Woman in Blue

by Eileen Goudge

  “You like living with your folks?” she asked him.

  “Sure,” he said, then sighed. “I know—kiss of death, right? Guys my age who are still living at home have about as much chance of scoring with a chick as Quasimodo. Believe me, I’d love nothing more than to have my own place, but they depend on me, you know? My dad’s got arthritis, so he needs help with stuff he used to be able to do himself. Which means I have to be up, like, way early to help him offload the catch and put away the nets before I leave for work. I do my baking at night, so that doesn’t leave much time for stuff like, say, a life.”

  “What about your brothers and sisters—can’t they help?”

  “They do what they can, but they all have lives of their own. I’m the youngest, which means I’m stuck. It was either take care of numero uno, knowing my parents would have to struggle on their own, or do the right thing. I knew I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I left them in the lurch. Which is why, at the advanced age of twenty-four, I still live with my folks.” He looked over at her and added with a rueful laugh, “Pitiful, huh?”

  “I think it’s nice.” Though admittedly there had been a time in her life when a grown man living with his folks would have had less chance of getting into her pants than a guy with a prison record. “Anyway, I’m hardly one to talk. Look at me—I’m living with my sister, and I don’t even know how much help I am. Sometimes I get the feeling I’m doing more harm than good.”

  “I’m sure that’s not true,” Ollie said.

  “Oh? What about the other night?” Kerrie Ann reminded him. “All I had to do was babysit a bunch of book-club ladies for a couple of hours, and I couldn’t even manage that.”

  “Don’t forget I was there, too. And how were we supposed to know one of them was a shoplifter?”

  True, none of those women had looked remotely suspicious. They ranged in age from late twenties to early seventies, but they all appeared respectable and trustworthy, the kind of people you wouldn’t think twice about turning your back on in a roomful of merchandise. And yet when she’d done just that, one of them had filched eighty bucks’ worth of books. Worse, since no one was owning up to the crime, there was no recourse. After talking to some of the other ladies, she’d pegged the newest club member as the culprit—a young woman who’d arrived carrying an enormous handbag and who’d ducked out before the meeting was over, muttering an excuse about needing to relieve her child’s babysitter—but without proof, there was nothing that could be done about it.

  “Yeah, well, somebody’s still gonna have to pay for it, and unless they catch the thief, that person will be my sister.” Kerrie Ann sighed as she stared out the window at the landscape gliding past—they were passing through King City, along a stretch of highway lined with shopping malls, warehouses, and discount outlets—recalling the look of resignation on Lindsay’s face, one that said, I shouldn’t have expected more from you, which was worse than if she’d gotten pissed. “Let’s face it, if I was getting paid for this job, I’d have been fired by now.”

  “Don’t be so hard on yourself,” Ollie said. “You’re still learning the ropes, and that takes time. The important thing is you’re trying.”

  “With my sister, I get the feeling that isn’t good enough.” Or, more to the point, that she wasn’t good enough.

  “She’ll come around. I know her. It’s just that change is hard for her, and this is a big one.”

  “Like it’s so easy for me?” Kerrie Ann shot back with an obstinate tilt of her chin.

  What she didn’t say was that in many ways she loved her new life. Her sister’s was the first real home she’d known. She’d even grown to appreciate the peace and quiet of country life, which had almost driven her up a wall her first week living there. And work, when she wasn’t messing up, felt like a real job, not just punching a time clock. She only wished she didn’t feel as if she were walking around on eggshells with her sister.

  Yesterday, for instance, they had been getting dressed for work when she’d noticed Lindsay surreptitiously checking her out. Finally it grew unnerving, and she confronted her sister. “What? Do I have a stain on my skirt, a zit on my chin? Am I missing a button?”

  Lindsay feigned innocence. “Did I say anything?”

  “You didn’t have to. It’s the way you’re always looking at me. Like you’d be embarrassed to be seen in public with me or something.”

  “That’s silly. Why would I be embarrassed to be seen with you?” Lindsay ducked her head to button her blouse, but not before Kerrie Ann caught the telltale redness in her cheeks. Busted, she thought.

