Home Before Dark

by Susan Wiggs

  She gave a soft cry of agonized pleasure, and afterward drifted, listening to his heartbeat with her ear against his bare chest, enjoying the way he toyed with her hair. Finally, when it was so late in the night that no one else could possibly be awake, he asked, “What are you thinking, Luz?”

  “We might never have Paris, but we’ll always have each other. How corny is that?”

  “Just don’t rule out Paris entirely.”

  She propped her chin on his chest so she could look at him. “I love you,” she whispered.

  He settled on top and clasped her hands in his, pinioning her as he slid inside again. “I love you, too, Luz. I always have.”

  CHAPTER 36

  On Saturday morning, Jessie awakened to thoughts of her sister. They had all connived to send Luz away with Ian. Oh, how she prayed it would help. She still felt guilty about the havoc her disclosure had wreaked on their marriage. They loved each other, but they had some serious mending to do. She hoped the stolen evening in San Antonio had been a success.

  She went to the main house and was amazed to smell the aroma of baking cookies. “Wait a minute,” she said. “Am I in the wrong house? It smells like Luz never left.”

  “I made a batch of cookies,” said Lila. “Want one?”

  Jessie sensed her niece was still wary, but at least willing to listen. She took a bite of the warm chocolate chip cookie and made a blissful expression, ignoring Flambeau’s frantic sniffing. “You are a domestic goddess in training. I didn’t know you were such a good baker.”

  “Baking cookies is a cinch.”

  Jessie went to the fridge for milk, frowning when she didn’t find the jug in the usual door slot. “Where’s the milk?” she asked.

  “I moved it down a shelf.”

  Jessie gritted her teeth, but forced herself to make a joke of it. “When you move something even a few inches, it might as well be in Chicago.”

  “Sorry.”

  “Where is everyone?” Jessie asked.

  “The boys are over with Miss Glenny and Grandpa Stu. I think Grandpa Stu promised to take them fishing off the dock.”

  Jessie sneaked another warm cookie from the cooling rack, then made her way to a stool at the kitchen island and sat down. “So what’s the occasion?”

  Lila hesitated. “There’s a thing this afternoon.”

  “What kind of thing?”

  “Just this memorial thing.”

  “For Dig Bridger,” Jessie guessed. She felt a waft of heat as Lila opened the oven and took out more cookies.

  “That’s right.”

  “So what sort of memorial is this?”

  “There was a fundraiser to build a new sandbox for the city park, and it’s going to be dedicated to Dig. Weird, huh?”

  “Why is that weird?” She paused, sensing Lila’s discomfort. “I can’t hear you shrugging.”

  “It’s a sandbox, of all things. I don’t know what I was thinking when I— Well, a sandbox seems weird to, you know, honor a kid who…died.”

  Jessie got it then. A deep silence filled the room. “Come sit with me, love.”

  Lila banged the oven shut. They went together to the family room and plunked down on the couch. “I don’t know what I was thinking. But my first memory of Dig is when we were really little, playing in a sandbox. That’s how he got his name. He loved to dig and dig and dig.” Lila’s voice cracked with a sob. “Oh, God,” she said. “I still dream about it every night. It’s like Heath Walker’s mother said. The accident was my fault.”

  “Lila, no—”

  “Yes. There was a moment when I could have told Heath to stop. I knew he was pushing it, but I wanted more and more. I wanted to fly and I didn’t care about the landing and I didn’t care about the other people in the car, not even my best friend and I know she was scared. I told him to keep going anyway.”

  Jessie heard echoes of her own carelessness in the confession. “Oh, Lila,” Jessie said through tears she could feel on her cheeks. “Hug me hard.” As she stroked the girl’s hair, she pictured herself, screaming alone through her empty life, hurtling at breakneck speed toward the next shallow thrill.

  “You have to stop thinking it’s all your fault,” she said. “You have to stop regretting the things in the past that you can’t change. Every kid in the car that night played a part. Something bad happened, something you’ll remember all your life, but you’ve got to quit blaming yourself.”

