by Annie Jones
“Like I didn’t already feel queasy enough.” Hannah rubbed her eyes, then rested her forehead in her hands. “Go ahead, read on.”
“‘So I pinched them keys…’”
Sadie groaned at the awful pun.
“‘…and set off with a mind to take the best of care of the vehicle. Since none of you three have permission, to my knowledge, to access this van, I don’t see how I could leave the keys for you. Not to worry, though.’”
“You’d think he’d know by now that the time we worry the most is when he tells us not to worry.” Sadie stood and crossed the room to finish reading the note over her sister’s shoulder.
“‘I have some business in town that doesn’t involve you three.’”
“Ha!” Sadie couldn’t help throwing her two cents’ in.
“‘But it won’t take too long. I hope.’”
“He strands us here and hopes it won’t take too long?”
“What constitutes ‘too long’ in Daddy’s world, anyway?” Hannah rose from the bed slowly, her knuckles white from clutching the bottle in her hand.
“That’s a good question. One would think to set a benchmark like that would require a person to have a clue as to what most of us consider too much to endure, too far to go or too long to wait.” Sadie inched in closer behind her sister, then went up on tiptoe to get a better look at the rest of the note.
April twisted her upper body around to keep Sadie from reading ahead and went on, “‘When I’m done, I’ll hurry right on back, and the three of us can talk.’”
Her sister’s movements did not deter Sadie. She had set out on this odd little adventure because she had determined the time had come to take action. And action she would take, right down to peeping around her sister’s back to finish off the last of their daddy’s instructions. “‘Until then, the main part of town is due east a couple blocks, and though this strip of road has grown up a lot since we last lived here, I can eyeball plenty of places within walking distance that look to serve a decent meal. It’s on me. See you soon.’”
April dug into the envelope with the motel logo on it and withdrew two twenty-dollar bills. “Just like when we were kids, remember? When he used to bribe us with cash not to tell Aunt Phiz anything potentially incriminating or embarrassing during her visits?”
“I have to confess.” Sadie ruffled her fingers through her unruly morning hair. “I always told.”
April gave a flippant wave. “Oh, me, too.”
“Not me!” Hannah fluffed the lapels of her pink robe.
In a flash April’s wave turned into an invisible fan, which she flapped under her chin, her eyes batting like a delicate southern belle. “Well aren’t you the Miss Goody Two-shoes?”
“More like Goody Toe-shoes.” Hannah grinned and wrinkled her nose. “Up until about age seven, I made up songs about Daddy’s exploits and sang them for Aunt Phiz while I spun around the den pretending to be a ballerina.”
April slapped Sadie’s arm with her faux fan. “You’re kidding.”
“Uh-uh.” Hannah’s wan face lit up—well, as much as a face can on only a few hours’ sleep. “And when I got a little older, I used to make up mock newspapers with articles on all the family doings—Daddy had his own section—and send them to her wherever she was teaching that year and even to her archaeological digs.”
“Why, you darling little snitch!” Sadie laughed.
April put her arm around Sadie’s shoulder as she told Hannah, “No wonder you’re still her favorite!”
Sadie looked to her older sister, and before she could think of a reason not to, rested her head on April’s shoulder and sighed. “Well clearly bribery didn’t work on us as children. Whatever made Daddy think he could use it now?”
April pressed her cheek to the top of Sadie’s head. “Maybe because now we’re stranded in a cheap motel in Alphina, Tennessee.”
“Stranded and starving.” Sadie straightened up.
April slipped inside the open door and let it fall shut at last.
There was something final in that action. Something that said that this path—the one they had chosen when they agreed to come on this trip together—was now closed. “Okay, now what?”
Hannah looked to Sadie.
April did the same.
“Why are you two turning to me? Last time I made a decision, we ended up in a ditch.”
“Yeah, but the time before that, we got to ride in a parade.” Hannah moved to the sink.
April, already dressed for the day, sat in the wobbly chair by the lone window in the room. “And before that, it was your ruling that set us off on this whole adventure, which, despite its obvious flaws, I count as a positive experience.”
Water gushed into the basin. Hannah went through her cleansing routine quickly, then bent down and splashed two handfuls of clear water onto her face. Between pats with the towel to daintily dry her cheeks and chin, she concluded, “So with that kind of record, I’d say the chances are pretty good that you’ll pick a winning option, Sadie.”
They looked at her, and though neither one said another word, Sadie could feel their expectations closing in around her.
What are you waiting for, Sadie? They said it with their eyes and the way they each leaned forward just a little as they watched her intently.
At first their stress over Daddy had got them not speaking to each other. Then it got them speaking, if only a little, about their mother. And now this. Hannah and April wanted her to speak for the three of them. Together. As sisters.
It was a monumental moment in their relationship. Sadie didn’t dare blow it.
“Okay, well…” She took a deep breath of the motel’s stale air. “We came here out of concern for Daddy, right?”
The others nodded their agreement.
“So since we can’t go looking for Daddy now, maybe we should think about looking for what he came after?” What did that mean, exactly? Even Sadie didn’t know.
“Yes. I get it.”
