Girls of July Read online

  The little boy started sobbing.

  Kate ran up to her, avoiding the rolling cans. “Let me help. How can I help you?”

  “No, I don’t . . .” The girl dropped one of the cans she was holding. “I can’t . . . can you get someone from customer service?”

  The little boy ran through the cans and slipped on some pineapple juice.

  “Oh, God!” the girl said. “Or watch him maybe?”

  Kate could do both. “Come here!” she commanded the boy. “Is that your sister? She is very busy with this mess you just made, so we are going to go get someone to bring a mop.”

  She didn’t know if he would listen to her. She’d never babysat and had no experience with young children. So she was surprised when he held out his hand. Kate took it. She marched him over to the window that said “Customer Service,” avoiding the still-rolling cans. “Excuse me,” she told the man there. “The cashier out there needs some help cleaning up a big mess.”

  She expected him to ask for details, and she didn’t want to say the little boy caused the mess, so she was glad when he said “Okay” just as Ray-Ray was making a break for it.

  “Whoops!” Kate grabbed his arm. “Hey, come on, let’s . . .” She looked around. Let’s what? He was still clutching the ball. “Let’s go outside and play with that ball while your sister— Is that your sister?”

  He nodded yes.

  “While your sister cleans up.”

  The boy looked up at Kate. Then, without a second glance back, he walked out with her.

  Kate was glad. She wanted to help, but she also wanted not to be in the way. The boy wriggled in her grip. She hadn’t really noticed him, except to see he was a boy. He was about five, with brown hair cut in bangs that spiked over his forehead, deep-blue eyes, and a shiny, slightly runny nose that was somehow more endearing than disgusting. With the hand not in hers, he clutched a red ball.

  “I’m Kate,” she said, tightening her grip on his hand. “And you’re . . . Ray . . . Raymond?”

  “Racecar,” he said.

  “Racecar?” He must be getting it wrong.

  He nodded. “Jupiter is the biggest planet.”

  “Why . . . yes.” She thought that was true. “It is.” She tapped the ball. She would buy it for him after all this was over. Who knew if she’d have money in the future, but for now, she could afford a bouncy ball. “Do you know what planet is that color?”

  “Mars!” he said.

  “That’s right. You are going to have to hold very tightly to that ball and make sure it doesn’t roll away in the parking lot. Can you do that, or should I?”

  “Me.” He clutched it closer.

  “Okay, but if you drop it, even for a second, it’s mine.” This wasn’t going to be hard.

  “Okay.” He squeezed it even harder. “Lizzie will be mad at me.”

  Lizzie must be the girl, his sister. “I did hear her tell you not to throw that ball.”

  “It’s boring,” the boy said.

  Kate wondered why he was here in the first place. Didn’t they have parents? But there must be some good reason.

  He said, “I had to come here because Mommy is sick in bed.”

  “Well, that was nice of Lizzie to watch you then. Maybe you should bring something to play with next time, like crayons.”

  “I always have to come.”

  “That’s tough.” The boy nodded. Maybe she should move him away from the traffic whizzing along Route 9. On the side of the parking lot was a scraggly area with weeds and wildflowers. “Do you know all the planets? Tell me while we walk over here.”

  “Mars,” he said. “And Venus. And Jupiter, and . . .” He stopped.

  Kate remembered a mnemonic. My Very Elegant Mother Just Sat Upon Nine Pins. But she wasn’t sure it would work if he couldn’t read. Could kids that age read? Also, it included Pluto, which had been a planet when the mnemonic was made up but wasn’t anymore. Unless you asked her dad. Pluto not being a planet got him almost as upset as tilapia.

  “Where are we now?” she asked, as a hint.

  “Earth!”

  “Right! And the one with the rings?”

  He threw the ball to her. “Saturn.”

  “Good. And . . . Nnnnn . . . ?”

  “Neptune.”

  “Two more.”

  Lizzie came out, looking a little sweaty and a lot disheveled, her uniform shirt covered in pineapple juice. Again, Kate noticed she was around Kate’s own age, maybe younger.

