A.N. Thanks go to my longsuffering Beta whose advice I did not always take but which was always appreciated. The final version is better because of it and I hope you agree with that assessment, at least, Lisa. The mistakes are all mine, of course.
1:15 p.m.
Kirsten walked into the kitchen to the sound of the teakettle's two-note moan. A mournful sound that made her think of a lost soul. It had been a Chrismukkah gift from Seth who'd thought it cool and very new age. The sound was distinctive; but even after four years, she still had to stop and think to identify the wailing sound coming from her kitchen. Sandy delighted in telling anyone who asked that it was the anguished moans of former dinner guests. The first time Ryan asked, Seth told him that their house was built on top of an ancient Indian burial site.
She turned off the gas under the kettle and finished toweling her hair dry. The four hours of sleep she'd gotten since leaving the hospital were not enough but would have to do for today. The shower had gotten her going and now tea would allow her to face the new day – a definitely brighter new day. Sandy's report on the visit by Seth's doctor this morning was very positive.
She poured water over her teabag and let the sweet odor of apples and spices envelop her. A squeeze of honey and all would be right with the world. She cinched the white terrycloth robe tighter, like a warrior about to go into battle and considered the kitchen telephone. She'd already checked her cell phone for messages and the laptop in her bedroom for emails. Her last task before dressing and heading into the office for an abbreviated workday was to listen for messages there.
With relief she found that she had only two:
"Your first new message was received from an unknown number, today, at 10:45 am."
"Mrs. Cohen, this is Anna . . . Anna Stern. Ryan said you'd be home this morning. I talked to Ryan before and after first period. He's not doing well this morning . . . Ryan said he didn't want to worry you guys when you've got Seth on your minds; but he seems to be in a lot of pain. He confessed to me that he hasn't been taking his pain meds. I think it's stupid that he's staying in school after his fourth period test just so you won't know that something's wrong with him. I hope you don't mind me calling, but Ryan isn't looking out for Ryan. Bye. " Kirsten heard a sigh before the connection was broken.
"Your next new message was received from an unknown number, today, at 12:45 p.m."
"Hey, this is Luke Ward. I'm not sure who's home today but I had lunch with Ryan a little while ago and something is off with him. He didn't eat anything and said that he'd been cold all day . . . he couldn't get warm. I found him asleep in the sun wearing a sweatshirt and it was, like, 70 degrees on the terrace! I think he's in more pain than he admits, too. He was walking real slow and stiff at school. I don't know why the hell . . . sorry . . . he's staying after our history test fourth period. He should get out of here! Don't tell him I called. He'd kill me as soon as he felt better." Kirsten heard a smile in Luke's voice as he disconnected.
Kirsten stood at the window looking out over the pool before returning the phone to its place on the wall. As she walked back to the master suite, she pulled her cell phone out of the pocket of her robe and dialed the hospital. She needed to know if Sandy had noticed anything when he drove Ryan to school.
Seth answered. "Seth, put your dad on please." She hadn't thought this through. She should have called Sandy's cell. I can't ask Sandy questions about Ryan with Seth there. "I need to talk to him for a minute."
"Hey, mom. Two calls in less than an hour, impressive!"
"Seth, this is important. Put your dad on."
"Sorry to disappoint, Dad's on an ice-cream run for me to the cafeteria." Seth didn't sound disappointed at all.
"Ice-cream? You're not having your tonsils out again." She smiled at the memory of Seth at six years old during his only hospital stay. "No using your bed for a trampoline and no wheelchair races for you, this time. This time it's serious. How long has he been gone?"
"Spoilsport! You don't have to worry about me. At this point my only strenuous activity consists of the sadistic Nurse Mary, she of the basso profundo voice," his voice dropped an octave in imitation of her "walking me up and down the halls. She has a really perverse and disgusting interest in my bodily functions and gas production."
"Seth!" Kirsten brought out her Mom Voice.
