Written on My Heart (13 page)

“It's time to go,” I said to Arlee. She whimpered as I picked her up and hurried us off the beach. I passed Ida's house and headed toward the Buttses'. I was glad to see Madeline's car was in the driveway. She was as close as I could get to Dottie at the moment. She flung open the door before I could knock.

“Well, I hoped you'd come over,” she crowed. “Hi, sweet cheeks!” she said to Arlee. Arlee smiled and Madeline took her in her arms.

“Come on in,” she called to me over her shoulder.

Madeline swept paint tubes and a couple of canvases over to one side of her kitchen table, which, when I thought about it, had never been clear, and pulled out a chair for me. “Sit down,” she said. “Want a cookie? Of course you do,” she said to Arlee.

“Me too,” I said as she pulled a homemade snickerdoodle out of the old beehive cookie jar.

“I can do that,” Madeline said. “Where's your baby boy?”

“Ida has him for a couple of hours.”

“Well, of course she does,” Madeline said. I saw flashes of Evie in her dark hair and blue eyes. “Have some milk, munchkin,” she said to Arlee, and she fetched it for her in a blue plastic cup. Madeline said to me, “How you making out over there? You glad to be back?”

“I am, kind of. No, I am glad.”

“Kind of? Something wrong?”

“I missed it all winter. I'm glad to be in Grand's house. It's home.”

“You like living in the trailer?”

“I like being back with Bud. The trailer's okay.”

“So, how come you said you were only kind of glad to be here?”

“I don't think about Carlie so much when I'm there. Here, she pops up like a ghost.”

“Oh, honey, I imagine she does! Wouldn't she be glad to see you and these beautiful babies, though? She'd want you to be happy. I'm sure of that.”

“Yeah. But I'm getting tired of being reminded of her not being here.”

“Well, of course. But no matter where you are, you got two things of your own to keep you on track for at least the next eighteen or so years.”

A car door slammed. Tires spewed rocks and gravel as the car spun up the hill. Evie walked into the house, all swagger and smirks.

“Hey,” she said.

“That Justin?” Madeline said.

“Was,” Evie said. “Better get used to hearing a new name.”

“Broke up with him?”

“Yup. Hi, sweetie pie!” Evie put her heart-shaped face up to Arlee's and rubbed turned-up noses with her, which made Arlee giggle.

“Can I have her? We can go play dolls,” Evie said, holding out her
arms. I passed Arlee over and Evie stuck her on one luscious hip and sashayed out of the room.

Madeline shook her head. “How could two kids be so friggin' different?” she muttered. “That one's going to be the death of me, for sure.”

I didn't have much to say about that. I hadn't been such an angel.

“I mean”—Madeline lowered her voice—“she's a wild woman. Doesn't listen to a thing I say. I grounded her last week for sneaking out in the middle of the night. She just looked at me and said, ‘I'm going out anyway.' Even Bert can't handle her. She's going to get knocked up by somebody if she don't watch out.”

I clicked my tongue and shook my head. “I need to get Travis,” I said. “Mind if I leave Arlee?”

“'Course,” Madeline said. “It'll keep Evie out of trouble for five minutes or so.”

But in the five minutes it took to pick up Travis, Evie fed Arlee half a bag of M&M's.

“She loved them,” Evie told me as she brought her to the Buttses' front door.

“I'll bet,” I said.

Evie widened her bluebird-colored eyes. “Did I do something bad?”

“Might keep her up. I'll let you know. Thanks for watching her.”

Arlee ran across the road to the house and jumped up and down until I let her in. “Going to be a long night, Trav,” I said to her brother.

And it was. Arlee tossed her spaghetti around and Travis fussed and didn't drink much formula. Arlee bounced from ceiling to floor. Travis was happy to go down. Arlee fiddle-farted around downstairs with me until ten o'clock, when her crabby self ran smack into a wall of restless sleep. I put her to bed and called Bud in Stoughton Falls.

“Don't give our kids candy near to bedtime,” I said when he picked up the phone.

“Okay,” he said. “Why?”

I told him, and then I went on with the news of the day.

