To be fair, she hadn’t experienced it for several years. And since moving on, she rarely thought about John. Mostly she was thankful that she’d escaped a bad situation before she was too old to rebuild a life. So maybe it wasn’t midweek madness at all. She rinsed her coffee cup and set it in the sink. What was wrong with her? Why did she feel out of kilter? She’d taken her usual morning “commute” (her beach walk when she communicated with God). She’d even read her Bible (something Abby’s mom had been encouraging her to do). Even so, she felt like something was wrong or missing or out of balance, like she hadn’t turned off the stove or had forgotten a dentist appointment, which she knew was ridiculous. She looked at her calendar. The only thing there was her regular Wednesday date with Jack’s granddaughter, Hunter, but that wasn’t until this afternoon.
Still, as Marley got out her palette and paints and moved her easel into a better light, she wondered if she’d missed something. Someone’s birthday? She stared blankly over the foggy seascape outside her house and wondered, What’s wrong? Abby often complained about hormone meltdowns and mood swings, some of the fringe benefits of menopause. But so far, other than a random or ill-timed hot flash, Marley hadn’t been too troubled. Plus she’d been doing an herb routine each morning, and she thought it was working. Whatever was troubling her, it wouldn’t help to obsess over it. So she just committed it to God. He was big enough to handle it.
Feeling somewhat better, Marley squirted a glob of cobalt-blue paint onto the palette. Right now her friends were probably sweating over a grueling workout at the fitness club. She didn’t feel the least bit sorry about not being with them. She was glad she hadn’t succumbed to their pressure and joined their ranks. Even Abby’s enticement of 50 percent off hadn’t tempted her. Marley chuckled to remember Abby’s complaints. It sounded like the club was a torture chamber filled with overactive, underweight, and seriously witchy women. Marley could so do without that.
She was just locking her creative attention onto the large blank canvas in front of her, envisioning a bright colored seascape in her head and starting to sketch, when her cell phone rang. With brush in midstroke, she was reluctant to stop, but then she remembered that Ashton hadn’t called her in a couple of days. He was still recovering from a broken heart and sometimes needed to process the emotions. So, setting down her paint-filled brush, she hurried to answer.
“Marley?” It was Jack, and she could tell he was worried.
“Yes,” she said quickly. “What’s up?”
“Uh, well, there’s a problem.”
“What’s wrong?” she asked with concern. Probably because of her earlier premonition, she braced herself and imagined the worst. Someone was dead, a terrorist attack was coming her way, or perhaps Jack had just been diagnosed with an untreatable brain tumor. She held her breath and waited.
“It’s Jasmine.” His voice was full of sadness.
“Is she okay?” Marley felt a bit of relief. Not that she didn’t care about Jack’s daughter, but Jasmine always seemed to be getting into some kind of trouble.
“I’m sure Jasmine is fine,” he said with an edge of exasperation. “But she’s taken off with Floyd somewhere.”
Marley knew that Floyd was Jasmine’s most recent love interest. The attractive young man was charming enough upon first encounter, but it was plain he was a drifter at best, and who knew what else at worst. The first time she’d met Floyd, at a dinner party hosted by Jack a week or so ago, Floyd had proudly confessed to her that he was a rolling stone and planned to keep it that way. Marley had wanted to suggest to him that it might be best for him to just keep on rolling, because Jasmine really didn’t need someone that unsteady in her life right now. Nor did Hunter. But Marley knew she hadn’t earned the right to speak so bluntly. “What about Hunter?” Marley asked Jack. “Did Jasmine take Hunter, too?”
“That’s the problem.”
Marley felt confused. “You mean she took Hunter?”
“No.”
“She left her behind?” Marley wanted clarification, and she wanted it fast.
“Yes, sorry. That’s right.”
Marley felt a huge wave of relief. “But you think that’s a problem?”
“I don’t mean that, not how it sounds. Hunter is definitely not the problem, Marley. And I’m glad Jasmine didn’t take her … to wherever she and Floyd have gone.”