"Okay, okay. Maybe ten minutes. He should be back soon." Seth's voice dropped. "Uh-oh, speak of the devil. Nurse Mary, the radiantly beautiful Nurse Mary, I should add, has just arrived!" His voice softened to a whisper only Kirsten could hear as he continued melodramatically. "She's come to put me to the question, 'Have you passed gas today?' and to take me on another death march."
"Seth, I don't want to keep you from your treatment regimen. Have your dad call when he gets back. Have a good walk." Kirsten gave him no sympathy. She disconnected and slipped the cell into the pocket of the suit jacket she'd laid out to wear. Ryan's test would be over in about forty minutes. She really needed to talk to Sandy.
Ryan closed the bluebook, pulled his pack from under the table, and zipped his pen into its outside pocket. He looked across the room to Luke, who'd stopped writing and appeared to be rereading his essay. Well, that was that.
Ryan was so tired that he had no idea how he'd done on the test. He thought it was probably a bad sign that he'd finished before so many of his classmates. What he did know was that he had a little free time before his next class and that an Americano might keep going him and warm him up. He pushed his chair away from the table, walked to Mr. O'Connell's desk, and deposited his test on top of the small pile of bluebooks that had already been turned in.
Before he could get away, Mr. O'Connell looked up from his book. "Mr. Atwood, a note came for you during the test." He handed Ryan a small Harbor School envelope and returned to his reading.
Ryan went into the hall and sat on a bench opposite one of the tall windows that faced the quad below. He held the envelope in his hands and read the return address imprinted in its corner again: Office of the Dean of Students. A note from Dr. Kim, Ryan thought. He hadn't done anything that would warrant a note from Dr. Kim.
He'd been sitting there pondering the summons when the light flooding in through the window was blocked and the note was thrown into shadow.
Ryan lifted his head to find Luke standing in front of him.
"What did old man O'Connell give you? You looked kinda green in there." Luke eyed the envelope curiously.
"It's from Dr. Kim's office."
"God, Chino. What does she think you've done now?"
Ryan made no effort to open the note.
"Well, you better open it and find out."
Ryan ran a finger under the flap and pulled out the piece of notepaper inside. "Well, at least it's not a formal letter." His apprehension eased as he opened the note and read:
Mr. Atwood,
Please come to my office after your fourth period class.
"It's signed by Dr. Kim." Ryan turned the paper over as though some additional clue to its meaning would be found on the back.
"You can't ignore a summons from the Dragon Lady." Luke said. "There may be a 'please' in there, but it's still a command."
Ryan refolded the note, put it back into its envelope, and placed the note in his pack. "You're right. I'll see you in PE." As Ryan rose to leave, Luke's hand on his arm stopped him.
"Not so fast, Chino. I've got some time 'til fifth period. I'll come with you."
Ryan stared at Luke and shook his head. "It's not your problem . . . whatever this is. I haven't done anything. I don't need any help." His voice was both defiant and doubtful.
"Can the lone samurai act. I'm offering to go with you, Ryan. Do you want me to come or not? Cohen's not available; so, I'll take your back today if you want."
Ryan hesitated, considering the sincerity he heard in Luke's voice. Finally, he nodded.
As the two boys headed up the hill toward the Admin Building, Luke remarked thoughtfully. "Besides, you might need a diversion if you have to make a break for it."
Ryan and Luke entered the Dean's outer office; and while Ryan spoke to Dr. Kim's secretary, Luke took a chair by the door. The secretary rang Dr. Kim and after a short conversation advised Ryan to be seated.
Ryan joined Luke by the door and slid his pack under the chair.
"All the better for a quick getaway." Luke said indicating their position by the door.
The intercom on the secretary's desk buzzed and Ryan looked up.
"You may go in now Mr. Atwood." The secretary stood and opened the door for Ryan.
