Carole shut the door little more firmly than she intended.
As she slid into the driver’s seat, her mother was in full rant.
“You hurt my arm! You slammed that door deliberately and you hurt my arm! You are so thoughtless.”
Carole glanced back at the pies. She should have made cookies. You can slip a couple of cookies off the plate into your mouth and no one’s the wiser. With pies, it was all or nothing.
“You and those pies,” her mother shook her head. “Why don’t you make something people want?”
Carole pulled gingerly away from the curb, reminding herself that her pies were among the first sold last year and the committee specifically asked if she’d bring them again.
The criticism droned on, this time targeting the staff at the retirement village. “The food is awful. The rest of those old people don’t know the difference, but I know. I’m losing weight every day. I’m not like you, where everything I eat turns to fat, I struggle to maintain a healthy weight.”
Carole rolled her eyes heavenward. She’d never known how to handle the relentless attacks. Escape had been the only tool in her toolbox growing up and now that was not an option.
“Why don’t you talk to me? You sit there in silence, you’ve tuned me out. You never pay attention to me, you never listen to me. I see how other people’s daughters take care of them and listen to their problems, they’re interested in them, but you, you don’t even know how to be a good daughter. I wish I had a good daughter.”
“You still have Leah.” There. She couldn’t help herself. Leah had always been held up as the perfect daughter. Even as she said it, she felt like she’d thrown her sister under the bus.
“Oh, let me tell you, that girl only thinks of herself. She is a hypochondriac, you know, she isn’t really sick, she just wants attention. I’m not going to play that game. She stood me up when I needed to go to the grocery store. Some excuse about a doctor’s appointment. I’m the one who’s old. She doesn’t know what pain is. She’ll have to apologize before I’ll give her the time of day.”
Carole nearly swerved off the road. Please, she prayed, her body trembling with outrage. Please God keep my mouth shut.
“Watch out for that car!” Her mother grabbed her arm, her clawing hand surprisingly strong as she dug in. “You’re going to get us killed! Pay attention to the road!”
The sudden overreaction by her mother turned a non-event into a skidding stop. Carole was afraid to look in the backseat. When she did, her worst fears were confirmed and she could feel tears pool in her eyes. Her lovely pies were splattered against the seats and floor.
“My pies,” she said.
Her mother took one look at her face and smiled slyly. “See, I told you. You should have made something else.”
Carole found a parking space close to the entrance and helped her mother out of the car. Cleanup would have to wait.
As they approached the crowd, she felt her mother’s attitude shift. She watched her assemble her public face, the one that she’d perfected over the years.
“Well, hi Marie.” An older woman came over and greeted them. “So glad you could make it. And it’s nice to see you, too, Carole.”
Carole smiled, watching her mother reprise her favorite role, the doting mother and sweet old lady. Before she walked away, the woman who had greeted them said, “You are so fortunate. My mother passed about five years ago, I miss her every day.”
Carole kept the smile on her face and murmured something acceptable.
Her mother’s grasp tightened. “See,” she said when she was sure she wouldn’t be overheard. “Even simpleminded women like her like me. Everyone likes me. That’s how I know there’s something’s wrong with you, because you don’t like me.”
Carole took a deep, slow breath. Please, she prayed. Help me. I really don’t know what to do.
NATALIE
Natalie called the kids one more time.
“Come on right this minute or we’re going to be late.”
The twins burst through the door, laughing and full of high spirits.
Natalie had a twinge of envy, jealous of the carefree abandon of being nine years old and everything in your life is perfect.
“Get in the car,” she said. “Go, go.”
She pulled the door shut behind her. Before she got into the car, she checked her cell phone. Brone hadn’t called. He said he’d call after the interview. She wondered if he even had gone to the interview. Who held interviews on Sundays anyway?
She hadn’t questioned it, not wanting to discourage him. After months of unsuccessful searching, he seemed to have lost hope of ever finding a job.
