All Roads Lead Home (Bellingwood) (19 page)

Polly did and sat in front of a blank canvas, not
knowing what to do.

Beryl said, "Shut your eyes, all of you." Polly
shut her eyes
and listened
. "Think about a place you love. Look at the
colors, or the shapes. Are there people or animals? See the background in your
mind." She was quiet for a few moments,
then
said, "Now open your eyes. You may not make a perfect piece tonight, but
all I want you to do is enjoy yourself. Get a feel for the medium in your
hands, play with it on the canvas. Put color where you want it, put another
color where you think it should be. Draw random shapes or something which fits
with the color. Really ... all I want you to do is get the feel of touching the
canvas."

Polly picked up a light blue and moved it across the
canvas. It felt wonderful. She picked up a different shade and blended it into
the first, then continued to work. The house had gone quiet, except for the
girls working downstairs. She heard a low conversation across the room and
looked up. Beryl was standing beside Sylvie, moving her hand back and forth on
the canvas. "Yes," she said, "you're seeing it." Then Beryl
walked past Lydia and hugged her. "You're a good
grandma
,"
she whispered as she moved to Andy.

"
Oh,
Andy, I can always count on you. You should have taken
more art in college," she said as she picked up the canvas and turned it
so everyone could see it. "This is what I had to compete with while we
were growing up." Polly burst out laughing. Andy had painted a hideous
looking clown face.

"How is THAT some place you love?" Polly
asked.

"I know better. Beryl gets all artsy
fartsy
on nights like this. I have to remind her I hate this
crap."

"Whatever," Beryl retorted. "
You were pretty good.
If you’d kept
at it, who knows what you might have done.
But, a
t least we know what it
is. You are such a brat."

"Me?" Andy sneered. "I knew what was
coming tonight and I showed up. I think I'm the good girl."

Beryl stopped behind Polly. "What do you have
happening here, girlfriend?"

"I'm not sure? I got all caught up in the colors
and the way they worked together."

"Okay, then, that's perfect. Color it is!"

Everyone went back to their canvases and continued to
work. Deana and Meryl brought up four large canvas bags and set them in the
hallway, then returned to the basement. They continued bringing things upstairs
and chattering away.

Beryl said out loud, "Do we know anything more
about the Stevens murders?"

Polly looked up, she'd practically put the whole thing
out of her mind, but Lydia responded.

"Aaron called before he left Boone. The DCI is
still processing everything they found. There were fingerprints, but of course,
they don't know if they belonged to the girls, to someone else or the killer. They
don't match anything in the system, so that wasn't helpful. I don't know how
much he
'll tell me, but I doubt they
know any more now than they did on Wednesday."

Polly looked up, "Did they ever have a funeral
for the girls?"

"No," Lydia said. "They weren't sure if
they were dead, so I think everyone hoped someday they would finally show up. Rev.
Boehm will talk to Linda and Sandy about it. It’s so sad. I'm sorry their
parents aren’t here to be able to finally have closure, even if it was this."

Andy
spoke up
, "I suppose it's better to believe they figured
it out when they got to heaven and found the girls. We can't think about what
might have been, especially since they've died."

She
put her
brushes down and declared
,
"
I'm done
and I want something sweet to eat. When are we having dessert?"

Polly looked at her watch. It was ten o'clock. "Wow!
Where did the time go?" She put the sticks of color back in their slots,
then stood and stretched. "
Ow
, my butt,"
and she arched her back, stretching again.

Beryl gathered the canvasses and stood them up against
the hallway wall. Andy's clown was a hideous
face,
Lydia had drawn a large baby quilt, filling in squares with soft pastel colors.
Polly's attempts at blending colors looked silly to her, but the others seemed
to like what they saw. Sylvie's charcoal was rough, but Polly saw waves
crashing on a beach.

Lydia said, "Beryl, do you see what I see?"

"Sylvie?" Beryl asked, "Have you ever
taken any art instruction?"

Sylvie laughed.
"Of course not!
I
don't have time for that and I couldn't afford it anyway."

Beryl said, "Well, honey, you've got some talent.
You and me?
We're
gonna talk."

She walked into the kitchen muttering, "I hate it
when talent hides. Schools don't know what they're doing.
Stupid
teachers, stupid schools."

The rest of them looked at each other and giggled, not
knowing quite what to say. Then Beryl called out, "Sylvie, could you help
me in here?"

Sylvie jumped up and ran to the hallway and into the
kitchen. There was some giggling and muttering, enough so
that Lydia
called out, "Do you need any
more help?"

Sylvie called back, "No, we've got it!
Just a minute!"

Deena and Meryl quietly walked into the room and
folded up the easels, setting them aside. They carried all of the supplies out
and downstairs and then came back and folded up the tarps. While they were
working, Polly looked at the other two women in the room, "Is it just me
or do you feel useless?"

Andy laughed, "It's not just you. Can we help,
girls?"

One of the girls said, "Oh no! You sit still."

"Alright," Lydia said, as she lifted one
foot and then another while the tarp was pulled away, then folded up. "Are
you still alright in there?" she called out again.

