Read Second Chances Online

Authors: Brenda Chapman

Tags: #Juvenile Fiction, #Social Issues, #Adolescence, #Family, #Multigenerational, #Friendship

Second Chances (4 page)

BOOK: Second Chances
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“I wouldn't hold my breath. Red hair and freckles on a bean pole aren't likely to cause any riots.”

“None of that now, Little Fin. Come up to the house and I'll get you something cold to drink. You look like you've been in the sun more than is good for you.”

His brown eyes saw too much when they looked at me, and I was happy to turn around and lead the way to his back door with Ruby bounding through the tall grass ahead of us.

It was cooler in his front room. A ceiling fan was moving the soupy air around, and I plunked myself directly under it on the couch. Gideon set a glass of lemonade for me on the coffee table. I looked over to where his navy blue mail bag hung on a hook by the door.

“You're still on mail duty?”

“For now. Thinking of giving it up, though. I'm busy with writing and the house. New people in the Davidson cottage this summer,” he said, settling into his desk chair. He spun it around so he was facing me. “They have different last names but that could mean nothing. People get married nowadays and women keep their last names. Women's lib they call it.”

“I met them. Well, I met her anyway. They have a little boy too.” I hadn't thought about Candy since talking with Danny and Michelle about the new family staying in the Davidsons'.

“I delivered a package up there this morning. They were still in bed and it was close to eleven thirty. Your cousin Elizabeth Hopp got a letter this morning too. She from Toronto?”

I nodded. “She's been sent to stay with us for the summer. Her parents figure a summer with me will straighten her right out.”

Gideon shook his head. “They've got to be dreaming. If she likes the fast life, a summer at Cedar Lake won't change her. She'll just come up with new ways to amuse herself.”

“You don't think people can change?”

“Only if they want to … or have to. People are basically selfish, self-serving hedonists. I could go on now, but we have all summer.”

I laughed and Gideon smiled again. His smiles never hung around for long, and it always felt good to be the cause of one. “How was your winter?” I asked.

“Not bad. Caught a cold, though, and am having trouble shaking the cough. Ruby developed a bit of arthritis in her hind legs.”

“Poor old Ruby,” I said, rubbing her back. She let me fuss over her for a bit before getting up to go lie at Gideon's feet.

“How's your writing going? Win any school essay-writing contests this year?” Gideon's eyes studied my face. I would have liked him not to be watching me so intently.

“No. I didn't enter,” I said and looked down at my leg. I swiped at some dirt on my knee.

“But you won last year. What was your topic again?”

I kept my head down. “Sending more aid to starving people in Biafra.”

“That's right. Why didn't you enter again with all that success?”

I thought of how Dad had torn apart my ideas after I'd won. He'd said we should be keeping our money in Canada and helping our own people first. “I just didn't have time,” I said.

Gideon kept looking at me over the rim of his glass but he didn't say anything. I set my glass on the coffee table.

“Thanks for the drink, Gideon. I guess I'll be getting home to give Mom a break from the store.”

“Your lovely mother. Say hi for me. Your dad still commuting on the weekends?”

“Yup. He's fulltime in the mill since last year.”

“That's good. I know it's a rough go for your folks when he's not working.”

He let the implication lie between us. I didn't pick it up. Family solidarity and all that. We walked toward the door.

“I hear there's a beach party for you kids Friday night. I guess you'll be taking your cousin Elizabeth.”

“Maybe.”

“Next time you stop by, I should have my new poem done. I've tentatively called it ‘Alcoholic Haze on the Northumberland Hills'.”

“All your poems seem to follow a certain theme, Gideon.”

“Write about what you know, kid. Lesson number one.”

“Between you and Elizabeth, this summer should be quite an education.”

“Your cousin teaching you something?”

“You might say that. I figure I'll be well-rounded by the time she leaves, or so screwed up, I'll never get a date.”

“Soak it all up, Little Fin. You never can take in too much information, no matter how extraneous it appears at the time.”

