Lock and Key(117)

In my favorite picture, though, he’s not in the water but posing in front of a lifeguard stand. He’s smiling, the sun bright behind him, and has a whistle around his neck. If you look really closely, you can see there’s another, thinner chain behind, with something else dangling from it. It was hard to make it out, exactly. But I knew what it was.





Chapter Twenty


“Ruby? You about ready?”

I turned, looking over my shoulder at Cora, who was standing in the door to the kitchen, her purse over her shoulder. “Are we leaving?” I asked.

“As soon as Jamie finds the camcorder,” she replied. “He’s determined to capture every moment of this milestone.”

“You have to document important family events!” I heard Jamie yell from somewhere behind her. “You’ll thank me later.”

Cora rolled her eyes. “Five minutes, whether he finds it or not. We don’t want to be late. Okay?”

I nodded, and she ducked back inside, the door falling shut behind her, as I turned back to the pond. I’d been spending a lot of time out there lately, ever since the day a couple of months earlier when I’d come home from work to find her and Jamie huddled over something in the foyer.

“Jamie. Put it down.”

“I’m not opening it. I’m just looking.”

“Would you stop?”

I came up right behind them. “What are you guys doing? ”

Cora jumped, startled. “Nothing,” she said. “We were just—”

“You got a letter from the U,” Jamie told me, holding up what I now saw was an envelope. “I brought it in about an hour ago. The anticipation has been killing us.”

“It was killing Jamie,” Cora said. “I was fine.”

I walked over to where they were standing, taking the envelope from him. After all I’d heard and read about thick and thin letters, this one was, of course, neither. Not bulky, not slim, but right in the middle.

“It only takes a page to say no,” Jamie told me as if I’d said this aloud. “It is only one word, after all.”

“Jamie, for God’s sake!” Cora swatted him. “Stop it.”

I looked at the envelope again. “I’m going to take it outside, ” I said. “If that’s okay.”

Jamie opened his mouth to protest, but Cora put her hand over it. “That’s fine,” she said. “Good luck.”

Then it was April. The grass had gone from that nubby, hard brown to a fresh green, and the trees were all budding, shedding pollen everywhere. A nice breeze was blowing as I walked out to the pond, the envelope dangling from my hand. I walked right up to the edge, where I could see my reflection, then tore it open.

I was just about to unfold the pages within when I saw something, out of the corner of my eye, moving quickly, so quickly I almost doubted it. I stepped closer, peering down into the murky depths, past the rocks and algae and budding irises, and there, sure enough, I saw a flash of white blurring past. There were others as well, gold and speckled and black, swimming low. But it was the white one, my fish, that I saw first. I took a deep breath and tore the letter open.

Dear Ms. Cooper, it began. We are pleased to inform you . . .

I turned around, looking back at the kitchen door where, unsurprisingly, Jamie and Cora were both standing, watching me. Jamie pushed it open, then stuck his head out. “Well?” he said.

“Good news,” I said.

“Yeah?” Beside him, Cora put her hand to her mouth, her eyes widening.

I nodded. “And the fish are back. Come see.”

Now, in mid-June, they were even more present, circling around the lilies and water grasses. Above them, in the water’s surface, I could see my reflection: my hair loose, black gown, cap in one hand. Then a breeze blew across the yard, rustling the leaves overhead and sending everything rippling. Beside me, sitting on the grass, Roscoe closed his eyes.

As always, when I saw myself, it was weird to be without my necklace. Even now, I was still very aware of its absence, the sudden empty space where for so long I’d always seen something familiar. A few days earlier, though, I’d been digging through a drawer and come across the box Nate had given me for Valentine’s Day. The next time we spoke, I mentioned this, and he told me to open it. When I did, I saw that once again he’d known what I needed, even before I did. Inside was a pair of key-shaped earrings—clearly Harriet’s work—studded with red stones. I’d been wearing them every day since.

I looked across the yard, the trees swaying overhead, to Nate’s house. I still called it that, a habit that I had yet to break, even though neither he nor his dad had lived there for a while. Mr. Cross had put it up for sale in May, just after a lawsuit was filed by several Rest Assured clients who had began to notice, and question, various discrepancies on their accounts. The last I’d heard, he was still in business, but just barely, and renting an apartment somewhere across town. The new owners of the house had small children and used the pool all the time. On warm afternoons, from my window, I could hear them laughing and splashing.

As for me, thanks to Gervais’s method, I’d made a ninety-one on my calc test—guaranteeing my own spot at the U—and soon would be walking across the green at Perkins Day, taking my diploma from Mr. Thackray, officially a high-school graduate. In the lead up to the ceremony, I’d received endless paperwork and e-mails about getting tickets for family, and all the rules and regulations about how many we were allowed to reserve. In the end, I’d taken four, for Cora and Jamie, Reggie and Harriet. Not all family, but if there was one thing I’d learned over these last few months, it was that this was a flexible definition.