And if he didn’t? She wondered what failure would do to him. Or to their marriage.
She’d taken the insurance sales position when it was a supplement to their household income. It was fun then, but she never expected to carry the entire burden.
If Brone didn’t get something soon… she couldn’t think about it. It was just too scary.
The parking lot was jam-packed, reminding Natalie just how late she was. Luckily she knew no one would be too upset, since they expected her to be at least 15 minutes late to everything. For a while the twins had been her excuse, because few people could argue with her assertion that it was a nightmare getting a pair of toddlers ready on time, but now that they were nine and doing most of the work themselves, her excuses rang hollow.
She really wanted to get her act together. As soon as she had the time.
Once inside the door, the kids begged for spending money and Natalie carefully counted out the necessary change. She held some back for later, just in case. She didn’t want the kids to feel the pinch, especially if it was short-term.
“Hey, glad you’re here,” Holly greeted her, when she stopped by the baked-goods table to get her assignment. “Carole just arrived, but had a little accident with her pies.”
“Oh, no,” Natalie said. “Are they ruined?”
“Totally. I’m going to help her clean up and her mom needs someone to sit with her for a minute. Could you?”
“Sure,” Natalie said. “The twins are on the games circuit, I won’t see them until they run out of money. I can do it.”
Holly pointed to the tables, where Natalie could see Carole with her mother. The woman looked like a shrunken angel, but Natalie had heard the stories.
She approached carefully, unsure of the response she’d get.
“Marie? I’m Carole’s friend. She has to go to the car to clean up the pie mess, and I thought I’d say hi and visit for a bit.”
The pixie face displayed a broad smile. “Well, that’s so kind of you. Please take a seat.”
Natalie took a seat, keeping her eyes on her the way you would a dangerous animal. “You know, she worked so hard on those pies. It’s just a shame.”
“Yes, and they are good pies, too. They always sell right away.” Marie dug in her purse, pulling out some folded bills, which she examined. “Here, honey, you put that toward the fundraising.” She pressed them into Natalie’s hand.
“Thank you, we really appreciate it.”
“It’s the least I could do.”
Just then, Carole returned.
“Everything all right?” she asked, her smile strained.
“Just fine,” Natalie responded, noting the tension on Carole’s face. “I’m going to see if Holly has job for me to do.”
She returned to the baked-goods table.
“How’d it go?” Holly asked.
“I’m glad I don’t have to deal with Marie,” Natalie said. “She gave me a donation to add to the coffers.”
She opened her palm, offering the money to Holly.
Holly unfolded the bills. “Two dollars?”
Natalie grimaced. “I guess every little bit helps.”
“You bet.” Holly smiled. ”So, how’s the job hunt going?”
“Ugh. Don’t ask.” She touched the phone in her pocket and resisted the urge
to pull it out and check it.
“Hey, can you watch the table for a minute? I have to take out these two bags of trash. The garbage cans got full pretty quick and I don’t want it piling up.”
“No problem.”
Three customers came up, and Natalie sold two cakes and a pie. Then she sat down, taking advantage of the lull, and took out her cell phone. Should she try calling him? Maybe he was still in the interview.
She debated then slipped the phone back into her pocket.
No news was good news, right?
The cold knot in her stomach didn’t agree.
CHAPTER TWO
MALLORY
When I got back to the church the event was wrapping up. I parked and slipped inside through a rarely used door. The props and decorations had been returned and I could hear the vacuum running a ways away. It should be safe to go back to my spot. I stopped by the bathroom on my way.
A tall basket was perched on an open baby changer. Festooned with ribbons, a sign read Pay It Forward! I peeked inside and gasped. It was stuffed full of cash. There were lots of dollar bills but I saw fives, tens and twenties in there too. I hefted it. Also a fair amount of change, judging by the weight.
What a windfall! I could do a lot with that money. I could get stuff so when the baby came, I’d be ready. So many things babies needed. It was like a gift, waiting for me. It couldn’t be that important if they’d left it there, could it? Maybe they even forgot about it.
