Little Mercies (7 page)

Chapter 12

J
enny spied a small convenience store and stepped inside to ask the woman behind the counter where Hickory Street was located. “It’s not too far from here, just about two miles,” she explained, pulling out a small map of the city and highlighting the route that Jenny would need to take. “Do you have someone here with you?” the woman asked, worry lacing her voice.

“My grandma,” Jenny said with confidence. “She’s waiting for me in the car.”

Jenny didn’t know what she was going to do if she couldn’t find her grandmother and didn’t really want to spend the money she knew it would cost to stay in a nice hotel. She was suddenly very tired and the later she checked in at a hotel the more questions about where her parents were could come up.

Jenny referred to the map the woman had given her and started walking, deciding that she would keep an eye out for an inexpensive motel just in case her grandmother had moved. Very quickly the straps on her too-small flip-flops began rubbing the skin between her toes until she finally decided to take them off. The sidewalk was rough and hot from the day’s heat and Jenny carefully scanned the ground in front of her for bits of broken glass and sharp-edged pebbles.

She heard the beep of a car horn, not as insistent as the bleat of the car that almost smushed her earlier in the day, but still... Jenny looked up and whirled around ready to spew forth a few of the choice words that her father often muttered and then quickly apologized for when she saw the familiar face peering at her through the driver’s-side window of a small, yellow car with rounded edges that she and her friends at school called slug bugs.

It was the nice waitress from the Happy Pancake and Jenny couldn’t help but smile, and then stopped herself, suddenly suspicious. Maybe the waitress had changed her mind and was coming to collect the money for her red velvet pancakes, even though she told her that she didn’t have to pay. Maybe the restaurant manager told her to get the money or call the police. Jenny thought quickly. She could make a run for it and dart down a side street. She was a fast runner, even without wearing any shoes, and was confident she could ditch the old lady and her yellow car. Jenny glanced around at her surroundings. The busy main street seemed to go on forever and the nearest intersection was almost a football field away. Plenty of time for the lady to call the police if Jenny started to run. Her other option was to just pay her the money for the pancakes and hope that the waitress would be on her way. Once again Jenny slid the backpack from her shoulders and reached into the envelope, peeling off a twenty from the wad of bills.

“Hey, there,” the lady called through the car window. “You okay?”

Jenny nodded and shoved the money into the open window of the car, releasing it so that the bill fluttered down onto the woman’s lap and, without a word, continued marching down the street, her flip-flops hanging loosely from each thumb. “Oh, no,” the waitress called after her, “that’s not why I came to find you.” Jenny didn’t slow her stride, hoping the woman would get the hint and just drive away. Instead, the yellow car crept along slowly, keeping pace with her steps. “I was worried about you. Can I call someone for you?”

“No, thanks,” Jenny said as breezily as possible, “I’m meeting my sister just down the street here.”

Jenny could feel the woman’s gaze upon her and knew that she didn’t believe her. While Jenny knew she was a pretty good liar, she also had a good sense of who truly believed what she was saying. The bullshit-o-meter, her father called it.
Dust off that bullshit-o-meter,
her father would whisper to her when a landlord or the guy at the pawnshop was trying to pull something over on them. Jenny walked more quickly; she was now only a short distance to the corner.

“Hey, wait a minute,” the woman called. “I just want to talk to you.”

Jenny slowed her steps, but not to make it easier to have a conversation with the lady. If she timed it just right she could reach the corner as the light was turning and dash across the street, leaving the woman and her yellow car stuck at the red light.

“What’s your sister’s name?” the waitress asked. “I could call her for you or your mother if you’d like.” Jenny, despite herself, warmed at the thought of the woman thinking that Jenny actually had a mother to call. A mother who would be worried when she didn’t come home on time, who kept her dinner warm in the oven, covered lightly with tin foil. Her friends and teachers back in Benton knew that her mom wasn’t around, some even knew why. A lot of kids didn’t live with their dads or even see their dads, but at least they all had a mom, even stepmoms. She was the girl without a mother.

“Nah, I’m good,” Jenny answered, looking intently up at the traffic light, resting stubbornly on green.

“Can I at least drive you somewhere? I don’t like leaving you out here by yourself on the street,” the woman pleaded.