“What does extraneous mean, Gideon?”

“Irrelevant. Superfluous. Unnecessary.”

“Like studying math or reading
Love Story
for the tenth time?”

“The very same. Although it's beyond me why anyone would stoop to read that pulp even one time. It's like people nowadays get their taste in a box of Cracker Jacks.”

I braked in front of Candy Parsens' driveway and stood with both feet on either side of bike, my back resting against the seat. I looked towards the cottage. It was set well back from the road and almost completely hidden from view by two maple trees, a stand of birch, and a tangle of shrubs that needed cutting back. From where I stood, I could hear loud music pouring out of an open window. Janis Joplin was singing “Me and Bobby McGee,” and I rested for a minute to listen. The album had been released in January after she'd died, and I hadn't heard it all the way through. I looked back toward the house. What would it hurt to check out how they were doing?

I got off my bike and followed Janis's gritty voice up the drive and through the bushes to the far side of the path that wound through scrub along the front of the building. Around the corner of the cottage, I found Candy bent over a clothes basket, lifting a shirt to pin on a line she'd strung between two trees. Her white peasant skirt billowed around her legs as she reached to clip the clothes peg. Her feet were bare and I could see her breasts spilling over a red tube top. This time, her blonde hair was wound into a knot at the base of her neck, but pieces had escaped and hung down her back in uneven strands. When she looked in my direction, she cupped a hand over her eyes. It took her a few seconds to recognize me. She started walking in my direction, her smile wide.

“It's Darlene, isn't it? Darlene from the store? It's so good to see somebody familiar. I can't tell you how much.”

When she was just a few feet away, she stopped. “Would you like something cold to drink? I've just squeezed some lemons. It was as if I knew I'd have company today. It's good karma.”

She looked so hopeful, it didn't feel right just leaving.

I nodded. “That'd be nice. Thanks.”

Candy talked non-stop as we walked toward the back door. I left my bike leaned against a rain barrel and followed her dancing feet into the kitchen. When I stepped inside, it took me a second to take it all in. The counter was filled with torn bags of flour and brown sugar, containers of granola cereal, whole wheat pasta, and different beans and grains that I couldn't place. The sink overflowed with dirty dishes while half-full coffee cups and bowls of milk and cereal lay scattered across the table. I could see glass ring stains and the freshly burned outline of a pot on the counter near the stove, now caked in a layer of grease. A bag in the corner spilled over with garbage. The smell of food left too long in the sun mixed with rotting fruit and burned coffee made me breathe in shallow gulps. I figured Mrs. Davidson would have a bigger heart attack if she dropped by unexpectedly.

Candy noticed my neck swivelling back and forth to take it all in. She waved a hand at the mess and said happily, “Doesn't take us long to settle in. We can sit outside if you like. I'll just get the lemonade.”

“I'll wait outside.” I tried to speak without inhaling.

Candy pushed open the screen door with her hip a few minutes later and stepped outside. She handed me a glass as she sat down next to me on the back steps. I sipped the fresh lemonade, and it was good, better than Gideon's store-bought stuff. Candy took a long drink, then reached inside the pocket of her skirt and pulled out a crumpled package of cigarettes and a red Bic lighter. She lit one and inhaled deeply, letting the smoke come out of her nose like a head of steam.

“That's better. I've been washing clothes by hand all morning and needed a break.”

“Where's your little boy?” I'd forgotten his name.

“Seany? He's having a nap. I've never met a kid who likes to sleep as much as this one. He's up half the night, mind you.” Candy turned sideways on the step and looked at me. “You've gotten some sun today. Do you like being outside? I personally can hardly stand being indoors.”

“I'm outside as much as I can be. I burn easily though.”

“I guess with your colouring. You have such lovely creamy white skin. I love your freckles.”

“Are you
kidding
?” I said without thinking.

“Not at all. I'll bet you hate how you look, am I right? We all want to look like some other overpaid, cookie-cutter fashion model. It's all a load of brainwashing from corporate America. You are a natural beauty. Boys'll be falling all over themselves to go out with you in a few years. Just you wait and see.”

