The Edge of the Shadows (13 page)

TWENTY-FIVE

J
ulie Cartwright was as good as her word. At the appointed hour for their meeting with Tatiana Primavera, she came through the doors to the high school's administration offices. The determined expression on her face told Hayley that they were going to get to the bottom of why, in her senior year, she'd apparently developed a new personality that prominently featured lack of cooperation.

Hayley was waiting for her, sitting on a decrepit chair of phony leather splitting at the seams. She rose. Wordlessly, she and her mom gravitated to the reception desk, where the student aide in charge made the call to Ms. Primavera. There was virtually no wait for the counselor. Within seconds, Tatiana Primavera teetered toward them on the faux Jimmy Choo heels she favored for her footwear at school.

She took them back to her office, where the meeting began with the ceremonious handing over of Hayley's senior essay. Tatiana was thrilled to receive this. She leaned back in her chair, said, “Excellent,” as she began to read it. She frowned, however, at the midway point. She glanced up at Hayley, then at her mom, before reading to the end and pursing her lips thoughtfully.

“Well,” she said, “as a start it's touching some of the bases. But it doesn't actually reflect . . .” She paused as if considering a way to put things.

Hayley waited. Her mom sat in silence. She held her handbag on her lap with her hands folded over the top of it and her feet planted squarely on the floor. Hayley could see that Tatiana Primavera's birdlike glances between them indicated that she was picking up on their tension.

“Let me put it this way,” Tatiana finally said. “Considering the classes you've taken and the grades you have, the essay actually looks a bit . . . Did you write this yourself, Hayley?”

Hayley said nothing, but she felt her mom's eyeballs boring holes into her head. Julie Cartwright said, “Can I . . . ?” and extended her hand. Hayley waited for her to read the essay and to see that all she had done was copy her mother's own work word for word. When she read, Julie Cartwright said, “Is this supposed to tell me . . .” and then she switched gears. “She thinks she's not going to college,” she said to Tatiana Primavera. She tossed the essay on the counselor's desk.

Tatiana Primavera frowned at Hayley. “Is there a reason you don't want to go to college?”

Hayley waited for what she knew wasn't going to come in answer: her mother telling the counselor that the family needed Hayley at home to help run the farm. She had overheard her mom on the phone talking to a woman on the island who had a housecleaning business. “What about three days a week?” Julie Cartwright had asked, and Hayley knew darn well that she wasn't asking to have someone come over to clean
their
place.

“Hayley?” the counselor probed.

“I'll go to the Skagit Valley classes offered on the island. And I'll get a job.”

“Jobs are scarce on Whidbey. And even if they weren't—”

“I c'n clean houses,” Hayley said. She tossed a meaningful look at her mother.

Tatiana Primavera cast another glance between them. She said carefully, “Do we have a mother-daughter conflict going on here? It might help our discussion to get whatever issues there are between you out in the open.”

“There isn't an issue,” Julie Cartwright said.

Oh right, Hayley thought. There was just no issue her mom would talk about.

Tatiana nodded doubtfully and went on once again to talk about Hayley's grades and the classes she'd taken. She'd never received less than an A in anything, and her classes were tough. She had honors classes wherever possible; she was in her fourth year of foreign language; she was taking AP statistics. She was poised for the Ivy League. Or if she didn't want to travel far from home, there were places like University of Washington, Evergreen, Seattle U, University of Puget Sound . . . But, really, with her grades, she needed to consider Yale, Harvard, Princeton, Stanford.

“I don't want to—”

“D'you have catalogues for those places?” Julie Cartwright cut in. “We've looked through Brown's and Reed's, but if there are others . . . ? And what else should she be doing?”

“You're signed up for the SAT, yes?” Tatiana asked. “Then, you need to work on this essay. It needs to be good, Hayley, and as it stands right now—”

“She'll be working on it,” Julie said. “She's had a bit of trouble getting organized this year, but she's back on track. Aren't you, Hayley?”

Hayley said nothing, merely studying the floor and then finally looking up and giving a shrug.

Tatiana said, “Yes, I see,” rather slowly, and the way she said it told Hayley she was unconvinced. But she swung her chair around to her bookshelves and she fingered through the college catalogues there. She said, “You'll find information online, too, Hayley. Let's talk again next week and see if you've made any decisions.”

“That's an excellent idea,” Julie Cartwright declared.