Kirsten was sitting with Dr. Kim in the office's conversation area as Ryan entered. She held a white china teacup and sipped from it. The informality of the setting reassured him but why was Kirsten here?
"Is something wrong with Seth?" The question popped out before he could stop it.
"No, Ryan, Seth's fine," Kirsten reassured him. "I'm here to take you home." She set her teacup down on the coffee table and stood. "I explained to Dr. Kim that Sandy and I had reservations about letting you come today, but you were so insistent about not wanting to miss your history test that we gave in."
Dr. Kim seemed to be eating the test crap up and he was pretty sure she actually beamed at him.
That was somehow more alarming than the dean's disapproving face. "Sandy and I talked about it again today and we think that now that your test is over you should get some rest. You were at the hospital almost as many hours as Sandy and I were this weekend and you need to rest." Kirsten continued.
"I understand and completely agree, Mr. Atwood," a still beaming Dr. Kim added. "All the progress reports I've received from your teachers have been excellent. A few days off, assuming you keep up with your reading, should not cause you any problems. I'll notify your teachers. We all want you to be at 100% when you return."
Kirsten stood, thanked Dr. Kim and led Ryan out of the office.
Luke stood as Kirsten, followed by Ryan, entered the outer office. "Everything cool?"
Ryan gave him a slightly bemused smile and nodded.
"Ryan's going to take a couple of days off, Luke." Kirsten smiled warmly at Luke.
"Well, okay." Luke agreed enthusiastically. "I'll call you later, Ryan. I'd go see Cohen tonight, but I might run into Summer and I'm not one of her favorite people either today." He gave Ryan a knowing smile. "So long, Mrs. Cohen. Take care of yourself, man."
Ryan pulled his pack out from under the chair and followed Kirsten into the hallway.
"Do you need to get any books?" Kirsten asked fumbling in her purse for her car keys.
"I've got my history book here, but I should grab my English reader if I'm gonna be out two days."
If Kirsten noticed the qualification on the length of his recuperation period, she gave no sign.
"I'll be waiting for you right outside. I'm driving the silver Escalade. You won't have to do any stairs this afternoon."
From the coolness of the SUV's air conditioned interior, Kirsten watched Ryan walk toward her across the parking lot. His progress was slow and painful to watch. Luke had been right. He was walking stiffly, rather than with his usual relaxed, easy gait.
The day had grown steadily warmer and it seemed impossible that he could be comfortable in the sweatshirt he was wearing. He seemed to favor cooler, lightweight clothes like those T-shirts Seth called wifebeaters. This was totally uncharacteristic. Kirsten reached up and pressed the button that displayed the outdoor temperature on the small unit set into the ceiling of the SUV – 75F. She gave a small sigh as she flicked off the air conditioner and opened the automatic window on the driver's side. Her carefully styled hair would have to be sacrificed. Ryan would never ask her to turn off the AC. She would have to make the windblown look work for her.
It hadn't occurred to her that just getting into the big SUV might be a challenge for Ryan. She silently thanked Julie again for ordering running boards. Ryan opened the door and threw his pack into the back before grabbing the handgrip in the ceiling and pulling himself into the truck. He settled into the deep maroon leather of the passenger seat and pulled on the seatbelt.
"What do you think?" Kirsten gestured around the interior of the SUV.
"It's big."
"It's a company car." Kirsten was slightly embarrassed. "Julie ordered it for my dad. She thought it was an appropriate vehicle for the president of a major land development company like the Newport Group. She said he could use it for visiting construction sites." Kirsten saw the quick sidewise glance that Ryan shot her and chuckled. "Right. Can you imagine the reaction he would have received at any construction site he arrived at in this . . ." Kirsten was at a loss for words but she enjoyed the broad smile that momentarily brightened Ryan's face. "Dad hasn't been in it since Julie left the company. I have it until I get a new car."
"Are we going to the hospital now?" Ryan asked.
