Dreaming August (6 page)

“Matilda?” Benny gasped. “As in Tilly?”

“I do believe she was called Tilly. Yes, Tilly Tully. I was a newcomer to Bitterly compared to my wife’s family. At the time and never actually knew her. Why? Was she a relative of yours?”

“No, but there’s a rock along the river, just north of town, called Tilly Rock, named for a girl who drowned. You can’t be a kid in Bitterly without being dared to swim to it.”

“And did you take such a dare, Benedetta?”

“Of course. It’s just a story.”

“Indeed it is, but your story is wrong. A girl was murdered by a spurned lover, her father blamed until they found her shoes hidden under the floorboards of her lover’s house. Her father was released, but the man was never apprehended.”

“Her shoes?” Goosebumps rose on Benny’s arms. “This is really…I wonder if…”

“You wonder if what?” he asked.

Prickles of electricity were crackling up Benny’s spine now. She stood up, clutching her hoodie closer. “Do you remember when she was killed?”

Augie was silent a moment, then, “I believe it was October. Yes. Before Halloween. No children were allowed to tricks-or-treats that year.”

“I never put it together before,” she said. “No one talks of the murder anymore, but it’s a Bitterly-thing to put shoes out on the front porch every Hunter’s Moon. That’s the full moon in October. One person a year will find something in them. Pebbles, feathers. Nothing valuable or anything. I always thought it was just a fun tradition.”

“We Italians have a tradition of leaving shoes on the stoop at Little Christmas, so
la Befana
can leave presents in them.”

Benny laughed softly. “I know the tradition. My mother’s Italian. But this is different. Only one person ever finds anything in their shoes, and I’ve heard lots of stories about parents putting stuff in their kids’ shoes only to find whatever was in there gone in the morning. I wonder if it’s Tilly.”

“There was no such tradition while I lived in Bitterly.”

“Well, if it came about because of her, there wouldn’t be, would there.” Benny thumbed her lip. She hadn’t thought about the Halloweeny tradition in ages. It was probably nothing. Or maybe it wasn’t. Later, she would consider how deep her nuts-o-ness went. Now, she just let it be.

“Go home, Benedetta, before you become a story children dare one another with.”

“I’ll go home,” she said, “because I feel better now, and I’m tired, and I still have to work in the morning. Thank you, Augie.”

“It is my pleasure. It is good to speak with someone who is not Harriet. She can be cantankerous.”

“Tell her hi for me, okay?”

“I will.”

Benny started away, then, “Can you show me where you are buried?”

“Come back tomorrow,” he said. “I will try.”

Nodding, she peeked out the corner of her eye. Augie? Or moonlight? Benny walked down the hill without looking back, without saying goodbye to Henny, or touching a kiss to Mrs. Farcus’ tombstone.

* * * *

“Well?”

“Well what, August?”

“You were listening. I know you were.”

“Then why are you asking?”

“I wasn’t asking if you were listening, Harriet, you cantankerous witch, but what you thought about what you heard.”

“I didn’t like when you got naughty.”

“I seem to recall being the naughty sort. I am closer to who I was in life when I am with her.”

“Then you were no gentleman.”

“Gentlemen don’t have as much fun, Harriet. I…I don’t quite understand what happened. I became so muddled. I didn’t even tell her why I sought her out.”

“Do you remember why now?”

“The promise I made to my daughter, and didn’t keep. I need Benedetta to help me keep it. Why could I not remember that, when I was with her? Why only here?”

“Here, there is no place to hide, Augie. Back there, closer to life? People hide from the truth all the time.”

“Like I hid my child in Italy from Katherine.”

“There you have it. Just understand this, August. Hard as it is to hold onto a dream after waking, once you speak it aloud, there is no forgetting again.”

“Is that what we are? Dreams?”

“Kind of like, I ’spect.”

“I don’t think the living have any idea how very complicated death actually is, Harriet.”

“You got the right of it, Augie. The absolute right.”

The Sunset Hills

Benny checked the time again. Four o’clock. Still too early to skip out of work, even though she was finished with all Savannah asked her to do. She was actually feeling good today. No nausea at all. Her groin stitched now and again, those stretching ligaments and muscles were her newest reminder of the baby growing inside. Benny was actually looking forward to the doctor visit she had scheduled, including an ultrasound, as long as Peter let her borrow the car.

