Mother (11 page)

A soft sound caught his attention. He turned.

The mumbling came from the potting shed and, through one of the windows, he saw movement. It was Prissy; he could see the outline of her smoothly-coiffed unnaturally black hair on the other side of the glass. She made a broad sweeping gesture with her hands. Then she giggled.

Jason’s breath caught when a door slammed. It was Claire at the top of the stairs. “I was going to-”

Jason raised his finger to his lips.

Claire went silent and crept down the steps. “What is it?” she whispered.

Jason pointed to the potting shed. “Your mother’s in there. I think she’s talking to herself.”
 

Claire raised a brow. “Of course she is,” she whispered. “She always needs to be making noise. She doesn’t like silence. She says it makes her nervous.”

Jason smiled. “Don’t be so hard on her. She’s probably lonely.”

Prissy giggled.

Claire shook her head. “She’s always done that. Even with people around. It’s embarrassing.” She looked down at the bottle in Jason’s hand.

“Cider.” He raised it. “To celebrate.” He kept his voice at a whisper.

In the background, Mother said, “Of course I’ll win the Snapdragon Festival this year!”

Claire’s eyes darted to the potting shed. She crossed her eyes and made a swirling motion at her temple.

“Well, at least she’s having a good time.” Jason grinned.

“I’m on my way to see my dad. Care to join me?”

He suddenly felt nervous.
 

Claire poked him in the ribs. “You’re not anxious about meeting my father, are you?”

Jason shrugged. “Maybe a little.”
 

“You’re adorable. But don’t worry. He’ll love you. Come on.” She took his free hand and they headed into the house.

Pink Roses and Ribbons

Fred Martin was a captive in his own body and had been since Carlene had been little more than a toddler. Since the accident had taken his legs all those years ago - such a foolish, ridiculous thing, falling off a ladder - he’d seen little but this room.
 

Carlene hadn’t been easy around him once she saw the droop in his face and heard his garbled speech. Priscilla had told him he terrified their daughter, and wasn’t going to make her visit him. The girl thought her own father was the bogeyman, Priscilla had said. He understood and wished he’d died in that accident.

And then yesterday, after years of silence, he thought he heard Carlene’s voice - and that of a young man’s. Just now, when he rolled onto the balcony and looked across the way and saw her, he thought she was a hallucination. Lord knew he’d had plenty of those over the last twenty-odd years. Carlene had smiled and waved, and he did the same. He hoped she was real.

Upstairs, Claire tried the door, but the knob turned uselessly. The deadbolt was locked.
 
Of course.
It wasn’t a skeleton key lock like Mother had kept on her room and Tim’s, and the bathroom they used, but a proper, modern lock.
I guess she doesn’t feel the need to peek through the keyhole at him like she did us.
God, she’d hated living in Mother’s house.
Dad must hate it even more,
she thought as she looked at the narrow side table where Mother kept medicines, towels, and a pitcher of water. A glass rested on a round white doily; she lifted it, felt under the doily and found the key.
 

“She keeps him locked in here?” Jason fingered the dried blue statice bouquet behind the pitcher. A dried-flower wreath hung on the door, all pink roses and ribbons. Every door had a wreath and there were small side tables of vases holding dried flowers lining the entire corridor.
 

“If he gets out, he could hurt himself on the stairs. After a near-miss, she began locking the door with
that
.” She looked at the lock. “That’s a double deadbolt - so he can’t let himself out.

“It seems cruel to lock him away.”

“It
is
cruel.” Claire slid the key in, turned it, and the lock clicked. The door swung open. They stared into the room. The last dregs of sunlight shone through the slider, a thick swarm of dust-motes swirled lazily in the light.
 

Her father sat by the slider and, as they entered, he began turning his chair in a half-circle to face them.

“Dad?”
 

Her father’s dark eyes, encircled in folds of gray flesh, turned watery. He raised his hands and they quivered in the air a moment; he was reaching out to her.

Claire approached and bent to embrace him. His weak arms circled her and he tried to say her name, but could only manage “Carrrr.”

“Dad, I’ve missed you,” she said when she finally broke the hug. His shoulders were so thin they creaked; she was afraid of breaking him. She had dim memories of a tall strong man holding her in his arms, though it might have been Timothy, not Dad. Her memories were blurred.

