be. I won’t run away. Today they will listen to me, and I will say all the things I should have said long ago.
Seth stops off to the side of the house just before we reach the front portico and the intricately inlaid drive of slate and brick. “Still want to do this?”
Mira leans forward, her face contorted like she just received bad news. “Des, dear, I’m afraid no one is home. It looks deserted.”
“Let’s go in.”
Seth puts the car in park and turns off the engine. “What about Lucky?”
I nod toward the southern lawn. “Let him graze. The hedges will keep him in.”
“Come on, boy.” Seth picks up Lucky and carries him to the lawn that is overgrown just enough to be a little lamb’s paradise.
Aidan slams the car door behind us, and the sound echoes off the deserted landscape.
“Quiet out here, isn’t it?” Mira is obviously spooked by the loneliness.
We walk up the rest of the driveway, up the three curved steps, and I try the door. It’s unlocked. I push it open.
Seth catches up and, along with us, peers inside. For a moment, time is suspended, held back by the threshold of the massive door. I hear the heart of the house. Thump, thump, thump. It beats in my chest.
“Wow,” Mira says, breaking the spell.
“Should we knock?” Aidan asks.
I look at him sharply. “It is my house, Aidan.”
I step inside and they follow. I look up at the ceiling, the double curving staircase, and at the vase of fresh white gladiolas on the pedestal to the left. I smile. The flowers had to be the Realtor’s touch—a stab of warmth in a cold empty house. Or could it be Mother’s idea? In honor of my birthday? Is it possible? Today could be different. It could add up to everything right. I snap off one flower and tuck it behind my ear.
The living room is unchanged, except for one piece of missing furniture, the white grand piano along with its bench. Mr. Gardian saved that for me.
“Anybody home?” Mira calls sheepishly. “Mrs. Faraday?”
“Shhh,” I tell her. “Let’s go upstairs. I’ll show you my room.”
We move toward the stairs, Mira’s peep-toed platforms click, click, clicking on the marble tiles.
“Why am I not surprised to see you here, Destiny?”
Mira jumps. I turn around.
I recognize the voice before I even see him. “You know me too well, Mr. Gardian,” I answer.
He takes a few steps closer, joining us in the foyer. “I suppose after all these years I do. And this time I see you brought some partners in crime.” He sighs quite deliberately to make his point. “So, how much is this one going to cost me?”
“You mean me, don’t you?”
“Yes. You.”
/> “Probably a bundle. My parents about?”
“Destiny. Please. You know it’s not good to—”
“Never mind. Not surprised they’re gone. It’s only my birthday. Typical.”
Seth steps forward. “Sir, very sorry about the intrusion. The day just got started off on the wrong foot. Destiny’s aunt Edie had some problems with her tires—”
“Aunt Edie?” Mr. Gardian looks from Seth to me. “Destiny. She’s not back in the picture, is she?”
“Relax, Mr. Gardian. She didn’t show. I just came to give my friends the nickel tour. Can you please just give us a few minutes?” He folds his arms slowly across his chest and throws in a frown for good measure. “For old time’s sake?” I add.
His arms drop to his sides, and he finally nods. He moves awkwardly toward me and kisses the top of my head. “Happy birthday, Destiny,” he whispers. I close my eyes briefly, which allows the ache in my throat to spread to my chest. He steps back and shakes his head. “I had a little something delivered for you to Hedgebrook today. I’m sorry you weren’t there to receive it.”
“You know I don’t celebrate my birthday.”
“But I think it’s about time you did.”
“We’ll be going back soon. I’m sure Mrs. Wicket has set it aside for me.”
He smiles. “Just a few minutes now. Escrow closes today. The Realtor will be here shortly to sign the last papers.” He lowers his voice to a whisper. “And I don’t want any scenes or anything, all right?”
I whisper back to him. “My friends can still hear you, Mr. Gardian.”
“Right.”
“Nice to meet you, Mr. Gardian.” Seth reaches his hand out to shake like they are old buddies. Smooth.
“Edward. Edward Farrell,” Mr. Gardian says. “Mr. Gardian is just Destiny’s pet name for me. I’ve gotten used to it.”
“Oh. I see.” But it is clear he doesn’t see. Smooth Seth is caught off guard. I love being me sometimes. Not often. But sometimes.
Aidan and Mira say their hellos and good-byes too, and they follow me toward the stairs.
“Why do you call him Mr. Gardian when his name is Farrell?” Seth asks.