  “Everybody else found Jesus,” Lila wailed. “They’ve all been forgiven. I tried that, I really did, but it felt so phony—”

  “Because maybe for you, it is. Ah, Lila. Trust me when I say this. You’ll find more grace and redemption in baking cookies and building a sandbox than you’d get from holding hands and singing songs with those kids.”

  She sniffled and burrowed closer to Jessie. “How do you know?”

  “I know. I’m absolutely right and I will not let you move a muscle until you admit it.” Jessie stroked her hair some more, putting together the things Lila hadn’t told her about the memorial. “You did this, didn’t you?”

  “Did what?” Lila pulled back and settled against the arm of the couch.

  Jessie grinned with pride. “Don’t be modest. You know what I mean. You organized this whole thing—the fundraiser, the ceremony, the sandbox. And you’re going to serve these cookies which, by the way, are so good they are probably illegal in most states. My Lord, Lila. You’re as good a cook as your mother.”

  The word hovered in the air between them.

  “How could you do it?” Lila asked her baldly. “How could you give me away?”

  Jessie took a deep breath and said, “She is the best person I know, Lila. She always has been. When I gave you to her, I gave you a place to grow roots and a family to nurture you. Hell, I know they drive you crazy, but you wouldn’t trade them for the world.”

  “Do you ever wonder what it would have been like, if you had kept me?”

  Jessie nodded. “Every day. For me, it would have been wonderful, bringing you along wherever the job took me. But even as young as I was, I knew that was no life for a child.”

  She gestured at the big room which she knew was cluttered with the flotsam and jetsam of a busy family—toys, books, dishes, shoes, mail…life. “This is what I wanted for you, Lila. I know it doesn’t always makes sense now, but—”

  “Lila?” Scottie came in, the screen door smacking shut behind him.

  “Hey, sport,” Lila said. Jessie knew she was dashing away tears, putting on a cheerful mask for her little brother. Just like Luz would do.

  “Hi, Aunt Jessie. Hi, Flambeau.” Scottie clambered up onto the sofa. “Grandpa Stu says I need my life jacket if I’m going to fish with him off the dock.”

  “I’ll get it.” Lila dug around in the mudroom adjacent to the kitchen.

  “Can you put it on me?” Scottie asked. “You’re the only one who does it right.”

  “You bet. Here, have a cookie while I fix this buckle.”

  “These are good,” said Scottie. “As good as Mom’s. Aunt Jessie, guess what? Lila let me sleep with her last night, right in the purple bed with her.”

  Jessie grinned as she listened to the two of them together. She knew it was the first time Luz had spent the night away from Scottie. It didn’t surprise her a bit that he’d turned to Lila. “Too cool. I never got to sleep in the purple bed.”

  “I think you’re all set, sport.”

  “Okay. Lila?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I like your face.”

  “Aw, Scottie. I like your face, too.”

  After he left, Jessie was still smiling, though she felt a bittersweet ache in her heart. This was life at its finest, and she’d never allowed herself to truly taste it. She could picture Lila and Scottie together and vowed never to let their image slip away, no matter how much time passed. She felt Lila looking at her and said, “I rest my case.”

  “Whatever.” A smile softened her voice.
>
  “Lila? I want you to know that I’ve always loved you, every minute of your life. Do you know that?”

  “I…guess.”

  Jessie heard a world of uncertainty and terror in her tone. “It’s okay. People who love each other still need to grow and change, and by now you know it sometimes hurts to grow, and the pain isn’t always such a bad thing. It reminds us of how important some things are.” She clasped her hands behind her head. “So how did I do?”

  She heard a decisive snap as Lila put the cookies in Tupper-ware boxes. “Look out, Dr. Phil.”

  Laughter and the creak of fishing reels sounded in the distance. “Let me get the camera,” said Lila. They went out on the porch. Early spring sunshine warmed the morning air. Jessie caught the scent of roses and knew it was from Luz’s ancient rosebush.

  “Aunt Jessie, can I ask you something?”

  “Sure.”

  “What can you see? I mean, you turn and face things as though you can see them. Are you still able to see sometimes?”

  “Everything that you consider vision is gone, love. I don’t live in darkness. It’s more like a veil of white smoke or fog.”

  “You must miss it a lot.”

