Mason's Daughter (19 page)

CHAPTER TWENTY

Angelique sits in the front passenger’s seat of Mike’s patrol car, while Colton and I climb in the back. Strange how it reassures me when he clings to me, as if he won’t be able to breathe without holding on. I cradle his shoulders across my lap, rest his head in the crook of my arm, and let him sleep. Before he dozes off from sheer exhaustion or the pain medication, he wraps his bandaged arm around my neck like a vine.

I have no reason to talk on the return trip to Mason’s Crossing and feel grateful the others choose silence, too. All the words that make a difference have been said. Tomorrow there will be other words, and we will deal with them then. Somewhere, God knows how, I will find strength again.

Soon the monotonous hum of the tires and the warm air from the car’s heater make me drowsy, too, and my head bobs against the padded headrest. I can’t tell if I dream or not.

Clyde and my father stood talking together in the garden. The expressions on their faces looked serious and I was worried something was wrong. I left Esmeralda, still barefooted after all these months since she lost her shoes at the airfield, in the breakfast room. As I walked to the back veranda, I still couldn’t hear them.

I crept down the steps and followed the garden path. As I came around the corner to join them, a little boy jumped from behind a bush about ten feet in front of me. We didn’t get many visitors to our house, but other children have never been allowed. I stopped. “Hey, where did you come from?”

He looked at me with large dark eyes. We were about the same height, but he was skinny. His legs were too long for his pants and he wore sneakers without any socks. I was glad I left Esmeralda in the house. He probably wouldn’t want to play dolls with me.

The boy didn’t answer my question. Instead, he came up to me and squeezed my curls like they were a sponge.

I pushed his hand away. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Just checking to see if they’re real.” He smirked. “Your hair’s so bouncy.”

I laughed. “Want to race?” I pointed to the other end of the path.

“How far?” he asked.

“All the way to the wall.”

“And back?”

I swallowed. “Sure.”

He lined up beside me. “One, two three, go!”

I should have changed into sneakers before I came outside. My Mary Janes were no match for his Keds, broken shoelaces and all.

We thundered past Clyde and my father, who called our names. We ignored them until the return leg. The boy kept running but I stopped because there was a third grown-up standing with the men. A lady who also looked very serious.

“I win! I win!” the boy yelled from our starting point.

I waved at him to come back to where I stood. He walked very slowly, like he was marching in a parade wearing heavy boots.

“Sally, come here,” said Daddy.

I went to stand next to my father.

“This is Mrs. Avery,” he said. “A friend of Clyde’s. She and her son have moved to Mason’s Crossing.”

No one mentioned a Mr. Avery. The last time I had asked someone a personal question, I got in trouble with Aunt Mary, so I shook her hand, the way Mother had taught me. “Pleased to meet you.”

Clyde beamed as the boy approached. “And this here’s Mike. He’ll be in your grade at school.”

I looked at the boy and hoped he ran better than he spelled. I didn’t want to give up my first place in the school spelling bee for sixth graders.

Clyde put his hand on the boy’s shoulder. “And Mike, this is Sally. Y’all should become good friends.”

The boy bowed from the waist, like he was asking me to dance, the way I’d seen in the movies. I hoped he wasn’t going to be this stiff and silly all the time.

“Would you like to see my playhouse?” I asked.

He nodded. I took him to the other side of the garden, away from the adults, and showed him what Daddy had ordered for me a few years ago, built maybe as soon as I learned to walk. My playhouse had a gate, a drawbridge over a painted moat, and towers in each corner. Mother said they’re called ‘turrets.’

“Are you a princess?” Mike asked.

“I don’t think so.”

“You must be.”

Bright lights wake me up, as Mike slows the car to turn into an all-night gas station. “Fifty miles to go,” he whispers over his shoulder. “Are you all right?’

I nod and smile, shifting my body slightly, trying not to disturb Colton. He moans softly, but doesn’t awaken. The medication holds steady.

Angelique turns around in her seat. “Need anything?”

I’m okay, I assure her. My joints have gone rigid, but if Colton and I turn petrified before we reach Mason’s Crossing, it won’t matter. I wouldn’t mind being set in stone with my sleeping son, like a modern
Pietá
.

Once we get under way again, Mike’s firm hand on the wheel somehow comforts me. The drowsiness returns and I drift in and out of awareness of the miles we cover.

It was not my birthday, but Clyde brought me a gift, something he’d never done before. He said it was to thank me for being so nice to Mike and helping him get settled at school. I told him Mike was good at sports and right smart enough, plus he was polite to everyone. The principal had already let him be captain of the safety patrol.

