All About B.A.D. (16 page)

It was a quiet drive down the lane to the Donahues’. The headlights bore a hole in the tree-blanketed corridor, darkness absorbing Lilly’s light banter and Conner’s sleepy sighs.

Bernadette searched the inky passageway for familiarity, but it was too dark to see.

Eventually the denseness thinned out into a large field at the beginning of the Donahues’ property. Their house was just beyond. A dim beam of light was barely visible. Shivers prickled Bernadette’s skin. What had taken little courage to leave demanded much for a return.

“Here we are. You ready, BAD?”

“Yes and no.” 

The car’s crunch on the gravel drive stopped a few feet from the steps; a figure appeared in the doorway behind the screen. Holding tight to her son, Bernadette eased from the car. The man crossed the wooden planks and met her halfway.

“Welcome back, Bernadette. Let me help you with your things.”

“Good evening, Mr. Donahue.” Lilly’s voice sounded light in the darkness. “I hope we aren’t too late. Mama insisted on some of her own visiting before bringing them home.” 

Mr. Donahue nodded. “Go on in. Mrs. Donahue is waiting to see you all.” The man’s eyes searched the faces of his daughter and grandchild.

“Let’s go inside, Papa. We can get our things later, okay?”

Another figure stood at the door without a word. Going up the steps, Bernadette felt a large hand on her shoulder, tightening and releasing it. The fingers moved to feel the head of her sleeping son. Her father’s touch was all she could hope for and it helped her move forward.

“Hi, Mama. It’s really good to see you.” Bernadette couldn’t read the face. She walked over and, using her free arm, quietly hugged the woman who stood with her arms at her sides.

“Hello, Bernadette. Nice to see you too.” Her flat statement was accompanied by a slight giving way in her body and a single pat on the back. “Looks like you have a full load.”

“This is Conner, Mama. He’s had a long day. I guess he couldn’t stay awake any longer to meet his grandparents.”

The older woman winced at her words. “I fixed him a place in your old room if you want to lay him down.”

“Maybe I should do that. He’s a pretty hefty boy.” Bernadette’s heart leapt at the invitation in the simple phrase: “fixed him a place”.

“Yes, I can see that he is. I always favored a plucky baby.” Still no smile, but the words were ushered out in a softer voice.

“I imagine we’re all tired from such a long day. Mr. Donahue, get their things while Bernadette gets the baby settled in. Lilly, are you thirsty? You can join me for a cup of coffee. We’ll all need to get a good night’s rest. There’s much to be said in the morning.” 

Declamatory sentences with no questions made certain everyone did what was expected. Mr. Donahue headed out to the car, Bernadette and Conner walked into her old bedroom, and Lilly and Mrs. Donahue headed toward the coffeepot. It would be a quiet night once everyone was in place.

Nothing in the room had changed except the addition of the crib from the attic. Clothes, books—everything was exactly as she had left it. It was clean and neat as if a covering had been layered over it the last eighteen months. A year and a half! It may as well have been twenty. 

Exhausted, she had slept later than usual and thought Conner must be doing the same. Bernadette found the crib empty. Dressing quickly, she headed toward voices. Conner was sitting in what had been her highchair, his grandmother feeding him spoonfuls of Cream of Wheat. He was clearly enjoying himself. With their backs to her, Bernadette stopped and watched the scene through the doorway. 

“He favors her, doesn’t he, Papa?”

“Yes. Eats like her, too! She used to love this morning meal. He seems to have taken to you.”

“Either that or he was really hungry.” 

“He went right to you; let you feed him. That says a lot as far as I can see.”

“He
is
pretty cute; got some spunk. I’ll admit that.”

Conner’s lip-licking, nose-wrinkling, arm-waving gestures were all about energy and acceptance, drawing his grandparents into his antics, making wiggle room in their hearts. Mr. Donahue mimicked Conner’s different faces, resulting in broad smiles and a little chortling.

“Conner, we always wanted a boy, we just thought you’d come with marriage and a daddy.” 

“Now, Mother…” Mr. Donahue, hesitant for the light-hearted moments with Conner to end, tried stemming his wife’s protest. 

“Don’t you care what folks said? And no goodbyes. How can your child leave without saying goodbye?”

“I’ve said all I plan to say about it.” Mr. Donahue’s words, quick and tense, reflected his disappointment in the change of mood.