He studied her with his brown eyes. They were sharp, full of intelligence.

“Dad, I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize …”

“Misss,” he drawled slowly, painfully. “You.” His eyes traveled to Jason.
 

“Dad, this is my husband, Jason Holbrook. Jason, this is my dad, Frederick Martin.”

“Fredddd,” he said.

Jason stepped forward and shook the old man’s outstretched hand. “Good to meet you, sir.”

Fred grimaced a smile and nodded.

“We’re staying here for a little while,” Claire said. “Jason is going to be teaching at the flight school at Snapdragon Airport. He’s a pilot.”

Fred nodded, his eyes bright and full. “Youu?”

“I’m a graphic artist now. I design websites for people. I own my own business.”

Fred cocked his head.

“I’ll explain later,” Claire promised. “By the way, you’re going to be a grandfather.”

The old man beamed and looked from her abdomen to her face.

“In seven months,” she said.
 

He made a sound of delight. Then his face changed and he looked at the door.

Claire followed his gaze. “She’s coming?”

He nodded.
 

Mother rushed into the room in a wave of sickly-sweet perfume, a glass of water in her hand. Her gaze trapped Claire. “I’d rather you’d have let me know you were going to pay your father a visit. He has several nap times during the day and we don’t want to interrupt his sleep. And as it happens,” she said, reaching into her pocket, “it’s time for his medication.” She withdrew an amber prescription bottle and bustled toward him. Unscrewing the cap, she shook several white pills into her palm.

Something flashed in Fred’s eyes.

“He hates taking his medication, but …” She sighed. “Doctor’s orders.” She brought her hand to his mouth, pushed in the pills, then held the glass of water to his lips.

He raised a shaking hand and placed it on Mother’s wrist.

“He likes to help,” Mother said to Claire, who thought it looked more like he was trying to push her away. Finished, she stood back and gave her husband a sweet smile. “You always were so independent, Frankl-Frederick.”
 

Claire wondered if she ever got anyone’s name right. And if it bothered him that she’d almost called him by his brother’s name after all these years.

“Now then,” said Mother, facing Claire and Jason. “That’s enough excitement for one day. Your father needs to nap.” She looked at her husband and bellowed. “Are you ready for your nap?”

He winced and shook his head.

Mother fluttered her hand in the air. “Nonsense. It’s nap time.” She got behind his chair and wheeled him toward the bed. “Why don’t you kids go downstairs? I have to check his didey.”
 

Dad cringed, his face red with embarrassment. Then he looked at the bed and shook his head again. “Mother,” Claire began, “I-”

“You two have plenty of time to play catch up, Claire. You can talk to your father later.”

“Mother, Dad can talk. Why don’t you let him?”

Priscilla shook her head. “I’m sorry, dear. He just makes sounds. Don’t you remember? It’s not just nerve damage, there’s brain damage as well.” She gave Claire a sweet, sad look. “I know you want your daddy, really I do. We all want him back. But he’s gone.”

“
Mother!
He’s not gone and he knows exactly what you’re saying. He’s not deaf, either. If you’d pay attention, you’d know that.”
 

“I’ve been the
only
one paying attention to him for years, and I’ve seen what I thought were moments of clarity, too. But Dr. Hopper has assured me that isn’t the case, and I don’t want you to get your hopes up the way I did. It’s a very heartbreaking situation, Car-Claire.”

“Carrrrl-”
 

Her dad’s eyes were on her, pleading.

“Run along, now,” said Mother. “Your father needs to maintain his self-respect and diaper-changing is a bit awkward, as you can imagine.” She bent and hooked her arms under his.
 

“Do you need any help?” asked Jason.

Mother frowned. “I’ve been managing him all by myself for many years now, Jason, sweetheart. You do know I’m a registered nurse, don’t you?” She glanced at Claire. “But I appreciate the offer.”
 

Feast Your Eyes

“I think I’m really going to like this job,” said Jason, taking a seat on the recliner Monday evening. “It already feels rewarding.” He frowned at the TV. “I still need to get that thing set up. Maybe I should speak to your mother about getting the satellite people to take a look. Something’s wrong. I can’t figure it out.”