  She walked over to them. “Hey, Ray-Ray.” She pointed to the ball in Kate’s hand. “We’re going to have to put that back. I’ll get it Friday.”

  “Oh, I was going to buy it for him,” Kate said.

  “No, thank you,” the girl said.

  “But I want to,” Kate said. “He was really good. He knew most of the planets.”

  “He’s supposed to be good,” the girl said, “and he can learn to wait a few days in life. He’s going to have to. Some of us have to. We aren’t a charity.”

  “I didn’t say . . .” But the girl had turned away. “Okay. Sorry.” Kate started back toward the door, a warm flush spreading across her cheeks. Had she been inappropriate? She didn’t like to think so.

  Kate remembered once, when she was a little girl, her mother had given some old clothes to the housekeeper. The woman had refused. “Wrong size,” which made sense, because the housekeeper was tiny and Kate’s mom had an athletic build.

  Her mother had pressed, “Give them to your friends,” but the housekeeper had still refused. It had been dropped, but a few weeks later, the housekeeper was gone, and there was a new maid. Kate hadn’t thought about it. But now she wondered, was it because the woman had embarrassed her mother by refusing to accept the old clothes? Had her mother been inappropriate to offer them? The woman wasn’t a charity any more than this cashier was.

  That was silly. Kate just wanted to give the kid a ball because he’d been good. She’d have done it for a rich kid too.

  Wouldn’t she?

  Would people be treating her like a charity case if her father went to jail? Would she hate it? Or would she be grateful?

  She’d hate it.

  She didn’t look toward the cashier as she tossed the ball into the holder by the register. She fairly flew up the aisle, searching for the others, glad they hadn’t seen.

  She finally found them by the cereal.

  “Oh good, you’re here,” Ruthie said. “You can settle it.”

  “Me?” She hoped it wasn’t anything important. “Settle what?”

  “What’s your stand on multipacks?” Meredith said. “I think they’re a waste of money, not to mention too much packaging being bad for the environment.”

  “And I think we can’t all be expected to eat the same kind of cereal,” Spider said.

  Okay, nothing serious. She looked at the cereal aisle. Not much variety.

  “Could we just get two kinds?” Kate said. “After all, there are five of us.”

  “We could get a healthy kind and a less-healthy kind, like one for breakfast and one for snacks,” Spider said.

  “We should get some grits for Kate too.” Ruthie sought the round container.

  “Oh, I . . .” Kate was about to say she didn’t know how to cook grits, then thought better of it. Surely there were instructions on the box. She had this. “That sounds great. Do we have butter?” Because even someone who couldn’t cook knew that grits needed plenty of that.

  They picked out a few more items, then headed for the register.

  When they arrived, Lizzie was holding Ray-Ray’s hand, facing away from them, but even from behind, Kate could tell she was in tears. Her shoulders trembled. Kate edged closer to hear what they were saying. The manager said, “Go home now. Come back tomorrow without him, or don’t come back.”

  The cashier said something Kate couldn’t hear, and the manager’s face softened. “I know. I know all about your mother, but this is a business.”

 
Ruthie motioned them toward a stern-looking older woman who was ensconced by the register now. They started to follow her. Kate heard the girl say, “Please. You know I need this.”

  The manager began to repeat what he’d just said, and Kate could stand it no longer.

  “Excuse me. The boy didn’t knock over the cans. I did. I knocked into the display with my cart.” Behind her, she heard someone—maybe Spider—start to say something, then stop. “She was really helpful. She should be Employee of the Month.”

  The girl said, “You don’t have to say that. Please.”

  But Kate continued in her best debate-team voice. “This seemed like such a nice, friendly business.” She noticed Ray-Ray was now swinging from his sister’s hand. “But if you’d turn out a nice young woman like this, we might have to take our business to that other store we passed along the way. What was it called?”

  “Price Chopper?” Spider said.

  Ruthie and Meredith were putting the groceries onto the belt. Kate knew she should keep her mouth shut and help. Was she embarrassing them? Spider stood beside her.

  “We can’t have unsupervised children here,” the manager said.

  “I’m sorry,” the girl said. “My dad had a job today. I’m looking for a sitter.”

