Her father’s words floated back to her. “You’ve started to believe this mental illness crap. She was a slut and a whore, plain and simple!”
Will he think that there’s something morally wrong with Isabella because she tried to kill herself? she asked herself. In the Catholic Church, she knew suicide was a sin, but as parents we’ve been woefully lax in getting Isabella any kind of religious education. But what happened to my mother? Would finding her answer my questions? And if I knew, would it make me a better mother?
Addison settled for the comforting routine of opening the cigarette pack, pulling one out, tapping the loose tobacco down and lighting the cigarette rather than finding life’s deeper answers.
After all, what good would it do? June had always been the family secret, the one thing Grandma Addison and her father refused to discuss. Digging it all up made him look at it again, find all those old scars. It’s been so much easier to ignore it, to believe that she’d done him—us, really— wrong. He wants to believe she really meant to do those things, that it was some way to get back at him for something. I just wish I knew what it was.
Sighing, Addison walked down the hall to the stairs, padding down to the last step, where, inhaling deeply, she crouched to watch Duncan.
He’d set up his easel and begun a portrait of their daughter, pinning Isabella’s school picture to the corner for reference.
He’d broadly sketched her outline and, having already mixed his paints on the palette, was starting to fill the outline of her hair with small auburn dots.
Duncan may have been a farmer by birth, but he was a painter at heart. Fascinated by the Impressionist George Seurrat, Duncan worked in the pointillist style, precisely placing each small dot of auburn and brown to match his daughter’s reddish hair.
It wasn’t his first portrait of their daughter. Another pointillist work, of Isabella at her first birthday hung above the fireplace in the living room.
“It’s beautiful,” Addison said softly.
Duncan turned to look at her and smiled sadly. “Yeah. Just had our girl on my mind.” He paused. “You call the office?”
“Yes. The office didn’t know anything about the ransom note or the letter Jaylynn got, so I didn’t say anything.”
Duncan sat his brush and palette down. “Good move. We need to think about Isabella. It hasn’t been easy, has it?”
“No. Do you think Dad would tell me what happened to my mother?”
“I don’t know if he really knows. Do you want to know what happened?”
Addison inhaled on her cigarette and exhaled slowly. “Yes and no. I mean, where would it get me? Would finding where she went do any more than just answer some questions? Would it make me a better mother? Would it make Isabella better?”
Duncan sighed and came to join her on the steps, wrapping his strong arms around her. “It won’t make Isabella better, but it could give us some tools to help her. Family secrets are destructive. You see that every day.”
“What if I wanted to go looking for my mother?”
“Maybe sometime in the future, Penny, but not now. We’ve got to make sure Isabella is stable first.”
She was quiet for a moment. He was right about searching for her mother. She had no idea where she’d start or how to look. People disappeared every day—adults who never wanted to be found again. It could be a long and ultimately fruitless search. She changed the subject. “What if I wanted to go back to work?”
Quickly, Addison explained about the ransom money drop and the police being upset Seaford hadn’t been completely honest with them about his affair. “I think something’s going to happen soon and I’d like to be there when it does,” she finished.
Duncan rolled his head back to stare at the ceiling and was silent for a moment. “I guess so. You just have to promise me that whatever happens, Isabella will come first. If you have to hand this story off to Marcus or to miss a press conference, then that’s the way it’s got to be. Isabella’s life is much more important than that.”
“Dunk, it’s not like I don’t care about Isabella, but you know I can’t just walk off a big story, any more than you’d leave a sick calf. I’ve always been that way and I can’t stop now. Besides, we’re short one reporter and people are already working hard to cover my absence.”
“Do you love your daughter?”
“Dunk, that’s not fair! You know I do!”
“I know, but things have to change around here. We’ve got to put Isabella first and I know you can’t let loose of a story when you get deep into it.”
“Listen, if this drop happens the way it’s supposed to, then everything should be over within a day or so.”
“And what if it doesn’t?”