A few people had told me that I was unusual looking, but that hadn't felt like a compliment. I looked at her with a greater interest. The cigarette moved up and down between her lips as she talked.

“Wouldn't it be nice to go for a swim?” Her eyes were wide and sparkly. “Johnny doesn't like me to leave Sean with a sitter or even go outside when he's in his crib, but maybe one afternoon when Sean's sleeping, we could sneak to the beach for an hour. Seany's dead to the world for a few hours every day.”

I'd never heard an adult speak like this before. I sat still thinking about what she'd said. “Why doesn't your husband want you to leave Sean with a sitter?”

Candy laughed as if I were the most amusing person on earth. “Says we've uprooted him and he wants the kid to have some stability for a while. My
husband
Johnny is a strange man.”

She swept her cigarette in a wide arc to take in the property. She looked at me and her eyes were shiny with tears. “This is a far cry from my old life. Do you know I used to be a back-up singer for a couple of bands? I lived in L.A. for a while and dated rock singers. It was a great life.”

“So why did you give all that up?”

“I fell for Johnny. Simple as that.” Elizabeth said the words as if free will had nothing to do with it. The cigarette in her hand was trembling. “Sure, he's five years older than me, but we just had a connection, you know? Johnny just had this aura and I knew I was destined to be with him. It's our karma.”

That karma word again.
“Did you date or know anyone famous … I mean, before Johnny?”

“Famous? Of course. I used to hang out with Janis Joplin — I still like to play her music in the morning to kick-start my day. It takes me back, you know? I was devastated when she died in L.A. They asked me to speak at her funeral, but I was too ripped apart to get up in front of all those people. Jesus, I miss her still. Her high school voted her the ugliest girl, did you know that? How do you get over something like that? People can be such monsters.” She shook her head. “We used to zip around L.A. in her Porsche. It was painted all psychedelic colours and everyone watched us go by, like we were really something. We had such a blast when we were together. Those were the days, my friend, to quote another musician pal of mine.”

“Wasn't she that Welsh …?”

“Singer. Yes, Mary Hopkin. I met her when I was over in Britain one summer. We toured around together.”

Candy was friends with Janis Joplin and Mary Hopkin? Elizabeth would kill to hear Candy's stories. She wanted to meet somebody famous even more than I did. Candy touched my bare arm with her fingers.

“Janis was troubled, you know? And the drugs … well, that's what did her in. I was supposed to be with her that night but met up with Jimmy and that was that. It hurts to think I could have saved her.”

“Jimmy?”

“Jim Morrison. You ever heard of him?”

I nodded. I forced my lips back together. Everybody under the age of thirty had heard of Jim Morrison and the Doors.

Creases appeared in Candy's forehead and her eyes got worried. “You won't tell? Johnny hates when I talk about the old days and living in the States.”

I shook my head.

“Speaking of Johnny, he should be back within the hour, so I'd better get Seany up and get him bathed and ready to see his daddy.”

“I should be going too.”

I stood and she took my empty glass from me. I'd been hoping for a few more of her stories.

Candy looked up at me with her crystal blue eyes and a crooked smile, as if she could read what was going on inside my head. “Won't you come back tomorrow? We could swim in the bay. If you feel weird about leaving Sean alone, you could watch him while I do some lengths. Johnny has an appointment in Toronto and he'll be gone early. You don't know how much that would mean to me if you could come by.”

“What time?”

“Johnny's gone for the day, so one o'clock would be perfect.”

“I should be able to make it then.”

“And remember, not one word about us living in the States. Johnny would kill me if he knew I was talking about my past life. He just hates me talking about those days to anybody.”

