Second Child (9 page)

Teri stared out the back window of the Mercedes as they turned off the main highway and dropped down toward Secret Cove, searching the road for anything that looked in the least bit familiar. As they wound through the little village, with its perfectly kept shops, all of them either built during the last century or carefully constructed to look as though they’d been, she saw nothing that stirred any sort of memory at all. But what she saw was fascinating.

Unlike the streets of the San Fernando Valley, which ran on for miles through a borderless morass of fast-food outlets and 7-Eleven stores, the main road into Secret Cove emerged from a patch of forest, then twisted through what looked to Teri almost like some kind of park. Every shop had flower boxes at its windows and gardens in front, and many of them had apparently once been private homes, their yards perfectly tended behind black wrought-iron fences.

“It’s beautiful,” Teri breathed, finally looking over at Melissa. “Has it always been this way?”

Melissa nodded. “Nobody lives in the village anymore. All the houses where the year-round people live are on the west side. But there’s all kinds of rules about what they can do in the village. There’s a historical society that makes sure no one changes anything.” She giggled softly. “Cora—that’s our housekeeper—says they’re trying to turn the whole town into a museum, but Tag says it doesn’t matter, since most of the people who live here are fossils anyway.”

Teri cocked her head. “Who’s Tag?”

“Cora’s grandson. He lives with her. His folks ran off and just dumped him with her. Can you imagine?”

Teri shook her head. “What’s he like?” she asked. “Is he cute?”

Phyllis’s voice cut into the conversation from the front
seat. “He’s a very ordinary boy,” she said. “He does some work around the place, and I suppose when he grows up he’ll marry one of the local girls.”

“No, he’s not,” Melissa put in. “He’s going to go to college and be an architect.”

Phyllis turned and shot her daughter a dark look. “Is he?” she said. “And how does he expect to pay for all of that?”

Melissa shrugged. “I—I guess he’ll work, or get a scholarship or something. And everybody doesn’t go to Harvard or Yale or one of those places.”

“The people who
count
do,” Phyllis replied. “What about you, Teri? Have you thought about college yet?”

Teri shook her head. “I was going to go to Cal State, I guess. But now …” Her voice trailed off again as everyone in the car realized that any plans she might have made had burned to ashes only a few days ago.

“Well, there’s plenty of time to think about it,” Phyllis said quickly. “We can have such fun, looking at schools for you. Eleanor Stevens is taking Ellen to Vassar over Labor Day weekend, just to look around. Perhaps we should tag along.”

Charles cast a sidelong glance at his wife. “Come on, Phyllis—give her a break. She’s got two more years of high school.”

“Well, you can’t start planning too early,” Phyllis replied. “The really good schools are so difficult to get into, and it doesn’t hurt to begin making connections now.”

Teri turned to Melissa. “Where do you go to school?”

“Prissy Preston,” Melissa replied, then grinned at the puzzled look on her half sister’s face. “Actually, it’s the Priscilla Preston Academy for Young Ladies,” she explained. “I hate it, but Mom says I have to go there because it’s where everyone goes. It’s really old, and kind of creepy, and they’re real strict. That’s why all the kids call it Prissy Preston—because all the teachers are really stuffy.”

“It’s an excellent school, Melissa, and you should be grateful you’re there.”

Melissa rolled her eyes, and Teri grinned at her, and suddenly Melissa decided that everything was going to be all right after all. Then the car turned through the gates of
Maplecrest and began winding down the long drive that led from Cove Road to the house. Teri’s eyes once again fixed on the landscape beyond the car’s windows.

They emerged from the woods, and Teri gasped.

And finally something clicked in her mind.

She wasn’t certain if it was the size of the house, or its shape, or only the vastness of the lawn in front of it. But there was something about it she remembered.

It loomed ahead of them, an enormous shingled structure, a wide veranda fronting it, with French doors opening onto the veranda from most of the first-floor rooms. There was a large front door in the center of the house, and as she looked at it, Teri suddenly remembered what was inside those doors.

An enormous foyer—or at least what had seemed to her like an enormous foyer when she was tiny—with a staircase that went straight up toward the back of the house, then split off in both directions to a huge landing on the second floor. And then …

And then there was nothing, for the staircase was all she remembered.

