The Accidentals(83)

“I get that a lot,” my father says.

The skinny kid checks his watch. “Whoops, I have one minute.” He opens a folder on the music stand and sits down on the stool.

It’s 11:59. I’d forgotten that the carillon is played every day at noon.

“If we stay to watch, will there be any retribution?” Frederick asks.

The kid shakes his head. “Nah. I’m over it. But the whole concert lasts about five minutes.”

The sheet music reads, “Simple Gifts.” At twelve o’clock, he begins pressing levers, and the folk tune rings out at a deafening volume from the bells overhead. I look up to see the bells tipping one at a time, pulled by metal cords that rise from the backs of the levers. Even when the skinny kid stops pressing levers, the bells’ ringing tone hangs in the air.

Frederick stares up at the mechanism. “The time delay must mess with you,” he says.

“You learn to anticipate yourself,” the kid answers. Then, when the reverb stops, he begins playing a second song from memory.

Jake and I turn to each other. “That’s…” I can’t put my finger on it.

“Duran Duran!” Frederick snorts. “‘Hungry Like the Wolf.’”

“I like to play it at lunchtime,” the kid says as he bangs out the chorus.





Jake drops a ten-dollar bill on the dining hall entry desk. “We have a guest,” he tells the nice old lady who staffs it.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Frederick argues, but Jake is already headed for the line.

“Don’t go for the burrito,” I warn. “It doesn’t taste like L.A.”

Frederick leans over me. “Jake is good people,” he whispers.

I look up at him, and his eyes are smiling. “I know.”

“Why’ve you been hiding him?”

“I’m not even sure.”





“Scoot in,” I say to my father as he slides onto the banquette bench. Jake sits down across from us, his tray piled with two sandwiches, chips, and a salad.

“This is pretty good,” my father says after taking a bite of his clam chowder. “You should see the slop they used to serve us in high school.”

“I’ll bet it didn’t cost thirty large a year, though,” Jake says. The dining hall glasses are small, so he has three of them full of milk, lined up like soldiers at the front of his tray.

“Good point. I’m not sure Rachel’s getting her money’s worth.”

“She gets it back in library books.”

And now I feel self-conscious.

“Thanks for the bell-tower tour. That was pretty cool,” my father says.

“Oh, no problem.”

Then Frederick puts down his spoon with a chuckle. “When that door was shut…” He breaks off and laughs. “You should have seen your face.”

I can see Jake’s cheeks beginning to color. He takes a sip of milk, but then a laugh threatens, and he has to put his hand in front of his mouth.

My father rocks back against the ancient wooden bench and roars.

Jake almost chokes, and then laughs harder. And that gets me going. I wonder what Jake would have done if that door had been truly locked? I giggle until tears begin to prick my eyes.

The three of us are still shaking when Aurora stops in front of our table. “Oh my God,” she says. “What did I miss? And where was my invitation?” She puts her tray down next to Jake’s.

Frederick pulls it across to our side of the table, and wipes his eyes. “You come here, missy. I haven’t seen you for a while.”

Aurora walks over to the end of the banquette, where I sit. She steps over my back. “Lean in, Freddy.”

“Oh, I forgot to get coffee,” Aurora says after she’s begun eating.

“I’ll get it.” I hop up. “Anyone else?”

When I come back with four mugs, two in each hand, Aurora is hysterical too.

“Can you imagine our 911 call?” Frederick asks with a smirk.

I sit close to my father, listening to the low sound of his voice, and Aurora’s laugh. I take in Jake’s bashful grin.

How had Hannah once put it? She’d said she hoped I would soon have my feet back under me. Today it was possible to think I might get there.

Jake has to leave first, so he can walk all the way to the college for a chemistry lecture. Frederick shakes his hand across the table. “Pleasure to meet you, Jake. Let’s do it again.”

When Jake stands up to bus his tray, I follow him with my own. Placing it on the conveyor belt, I turn to him. “Thank you,” I say. “That was really fun. I’m sorry…” I take a deep breath. “I’m sorry I didn’t introduce you to Frederick before. That was stupid of me.”

He gives me a little shrug that might mean anything. It might say, Hey, no problem, or it might say, You’re an idiot. I’m still trying to decide when Jake leans close to my ear.

“I love you, Rachel,” he whispers. And then he turns and walks out of the dining hall.

When I sit down again in front of Frederick and Aurora, I have trouble following their conversation. Jake’s words are like a gem I clutch in my hand. I can’t really hold it up to the light and examine it until I’m alone.