• • •

THEY SAID LITTLE
to each other on the way home. Julie announced, “Not a word to your father” and “I know what you're trying to do, Hayley.” To the first remark, Hayley puffed out a laugh between her lips and turned her face to the window. To the second she said nothing at all.

When they pulled up at the farmhouse, a car that neither Hayley nor her mom recognized was sitting in front of it. Hayley thought at once that something bad had happened, and she knew her mom was thinking the same thing. Julie slammed on the brakes of the old SUV and practically threw herself out of the vehicle. Hayley was following when the front door opened and Parker Natalia came out onto the porch.

Hayley's dad was right behind him, laboring along with his walker. Parker held the screen door open for him and gave Hayley a casual wave that made him look like a regular visitor. Julie Cartwright murmured, “Who on earth . . . ?” and then Brooke came out of the house as well. She announced, “He's here for
Hayley
,” in a way that made Hayley grow hot in the face. She quickly introduced Parker to her mom. He shook her hand, flashed his bright smile, and told them both that Bill Cartwright had invited him to wait. He had been driving along Smugglers Cove Road up to the state park for a hike when he saw the chicken barn with
SMUGGLERS COVE FARM AND FLOWERS
painted on its side. He'd remembered that was where Hayley lived, so he'd decided to stop by and say hi.

Bill Cartwright said, “Parker's been keeping me entertained with tales of his misspent youth. Brooke too. Eh, Brooke?”

“Oh right. What
ever
,” Brooke said. She slinked back into the house.

There was an awkward silence. Under different circumstances, the correct move would have been to keep Parker Natalia away from her father since no one on the island besides family knew exactly what condition he was in other than his doctor and Seth. But Parker himself had preempted that move, so Hayley wasn't sure what to do.

Parker took care of this by saying, “Nice pond up behind the big barn,” in a way that suggested a walk to the pond was what he had in mind.

Julie Cartwright said it would be a fine idea for Hayley to take Parker up to it to check it out, especially since it was a completely gorgeous autumn day, and
her
way of speaking suggested that Hayley get Parker out of her father's company.

Hayley wanted to say, “As
if
, Mom,” because obviously Parker had eyes and could see that her dad was ill. But instead she said, “Right,” and told Parker to follow her.

They walked past the barn in silence until Parker commented that the farm was awesome. Hayley said it was mostly work. Parker said still, it had to be nice to have so much land. There was nothing like this in Nelson. Nelson climbed steeply up from Lake Kootenay on its way into the mountains. No one had space to spread out anywhere.

“Just into the forest with the moose and the grizzlies,” he said with a smile.

She smiled in turn. He seemed encouraged by this because then he started to talk for real. He began by saying, “Listen, Hayley, I've got caught up in something and I'm not sure how it happened.”

Hayley thought he meant something illegal, and she couldn't figure out why he'd talk to her about it. But then he went on, and things got clear.

He said, “Isis Martin called me one night and asked if I wanted to listen to some music at that pub in Langley. She billed this place as an English pub and asked if I wanted to see it. I said sure because I wasn't doing anything, so we went.”

They'd reached the pond. Hayley figured there was no point in indicating its various beauties, which were limited. The perfect blue sky and some dazzling cumulous clouds were reflected in the water, but what did it matter since seeing the pond had obviously just been an excuse?

Parker was continuing. “I don't think I gave her any ideas that night, but before I knew it, we were more or less a couple.”

Hayley cast a look his way and said, “Except you sort of did.”

“Did what?”

“Give her an idea.” When he looked blank, she continued with, “At the Djangofest concert at the high school? At intermission?”

At this, he looked extremely flustered. He colored deeply. He swallowed. “What about intermission?”

“You went outside? So did she? She followed you out and you guys—”

“I don't remember that.”

Hayley thought that was hardly a credible answer, sort of like a criminal saying “I don't recall” in court as a way of not lying directly about something. She said, “Well, she came back pretty much glowing and she said . . .” Hayley suddenly didn't want to go on as she remembered what Isis had said and why Isis had followed the Canadian in the first place.

He said, “What? Because what
I
remember is that I went outside to have a smoke. I always get nervous before I play.”

She shot him a look that said
like I almost believe you
. But then what did it matter what she believed? She said, “Look. Isis was sure you're gay—”

“I'm not—”

“—so she went outside to prove it. When she came back in, she laughed and said she was way wrong. I assumed you and her . . . Course, maybe she saw you with someone else, but what does it matter anyway?”