Sandy had warned her to expect this question. "No, Ryan. I meant what I told Dr. Kim. You need to rest and that's what you're going to do before you go up to visit Seth. First, though, I'm starving and need food. I know you just had lunch but teenagers are always hungry, right?" She glanced at him, but he was looking away from her. It was so hard to ever get him to make eye contact. She couldn't decide if he did it intentionally with her or if it was a learned survival mechanism.
She ignored his silence and continued. "I thought we'd have a late lunch at The Lighthouse. We can see how the food and service are holding up now that last week's grand opening hoopla is over. Sandy says they have great soups."
"I'm not exactly dressed for The Lighthouse." Ryan gestured toward his sweatshirt and jeans.
"Don't worry about that, Ryan. The rules don't apply to the owner's wife."
Ryan didn't ask again about the hospital or comment on her idea of a late lunch. They drove on to The Lighthouse in silence.
The valet took Kirsten's keys and gave her a ticket before driving the truck away. As they walked into the dimness of the restaurant, Kirsten knew immediately that one of Sandy and Jimmy's opening week problems hadn't been fixed yet – the temperamental AC unit was working overtime pumping cold air into the dining room.
"Mrs. Cohen, you've come to have lunch with us." The hostess greeted Kirsten effusively. "Where would you and your son like to sit?"
"This isn't . . .." Kirsten hesitated and then finished. "A day to eat inside, I think. " She gave the hostess an understanding smile and glanced at Ryan, whose arms were crossed as though bored by the whole exchange.
Oblivious to their conversation, he pressed his arms more tightly to his chest. His greatest concern appeared to be to mask the shivering that had started in his shoulders.
"A table on the deck, in the sun, would be good." Kirsten followed the hostess, with Ryan trailing after them. "It was a little chilly in there." The table the hostess led them to overlooked the harbor. "I wasn't dressed for that but with your sweatshirt . . .." She left the thought unfinished as they took their seats.
"No, the deck's better. I've been a little cold today." He admitted reluctantly.
Taking that as an excuse for motherly concern, Kirsten reached across the table and put the back of her hand against his forehead and then his cheek. "Have you felt feverish?" She asked before cupping her hand under his chin and lifting gently. "Ryan, let me see your eyes. I can always tell when Seth has a fever from his eyes." She stared into his blue eyes and frowned. "When did you take your last pain pill?"
Ryan drew back from her and glanced away. "Before lunch. Why?"
"Your eyes are different from Seth's."
"Blue?" Ryan suggested with a small smile.
"Well, yes, that, too. But I can't tell about a fever. When did you take your pain pill this morning?" When Ryan didn't answer, her frown deepened. "Ryan?"
"Sorry, I don't remember." Ryan was saved from further questions by the arrival of the waitress inquiring about drinks and offering to explain the day's lunch specials.
Kirsten placed their drink order before Ryan had time to ask for black coffee. "We'll both have tea, Earl Grey, with honey, lemon and cream." Kirsten held up a hand to ward off Ryan's objections and continued with her order. "I know what I'm having but what are your soups?" After listening to their choices, Kirsten said thoughtfully. "If you're coming down with something, Ryan, we should avoid the rich, cream based soups. How about a bowl of the chicken vegetable?" She took his shrug as a yes and continued. "And I'll have Mrs. Cooper's meatloaf." As the waitress walked away Kirsten settled back to listen to Ryan's complaints.
"Tea! I drink coffee - black." Ryan fumed.
"Tea is better for you if you're getting sick. Have you ever had tea with honey and lemon? You can put cream in too if you want although the lemon makes the cream curdle. It doesn't affect the taste, just its appearance. It will warm you up and be easier on your stomach than coffee."
"What's with the Mrs. Cooper's meatloaf? Why not Sandy's mom's?" Ryan asked grumpily.