I couldn’t imagine what was in the unwrapped package Clyde held. We sat in the swing on the front porch, the same place we had sat together when we first met.

I was too excited to keep seated, so I stood in front of Clyde as he balanced the box on his lap. He watched while I pried off the lid. Tissue paper hid the contents and I poked my fingers down in it until they touched something solid. I pulled the object out and held it up. A pair of red leather shoes dangled from a cord, but they were no bigger than my thumb. “New shoes for my doll?”

“Miz Cromwell helped me buy these. I thought Esther would like ‘em, since she lost the last pair.”

“Esmeralda will be quite happy to wear them.” I didn’t care that he never got her name right, as I leaned up to kiss his rough cheek. “Thank you very much.”

Clyde stood up with effort. He put his arms around my shoulders and gave me a hug. Maybe I loved Clyde because he cared about children, or at least he thought I was special. He smelled like Ivory soap and pine trees. After a moment, he let go, and then rested his hands on my arms. “Take care of your daddy, will ya?” His eyes turned wet in the corners as he blinked very fast, like he had gotten something stuck in his eye.

“What’s wrong?” I asked. “You look sad.”

“Nothing.” He picked up his jacket from the bench. “I got to be going. Tell Mike I’m proud of him.”

“Why don’t you drop in at our school? You can see for yourself on Parents’ Day how good, um, how well he’s doing.”

But Clyde was already halfway across our lawn, walking toward the street where he had parked his truck. I wondered why he didn’t pull up in the driveway like always. “Bye, Clyde. See you tomorrow,” I hollered.

When he didn’t turn around and answer, or even wave at me, I dropped the little shoes on the swing and jumped down the front steps. The truck’s engine roared and I ran faster to the edge of the lawn. He never heard me call his name.

As I strolled back to the porch, I hoped he would come to visit our school. Mike would like that okay, I guessed, but
I
would’ve been proud to hold Clyde’s hand and take him around the classrooms and the hallways. I would’ve introduced him to all the teachers and the principal and the cafeteria ladies.

He could have sat in the empty seat reserved for Mother or Daddy. And I could have pretended to be like all the other kids.

After he turns on my street, Mike slows the cruiser to a crawl until he parks in my circle drive. He switches off the engine and looks over his shoulder at Colton and me. While Angelique waits, Mike comes around the back of the car. As he slowly opens the rear passenger door, he holds out his arms while I stroke Colton’s hair, trying to wake him up enough to move.

His sleepy weight proves too heavy for me, and Mike crouches next to me, balancing half on the back seat and half on the night air. As I scoot toward the center, Mike lifts Colton’s upper body and pulls him partway out of the car. Angelique leans across the back of the front seat to help push. Colton’s lungs let out a long ‘hmmm,’ but his eyelids don’t even flutter.

For a moment, I fear the two of them will topple over backwards, but Mike tightens his grip and stands up, catching Colton’s legs before they hit the doorframe. Mike nestles him against his chest as easily as if Colton were an infant in his father’s arms. I hold my breath and wait.

Mike whispers, “Let’s get him in the house.” He turns toward the front door. Our breaths come out in little puffs from the chilly air, as Angelique and I trail up the sidewalk to the porch. She picks up the plastic bags of dinners left by the delivery boy from Raúl’s restaurant.

Before I can get the key out of my purse and unlock the door, the grandfather clock in the foyer chimes midnight. I wish we could all turn into pumpkins, at least until tomorrow.

Once the door stands open, I gesture for Mike to follow me. The stairs creak louder than usual from the double weight. With only the hallway light for illumination, I paw the bedcovers in Colton’s darkened room and shove them back. Careful of his bandaged wrist, Mike lays Colton down gently on his side, and I pull the comforter over his shoulder. Once more I brush the hair from my son’s forehead and watch him inhale and exhale.

It takes several moments to realize the mother in me has been starving for lack of touch. Some internal artery had gotten clogged or shut off, but now it is unbound, allowing all my affection and tenderness to gush like water from a busted pipe. With my arm draped across his back, I sit on the edge of Colton’s bed until Angelique’s hand comes to rest on my shoulder.

“He’ll be all right now,” she says.

I lean around her and glance into the hallway. “Where did Mike go?”

“Can you come downstairs for a moment?”

I have to pry my arm from Colton’s sleeping body. After a few seconds, I nod and follow her to the living room. Leaning against the far wall, Mike stares into the crown of his hat as he waits for us. Angelique doesn’t sit down, so I remain standing, too.