by Brenda Grate
“She did, and she didn’t. She loved us, even though Jilly doesn’t think so. She just didn’t know how to share herself, and two little girls who adore their mamma need more than a cold image of a mother to flourish.”
“Oh, Anna.” Mel reached out and grasped Anna’s hand, squeezing hard. “I’m sorry she was so cruel.”
“That’s the thing. She wasn’t really cruel, like in the Mommy Dearest way you hear about. Her cruelest act was to keep herself hidden, unavailable. She is the coldest woman I’ve ever met. There were a lot of things she did to herself that damaged us, too, but the hardest thing was that I couldn’t reach her and yet she gave herself so easily to others. If someone wanted something from her, she gave it freely. But, to Jilly and me, the ones who most had a claim on her, she held everything back.”
Mel’s eyes swam in a lake of green.
“I wonder if that’s why her paintings are so emotional,” Mel mused, the curator in her coming out. “She couldn’t show her emotions to the closest people in her life, so she put them on canvas.” Mel paused, the words sitting on her lips. Anna cut her off.
“Before you ask, no, I don’t know. I don’t know why she paints that little child’s face into each painting. Honestly, Mel, I’m not sure if she even knows why.”
Mel slumped back in her chair. It would be the coup of the century if Mel were the one to solve the mystery of the child in the painting. It had intrigued the art world for thirty years, but Catarina di Rossi would never speak of the child. There had been much speculation about her own children, but they instinctively knew it went deeper than that. It was the tiny child, hidden in each painting, in the grass, in a tree, one never knew where it would appear, that made her famous. Her landscapes were stunning, emotional, even angry at times, but it was the child that pulled the eye, made the viewer wonder. It was a mystery, and who didn’t love to solve a mystery?
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make it personal,” Mel said. “I want to hear your story, not ask questions you’re unable to answer.”
Anna patted her friend’s hand. “I understand. I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you the truth so long ago. But truth has a way of getting buried under layers of time. The longer you say nothing, the harder it is to dig it up and reveal it.”
Mel didn’t say anything. She just patted Anna’s hand and gave her such a look of compassion that tears sprang to Anna’s eyes. She swiped them away, embarrassed. She hated being emotional in public.
They left the table and walked outside.
“I’m going to leave Rob.”
Mel stopped dead and gaped, a perfect imitation of her earlier response. “Not fair, Anna. You’re not allowed to shock me twice in one conversation.”
“Sorry,” Anna mumbled. “I guess I felt if I didn’t just shoot it out, I wouldn’t say it at all.” She hitched her purse higher on her shoulder and glanced around to be sure they were alone.
“Why now?” Mel asked. “Not that I don’t agree that you should leave him, but why now? It’s been what, nearly ten years?”
“Nine years, ten months, twelve days.” Anna shuddered. It sounded like a prison term.
“Wow.” Mel rocked back on her heels and studied Anna like she was a stranger. “That’s interesting.”
“What?”
“It’s just interesting how you say it. My thought is that you should have left him a long time ago. Maybe you shouldn’t even have married him.”
“Maybe I should have married Chris like he wanted me to,” Anna mumbled.
“Chris?” Mel asked. “Do tell.”
Anna dropped her gaze as the door to the cafe opened and Carrie Stewart, the mayor’s wife, walked out.
“Hi Anna, hi Mel,” Carrie said.
“Hi Carrie,” Mel and Anna said together.
There was a pause, but Anna kept her head lowered. She didn’t want to see the speculative gleam in Carrie’s eyes. She felt it was her duty to know everyone’s business. For the sake of keeping things in order, of course. Anna watched Carrie’s suede pumps step out of her range of vision before she looked up. “Can we go for a walk?”
Mel took her arm and led her across Wallace Street to the city park. They stepped onto the path and Mel asked, “You need to tell me about this Chris. And what brought this on, your decision to tell me the truth?”
“Honestly?”
“Of course.”
“The red dress.”
Chapter 8
Anna stopped at the Blue Moose Café for her morning coffee and then walked down Wallace St. to her office at the Hope Standard. Several co-workers were gathered around Paul in the front office, whispering. Her heart sank and a cold sweat broke out across her back. The whole town would be talking about the gala for a long time to come. At least it wouldn’t be in the newspaper. Cliff would never allow that.
Paul turned with a guilty smile. “Hey, good morning, Anna.”
“Morning Paul, Carla, Monica,” Anna said and lifted her coffee cup in a half-hearted greeting. Whenever she was around those two women, she could feel her energy run out and puddle on the floor around her. They spent more time gossiping and causing problems than they did actually working. They were probably the cause of half of the domestic issues in town.
When Anna reached her cubicle, she dropped her purse, set the coffee on the desk and reached for the power button on her iMac. She had to finish editing the story due that morning before the weekly meeting where Cliff handed out the assignments. Anna sat in her chair and leaned back. The new woman who usually sat across from her hadn’t come in yet. Until the gossip twins came in from the front, she’d have the office to herself. She hoped the quiet would help her concentrate.