He told me which cars were in the garage and what they needed
done to them. “Car got towed in today. Old man drove up on a boulder in his driveway so he wouldn't hit his cat. Did a hell of a job to the car. Later, a lady comes in, swears she put a quart of oil in the tank when it was down. Engine almost seized up. Sure she did.”

I didn't answer him.

“Florine? You okay?” Bud said.

“Bud, I got something on Saturday. One of those letters.”

“What letters?” he said. “Wait. Another ‘I love you forever' letter? What the hell?”

Before he got too wound up, I said, “Now, wait, let me read this.” I opened the junk drawer and took out the letter. I read it to him.

“Holy shit,” Bud said. “Who's ‘C'? Where the hell did that come from?”

“I don't know. Carlie? It's different writing too. I don't know what to do with it.”

“Give them both to Parker. This is bullshit.”

“Why give them to Parker?”

“Well, it's weird. And maybe, just maybe now, it might have something to do with Carlie, and he would want to know. Or maybe someone's just trying to drive you crazy.”

“I know,” I said. “I know.”

“Give 'em to Parker,” Bud said. “That's all you can do.”

We said our I-love-yous and talked about what we would do to each other if we were sharing the same bed and then we said our good-nights.

I hung up the phone, clicked off the downstairs lights, went out to the porch, and rocked back and forth for a long time.

S
heriff Parker Clemmons had given me his word that he would never give up looking for my mother. As far as I knew, he never had. I called him about the letters and he came by. He wasn't too pleased with me for handling the envelopes and notes.

“Probably not going to be able to get any prints from these,” Parker growled, “what with you touching 'em.”

“Sorry,” I said. “Do you think someone might have sent these to Carlie?”

“Can't say. No names, no prints; postmarks, but no return addresses,” Parker said. “I'll put them in the file. You let me know if something else like this happens again, right away.” He smiled down at Arlee, who had been staring at him with her thumb in her mouth ever since he'd knocked at the front door. She didn't smile back.

“It's the uniform,” Parker said. “Gets 'em every time.” I walked him out.

“Bye,” Arlee said as he drove away.

“Oh, now you're going to talk?” I said.

The screen door on my father's house slammed and I saw Stella walking toward us. Her black hair soaked up the sun, even as her white face pushed it away. She looked straight-line sober. “Hello,” she said. “Two redheads standing in the spring sun. What a nice sight to see on this beautiful day.” Arlee grabbed onto my leg.

“Hello,” I said.

“Everything okay?”

“Yes.”

“Well, I wondered, what with Parker stopping by.”

“What can I do for you?” I asked.

“Well, I haven't seen the baby yet,” she said.

“He's sleeping,” I said.

“Heard you had quite a time carrying him.”

“Wasn't a party, that's for sure.”

“You're okay now?”

“Doing okay.”

“I'm doing okay too,” she said. “Better, now that Grace is gone.”

“She said goodbye,” I said.

“Surprised she did. She's not much for talking.”

Arlee left my side and wandered into the side garden.

“Can't get over how much she looks like . . .” Stella said.

“I know,” I said.

Travis began to cry. “Arlee, we need to go in,” I called to my daughter. I said to Stella, “Now would be as good a time as any to see Travis.” Lest she be carrying a weapon yet to be seen, I made her walk in front of me as we went through the door.

She stood in the kitchen as I picked up my son from the bassinet on the porch.

“Here he is,” I said.

“Oh my god,” she said, and her hand flew up to cover her mouth.

“I know,” I said. “He looks like Daddy.”

“Spitting image.” Stella sniffed. She wiped tears from her eyes.

“You can touch him, if you want to,” I said.

“Really?” she said. She put one shaky hand on his head and stroked the curly fuzz there. Travis looked her over, his blue eyes steady. “Hi, baby,” she said, her smile young and naked. Travis's pale eyebrows rose and the corners of his mouth turned up.

“Oh!” Stella said. “What a sweetheart!”

“That's gas,” I said. “He farted on my arm. He's too little to smile.”

“No, it wasn't,” Stella said. “It was a real smile.”

“Suit yourself. He needs a change and we need to get supper ready.”

“I won't keep you,” Stella said. “Thanks for letting me see him.” She let herself out.

I looked down at Arlee. “Did I almost just have a nice talk with Stella?” I asked her.