Addison was silent a few moments. “I have good feelings about this, Dunk. I think Gary and these FBI agents have an idea on how to get that little girl back, and I really believe they’re going to get it done. It’s all going to be over soon and then Jubilant Falls will get back to being the dumpy little Ohio town it was meant to be.”
“For our sake, I hope you’re right, Penny.”
Chapter 19
“Mom!”
Isabella threw her arms open wide and tried to walk quickly across the visitor’s lounge before her beltless pants began to slip down around her slim hips. Addison stood and met her daughter halfway across the room, hugging her tightly.
“Oh baby, I’m so glad to see you!” She let loose long enough to brush Isabella’s curly red hair from her face and hold her daughter’s warm cheeks in her hands. “How are you feeling?”
Izzy nodded, smiling sadly. “I’m getting better.” She crossed her arms across her chest. Addison blanched at the white bandages that covered her stitched wrists like cuffs. “Food here isn’t very good.”
Addison laid her arm across Izzy’s shoulders and steered her back to the molded plastic table and chairs where Duncan was sitting, fast food bags in front of him.
“We heard that and checked with Doc Fairfax—she said we could bring you some McDonald’s.”
“Cool!” Izzy smiled, the first real smile Addie had seen in a long time. She slid into the chair and fished through the bag. She pulled out a single French fry and stuffed it into her mouth as she searched for the burger with the other hand.
“Good grief, child, haven’t you eaten since you’ve been here?” Duncan stuffed a straw into her soda and pushed it at her.
“I told Mom the food is really bad. Hey, this isn’t Mountain Dew!”
“No caffeine. Doctors orders.”
Isabella groaned theatrically, but sipped the fruit punch anyway and bit ravenously into her burger. Her smile was broad and genuine, but there still was something a little sad in her eyes. Addison stroked her back and intently watched her eat.
“Have they started you on any medication?” Duncan asked quietly after a few moments.
Isabella nodded, her mouth full. “Yeah. Did Doc talk to you at all?”
“Yes. They were supposed to start you on Lithium this afternoon.”
“They did. I feel a little better. They said it’s going to be a few days before I feel completely better.” She laid her burger on its paper wrapping and looked at Addison. “Doc Fairfax thinks your mom had this and that it got passed down to me.”
“Yes.”
Her voice dropped. “I’m sorry, Mom. I’m so sorry.” Her chest heaved and she clapped both hands against her mouth, trying to shove back her emotion.
“Baby, it’s OK.” Duncan said as he and Addison each laid an arm across her shoulders. The three of them drew into a small, close huddle.
“I thought I’d disappointed you and I didn’t want to disappoint you.” Izzy whispered into the safe harbor of her parents hug. “I was just so angry when I hit that old bat and then I was so depressed that I’d gotten in so much trouble. I didn’t want to live anymore.”
“What happened, honey?” Addison asked softly.
They all three leaned back into
their molded plastic chairs as Isabella began to speak.
“Mrs. Worthington was ragging on Jerry Callicoat in class. You know Jerry. He’s not one of the brightest kids in the world, and you know he’s a real skater dude. He’s got long stringy hair and all he wears is black. He’s not like those kids she loves to have in class, the football players, and the blonde-cheerleader-advanced-placement-class-Young-Republican types.
“People say Jerry’s a stoner, but he’s not. He told me he’s never smoked any dope in his life. His parents want him to go to college, and he knows he’s not smart enough but that’s why he’s in that algebra class and that’s why he’s failing. Worthington just rides his ass—his butt, I mean—every chance she gets.”
“Hmm.” Duncan said thoughtfully, looking at Addison. No surprise their daughter had taken up with the underdog, stood up to the powers that be. After all, Mom did it every day in print.
“Go on,” Addison said softly.