Jilly came to her mind again, especially the comment about how they were screwed up. Yes, they were raised by a screwed-up mother, but did that mean they had to have problems too? Couldn’t one grow up and get past them? Anna’s neck muscles tensed and a low-grade pounding started in the base of her skull. It reminded her of the headaches she’d endured nearly every day as a child. Jilly might want to delve into things, but it was rarely a good idea.
Anna grabbed her inbox and pulled the papers out. She aligned them and slipped them back in place. She pulled open the drawer to see that all the pencils and pens were arranged according to size and color. She closed it carefully so as not to disturb them.
Anna realized a big part of her being “screwed up” came from being unhappy. Her life and job didn’t fulfill her. She’d loved Rob a long time ago, but that time had well passed. She could finally admit to herself what she’d thought about on the long walk back home after the gala. She wanted out. She wanted to divorce Rob. It wouldn’t be easy. Rob’s mother would declare war on her, but Anna no longer cared. If I leave Rob, will all the worry and stress go away? Will I be normal again? It would be wonderful if that were true, but Anna couldn’t lie to herself. It might start with Rob at this moment, but really it had started with Mamma, and it would end with her.
Anna pulled her Post-It notes from the monitor and arranged them in perfect alignment and spacing around the screen.
Why can’t I just find the kind of life I dreamed about when I left Toronto? Anna must have asked herself that question a thousand times. She had come to Hope for what the name implied and didn’t find it. Jilly had come too, but she’d found it instead. Her husband and little boy were perfect. She grabbed the cloth and cleaning solution from under her desk and scrubbed the surface, her mind racing.
“Anna?” She looked up to see Paul giving her a strange look. “Everything okay?”
“Yes, why?” Anna put the cloth and cleaner away and frowned at him.
“Because you were … nothing. It doesn’t matter. Are you ready for the meeting?”
“Pretty much. I just have to finish up my story,” she replied.
“The one Cliff assigned last week?” Paul arched an eyebrow.
The coffee lurched in her stomach and Anna bolted with a hurried, “Excuse me, I
don’t feel well.”
She made it to the toilet just in time. Of course the gossip twins were standing at the sink and they listened to her retch. The humiliation was almost too much. They probably wondered if Anna had gotten pregnant at last. With that thought, the rest of the contents in her stomach come up in a rush. All of this thinking about the past is doing my nerves no good.
Anna wiped her mouth on some toilet paper and sat on the toilet lid to wait, hoping they’d leave her in peace. After listening to them whisper for a while, she gave up and left the stall. Their eyes were like matching laser beams.
“Are you okay?”
“I don’t want to talk about it, okay?” Anna’s voice came out curt, but she didn’t care. The blood pounded in her face, and not all of it came from embarrassment. The bitches!
She didn’t see Paul anywhere when she got back to her desk. She hoped he would stay hidden for a while. Anna moved the mouse to deactivate the screen saver, a slideshow of Italian photos. She’d dreamed of going one day and maybe even meeting her grandfather. Her heart tightened at the thought that she’d missed her chance. He’d probably passed away by now.
Anna opened the story document, the one she’d been trying not to write for a week. It was almost done; she’d made a Herculean effort the night before knowing that Cliff would be upset if she came to the meeting without it. Still she couldn’t finish it and knew why. It was about a family in town that had been charged with physically abusing their young son. The boy, only six, now lived in foster care. The parents would have their day in court and Anna hoped they got ten years. Some people don’t know how lucky they are. Anna interviewed the foster mother to try to understand how the boy was dealing with everything. It was a human interest piece, and, of course, all parties would remain nameless. But, Anna knew, everyone in town was aware of the family and what had happened.
The interview had taken place in the foster mother’s living room. She’d told Anna, “He’s angry with me. He says it’s my fault he got taken from his parents. He won’t let Carl or me near him.” She stared into the corner of the room, seeing images Anna could only guess at. “He cries for them all the time.”
“I don’t understand that,” Anna said. “Why would he want to be with abusive parents? Can you tell me his story, what happened to him?”
“Oh honey,” she patted Anna’s knee and gave her a warm but slightly condescending glance that said, “You’re so young, aren’t you?” She settled back on the sofa and balanced her coffee cup on her knee. “Carl ’n me’ve been foster parents for going on fifteen years.” She shook her greying head. “And we’ve seen some things, let me tell you. One thing I’ve seen in pret’ near every kid is it doesn’t matter the shit their parents did to them, they still want to live at home. I don’t think …” she stared up at the ceiling and dipped her finger into the hot coffee, stirring a little then sucking her finger. “Nope. There was one. But she was older, fifteen, I think, and her father used her—” She broke off and stared at Anna like she’d just remembered Anna sat there listening. “Anyway, like I said, it’s pretty normal.”
