by Ann McMan
Maddie glanced at Phoebe, who was standing with George and Janet. “Really?”
“Really. And keep your fingers crossed, Cinderella. If everything pans out, it could end up being very good news for you.”
“For me? How?”
“All will be revealed soon enough. For now, let’s get this rabble rounded up and into the dining room. That yard bird Janet roasted ain’t getting any fresher—if you get my drift.”
“Janet cooked?” Maddie was intrigued. Normally, Michael was reticent about letting outsiders anywhere near his kitchen, much less consenting to let someone else cook in it. But then, Janet was more than usually persuasive.
“Oh, yeah. I made the mistake of walking through there earlier, and I thought the two of them were going to come to blows. I heard Michael say something about it not being necessary to kill the damn birds twice. Then I beat a hasty retreat.”
Maddie laughed. “At least I now know that Syd comes by it honestly.”
“What? Her ability to murder innocent food?”
“No, her ability to get her way.”
“Oh, puh-lease. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure that one out. All she has to do is shake that tight little bootie of hers at you, and she gets whatever she wants.” He stroked his chin. “I just wonder who gets tasked with mopping up the drool.”
“That is a ridiculous suggestion.”
“Oh really?”
“Yes. Really.”
“Are you seriously trying to say that Syd doesn’t get her way with you?”
“Of course not. I’m saying that I don’t drool.”
“Jesus.” He drained his wine glass with a flourish and set it down on the bar. “Grab your talent, and let’s go eat.”
MICHAEL AND JANET had apparently arrived at some acceptable division of labor, because the dinner they prepared was far from dry. The nine of them sat around a makeshift large table near the back of the restaurant and made short work of the roasted orange-herb game hens. Over thick wedges of key lime pie, Phoebe finally prepared to make the announcement David had promised. From her seat next to Syd, Maddie listened to her with open curiosity.
“I want to thank you all for letting me crash this family party,” she said, raising a glass. “And I know I’m not the first person to say that I look forward to the day—soon—when our little branch library can reopen and continue the fine work Syd has started here.”
Everyone raised their glasses amidst a chorus of well-wishing and drank a toast to Phoebe’s best wishes for Syd and the fledgling town library.
“My son, David, will tell you all that I’m a great believer in hedging my bets. And I think it’s always wise to have a backup plan.” Phoebe turned to Syd. “I turn sixty-five in three weeks, and I think it’s time for me to hang up my baton. I’ve already told the school board that I intend to retire at the end of this semester, and I’ve promised to do my best to help them locate a suitable replacement.” She looked at Syd. “Know anyone with the right credentials who might be interested in applying?”
Maddie looked back and forth between Phoebe and Syd with wide eyes. Phoebe had a sly smile on her face, and Syd looked shell-shocked.
By unspoken consent, Maddie and Syd had avoided talking about the direction their lives might take after Syd’s eighteen-month tenure in Jericho ended. In the aftermath of the fire, questions about Syd’s future grew more immediate, and more emotionally charged. It was like Poe’s “Tell-Tale Heart”—banging away beneath their bed like an ominous anthem of uncertainty.
Syd’s willingness to help Maddie foster Henry for the six weeks his grandmother would be in rehab offered Maddie some measure of comfort. She knew that Syd would never consent to participate in such an endeavor unless she intended to see it through. Likewise, it seemed to suggest a larger commitment on Syd’s part to stay on with Maddie at the farm, even if her apartment in town became habitable once again—an event which appeared increasingly unlikely.
Would Syd consider Phoebe’s offer? Maddie’s heart raced at the prospect. A nine-month teaching position in the county schools—one that allowed Syd to use her background in music education—would simplify everything.
Well. It would simplify everything for me, she thought, with a tinge of morose. But what would Syd think about it? What about her career track in library science? What about her plans for life after Jericho?
And what would become of me if she doesn’t want to consider it? Maddie closed her eyes. She was getting way too far ahead of herself. She took a deep breath and looked at Syd, who was twisting the gold pendant of her Heifetz necklace between her thumb and forefinger. She still hadn’t said anything.
George leaned across the table and prodded his daughter. “Well, sweetie? What do you think?”
Maddie held her breath. Syd looked at her, and their eyes met.
Syd smiled and turned to Phoebe. “I think that I need to find out if my North Carolina teaching certificate is valid in Virginia.”
Phoebe clapped her hands together. “No worries on that score. I already checked. If you want it, I can guarantee that the job is yours.”
Beneath the table, Syd took hold of Maddie’s hand. “Do I want it?” she asked in a near whisper.
Maddie felt like her heart was about to pound out of her chest. She laced their fingers together. “Oh, yeah,” she said, in a voice loud enough for everyone to hear. “You want it.”
AT HOME IN bed, Syd shifted closer to Maddie and tightened her arms. It was warm enough that they had left a window open, and she had been lying there listening to the ethereal night song of a Whip-poor-will. The first cry was far away, and she wasn’t certain she had heard it at all. But now, the elusive bird had drifted close enough that she could make out the knocking sound that punctuated its haunting calls.
“He’s getting nearer,” she said.
She felt Maddie nod. “They do that. Then they retreat again before daylight.”
