Song of the Brokenhearted (20 page)

Aunt Lorena screeched out her name, head half out the window as her man of the week drove the car. Ava wanted her mommy, but Aunt Lorena said she wasn't ever coming back.

Daddy didn't come to the funeral, though people came out to the house with their edible offerings and black clothing that reminded Ava of the black crows who gathered at the fence and stared with small, knowing eyes. He didn't officiate over the bodies of his ex-wife or her lover. Instead he barred himself inside his room during the first days after news of the car accident.

While Ava sat beneath a table covered in food, she overheard Aunt Lorena say, “That ungrateful whore got her just desserts.”

And so she'd run to the willows. She hid when Aunt Lorena tried to find her. She heard her aunt's panicked voice say, “We have to find the little witch before Danny finds out. I promised I'd keep an eye on the kids.”

Ava spent the night of her mother's funeral beneath the willows. She thought of her mother's perfume and the silk of her slip that she wore while doing her hair and putting on makeup. The night didn't stretch out long enough for Ava to get rid of the missing.

Clancy led them to her in the early morning light. Grannie and her aunts and uncles stared at her, ready to give her a beating, but Daddy carried her cradled against his chest as they held back like pit bulls on a chain. He set her down onto her bed and covered her dirty feet and scratched-up legs with the patchwork quilt.

After that day, Daddy split his time between the farm and an immaculate apartment in town. With Ava's mother dead, her daddy couldn't raise two kids on his own, so he shared them with his mother-in-law in a kind of ignorance that Ava would forever resent. Could he not see the raised marks that regularly covered their legs and back from the switch that hung next to Grannie's favorite chair?

A lady washed and pressed Daddy's clothes and the fancy set he kept for them. On weekends, they changed into the town clothes when they first arrived.

Being with Daddy meant church, usually all weekend. There were tent revivals and visiting evangelists. There were potlucks and socials. There were youth nights and kids' clubs and baptisms down by the river.

Daddy wore his pin that said "Rev. Daniel Henderson". He checked their faces, smoothed their hair, and at church, he cried while sharing how happy he was to have his children on the pew that week. He'd put his hand in the air and the church members would too, shouting and praising Jesus. Ava would look at the gleam of pride in Clancy's eye and wonder if her face showed a similar shine as well.

The crickets filled the night with a loud chorus of song. The frogs joined in, though they could never get the rhythm despite how they tried. The river lapped the soft shoreline, and sometimes the fireflies dotted the tops of the tall grasses and Ava put out her hand for one to land.

Ava's eyes focused on her backyard in Dallas that was decades beyond the memories. The immaculate landscaping. A pool house and pool like nothing she'd seen as a child. Once she and her brother, Clancy, had pressed their faces against a wooden fence where a knot had broken out. They could see the pool of the wealthiest family in town. The kids laughed and dove off the diving board, and it might as well have been Disneyland to the two of them—just one more place they'd never go.

Ava lived a life unlike any she'd dreamed of as that little girl. That little girl didn't know such a world existed.

She sometimes feared it was all made of paper, and any storm or fire or fist of God might smash it all to nothing. Perhaps He was doing just that after giving her too long a blessing, too long a time of feasting.
No, no, no
, she whispered, fighting the pull of the past.

Ava squeezed her arms tightly against her chest. A lone car traveled the suburban neighborhood. Tires against pavement, not gravel and dirt like the roads of her youth.

Every time she came to the tree, Ava couldn't escape her childhood. It was the safe place she'd run to in her past, and she didn't need it anymore.

Ava walked to the tool shed and opened the door. The automatic light switched on, and Ava spotted the ax hooked to a shelf.

She carried it back down the path and paused for a moment longer, gazing up at the drooping branches.

She swung hard and hit the trunk. The ax stuck into the wood, and Ava had to fight to pull it out. She swung again, and again.

Taking a breath, Ava could see the marks in the trunk like deep nicks in the wood. The trunk was less than a foot in diameter. She could do this, she told herself with her arms already aching.

It took half the night and hands covered in blisters and a close call when the tilting trunk nearly crushed her, but before dawn rose over the eastern sky, Ava's tree was on the ground.

Twenty-One

S
HE WOKE TO A QUIET HOUSE
. T
HE HEATER RUMBLED THROUGH
the vents, and her down comforter pressed upon her with a cozy warmth that she fought not to leave. She rolled to her side and felt achy all over. A glance at the clock told her it was after ten already, which shocked her, yet she didn't feel compelled to get up. As she tucked her hands under her chin, she cried out at the sting in her palms.

Sitting up, she opened achy hands to see them covered in dried blood and blisters.

The tree. She'd cut it down. Reminders were everywhere. Her cashmere pajamas and slippers that cost more than her first car were stained with blood and dirt. Muddy footprints made a trail from her bedroom door to the bed. She touched her face and head and tugged out leaves stuck in her tangled hair.

One glance in the mirror depicted her face as it had been decades ago. The tangles, the tear stains, the expression of loss . . . Ava felt as if she'd morphed back into the child she'd been.

She showered, opening her hands beneath the searing hot water, and scrubbed her fingernails, trying to get at the dirt. She wrapped herself in her robe, padding down the stairs. She'd never escape that little girl she'd been, no matter how often she shopped at Neiman Marcus or which Versace bag she bought. She was playing dress up, and now, finally, the game was over.

As she put Band-Aids on her blisters, Ava had a sense of relief that she didn't need to run from that girl any longer.

She made coffee and let her eyes sweep over the kitchen. It was as spotless as she'd left it yesterday, with only the mud-prints across the floor as evidence of the night before. She suddenly felt like she could be Alice in Wonderland.