He said, “Me and someone else? No way. Anyway . . . this is gonna sound all . . . I dunno . . . but maybe she decided she wanted to hook up with me later and she was laying her claim in advance to keep
you
from . . . whatever.”

Hayley saw that he was going even redder in the face, and she had to admit that she found his embarrassment rather endearing. She found him appealing. And who wouldn't, with his glossy hair curling around his head, his dynamite smile, and his air of being just a little dangerous compared to the boys on Whidbey Island?

He ran his hand back through that beautiful hair and he said, “Look, I need to say this. When I got introduced to you, I sort of . . . This is
really
awkward.”

He seemed to be waiting for Hayley to say something, but what it was she was supposed to say, she didn't know.

He went on. “I looked at her Facebook page. She's got something like twenty pictures of her and me. Whenever I see her, she's got her iPhone and she's taking pictures and the next thing I know, there I am on her page. I don't get why she's doing this because I haven't exactly—”

“I think it might be Brady,” Hayley said, deciding to put Parker out of his misery. She explained the breakup Isis had gone through with her boyfriend in Palo Alto. “She doesn't want to look dumped. But then, who does?”

He looked enormously relieved. He said, “Oh. That's better.” Then he gazed at her with his deep brown eyes warm and said meaningfully, “I bet you've never been dumped, Hayley.”

It was Hayley's turn to color, and she felt from the heat on her face that she was going as red as a birthday balloon. “Everyone's been dumped.”

“I don't think so.” He gazed away from her to the pond for a moment and seemed to be gathering his thoughts. He turned back to her and said in a rush, “I want a chance.”

“To dump me?”

He laughed. “Boy, I said that wrong. I meant a chance to go out with you. I felt something when I met you and . . . well . . . I think you felt it too. What d'you say?”

Hayley wasn't unaware of the compliment Parker Natalia was paying her. It was twofold. There was the compliment spoken by the attraction of a dazzling young man to her. There was also the compliment of his honesty about the attraction. The second of the two—that honesty—was seriously compelling.

“I say okay,” she told him with a smile.

TWENTY-SIX

S
eth decided to do a little checking on Parker Natalia once Hayley told him that the Canadian had tracked her down on the farm. On his way to do a hike or something at South Whidbey State Park, the young man had claimed. But when Hayley included the information that Parker had also wanted her advice about getting clear of Isis Martin, Seth had his doubts. Something definitely didn't feel right about that one. Parker hadn't exactly been fighting Isis off with a whip and a chair.

If Parker was setting Hayley up for something, Seth wanted to protect her from the dude. That was what he told himself when he made the phone call to a number in Canada associated with BC Django 21. It turned out the number belonged to the bass player, a guy called David Wilkie.

Seth used music as his excuse, and it was helpful that David Wilkie had been in the audience at South Whidbey High School when Triple Threat had played. So he'd seen Parker Natalia playing with the group, and he wasn't suspicious when Seth asked him about the fiddler. Seth said that Triple Threat was thinking of taking Parker on permanently. He said he was calling to see if the Canadian was reliable.

David's answer was forthright but his tone was not. He said, “Oh he's reliable, all right.”

“Meaning what?” Seth asked.

“Meaning he'll turn up for rehearsals and he'll turn up for gigs. He's a great fiddler. Well, you heard that yourself.”

“And?” Seth said. “He says you guys dumped him for another fiddler. So if he was reliable and great and all that . . . ?”

“Hey, look. I don't want to bad-mouth the dude. Just watch him, okay?”

“Why?”

“Because sometimes he's trouble. I don't want to say more. Maybe he's changed. Just watch him.”

That set off all kinds of alarms. Seth wanted to know what David Wilkie meant. So he tried to probe, but all he learned was that BC Django 21 played regular gigs in Nelson, in nearby Castlegar, in Trail, and as far away as Kelowna, Kamloops, and Vernon. They were building a real following in B.C., and they would've liked to include Parker but “things didn't go that way.” Plus . . . well, he started messing around with their mandolin player's little sister and “Really, dude, that's all I want to say.” Then he added ominously, “Look at it this way. He's one hell of a musician and there's no question about it. But the deal is this: You're probably setting yourself up for trouble in more ways than one if you make him part of your group. That's all.”

That, Seth decided, was more than enough.