  “I’d be lying if I said I didn’t. But I don’t lie around all day, raging against my lost sight. I promise, I don’t. You have to swear you’ll never feel sorry for me, and never let anyone else pity me, either.”

  “Okay.” Lila paused awkwardly. “I’ve been meaning to try this telephoto lens. Can you show me how to switch it?”

  “You bet. Good choice. It lets you compress your perspective.” Jessie had switched lenses in the dark so often, she didn’t need to see as she showed Lila what to do.

  Eagerly Lila took some shots of the boys fishing.

  “Take a picture of your mom’s rosebush,” Jessie suggested.

  “How did you know it’s blooming?”

  Jessie grinned. “Magic.” Then she switched lenses again, choosing the 100 mm portrait lens. That was Luz’s favorite lens style. Jessie wondered if Lila knew that.

  “Aunt Jessie?”

  “Yeah, love?”

  “What are you going to do?”

  Jessie should have been prepared for the blunt question, but of course she wasn’t. “Well. I suppose I need to figure out a life for myself. I know I’ll be a writer. I like it, and it would make me a member of an elite group—John Milton, James Joyce, James Thurber.”

  “Who are they?”

  “Blind writers. Jeez, what do they teach you in school these days?” Jessie paused. “I can’t hear you shrugging your shoulders, but I know you’re doing it.”

  “Why can’t you stay in Edenville?”

  “I don’t know how to stay in one place. I’ve never done it before.”

  “But you are so amazing. You went blind and you totally figured out how to do stuff. How can anything be harder than that? I know you love us, Aunt Jessie. I know you love Dusty and Amber.”

  The challenge lay before her, and for the first time, Jessie felt a glimmer of possibility. It was remarkable, she thought, to realize how expressive the human voice could be. She could hear the emotion in Lila’s voice, the worry…and the hope.

  The click of a shutter broke the silence. “I took your picture,” Lila said. “It’ll be a beauty.”

  And it would, Jessie acknowledged. She knew she was smiling.

  CHAPTER 37

  Jessie awakened from a rare nap, feeling muzzy-headed. Maybe she was coming down with something. She didn’t recall inviting Arnufo to stop by that afternoon, but perhaps she had. She recognized the sound of the pickup truck shuddering to a halt in front of her cabin, the rusty creak of its door opening. Flambeau emitted a soft whine of curiosity and bumped her tail on the floor. Jessie gave her computer the verbal command to go to sleep and went outside to greet him.

  “Hey, compadre,” she said. “You brought a friend with you,” she observed, hearing Amber’s slow shuffle. She was probably clasping Arnufo’s finger as she climbed the two steps to the cabin.

  “She is good company,” he said.

  Amber made a happy little burst of sound, clung briefly to Jessie’s leg, then waddled over to Flambeau.

  “How was your trip to San Antonio?” Jessie asked.

  “Beautiful. I am so proud of my little granddaughter. And your sister, she took many wonderful pictures.”

  Jessie smiled. If everything went according to plan, Luz had awakened this morning in a fabulous hotel room with her husband and they’d return later this afternoon in a better state. She wasn’t naive enough to think a romantic getaway would cure all ills, but the time alone together would surely give them a chance to talk about things that got shunted aside in everyday life.

  “Would you like something to drink?” Jessie offered.

  “No, thank you. As a matter of fact, I just remembered something. Watch la pequeña for me for a moment.”

  “But I—”

  “I will not be long.” Giving her no further chance to protest, he left, his boots crunching on the gravel drive.

  His swift departure threw Jessie into a panic. She rushed to the door, stubbing her foot on the rubber mat. “Arnufo, what’s going on?” she yelled.

  No reply.

  “Pah!” Amber toddled toward the door, pushing at it.

  Jessie thought of the steps, and the woods and the lake, and firmly latched the door. “He’ll be back soon,” she explained. “We can kill him then.”

  Amber made a motor sound with her mouth, a steady burrr that reminded Jessie of a swarm of angry bees. The baby was headed for the table by the window. Jessie’s mind raced. Her computer was there. Before dozing off she’d been dealing with e-mail using her voice recognition system. Cords spilled over the edge of the table to the wall.

  What else? she thought, hastily making her way across the room. A hot cup of coffee—

  “Amber, no,” she said loudly, imagining the child drenched by the burning liquid.

