Part 23 (2/2)

Penny stayed in control until we reached the ferry landing; then another soul took over. At first I thought Maledicta had come back, but when she didn't start cursing right away, I realized it was her twin.

Malefica reached across to the glove compartment and pulled out a fifth of vodka. ”Hey!” I objected. ”Hey, what are you doing?”

Ignoring my protest, Malefica spun the cap off the vodka flask and started guzzling the contents.

”Get out of this car right now,” Adam said -- a completely unnecessary piece of advice. I was already reaching down to unbuckle my seat belt.

But just then Malefica gasped, as if she'd been stabbed through the back of the driver's seat. She stiffened, and a new soul took charge of Penny's body.

The new soul was male -- and sober, in all senses of the word. Glancing at the vodka bottle in his hand, he let out an irritated sigh and shook his head. He recapped the bottle, and instead of putting it back in the glove compartment slid it temporarily under his seat. Then he turned to me and apologized: ”Sorry about that. Sometimes when they're very upset they get self-destructive -- or just plain destructive. I try to keep things from getting out of hand.”

His name was Duncan; he introduced himself as Penny's designated driver.

”Is Penny all right?” I asked.

”She's asleep right now,” Duncan said. ”I don't know how she'll be when she wakes up.”

”What about Maledicta and Malefica?”

”They're awake. But” -- and here he was speaking to a larger audience than just me -- ”they aren't getting out again until they settle down.”

The ferry arrived and opened for boarding. After we were safely parked on the car deck, Duncan got out of the Centurion, taking the vodka bottle with him; when he came back a moment later he was empty-handed.

”I'm sorry about all the turmoil you're going through,” I told him, after he'd settled back into the driver's seat. ”I wish I could make it easier, but I'm not really sure what to do.”

”You've been through this yourself, haven't you?”

”Not me personally. I have an idea what Penny's experiencing right now, but I don't really know, firsthand.”

”Well then,” said Duncan, ”do you suppose you could let her talk to someone who does know?”

It was such an obvious suggestion that I was amazed I hadn't thought of it myself -- and I knew just who Penny should talk to, too.

”I don't want to get involved in this,” my father said.

”It wouldn't have to be a long conversation,” I suggested. ”You could just, I don't know, give her a sort of pep talk.”

”A pep talk. . .”

”Yes! Just let her know, you know, that however frightened she is now, it all works out in the end. Like it did for you.”

”You don't know what you're asking, Andrew.”

He was right, I didn't know -- but ultimately, my enthusiastic ignorance won out over his reluctant wisdom, and he agreed.

When we got back to Mrs. Winslow's, Duncan woke Penny up. As soon as she realized she'd blacked out most of the trip home, she got very upset, and it was a while before I could calm her down enough to suggest that she have a talk with my father. In the end, though, she also agreed. I called out my father, and while he and Penny talked, I went inside and took a long stroll around the lake, which was very misty that day.

When I came back out, nearly three hours had pa.s.sed -- so much for a quick conversation. My father was wiped out.

”Did it go all right?” I asked him. Penny had already gone home.

”She's better,” my father said. ”For now.” Then: ”I'm very unhappy that you put this on me, Andrew.”

”Well,” I said, ”it's all over now anyway, right?”

”No,” my father said. ”I don't think it is.”

The next morning, Penny returned to her job at the Reality Factory as if she'd never left. At first Dennis tried to tease her about her week-long ”vacation,” but she was so matter-of-fact about it that he soon gave up. And by midafternoon, having observed how easily Penny picked up the thread of her work, Julie seemed to have forgiven her her unexcused absence. ”Say what you want about her,” Julie remarked to me at one point, ”but she sure can write code. . . So I take it things are better?”

”Better,” I conceded.

”Good,” said Julie, and patted me on the shoulder.

After work that day, Penny came up to me and asked, somewhat hesitantly, if she could ”talk to Aaron some more.” The request caught me by surprise, but my father seemed to be expecting it; he was already waiting in the pulpit. ”Tell her yes,” he said. So I took another stroll around the lake, and my father and Penny had another lengthy ”pep talk.”

. . . and the next day, another. Each succeeding conversation left my father more drained, but by Friday night he reported what sounded like real progress. ”She's going to make an appointment with Dr.

Eddington next week,” he told me. ”She's going to start regular therapy.”

”That's great!” I said. ”So the worst is over, then --”

”No, Andrew, it's just starting.”

”I'm sorry. . . I know she's still got a lot to go through, but --”

”You don't have the first inkling!” my father snapped. ”This is. . . I know this situation isn't entirely of your own making, Andrew, but I still really resent being made a part of it. Certain things I just don't care to relive.”

I apologized, of course, but secretly I was still gladdened by the thought that, whatever hurdles lay ahead for Penny, my own life was starting to return to normal.

On Sat.u.r.day around noon I ran into Julie on Bridge Street, and after some initial awkwardness, she invited me to lunch. While we ate I filled her in on what had been happening -- it was much easier now that I actually had something to tell her -- and when I finished, she told me she was sorry for the way she'd been acting.

”I can see where this must have been a hard week for you,” she said.

”It's all right, Julie,” I told her. ”I know it was hard for you too, feeling left out. . .”

”Well. . .”

”Adam told me you were jealous.”

Julie blinked. ”Jealous,” she said.

”In a special-friends kind of way,” I added.

”Jealous. Huh.” Julie tossed her head, in what might have been a sideways nod. ”Oh- kay.”

”So how are things with your mechanic?” I asked, trying to sound positive. ”Reggie.”

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