“I’m glad we agree on that.”
“I’m sorry, Marley. I don’t mean to sound like such an old curmudgeon. It’s just that, as usual, I’m caught in a lurch. There’s Hunter, of course, but with Jasmine gone, I’m shorthanded here at the gallery. It’s not as if business is booming right now, but I can’t exactly afford to just close up shop.”
“No, of course not. Do you want me to come down there and give you a hand?”
“Not exactly. Mostly I just wanted to make sure you still planned to pick Hunter up from school today. You still do Wednesdays with her, right?”
“Absolutely.”
“Oh, good.”
“So does Hunter know what’s going on? With her mom, I mean?”
“I don’t know for sure.”
“How did you find out?”
“Email.”
“Really?” Marley was curious. “So what did she say? Is she just going AWOL for a day or two?” That was Jasmine’s usual routine. She’d meet someone on a Friday night and take off for the weekend, which could be rather challenging since Jack’s gallery was busier on weekends than during the week. Hunter was used to hanging at the gallery, but it was a lot to expect of a seven-year-old.
“It’s hard to say. Her note was pretty vague, but I have to admit that something about it feels different this time. I could be wrong, but it almost sounds like she took off for good.”
“No. She couldn’t mean that.”
“I don’t know, Marley. I got a bad feeling this time. I mean worse than usual.”
She could hear the pain in his voice. “I’m so sorry, Jack. Don’t worry, I’m here for you. You know how much I love Hunter. I’ll be happy to have her as long as you need—”
“Don’t get me wrong, Marley. I’m not dumping her on you.”
“That’s not what I meant. I’m just saying I’m glad to have her around. I really like Hunter.”
“Yes, that’s a comfort, Marley.” He sighed. “I just feel like I’m getting too old for this nonsense. I wish Jasmine would just grow up.”
“I know. I think it takes kids longer these days.”
“I guess so.”
“So, really, don’t worry about Hunter. And we have something very special to do today. She’s looking forward to it.” Marley almost spilled the beans about her plan to take Hunter to the Pottery Shed but then remembered that Hunter had made her promise to keep it “secret.” Their plan was to glaze pottery pieces for Christmas presents, and Hunter wanted it to be a surprise. Marley didn’t want to spoil it.
“I should’ve known you’d have things under control.” He made a wry-sounding chuckle. “Too bad you’re not Jasmine’s mother—maybe some of your sensibilities would’ve been passed on to her.”
Marley laughed. “Sensibility doesn’t happen overnight.”
“I suppose that’s true.”
So she promised to bring Hunter by the gallery before five as usual, assuring him that everything would be okay. “You’re not alone in this, Jack.”
“Thanks, Marley. You have no idea how much that means to me. I know how much Hunter loves you, and at a time like this, well, I just really appreciate it.”
As she set her phone down, Marley wondered if her sense of uneasiness and apprehension had been related to this. Perhaps something in her spirit had been trying to warn her that a challenge was coming her way. She wondered about Jack’s concerns—what if Jasmine really was gone for good? What
would become of Hunter? Most likely Jack would get custody. Though Marley would be more than willing to help him, she wondered how realistic that would be. Playing grandma was one thing, but she felt too old to be a full-time parent of a young child. Not that Jack was asking her to do anything like that. She knew their relationship hadn’t reached that level, but what did this really mean? She cared deeply about Hunter and Jack, and she was willing to do what she could to help out, but how would they manage it? Would they shuffle the seven-year-old back and forth between them like a library book? Even if they could manage Hunter’s care, how would it ultimately affect the girl?
Marley looked around her tiny bungalow. As much as she liked having Hunter here, this place really wasn’t big enough for an active child on a full-time basis. Plus, Marley didn’t even have a second bedroom. Hunter would have to sleep on the couch if she stayed here. Besides that, there were no kids living this far out of town. Hunter would be isolated. Marley briefly considered the possibility of setting up camp in Jasmine’s apartment. That would be the selfless thing to do—allow Hunter to live in her own room, ride the school bus, be around a familiar place.