  “No!” Amber echoed, her high-pitched voice sharp.

  Jessie located her by the table and snatched her up. At first the baby made no sound, then she arched her spine and pushed against Jessie’s chest as she gathered air in her lungs. Finally, she exploded with an indignant wail.

  “Oh, baby,” Jessie said. “Don’t do this. I was afraid you’d hurt yourself.”

  Amber bucked in her arms, still wailing. The tantrum crescendoed into a fury of windmilling arms and force-five screams.

  “I can’t believe this.” Jessie lugged the hysterical child toward the door. “What was he thinking, leaving you alone with me? Arnufo, damn it,” she hollered out the door.

  “Damn it,” Amber yelled.

  Only the distant baying of Beaver reached her, and then that was drowned by an earsplitting shriek from Amber.

  “Flambeau,” Jessie said. “Flambeau, harness.”

  The dog reported for duty, standing by the hook where her work harness hung. Jessie set Amber on the sofa, and the child immediately raged in protest, dropping to the floor with a thud and thrashing across the room. Jessie was torn—she needed two hands in order to harness the dog, but Amber didn’t seem willing to wait for that. Jessie turned away from Flambeau and hastened to pick the baby up again.

  “Okay, okay, I won’t abandon you.” Scooping up the sobbing child, she hurried into the kitchen. “Are you hungry? Here, I’ve got a banana and let’s see…I have some cookies that will make you sing an aria. Lila made them. No? Maybe a cup of milk.” With the baby propped on her hip, she opened and reached inside the fridge. “How about a piece of cheese?” she asked. “Yogurt? I know, a pickle!”

  All her suggestions were greeted with more hollering. Jessie was horrified. She felt trapped, panicked, completely unprepared. Being set adrift with Amber was like exile to an alien planet, a place where she felt everything whether she liked it or not. What had happened to her life? Her travels and her independence, her ability to brush past people and keep them fr
om touching her? What was this precious mess she now held in her arms? What on earth was she supposed to do with it?

  “Come on, Amber,” she said, pacing back and forth. “Snap out of it.”

  The child cried on, her voice growing ragged around the edges.

  “Look, here’s Flambeau.” Jessie knelt beside the hapless dog.

  “No!” yelled Amber, and the dog flinched.

  Contrite, Jessie stood and paced some more, her ears beginning to ring. She brushed past a plastic bag she’d left on a shelf, and paused. “What’s this?” she asked, and for a few seconds, curiosity about the crinkly plastic bag silenced the baby. Jessie reached in and pulled out a small, thick book, shrink-wrapped into a box. “This is for you, Amber. I never had a chance to give it to you. Let’s read it.”

  The baby kept crying, but with less vigor. Her desperate, tremulous breaths tore at Jessie’s heart. The little tyke was either wearing herself out or the book actually interested her.

  “Lila was with me when I bought this. I sent her a copy, too, a long time ago.” She wondered if Lila had ever exploded like this, if Luz had ever felt this helpless.

  She brought the baby to the sofa and gathered her into her lap. Amber cried out, clawing at the cellophane-covered book with damp fingers. Jessie opened it quickly and held the book in front of Amber.

  “Let’s read it.” Dear Lord, read it? Her hand shook as she opened the book, and she strained to remember the story. It wasn’t much, as she recalled. Something about two kids…Paul and Mary? Paul and Julie, maybe.

  The angry buzz started as a low vibration in Amber’s chest, and Jessie decided not to waste any more time. “Look, Paul and Julie can pat the bunny,” she said, rubbing Amber’s hand over the furry patch on the page. “Can you pat the bunny?”

  “Pat, pat,” said Amber, snuffling.

  “Want to turn the page?”

  Amber flipped it expertly, revealing a small flutter of flannel. Something about a blanket? No, this was the peekaboo page. “Paul and Julie play peekaboo,” Jessie said. Amber’s tiny fingers plucked at the flannel. And then, miracle of miracles, a chortle of delight erupted from her. Methodically they went through the book, stopping to examine each little surprise— Daddy’s scratchy face, the sweet-smelling flowers, the shiny mirror.