“No, thanks,” Jenny said offhandedly as the light jumped to yellow and she bent her knees slightly, looking to the left and right, getting ready to run.

“Hey,” the woman said loudly, causing Jenny to hesitate and look over. The woman’s face was taut with concern, her eyes filled with something that Jenny couldn’t name. “I saw the pictures.” Jenny’s heart stopped. “Please,” the woman implored, “let me help.”

Jenny’s stomach gave a sudden heave and she vomited into the street.

The woman hopped from the car and hurried to Jenny’s side. “Please, let me take you home or at the very least call someone for you.” Miserably, Jenny clutched at her stomach and began to cry. “What’s your name?” she asked gently.

“Jenny,” she wept.

“Jenny, just tell me who I can call and I will.” The woman reached out and placed the back of her hand against Jenny’s forehead. “You’re sick. I can’t just leave you here.” The woman looked around helplessly. “Maybe I should call the police?”

“No!” Jenny said emphatically. “Don’t call the police,” she begged. Jenny found herself actually considering getting into the yellow car, the entire time hearing her father screaming in her head,
Don’t you dare get in that car, Jennifer Briard!
Jenny ignored her father’s voice and dizzily climbed into the passenger seat.

The woman drove slowly through the unfamiliar streets and Jenny sneaked sidelong glances at the waitress who introduced herself as Maudene Sifkus. It was so different than the rides with her father, who was always in a hurry, impatient to get to wherever they were going. He barely braked at stop signs and was known to shout out the window in frustration at nimrods, as he called the drivers who, in his opinion, nearly killed them both.

“I live just a few blocks from here,” Maudene told her, hunched over and hands gripping clawlike to the steering wheel. They crept along slowly, pausing for what felt like an eternity at stop signs, though Jenny didn’t mind all that much. Initially, once Jenny had climbed cautiously into the car and got over the shock of learning that Maudene had seen the pictures from her backpack, Maudene mentioned that perhaps she should take Jenny to the police station. Jenny threatened to leap from the moving car—perhaps this was why she was driving so slowly—and Maudene promised to take her to her house. “My daughter has kids around your age.” Maudene didn’t take her eyes off the road as she spoke. “Eleven, right?”

“Ten,” Jenny said automatically, and then mentally kicked herself. The less information she shared, the better.

“Ten?” Maudene said in surprise. “You seem so much older. Very mature for your age.”

“I guess,” Jenny said nonchalantly, but swelled a bit with pride at the compliment. “You got a husband?” Jenny asked before she could stop herself.

Maudene was silent for so long that Jenny thought she must not have heard her. Jenny knew that old people could be a bit hard of hearing, so she sat up straighter in her seat and turned to face Maudene. “You got a husband?” she said loudly, enunciating each word very carefully, then saw the stricken look on Maudene’s face and closed her mouth. They drove along in silence until Maudene slowed the car and turned on the blinker as she pulled into a driveway.

Jenny gaped at the sight. It was the sweetest house that Jenny had ever seen. It wasn’t big, but cozy looking with the welcoming glow of the sun shining through the thick trees. The steps leading up to the porch and the front door held pots teeming with flowers that were so bright they hurt her eyes. A flicker of movement from behind the curtains of the front window made Jenny’s heart catch in fear. Maudene never answered her question about a husband. Maybe he wouldn’t like the idea of Maudene bringing a little girl to their home. Maybe he was just plain mean. Jenny felt her stomach, sore from vomiting, clench again.

“Come on in, and I’ll introduce you to my dog.” Jenny followed Maudene up the front walkway to the house, dropping her shoulders to avoid the low-hanging branches of an elm tree, its long, fingerlike limbs nearly brushing against her neck.

“Watch your head there,” Maudene said, putting a protective arm around Jenny. “I need to get that tree trimmed. Someone is going to get their eye poked out.”

“We have one of those in front of our school. No one is supposed to climb it, but they do. One kid fell out and landed on his head.” Jenny picked a leaf and rubbed it between her fingers, wishing that she had climbed the tree in front of the school. There were no trees to speak of near the places where she and her father lived. Narrow, weedy things that wilted beneath the weight of their own leaves. Maybe Maudene would let her climb this tree later, before she asked her to take her to look for her grandmother.