“I told her to lay off, that Jerry wasn’t doing anything wrong, he just didn’t understand and Worthington just kept nagging at him ‘Mr. Callicoat, do you own clothing in any colors other than black? Mr. Callicoat, possibly getting some of that hair out of your eyes might enable you pay more attention in class.’ He just sat there, hanging his head. All those preps sitting around him were snickering and laughing and it just made it worse. He didn’t answer her because those are the same kind of things his parents say to him all the time—he’s told me that. I just got pissed off.”
“What did you say?’
“I stood up and told her to lay off, to stop it. She doesn’t know he can fix just about anything you put in front of him. He tore apart this girl’s dad’s riding lawnmower when it didn’t work and put it back together in an afternoon and it’s like new. I wasn’t going to let Worthington say those things to him.”
“What did you say to her, Izzy?” Addison whispered as she stroked her daughter’s arm.
“When I told her to shut up, she told me this wasn’t any of my business and that if I continued to interfere, it would get me a detention. I told her go ahead, I’d fight it. She said ‘Oh, you think you can get your mother to splash it all over the front page?’ And I don’t know what happened right then. It was like I got struck by lightning or possessed by the devil or something. All this rage just boiled up in me and the next thing I knew, I was at the front of the class and swinging at her.”
“Standing up for Jerry Callicoat was admirable,” Addison said slowly. “And Worthington was certainly out of line. She’s been teaching for a million years and probably should have retired sometime before Johnson was elected president. But that doesn’t make what you did right.”
“I know,” Izzy answered, tears welling up in her green eyes. “That was why I tried to kill myself. I got thrown out of school. I embarrassed you and Dad. I didn’t want to live anymore.”
“Tell me about the day you pounded your locker door in.”
She hung her head.
“I don’t know why I did it. I just get these rages. They just come and they take over my whole body, like there’s something evil inside me and I’m doing everything I can to control it. Sometimes certain things set me off, sometimes they just come out of the blue and I can’t do anything about it. I can’t tell anybody about them because they just seem so wrong. I feel like I’m so out of control, like one big angry fire that won’t go out. Sometimes it happens a couple times a day; sometimes I can go for a week or more without it happening. The littlest thing can set me off—sometimes it’s nothing at all. When I beat my locker in, I told the dean of students, Mr. Johnson, some kid had done it, but I don’t think he believed me.“
“He didn’t,” Duncan interjected.
“Whatever I do, the fire won’t go out and I can’t do anything except let it burn. I just rage and rage and scream and it just won’t stop. If I talked to you about it, I was afraid you’d put me away or something.” She looked at her surroundings and smiled sadly. “And maybe if I had, I wouldn’t have tried to kill myself.”
“Tell me what it’s like when you’re depressed,” Addison prompted her. Memories of June in a dark bedroom, her only light the glow of her cigarette swirled around Addison. She looked at Isabella, seeing only June’s red hair, June’s laughing green eyes in her daughter. If only I’d put it together, she thought, I could have saved my daughter. I could have prevented this disaster.
“It always comes right after I get out of those rages. It’s like a pit I’ll never climb out of because every time I try to claw my way out, the dirt keeps falling on top of me. And this time, I’d gotten so angry and so out of control, more out of control than I’d ever been before, and I knew I’d really screwed up. It scared me when Mr. Johnson said he thought I might be bipolar.”
“What if he’d told you he thought you were diabetic? Would you have tried to kill yourself then?” Duncan asked.
“No, that’s, like, a disease. You take shots for it and you’re OK. There’s some sophomore in my history class who has to go to the nurse right before class and take an insulin shot every day. She forgot one day and passed out in the middle of a test.”
“But this is a disease, too, and it takes medication to control it,” Duncan said. “If it was just a matter of taking pills, you’d do that, right?”
“Dad, it’s not that simple! You don’t understand what it’s like to be in the middle of one of these, these fires!” Isabella threw up her hands. “Everybody knows you can’t control your heart beat or how your stomach digests food, but most people think they can control their own mind, the way they think! I spend so much time just trying to stay in control, just trying to keep all this from everyone around me. It’s awful, Dad, worse than anything I ever thought I could endure. And I just couldn’t take it anymore!”
