Angel Song (17 page)

Ethan started to replace the plate, but he had trouble getting it lined up. He pulled it back out, put his face in close to the wall, and grabbed the flashlight. “What’s this?”

“What? What are you talking about?”

“There’s something in here.” He drew his head back but shoved his hand inside the wall.

Ann’s heart stopped beating. “Something . . . alive?”

“No. At least I sure hope not. And if it is, I sure hope it’s not poisonous. You ever learned to suck venom out of a snake bite?”

“Get your hand out of there!”

“Oh, quit squealing like a girl. It’s . . .” With some straining and contortions, he moved his hand deeper into the wall. “It’s some kind of paper.” He finally pulled his hand out, bringing with it a roll of paper secured by a rubber band.

“Isn’t this mysterious?” He looked up at her and wiggled his eyebrows, but Ann was in no mood for humor.

“What is that?”

“Don’t know. It’s your house. Do you want to open it?” He held it out to her.

Ann kept her hands firmly planted on the floor and shook her head. “You do it.”

The paper was yellowed and the rubber band holding it together split as soon as Ethan put pressure on it. He uncurled the paper and looked at the page, his brow furrowed in concentration. “It’s a handwritten letter. ‘To my daughters, from Lorelei.’ Do you know a Lorelei?”

“Yes.” Just the sound of the name made Ann want to cover her ears and run. She tried to keep a neutral expression, but it required great effort.

“A cousin?”

She looked down at her hands, suddenly tightly clasped together. “My mother.” The words hurt too much to say in more than a whisper.

“Well, I guess that’s my signal to stop reading because it’s not any of my business. Here, I’m assuming you’ll want to read this. You want me to give you some privacy?”

As he handed Ann the paper, the edges curled up again. “You know what? I think I’ll save this for later. I want to get the sanding finished before the day is over.” Ann tossed the paper out into the hallway floor as nonchalantly as if it were a piece of junk mail.

Ethan watched evenly. “You sure about that?”

“Positive.” Ann plugged the sander back into a different plug and began working.

It was just after five o’clock when they finally finished sanding and cleaning up the mess it left behind. Ethan was dotted head to toe with fine wood dust. His sun-bleached hair hanging from beneath his cap was saturated with little brown specks. Ann smiled at him. “You’d better get home and get yourself cleaned up. I definitely owe you dinner, and I refuse to be seen in public with any man who looks like you do right now, even if he did just put in a whole day working in my house.”

“And I’m not letting any woman buy me dinner. I don’t know how they do things in New York, but here in Charleston, a man is still a man, and I’m buying dinner.”

“See, this is your problem. You’re stuck in the old. Old houses, old floors, old ways of doing things. Take a look at what’s new around you; it’s so much more freeing to be able to live in the moment.”

“There’s where you’re dead wrong. We need the old to—”

Knock. Knock
.

“See, even the universe is on my side. Notice the timing of that knock?” Ann smirked as she walked toward the door. Since the knock came from the kitchen door, she didn’t have to wonder who it was. She opened it and said, “Come on in, Tammy, Keith.” She knew they would anyway. At least if she issued the invitation, she could retain some semblance of control. “You’re just in time to hear Ethan tell us why he’s stuck a few decades back.”

“Yeah. Then maybe Annie”—he shot a glance in her direction —“excuse me,
Ann
, will enlighten us with her explanation of disposable lifestyles.”

“Excuse me?”

“Ethan! I didn’t know you were over here.” Keith knocked his glasses off in his excited bouncing. He reached down and picked them up but continued to wriggle with excitement. “Oh boy!”

“Hey, buddy, how’s it going?”

“Good.” Keith’s smile covered his whole face. “You want to play football with me?”

“Well, I was just going home to get cleaned up so I could take Ann out for dinner. I’ve had her working hard all day and she’s hungry.”

“Annie’s coming to my house for dinner. You coming too?”

Tammy laughed uncomfortably. “What Keith means is, we were coming over to see if Ann wanted to come over for dinner. I didn’t know that you were still here, Ethan. I didn’t see your truck outside.”

“It’s parked around back. We were unloading some heavy equipment, so I brought it right up to the back porch.”

“Well, we’re cooking burgers on the grill, and I was coming over to see if Ann wanted one. You’re welcome to one too.” She looked back and forth between the two of them, and Ann could practically see the matchmaker wheels spinning. “Of course, the two of you would probably rather go out somewhere.”