Ava picked up the house phone where she'd left it on the counter and considered calling Dane. They'd be out on the river or climbing through the smooth rock canyons. She felt like she had so much to talk to Dane about, but the words would have to wait.

“Are you doing anything fun with your friends?” Dane had asked her before leaving with Jason.

“I don't have any money, what can I do?” Ava couldn't keep the bite of accusation from her tone. Usually, she would have taken this weekend with the girls—they'd drop in at the spa and return to her house exclaiming over how great they felt after massages, pedicures, facials, body wraps. They'd lounge around the pool, drink wine, and maybe catch a movie or local show.

“I have some money in the safe.” His voice remained full of optimism and hope, and that bugged her. Everything about him bothered her lately. Even his new habit of praying aloud irritated her. She was the spiritual one, and now he was telling her they should seek God more.

“We keep spending money. I wouldn't enjoy myself knowing it's going to be gone soon.”

“Yeah. But get some rest and do something fun. We're going to be all right.”

“I know,” Ava said. Why was his confidence so annoying? Was it a brave front? If so, she should be standing beside him, not joining ranks to make it all harder for him.

Self-pity—Ava was wallowing in it; she knew it and didn't care. A few days of feeling sorry for herself, under these circumstances . . . wasn't that acceptable?

She'd been in that shameful state when Dane drove away.

The coffee pot filled the house with a rich aroma. Ava opened her schedule to plot out her day, then realized she had nothing to plot after canceling everything. Maybe she'd stay in her pajamas the entire day. It was only Friday—she could stay in her pajamas the whole weekend if she wanted.

A screen appeared, showing that her laptop was trying to connect to the Internet but it wasn't working. A page appeared asking for a payment. Dane hadn't paid the bill and their Internet was turned off. Ava closed her laptop and went for her phone. She typed a message to Dane, then stopped herself from sending it.

Instead Ava carried her Bible from her desk and chose one of the coffee mugs from the set she and Dane had bought in Hawaii one year. They were handmade with a deep forest pottery and etched with palms and hibiscus flowers. They'd planned another trip to Maui, but the wedding plans had changed that. Now there'd be neither.

A hard knock on the door disrupted her thoughts, followed by several rings to the doorbell. The chimes echoed through the house again and again.

No
, Ava groaned. This was not a morning to be sociable.

Perhaps it was simply a troop of Girl Scouts selling their cookies. But no, not on a school morning. Or a Jehovah's Witness. Ava could take a pamphlet and be alone again. It might be UPS, but she hadn't heard the rumble of the brown van coming up the road.

Usually Ava could distinguish a warped shape through the stained glass double doors, but nothing moved as she padded quietly toward the front door. She peeked through a square of clear glass, but no one was there. Just as she turned away, something on the cobblestone walkway caught her eye.

What was that? Perhaps a package after all.

Pushing the door open a crack, she suddenly flung it fully open while it felt as if the blood froze in her veins.

She stared at the sight.

Resting neatly on the doormat that read "Welcome To Our Home" sat a car seat with a pink blanket stretched over the carry bar. The seat sat on a base, the kind you keep in the car to easily snap the seat in and out.

Two tiny, sock-covered feet stuck out from under the blanket.

Ava looked down the driveway and then up and down her street. There was no one in sight.

She took several steps forward, half expecting some prank ster to jump out and start laughing, then bent low to peer beneath the blanket.

Lifting a corner, she gasped, dropped the blanket, and took several steps backward, banging her back against the door frame. “What in the world?”

A bird chirped and Ava heard the sound of cars down at the main intersection. Then a slight breeze touched the edge of the blanket, drawing her back for another look inside.

She peered in again. A baby slept with her head resting against the side of the car seat. As Ava watched her, the baby's mouth moved, making a sucking sound as if she dreamt of milk. The pink car seat, frilly dress, and headband made it obvious that the baby was a girl.

Then Ava saw the note.

A white envelope stood upright, resting near the baby's feet. It had her name written on the front.

“What?” she muttered, picking up the envelope and hoping the baby wouldn't wake up.

Dear Aunt Ava,

I've been glad that we've been talking. It's been real nice. I kind of guessed that you never heard that I got pregnant even, but I did. This is my baby girl, Emma Louise Sterling. I call her Emma. She was born June 22nd. She was a small little thing, maybe cause I sometimes sneaked a cigarette when I was pregnant. I felt awfully bad about that, but I couldn't help myself. I've gotten in all kinds of trouble because of taking the easy road. That's what Grannie tells me. Everyone in the family says that you have everything. They say that you left your family behind because you've got it all and now you're too high and mighty with your fancy house and fancy husband and fancy life. But I'd leave our family behind too if I could have a good life, and especially if I could give Emma everything. So I decided if I can't give her all that she should have, I want you to take her and raise her right.

Ava hurried past the car seat and ran out to the road. She spotted someone sitting in an old car with a faded hood a few houses up. It was certainly not the type of car usually seen on these streets. Ava tried to get a better look and suddenly the engine roared to life. The car jerked forward as the driver put it into gear, then it raced past her house.

“Bethany, wait!” Ava called to the girl behind the wheel. She caught one panicked expression as the girl looked her way before zipping past and then around the corner down the street.

Ava still held the note in her hand.

It breaks my heart to do this. She might not believe that I love her as I do since I'm just leaving her here for you. But I do. My Emma is the most beautiful, miraculous thing I've ever seen in my lousy sixteen years. I hope she'll understand and forgive me for this some day.

You are family. I'm believing that you haven't forgotten that. So please, take good care of my Emma. Please give her the life she can't have with me.