Duncan hung his head.
“My mother used to sit in her bedroom in the dark when I was little,” Addison said softly. “She wouldn’t come out for days at a time. And here I was four years old, wondering if she didn’t love me anymore.”
“What did you do? How did you eat?”
“She wouldn’t let me in to see her, so I sat in front of her door and played with my dolls. I could get into the fridge by then and I’d pick out what I could find on the lower shelves—bread, carrot sticks, and jelly right out of the jar. Your granddad would come home and ask me how long she’d been in there and I’d lie. I’d say just a few minutes, but looking back it was pretty obvious she hadn’t moved the whole day. She’d come out and cook dinner some times, but then she’d just go right back into their bedroom.”
“What did she do when she was manic?” Izzy asked.
“She was pretty irresponsible with money and the people in her life.” Addison chose her words carefully. No sense in laying the whole truth out right now.
“What happened to her?”
Addison shrugged. “I don’t know. She and Granddad split up. She left town and I grew up with Granddad at his mother’s house. You remember Grammy Addison, don’t you?”
“Uh huh.”
“Back then, people thought she should have been able to control her actions and her emotions, too.”
“And she couldn’t?”
“I don’t think so, honey, and Jubilant Falls is a small town. People had different attitudes then, too, about what women should do and be. Mental health problems just weren’t talked about. I don’t think the hospital had any psychiatric wards, either.”
“So I’m getting a chance that June didn’t?”
“You could say that. If June had a chance to get this kind of help, then maybe things would have turned out differently.”
The sound of chairs scraping on the linoleum floor interrupted them. A young black nurse, her hair in short cornrows, was quietly moving visitors toward the ward’s locked door.
“Visiting hours are over,” she said firmly as she came toward their table. “Come on, Isabella, time to say goodnight.”
“OK. Can I tak
e the food back with me?”
The nurse inspected the contents of the bag, then nodded. “We have to check for contraband, like drugs or cigarettes,” she explained. “Looks OK. Go ahead.”
Isabella turned to her parents. “See you tomorrow?”
“Wouldn’t miss it. One more thing,” Addison turned to face the nurse. “I’m thinking about going back to work. That shouldn’t be a problem should it?”
“Of course not. She’s doing well. Just make sure that we have a number where we can get in touch with you.”
“I’ll be OK Mom. Go on—go back to the newsroom.”
Chapter 20
“I’m ba-a-ack!” Addison spoke to the empty newsroom and spread her arms wide. It was early, just after sunrise. She had rushed eagerly through breakfast to get here before everyone else did, leaving the morning milking to Duncan, who’d rolled his eyes in displeasure that she was heading back to work before Isabella was released from the hospital.
Quietly, she walked around the room, flipping on lights, checking the front pages from the last few days tacked up on the hallway wall by the morgue, so called because all the “dead” or past issues were stacked there or bound into tall black books. She’d been trying to convince Watt they needed to go digital on their archival system as well, get a computer and a clerk to work part-time putting daily issues on compact discs, but so far he’d refused.
A quick perusal of the front pages showed her she hadn’t missed much. Marcus had a small story on how police had dismissed the hordes of volunteer searchers, but refused to comment on why they were calling off the massive efforts.
He’d quoted Gary McGinnis as saying “We have not changed our focus from a rescue to a recovery yet. We believe Lyndzee Thorn is still alive, but are not at liberty to discuss any leads that we may have received.”
When can we break the news that it’s a kidnapping? she wondered. If the drop happens Saturday night, like Jaylynn says, then the TV stations could have it by 11:00 p.m. and we won’t have anything until Monday. That will make us look dumber than dirt. I wonder if I could talk Watt into an extra edition Sunday morning? This is certainly the biggest story to hit Jubilant Falls in years.
Barn Burner (Jubilant Falls series Book 1) Page 15