Chapter Four

T
he
next morning, I moped around the house, listening to the rain beating against the roof. A wind from the east buffeted the cottage without signs of letting up. Nobody made the trip from their cottage to the store, and I couldn't blame them. Mom was bored and called me and Elizabeth for lunch earlier than usual. She set bowls of Campbell's tomato soup with sandwiches of ham and mustard on white Wonder bread in front of us. Elizabeth looked at the food as if it was full of bugs. Mom went back for a jug of milk. Elizabeth leaned into me and said so low only I could hear, “I wonder what the poor people are eating.”

I picked up my spoon. “Mom defrosted a Sarah Lee orange cake for dessert. Save some room.”

Mom slid in across from me. She rested an elbow on the table and cupped her chin in her hand. She sighed. “It's going to be an all-day rain. I guess we better get used to the idea.” She sighed again and looked out the kitchen window at the rivulets of rain running down the window pane. The dark, wet day caught me deep inside and made me feel depressed. I'd given up the idea of swimming with Candy at one o'clock.

“Yum, great canned soup,” Elizabeth said to my mother. “Hits the spot on a rainy day.”

“Glad you like it,” said Mom. “This soup is Darlene's favourite.”

I took a slurp from my spoon and grinned at Elizabeth. “It goes even better with Klik sandwiches,” I said.

Elizabeth grimaced. “What in the world is Klik?” she asked.

“It's that meat the colour of lung that comes in a can with a key. The best part is the jelly they preserve the meat in. All nice and gushy in your mouth.”

Elizabeth's pursed her lips together like she was holding something in.

I lowered my head and smiled. “Just what do the Hopps eat for lunch?” I asked as if I cared. I set my spoon down and stared at Elizabeth. “You know, like on a regular rainy day.”

Mom lifted her chin from her hand and looked at me.

Elizabeth smiled and her eyes glinted. “Cook whips up something. Quiche Lorraine or Coquilles St. Jacques. Whatever's on hand. She makes a terrific French onion soup from scratch. Croutons toasted in the oven and mozzarella cheese bubbling until it's just brown on top.”

“This must be quite a change for you,” I said. “How can you bear life without professional help?”

Elizabeth's smile turned into her familiar smirk. “You might benefit from some professional help yourself.”

Mom cleared her throat. “Darlene,” she said quietly.

I broke away from my cousin's stare and looked down into my bowl of soup. “Do you need me in the store this afternoon, Mom?” I asked, scooping up a spoonful and raising it to my lips.

Mom stared back at the rain that was rattling the glass and streaking down the window. The worry lines on her forehead deepened. “I should be fine. There won't be much business if this weather keeps up.”

“What do you do when it rains?” Elizabeth asked me.

Mom turned her attention to me and offered encouragement with her eyes.

“We could play a board game or cards if you want,” I offered half-heartedly.
For the love of god, say no.

Elizabeth pulled all her hair into a knot on top of her head, then let it cascade over her shoulders before answering. “Well, I'm tired of reading, so I guess.”

“Do you know how to play rummy?”

“Not that well. We could try a few hands.”

“I'll clean up here,” said Mom in her fake cheery voice, the one she used when things weren't going as well as she would like. “Nobody will come to the store until the rain lets up.”

We climbed up to our bedroom and sat on the floor. Elizabeth tuned her radio until Joe Cocker's gravelly voice filled the silence. The reception was filled with static and she played with the knob for a bit, trying to tune it better. She hit the side of the radio with the palm of her hand a few times before setting it on the bedside table and sitting down across from me. I shuffled the deck of cards.

“Bloody storm is messing up the reception. This never happens in Toronto.” Her face was one big pout.

“So we each get seven cards .…” I began.

Elizabeth interrupted, her voice bored. “I remember how to play. It's not that difficult.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out the pack of cigarettes.

“So why did you say you didn't know how to play?”

“It amused me. I have to find my fun where I can get it. You make it easy.”

“Mom won't like you smoking in the house.”

Elizabeth shrugged and took one out of the pack. She studied it for a second before waving it a few inches in front of my face. “What she doesn't know won't hurt her.” She stood and pushed the window open. It was an old casement window that took effort to budge. Rain quickly filled up the sill. She dropped back down onto the floor and sat with her legs crossed and took out her matches. “There. Happy now?”