Charles pulled the car to a stop on the gravel drive that circled around in front of the house, and Teri almost hesitantly left the car to stand staring up at Maplecrest.

“It’s so big,” she breathed, her words barely audible. “I never realized. It—It’s a mansion!”

“Well, it’s comfortable,” Phyllis told her, using the slightly deprecating tone she always used when showing the house to strangers for the first time. “But it’s hardly a mansion. Absolutely
no one
can afford those anymore. They’ve all been turned into institutes, or religious centers.”

The door opened, and Cora, a fresh apron tied around her waist, bustled out. Brushing past the housekeeper with barely a nod, Phyllis marched briskly inside while Tag, who had followed his grandmother, waited on the front porch.

Cora hurried down the steps.

“Teri? Is it really you? Oh, my goodness, just look at you!” She wrapped her arms around the girl, pulling her to her ample bosom, then held her away at arm’s length. “Look at you—all grown up, and the spitting image of your mother!” Then, as she heard her own words, her
smile faded away. “Oh, dear,” she murmured. “It’s all so terrible, and here I am, acting like you’ve just come to visit.” Her eyes flooded with tears and she dabbed at them with a corner of her apron. “I just—well, I just don’t know what to say, and you must think I’m a terrible old fool. You probably don’t even remember me, do you?”

Teri shook her head. “I—I don’t really remember much of anything. It’s been so long. But it all seems sort of familiar, somehow.”

“But your mother must have shown you pictures of the place,” Charles suggested.

Teri nodded. “But it’s different. It’s almost like I’ve dreamed about it.”

“Well, of course you have,” Cora told her. “After all, you were born here, weren’t you? There’s some things you never forget. Now, come and meet my grandson.” She turned. “Tag? Come down and meet Teri.”

Tag slowly came down the steps and offered Teri his hand. “Hi,” he said.

“Hello,” Teri replied, smiling at Tag as she took his hand. There was a loud barking, and she turned to see a big Labrador lumbering across the lawn, his tail wagging furiously.

“Come on, Blackie!” she heard Melissa shout. “Come on, boy!”

The big dog raced up to Melissa and rose up on his hind legs, planting his forepaws on Melissa’s chest and lapping eagerly at her face. Laughing, Melissa scratched the dog’s ears, then pushed him off. “This is Teri,” she said, turning to her half sister. “Can you shake hands, Blackie?”

But instead of raising up a paw and holding it out toward Teri, Blackie shrank back against Melissa’s legs. A low growl rumbled up from his throat. “Blackie!” Melissa exclaimed. “Is that any way to treat a new friend?” She grinned eagerly at Teri. “Come on, Teri. Let him sniff your hand. He’s scared.”

Teri hesitantly took a step forward and reluctantly held out her hand for the big dog to sniff.

But Blackie bolted away, charging back across the lawn to disappear over the crest of the low rise that separated the grassy expanse from the beach beyond. “Blackie!” Melissa called after him. “Blackie, you come back here!”

“It’s all right,” Teri told her. “Let him go.”

Melissa glanced once more toward the beach and shrugged. “Come on,” she said. “Let me show you your room.”

She led Teri into the house, and as soon as Teri stepped into the foyer, she stopped.

It was exactly as she’d expected. The room was paneled in wood, all of it painted white, and there were French doors on either side of the broad staircase, leading to the terrace at the back of the house. Above the stairs, set into the high ceiling more than two floors above, was a domed skylight, its stained glass sending a rainbow of colors cascading down the stairs to splash across the white marble floor.

“I remember this,” she whispered. “I remember the stairs from when I was a baby. They looked so big.” She giggled. “They
are
big, aren’t they?”

Melissa nodded. “I used to like to slide down the banister. Cora always used to say I’d kill myself, and Mama said it wasn’t ladylike, but I did it anyway. Want to try?”

Teri gazed up at the polished walnut balustrade that curved down from the floor above and shook her head. “I think Cora’s right. I’d probably fall off and break my neck.”

“No you wouldn’t,” Melissa protested. “It’s fun. We’ll try it tomorrow.”

They climbed up the stairs, turning to the right, where the flight split in two, and finally came to the big second-floor landing. A mezzanine encircled the staircase, with broad halls leading to the wings of the house.