There wouldn’t be a perfect time to interrupt; Bernadette threw back her head, raised her chin, forced a smile and walked into the kitchen. “Good morning! It looks like I’m the last one up.” She bent to kiss her baby’s cheek, receiving some of the sticky mixture on her lips. “Hmm. Yummy, Conner. Thank you for sharing that.”

The baby stopped briefly to smile at his mother before resuming his smacking.

“Thanks, Mama, for getting his breakfast.”

“He was an early riser; ready to get going. Fix yourself some coffee.”

Bernadette hugged her father and poured herself a cup. 

“I need to get started outside. Bring your son out later if you want. He’s probably never seen a cow.” With that, her father left for the barn, leaving behind an awkward silence.

Bernadette had no idea how to begin. She leaned over and kissed her mother. The silence grew louder.

“I’ve truly missed you, Mama. I wanted to write so many times but I just didn’t know what to say, especially when things didn’t turn out like I dreamed they would. When Conner came along, well, it just got harder.” It was not what she thought she’d say or even how she would say it, words tumbling chaotically without much small talk.

Mrs. Donahue continued looking at the child, feeding him, not changing expressions. “My greatest fear for you was suffering. But I guess we all have had enough of that.” 

“Oh, Mama. I’m sorry for any hurt I caused you and Daddy.” Tears filled her eyes and a lump dammed up her throat.

Her mother, never looking up, continued in a tight voice. “I never understood what you wanted or why you did what you did. Maybe you’ll take the time to explain it someday. All I need now is to know about your life since you left. That’s a big hole that needs filling.”

It was as easy and as difficult as that. Bernadette had either been forgiven or had been given a graceful reprieve. She had wanted both. During the remainder of her visit she shared some of the missing months, leaving out details such as her bond with Wanda, the name of Conner’s father, and the times she was close to hunger and depression.

Conner rubbed his nose in the softness of the shirt, leaving a thick, slimy trail. Using his sleeve, the man swiped at the remaining mucous and continued talking.

He took the child’s hand and put it on the mare’s coarse mane.

“What do you think about that, Conner? We’re gonna have to grow you up a little so you can ride on her back one day. You’ll like that, I guarantee it.”

The child watched the man speak as if memorizing his face. All around him was newness: unknown people, smells, animal sounds. Constantly twisting, wiggling from left to right, soaking it in as his grandfather toured him around. 

“Quite a pair, those two.”

The women sat outside, their hands busy over the bowls in their laps, separating the peas from their hulls. Working steadily, Mrs. Donahue kept one eye on the pods and another on the duo. 

“Your father always wanted a son. I guess he’s finally got one.”

“He seems so comfortable with Conner and Conner with him. My son doesn’t always warm up to folks quickly. You should ask the guy who drove us up here.”

Bernadette worked alongside her mama concentrating on their task. Not having to look at anything but the chore in front of her made exchanges easier. Carefully omitting the questions from the congregants of the Christ Fully Divine Church and comments from her quilting circle, Mrs. Donahue brought her up-to-date on events in Lone Grove. Changing geography, better economies, new families dotting the landscape. Clearly, Mrs. Donahue wasn’t excited about all the differences.

Bernadette glanced up and looked around their property. Everywhere was a sense of order. Something carved from nothing by hard work from calloused hands. She saw her father walking with her son, her mother bent over the bowl, talking about her town and neighbors. It was the same world she had walked away from. She felt grateful she and her son were still welcomed here, allowed to visit where shades of acceptance were slowly replacing shattered expectations. This place was sure and confident and static. It led her thoughts to her other home where walls were purple, talking was loud and unguarded, emotions were attached to embraces. Bernadette wondered how Wanda was doing.

The pain hit her with a force remembered from years ago. It had been from a man she had trusted. Her body burned with the memory. Back then, after all the tears were cried, the bruises healed, and the would-be baby buried, fury consumed her—an unnamed anger fueling her determination, propelling her to survive. She walled herself off from others and the potential for more hurt. Years later, struck by the realization of her self-enforced isolation, a bleakness and starkness of soul, she resurrected the power of will that before had saved her, transforming it into strength, gradually unfolding her heart, enlarging its capacity to be shared with many.