I picked up my cards moved them into sequence. “As a clam,” I said.

We played the first hand and Elizabeth slapped down a trio of aces, chortling through the smoke she blew between us. “Take that, little cousin.”

“Good one,” I said. I picked up the queen she'd laid down. One more and I would have a run in diamonds.

Elizabeth squinted at me through a haze of smoke. “Oh, by the way, did I forget to mention that Tyler came around yesterday while you were visiting that old guy?”

“Gideon.”

“What?”

“The old guy. His name's Gideon.” I discarded the two of clubs. Excitement fluttered in my stomach.
Don't let Elizabeth know.
“Did Tyler want anything?”

Elizabeth's eyes landed on me like I was a piece of something shiny. I looked back down at my cards.

“He wanted to make sure we knew about the beach party this Friday night. Did you know about it?”

I squirmed a bit under her stare. Maybe, I should have told her. “They happen most weekends during the summer. We light a campfire and somebody always brings beer. We can go together if you want.”

“And do you drink beer?”

“Like a fish.”

“Why do I find that hard to believe?” Elizabeth discarded the nine of hearts.

“I don't know. Why is that?” I laid the three of clubs on top of the nine.

Elizabeth leaned her head to one side and studied me. “I detect something going on under your square, placid exterior.” She shuffled the cards in her hand before placing a row of fives on the floor, then discarded a queen. Her voice got friendlier. “You know I'm just kidding around, don't you, Dar?”

“Sure.” I picked up the queen and pretended to think over my hand. Before Elizabeth said anything, I laid down a four-card straight, three fives, and discarded the last card in my hand. “Rummy,” I said. I said the words quietly so she wouldn't think I was gloating.

Elizabeth dropped the rest of her cards onto the floor in front of her. “Damn. I only needed a king.” She smiled at me. When her grey eyes lit up, she was pretty enough to be one of the models in
Seventeen
magazine. “Let's be friends, Dar,” she said. “I'm sorry if I hurt your feelings. I guess I have to remember that you are so much younger than me and don't always get my teasing. We're cousins, joined by blood, and that makes us joined for life.”

“Yeah, I guess.” I couldn't tell whether she was still playing me or being serious. It didn't really matter. I collected the cards and handed them to her. “Your turn to deal,” I said.

I found Mom in the store leaning on the counter reading the June edition of
Better Homes and Gardens
. She glanced up at me and smiled as I slipped in beside her and pushed myself up onto the stool. “How's it going?” she asked.

“Okay. Elizabeth is having a nap.”

Mom bumped her leg against mine. “Thanks for playing cards. How was Gideon the other day?”

“Okay, except he has a cold. After I biked to his place, I stopped by and saw Candy. We had lemonade on her back steps.”

Mom frowned. “Oh? I'm not sure that's a good place for you to be hanging around.”

“Candy just seems lonely. Johnny isn't there much.”

“They have nothing in common with you, Darlene. I'd really rather you didn't start going over there.”

I was puzzled. My mother usually was accepting of everybody. “I won't,” I said, but only so she wouldn't worry. No point telling her about the swimming date.

Mom turned and looked out the window. “We could do with more customers, but the storm is getting worse. I have a bit of a headache.”

“Why don't you go lie down? I can watch the store.”

“You must have something better to do.”

“I'll just read one of the books in the rack and maybe sneak a chocolate bar.”

“Sneak two if you want.”

Mom closed up the magazine and patted me on the shoulder before she walked out from behind the counter. She fussed with straightening up the gum display and I knew she wanted to tell me something. Finally, she looked up. “How are you and Elizabeth really getting along?”

“Okay, I guess.”

“You don't mind sharing your room?”

“I'll survive. She's keeping my summer interesting.”

“I'm not so sure this was the best place for her to spend her holidays. Your aunt Peg just had so much to deal with.” Mom bit her lip. “Oh, by the way, William phoned and said he'll be home next weekend for a few days.”

