More Than You Know (3 page)

Beryl frowned and murmured, “Who is David?” In recent months, she’d sometimes heard her mom say that name, but she never knew why—the only Davids she knew were a long-lost uncle who’d actually been a family friend and a boy from Virginia who’d sat across from her in the third grade. She turned the card over, hoping for a clue, but the back of the card was blank. She studied the handwriting again and then happened to look out the window—just in time to see the stout little dog marching toward the pond.

“Oh, no,” she murmured. “Oh, no, you don’t!” she shouted, knocking loudly on the glass. But the determined canine trundled on purposefully, as if on a mission. Beryl dropped the ring back in the drawer and flew down the stairs, out the door, and across the lawn. “Flannery O’Connor, get your butt back here.” To her surprise, the wayward dog, now standing shoulder-deep in murky brown water, had a sudden change of heart and plodded back through the mud to stand in front of her. Then she closed her droopy eyes and, like a slowly rumbling earthquake, began to shake her whole body—from her big, blocky head all the way down to her curly, pathetic excuse for a tail.

Beryl leaped back, but it was too late—her pink oxford was splattered with mud. She looked down at her blouse and then up to heaven. “You’d better not be laughing, Mum!” she said, admonishing the wispy clouds that were drifting across the sky. As she did, she noticed a flock of geese winging high above, barely visible, their ever-changing formation floating through the heavens like a shimmering silver strand of Christmas tree tinsel. Beryl watched in amazement, heard their faint honking, and suddenly realized that her beloved mom, who’d always smiled at adversity, would be having a hard time suppressing her laughter. Beryl could almost hear her cheerful voice, “I’m sorry, Ber, but you should try not to take everything so seriously. Life is much too short—and full of wonder!” Beryl shook her head and considered the possibility that her mom had somehow teamed up with God to strategically place that flock of geese—and Flannery—in her life to help her get through this.

She thought back to the rainy spring day, ten years earlier, when Mia first brought Flannery home. At six weeks old, she was so small that Mia had tucked her into the front of her raincoat to keep her dry, and when that sad, wrinkled face had peeked out over her zipper, Mia had grinned impishly. “I just had a feeling!” she’d explained. Beryl had taken one look at the homely face and teased, “What feeling was that—sympathy?” In retrospect, she couldn’t help but wonder if that day had been part of a greater plan—God’s tapestry, Mia had called it, firmly believing that nothing in life happened by coincidence. The thought made Beryl smile as she walked back to the house with the muddy, wet canine waddling beside her.

On the way, they stopped at the car and Beryl retrieved Flan’s old L.L. Bean dog bed and a bag of Eukanuba. Then they continued to the porch, and she told Flan to sit and stay while she went inside to find a towel. When she came back out, the old dog was busy cleaning herself up with her hind leg over her head. Beryl cleared her throat and Flan looked up indignantly. “You really need to work on your manners,” she said, kneeling down. Flannery sniffed the towel, pulled her rotund self up, and before Beryl had a chance to defend herself, leaned forward and licked her right on the lips. “Yuck!” Beryl exclaimed, falling back in surprise and wiping her mouth on her sleeve. She contemplated running to her car for her Purell bottle but just shook it off, regained her composure, picked up the towel, and started to dry, which prompted the old dog to arch her back, close her eyes, and groan pleasurably—her guttural sounds vibrating with every movement of the towel.

“Oh, my goodness, Flan-O, you have absolutely no shame,” Beryl teased. Finally, she announced, “Good enough,” opened the screen door, and Flan trotted in like the old dame who owned the place. “That’s what I love,” Beryl said, “a dog with attitude.”

Flan trundled eagerly through the house, checking every room, her hind end wagging. “Flan, what in the world are you doing?” Beryl asked in dismay. Then it hit her—she was looking for Mia. Tears filled Beryl’s eyes. “Oh, Flan, she’s not here.” But Flan, undeterred, painstakingly climbed the narrow stairs and, as Beryl watched, waddled hopefully from room to room, ready to announce her arrival. “Hon, she’s not here . . .” Beryl repeated, but her words fell on deaf ears. Finally, Beryl sat on the top step, tears streaming down her cheeks, and wondered if she was going to break down every time she thought of her mom. She felt a cold, wet nose press against her arm and looked up. Flan gazed at her mournfully. “I’m sorry,” Beryl whispered, putting her arm around her and pulling her close. “I wish you could understand.” The old dog leaned into her, nuzzled her cheek, and licked her salty tears.