Except that the mere thought of living in those low-income, cardboard-quality apartments was so depressing that Marley couldn’t bear it. That place would drive her nuts in no time. Plus, how would she keep up with her painting in such an uninspiring place? Painting was not a hobby; it was her livelihood.
Instead of obsessing over all these nit-picking details and possible pitfalls, Marley decided again to hand the whole bit over to God. He could lead her. He would see her through. Certainly God cared about cast-off little girls like Hunter Holland. Marley was sure of it. Between Jack and Marley and the God of the universe, Hunter would be just fine.
It wasn’t until Marley was picking up Hunter at the grade school that she realized Hunter might not be aware of her mother’s departure yet. Or, if she did know, she might be feeling a little bummed or confused or abandoned. Whatever the case, Marley decided the best way to handle the situation was to be as honest and open as possible. Besides, it wasn’t as if this was something entirely new to Hunter.
Trying to act natural, Marley met Hunter by the office and hugged her. It wasn’t until after Hunter had filled Marley in on the latest developments between friends and activities at school that Marley decided to dive in. “So, your grandpa told me that your mom has gone somewhere with Floyd,” she began.
“Yeah.” Hunter was digging through her backpack for something.
“You know about that already?”
“Sure.” Hunter was actually sounding unconcerned and fairly normal.
“So did your mom tell you she was going?”
“Uh-huh.”
“When did she tell you that?”
“I don’t know. A while ago. I think she’s in love with Floyd.”
“Oh.” Marley tried to wrap her head around this child’s nonchalance. Sometimes it was difficult to believe that Hunter was only seven. Marley remembered Ashton at seven (more than twenty years ago). He’d been very needy and insecure, but that probably had as much to do with Marley as anything. She’d sheltered and protected him a lot. “So what did you think when your mom told you that, Hunter?”
“I dunno.” There was a rustling of papers. “Here it is,” Hunter said triumphantly. “I thought I’d never find it.”
“What’s that?”
“The permission slip for our field trip. We’re going to do our Christmas program at the place where the old people live.”
“Oh.” Marley nodded. “That’s nice.”
“But my mom has to sign this.” Suddenly there was an anxious tone in Hunter’s voice. “Or else I can’t go. And afterward we get to have a party and Santa will be there. I have to get permission or I can’t go.”
“We’ll get you permission,” Marley assured her.
“But Mrs. Hanford said our parents have to sign this.”
As she slid in the car and glanced in the rearview mirror, Marley saw Hunter holding the rumpled paper up, waving it frantically.
“Your grandpa will sign it for you, Hunter.”
“But Grandpa’s not my mom or my dad!” Hunter was starting to cry.
Marley pulled into the Walgreen’s lot and parked. She got out of the car, hurried to the back, and slid in next to Hunter in the backseat. Slipping an arm around the sobbing girl, she pushed some curly strands of red hair out of Hunter’s face. “It’s okay,” she said soothingly. “Your teacher will understand. Really, your grandpa is like a parent. He helps take care of you. I’m sure it’s okay for him to sign the release form too. Because he does help parent you. You know that, don’t you?”
Hunter nodded. “I guess so.”
“Your teacher knows that too. Don’t worry. You’ll get to go on the field trip. I’m sure of it.”
Hunter looked up at Marley with scared brown eyes. “Is Mommy coming back this time?”
Marley didn’t know what to say. “Oh, you know, she always comes back, Hunter.”
“But that was before. Before she met Floyd.” Hunter wiped her nose on the sleeve of her jacket. “She loves Floyd. She said so. What if she doesn’t come back?”
“She’ll come back.”
“How do you know? Did she tell you she was coming back? I want to know the truth, Marley. I want to know!”
Marley pulled Hunter close to her again. “I don’t honestly know for sure, sweetie. But I do know this—you have people right here who love you very much, people who will take care of you. You have your grandpa and me. And we won’t let anything bad happen to you. Now, you know that’s true, don’t you?”