  “Oh, is that the only problem?” Kate asked, and then, realizing even as she said it that it was stupid, she said, “I can sit. He can come stay with me while you’re working.”

  “What?” the cashier said.

  “What?” Spider said beside her.

  “Don’t worry. I won’t let him get in your hair,” she said to Spider. To the girl, she said, “We have a beautiful lake. Can he swim?”

  “I can swim!” Ray-Ray said. “There’s water on Mars!”

  “You can’t swim,” the cashier snapped. “And there’s no water on Mars.”

  “There is!” Ray-Ray protested. “It said on TV.”

  “Well, then I’ll have to teach you. I have my lifeguard certification.” True. She’d gotten it at sleepaway camp, but she’d never used it. “Doesn’t that sound more fun than hanging around this”—Kate glanced at the manager—“nice but not exactly kid-friendly store?”

  “Yay!” Ray-Ray said. “I want to swim in a lake!”

  The cashier started to shush him, and Kate knew she didn’t want to accept the favor, just as she hadn’t wanted to accept the five dollars for the ball. Yet, was she supposed to let the girl lose her job? The manager said, “That would solve your problem, Liz.”

  “I love kids.” It wasn’t a lie, Kate told herself. She had enjoyed playing with her brother in that brief, radiant moment when he’d looked up to her. “Sometimes, you just have to let someone help.”

  “Okay, yeah, maybe.” The girl held out her hand to Ray-Ray. “Come on.” She started toward the door.

  “Don’t forget what I said,” the manager said.

  “How could I forget that,” Lizzie replied.

  The cashier was still checking them out, extra slowly, hanging on every word. Kate followed the girl out the door and into the parking lot. She was trying to walk quickly toward a beat-up blue Corolla, but Ray-Ray slowed her down.

  “Hey! Wait! Ray-Ray!” Kate caught up with them. “Let me give you my number.”

  Lizzie turned on her. “I told you, I’m not a charity.”

  “It’s not charity.” Kate squished her shoes around on the tiny red-flecked bits of gravel. “I really want to watch him. It will be fun.”

  “Are you a pedo or something? Why would you want to watch someone else’s kid?”

  “Why would you?”

  “I have no choice. My dad’s working, and my mom’s sick. I’m the only one he has.”

  “Okay.” Kate nodded. “I have some problems in my family too. I came up here to try and forget, but so far, that’s not happening. Maybe watching your brother would distract me.”

  “So you’re the charity now?”

  “Isn’t that your preference?” Kate noticed that Spider had followed her out and was standing a few feet away, probably to prevent her from doing anything crazy. Too late! “I’m offering to help as a fellow human being.” The girl avoided eye contact, staring longingly at the Toyota. Kate knew she should just walk away and enjoy the lake. Yet seeing this girl doing something useful with her life made Kate want . . . something. Something. Maybe if she did, she would feel less helpless than she felt right now.

  “I want to swim in a lake, Lizzie. Can we go tomorrow?”

  “No. Maybe Sunday, when I’m off. Because I never get a single minute to myself.”

  Maybe from debate, maybe from watching her father’s political maneuverings, Kate sensed that this wasn’t the time to dig in. It was the time to walk back.

  “Look,” she said. “It sounds like you’re super busy. I realize I’m being intrusive. If you don’t want my help, fine.” She started to turn around.

  “I WANT. TO GO. IN A LAKE!” Ray-Ray bellowed.

  “Shush!” Lizzie said.

  Kate turned back. “But let me just give you my phone number just in case you change your mind.” She fumbled in her purse for some paper and came up with a receipt for her checked bag. She turned toward Spider, who was still tailing her. “What’s the phone number?”

  Scowling, Spider provided it, and scowling some more, Lizzie took the paper from her.

  Kate knelt down beside Ray-Ray. “Maybe I’ll see you again one day.” She stood and walked toward the car where Meredith and Ruthie were already waiting.

  18

  Meredith

  Essay topic: So where is Waldo, really?