  “Maybe because you think I dress like a tramp?”

  Lindsay slowly brought her head up, and this time her eyes met Kerrie Ann’s in a level gaze. “I don’t think that. Though I do wonder why someone as pretty as you feels the need to show off. You don’t have to, you know. Men would still look at you if you weren’t wearing clothes that gave them X-ray vision.” Pointedly she eyed the tight top and miniskirt Kerrie Ann was wearing.

  It was Kerrie Ann’s turn to blush. She refused to look away, though, because it would have been like admitting defeat. She went on staring at Lindsay in defiance until finally it was Lindsay who looked away. But her sister’s words had hit a nerve. She found herself recalling when, at fourteen, she had blossomed overnight from a skinny, flat-chested kid into a fully loaded woman—how amazing it had felt to suddenly be noticed after years of being either ignored or treated like dirt. It had given her a sense of power she’d never before had, one that she could use to her advantage with the opposite sex. And, like a teenager learning to drive, she had sometimes driven too fast.

  Getting dressed this morning, she’d been conscious of the image she wanted to make. Bella’s caseworker would be monitoring today’s visit, as usual, and it was more important than ever that she not get any black marks on her report. So instead of reaching automatically for the clothes she felt most comfortable in, ones that made a bold statement in a world where she’d otherwise be fine print, she’d selected her outfit carefully, choosing a pair of midrise moleskin jeans and long-sleeved jersey top, suede ankle boots instead of her favorite kick-ass cowboy boots. The only jewelry she had on were the studs in her ears and the necklace Jeremiah had given her, which she never took off. Looking in the mirror, she’d hardly recognized herself. In her conservative (for her) attire, with the pink streaks in her hair fading and a touch of lipstick and mascara her only makeup, she’d felt as panicky as if she were standing on a high perch looking down. Who are you? she’d thought.

  Now she looked over at Ollie and thought, I’m still me. With Ollie, at least. He was the one person besides Miss Honi who saw the real Kerrie Ann underneath it all. “I suppose I should be happy my sister didn’t think I was the one who stole those books,” she said.

  Ollie flicked her a surprised look. “Why would she think that?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because I’ve been accused of worse.”

  “What’s the worst thing you’ve ever been accused of?” He looked intrigued.

  “You know how most kids, if they get kicked out of school, it’s for cheating on a test or copying somebody else’s paper? Well, with me it was for screwing a boy in the janitor’s closet during lunch break.” She paused to gauge his reaction, but his expression didn’t change—maybe he wasn’t so innocent after all. “We would’ve gotten away with it except the janitor opened the closet just as the principal happened to be walking by. Talk about busted.”

  She’d expected Ollie to be scandalized, but he only laughed. “That’s nothing,” he said. “My junior year, me and my buddies got caught breaking into a house.”

  “Seriously?” Kerrie Ann couldn’t imagine Ollie involved in anything criminal.

  “It was actually a cabin out in the woods near Bonny Doon. It looked like nobody had used it in a while because it was all boarded up. Anyway, we thought it’d be the perfect place to party. Except the party turned out to be us and a cou
ple of scary dudes with guns. Turned out the reason the cabin was boarded up was because they were using it as a meth lab. Which was lucky in a way because it wasn’t like they were gonna call the cops on us.”

  “You didn’t call the cops on them?”

  “We didn’t have to. Somebody else ratted them out before we could.”

  “Wow.” She eyed him in amazement. “Who would have guessed you had such a dark past?”

  “Why, because I don’t seem the type?”

  “Actually, no.”

  “Just how do you see me?” Ollie gave her a peculiar look as he braked to a stop at a red light. Just ahead was a white pickup pulling a horse trailer. She could see the horse’s rear end through the slatted tailgate, its tail switching back and forth in a lazy, contented rhythm.

  “I think you’re sweet,” she said.

  “‘Sweet,’” he echoed in disgust, “is about the worst thing you can say to a guy. Right up there with ‘I see you more as a friend’ and ‘It’s not you, it’s me.’”

  She laughed. “Trust me, it’s a compliment.” She couldn’t say any more than that without leading him on.