Baffled, Anna could only ask her next question. “How old is he?”
“The poor thing is only six. His mama is a stay-home and his father a lawyer. Don’t that beat all? A respectable family, even church-goers, although I never bought into church making people act better than their neighbors. It’s usually just a way to hush stuff up.”
“Yes, you’re probably right.”
The woman went on, dipping her finger in her coffee again, seeming not even to notice the temperature. “Anyway, nobody knew what was happenin’ in that house. The neighbors are shocked.”
“I can imagine.” Anna moved around, trying to find a comfortable spot on the sofa. It was a horrible story and she didn’t want to hear any more. She wanted to leave, but the woman, happy with her audience of one, was determined to tell her story.
“The worker told me it happened just once in a while. She would get angry and snap, but later she’d feel sorry and buy him things to make up for what she’d done, like that would heal the poor baby’s bruises.”
“So the mother was the one hurting him?” Anna asked, her hands like ice despite being wrapped around the hot mug.
“No. They found out both of them did.”
“The poor boy!”
“Mm-hmm. They both hurt him. They found bruises on his arms, you know, like someone grabbed both arms tight to yell at him. There were bruises on his legs and they even found an old break that had healed.”
“Well, that’s not that unusual for a boy.”
“But there was never any hospital visit on record. It never healed right.”
“Oh.”
“And with all that, he still loves his parents. He keeps begging to go home to them.” She put the coffee on the side table and wrapped her arms around herself. She probably wasn’t even aware of acting out her feelings for the little boy. “I try all I can to comfort him and explain that his parents did wrong to him, but he just cries and begs me to take him back to them.” She looked at Anna, her dark eyes brimming with both tears and anger.
Anna shook her head. “I’m so sorry.”
“Me too, honey, me too.”
The office began to fill up, nearly every cubicle occupied. Anna tried not to catch anyone’s eye so they wouldn’t talk to her. She was having a hard time summoning up any human warmth today.
Cliff called the meeting and she still hadn’t finished the story. She printed it out anyway and brought it to the board room. At least she’d have something to show. Anna thought she could explain why she couldn’t finish it and maybe it would be her lucky day and Cliff wouldn’t be furious.
The staff gathered around the table, talking among themselves about the weekend. The new girl hadn’t appeared and Anna wondered if Cliff would fire her. He didn’t have a lot of grace, especially for newcomers.
“I was raised in the school of hard knocks. It’s the only way to make it in the newspaper business. It’s cutthroat,” he must have said a hundred times. Anna always had to stifle a giggle. He sounded like a hard-bitten New York mogul, but he was really just a go-nowhere editor of a go-nowhere small town weekly. All the same, Anna loved him.
“Everyone, come to order,” Cliff demanded, leaning over them, his big fists clenched and planted on the table. His nose looked darker red than normal and the two tufts of hair that stood out on either side of his head seemed to bristle more than usual. Anna nearly groaned aloud. It would be a rough meeting. She loved Cliff, but some mornings he made it hard.
“What’s on the docket for today? Anyone find any news out there?”
Paul raised his hand like a good little schoolboy. “A fire broke out on Maple Street last night. I’m going to interview the fire chief and see if I can find out what caused it.” He sat back with a proud smile in Anna’s direction. She clenched her hands under the table and tried to keep her face impassive. He could be such a brown-noser.
Anna zoned out and thought about Jilly. What if she doesn’t ever want to talk to me again? Anna knew she was probably exaggerating things out of fear, but she’d lately seen a side of Jilly that wasn’t familiar to her. She hoped they’d be able to mend their relationship and go back to the way things were. Is that what I really want? Or do I want things to change, too?
“Anna? You awake?”
Her head snapped up and everyone around the table stared at her. “Sorry, what did you say?”
“I asked if you had your story ready for me?” Cliff seemed to be trying to give her a message, but Anna didn’t understand.
“I’m sorry, I tried, but I’m not getting the ending. I’ve got most of it written, but—”
Paul broke in. “Maybe I can take a look at it, see if there’s an angle you’re missing because you’re too close to it.”
Anna clenched her fists again. “Thanks, I’ll …”
“Bring it to my office after the meeting.” Cliff moved on to ano
ther topic and Anna’s heart sank. Obviously the others heard the tone because they sent sympathy glances her way, which also said, “Thank God it’s not me!”
The rest of the meeting flew by. Anna tried to pay attention, but she kept losing her train of thought, like she’d suddenly become ADD. She couldn’t keep her thoughts in a straight line or even concentrate on one thing for more than a few seconds. It was starting to freak her out.
The meeting ended with a sigh of relief from Anna. Cliff motioned to her as he left the board room and Anna knew he meant business. Crap!
“Shut the door,” Cliff said as she entered his office.
He said nothing more until she sat in the chair in front of his desk. He looked her over and now that the rest of the staff couldn’t see him, he let his face soften. That look, as far as Anna knew, he only gave to her.