I owed it to the baby.
Before I could talk myself out of it, I grabbed the basket and hurried away. Safe in my hidey-hole, I set the basket on the bed.
“I bagged us a big one,” I said to my stomach. The baby kicked and lodged its foot or elbow under my ribs. “Ow. Be nice.” I found another position. “There. You win.”
Visions of baby blankets, onesies, cute little hats and mittens danced across my mind. There was so much a baby needed.
I hadn’t done any infant shopping yet. There hadn’t been much to spare, but now I could have some fun.
I emptied the contents on my blanket and began counting.
NATALIE
Natalie sat on the sofa in the dark. The twins were in the den, playing some sort of computer/TV game that involved jumping around and waving their hands in the air. That, and a great deal of noise. It was amazing that after an afternoon playing games at FebFest, they came home and played more games. What she wouldn’t give to have that childhood energy herself.
The living room offered scant respite. As night fell, she should have put on the lights, but it was too much effort.
Brone hadn’t come home yet. He wasn’t answering his phone, either. Natalie tried to ignore the sick feeling in her stomach. They’d been married six short years. Her second, his first. She thought she knew him but she’d begun to wonder if she’d been wrong, overestimating the transparency she’d taken for granted.
When they’d married, life was good. He had a great job, money wasn’t an issue and life seemed ideal. Then he lost his job, and Natalie saw a side she didn’t anticipate. Brone couldn’t handle tough times. He had a few drinks to relax, first only at night, but then at lunch. They both pretended they weren’t keeping track. She figured he wasn’t pretending.
He spent his days researching job opportunities, networking on the Internet, taking seminars “guaranteeing” he’d find work in a week.
The more time he put into it, the more discouraged he became and before long she could see his efforts to stay upbeat mutate into implausible statements about starting a business and striking out on his own, fueled by increasing amounts of beer with his buddies.
He spent more time at the bar, inviting her to join him at first, but when she declined he chose the place where everybody knows your name over the place where she waited, alone, for him to talk to her.
Men don’t like to talk, friends told her. It’s normal, he’ll snap out of it.
As time went on he didn’t snap out of it. He began to stay out longer and came back smelling like the bar. And something else.
It was the something else that had her sitting in the dark.
She knew his favorite haunts, but did she really want to track him down? Her mother had done that, when her father had cheated. She’d made a fool of herself, stalking him every free moment she had. She built a rock-solid case, but the end result was still divorce. Natalie always thought her mom didn’t get the satisfaction she’d wanted from her efforts, and after that her mom’s life got smaller and smaller, her conversation a one-note tune about betrayal until the bitterness destroyed her.
No, Natalie didn’t want to do the stalker thing. She wasn’t sure how much she wanted to know. Brone was going through a tough time and people made bad decisions when they were tied up in knots. Maybe it would resolve itself if she gave him space to work through it. Maybe the man she’d thought she’d married would reemerge once he figured things out.
She closed her eyes and leaned her head against the sofa. She was tired. Too tired to go through another divorce. Too tired to fight Brone, if this was what he wanted.
She must have dozed off, because the next thing she heard was the front door close. She could see Brone’s movements, exaggerated by intoxication, as he snuck clumsily through the entry and into the kitchen.
A cupboard door banged, and she heard the clank of dishes as he scrounged for something to eat. The microwave hummed, then dinged.
Natalie got up from the sofa and took herself into the kitchen.
“Oh, hi,” Brone said. He leaned a hand on the countertop. Her face must have spoken volumes. He stared at her belligerently. “What?”
She didn’t respond.
“No, if you’re asking. I didn’t get a job today.”
There was anger in his voice. As if it was her fault.
He stumbled, bumping the counter. A wave of revulsion swept over her. She turned and walked out of the room.
