by Annie Jones
“And she would be bright and beautiful and radiant, and…and perfect in every way.” Hannah crossed her legs at the ankle and managed not to get so much as a smudge of road dirt on her sleek sandals. “We sure made her larger than life in those talks, didn’t we?”
“We made her who we needed her to be.” April laced her arms tightly around herself.
“No, not you, April. You never went in for grandiose fantasies about how our mom could do or say or be anything we dreamed up.”
“I just don’t remember her that way,” April whispered.
“At least you can remember her.”
“Not much.”
“But some. You have something. We don’t have anything…” Hannah gestured to include Sadie in her complaint. “Not even a crust of a memory from you, since you refuse to tell us about her.”
“I’ve explained that to you. It was all so long ago, I can’t in good conscience promise the authenticity of my recollections.”
Sadie touched her older sister’s arm. “We’re not asking for promises or guarantees, April, we just want—”
“Anything,” Hannah begged. “How she smelled. Did she sing? Did she kneel beside the bed at night with you and listen to your prayers?”
“I remember…”
“What?” Sadie and Hannah asked at the same time.
“I think I remember when Moonie and Mama got married.”
“No!”
“Really?
“You never told us that,” Sadie murmured in awe.
“It’s such a fleeting image—the church, the flowers, eating cake while sitting on Moonie’s lap, and Mama worried that I’d make a mess and him saying, ‘That’s all right, Teresa. Kids are supposed to make messes. It’s part of life—the best part.’”
Sadie leaned her chin in her hand. “You remember that?”
“Well see, that’s why I never mention it. It does seem like a lot for a four year old to recall. But I do. I think it got fixed in my mind because I remember thinking at the time what a lucky little girl I was to have a new daddy who thought the messes were the best part of life.”
“He still thinks that.” Hannah curled the bag of stomach medicine close to her chest.
“Bet you don’t think you’re so lucky now, huh?” Sadie laughed a little.
“Actually…yes, I do.”
Hannah rolled just her head to the side and asked, “Really?”
“Y’all, I…I don’t know if I should say any more.”
“Yes, you should.” Sadie’s pulse picked up at the promise of knowing something—anything—more about the mother she had never really known.
“Do. Please, do,” Hannah pleaded.
“Most of my memories of Mom are not…happy.”
“Happy?” The paper bag in Hannah’s grasp crinkled. “You mean, like birthdays and Christmas happy?”
“I mean…” Even in the darkness April’s eyes betrayed her inner conflict. For a moment it seemed she might close up again and not say any more. Then, slowly, she sat up and looked at her own hands and went on. “The few memories I have of Mom always make me feel so very, very sad—even the birthday and Christmas ones.”
“Because she’s gone?” Hannah’s tone begged for that to be the reason.
“Because she was never there.”
They all sat silent for a moment, trying to absorb the whole significance of April’s simple reply.
Somehow, Sadie knew instinctively what she meant, and it chilled her to the bone.
“Oh, physically, her body was present.” April kept her gaze cast down. She fidgeted with the end of her braid. “You’ve seen the photos, you both know that. But inside she just wasn’t available to the people who loved her.”
Sadie shivered. She knew that feeling all too well. Finally she found the courage to ask, “Wasn’t she ever happy? Didn’t she ever…get better?”
“Not that I recall.”
Sadie’s breath stopped short in her chest. This was their mother they were talking about, not her. April was telling them about the past, not giving a warning about Sadie’s certain future.
“My very last memories of her…and, again, I may be mixing all this up with the last stages of pregnancy and her being tired or what have you. But my last memories of her were of her never getting out of bed. Never wanting to see us.” April sniffled, which was for her like a great outpouring sob from someone else. She paused, gathered herself, and then in a voice so raw it hurt just to hear it, whispered, “If she’d have just let us in. I’d have…”
“Done anything. If only she had trusted how much people loved her,” Sadie paraphrased what Moonie had said that day in the cemetery. “If only she hadn’t withdrawn. If only she hadn’t let it eat away at her. If only she had asked for help…”
“Sadie?” April sat up, closer now. “Did Daddy say all that about Mama?”
“Hmm?” Sadie blinked and suddenly realized she’d been all but making a confession about her own actions. She shook her head. “No. I was just…I wonder if Mama ever saw a doctor for her condition?”
“Doctor?” April asked.
Hannah cocked her head. “Condition?”
“Well, obviously, that’s not normal. Something was wrong with Mama. That’s probably why she ran off. And maybe it’s why she couldn’t try to find us.”
“You could be right.” Hannah lay back on the hood again.
“Of course she’s right.” April lay back, too. “The question is, what does Daddy think he’s going to do about it now? Why, after all these years, did Daddy decide to try?”
“Maybe the stroke scared him into the realization that he no longer had all the time in the world.” Hannah took a deep breath.
“No.” Sadie finally lay back on the hood with her sisters even though the fireworks had dwindled to mostly sound and low flashes beyond the trees. “This started before the stroke.”
“It started the day of his accident at the bank. You talked to him that day, Sadie. Any insights? Anything stand out in your mind?”