They ascended the creaky wooden steps that led to the front door, Jenny hanging back a little. Maudene noticed the hesitancy and stopped. “You don’t have to come inside,” she said gently. “I can call someone for you, take you somewhere if you want.” Jenny didn’t answer, just looked uncertainly at the wooden front door inlaid with a rectangle of stained glass illuminated by a dim light from within the house.

Jenny didn’t want to tell Maudene that she really had nowhere to go, no one to call, that the reason she got off in Cedar City was because there was a tiny chance that a grandmother that she had never met, had never even spoken with, lived in this town. “Is your dog nice?” she finally asked.

“Dolly is very nice,” Maudene assured her. “I promise she won’t hurt you. She’ll probably come up and sniff you because she’s curious, but then she’ll go back and lay down.” Jenny nodded but didn’t move. “Do you want me to go in first and put Dolly in the bedroom?” Jenny thought about standing outside on the porch all by herself surrounded by the talonlike branches and low whispers from the swaying trees and shook her head no.

“It’s okay. I’ll come in,” Jenny answered, pulling her backpack from her shoulders and holding it in front of her like a shield.

Maudene slid a key into the lock and nudged the door open with her shoulder. “Dolly,” she called. “I have someone special for you to meet.” Dolly, from her post by the front window, eyed Jenny sleepily and Jenny responded with her own wary gaze. “Come here, girl,” Maudene cooed, and Dolly stiffly obeyed. Jenny tensed and instinctively stepped behind Maudene as the large dog approached. “Hold your hand out like this.” Maudene held out her arm, palm down, toward Dolly’s nose and Jenny reluctantly did the same, her hand shaking slightly. “She’s a German shorthaired pointer. Best dog ever,” Maudene said as Dolly sniffed the air around Jenny’s fingers and, as if sensing her trepidation, ducked and raised her head beneath Jenny’s hand. Jenny flinched and pulled her hand back as if burned. Dolly, wounded by the rebuff, skulked from the room. “Are you hungry or thirsty?” Maudene asked. “Can I get you something to eat?”

“No,” Jenny said, cradling her stomach, still sore from earlier.

Jenny knew she should thank Maudene for being so nice to her. It wasn’t that Jenny wasn’t thankful for the offer; it was just that there were so many things to look at in Maudene’s home that she got distracted. Jenny had never seen so much wood in one room. The walls were paneled halfway up the wall in coffee-colored wood. There were built-in shelves filled with books and knickknacks; there was a fireplace and columns that led to another room all made out of the same dark rich wood. Even the ceiling was lined with thick beams. Jenny had never seen anything like it.

The telephone rang and Jenny watched as Maudene looked at it in surprise. “Aren’t you going to get that?” Jenny asked.

“No one ever calls me at this time of the day,” Maudene responded as she glanced at the wooden clock hanging on the wall. “Probably just a telemarketer.”

“Does that have a cuckoo in it?” Jenny asked, nodding toward the clock.

“A cuckoo?” Maudene asked distractedly, looking at the telephone that had finally fallen silent.

“Is that a cuckoo clock? Does a little bird come out every hour?”

“No, dancers,” Maudene said, turning back to Jenny. “It was a wedding present from my parents. It’s over forty years old.”

“It’s pretty,” Jenny said, scrutinizing more closely the intricately carved clock in the shape of a peaked house. “When do they dance?”

“Every hour. Come on, I’ll show you where you can put your things and where the bathroom is. And when you’re ready we can talk about what you want to do next.” Maudene led Jenny up the wooden steps that were intersected with a narrow, worn strip of carpet and once again the telephone began to trill.

“Maybe you better get that,” Jenny, who found in her short life that phone calls most often meant bad news or a new friend-girl for her father on the other end, said nervously.

“It can wait,” Maudene assured her as they continued up the steps. “You can put your things in the room that used to belong to my daughter.” Maudene opened the door and flipped a light switch, revealing an oddly shaped room painted pale pink. The ceiling was low, the walls were angled haphazardly and the headboards of two twin beds were situated into a narrow nook beneath a small bank of windows covered in white, lacy curtains. Jenny realized they were at the tippy-top of the house. “It’s so pretty,” Jenny breathed, running her hand over the pink coverlets that lay across the beds.