“Please, Ethan, you come to my house?”

Ethan looked from Ann to Keith, clearly torn about what he should do. And for the first time ever, he seemed at a loss for words. The effect was charming, in spite of his pigheadedness.

“I’m conceding nothing, but for now, I suggest a cease-fire. Let’s say that for tonight, Tammy’s got dinner.”

Ethan smiled good-naturedly. “Conceding nothing is right. We’ll continue this discussion later. You’ll come to see the error of your ways, I’m sure of it.”

Later
. Ann thought she might like the sound of that word. Uncomfortable with the thought, she turned toward Tammy. “What can I bring?”

“Not one thing. I’ve been listening to the sound of machinery running over here all day, and I’ve felt bad about how hard you’re working and the fact that I haven’t done enough to help you. I’ve already gone to the store and bought everything. I want you to come over, sit down, and relax.”

Tammy continued to amaze. She had a life that most people would consider hard to the point of debilitating, yet she continued to go out of her way to help Ann—someone she hardly knew.

Sure, maybe Tammy and Sarah had been close, but Tammy’s selflessness went beyond that. Ann found herself wondering what made her tick.

Ethan said, “Do I have time to run home and take a shower?”

“Believe me, honey, we’ll make time.” Tammy shook her head, looking from Ann to Ethan, then back again. “Now, both of you get cleaned up and back over to my place ASAP. Time for some good food and good fellowship.”

“Bye, Annie, see you soon.” Keith smiled tentatively at her, then looked at Ethan. “I’ll have my football ready.”

“Honey, Ethan’s been working all day. He’s too tired to want to play ball tonight.”

“There you go, Tammy, thinking like a girl again—which, I guess, is fine since you are one. Personally, I’m a guy, and I’m never too tired for a little football. Especially with my man Keith.”

Tammy looked at him, and Ann thought she could see the sheen of tears in her eyes. Tammy mouthed the words
thank you
silently, then turned to her son. “Come on, Keith, let’s go set the table for four.”

“Woo hoo.” Keith hugged his mother. “Party time!”

The two of them walked out the door and Ethan followed. He turned to look over his shoulder as he reached the bottom of the steps. “See you in a bit.”

Ann nodded. “Sounds good.” And it really did.

Ann walked back into the empty house, surprised by how much she was looking forward to the evening ahead. It was almost like having an extended family.

That thought caused her to look at the rolled-up paper—a letter written by the mother she’d hardly known—currently sitting on the kitchen counter. Part of her wanted to read it; another part wanted to burn it. What good could possibly come out of this? If it offered explanations, Ann didn’t want to hear them. What reason could possibly justify taking your kids for a “weekend visit to Nana’s” and then sneaking off in the middle of the night with nothing more than a note saying, “I’m leaving?” How many times had her mother offered what seemed like love, or acceptance, only to run out on them again? And if the letter asked for forgiveness . . .

The house suddenly felt stuffy. Well, she hadn’t checked the mail today, and there were likely bills that needed to be paid. She walked outside, purposefully avoiding a glance at the letter as she went, and took her time making her way to the mailbox. She paused to pick up stray leaves that had fallen onto the concrete and veered off the path to pick the occasional weed.

“You look like someone who’s trying to avoid something.”

Ann looked up, surprised to see Eleanor squatting at the end of the driveway, lacing her running shoe. “Hi, Eleanor. And what would make you say that?”

Her hair, pulled tightly back, still glinted in the sunlight as she stood. “Well, I don’t know that I’ve ever seen anybody walk quite that slow, and you’ve found more excuses to stop than I would have imagined possible.”

Ann laughed. “Busted.” She noticed Eleanor’s face looked flushed. “Just finishing your run?”

“Yep, I beat my best time by twenty seconds today.”

“Good for you.”

“Yep.” She reached behind and grabbed her right foot with both hands, stretching out her quads. “A lot of times I feel like avoiding my evening run, but you know what I’ve always found to be true?”

“What?”

“If there’s something you don’t want to face, the sooner you get to it, the better.” She dropped the right foot and grabbed the left. “And if it looks to be too big to handle, I break it up into smaller pieces. On the days I don’t think I can make two miles, I aim for one. Or even a half. But I don’t let myself avoid the goal altogether.”