Gardening gloves stowed in her greenhouse cubby, along with her hand-trowel and rake, she took the garden debris out to the compost barrel and gave it a spin. Savannah had been out in the store a little while ago. Maybe she needed some help. It was the least Benny could do, considering the only appointment she was able to get was for Wednesday, the one day a week Savvy took off like it was a religious holiday. Hope as she might for the secret and sexy rendezvous Savannah needed, Benny acceded to the facts. Through all the years of their friendship, the only men in Savannah’s life had been Edgardo and Raul, brothers from Ecuador and foremen at the farm. The notion of her boss and one of her foremen making her shudder and laugh at the same time, Benny almost missed spotting Dan getting out of his truck just as she turned the corner. She ducked, feeling foolish, but her heart hammered too fast to do anything but hide.

“Good afternoon, Daniel.” Savannah’s smooth drawl carried. Benny peeked around the corner of the farmstand.

“Afternoon, Savannah.” Dan touched his brow like the country gentleman he was. “Got any of those striped tomatoes yet?”

“Not yet. But I do have some gold Brandywines.”

“Sweet?”

“Like sugar.”

“Great, thanks. I’ll take two. Basil?”

“Always.”

“Now if you have some of that soft farm cheese, I’m set for dinner.”

“Of course I do. It’s in the fridge.”

Savannah led Dan into the store. Benny took slow, even breaths in a failed attempt to ease her heart rate. She counted to ten then made a dash for her scooter. Savannah would understand. If she knew. Which she didn’t. Benny kicked the starter.

“No. No-no-no! Not now!” She kicked again. No hair-dryer-engine
bzzzz
. Dan’s deep voice rumbled in her belly, got louder. Closer. Benny gave it all she had. The engine sputtered to life. She twisted the throttle and spun gravel out of the parking lot.

Sorry, Savvy.
She threw the thought over her shoulder, but did not look back to see if they were both watching her zip away like a crazy person. Tears dried almost instantly, and Benny realized she hadn’t grabbed her helmet. Fear welled up worse than any nausea she’d felt these past months. How did she forget her helmet? Her damned helmet.

The engine sputtered. The scooter slowed, bucked, and turned off. Benny coasted to the side of the road, put her head in her arms and sobbed. In the darkness behind her lids, the nightmare image of Henny’s broken body formed. She held onto that ghastly image until she could no longer do so without screaming.

Benny wiped her eyes, sniffed. She unscrewed the gas cap, gave the scooter a shake. No swoosh. No gas. She almost laughed, but feared it would start her crying again. She moved the scooter farther to the side and lowered the kickstand. A vehicle pulled over. She knew who it was without looking.

“Hey, Dan.”

“Need some help?”

“Out of gas. You wouldn’t have any in the truck, would you?”

“Sorry, no. But I got some planks back there. I can get the scooter in the bed and drive you home.”

The jaw-watering sensation that had nothing to do with her pregnancy and everything to do with the sickening feeling she would vomit any second kept her silent. She only nodded and got into the truck. He wouldn’t have let her help him anyway.

Sunshine came through the window. Shielding her eyes, Benny lowered the visor. The mirror there reflected Dan in the truck bed. His shirt stretched taut across his broad back. Sunlight caught out the blond of his younger days, now turned a shade or two darker. He squinted against the sunlight as he struggled the scooter into the truck bed, brow furrowed. Taller than most men she knew, he was one of the few in town she didn’t tower over. Benny had liked that about him, during the week of happiness she stole from him. She liked too much about him, and that was the problem in a nutshell.

“I only had one webbing strap,” he said as he got into the truck, “but it should be fine for the short ride to your place.”

“Thanks.”

He glanced up from fastening his seatbelt. “You okay? You look like you’re going to be sick.”

“You have that effect on me.” She tried to laugh, but it came out as a bark.

“I figured as much, the way you been acting since Valentine’s Day.” But he smiled when he said it, and Benny felt a little better. He turned in his seat. “Listen, Benny, it didn’t work out. I won’t say it didn’t break my ornery old heart a bit, but I been alone a long time. Probably always will be. We were friends a long time before we were anything else. Can’t we be again?”

Benny’s shoulders slumped. Her head told her to tell him. Now was the perfect time. Her throat and tongue and mouth had other ideas. Again, she nodded. He waited then, letting go a deep and exasperated breath, Dan turned over the engine and pulled back onto the road.