“Jeeza,” Arlee said.

It was only Tuesday, so I was surprised when Bud drove down from Stoughton Falls.

I hugged and kissed him and said, “To what do I owe this unexpected visit?”

“I missed the hell out of you,” he said. “Cecil gave me Wednesday morning off. I'm going to work late tomorrow and Thursday.”

As I fed him a late supper, I updated him on Parker's and Stella's separate visits and anything else that had gone on since Monday morning.

That night, we couldn't seem to keep our body parts separate. Travis only interrupted us once. In the morning, we looked like love-wrecked survivors. Bud's lips were puffy, and beard rash peppered my chin and cheeks.

At breakfast, in between kid chores, we locked eyes and smiled. Then he set to his over-easy eggs as if it were the most important meal he had ever eaten.

“Those eggs must be some good,” I said. “You okay?”

He swallowed, put down his fork, looked at me, and said, “I don't think this is working out.”

“What isn't working out?” I said.

“This. You and me . . .”

“What the hell do you mean?” I said, my voice razor thin.

“Calm down,” Bud said. “Jesus, don't go off—”

“You can't say something like that and expect—”

“Settle down, for chrissake,” Bud said. He stared me down. “You calm? Good. What I'm trying to say is I ain't happy not having you at home. I want you to come back to Stoughton Falls.”

My heart tripped, then steadied. “Now?”

“No. I figure you stay through the Fourth of July, and then we go back. Christ, Florine, I miss you. The other night, I talked to myself in the bathroom mirror.”

“Was it a nice conversation?”

“Compared to most of the people I talk to every day, yes, it was a damn good talk. But that ain't the point.”

“This is The Point,” I said. “My Point.”

“Mine too,” Bud said. “I was brought up right down the hill. Don't be a smartass.”

That was like telling me not to breathe. I stared at Grand's old, square, red plastic clock on the kitchen wall. “I should dust that clock,” I said.

“That it? That what you got to say?”

“That's a lot to spring on me at breakfast,” I said. I got up, set Travis down in the bassinet, wet a clean washcloth, took it over to Arlee's high chair, and wiped banana goo from her cheeks.

“I know it's a lot,” Bud said. “I wasn't going to say nothing, but I only been gone a week and Travis is that much bigger. Hell, Arlee looks a year older. I don't want to be someone that comes and goes.”

“You told me we could stay here for the summer,” I said. We looked at each other for a few seconds and then I turned and walked out onto the porch.

Bud's chair scraped as he stood up and walked over to me. He didn't touch me, but his voice went deep, melting my heart. “I know you don't want to leave,” he said. “I know what I'm asking you to do. I know it's hard.”

The summer sky was so blue it made my eyes smart. The tides promised to mark our days, to keep our place, whether we were there or not. But summertime was not back in a trailer on the side of the road. Hell, I thought. “After the Fourth of July,” I said, not making an effort to hide my long, loud sigh. “We'll go with you then.”

“Sounds good,” Bud said. “I been cutting the lawn out in front of the trailer. Looks nice. Bet you could make it look some pretty with flowers. Maybe you can bring some of Grand's with you.”

“Suppose I could,” I said. “I'm going for a walk. Watch the kids for a while?” Without waiting for his reply, I kissed Arlee's head as I walked toward the front hall.

“I have to leave in about an hour,” Bud called.

“I'll be back in time,” I said.

I decided to take a seldom-used path through the park. To get to it, I skirted a pile of brush put there by the park rangers to block its faint presence. It was one I knew well, having taken it to and from Andy Barrington's cottage the winter we'd been together.

Just before I reached the edge of the woods that led to their place, I took a right onto a path as thin as a child's eyebrow that petered at a little clearing. Not much had changed in the year or two since I'd been there; the blueberry and juniper bushes were a tad taller, but the three flat rocks in the center of the clearing were still the perfect place to sit and think. I had gone there often after Carlie's disappearance, just to be alone and to talk to her in private. This time, though, I needed to take in what Bud had just sprung on me. I sat down, closed my eyes, and raised my face to the sun. A crow cawed as it passed close by. Something small rustled in the bushes. I whispered, “I don't want to go.”