  Would that be such a bad thing?

  Kerrie Ann pushed the thought from her mind. She closed her eyes and thought of Bella instead. Would her daughter be excited to see her? She’d been shy the last time they’d spoken over the phone, but when Kerrie Ann remembered how happy her daughter was whenever she came to visit and how Bella clung to her when it was time to go, she felt a little less anxious. She couldn’t wait to tell her daughter the good news about her new house and job and the fact that she now had an aunt and a—Kerrie Ann wasn’t quite sure how to bill Miss Honi, but she’d think of something when the time came—which meant that when Bella finally came home, it would be to a real home.

  Kerrie Ann kept her eyes closed, savoring the rare moment of calm. She let her mind drift, aware only of the warmth of the sunshine rippling over her, the now familiar rumbling of the Willys’s engine, and the scent of new-mown grass drifting through the open window as they passed from King City’s commercial district into the farmlands beyond. The rude, clamoring thoughts that normally kept her from enjoying such peaceful moments were far away.

  She must have fallen asleep because when she opened her eyes again, Ollie was pulling into a parking space in front of the familiar stucco building, home of the group dental practice of George Barthold, DDS, where her visits with her daughter took place every other Sunday under the watchful eye of Mrs. Silvestre. “See you in a couple of hours,” said Ollie as she climbed out.

  She paused to look back at him, realizing that she hadn’t taken into consideration until now that he’d be cooling his heels for the better part of the afternoon with nothing to keep him occupied. “Will you be okay on your own?” she asked. “There’s a Cineplex in the mall over on Highland Avenue—maybe you can catch a movie. Or, I don’t know, check out the shops.”

  “I’m cool,” he said. “I’ll just wait right here. That way, if you need me, you’ll know where to find me.”

  Kerrie Ann was touched. When was the last time a guy had looked out for her? Not since the early days with Jeremiah. She quickly turned away so Ollie wouldn’t see the gratitude on her face. “Nah, you go on,” she said. “I’ll be fine. You’d only get bored hanging around here.”

  “Got it covered.” He brandished the iPod he’d fished from a pocket of his cargo pants. “I also brought plenty of reading material.” With a flourish, he pulled a stash of magazines from under his seat—copies of Food and Wine, Bon Appetit, Cook’s Illustrated.

  She laughed and said, “In that case, knock yourself out.”

  Stepping through the front entrance after she was buzzed in, Kerrie Ann was met by a blast of frigid air—the air conditioner was always on at the group practice of George Barthold, DDS, as if he and the other dentists saw it as a way to numb patients before they got their anesthetic. Kerrie Ann thought she could use an anesthetic right now. She was sweating despite the cold, and her pulse beat in time to the clacking of her boot heels against the tiled floor as she made her way past the empty treatment rooms toward the day care center, thoughtfully provided for the patients and employees of the dental practice.

  Through an open door at the end of the corridor drifted the sound of voices—a woman’s and a child’s. Mrs. Silvestre and Bella had gotten here ahead of her, as usual. She felt a swelling of excitement. She hadn’t seen her little girl in several weeks—she’d had to reschedule the prior Sunday’s visit due to a lack of transportation—and missed her so much that it was an actual physical ache. Smiling, she stepped through the door.

  Bella sat at one of the low tables, drawing on a large sheet of paper with colored Magic Markers, while Mrs. Silvestre stood over her, admiring her artwork. They both looked up at Kerrie Ann, Mrs. Silvestre with a welcoming smile and Bella with a look of delight that quickly gave way to one of shyness.

  Kerrie Ann fought the impulse to fly over and gather Bella into her arms. She knew that coming on too strong could cause Bella to retreat or even bring on tears. Their relationship had become so fragile that each word, each gesture had to be carefully measured. It wasn’t just that Bella had a new life with the Bartholds; her trust in Kerrie Ann had been shaken. The mommy who was supposed to care for her had let her down. Kerrie Ann had explained, as best she could, that she’d been “sick” and that it wouldn’t happen again, and while Bella seemed to accept that, she wanted to know why they couldn’t be together now that her mommy was “all better.” She was too young to understand why Mommy couldn’t make that happen, so somehow that was Kerrie Ann’s fault, too. The thought was like a splinter lodged in her heart as she made her way across the room.