Claire emptied the day’s compartment of vitamins into her mouth, chased them with a glass of water, then replaced the pill organizer in the drawer before planting herself on the sofa. She hoped the vitamins would revive her - she’d woken up tired and it hadn’t gotten any better. “No rush,” she said. “So you enjoyed your first day?”
 

“I really did. It’s not flying, but it’s the next best thing. You know, when life gives you lemons …”

“Make lemonade,” Claire finished. “So, you think you’ll enjoy being an instructor?”

“I do. Seriously, I’ve got several really strong students I’m pretty excited about. I think two of them might even have commercial airline potential.”

Claire watched her husband. She knew he was still heartbroken about giving up flying, but she admired his willingness to accept what life had handed him. You’re so good for me.”

Jason cocked a brow. “How do you mean?”

She shrugged. “You just have a great attitude. I adore that about you. I mean it.”

Jason shifted in his seat. “Thank you.”

She smiled. “Now tell me more about your job.”
 

“Well, it’s
almost
flying.” His eyes brightened the way they always did when he talked about his passion. “We did some computer simulations that were a lot of fun - it’s almost like being in the cockpit again.” He grinned. “What about you? How was your day?”

“I did a lot of eating,” she said. “Seriously. This pregnancy business is going to make me fat. Will you still love me if I get fat?”

“Of course, I’ll still love you. I’ll miss you, but I’ll still love you.” He laughed.

Claire threw a pillow at him. “Other than eating, I worked on the business - mostly trying to get things in order. I need to build my client list, do some advertising. It’ll take time.” She made a face. “I’m thinking of taking an ad out in the paper and drumming up some local business, too.”

“Good idea.” Jason stood and headed into the kitchen. “I’m glad you’re back at it, but remember what Dr. Lightfoot said: Take it real easy, especially in the first trimester.” He reappeared in the doorway, a diet soda in one hand and a piece of bread in the other. “Did you get a referral from him yet?”

“Not yet. There are only so many obstetricians in town, so I hope he finds me a good one.”

Jason took a bite out of the bread. “Do you want anything to eat?”

“Absolutely not. I’ve had plenty. Don’t tempt me.”

“So, what about your mom’s doctor? Hopper? Is he any good?”

Claire frowned. “I don’t want the same doctor as my mother. She gets too close to people, and I wouldn’t want them discussing my business.” She heard Mother’s car starting downstairs.

Jason moved to the window and stared out. “Speaking of your mother, where is she off to?”

Claire looked at the clock. “A Ladies Auxiliary Meeting. She’ll be there until ten. She told me all about it. At length.” She grimaced as Mother’s BMW hummed away in the darkness. “Would you like to go see my dad with me? I want to pay him another visit.”

“You’ve been waiting for her to leave to go see him, haven’t you?”

“Guilty as charged. I’d like to spend some uninterrupted time with him.”

“Maybe I should stay here, then.”

“No,” said Claire. “I’d really like you to come. It still feels kind of weird, you know? Actually talking to him?” She knew her father was far more alert than Mother claimed. It was eating at her; she needed to know more.

“All right,” said Jason. “Do you want to head over now?”

“Let’s go.”
 

“The key’s not here.” Claire spoke softly so as not to disturb her father in case he was sleeping.
 

“Maybe your mother forgot to put it back.”

“Mother never forgets. She removed the key on purpose. She doesn’t want us going in unsupervised.”

Jason touched her elbow and guided her away from the door. “Maybe, but we can’t do anything about it now, so how about you give me a tour?”

She looked at the door, knowing Mother would have made sure she couldn’t find the key.
Sorry, Dad.
“A tour? What do you want to see?”

“Everything.” He grinned. “Let’s start with your old room.”

“Okay, but it’s probably full of more of Mother’s junk.” She squared her shoulders, refusing to acknowledge the knots in her belly.

“Show me everything!”

 
“Follow me.”
 

She led him halfway down the hall and as she paused in front of her old bedroom, a voice suddenly echoed in her mind.
“Touch them! Touch them, Carlene!”
It was the voice she’d heard in her dream when they’d been driving to Snapdragon.
“Touch them!”