I sit up and hold him. “Of course, of course. I’m sorry. Of course.” It’s my turn to soothe, my turn to rock. I hum my solo and sway gently.
Something awful has him. He’s running away as much as I am. I should leave right now, but then I would be the Beast. He needs me. I’m here. No way am I letting go of this. I kiss his hair and sing, Oh, the glory of that bright day
When I cross the river Jordan.
The angels playing banjo
And the good Lord on the fiddle.
He starts to cough.
I stop singing and place the back of my hand on his forehead. “Are you coming down with something?”
He doesn’t jerk away this time. “Only you.” He tips his head so he can kiss my palm.
I pull him to his feet. “I should walk you home tonight.”
“I’m just whipped from this afternoon.” He steers me in the direction of the Mermaid.
“You’re still not telling me what you and Blake are doing tomorrow?”
“Classified.”
We cross the street to the hotel. Great. Leah and Meadow are sitting on the steps. I don’t want to kiss Derek good-bye with them watching. If we’re alone, he might slip up and use “love” again.
They jump up and run at us. “Thank goodness you’re here.”
“What?”
Meadow glares at Derek. “Sarah’s AWOL with Blake.”
Derek curses. “He was going to the bars.”
Leah nods. “We got a weird call from her. She was definitely drunk. Didn’t make a lot of sense. Told us not to wait up.”
Meadow puts her hands on her hips. “She’s a big girl. She can do what she wants, but she’s got to get back here before our wake-up call. If they’re in your room—”
“In our room?” Derek gets upset. “She can’t go in our room.” He realizes how weird that sounds. “Amabile rules. Besides, I’ve got the key. I’ll go find them.”
I don’t let go of Derek. “I should come with you.”
“No.” He squeezes my hand and lets it go. “Stay here in case she shows up.”
He flags a passing taxi and is gone.
I sit down on the steps, resign myself to worry. Stupid Sarah. Stupid Beth. Stupid, stupid me. Poor Derek. He has to save everyone tonight.
Half an hour later a taxi pulls up to the Mermaid. Derek gets out. I jump up. “You found her?”
“She’s in rough shape. I need some help.” He opens the door. Sarah was leaning heavy against it. I catch her before she kisses the pavement. Derek helps me lift the rest of her out and stand her up.
I look at him over Sarah’s head. “Thank you.”
“Blake’s a good guy most of the time. Not when he drinks, though.”
“I don’t mean this.”
He gets what I’m saying. “Don’t mention it.”
“Where’s Blake?” Sarah puts her face into Derek’s. “You’re not Blake.” She stumbles from Derek to me. “I promised Blake tonight.”
Derek lets go of her. “Blake was even more soused than she is. He was trying to unlock the door with his car keys. At least they didn’t do it in the hall. Can you girls manage her from here?”
“Yeah. You better get back. Kick Blake in the shins for us, okay?”
“He threw up and passed out in it on the washroom floor.”
“Gross for you.”
“Maybe waking up with his face glued to the floor by crusted vomit will make an impression.”
Sarah wobbles and groans. Crap. We better hurry. I turn away from Derek, and Leah helps me get Sarah into the elevator Meadow has waiting.
“Bye, Beth,” Derek calls after me.
Stupid Sarah. She ruined our see you laters.
The elevator doors close. Crap. Derek said, “Bye.”
Sarah puts her hand over her mouth.
Meadow says, “Hang on. Not here. Or we’ll all be banned from every future trip.”
Sarah sways.
Leah steadies her. “And Blake was drunker?”
I take Sarah’s head and arms. Leah and Meadow each take a leg, and we carry her down the creaky old hall to our room.
She makes it to the bathroom—barfs in the bidet.
We clean her up and get her undressed, and she barfs again. This time in the sink.
I’m brushing my teeth in the shower stall tomorrow.
It’s after one by the time we get settled. Our bus leaves at five. I’m pumped full of every hormone my body can create. It seems useless to try to sleep. I lie down anyway and try to relax. Stupid Blake. Stupid Sarah. I didn’t get to say good-bye to Derek.But it’s not good-bye. It’s just . . .
Later, babe—
Don’t say good-bye, love,
So I can dream of
The day you’ ll hold me close again.
Close my eyes,
And you will be there.
I swallow my fear
That you will fly too far from me.
I can hold on now
To your promises.
Forget all my questions—
Just believe. . . .
chapter 16
SEE YOU LATER
Next thing I know, there’s a choir mom outside the door, pounding hard. “We load in fifteen minutes.”
I roll off my bed and into our travel clothes—pink track pants and a white T-shirt with my comfy old choir hoodie if it gets cold on the plane. I dash for my turn in the bathroom. The place still reeks of puke. “Gross, Sarah! ”
I do what I need to and brush my teeth, using the shower faucet, then hand the place over to Leah. I stand over my bed, grab an elastic, and harness my hair. I stuff my nightshirt and toiletries into my suitcase. My makeup is in my purse. I can put my face on later. Who cares? We’re eating breakfast on the bus. I zip up my bag, and I’m good to go.
Sarah is a disaster. I get her bag packed while Leah dresses her. Meadow hogs up the bathroom.
Terri pounds on our door. “Let’s go girls. The plane won’t wait.”
A curse on 8:00 a.m. flights to Paris forever.
I grab my suitcase—give up on the elevator—haul the bag, bumpety bump, down the three flights of stairs. I dump it by the bus, turn to go back for Sarah.
And he’s there. Derek. Looking paler in the brisk morning breeze, huddling in his Amabile hockey jersey, trying to suppress that cough of his. It sounds worse. He’s holding a pink rose. He looks at my track pants. “I figured you like pink.”
I pull a face. “Meadow likes pink.”
He frowns. “Sorry.”
I take the rose and breathe it in. “But I love this.”
“I wanted to—”
“Thanks.”
“Last night—”
“Yeah.”
We move together, kiss for the last time in wonderland.
He whispers, “See you later.”
I drink him in. Our bodies wind together, and our lips move in harmony. I don’t let him go until the bus honks. “Later.”
The girls are whoo-whooing at me when I board. Crap. They all watched that exquisitely private moment. I realize how awful I must look. Derek didn’t even flinch. I make one of the younger girls move so I can have a seat by the window on his side. I press my face up to it and search for him.
He waves. Coughs. Waves some more.
Shoot. Shoot. Shoot.
I hope he’s not getting sick.
I eat a nasty packaged croissant with plastic chocolate in the center as the bus rolls down the Swiss autoroute. It winds along the lake and passes by vineyards. The girls start counting how many castle-like places we go by.