  She squatted down so she was at eye level with her daughter, struck anew by the miracle she and Jeremiah had created in this child. With each passing year, Bella grew to look more and more like her father. She had his toffee-colored skin and wavy black hair, his lean shape and long, graceful fingers that had turned liquid when he’d played his guitar. Her blue eyes and the shape of her mouth were the only features she’d inherited from Kerrie Ann.

  “Hey, baby. What you got there?”

  Shyly Bella held up the drawing for her to see. It was a picture of what looked to be a large fish tank, containing various aquatic creatures, including an octopus. “It’s an aquarium,” she said. “That’s where all the fishes live. And whales and dolphins that do tricks.”

  “The Bartholds took her to Sea World,” explained Mrs. Silvestre. She extended her small, plump hand to Kerrie Ann. Her brown eyes, beneath the wispy bangs that came down over her eyebrows, seemed to take in every detail of Kerrie Ann’s appearance in the time it took for them to shake hands. Kerrie Ann must have passed muster because the caseworker’s smile was a bit warmer than usual. “Apparently the whale act was a big hit.”

  Kerrie Ann felt another knife-twist in her gut. She should have been the one taking Bella to Sea World! But she bit back a caustic response and only said, “Sounds like fun.”

  “Well, I’ll leave you to it. Just give a shout if you need me,” said Mrs. Silvestre before heading over to the adult-sized table in the corner where her laptop sat like a square, glowing eye.

  Kerrie Ann quickly became so wrapped up in her daughter that she forgot about anything and everyone else. They drew pictures together and, when Bella tired of that, constructed a castle out of Legos. A Barbie doll filled in as princess of the castle, Bella declaring, “She got locked up by a mean witch, and now the prince has to rescue her.”

  “Where’s the prince? I don’t see him,” said Kerrie Ann, making a show of searching for him.

  “You’re not s’posed to, Mommy. He’s invisible.” Bella looked up at her with all the sage wisdom of a six-year-old. In her flowered turtleneck and denim jumper, with her curly hair in neat braids, she looked like the girls in school whom Kerrie Ann used to envy.

  “Why is he invisible?”

  “’Cause.
The witch put a spell on him.”

  “Why’d she do that?”

  “So the princess wouldn’t see him.”

  “If she doesn’t know he’s there, how is he supposed to rescue her?”

  Bella giggled. “Mommy. Don’t you know anything?”

  Kerrie Ann smiled. “Guess I’m not as smart as you.”

  “He gots to kiss her first.”

  Bella went back to playing make-believe with the princess and invisible prince. Eventually she grew tired of that, too, and they sat and talked about other things: what she’d learned in school and the extracurricular activities she was enrolled in, like the dance class for which Carol Barthold had bought her a pink leotard and matching tights. As much as it pained Kerrie Ann to admit it, Bella was flourishing in the Bartholds’ care. Would the judge see that, too, and decide in their favor? If it were only a matter of who was best equipped to raise Bella, it would be no contest: The Bartholds were the clear winners.

  Kerrie Ann felt a pang, wondering if she would be there to buy Bella her first bra … or see her off to the prom … or dry her tears when she got her heart broken by some insensitive clod of a boy.

  “Hey, I almost forgot, I brought you something,” she said as they were settling into the beanbag chair with Bella’s favorite book—Eloise at the Plaza. Kerrie Ann dug into her pocket and pulled out a small, brightly wrapped packet. “I picked it out just for you.”

  A look of shy pleasure spread over Bella’s face. “What is it?”

  “Open it and you’ll see.”

  It was a small gilded sand dollar on a silver chain. Kerrie Ann had spied it in a souvenir shop down the street from the book café and thought it would be perfect. Her guess proved correct—Bella was delighted with it. “Is it a real shell?” she asked in an awed voice.

  “Sure is. In fact, I’ll bet it came right off the beach by my new house.”