A Strange Little Band

by Judith B. Glad

The tough kid with a shell of steel was back. Hildy sashayed across the room, as if she didn't give a damn about anyone in it. Her tighter-than-skin jeans barely concealed her pubic hair, the ring in her navel gleamed, her hair had red, purple and green streaks this morning. She detoured to pick up a mug of coffee, more, Cecile was sure, to prove that she answered to no one than because she needed it.

  "Yeah? Whatcha want?" She hiked one foot onto a bench and leaned on the knee. The gaze she turned on Cecile was somewhere between 'damn your eyes' and 'I need a hug'.

  "Are you packed?" Ward said, as if her appearance and attitude was the most natural thing in the world.

  "Sure. When do we leave for Grandma's House?"

  What she needs is a good spanking. Trouble is, it should have happened ten years ago. Cecile took a second look. No, what she needs is a hug. Unfortunately Hildy was far too prickly this morning to accept a hug willingly.

  "We don't," Ward said, his tone mild. "You and I are driving to Salt Lake City, where we'll catch a flight for L.A. Tomorrow we'll go see Les Champion."

  Just like a man, Cecile thought, as Hildy's face went perfectly white. No delicacy at all. She caught the girl's arm and pulled her to the bench. She was shaking as if she'd caught a chill.

  "Oh, hell, Hildy, I didn't think--" Ward scooted over to sit beside her and closed her into a close embrace. "I thought you wanted to see him."

  "I do," she sobbed into Ward's shirt. "I do. I do. Oh, God, is this for real?"

  Cecile waved everyone away. She'd satisfy their curiosity later. "It's for real, child. Ward's been trying to get through to Mr. Champion for several days. This morning he finally succeeded."

  "When?" Hildy said, on a hiccup.

  "Today. As soon as we can get away, in fact. But first you've got to change clothes."

  That brought Hildy's tear-stained face out of the shirt. "Huh? I am dressed."

  "And I'm old fashioned enough not to want to be seen with someone who looks like an invitation to rape. Go put on something decent."

  "Ward," Cecile said, warningly, "don't--"

  "No, it's all right. Les would have a cow if he saw me like this." She stood up, smiling tremulously. "I'll hurry." She cut through the crowd. By the time she passed the window, she was at a dead run.

  Cecile smiled at her son. "Hmmm."

  "Hmmm, indeed," he replied. "It should be an interesting trip."

  Chapter Twenty-six

  The bunkroom looked sad, somehow, as if it needed the clutter and color of women to bring it alive. Ben had already picked up Gran's suitcase and tote bag. CeCe's duffle and backpack sat on her bed and Charlene's suitcase stood beside the door, next to some muddy sneakers with her iPod tucked into one. Annie knelt to look under the beds, knowing that at least one shoe or sock had migrated there. Sure enough...

  "Annie, are you still here?"

  "In the bunkroom, Mom." She rose to her feet, dusted off her knees. The striped sock she'd found must be CeCe's. Charlene wouldn't be caught dead in anything pink and orange. She tucked it into a pocket on the backpack.

  Her mother appeared at the door. "Don't you just hate the last day? It's so sad, somehow, saying goodbye to everyone all at once. I'd much rather stretch it out over several days."

  "Oh, I don't know. This way it's like pulling off a bandage. Ripping off the tape doesn't hurt nearly as much as pulling it off a little at a time."

  Her mother stepped aside, motioning Annie into the hall. "I saw the girls heading out on one last hike, and thought we might have a place for a quiet visit before you go."

  A visit? Annie eyed her mother with suspicion. When she was a teen, 'visit' was Mom's word for a lecture. Unable to think of a good excuse to disappear, she said, "I heard Elaine promise Jeremy they'd go say goodbye to the horses, so we're alone here. Shall I make coffee?"

  "No, thank you, darling. I'll just get myself a glass of water."

  Annie looked in the fridge. There were two Cokes and a pint bottle of orange juice. She went for empty calories and caffeine. Settling herself in one corner of the sofa, she said, "Well, mother?"

  "I never could fool you, could I? Yes, I want to talk to you." Her mother settled at the other end. "Your grandmother has convinced me that you need to know--" Her mother bit her lip. "Oh, dear, this is going to be difficult. I've kept it a secret for so long."