I clapped my hands. “I can't wait to see him. Will Dad be here tomorrow?”

“Uh-huh. As far as I know. He should arrive by suppertime. We'll have to think of something good to feed him. Maybe I'll take a run into town tomorrow morning and pick up a few things. A pork roast might be nice. Your father likes that. Do you think you could get up and watch the store for an hour or so?”

I looked hard at my mom. The rosy colour had crept back into her cheeks again and her eyes were fixed on something to the right of my head. I was surprised because she normally had Dad bring in supplies Friday on his way to the lake.

“Okay,” I said at last.

Mom nodded and turned up the radio. The Guess Who was singing “These Eyes.”

“I love this song,” Mom said, jumping off the stool. She pretended to waltz with someone across the floor on her way to the kitchen, twirling and spinning between the rows of canned food. She looked pretty in her white shorts and sleeveless blouse patterned in tiny violets and brown sandals showing off her long legs. I wondered if she minded being away from Dad all week. I'd never thought about it before. I'd never much considered whether my mother was happy with her life — she was just my mom. It was as if a door had opened in my mind, and I wasn't sure I wanted to go through it to find what was on the other side.

Mom stopped at the back of the store and threw me a kiss. I smiled and threw one back. And then, she was gone.

I woke up earlier than Elizabeth. The storm had moved on and full sun beamed onto the floor through the gap in the curtains. It was Friday — the day my dad was coming, the day of the beach party. I lay in bed a while longer, drifting in and out of sleep, dreaming Tyler Livingstone had asked me to walk with him on the beach. We were sitting side by side in the sand then suddenly we were ten years old and he was pushing me on the tire swing my dad had hung from the branch of the old oak tree at the back of our property. Tyler was calling up to me, but I couldn't hear what he was saying. My feet touched the leaves on the branches every time he pushed me higher, and I felt like I was flying. I looked down from my place in the sky and Elizabeth had appeared. She had her arms around Tyler's neck and was kissing him on the mouth. I yelled to Tyler to get me out of the tire, but he didn't stop kissing Elizabeth, and I couldn't get down. I struggled to free my legs while Elizabeth and Tyler spun around and around on the grass beneath me, Elizabeth's arms spread wide and her face turned up to the sky, a smirk on her face the size of a half moon.

I jolted awake. I was lying on my stomach, my face pressed into the pillow and the bed sheet tangled around my sweaty legs like a cloth bandage. I kicked away the sheet and rolled onto my back, then swung my feet onto the floor to sit on the side of my bed. Across the room, Elizabeth was still sleeping, her back to me and her long blonde hair messy in sleep and trailing across the pillow like ropes of seaweed. I didn't need to talk to her yet, the only good thing about waking up so early.

I padded to the dresser and grabbed some shorts and a T-shirt to change in the bathroom. I felt for my diary where I'd stashed it under my bed and collected the key from my jewellery box. Elizabeth's breathing was deep and even. I walked quietly out of the room, got dressed, and went downstairs.

Mom wasn't up yet, even though bright sunshine streamed in through the windows. I stopped near the kitchen window and craned my head to look past the tree branches to the cloudless sky. The outdoors was calling to me. I'd find somewhere quiet to write before Mom woke up and wanted me to look after the store. I'd have time to rid myself of Elizabeth and Tyler and the disturbing vision of the two of them that I'd conjured up.

The path felt like my own private entrance through the pines and cedars to the sheltered bit of beach where I'd spent hours swimming and sitting on the rocks or the sand, watching the waves roll across the shoreline. It was my special place this early in the morning, before other cottagers made their way to the public beach just around the bend from our tiny stretch. Gulls circled overhead and their shrieks were startling within the morning's silence. A slight wind across the lake was kicking up waves that rolled one after the other onto the shoreline. I shivered inside the sweater that I'd put on before leaving the cottage, but it wouldn't be long before the sun started warming up the air and the day turned hot.

BOOK: Second Chances
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