  NOT HERE. NO one else was here, and that was wonderful. Meredith inhaled deeply, smelling the scent of pines. She was walking to the lake for the first time, with Ruthie and Kate, even though she’d rather have gone by herself. At least the other two weren’t there. Britta was still nursing her dubious injury while Spider claimed to be tired. So 40 percent less noise.

  The three who remained were all intent upon being quiet, making their way down a trail blazed by generations of feet. The only sounds were the crunch of pine needles beneath Meredith’s flip-flops, Ruthie’s Birkenstocks, and Kate’s Tory Burch sandals, which even Meredith knew were too expensive to wear to the lake, plus the occasional crow’s caw. It was cool in the shade, and the slight breeze made Meredith shiver a bit.

  Ruthie was lagging behind. Kate gestured that they should wait for her.

  “No, no,” Ruthie said. “You young ladies go ahead. I have old knees.”

  Still, Kate slowed, and Meredith did too. She didn’t mind, caring more about the journey. She wanted to look at the lake more than swim in it, and mostly (it was hard to admit this), she hoped to see Harmon. This was more likely to happen in the woods than at the lake. She wanted to ask him about the picture he’d taken, the one of her. But they’d walked quite a distance, and so far, they’d seen no one.

  Suddenly, a branch snapped behind them. Meredith whirled. Was it him?

  No. Ruthie pointed to the culprit, a dazed-looking squirrel, struggling by a fallen pine branch. Ruthie laughed. “Poor thing!”

  But Kate was looking at Meredith. “Your face! Did you think it was a bear?”

  No, a boy, Meredith thought, a bit ashamed. She had come to relax, not to flirt like some girl in a Jane Austen novel waiting to sprain her ankle so a man could rescue her in the rain.

  But she laughed. “I didn’t know what it was! Guess I’m just a city girl.”

  “No bears around here,” Ruthie said.

  “Good,” Meredith said.

  “We sometimes see deer, but perhaps it wasn’t wildlife you were looking for.”

  Meredith shrugged. “I was just in a daze. It’s beautiful here.” Old people always thought girls her age were boy crazy.

  “It is,” Kate said, and they continued downhill, walking a bit sideways against the steepness until they finally saw the lake.

  It was everything Meredith had imagined, or perhaps it just
resembled the photograph in the ad, vast and blue with clouds, trees, and sky reflected in its depths, making it seem like a blue-and-white orb. Black-necked geese—Canada geese—explored the shores. It was quiet, as Ruthie had promised it would be during the week. They were completely alone, except . . .

  A girl’s laughter pierced the silence. “Oh my God! You are such an idiot!”

  “Like you never thought that! You think you’re so smart because you’re in college!”

  It was Harmon. Harmon in a tank top. And a girl, a pretty girl from what Meredith could see, with long, blond braids down her back. They were in the water, fishing.

  “Show me again,” the girl said.

  “I thought you knew everything.”

  “I know nothing about fishing. You were supposed to teach me.”

  Harmon took the pole from her and proceeded, Meredith assumed (she didn’t fish either), to demonstrate how to cast.

  Meredith turned away. She gestured toward some old, wooden Adirondack chairs on the opposite side of the waterfront. “Let’s sit over there.”

  “There are lounge chairs on this side,” Kate said.

  But Ruthie glanced at Harmon. “Yes, let’s.” She started to where Meredith had pointed. The others followed. They settled in on the chairs, and Meredith took out her book, Vanity Fair, by Thackeray, a book Britta had called a doorstop when she’d seen it on the plane. But it was light reading, the story of Becky (who was a bit like Britta, cute and flirty) and Amelia, two schoolmates searching for husbands, and, um, the Napoleonic Wars. And, yes, it was eight hundred pages long, but it wasn’t assigned for class. Meredith settled in, skimming the chapter headed “Vauxhall,” listening to Kate talking to Ruthie, until finally, her eyes were at half-mast and she could barely see the page, the sky, the birds . . .

  “Hey! Look!”

  Meredith’s eyes flew open.

  “You caught one!” Harmon’s voice. “Can you reel it in?”

  “I think so!” The girl’s voice was excited. She stepped back, pulling up the rod and trying to fight what was on the other end of it. Suddenly, she stumbled in the water. “Oh!”