  "Good heavens. A deep dark secret? Who did you kill?"

  To her complete astonishment, her mother burst into tears.

  She scooted down the sofa. "Don't cry. Please." Arms around her mother, Annie patted her back and fought tears of her own. "Whatever it is, it can't be that bad. Please, don't cry."

  Her whole family was prone to sentimental tears. The women wept at children playing, at beautiful sunsets, at sentimental poetry. Everyone loved to wallow in the bathos of a sappy-happy ending to a movie. Even Uncle Ward, the compleat engineer, was apt to choke up at the final scene in Bambi.

  This was different. These harsh, choking sobs were for real. Annie took hold of her mother's shoulders and shook her. "Stop it! Stop this right now! Whatever it is you want to tell me can't be that bad."

  Thea made a conscious effort to halt the flood of tears. She gulped, sniffed, and hiccupped. Patting her pockets, she failed to find a tissue, so she used the sleeve of her sweatshirt to wipe her eyes, something she'd always scolded the children for doing. "I'm sorry."

  "So am I. You know how I hate it when you cry."

  Annie did look truly distressed. She'd always been the worst of the children about seeing her mother upset. That was why Thea had learned to hold in the real tears until she could shed them when everyone thought she was being sentimental.

  When Annie started to move back to the other end of the sofa, she reached out and caught her hand. "No. Stay here, where I can touch you. I...I need to."

  "Mom--"

  "Please. I have to tell you this. Maybe it will help you. I've never talked about it." Her inhalation fluttered, as if something was catching the air before it got to her lungs. "You were not quite two, and on the go every waking moment. I had a terrible time keeping up with you."

  She held up a hand when Annie would have spoken. "Your father had been called to a construction site. Some question about the electrical system, I think. We were supposed to go to Oxbow Park with friends. He told me to go ahead, that he'd come if he got the problem solved before it was too late.

  "There was a little beach near our tables, perfect for children. A log lay at an angle to the shore, so that there was no current to speak of. The water was shallow, no deeper than a foot, even by the log." Behind her eyelids, Thea could still see the sun flashing off the rippling water, still smell the steaks cooking on the grill set into the ground. The laughter of children cam from all around, for many families had come to the park to celebrate an unseasonably warm Mother's Day, an unusually sunny Sunday. Even the river was warm that day, for all it drained the slopes and glaciers of Mount Hood.

  "You were younger than the other children, but determined to play in the water just as they were. You had on a little yellow playsuit. It hung to your knees without a diaper under it. Those old gauze ones got so heavy when they were soaked. Yours drooped lower and lower, until I finally took it off."

  Annie returned her smile. "I should think so. Thank goodness for disposables."

  "I got caught up in a discussion--something about Vietnam, I'm sure. I held pretty strong opinions about it, even though Ward and poor Harald were both in the Army. Some of the others were staunch supporters of Johnson's policies, and I was being pretty vehement about how wrong they were." A good thing she hadn't seen the future. She might have argued even more passionately. "I was so wrapped up in what I was saying that I forgot to keep my eye on you."

  "I know how easy that is to do," Annie said, her mouth twisting in a grimace of regret.

  "We all do it, darling. That's why I'm telling you this now, so you'll see that you're not the only mother who...who failed. And because...well, I s
aw how you reacted to Joey falling into the river the other day. You're still frightened of water, aren't you?"

  "No really frightened, but certainly not entirely comfortable in it, or on it. More so now, since Calvin..." Again that remorseful twist to her mouth. She shrugged. "I had some trouble getting into the river to fish, but it didn't seem as frightening as if I was in a boat. Or swimming." She gave a shaky little laugh. "You don't have to put your face in the water when you fish."

  She leaned forward, caught Thea's hands, which had been twisting the tassels on a cushion. "What do you mean, I'm not the only mother who failed? Do you know someone else who let something terrible happen to her child? Who?"

  Thea returned the pressure, until their hands were so tightly clasped that her fingers tingled. "Me. I failed you, darling. I almost killed you."

  "That can't be true."

  "Oh, it is." She untangled one hand, held up a finger. "Listen to me.