“You’re probably right.”

“You know what I think your first goal should be?”

“What?”

“A shower. Looks like you’ve got a pound of sawdust currently roosting in your hair.”

“Ha. You’ll appreciate that part, though, when it comes time to sell the house.”

“I’m sure I will. You have a good evening now, okay?” Eleanor jogged off down the street, her ponytail swinging in the air.

Maybe Ann should face the letter. But now, thanks to her stroll, she didn’t have time. She’d have to hurry if she was going to make it to Tammy’s before Ethan did.

Chapter 18

Tammy smiled. Ann was watching Ethan and Keith through the open kitchen window. Even though Ann was still going through the motions of chopping vegetables, her attention was definitely elsewhere.
Oh, the possibilities!

Ann turned her direction for a split second and saw Tammy watching her. She motioned with her knife. “Ethan’s really great with Keith.”

Tammy nodded, although she doubted Annie noticed. “I don’t know what I’d do without him.” Ethan was running with his left arm in the air and shouting, “I’m going for the bomb; give it all you’ve got!”

Keith threw the ball, which turned end over end instead of spiraling like a professional football player’s ball would. It obviously wasn’t going to get as far away as Ethan was, so Ethan corrected course, ran forward, and made a diving catch. He held the ball up in the air, as if to show the referee that he’d caught it, then yelled, “Touchdown!”

“Woo, woo, woo!” Keith pumped his elbow in victory. “Yeah!”

Ethan threw the ball back to Keith. It hit his hands, bounced off, and hit him on the face. “Ow.” Keith put his hands over his nose.

Just then a black truck came speeding down the street, loud music booming through the open windows. A teenage boy leaned out the window. “What’s the matter, retard? Can’t you catch the itty-bitty ball?” The tires squealed as the truck sped away, the sound of the boys’ laughter echoing through the neighborhood.

Tammy felt her fingers closing tighter around the handle of the vegetable peeler. She wished she could take those boys out of their charmed lives—full of black trucks, sports teams, and Saturday night dates—and just for one day put them in Keith’s place. Let them see how it felt to walk into a room full of strangers, expecting to be welcomed because he always welcomed, only to find himself ignored, cut off from the group, or even laughed at. Yet Keith survived this over and over and over. If only everyone could see, they would realize that the one they thought weak was actually the strongest one among them.

“How do you stand that?” Ann slammed the end of a cucumber into the trash can. “Don’t you want to chase those boys down and beat some manners into them?”

Tammy moved her head from side to side, trying to make her voice calmer than she was. “Sometimes. A lot of times, actually.” She sliced the tomato in front of her. “I just wish they could all slow down long enough to really see him. To know how truly wonderful he is.”

Ann noticeably stiffened, her knife freezing halfway through the cucumber. “I’m glad I got the chance.”

“Lyle—that’s my ex-husband—left me not long after Keith was born. He was upset enough when we found out Keith had Down’s, then Keith had terrible colic and started screaming before the sun went down. I guess the thought of a lifetime spent with a handicapped son just scared him right out of here.”

“When you were pregnant with Keith, did you know that he was . . . that something was . . . ?”

Tammy placed the sliced tomatoes in a fan shape on the plate, then went to tearing slices of lettuce. “Not for most of the time.

I was an older mom, you know, so I had the tests done, including an amnio. It came back normal, so we were making plans for a healthy baby. But two weeks before Keith was born, we got a call from the doctor’s office. There had been a mix-up. They’d sent my results to some other woman, and sent me hers.”

Ann’s knife slipped and caught her by the finger. “Ouch.” She stuck her finger under the kitchen faucet and looked up at Tammy. “You’re kidding. The other woman, she’d thought that her baby . . .”

Tammy nodded. “Yep, she’d spent the last half of her pregnancy thinking her baby had Down syndrome. I’d spent the last half of mine thinking my baby was perfectly healthy.”

Tammy remembered locking herself in the bedroom and crying for three days straight after the call came. She had refused to speak to anyone, had hardly eaten. At the time, she thought her life was ruined. “Looking back on it, I see God’s hands all over it. The other woman was still pregnant when they figured out their mistake, so she’d obviously planned to keep her child, was prepared to deal with all the issues. I . . . well, I mean, to tell the absolute truth, I wouldn’t have done the same.”