"Hush your mouth, woman! Sit still for once in
your life." Beryl's laughter rang out.

"I'm not sure if I know how to do that, but I'll
try," Lydia said.

The girls had removed the tarps and tossed the rugs
back around the room. The hard wood floor looked comfortable enough, but the
random piling of the brightly colored rugs certainly kept the room looking
warm. After they finished, they brought the coffee table back in and placed the
magazines back on it. One stacked them neatly, the other reached over and gave
them a push so they scattered. "Trust me," she said to her friend as
they walked out to the kitchen.

Sylvie walked into the room with the platter Polly had
carried in. Adorable little pewter towers ranging from a quarter inch tall to
two inches settled into indentations in the platter and each had something on
top. There were cheesecake bites and mini cream puffs, chocolate chip cookies
and brownie bites, fruit tartlets and even tiny pumpkin pies. Beryl had in her
hands another platter with little bowls filled with chocolate sauce, berries,
crème
fraiche
, whipped cream, butterscotch, granola and other
toppings. Deena and Meryl followed with plates, silverware and napkins.

"Wow, Sylvie. You're an artist with food,
too!" exclaimed Lydia.

Sylvie beamed.

"Did you make all of these separate dishes for
tonight?
There's
only five of us! That's a lot of work," said
Andy, "and a lot of money." Lydia tried to shush her.

"Eat up," Sylvie laughed and the others took
a plate and began picking out bites and covering them with toppings. Beryl
handed plates to Deena and Meryl who sat down on the floor and ate while they
listened.

"Cooking and baking is one of the things I
can
afford." Sylvie, said,
"Sam gives me an amazing discount on things. And don't worry. I decided
this was a perfect time to make some gifts for the kids' teachers. It isn't a
holiday, so they won't be expecting anything. It will be a nice surprise. Tomorrow,
they're going to help me deliver some treats to a few women around town who
probably don't get things like this anymore."

"Oh Sylvie, that's so sweet!" Beryl said.

"It's nothing, just something Mom used to do."

"I remember your mom," Andy said. "She
was wonderful. OH! I remember her treats, too!"

"She loved baking, so we ended up sharing all the
time!" Sylvie said. "Sometimes it feels like all I ever do now is
work and run around after my kids. I don't get enough time to spend with other
people."

"You're here with us tonight, Sylvie. That's a
pretty good thing,” Lydia said.

"I know, and I appreciate you inviting me. It was
great to get out and be normal. The kids are old enough to let them have a
little freedom from me. I guess I'm not sure how to be anything other than
their mom anymore."

"They're good kids and lucky to have you. You've
done a good job with them. And trust me; we'll make sure you get a life if
that's what you want. We're good at life, aren't we?" Beryl asked looking
at Lydia and Andy.

"Well, we've certainly seen a bunch of it,"
Andy laughed.

"So, what are you doing for the rest of the
weekend, Polly?" Lydia asked. "It's going to seem odd for you not to
be at my house tomorrow morning."

"You and Aaron have been so good to me. I've only
been in town a few weeks and I'm already spending nights at someone else's
house. But, I honestly don't know what I would have done these last few
days." She paused. “I could have gone to a hotel, but, you took care of me
i
n so many ways. Thank you!"

"Oh, I loved having you there," Lydia said. "My
old fart is always so much more fun when there are other people around."

"I'm sure that's not true,” Polly scolded,
“
You two are kind of crazy about each other."

Lydia got a warm look on her face. "You know, I
nearly lost him once. I don't take him for granted now, but I'll tell that
story another time." She looked at Polly, "So what IS up for you the
rest of the weekend?"

"Henry is going to have his guys help me bring up
some more furniture on Monday, so I have a place to sit upstairs. I'm going to
go down in the basement
tomorrow
and try to figure out what I want. I feel like my life
has been in boxes for so long and I don't see much chance that's going to
change until after the New Year!"

Sylvie looked up, "Would you like some help
tomorrow?" she asked timidly.

Beryl and Lydia were sitting a little behind her and
nodding wildly at Polly.

"I'd love that, Sylvie! Would you like to bring
your boys?"

"Could I?" she asked. They've
never been in the school and I’ve
talked a lot about the fun I had when I was there, and
now that those girls’ bodies have been found, it seems like that's all they
ever talk about at home."

"I've got plenty of food for lunch. Why don't you
come over about noon? We'll make lunch and t
hen
go attack my stuff
."

Lifting a box to the floor, Sylvie said,
"I don't think I was ever down
here when I was in high school.
Old Mr. Leon was kind of creepy and no one wanted to
be around him. I think some of the boys came down to do industrial arts stuff
in that part of the basement,
” she
pointed to the back,
“
but the rest
seemed like it was his territory."

"Was he the only custodian here?" Polly
asked.

"No, there were two other guys. L
et's see, what were their names?
"
Sylvie
paused
in
thought.
"Darren something and
Ken
Malotte
.
It seemed like he made them do all the dirty
work. They weren't very old, probably in their 30s at the time. I remember them
hating
phys
-ed
testing; they were forever sweeping up vomit." She looked at Polly. "Do
you remember t
he smell of the sawdust
stuff?"