“You do?” Sadie asked her older sister, unable to hide her relief.
“Sure.” April turned to Hannah. “Sadie is saying we should try looking for information on Mama.”
“Mama?” Hannah looked down a moment, then raised her hand to cover her mouth.
She’d honestly been thinking more of plying April for memories of the town, of places that Daddy might want to visit while here. An old church. His former place of business. But this idea—to actually look for clues about their mother….
“Why not?” Sadie’s pulse thudded hard in her ears to say aloud the question that Daddy had asked, the question that had helped launch a series of choices that had brought her to this very moment. “We are in Alphina. We have a phone and a phone book.”
April shifted in her chair to open the desk drawer. The seat squeaked. The drawer squawked. The phone book, though thin, hit the bed with a satisfying thwack when April tossed it to Sadie, suggesting, “We could start by calling city hall.”
Sadie laid her hand on the tattered cover with its photo of a local landmark. “And ask for what?”
“Records…um, marriage licenses?”
Hannah sank to her knees and placed her hand on the closed book next to Sadie’s, her eyes fixed on the oldest sister of the three. “And even if they could tell us something, how would that help us find her?”
April had no answer.
But Sadie did. “We won’t find the kinds of things we want through official channels.”
“No?” Hannah cocked her head. Hannah liked official channels. They were organized and easy to access without having to rely overmuch on others’ help to do so. If Sadie had let her, she’d have gladly spent the day flitting from office to office to library files and back again, gathering information, networking and generally making herself the scourge of Alphina paper handlers everywhere.
“The newspaper!” Hannah clapped her hands together. “Or maybe an old established doctor’s office?”
“C
hamber of commerce,” April added her best guess.
“Nope. Nope. And no. Unless our mother made herself newsworthy or owned a business, the paper and any civic organizations would be out. A doctor might know something, but how would we find the right one, and if we did, would he or she divulge privileged patient information?”
“Not likely.” Hannah rested her chin on the bed and tucked her robe in around her feet.
“No, ladies, we need to seek out the collective knowledge of the resident population, the whole body of data accumulated through intense survey and interaction with various locally based denizens, the shared wisdom of the generations.”
A slow smile worked over April’s lips. “Town gossip?”
Sadie touched the tip of her nose to let her sister know she’d gotten the right answer. “Yup. We need to find Alphina’s answer to Lollie Muldoon.”
“Well there is a little café across the street. It’s just the kind of place locals might gather.” April stood and held her hand out to help Hannah up, as well. “If there isn’t a good gossip connection there, they could probably point us in the right direction.”
“Good thinking.” Sadie leaped up, suddenly energized again. “In fact, we could take Daddy up on his offer to feed us, and do both at once.”
Hannah rubbed her temple with one hand and clasped her robe closed high at the throat with the other. “Ugh—how can you two think of eating at a time like this?”
“A time like what? Breakfast?” April’s braid swung with a spring in her step as she took Hannah’s shoulders and gave her a shove to prod her to get ready. “I always think of eating then.”
“I always think of eating—period.” Sadie pulled at the hem of her shapeless jersey tunic. “Right now I’m thinking pancakes!”
“Pancakes?” Hannah shuddered. “How could you eat something that sweet and sticky and heavy and…” She covered her mouth.
“Hannah, are you all right?” April was at her sister’s side in a heartbeat.
“I told you, I’m nervous.” She pushed April away, snatched up the outfit she’d laid out and headed into the bathroom, calling through the closing door, “This whole experience is taking its toll.”
April leaned against the bathroom door. “I know you’re not the type to admit you might have a human failing or two, but maybe you’re actually sick.”
“Or maybe…” Sadie jumped up and ran to the door, knocking gently before she said, “Hannah, honey, maybe we should take this money Dad left and head to the nearest drugstore to buy a test.”
April’s face lit up. “Oh, Hannah, you don’t think you could be…?”
Silence answered them for a few seconds, then the door slowly opened and their sister emerged, fully dressed.
“Give me that.” Hannah grabbed the money from Sadie’s hand. “If Downtown Drug is any example, the local drugstore will be just as good a place as any to get some prime gossip—and that test.”
Chapter Seventeen
“You praying about Hannah’s test or sitting there willing the phone to ring?”
“Can’t I do both?” Sadie took her eyes off the tan motel phone long enough to smile at her older sister. “That pharmacist said he’d check around, and if he got in touch with the woman he thought might remember Mama and Daddy living here, he’d get right back to us.”
The raised green letters of the chain pharmacy’s business logo looked stark against the white of the crisp card in April’s palm. She flipped it over to the handwritten name on the back. “What a blessing to find someone who had run a drugstore for so many years and sold to a national chain.”
“Actually it happens all the time now. The private shops just can’t keep pace. This fellow was completely in awe of how long Ed had held out already.” Sadie sighed.
“Do you think Ed will call him to talk about the pros and cons of selling the store?”
“Who knows? I told this guy that Ed had recently taken up golf, and he assured me that was the first step toward dumping the drugstore but…” Sadie wondered what Ed was up to right now. Was he hard at work, maybe pausing now and then to think of or say a prayer for her and her sisters? Or was he on the golf course? Or maybe getting a facial or manicure or total makeover courtesy of Carmen Gomez? “You may find us terribly predictable, April, but I no longer have any idea what Ed will do next.”