  "I'd just finished a fervent little speech about how we had to stop minding everyone's business but our own, how we needed to bring our soldiers home before they all died in a war that we shouldn't be fighting. I'd really been caught up in it, to the exclusion of all else. Then I looked down at the river--"

  In that instant she was back there, seeing the little beach, where her baby had been only a moment before....

  She told the story in broken sentences, describing the scene she'd relived so recently. "You'd swallowed a lot of water," she said finally, "and for a while we were afraid you'd suffered some lasting effects, but you were fine, thank God. Later you seemed to have no memory of what happened, except that you were afraid of water. So we never spoke of it."

  Annie sat for a long time, her hands clenched in her lap, breathing in short gasps. Thea was afraid to say anything, afraid of what her daughter might say to her.

  "I remembered. I thought they were nightmares. I fall into the water and float. The water carries me away. It's nice at first, because it feel like I'm on the softest, nicest bed. It sings to me, too.

  "Then water splashes in my face. I choke. Gasp, and instead of air, I inhale water. It hurts. I choke again.

  "The water won't let me go. It's like some awful monster, clinging to me with cold fingers, sucking all the warmth out of me, filling my nose and mouth so I can't breathe. Something hits me on the head. It hurts. A monster scratches me with its sharp fingers. I roll over and scrape my face on a sharp thing. When I open my mouth to cry, I swallow more water." She buried her face in her hands. "My God! Is this what Calvin felt? Were these his last thoughts?"

  Mentally cursing her mother for advising this confession, Thea embraced Annie. "No, darling. No. Calvin's death must have been peaceful. He was in a quiet pond, not a rushing river. I think it must have been as if he went to sleep."

  "Bullshit." Annie pushed her away so hard that she almost fell off the sofa. "You didn't see the water lily stems wrapped around his little legs, the bruises on his little arms and shoulders. He fought to escape, Mom, and he died fighting.

  "No," she said, holding up a hand when Thea would have embraced her, comforted her. "Don't touch me. I have to think about this. I have to think about how much more careful I might have been if you'd told me this a long time ago."

  "But darling--" Once again Thea reached out.

  "I'm not blaming you for...for Calvin, Mom. But I do need time to think about this. Can we just leave it for now? Someday I'll be ready to talk about this, but not now. Not today."

  Although her heart ached for Annie, Thea nodded. "I'm, sorry, darling. It's just that, I was afraid--" How could she explain that she'd feared that Annie might not forgive her negligence? And later, when Annie's fear of water had become apparent, she'd truly believed that there was no connection with her near-drowning.

  Ma and Gib had disagreed, but she'd been so certain, had even spoken to a child psychologist about it. He had supported her opinion, and so the secret had been kept.

  "I'm sorry," she said again. "I only did it for your own good."

  Slowly Annie stretched out a hand and touched her knee. "I know that, Mom. And I do love you. It's just that right now I'm angry and hurt and upset and...and I don't know how I feel. Give me time, will you? Time to sort this all out?"

  Knowing she had no choice, Thea said, "Of course, darling. Call me when you're ready to talk."

  Annie merely nodded before rising and returning to the bunkroom.

  With an aching heart, Thea walked to the Big House, glad the week was over.

  This has been the damnedest Gathering. Nothing has gone the way it was supposed to.

  * * * *

  Hetty stood on the porch of the Big House, watching Frank load their luggage into the 'Vette. She'd filled its meager cargo space with her stuff on the trip from Seattle, planning to ship the suitcase full of outdoor clothing home on a bus. Since they were headed for Seattle, instead of their licentious week in San Francisco, it seemed silly to ship anything. It was a good thing he'd packed light. His single duffle was crammed on top of her suitcase, behind the passenger seat. She'd insisted on having the top up for the trip home, despite Frank's request that it be down. Two days of windburn would leave her looking like hell.

  She jumped when an arm went around her waist. "He doesn't hold it against you, you know," Gran said softly. "He's really very fond of you."

  "If you say so," she replied, knowing that this time her aunt was wrong. How could Frank help but blame her for putting him in a cast for the next month? She figured she was lucky that he'd agreed to drive her home, much as she hated to let anyone else hold the wheel of her baby.