Finally, she carried her back downstairs, set her on the kitchen floor, scooped a cup of kibble into her bowl, and put the bowl near the back door next to her water. Flan sniffed it indifferently, took a little drink, found her old bed next to the stove—where Mia had always kept it—circled around several times, and curled up on its soft, fleecy cover. Beryl shook her head. “You’ve been living with me for three years, and yet, it’s like you never left this place.” She reached into her pocket to make sure she still had her keys and her phone, turned on the stove light, knelt down to scratch Flan’s ears, and whispered, “Don’t be sad, old pie! I’ll be back soon with one of your favorite pals.”

2

R
umer gazed at the Black Foot River as they neared Missoula. “Wake up, Rand,” she said, reaching into the backseat of the pickup to give her ten-year-old son a nudge. “The sun’s makin’ the river look like a golden ribbon weaving through the city.”

Rand sat up, his tousled chestnut hair sticking out in every direction. He blinked sleepily. “Mmm-hmm,” he murmured, unimpressed, before slumping over again.

“Thanks for driving me,” Rumer said quietly. She paused. “I’m still hoping you’ll come. It would mean a lot to me if Rand—and you—were there.”

Will nodded solemnly. “We’ll try, Rumer, but I can’t promise anything.” He pressed his lips together and looked over at her. Her eyes glistened and he knew he was playing a big part in breaking her heart. He wanted to wrap his arms around her and hold her, but lately it felt like there was an invisible wall between them. “I’m sorry about your mom—you know that—but it’ll be at least two grand for me and Rand to come—and we just don’t have that kind of money.”

Rumer blinked back tears, remembering the angry words they’d hurled at each other the night before. “I know, Will, but this is his grandmother. You only go through life once and, believe it or not, there are things more important than money.”

Will sighed in frustration. “Rumer, honestly, I wish things were different, I really do. I wish I could give you everything you want. I wish money wasn’t always an issue with us, but construction is the only thing I know how to do and no one is building anything in this damn economy. Working for a modular home company is not what I had in mind either, but at least it’s a job. The problem is—no matter how many hours I work—it’s never enough.”

“Maybe we shouldn’t have moved out here,” Rumer said quietly.

Will looked over. “Maybe we shouldn’t have—maybe you and Rand shouldn’t have.”

Rumer stared out the window, tears stinging her eyes.

Will glanced over. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. I just don’t know what the answer is anymore.”

Rumer didn’t know what the answer was either. Her profession had changed, too; with so much art being generated by computers, it was even harder for a freelance illustrator to find work. She’d been reduced to waitressing and catering as often as she could—and she hated every minute of it.

Will pulled up in front of the airport terminal and Rumer got out. She reached into the back of the truck for her bags, and Will pulled the seat forward and shook their son’s knee. “C’mon, Rand, wake up. Mom’s leaving and you need to say good-bye.”

Rand climbed sleepily out of the truck. “Bye, Mom,” he said, yawning.

Rumer put her bags on the sidewalk and gave him a long hug. He was as tall as she was. She held him out at arm’s length, searched his face, and tried to smooth down his hair. “Be good for Dad,” she ordered. “And do your homework—before PlayStation!” She looked at Will. “That’s the rule now.”

“Got it,” he said with a wry smile—it was a rule he’d been trying to establish for years.

“Are you two going to be okay?”

“We’ll be fine—right, sport?” Will said reassuringly, putting his arm around Rand’s shoulder, pulling him closer. “Maybe we’ll even go fishing.”

Rand gave his mom a thumbs-up and Rumer eyed them suspiciously. “Promise me you’ll eat something besides pizza and McDonald’s.”

Rand grinned. “Yup, we’ll have Burger King and Wendy’s, too—right, Dad?”

Will teased, “Maybe we’ll even throw in some Chinese for good measure.”

Rumer frowned. “All that eating out won’t be good for your precious budget,” she said with a hint of sarcasm, but as soon as the words slipped out, she saw Will’s smile evaporate and she regretted it.

“Whatever.”

“I’m sorry,” she said, shaking her head. “Just take care of yourselves. I’ll call when I get there.”

Will nodded. “Say hi to your sisters.”

Rumer slung her backpack over her shoulder and turned to walk away but suddenly remembered their two-year-old black Lab. She turned around and realized her two men were still standing there, watching her go. “Don’t forget to feed Norman,” she called, “and, Rand, walk him when you get home from school. Pam said she’d take care of him if you decide to come. And, Will, please try to get Rand a haircut.”

Will nodded and Rand waved. Rumer smiled wistfully, waved back, and realized that a tall man wearing a Red Sox shirt was holding the door for her. She turned and hurried inside.