“Go where?” someone said, and I jumped to my feet in one leap.

Maureen stood in front of me, her light-brown eyes smiling.

“You scared the crap out of me,” I said.

“Sorry,” she said. “I didn't know you knew about this place. It's so pretty. I like talking to God here better than I do in church, but don't tell my mother. If I wait long enough, seems like Jesus and everyone else pops by.”

“I guess,” I said. “Who else?”

“Dad, mostly. I tell him the things I've always wanted to say to him. And sometimes, Grand comes by. She's funny. We have good talks.”

“You remember Grand?”

“Of course. Sometimes I used to wish I could live with her.”

“Would have been nice to have you for a sister,” I said. “I've been coming here for a while, to talk to my mother.”

Maureen frowned into the sun. “I don't remember her.”

“You were five when she disappeared,” I said. Maureen shifted her weight from one long leg to the other.

“Let's sit down,” I said. “Pull up a rock.”

She grinned. We sat down on the rocks and she snuggled against me. “I'm so glad you're married to Bud,” she said.

“Me too,” I said.
Mostly
, I added to myself.

“I knew you were the one he liked, all along. He liked Susan, but I could tell he liked you better.”

“Well, he put on a good show of pretending he didn't.”

Susan and Bud actually had been pretty serious, until I stuck myself between them. I hadn't played fair, but I wasn't sorry for that. I had Bud, and I was sure Susan was happy wherever she had ended up.

Maureen said, “Don't tell him I told you this, but when he was going out with Susan, he used to stand outside after she drove off for the night and look up at Grand's house till all the lights went out.”

“Imagine that,” I said. “What were you doing awake back then?”

“I don't sleep much,” Maureen said.

“Come on up and give Travis his two a.m. bottle, in that case.”

“I will if you want.”

“I can manage. Anyway, we won't be here much longer.”

“Why not?”

“Bud wants us to go back to Stoughton Falls. He misses us, he says.”

“No!” Maureen jumped up. “You just got here. You can't go.”

“We're staying through the Fourth of July,” I said.

“Want me to tell him to go pound sand?”

I smiled. “I want to be with him, Maureen. I want to be here too, but for now, I'll go back with him. Maybe we'll be able to stay longer next summer. We might be down for the holidays.”

Maureen sat back down and we went quiet for a minute, while she
talked to Jesus or Sam or maybe Grand and I thought about what the heart makes clear. I had just told Maureen I wanted to be with Bud, and that was the bald truth. Suddenly, she said, “I'm worried about Glen.”

“I know,” I said. “I am too.”

“I don't know why he wanted me to stop writing to him. I would think that a letter would cheer him up. I admire him. He's brave.”

“He is,” I agreed. “He's very brave.”

Without warning, my babies gripped my heart and shook it. I said to Maureen, “I need to get back. Bud has to leave soon.”

“I'll come too,” she said. We pulled each other up and walked up the path to the crossroads. We looked right, toward the Barringtons'. I shivered. Maureen said in a near whisper, “The man in that house is creepy.”

“Which man?” I whispered back.

“He's the dad of the guy you used to go out with. Andy's dad. I used to think that Andy was cute, but my mom prayed for you to stop seeing him, and Bud didn't like him much either.”

“Why do you think that Edward is creepy?” I asked her as we turned left.

“Well, once . . . don't tell my mom, I was in the clearing and I heard someone coming up the path. I hid behind the juniper bushes. He got to the rocks and he knelt down and cried and yelled to himself for what seemed like forever. It was weird.”

Edward came to the clearing? I shuddered. “He is creepy. Stay away from him.”

“I can outrun him. He's an old guy.”

“Don't get near enough so that you have to do that. Stay away from him. Promise?”

“I feel bad for saying that he was creepy. Jesus says there's good in everyone.”

“I guess so, but just stay away from him. You can pray for him, you can hope for the best for him, but just stay away.”

“Don't tell any of this to my mother,” Maureen said.

“I won't,” I said.

She put her arm around my shoulders. “Let's walk and talk again, okay?” she asked.

“Sure,” I said. We began to hurry. I swore I heard Travis crying before I got to The Cheeks, but when I got home, he was sound asleep.