“That’s kind of sad.”
“I think that’s why they’re so often linked to loss. Legend has it that they can catch a departing soul.”
“Then I’d better hold on extra tight.”
She could feel Maddie’s smile against the top of her head. “I’m not going anyplace.”
“Apparently, I’m not either.”
“Are you okay with that?”
Syd lifted her head and peered at her through the darkness. “Was there some part of what happened here a little while ago that left you unconvinced? Because I thought we covered all of those bases pretty well.”
“Oh, those bases were more than covered. In fact, one or two of them are downright sore.”
Syd kissed her on the chin. “Then why the worries?”
Maddie shrugged. “It’s not rational.”
Syd laughed. “When it comes to relationships—any relationships—tell me what is rational.”
“You’ve got a point there.”
Outside, the Whip-poor-will edged closer. Syd thought he might be perched on the porch railing below their open window.
“Are you afraid I’ll change my mind?” she asked.
“About what?” She thought Maddie sounded wary.
“About whether or not I should dye my hair green.” She slapped her on the arm. “What do you think I mean, goofball? Are you afraid I’ll change my mind about you—about us? About Henry?”
She could feel Maddie tensing up. “I guess. Maybe.”
“Maybe?”
Maddie shrugged again. “Yeah. I’m not proud of it. Don’t be pissed,” she added, quickly.
Syd sighed and sat up. “Why would I be pissed? Just because it’s clear that you still don’t trust me to know what I want?”
Maddie reached out to touch her arm. “Honey—”
Syd batted her hand away. “Oh, no. We’re clearing this up once and for all. I’m not gonna spend the next fifty years with you, having this same conversation every three days.” She crossed her arms. “So what’s it going to t
ake to get it through your gorgeous head that I’m not viewing you as some kind of human science project?” She shook her head. “I’m not some wide-eyed coed who’s getting off on how fun and illicit it might be to fumble around with my college roommate.”
“I know that.”
“You do? Then what on earth are you worried about?”
Maddie shook her head. “I wish I knew.”
Syd sat staring at her. “Oh, my god.”
“What?” Maddie sounded alarmed.
“This is it. This is what you do, isn’t it?”
Maddie stared back at her without speaking.
“In relationships. This is what you do. This is how you insulate yourself.”
“What do you mean?” Maddie’s voice was barely audible.
“This is how you protect yourself. This is how you push people away so they can’t hurt you. You make it about them, and not about you.” She raised a hand to her forehead. “I get it now. It’s not about your fear that I’ll leave you. It’s about your fear of committing to me.”
Maddie looked down at the sheets.
Syd laid a hand on Maddie’s forearm. “Look at me.”
Maddie raised her eyes. Syd wished she could see them more plainly. The darkness in the room continued to hide her expression. “I’m right, aren’t I? You’re afraid of this. You’re afraid you can’t make it work—that you can’t completely give yourself to it. And that’s what scares you.”
After a long moment, Maddie slowly shook her head. “No. That’s not it—at least, not completely.” She slid her hand across the expanse of bed that separated them, and tentatively rested it on Syd’s thigh. “I am scared. You’re right about that. But what scares me is not the prospect of committing myself to you. What scares me is the realization that I’ve already done it. I’m all in on this Syd—all the way. And I’ve never done that before. Never. And, yes, it scares the shit out of me.”
Syd let out the breath she had been holding and covered Maddie’s hand with her own. “I can’t promise that I’ll never hurt you.”
“I know that.”
“But I can promise that I’ll never hurt you intentionally.”
After a moment, Maddie turned her hand palm up beneath Syd’s and squeezed her fingers. “I believe you.”
“I hope you do, because if you don’t, you’re in for a bumpy ride. A long, bumpy ride.”
“Long?”
“Afraid so.”
Maddie inched closer to her on the bed. “What variety of long might you be describing?”
“Let’s see.” Syd took a moment to consider her response. “Ever read War and Peace?”
“Of course.” Maddie sounded offended.
“Well . . . longer than that, and with more battle scenes.”
Maddie laughed. “Oh, great.”
“I thought you’d be pleased.”
“Yeah. A frozen death march across Russia is exactly the metaphor I would have picked to characterize our future together. Thank you for that. I feel so much more encouraged, now.”
“Another crisis averted.” With a sigh, Syd pushed her onto her back and resumed her place, lying half on top of her. “Relax, Stretch. As I recall, the book ended with Natasha and Pierre, happy and safe in their bed, surrounded by their two-dozen adorable children.”
“Two dozen?”
“Well. Maybe it wasn’t two dozen.” Syd nuzzled the base of her neck. “But it was more than a couple.”
“True.” Maddie wrapped her arms around Syd. “God, I love you.”
“I know.” Syd could feel Maddie smile. “I love you, too.”
“Goodnight, Natasha.”
“Goodnight, Pierre.”
Below their window, the Whip-poor-will hopped down from his perch on the porch railing and began his slow trek away from the house—ahead of the declining night.