She heard more banging behind her, then a crash. She winced. Broken dishes could be replaced. She was afraid that what she didn’t hear breaking was irreparable.
“Daddy’s home!” one of the twins shouted and ran to the kitchen, his sibling hot on his heels.
She tried to block him, but he swept around her like a soccer player going for the goal. She followed in time to see him come to a screeching halt, his brother bumping into him. It would have been comical if the situation hadn’t been so pathetic.
“Daddy! What’s wrong?”
Her husband was on the floor, broken glass around him, red puddles mixing with spaghetti noodles. For a moment she thought he’d cut himself, then realized the red splotches were marinara sauce. Staring at his crying form, her anger with him went from simmer to a roiling boil.
The kids didn’t need to see this.
“Guys, I think you need to get ready for bed now,” she said.
“But what’s wrong with Daddy? I wanna talk to Daddy.”
“Daddy’s not feeling well,” she said, pushing them toward the bedroom. They resisted like obstinate mules. She stopped shoving and put her hands on her hips.
“Now.”
They grumbled, but went. Behind her the crying tapered to silence.
After she was certain the boys were in their room she returned to the kitchen, intent on telling him exactly what she thought of him. He appeared to be passed out. He was snoring, so he wasn’t dead. The rasping noise made her want to go over and kick his big dirty boots. Her anger funneled into frustration.
How much longer could she be the mother, father and main breadwinner for this family? Plus nursemaid to a man who wouldn’t face his reality and take responsibility! She was fed up.
She’d call a lawyer in the morning.
HOLLY
Peter ran ahead and burst into the house. Holly followed, tired after the long afternoon, which had slipped into early evening thanks to the short winter days.
She could hear him running through the rooms, calling for Amy. She knew he was disap
pointed his sister hadn’t come to the festival, especially after she’d promised. As she listened to him holler, she had a momentary fear that her daughter might have used the opportunity to go with her friends, despite the promise not to.
Then the answering voice chimed in and she realized Amy was just where she’d left her, in her bedroom. She breathed a sigh of relief, and chided herself for doubting her. Amy was a good girl, just having teenage growing pains. She wouldn’t relive that for anything.
“We missed you,” Holly said, at the doorway of her daughter’s room. Peter was bouncing around the bed, telling her about the day.
“Sorry,” Amy said, the word unconvincing. She kept her eyes on her little brother.
The sense of unease she’d felt before flickered. They needed to have a good heart-to-heart soon. A trip to Billings or Missoula would give them hours of car time. She’d heard one relationship expert tout the virtues of sitting in a car for a long drive when there were things to discuss. She’d found it to be a handy tool with a teenage daughter.
Peter, having exhausted his narrative, darted out of room. Holly lingered in the doorway. In the old days, she would have simply asked what was wrong and Amy would have told her. Instead, Amy pulled her laptop closer and waited.
“How was your afternoon? Why did you decide to stay home?”
Amy shrugged. “I didn’t feel like going. It’s so juvenile.”
That’s okay, Holly wanted to say. You’re just a kid, be juvenile while you can.
“I see. So what did you do instead?”
“Why did I have to do anything? I just vegged. Didn’t accomplish a thing. Wasted time.”
She scowled, as if daring Holly to comment.
Holly changed the subject. “Did you eat? Are you hungry? Peter filled up on junk food, but I could fix you something.”
“No,” Amy said. “Thanks anyway.”
She sat, stone-faced, waiting for Holly to leave.
After lingering another moment, Holly decided she wasn’t going to get any more out of her and she gave up.
Mike was working late, so Holly ate dinner alone with a glass of wine and a book. Amy stayed in her room and it took everything an exhausted Peter had to take his bath and get in his ‘jamas. By the time he did, she was done eating and curled up on the sofa watching TV. He cuddled next to her and was out like a light. She waited until she knew he was in deep sleep, then took him to his bed. Seeing the light under Amy’s door, she paused.
Paying Forward (The Lone Pine Series) Page 2
