The Accidentals(48)

“Rachel, what’s the matter?”

I don’t answer. Instead, I move to the other edge of the window, so I can see the woman’s face. She’s pretty, with smiling eyes. But the way he looks at her makes my head ache.

“I see my dad, that’s all.”

“Do I get to meet him?” Jake asks.

“No,” I say more forcefully than I mean to. “He looks busy.” And then I drag my eyes from the window, heading down the street again. My pace forces Jake to run to keep up with me. I stop in front of the bookstore, which is already dark. The sign says that they close at seven thirty.

“Damn,” I swear. “Damn, damn, damn.” But it’s not really about the bookstore. My father lied to me so smoothly. It makes me want to howl.

I can hear my mother’s voice whisper, A man will say anything.

“Rachel.” Jake puts his hands on my shoulders. “She dies in the end.”

I feel close to tears. “Who does?”

And then we’re facing each other, close together, looking into each other’s eyes. “Anna Karenina,” he whispers. A smile flickers across his face. The moment yawns open, the outcome hinging on me. I feel him waiting for a tiny sign from me. A signal.

Or maybe he’s not waiting at all, and it’s all in my head.

Frederick’s lie stings. His rejection makes it impossible to be sure that Jake’s smile isn’t mocking me.

“She dies in the end,” I say slowly. And suddenly I just can’t take the pressure or the disappointment. “That’s not funny,” I bite out, taking a half-step backward. Jake’s hands slip off my shoulders.

“Well, wait… That’s not what I meant!” he says, and then cringes. “Shit.” There’s a horrible silence, one I could have broken if I weren’t so torn up inside.

Angry Rachel is back. “You’d better mail that letter to your parents.” I point down the street toward the post office. As if it makes no difference to me what he does with his Friday night.

Jake tightens his grip on the envelope. “Yeah. I guess. You coming?”

Slowly I shake my head.

We have another stare-down, with Jake looking at me like he’s trying to solve a problem. He waits, but I don’t budge. I feel as closed down as the bookstore. And dark inside.

After one more tentative glance at me, Jake turns slowly around and heads down the street. By himself.

I watch him walk away, my misery complete. I’m very much alone now, at eight o’clock on a Friday night. Breathing in the chilly November air, I have no idea what to do with myself.

I will not go back and look in the window of Mary’s again. That’s too pathetic, even for me. So I cross the street. The bus from Boston has just disgorged its passengers onto the sidewalk, and they fan out in every direction, wheeling bags and suitcases behind them.

One figure has only a duffel bag over his shoulder, and an oddly familiar gait. It’s such an improbable sighting that I almost don’t bother calling out his name.

But, God, it really looks like him. “Haze!”

He turns around.





Chapter Sixteen





I run to him, laughing. “My God! What are you doing here?”

“What do you think? I’m here to see you. Nothing else could get me onto a bus for thirty-six hours. It’s a little birthday present I’m giving to myself.”

“Oh! Tomorrow. Wow. But…why didn’t you tell me you were coming?”

“Because you would have told me not to bother.”

He has a point. “I just…” I smile up at him. “I can’t believe it’s really you.” He’s gotten a haircut. It makes him look older, more serious. “You look good.”

“I was just thinking the same thing about you.” He picks me up around the waist and spins me like a child. When my feet touch down again, he takes both of my hands. “What are you doing out here alone anyway? Your hands are cold.”

I exhale. “I was just running an errand, and it didn’t work out.”

“So where to?” Haze asks.

Now there’s a good question. I’m more than a little stunned to see him and don’t know quite what to think. “Let’s walk,” I say, sounding too much like Frederick.

Damn him.

“Actually, there’s somewhere I’ve been meaning to walk. But it’s far.”

“I have time,” Haze says. “Hold my hand.” He hitches his bag a little higher on his shoulder, and off we go.





“There are bells in that tower,” I say as we pass the library. “Music students play songs twice a day, and they pick the strangest things. Last week I heard Queen. “We Will Rock You.”

“Those crazy prep-school kids,” Haze says, squeezing my hand. “I’m glad I found you,” Haze says. “I was worried that you’d be out somewhere, not answering your phone.”

“Not this time.”

“It’s beautiful here. All these old buildings.”

“Sometimes I feel like I’m walking around in a storybook. Do you want to see the library? It’s kind of cool.”

“Libraries really aren’t my thing. Where are we headed, anyway?”