But now she was alone in the dark with another kind of pain. He would come if she called but he would need more reassurance, more comforting than she was prepared to give. She wished for the young woman and her son. The child brought her such joy. He would take her mind off the burning sensation flashing through her body. His mother would offer distraction in memories she evoked. As a duplicate of herself when she too was young, the older had much to offer through understanding the path both had chosen. If only she could share what she’d learned.

Pain sheared her from front to back. Wanda stumbled into the kitchen for the pills that would make it stop.

Mrs. Donahue met them as they approached the house.

“Bernadette, do you know anyone by the name of Court? A man called here for you and I think he said his name was Court. Anyway, he wants you to give him a call back.”

Bernadette took the scrap of paper where information had been hastily written, and hurried into the house. Nervously, she poked out the numbers.

After a dozen rings and no answer, she hung up. If it had been important, wouldn’t he have been around? 

“How long ago did he call, Mama?” 

It had been over an hour. Plenty of time for him to find other things to do. She would try again later. 

Lilly insisted she and BAD drive around Lone Grove to see the unfolding of great changes. They stopped in Pop Walker’s for a soda and ate teacakes with Mrs. Griffith. They waved at the ladies in the Hair and There and watched construction on the lake. Everyone was congenial and courteous, skirting the obvious. Both women knew a few folks would have a fresh well of gossip once Bernadette was gone. What the locals saw was the same steely-eyed, independent girl from her childhood. Headstrong, defiant, beautiful, voluptuous BAD.  

“We need to head back, Lilly. I want to check on Conner. He can be a handful, especially if he wakes up hungry.”

Lilly steered the truck and questions back toward the Donahues. “How’s it going with your folks? Any breakthroughs?”

“It’s been a good visit, as much as it could be. They’ll never approve of what I’ve done but they’ve accepted Conner. They seem to really like him, especially Papa. Maybe that’s enough for now.”

Lilly smiled. “Just give it more time.”

Bernadette knew for certain that what she had the most of was time.

“BAD, Mama wants all of you to come for lunch tomorrow. She says it will be an easier way for everyone to say goodbye.”

“She’s probably right. Tell her we’ll be there.”

When Stephen arrived earlier than expected the following day, the only one surprised was Bernadette. Upon exiting his car he was offered a plate of food and a place at the table. That he immediately accepted was a bigger surprise. He didn’t seem eager to get on the road. Bernadette was now certain he had been forever emotionally damaged by the trip with Conner. 

Stephen, as an unknown, was bombarded with questions.
Taken aback by all the attention, at first his answers, though polite, were reticent. Eventually softened by talk of things familiar, he slipped into an easy dialogue with Lilly. Theirs was a comfortable banter, dotted by nervous laughter, secured by unflinching eye contact. After everyone else had left the table for various reasons, the two of them continued until Mr. Donahue made noises about getting back to feed the mare. Both Stephen and Lilly, surprised at the hour, were still reluctant to make movements to leave.

Items were transferred from one vehicle to another. Words of gratitude were offered along with strung-out farewells and a few tight hugs. Bernadette left Lone Grove a second time, this one with goodbyes, but still no tears.

The trip back to Galveston was much different than the one to Lone Grove. Conner was content playing with toys arranged around his seat or listening to his mother’s voice. A little ointment from Bertha had soothed his aching gums. Anticipating trouble, Bernadette first sat in the backseat beside him. After a quick stop, she switched to the front passenger’s seat halfway through the trip.

“So, you and Lilly have been friends for a long time, huh?”

Amused, Bernadette fed his curiosity with stories about their growing up together. The remembering and telling reminded her how much a part of each other’s lives they had always been. These thoughts transitioned to Wanda and their relationship. She shared with Stephen how deeply she admired the unpretentious woman who had become her mentor, her friend.

“Stephen, Wanda is doing well, don’t you think?”

“I actually thought she would be stronger by now with a better appetite. Some days she is definitely better than others. Her dosages are up on her meds.”

“But you said she was getting better.”

“I’m just telling you what I think. She puts on a good show when I’m around and won’t answer my questions. To tell you the truth, I’m worried about her. I take her back in a week for a blood test and a checkup. We’ll know more then.”

Bernadette resolved to get real answers for tough questions when they got back. If Wanda Payne was going to fully recover, Bernadette would do everything she could to make it happen as soon as possible.