“You get your choice of rooms,” Melissa told Teri. “One of them’s supposed to be a guest room, but Mama says you can have it if you want it. It’s over this way.”

She led Teri toward the eastern corner of the house and opened a door to reveal a large and airy room with windows in three of its walls. From two of the windows the cove and the ocean beyond were spread out in a broad panorama, while the third window looked out over the terrace cradled between the two rear wings of the house. “My room’s the one straight across the terrace,” Melissa told her. “It’s not as big as this one, and this one has its own bathroom.”

“Where’s the other room?” Teri asked.

Melissa’s smile faded slightly. “It’s not as big as this one,” she said. “And the view isn’t as good.”

“Well, can’t we go look at it?”

Melissa led the way to the other side of the house, then paused outside the door to the room her mother had first chosen for Teri. “It—Well, it’s hardly even a room at all,” Melissa said. She pushed the door open and let Teri go in first.

The little room had been cleaned—Melissa herself had helped Cora scrub every surface until it sparkled, and they’d found some better furniture in the attic. The little chest of drawers had been replaced with an ornately carved highboy that Tag had discovered in a far corner of the attic, and they’d found an antique bedstead that Cora remembered from decades earlier. The rocker still stood where it had been, but the cushions on its seat and back had been covered with fresh chintz in a bright flowered pattern.

“I bet we could put wallpaper up if you decide you like this room,” Melissa said.

Caught by the plaintive note in her half sister’s voice, Teri turned and cocked her head slightly. “What’s special about this room?” she asked. “I mean, it’s not nearly as big as the other one, or as nice, either.”

“I know,” Melissa sighed. “And if it were me, I’d probably take the other room in a minute. But look.” She crossed the room and opened the door to the small bathroom that separated the nurse’s room from the bedroom beyond. “If you go through the other door, you can get into my room without ever going out into the hall. So if you take the little room, we can sneak back and forth without Mom and Dad ever knowing.”

Teri glanced around the bathroom. Though it wasn’t big by comparison to the rooms in Maplecrest, it was still larger than the bathroom she had shared with her parents in California. And the room Melissa had just apologized for was still larger than her room at home.

No, she silently corrected herself.
This
is my home now.

She moved toward the second door of the bathroom, the one that led to Melissa’s own room, and suddenly she had another of those strange flashes of recognition.

“Go on in,” she heard Melissa say.

Slowly, she pushed the door open.

As soon as she stepped into the room, she knew.

This
had been hers.

All of it felt familiar, despite the fact she hadn’t been in it since she was less than three years old.

Even the smell of it seemed to bring back old feelings, feelings of warmth, security, and of arms cradling her, and images of faces smiling down at her.

Yes, this had been her room; this had been where she lived when she was a baby.

She hesitated, her emotions churning.

The other room—the room on the other side of the house—was much larger, much brighter than the little room next to Melissa’s.

But that was the side of the house where guests stayed.

Guests, who would come for a few days, or maybe a couple of weeks, and then leave.

But Teri wasn’t leaving. This was her home again, and she didn’t want to feel like a guest.

And, of course, there was Melissa.

Melissa, the half sister she’d had for so many years but had never known, was watching her now, anxiously waiting to see what she was going to do.

She smiled. “I think you’re right,” she said. “I think I’ll take the little room. The other one’s too big, and I’d always be looking over here across the terrace, wondering what you’re doing and wishing I could talk to you. If I’m over here with you, it’ll be a lot more fun.”

Melissa gazed at the beautiful girl who was smiling at her, and suddenly threw her arms around Teri.

“I know what happened is really terrible,” she whispered. “But I’m so glad you’re here. I’ve just been so lonely, and now I’m not going to be anymore.”

Teri hesitated, then let her own arms go around Melissa.

But though her lips smiled warmly as she accepted the embrace, her eyes—had anyone noticed—betrayed an emotionless chill.

Brett Van Arsdale watched the volleyball arc upward and waited until the very last second before launching himself into the air, his right arm stretching above his head, his hand clenched into a fist. At exactly the right moment he swung his arm downward, spiking the ball back over the net and into the sand between Kent Fielding and Cyndi Miller, who glared accusingly at each other. Both spoke at the same instant.