Part 16 (1/2)

That was over.

This fall, he had a sense of youth. He loved his job again, loved the expanse of the new house, loved the huge garage and the workshop and most of all the kitchen, where at last they had enough room for soft drinks to last the week and enough s.p.a.ce to sprawl out and enjoy each other.

And when Janie came down to visit, by her own choice, though she was not as happy and easy as her father wanted her to be, still, it was pure thanksgiving.

Thanksgiving without the capital T.

Generic everyday wonderful family thanksgiving.

They were together.

CHAPTER.

SIXTEEN.

Seldom had Reeve found his family mpre exhausting. Todd expected wors.h.i.+p of Heather. Megan expected discussion of her brilliant contributions to computer technology. Lizzie expected admiration of her fabulous new job.

Reeve wished he knew when their planes left.

Sunday breakfast seemed to last even longer than Thanksgiving dinner had.

Todd patted Heather and grinned like an idiot when Heather patted back. Reeve tried to be glad for his brother, falling in love and being happy, but he got sick when he thought how he'd killed it with Janie. Never mind how sick he got when he thought of returning to Boston and fending off Vinnie and Derek.

Reeve retreated to the 'little den, where the old furniture and the small TV huddled. To his dismay, Lizzie followed.

Reeve had omitted Lizzie from his radio talks; snippy older sisters weren't good talk show mate-'rial. But Lizzie had been part of the unraveling of the Janie mystery. She had helped make some crucial decisions.

Lizzie came in carrying a gla.s.s of ice water and the fruit bowl. Lizzie was very thin; she didn't even eat two grapes in a row. She closed the door firmly. ”We have something to talk about, Reeve. It's about Hannah.”

Fear lanced him. Did Lizzie know about the janies? But how could she know? She was a lawyer in California.

He did not want Lizzie to despise him.

He sat across from Lizzie, waiting for her to begin.

”As you know, the cult Hannah joined is based in California. Evidence began to appear that drug smuggling was the moneymaker that kept the cult going. My law firm has been involved. I happened to get access to the files.”

Reeve felt toasted. ”And?”

Lizzie frowned at her brother. She had especially good frowns. ”I do not want you to tell Janie.”

Not a problem, thought Reeve dizzily. I'll add it to the list of ten thousand things Janie is not going to allow me to tell her anyway.

”The cult,” said Lizzie, ”kept decent records, considering what a strange mind-set those people had. Among their off-the-wall beliefs was the-”

”Who cares what their commandments were? What about Hannah?” demanded Reeve.

”I found her.”

Sunday afternoon, Stephen was flying out of Philadelphia. Mr. Spring drove him to the airport. The family, including Janie, gathered for farewells.

How courteous Stephen was to Janie this time, his hostility laid to rest. He'd smiled h.e.l.lo when Janie, Jodie and Brian hauled in from Connecti cut. Now, as he and his father left for the airport, Stephen gave Janie an almost-kiss on the cheek. His lips did not touch her. Or maybe she had pulled back. She didn't know. ”Good-bye, Stephen,” she said. And then, uncertainly, ”I'll see you at Christmas.”

Stephen actually grinned. ”That'd be great, Janie.” This time his kiss landed. He got into the driver's seat. College kids didn't get driving time; they had to seize it during vacations.

Her father did not get into the car right away. He frowned slightly at the tires, as if the treads had chosen this particular moment to wear down. ”I won't be back from the airport by the time you leave, Janie,” he said.

A huge part of Janie grew up.

Because the sentence had nothing to do with airports. He was asking-as Sarah-Charlotte asked questions-without the question. He was asking her to miss him, too.

And I will, she thought. She flung her arms around him. Even though she had not planned the hug, it didn't surprise her that it happened so well and so fast. Dad's hug back did surprise her. It was a grateful hug; a let-my-breath-out-at-last hug. Janie started to say Thank you for having me, but it sounded like a guest speaking, not a daughter, and she heard herself say, ”Drive carefully, Dad,” and she knew how much older she was. Because that sentence didn't mean cars, either: It meant Don't you get hurt! I love you. Come home safe.

Janie and the Springs waved until- the car was out of sight. Reeve had accused her of being the brat who'd made this year so hard. It was true. Look how they offer themselves, time after time, while 1-4 pick out the blanket I'm going to hide in.

She followed the rest back indoors.

In one way, the new house was the same as the old: The family gravitated toward the kitchen, coming together as close to the refrigerator as they could get. Reeve had claimed on the air that her Spring parents were just clutter. Clutter was a good word for how the Springs lived. Everybody's everything was everywhere. But they weren't clutter.

The old tears, last year's tears, heated up behind her eyes. I'm so sorry, she thought.

Brian had been a.s.signed dishes. There were a lot after a huge Sunday dinner. (Brendan, of course, was at 'school. Different sport, same hours.) Brian sc.r.a.ped, rinsed and loaded. Then he filled the sink with the pots and pans and soapy water. When he was done, the dishtowel was soaked. Brian wrung it out over the sink, wrenching his fingers in opposite directions. Then he strangled it the other way, his expression brutal.

”What are you doing?” exclaimed their mother. ”Practicing murder?”

Brian blushed. ”I don't have a victim yet,” he said. He did, of course: Reeve. ”Just a style.”

”Stop it,” said their mother predictably. ”Don't talk like that.”

My mother, too, thought Janie. I'm here in my kitchen with my mother and my sister and my brother.

How thoroughly she had avoided their love. Stephen grew up, she thought. I wonder if I could ever grow up.

The family room where they sat was directly off the kitchen. Winter sun touched lightly on freshly painted walls. Thin shadows from each square pane of gla.s.s crisscrossed the carpet. Mrs. Spring had brought in the geraniums of summer, and pot after pot still put forth cherry-red handfuls of bloom.

For a moment it seemed like a dollhouse to Janie. The doll family was large, as doll families were, because you kept buying more.

She didn't need dolls anymore. She needed a parent. Janie said, ”Mom?”

Brian turned from the sink.

Jodie looked up from her term paper.

”Mom, I need to tell you what happened in Boston,” said Janie. Her tears rose up like a great and awful fountain, lifting, arching through her, spilling over.