“Just the usual. Had to go down to the VFW and pry him out of an altercation with Deborah over his wanting to march in the parade.”
“Too bad he missed our show today.” Hannah laughed lightly. “He would have loved it.”
“He lectured me on pursuing joy and authentic individualism,” Sadie went on.
“Heard it,” April croaked like a bullfrog.
“And I told him about the three of us having words—or, not having words. We weren’t on speaking terms at the time.”
“Oh, no.” April put both hands over her face. “You don’t think…?”
Sadie pulled at her sister’s arm. “What?”
April dropped her hands, pounding them in quick, gentle thuds against the metal of the hood. “Could all of this just be a Shelnutt-inspired ruse to get the three of us talking again?”
Hannah sat bolt upright. Her hands twisted the paper bag around the neck of the medicine bottle inside it. “It better not be!”
“Why?” April asked.
“Mostly because I want to learn the truth about Mom. But also because, if the ruse worked…”
Another firework scaled high, high into the sky above them.
“Oh, no. Oh, no, no, no.” In the burst of light that followed, April’s eyes reflected her sudden understanding of what was at stake.
“Oh, yes.” Hannah nodded knowingly. “Can you imagine? If Daddy discovers this shifty charade has accomplished his goal, what might he try next?”
Sadie chuckled. “Heaven help us.”
“Not a bad idea.” Hannah set the sack aside and lightly brushed her hands together.
“Hmm?”
“Clearly, now we have no concept of what Daddy is planning or what we are walking into in Alphina. We took off in such a flurry, we didn’t even stop to say a prayer for our journey.” Hannah held her hand out first to one sister, then to the other. “I think it’s about time we did that.”
“I sai
d a prayer,” April protested even as she accepted Hannah’s outstretched hand.
“I did, too, but we didn’t. Not all of us, together.” Another firework went off, and Hannah followed its upward spiral for a second before she lowered her gaze to the hand that remained empty. ”Sadie?”
Bang! Boom! Ka-powie! The sky filled with light.
Sadie’s entire being filled with…apprehension. She still prayed, of course. She still believed. But…
If only she hadn’t withdrawn. If only she had asked for help. The questions she had asked about her mother but that came from the depths of her own pain echoed in her mind now.
Moonie had said he’d have done anything for Mama. Their mother never gave him the chance to prove it.
God had promised He would uphold Sadie in all things and He had not waited for her to admit she needed help, but sent His Son to demonstrate just how far He would go to prove His love.
Hadn’t she waited long enough to share her heart with Him again?
“Okay,” she said quietly but not without reservation. It had been so long and so much remained unsaid, unresolved. “Count me in. But someone else has to be the voice.”
“We’ll do that for you, Sadie.” Hannah extended her hand farther.
Sadie slipped her hand into her younger sister’s grasp, and then into her older sister’s. They bowed their heads, and with the fireworks exploding overhead, quietly joined together to pray for their journey, their father and for each other.
And when the roadside-assistance man showed up at last to haul them from the ditch with a “Sorry for the wait, ladies,” Sadie smiled and said, “That’s okay. Waiting isn’t always a bad thing.”
He strode all the way around the car, smacked his chewing gum, then scratched the back of his neck and looked up at them. “Glad to hear you feel that way, ma’am, because this here looks like it could take a while.”
Chapter Sixteen
Sadie let up on the gas pedal as the car went skimming past the Welcome to Alphina sign.
“Finally,” she muttered under her breath, careful not to wake either of her sisters, who had both zonked out shortly after they’d hit the highway again.
Some lone late reveler must not have felt the same respect for the weary, however. As the car cruised from the darkness through the illuminated circles created by the streetlights, three quick, earsplitting firecrackers erupted nearby.
“What was that?” April jerked into a dazed consciousness.
Hannah groaned and put her hand to her forehead. “Isn’t this holiday ever going to end?”
“It already has.” Sadie tilted her head toward the Citizens Savings and Loan, where the time and temperature flashed electric red. “Twelve fifty-seven. It’s officially July the fifth.”
April groaned, stretched, then let out a long, loud yawn. “And too late to do any real detective work.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t say that.” Sadie wasn’t sleepy. The whole night had recharged her in ways that she hadn’t counted on. During the drive, her mind had not stopped whirring away. Maybe what had been awry with her these last months had not been some failing on her part. Maybe the seeds of her inability to rise above her sadness lay in her family history.
And she had finally come to the place where she could get some answers.
“What do you suggest we do?” April pulled the band from the end of her frazzled braid and started to undo her hair as if already preparing for bed.
“I know my vote.” Hannah rested her cheek on the back of the seat. “We check in to a hotel, get a good night’s sleep, then in the morning use the phone there to call all the other hotels and see if we can find where Daddy is registered.”
“Or…” Sadie stopped at a red light and leaned forward over the steering wheel, peering at a parking lot two blocks away.
“No ‘or,’ please, Sadie. Last time you gave us an ‘or’ option, we ended up as the star attraction in a fool’s parade.” Hannah curled her hands under her chin and fought to keep her eyes open. “I’m exhausted, tired right to the marrow of my bones. I need to rest.”