"Mrs. Cohen is a wonderful cook. You'll have a chance to sample her cooking if I take her up on her offer to come out and watch Seth when he comes home from the hospital. The meatloaf I had at Jimmy's house was, however, the best I ever had. "But, I'll tell you a secret about the Cooper meatloaf. The recipe wasn't Jimmy's mom's. She never set foot in the kitchen except to bake cookies at Christmas. It's actually his grandmother's recipe. His mom made certain their cook had the recipe and prepared it. I always stayed to dinner when the Coopers were having meatloaf." She smiled at the memory. "I can't tell Sandy how I feel so that's one of the reasons why I'm sneaking off to have a lunch date with you today."
"How did you do on your test?" She smiled at his expression. "That good, huh?"
"I don't know. I barely remember taking it." He said absently. At the look on Kirsten's face, he hastened to add. "I mean, once I take a test I forget about it. I never have a feel for how I've done on them . . . good or bad."
Kirsten took pity on him. He'd told her what she wanted to know. "Your birthday will be coming up soon. You've almost made it to 17. This time next year you'll have two things to look forward to. You'll be counting down the days until you graduate and the day you turn 18, your Independence Day. The day you get out from under the thumb of the court.
"You'll be an adult and you can start making your own decisions. No one will be making them for you. What you want to do with the rest of your life, where you want to live, all that will be your decision. You can be on your own, have a place to call your own. Finally getting out on my own was a great feeling. It will be a very exciting time for you"
"A very exciting time." Ryan never looked up from stirring honey into his tea.
Kirsten went on. "Oh, and the confirmations for you and Seth to take the SATs were in today's mail."
Ryan paused before taking a drink of his tea and cradled the cup in his hands, enjoying the warmth. "I told Sandy I didn't want to take them again. Sandy thought my scores the first time were pretty good. Taking them again seems like a waste of my time and your money."
"I didn't know you felt that way, Ryan. When Sandy gave me the forms, I just wrote the checks. It seemed like a good idea. Your scores were so good even after two years at your old school that they should be higher after the year of hard work you've put in at Harbor. Admissions officers look closely at that kind of thing if your transcript raises questions for them." Kirsten watched Ryan as she explained, wanting to reassure him. "It's not a waste of your time and don't worry about the cost. That's part of the responsibility we assumed when we let you stay. It's our duty as your guardians to make these opportunities available to you."
"I'm grateful for all you've done. I know that it's been way more than what was required of you. I understand my position and I'm sorry that I embarrassed you." Ryan's voice was soft and emotionless. "That stuff at the hospital, me freaking out and shouting at you and Sandy that way in the waiting room was wrong. Kirsten, you and Sandy had Seth to worry about. You didn't need my crap then. You needed to calm me down and I . . ." Ryan paused and watched the seagulls wheeling through the air above the deck before continuing. "I needed to hear you say you wanted me to stay. We can forget all that stuff because everything's cool now. Seth's going to be okay and things can go back to the way they were." Ryan looked at her, looked her in the eye, and said in a matter of fact tone, "Your responsibility for me ends on my birthday next year. Just like you said, I'll be 'independent' and 'on my own'. "
"I never said I wanted to go to college. No one in my family has ever gone. I'll get an after school job next spring. Together with what I can save this summer I should have enough money to be able to afford a place of my own when your responsibility for me is over." Ryan was looking at the bowl of soup that the waitress had set in front of him. He hadn't yet touched the spoon.
Kirsten's fork paused on its way to her plate. "Have you talked about any of this with Sandy? He just assumed that you'd want to go to college. It would be a big disappointment to him if you didn't try." She was confused and upset and wished that Sandy were here. The conversation was veering off in a direction that was filled with traps that Sandy would recognize but that she, from her background, could never spot. She decided instead to steer the conversation back to safer ground. "You should taste your soup. Just as ice-cream cools you off from the inside out, soup warms you from the inside out."
"How did Sandy manage it? Going to Berkley, I mean. He told me his family didn't have any money." Ryan picked up his spoon and took a tentative spoonful.
