Cal.
His eyes flickered, then he looked away from her. He seemed to sink into the bed, the tension in his body suddenly released.
“All right,” he said softly. “I can’t lose you, I can’t lose Jennifer. I’ll go.”
Michelle started back to her room, her hip throbbing, barely able to make her crippled leg function.
She had heard the fight, heard her mother screaming at her father. She had tried not to listen at first, but then, as her mother’s shouting suddenly stopped, she had gotten up and crept out into the hall. Still hearing nothing, she had moved painfully down the hall, stopping only when she was right outside their door.
And she had listened.
At first, she had heard only a low murmuring of voices, but couldn’t make out the words.
Then her mother was screaming, threatening to leave, telling her father she was going to take them all away.
Michelle, in the hall, had heard nothing then but the sound of her own heart pounding, felt nothing but the excruciating pain in her hip.
Finally she had heard her father. His words echoed in her ears:
Nothing about her.
She crept back to her room and got into bed. She pulled the covers up tight around her neck and lay there, her small body shivering, her mind whirling.
It was true. He didn’t love her anymore.
Not since that day when she had fallen off the bluff.
That was the day the good things had stopped, and the bad things had started.
All she had left was Amanda.
In all the world, there was only Amanda.
She wished Amanda would come to her, talk to her, tell her everything was going to be all right.
And Amanda came.
Her dark figure, like a shadow in the night, moved out of a corner of the room, drifted toward Michelle, holding out her hand, reaching out, touching her.
The touch felt good. Michelle could feel her friend drawing her close.
“They were fighting, Mandy,” she whispered. “They were fighting about me.”
“No,” Amanda said. “They weren’t fighting about you. They don’t care about you. They only love Jennifer now.”
“No,” Michelle protested.
“It’s true,” Amanda’s voice whispered, soft in her ear, but insistent. ‘It’s all happening because of Jennifer. If it weren’t for Jennifer, they’d love you. If it weren’t for Jennifer, you wouldn’t have fallen. Remember how they were teasing you? It was about Jennifer.
“It’s Jennifer’s fault. All of it.”
“Jennifer’s fault? But … but she’s so small …”
“It doesn’t matter,” Amanda whispered. “It will make it easy. Michelle, it will be so easy, and when she’s gone — when Jennifer’s gone — everything will be like it used to be. Can’t you see?”
Michelle turned it over in her mind, listening all the while to Amanda’s gentle voice, whispering to her, reassuring her. It all began to make sense.
It
If there were no Jennifer.…
Michelle drifted off to sleep with Amanda close to her, crooning to her, whispering to her.
And when she was asleep, Amanda told her what she had to do.
It made sense to Michelle now.
All of it.…
CHAPTER 22
As the week dragged by, June became increasingly upset. Several times, she was tempted to ask Tim Hartwick to change his schedule, and see her family sooner. But she resisted the temptation, telling herself she was becoming hysterical.
By the time Friday came, she wondered if it was too late. The Pendletons could hardly be called a family anymore. Michelle had withdrawn even further, going off to school silently each day, then returning home only to disappear into her room.
June found herself pausing in the upstairs hall too often, standing outside Michelle’s door, listening.
She would hear Michelle’s voice, soft, barely audible, the words undecipherable. There would be pauses, as if Michelle were listening to someone else, but June knew she was alone in her room.
Alone, except for Amanda.
Several times during those days, June tried to bridge the gulf that was widening between her and her husband, but Cal seemed impervious to her overtures. He left for the clinic early each morning and stayed late each evening, coming home only in time to play with Jennifer for a few minutes, then retiring early.
And Jennifer.
It was as if Jennifer sensed the tension in the house. Her laughter, the happy gurgling that June had grown so used to, had completely disappeared. She seldom even cried anymore, as if she were afraid to create any kind of disturbance.
June spent as much time as she could in her studio, trying to paint, but more often than not she merely stared at her empty canvas, not really seeing it. Several times she started to dig through the closet, to find the strange sketch she knew she hadn’t done. Something stopped her — fear.
She was afraid that if she looked at it long enough, thought about it hard enough, she would figure out where it had come from. She didn’t want to.
When Friday morning finally came, June felt suddenly released. Today, at last, they would see Tim Hartwick. And today, perhaps, things would begin to get better.
For the first time that week, June broke the silence that had lain heavily over the breakfast table.
“I’ll pick you up at school today,” she told Michelle.
Michelle looked at her questioningly. June tried to make her smile reassuring.
“I’m meeting your father after school today. We’re all going to talk to Mr. Hartwick.” “Mr. Hartwick? The psychologist? Why?”
“I just think it would be a good idea, that’s all,” June said.
• • •
Tim Hartwick smiled at Michelle as she came into his office, and gestured toward a chair. Michelle settled herself into it, then surveyed the room. Tim waited quietly until her eyes finally came back to him.
“I thought my parents were going to be here, too.”
“I’m going to talk to them a little later. First, I thought we could get acquainted.” “I’m not crazy,” Michelle said. “I don’t care what anybody told you.” “No one told me anything,” Tim assured her. “But I guess you know what I do here.” Michelle nodded. “Do you think I did something to Susan Peterson?” Tim was taken aback. “Did you?” he asked.
“No.”
“Then why should I think you did?”
“Everybody else does.” There was a pause, then: “Except Amanda.”
“Amanda?” Tim asked. “Who’s Amanda?”
“She’s my friend.”
“I thought I knew everyone here,” Tim said carefully. “But I don’t know anybody named Amanda.” “She doesn’t go to school,” Michelle said. Tim watched her carefully, trying to read her face, but there was nothing to