“You’re not supposed to be tired,” Sadie argued, her energy unabated. “You’re the young one here.”
“Well none of us is as young as we used to be.” April wriggled her fingers through the heavy strands of her hair. The tightly crimped waves clung to her knuckles as she raised her hands and began massaging her scalp. “So I suspect we all could do with a good rest before we tackle what might be the biggest confrontation of our entire lives.”
“Or…” The light turned green and Sadie took off.
“Or what?” Hannah snapped without opening even one eye.
“Or we could cruise around town a bit and see if we can find Daddy,” Sadie said softly.
“Cruise around? Are you crazy?” April disentangled her fingers from her hair with a few crisp shakes. “Three weary women meandering through a strange town looking for one cagey old man?”
“How hard could it be?” A car slowed to turn in front of Sadie, and she eased her foot onto the brake. “He’ll stick out in that big white van with Royal Academy and a beauty-pageant tiara painted in red on the side.”
“He sticks out plenty enough in this boat of a car around itty-bitty little Wileyville, and half the time we can’t find him there.” Hannah frowned, her eyes shut even tighter.
“Look, I saw the population as we drove in.” Sadie tapped her foot on the gas and sent the car gliding down toward the next turn, which she made with ease. “Twenty-four thousand, a little more than twice the size of Wileyville. It’s doable, I tell you.”
“No, it’s not.”
“April’s right, we could never, even in our wildest—”
“Here we are.” Sadie pulled the convertible to a stop in the empty parking space directly across from a big white van with Kentucky license plates and Mary Tate’s logo, big-as-you-please, shining in the overhead light. “Now what?”
April hopped out and went to peek inside the van. “Maybe we should just camp out right here. You know, sleep in the car so Daddy can’t slip out without us knowing.”
“Sleep in the car?” A lock of hair fell over Hannah’s eyes. A tremble started in her lower lip that warned she might just burst out crying if they chose that alternative.
“I say we get a room and deal with Daddy in the morning. We could all use a good night’s sleep,” Sadie insisted.
“Sleep,” Hannah echoed.
“But what about the car?” April argued. “There’s no place in this lot we can park it that Daddy won’t spot it the second he comes out of his room.”
“Hmm.” Sadie glanced around to confirm April’s assessment. “Okay, simple fix. We all know Daddy is a creature of habit, right?”
“I motion to amend that to a creature of mostly bad habits.” April grinned. “And I’m sure Hannah will second that, right, Hannah?”
“Sleep.”
Sadie laughed. “So it’s easy. Daddy gets up at the same time every morning.”
“Six-seventeen,” Hannah and April said together.
“Exactly. Six-seventeen. So we just arrange a wake-up call for 6:00 a.m., get up in plenty of time to throw on some clothes, dash out here and nab Daddy before he can get gone for the day.”
“Works for me. How about you, Hannah?”
“Sleep.”
“Is that a yes?”
“Sleep.”
“I think that’s definitely a yes,” Sadie said as she took the key from the ignition and opened the car door. “Let’s go crash for a few hours, so we can be ready for whatever Daddy throws at us in the morning.”
“We can be ready for anything Daddy throws at us in the morning?” April stood in the open doorway of their tiny room six hours later, staring at the note slipped under their door. “But what about the things even Daddy doesn’t control?”
Sadie sat on the edge of the bed staring at the numbers on the bedside clock. “I had no idea we’d crossed over into the Centra
l Time zone.”
“Well Daddy did. Or rather, according to his note—” April lifted the page of motel stationery and read aloud “—These old bones rise like them in Bible days—when the good Lord tells them to. With the time change, guess that means I got up a full hour ahead of the normal time on the clock. I was a bit grumpy about the whole mess until I came out to find my car, and the clerk told me three beautiful women had driven it here. Imagine my delight!’”
“Delight.” Sadie shook her head. “You have to hand it to him, he never lets up. You or me, we’d hardly have used that word to describe what we felt in the same situation.”
April looked out at the parking lot. “We did sort of set him up for an ambush, didn’t we?”
Hannah picked through her open overnight bag like a jeweler selecting the perfect tool to perform precision diamond cutting. Finally she withdrew a small bottle of moisturizer and a prepackaged facial cloth, then picked up a towel and bent forward to wrap it around her head. “Not intentionally. We had his best interests at heart.”
“Well according to the note he left when he headed out of here, he always had our best interests at heart raising us, too.” Sadie had empathy by the armload for the old fellow, but that didn’t mean she had suddenly been struck with amnesia. “But I have to tell you, being on the receiving end of those best interests, it didn’t always feel deelightful.”
Hannah dropped onto the bed. In her slightly oversize robe, towel turban and pale, crestfallen expression, she looked a bit like a pile of damp laundry. “He could have at least left us the keys for the van.”
“‘Sorry, girls, can’t leave the keys for the van.’” The paper rustled in April’s hands as she held it up high to read it in the poor light of the predawn day. “‘Royal loaned that van to me.’”
“Royal?” Sadie frowned. “That man! Sometimes I could just—”
“Wait!” April held one finger up. “‘To get him off the hook right now, he told me where the keys were, and said I could use it in a pinch.’”