"He had a scholarship that only covered tuition. Everything else, housing, food, books he had to pay for himself. Just the cost of getting from New York to California was a challenge. So, he worked to support himself. He's very proud of doing that. He says it was good for him and he'd make Seth do it if he thought he could get away with it." Kirsten smiled. "Sandy knows, however, that Seth doesn't have any interest in working while he's in school and that his grandfather would pay for anything we didn't. I'm afraid that Seth won't benefit from any of the character building rewards Sandy's experience gave him."
"Then you guys shouldn't object to me getting ready for my independence by working my last semester. I'll need that money."
"But, Ryan, what about school and your grades if you work?"
"You said it just now, Kirsten. Sandy thinks going to school and working build character."
"That was college . . . not high school! Your senior year of high school should be special. It shouldn't have the distractions work brings." Kirsten's fears were coming true. This conversation had spun out of control. Ryan had mapped out a life for himself that she and Sandy were completely ignorant of. How had they misread each other so completely?
Ryan stared at Kirsten in confusion. "What's the difference except that I'd be the one doing it? I need that extra time to get ready to be independent . . . to be on my own. That's what I'm supposed to be working toward, isn't it? The few jobs I can get won't pay much and I won't be able to work many hours until I'm 18, so I can't wait." Ryan hurried on. "When I'm out of high school I can look for a job in construction. I've done it before. I liked it and I know people in the industry who, I think, might help me. If I'm lucky I can even get into an apprenticeship program. Carpentry would be good." Ryan said thoughtfully. "It's not architecture but I'd be building things."
"Does that mean you're going back to Chino?" Kirsten watched Ryan intently.
"That's where all the people who can help me are; and it's a lot cheaper to live in Chino than Newport. Besides, everyone I know here will have gone off to college by the end of next summer. You guys will have done your duty . . . and more . . .. It'll be time for me to rejoin the real world.
Kirsten got it then as she flashed back to her senior year in high school and her plans. She remembered how happy and excited she'd been at the idea of getting away from Newport and the family and being on her own. The reality of what "independence" and being "on your own" meant for Kirsten Nichols and what in Ryan Atwood's experience they meant washed over her in a series of disorienting waves. She thought of the allowance that appeared in her bank account on the first day of each month; the credit card and tuition bills that had gone straight to an accountant for payment; and the condo three blocks from UC Berkley that Caleb had insisted on buying for her. Overlaying her memories, like a double exposure, was the picture of a kid with only a backpack, alone on a street corner. At the end of a day that was fast fading into twilight, the boy held in his hands a dwindling supply of coins. Coins that he was feeding into a payphone in a fruitless effort to find a place to crash for the night. Ryan had mapped out a future for himself that made him dependent on no one but himself.
Kirsten uneaten lunch had grown cold on her plate. "The soup must have been good. It's all gone. How are you feeling?" She asked him.
"Yeah, it was okay." Was Ryan's only answer.
"I'm going to take you home now." She held up a hand. "You're going to take a nap. I know you're not five but that's what's going to happen. Either Sandy or I will take you up to the hospital later. But you're going to get some rest first."
Ryan appeared ready to argue but instead merely pushed back his chair. "Okay, so when?"
Kirsten blinked at him.
"When can I go to the hospital?
"I'll leave that up to you, Ryan. You can call me at the office or call Sandy at the hospital when you wake up and one of us will pick you up. But I don't expect to get any calls before 5:00 p.m. Understood?" Kirsten signed the check for the waitress and stood. "Well?"
"Yeah, I get it . . . two hour nap, minimum. What if I can't sleep?" They were both on their feet heading for the deck's exit on the way to the valet station. Ryan recognized Kirsten's look and repeated. "Two hour minimum. Got it!"
The echo of her son in Ryan's voice caused Kirsten to catch her breath. What are we going to do, Sandy?