  Ben pulled the Land rover up beside the 'Vette. "Let's get you loaded, Gran. Louisa is over giving Eric's kids one last hug."

  "I'll give you a hand," Frank said. He came up to the porch and picked up the two suitcases Gran indicated.

  While the men were debating how best to fit them in, Hetty said, "Will you do me a favor? Will you talk to my father again. Try to make him see that Mother's drinking really is out of control."

  Gran sighed. "I'll do my best. But it may not be good enough. John has a tendency to see what he wants to see, no matter what the evidence is otherwise."

  "I know. But try, okay?"

  "Of course. Yes, I'm coming," she said, when Ben held the door open. "I am so not looking forward to this trip," she said, sotto voce, " but I'd never tell him that."

  Hetty followed Gran down the steps, and climbed into the passenger seat of her 'Vette. "This feels strange."

  Frank closed the door on her without replying.

  Oh, this is going to be a great trip. A bitchy passenger, a surly driver. What fun!

  * * * *

  This was the part she hated. Cecile wanted to go and hide, so she wouldn't have to say so many goodbyes. In some ways it would be easier if they'd all trickle away over two or three days. This way it was almost a shock when everyone left at once.

  She was glad Tommy and CeCe were going home with Ben and Louisa. Stephen was doing his best, but those children needed more than a loving housekeeper. I wonder if Ben... No. Not yet. I'll see how this works out.

  Peter was checking the tires of the tent trailer and Kenna was settling Emma into her car seat. Inside the minivan, Owen was pretending not to look at CeCe, who was leaning against Ben's dusty Land Rover. They were good for each other. Not quite a summer romance, but more than just friends. Even if they never saw each other again, she knew that they'd stay close. Something they both needed right now.

  Eric closed the door of his monstrous SUV behind Jennifer and came around the back end. He hesitated, then climbed the steps and put his arms around her. "Gran, I'm sorry. Jennifer's just not...she's not used to..." He cleared his throat. "Take care."

  As he turned away, Evan came out of the house, carrying Hetty's luggage. Frank was right behind him, his heavy duffle in his good hand. When Evan stopped suddenly, Frank plowed into him, all but throwing him into Eric's arms.

  The brothers spran
g apart, wearing equally appalled expressions.

  "Eric, I--"

  "Evan, I--"

  They stared at each other for a small eternity. An uncanny silence surrounded them, as if the whole family was waiting to see what would happen.

  Eric stepped back. "Take care, Evan. God be with you." He turned quickly and all but ran down the steps. Before anyone could do more than stare, he was in the SUV. The roar of its big engine drowned any comments that might have been made.

  Cecile saw Eric's mouth move. All the children and Jennifer dutifully waved, but they didn't look like it was their idea. Then they were gone, a rooster-tail of dust marking their passage.

  "Hetty? Let's go." Frank sounded impatient.

  Hetty came out the door. She stopped to hug Cecile. "I wish you were my mother," she whispered.

  "I'd've been proud to have a daughter like you. Now you take care of yourself. And of that man, too. He's a keeper."

  "I wish." From her tone, Hetty had already given up on Frank.

  Well, no wonder, after what Jocelyn did. That woman is a danger to herself and others. If only Frank has the gumption to blame her, and not Hetty.

  Ben finished tying the box containing CeCe's bike on the top of his Land Rover. Cecile wasn't looking forward to the journey across Idaho in that big, boxy thing. I should feel guilty letting Louisa sit in back with the children, but I don't My bones are just too old for those back seats. A good thing she'd let Ward talk her into renting that big car for the trip over. At least this way he wouldn't have to leave her car parked at the Salt Lake City airport for God only knew how long.

  "Ready, Gran?"

  "As I'll ever be." She picked up her tote and went down the steps. How strange it felt not to be the last to leave. She paused. "Ward? Don't forget to turn off--"

  "The water heater, the ice maker, and the attic fan," everyone on the porch and in the driveway chorused.

  "Well, pooh to all of you," Cecile said with a sniff. "Next time I won't remind you, and see where you'll be then."

  "Helpless, hopeless and stuck with a big electric bill," Thea said with a smile. "Mother, are you sure you wouldn't rather ride with us? We wouldn't mind."