The drive into town was silent, and only when they passed the cemetery did Benny remember Augie’s request for her return. In truth, she didn’t have it in her. All she wanted was her stuffy apartment, a shower, and the television remote.

Dan turned into her driveway and pulled around back, hopped out of the truck and rolled her scooter from the bed. Benny made a half-hearted attempt to help him but he waved her away. He wheeled it into the space under the steps as if he knew exactly where she kept it, as of course he did, because she had told him the night of their carriage ride, and Dan Greene remembered.

“You have a can? I’ll pick up some gas for you.”

“It’s okay,” she said. “I keep a full can in the shed. The scooter gets such good gas mileage I forget it ever needs to be filled.”

“It’s not a bad problem to have.” He jutted his thumb at his truck. “That thing guzzles gas like a frat-boy at a kegger.”

Benny smiled, but she didn’t laugh. Dan’s smile faded. He looked down at his hands, fingers spread wide, then turned them over. The backs were freckled, his arms covered in fine, blond hair, so pale in the sunshine. A momentary and quickly suppressed sensation of those arms around her, pulling her close, made her take a step back. He reached out as if to catch her, but Benny put up her hands.

“What did I do, Ben?” he asked so softly. “Whatever it was, I didn’t mean it.”

“I have to go inside,” Benny turned away but he caught her hand. She stared at it. The words came out of her mouth before she could stop them. “I’m seeing someone.”

“Oh.”

“His name is…is August. I only met him recently.”

“I see.” He still had her hand. Benny wanted to take the words back. She wanted to so badly.

“Dan, I—”

“Forget it,” he said, letting go her hand and taking a step back. “It was…I was…anyway.”

“Yoohoo, Daniel!”

Clarice Grady stepped onto the porch landing, her gaze going from one to the other and her face instantly brightening.

“What brings you here on this lovely day?”

Benny rolled her eyes.

“Hello, Mrs. Grady. Just helping Benny. She ran out of gas.”

“Benedetta, that blasted scooter again?”

“I ran out of gas, Ma. It happens.”

“Since you’re here, Daniel, I’m RSVPing to Mabel’s graduation party.” Clarice’s gaze flicked to Benny. “We’ll be there. All of—”

“I’m going up,” she cut in. “Dan, thanks for the lift.”

“You’re welcome,” he said, far more softly than he should have in Clarice’s hearing. Benny hurried up the back steps, slamming the door a little too hard. Her mother would invite Dan to dinner. He would refuse, of course, especially after the lie she told, but what if he didn’t? She yanked open the refrigerator door, unsurprised by the cold air and a lot of nothing blasting her in the face, and closed it again. When had she actually gone grocery shopping last? Thirty-six years old and she still ate most of her suppers with her family downstairs in the kitchen she’d been eating meals in most of her life. When she and Henny shared this space, she cooked like her mama cooked and loved doing it. Benny shopped—always local—and made everything from scratch. It was her joy, not her chore. Henny died and took that joy from her too.

“Damn you,” she grumbled. “Damn you and what you did to me. To my life. How could you?”

A knock lifted her head. Clarice waved from the half-glass door. Benny let her in.

“It’s not locked.”

“I didn’t want to intrude.”

“You?” Benny chuckled. She kissed her cheek. “What’s up, Ma?”

Clarice stepped into the apartment and closed the door behind her. She pushed a stray curl from her forehead. “Daniel went home,” she said.

“Okay. And?”

“And?” Clarice fumbled, her color rising. “What’s going on with you two, sweetheart? You seemed to have a good time together last winter. The carriage ride and—”

“I don’t want to talk about Dan.”

“Is it Henny?”

“I don’t want to talk about him either. Just let it go, Ma. This is my mess to figure out.”

Clarice cocked her head. “Mess?”

Benny closed her eyes, gritted her teeth. “I said let it go. I mean it.”

The couch in her small sitting room beckoned. Benny flopped into it and clicked the television on. Flip, flip, flip. Nothing but news, kiddie-tv and old sitcoms. Her mother sat down beside her. She said nothing, only took Benny’s hand and traced her knuckles. A familiar touch, one tugging at the bindings trussing Benny up. Loosening them. Without meaning to, Benny slumped into her mother, rested her head to her soft shoulder, and wept.