Standing in line, she rifled through her backpack, making sure she had everything—license, money, boarding pass, phone. She handed her pass to the attendant, slipped off her Keen mocs, dropped the shoes and the contents of her pockets into the bin, and walked through without incident. On the other side, she retrieved her belongings, slipped on her shoes, and looked around for a Dunkin’ Donuts. Will had been so early picking her up, she hadn’t had time for a cup of coffee—and she knew he wouldn’t have wanted to stop, so she didn’t even ask. Rand, on the other hand, who was now fully awake, would press his father until he gave in. In fact, her growing son was probably already wolfing down an Egg McMuffin and a carton of milk—because Will would say the OJ was too expensive.

Rumer spied a Dunkin’ Donuts at the end of a line of storefronts and waited in line. When she finally reached the counter, she’d decided on her usual, a medium hazelnut with cream, and, gazing at the donuts, asked for a plain cruller too. She found a seat, put her backpack between her feet, and broke off a small piece of the donut. Taking a bite and a sip of her coffee, she decided that plain donuts were, by far, the best to have with coffee; she couldn’t remember the last time she’d had one. She looked up at the departure board, realized her flight had been updated, and groaned. It was three hours late—What happened? She pulled her phone from her bag and texted Beryl. Then she leaned back in her seat, watched the cargo handlers loading a plane with luggage, and wondered what she would do for the next three hours. She looked out at the clear blue sky, watched the shimmering dots in the distance evolve into landing silver planes, and thought about Will. She shook her head sadly. Things had certainly changed—he didn’t even hug her good-bye anymore.

 

Rumer had met William Josiah Swanson III at a frat party when she was a freshman at the Rhode Island School of Design and he was a sophomore at Brown. She’d been watching him from across the room as he manned the keg at the Alpha Epsilon Pi luau, and he glanced up and caught her looking. Carrying two red plastic cups overflowing with foamy beer, he’d walked over and held one out. She’d hesitated; her experience with drinking up until that night had been passing around a bottle of Boone’s Farm with Isak and her friends in the woods at the end of their road—and the next morning, she’d had such a wicked headache she’d sworn she’d never drink again. But on that mild autumn night, the handsome undergrad with the friendly smile and dark eyes had caught her attention, and she didn’t want him to think she was just a kid—who didn’t drink—so, ignoring the alarms going off in her head and feigning nonchalance, she’d accepted, and then followed him out onto the porch where she continued her ruse by leaning against a railing that felt like it might give way at any moment.

They’d talked easily, the beer quickly having its effect; she discovered he was from New Hampshire, too, but was only in college to please his parents who were alums of the Ivy League school. She told him she had just started her foundation year at the art school down the hill and she hadn’t declared her major yet, but she was leaning toward illustration. She vaguely remembered that he’d replenished her cup once . . . twice? And then he’d started talking about going to the beach. In her tipsy state, she thought he meant the RISD beach—which was the grassy area in front of the freshman dorms where everyone hung out on sunny days—so she wondered why they would need a car to get there.

As they drove out of Providence, the mild, breezy air and swirling lights reminded her of the county fair back home, and the wind that drifted through the open windows of the car smelled like the cool, gray ocean. The next morning she woke up—uncertain of where she was or how she’d gotten there. Bleary-eyed, she’d looked around and noticed that all the furniture was draped in white sheets—except for the bed on which they lay—which was covered in a blue quilt. The smooth tan skin of Will’s back was uncovered and she realized she was wearing his shirt—thankfully, it was over her shirt. She wondered how much more of him was exposed under the quilt and tried to remember. When he woke up, he teased her for not remembering; but finally, with a long sigh of regret and a heart-melting grin, he revealed that she didn’t need to worry—nothing had happened.

Later, they’d closed up his parents’ beach house, stopped at Box Lunch for breakfast wraps and coffee, and walked along the deserted beach, watching the sandpipers being chased by the waves and listening to hungry seagulls begging for handouts. As the sun slipped from the sky, they’d finally made their way back to Providence and he’d kissed her good night under a streetlight on Benefit Street and promised to call.

The next several months had been a whirlwind. As the attraction between them grew, their strong-willed personalities surfaced—and the results were often tumultuous and tearful. So when Will proposed to Rumer three years later, on the night she graduated from RISD, everyone who knew and loved them held their breath and wondered if their fiery relationship could last.

 

Well, it had lasted, Rumer thought, sipping her coffee, for almost twenty-three years; but it hadn’t been easy. And now it looked as if the naysayers might have been right after all. Maybe they didn’t have what it takes to make it. The only thing holding them together was Rand. Tears stung Rumer’s eyes. At least her mom hadn’t lived to see them fall apart. She would’ve been heartbroken.