Hunter sniffed and nodded. “Yeah.”
“So let’s just make the most of it, okay?”
“Okay.” Hunter handed the permission slip to Marley.
She smoothed it and folded it in half, slipping it into her purse. “So do you still want to go to the Pottery Shed today?”
“Yeah.” Hunter brightened. “Can we still do that?’
“Absolutely!”
Marley tried to keep their conversation lighthearted. Focusing on school and Christmas and today’s activity, she was careful not to mention Jasmine or Floyd or anything that would bring them back to the topic. As they picked out their first greenware pieces and Marley gave Hunter some tips on applying light-colored glazes first, she felt fairly certain that Hunter had temporarily forgotten about her missing mother. Then after Hunter finished a brightly striped popcorn bowl for her grandpa, she started in on her second piece, an oversized coffee mug. She carefully painted a purple and yellow butterfly on one side. Then, turning it around and in her best second-grade lettering, Hunter painted the word Mommy across the other side.
“See?” She proudly held it up for Marley to see.
Marley nodded. It was such a sweet and resilient and forgiving gesture that it took all of Marley’s self-control not to cry. “That is lovely, Hunter. Your mother is going to love it.”
“I know.”
Marley thought of her own mom. Sometimes, while growing up, Marley had felt her mother was distracted by her own interests and her own pleasures. Pulled by her husband and her circle of friends, she’d let Marley live her own life as she liked. Just the same, her mom had always been there when Marley needed her, and she had never walked out on Marley. Never. It probably would have been just as unimaginable to Marley’s mom as it was to Marley that any mother could do something like that.
Chapter 4
Caroline
If these walls really could talk, Caroline felt fairly certain she’d place both hands over her ears and make a mad dash out of this derelict house and never come back. So much anger, disappointment, and dysfunction had been contained in these rooms since the time her father had purchased the house nearly sixty years ago.
Oh, her mother put some effort into making it a pleasant home. When Caroline was little, she recalled her mom planting some trees and shrubs, and she’d even tucked some flower bulbs in the beds alongside the walk. For years the tulips and daffodils would pop up in the early spring … until weeds and neglect won out.
Caroline remembered the summer Aunt Fanny came out to visit. Her mother had been so excited to see her favorite aunt. The house still looked pretty good back then. It was less than ten years old, and the laminate countertops weren’t cracked and pitted and stained yet. The vinyl floors still shone, and the avocado-green carpet was still fashionable. Other than a couple of holes in the walls, which her mother had attempted to patch or cover, the place was presentable. Caroline’s mom even made a new slipcover for the couch out of a green and gold floral pattern, and she’d purchased new sheets and a sky-blue bedspread for Caroline’s bedroom, so Aunt Fanny could use the small space as her guest room while Caroline camped in a sleeping bag on the living-room floor.
Thanks to Caroline’s dad’s short-fused temper, Aunt Fanny’s visit was cut short, and no relatives ever came to stay with them after that. Caroline suspected that word had spread: Something was wrong with the McCanns in Clifden.
Even so, Caroline had to give her mom a little credit. The downtrodden woman had tried to improve their lot in life, at first anyway. While cleaning and sorting through old things, a box of faded snapshots had jogged Caroline’s memory. At first Caroline hadn’t been able to believe her eyes: photos of Caroline and her older brother dressed for church and smiling. Shots of them in new pajamas in front of a Christmas tree. One with Caroline and her brother and father on the only camping trip they’d ever taken together. It had to have been the first day, because they still looked clean and happy. That trip had also ended earlier than planned, and she remembered the miserable, silent ride back home.
Sure, her mother had tried to make their lives better, back when the kids were still small, but time and troubles wore her down. Eventually, she gave up. She gave in to her husband’s tyranny, and the gradual deterioration of their home seemed to be evidence of her defeat. It was a sad house.
Here's to Friends Page 3