Epilogue
This winter was going to be one for the record books. Another gulf storm had rolled through two days ago, then made its way east to the Atlantic before hooking back around and combining with a massive low pressure system dropping down from the upper Midwest. These double-whammy winter storms were becoming more common, and locals were beginning to chafe under the constant barrage of snow and ice. For the last month, schools in the county had been closed more days than not, and parents were struggling with how to manage their kids and still hang on to their sanity. The Christmas holiday was only a few days away, and more than one family had given up on efforts to try and shop or visit with relatives.
It was clear that Santa was going to be traveling light this year.
Maddie trudged across the narrow walkway she had shoveled from the barn to the porch, carrying a five-gallon container full of gasoline—more than enough to power the big Honda motor through the night. The electricity had gone off two times already, and although county power crews had managed to restore it after just a few hours, the likelihood that it might go off again increased in direct proportion to the amount of snow and ice that continued to pile up on trees and power lines.
After stowing the gasoline near the generator behind the house, she walked back around to the front porch and stood looking out across the eerie expanse of white that stretched down toward the pond. The night sky looked dull, almost opaque. Reflected light cast an orange glow over fields and pastures covered in drifting snow. It was still coming down—larger, wetter flakes now. Not a good sign. Already, trees and shrubs were impossibly bent over under the weight of the heavy stuff. The quiet was deafening.
At least, it was.
From inside the house, she heard the arrhythmic sound of six notes being played over and over on the piano. She tilted her head toward the noise. It was familiar—sort of. Then she heard the same notes again. Played this time with authority. She smiled into the scarf tucked around her neck. It was DvoYák. The New World Symphony.
Celine was giving Henry a piano lesson. And from the way it sounded, he wasn’t faring much better than she had all those years ago when she was the one seated next to her mother on the bench.
Celine had flown in for the holidays. Maddie had managed to fight her way out to the interstate and drive down to Charlotte to pick her up. That had been nearly a week ago, and in that short time, Henry had bonded with Celine in ways that left Maddie dazed. Syd just laughed at her bewilderment over Celine’s uncharacteristically maternal behavior.
“She’s acting like a grandmother, Maddie,” Syd had said earlier in the evening. “It happens.”
Maddie shook her head in amazement. “I feel like I fell asleep six months ago, and woke up in some new space/time continuum.”
“Maybe you did.”
Maddie looked Syd up and down. “How come you’re handling all of this so seamlessly?”
Syd shrugged. She was peeling potatoes—lots of them. “We can’t both be freaking out.”
Maddie watched her for a moment. “What on earth are you making?”
“Mashed potatoes.”
“For what?”
“For us.”
“Us? You must have five pounds of potatoes peeled already.”
Syd rested her peeler against the side of the sink. “What’s your point?”
“Who on earth do you think is going to eat all of that?”
“Well, for starters, you and me. And I suppose Henry and Celine might join us.”
Maddie gestured toward the mound of peeled potatoes. “Sweetie, it looks like all the kids in your school orchestra could join us, too.”
Syd rolled her eyes and plucked another potato out of the nearly empty bag.
“I wanted to be sure we had leftovers. Henry likes them.”
Henry.
He had been living with them for nearly six months now. Ada suffered a second stroke during her rehab, and now was consigned to full-time nursing care. They took Henry down to see her twice a month, and were hopeful that she might be able to visit them at the farm in the early spring. Her recovery was slow, but she was making deter
mined progress.
Henry’s father still had another eight months of deployment to go, but he wrote letters to his son, and he called whenever he could. Maddie had spoken with James Lawrence on several occasions, and found him to be shy, but beyond grateful to her for her willingness to care for the son of a stranger. He was stationed in the southern province of Kandahar now, and Maddie worried about the increasing number of Taliban attacks in an area that was shaping up to be the center of the Afghan and NATO offensive. For Corporal Lawrence—and for the thousands of other soldiers like him—the prospect of spending another eight months in Afghanistan stretched out like several lifetimes.
Behind her, the big front door opened and closed. She turned her head and saw Syd walking toward her. She was carrying two steaming mugs.
“Here.” She held one mug out toward Maddie. “We made hot chocolate.” She smiled. “It was the only way Celine could bribe Henry to sit still for another lesson.”
Maddie took the mug and smiled at her. “Yeah? Well, he’ll figure that one out in a hurry. That’s the kind of bribe that only works once.” She took a sip. On the other hand, this was pretty intriguing hot chocolate. “What’s in this?”
“Courvoisier.”
Maddie laughed. “Do you want him to sleep until Tuesday?”
Syd glared at her. “I didn’t put cognac in his.”
“Oh. So you just want me to sleep until Tuesday?”
Syd thought about that. “I wouldn’t mind having you in bed until Tuesday. But trust me, there wouldn’t be much sleeping going on.”
Maddie wrapped an arm around her and pulled her closer. “Did I really say that this bribe would only work once? I don’t know what I was thinking.”
Syd pushed her scarf aside so she could nuzzle her neck. “Listen, Santa, we’ve gotta figure something out. We’re running out of time to shop.”
Maddie looked out at the falling snow. “I know. Mom and I were talking about that earlier.”
“And?”
“I guess a snow blower really wouldn’t be at the top of Henry’s list?”
“Not so much.”