April set the card aside.
“Can you two turn the TV on out there, I can’t…it’s too quiet. It’s making me self-conscious.”
April obliged with the flick of a button.
“Better change the channel.” Sadie pointed to the talk-show host announcing the day’s lineup of guests. “If you think we make her nervous, imagine what that crew would do for her.”
After a few more clicks, April settled on an old black-and-white sitcom. “Okay, the TV is on. We are not listening. We won’t hear if you are taking the test or talking to Payt about the results. All better, Hannah?”
“Thanks. I won’t take long, I promise.”
April rubbed her hands together gleefully and tiptoed over to sit on the brown-and-gold bedspread next to Sadie. “Just think—in a few minutes we’ll know if we’re going to be aunts!”
Sadie leaned back to check under the nightstand, making sure the phone was plugged in properly. “You’re already an aunt.”
The laugh track from the old TV show roared.
“Oh, yeah, sure.” April fingered the collar of her staff shirt from her annual work as a church camp counselor. “And I love Olivia and Ryan. I love all kids.”
“You’re good with them. You’re a born nurturer.” Sadie cocked her head and wrinkled her nose. “Is that a word? Nurturer? Born to nurture? Either way, you do good with growing things, plants, puppies, children.”
“Thanks.” April flicked her braid back, her gaze cast in the general direction of the TV, though she clearly wasn’t paying the show any attention.
Sadie wondered if the compliment had been unkind. Was it wrong to remind her sister that she excelled at loving and caring when her life offered fewer and fewer opportunities for her to do so? Sadie thought of just letting it go, the way they always did when things touched on the uncomfortable. But the trip, the circumstances, the talk they’d had last night, had all worked to open something up in her, and she didn’t want to just leave things alone anymore, not if there was a chance that she had said or done something that had tapped an aching nerve in April.
“But you’re right.” This was not easy for Sadie, either, this topic, so she broached it gingerly. She chose her words with care, kept her tone light and reminded herself that this was her gift to her sister, and that she, Sadie, controlled the circumstances. “Being an aunt to a teenager just doesn’t have the fringe benefits of being an aunt to a brand-new baby.”
“So true.” April twisted her neck to speak to Sadie over her shoulder, her expression cautious but her eyes shining with excitement. “There’s just something about a new baby…”
“You don’t have to tell me.” Sadie put her hand up. “And before you ask the inevitable, I am fine with it.”
“Hannah is going to be a mom, you know.” The mattress dipped and creaked as April situated herself cross-legged in the center of the bed. “Whether you’re fine with it or not.”
“Ouch,” Sadie whispered, more for the hardness of her sister’s tone than her actual words.
“I’m sorry if it hurts you to hear it, Sadie, but if we don’t take anything else away from this trip together, I hope we can at least do this—I hope we can finally stop walking on eggshells around each other.”
Sadie opened her mouth to argue that she never did any such thing, but her heart wouldn’t let her mouth form the feeble protest. She took her sister’s hand. “I think that’s a very good goal, April. I’ve thought for a while now that we—you, me, Hannah—we’re bound as much by what we’re afraid to say as we are by those few things we do manage to talk about.”
“Let’s face it, Sadie, if w
e get everything about Mama out in the open finally…”
“It will either bring us together finally and forever as sisters…”
“Or tear us irreparably apart.” April slipped her hand from Sadie’s, her eyes somber. “That’s why I feel I had to say what I said. After today I don’t know if I’ll have the chance again. So I am telling you, the way you’ve been since you lost the baby scares me. It scares me a lot.”
Sadie balled her hands into tight fists. She looked at the phone again, then at the heavily curtained window, then at the mirror over the vanity and sink. She looked anywhere but at her sister as she forced the hoarseness from her voice and said, “It’s not like I had a choice, April. It’s not like I could just decide to snap out of it. Most of the time it was forest and trees—I couldn’t separate the simple everyday problems from the immense, life-changing ones. They were all overwhelming.”
“You have to get help, Sadie.”
“B-but I’m better now.” She whipped her head around. Sadie pushed her hair out of her eyes even as she pleaded with her sister to concede what Sadie wanted more than anything to believe. “Can’t you see how much better I am?”
“Oh, absolutely.” Her sister actually physically backed down. Her shoulders rounded. She folded her hands in her lap and smiled, though none too convincingly, as she said softly, “Sometimes days go by now and I think ‘we have our Sadie back,’ but then…”
April chewed her lower lip and cast her gaze to the quilted bedspread.
“No eggshells, April, remember?”
April searched her sister’s eyes.
Already Sadie regretted having urged her sister to speak freely. But she said nothing more and simply sat there, holding her breath.
“But then I remember it being that way with Mama, Sadie,” April said at last. “Good days and bad. You probably don’t have any memory of it, but that made it hard for us as kids.”
Sadie exhaled slowly; a long, world-weary breath. “I’ve made it hard on my kids. I can see that.”
