Something Molly Can't See

by Carol Maloney Scott

  I know he has no idea if his mama is my aunt, but he sure as hell knows if he’s been screwing around with Ashley, and I do not want to know about that right now.

  Plus, how petty would I seem if I go there?

  He leans forward and takes my hands. “I know, I was bein’ a jealous asshole. Ray has always pissed me off, ever since he came along and swooped you up when I hit puberty. Somehow I blamed him for taking you away before I could grow up enough to make my own move.”

  He smiles as he rubs my hand with his thumb, and I think about other places I would like that thumb.

  Where are my children when I need them? Now would be a good time to get interrupted. And Penny is some wing wiener—she’s out cold up against my leg!

  Now Tucker’s hand has moved to my leg and I feel my insides…and outsides…get all melty and warm. I guess it wouldn’t really matter if there was more cousin…

  He leans in all the way and wraps my mouth up in an all-consuming fire of…well, I’m not a romance writer, but it’s a soft, insistent kiss that makes me want to be Irish every day, all day.

  I am suddenly self-conscious of my skimpy nightwear—hey, maybe that was what drew him through the front door in the first place. He came over to scold me for whining to his mama, and once he saw me, he decided to use my continued interest to…

  What? To take advantage of me? Really, this is Tucker. This is the kiss and touch of a man in love, not a dirtbag trying to see what he can get.

  He pulls back and cradles my chin in his hand.

  My eyes cloud over as I remember the cousin thing (why is that so hard to focus on—we could be first cousins!) and also the fact that he could easily be sleeping with another woman, who may or may not care what he does on the side.

  “What’s wrong? Did you not want me to do that? It sure seemed like you did.”

  I pull back further and tears threaten to escape. My frustration on every level is brimming over like an unwatched pot of boiling water.

  “I did. But I don’t know, Tucker. I’m so confused.”

  “I get it. It’s Ray. I’m not mad. I understand. He’s your husband and he’s back. I’ve been rushin’ you.”

  I jump up as he bolts for the door.

  Shit, there is no way to make this right without telling him about ghosts and/or looking like a jealous fool.

  “Tucker, wait. It’s not the way you think. I filed for divorce—”

  At least that’s one true thing I can share.

  He pauses at the door and runs his hand through his thick dark hair. “That’s good, Molly. Really, if you’re ready, I’m glad for that. No matter what happens between us, I don’t think Ray is good for you. But I need to be more mindful of the fact that it’s not so simple endin’ a long marriage. I’ve never been married, or in love with anyone else…so I’m a little slow to get it.”

  That’s still not an accurate assessment. I am over Ray, but it is true I haven’t had time to process my emotions. What a mess this is!

  “Tucker, I’m sorry but—”

  He puts his finger on my lips to silence me and I resist the urge to take it in my mouth and…dear Lord, he does need to leave. My brain and my heart and my lady parts are having a war, and there are no winners.

  “Hey, it’s okay. I’m gonna go back to the party for a little bit. Your girls are sure havin’ a good time. And don’t worry, as much as I can’t stomach their dad, he’s keepin’ a close eye on them.”

  “That’s good to hear. Good night, Tucker.”

  He walks through the door and I feel like a fool for not reaching out and pulling him back in, but I must let my brain win a battle for once.

  He turns around as I begin to close the door and says, “Hey, I’m goin’ out of town for a couple of days. I’ll come by and say hello when I get back.”

  I smile and wave as I shut the door.

  My brain is about to pop from the restraint it’s showing tonight. Not only did I reject the man I’ve been missing for weeks, I didn’t ask where he was going. And if a certain snotty apartment manager was tagging along.

  All I can say is that Meemaw better graduate soon because my brain is definitely not the strongest soldier in this conflict.

  The heart, and especially the lady parts are fighting like a one-legged man in an ass kicking contest.

  I’m just afraid that no matter who wins, I will end up being the ass.

  ***

  “I can’t believe we’ve never done this, but befriending Ashley has changed my life. I felt so misunderstood before.”

  No, I am not out with Tucker, and he is not admitting to a relationship with Ashley, and no, we are not getting ready to have a threesome—get your mind out of the gutter!

  He is nowhere to be found and I am out with Olivia, of all people, and hoping that she may drink enough to tell me the scoop on her new bestie and the love of my life/possible cousin.

  Olivia normally isn’t a big drinker, at least not what I’ve seen. Since she moved to Pentagon Place a few years ago and took over the library, she’s mostly kept to herself. She’s normally judgmental and turns up her nose at us ‘country folk’ and her crush on Logan, Lia’s boyfriend, was so obvious I almost felt sorry for her.

  Almost is the key word because she was manipulative and nasty towards Lia when she saw Logan taking an interest in her.

  It’s not that Olivia isn’t attractive—she just dresses very frumpy for a woman in her late twenties, and she is offended by everything.

  Although, now that we are seated in Tonic, Logan’s upscale bar in town, on a Wednesday night, I am noticing some changes in Olivia.

  I’ve paused way too long to respond to her ‘misunderstood’ comment, so I hop on the Ashley reference instead.

  “Yeah, so you and Ashley have gotten close, huh?”

  “Yes, she’s been amazing for my self-esteem and I can be myself with her.”

  I’m not sure what ‘self’ she’s talking about because Ashley seems to think that I’m uptight. And compared to Olivia, I’m like a swinger at a hedonist resort.

  Olivia slurps down her drink, and signals to the server. “Another Sex on the Beach please.”

  See, the Olivia I know would not have ordered that drink just to avoid saying that name out loud.

  “Do you and Ashley have a lot of hobbies in common?”

  Like hitting on men who are clearly in love with someone else?

  She gets a dreamy look on her face and says, “No, not really. She’s taught me about yoga and meditation, as you know. But she’s really helped me see that I need to be open to love and receiving my abundance.”

  That sounds nice, I suppose, but I have no idea what it means. But I guess if it’s made her loosen up, it’s not a bad thing.

  “Well, that’s terrific. I’m happy for you. You should have asked Ashley to join us tonight. I think she and I got off on the wrong foot.”

  “Oh, she’s out of town. And hey, maybe you’re misunderstood, too. You should talk to her.”

  She is already hiccupping, and the server just brought her second drink. I am wondering if drinking too much is part of her self-improvement program.

  “Try holding your breath. It works for the girls.”

  And I want to say, ‘I know damn well Ashley is out of town, and so is Tucker.’

  “Okay, yeah that seems to be better. Thanks. So, what’s going on with the doll business?”

  We chat about Molly’s Dollies and other stuff I have no interest in right now, as I try to weave in more talk about Ashley.

  “Is Ashley out of town on a photo shoot? She’s so talented.”

  That part is not a lie!

  “Yes, I think she is. Something about a magazine article. She said it’s a secret.”

  She puts her fingers to her lips to show me the ‘shhh’ sign, as if I don’t know what a secret is.

  Also, I don’t know the secret so I’m not sure what I’m staying quiet about.

  “A secret, huh? Sounds myste
rious. Maybe she just went away with a man.”

  “No, she wouldn’t do that. I mean, she would be with a man—she’s gorgeous and all, but she wouldn’t lie to me.”

  “No, of course not—you’re such good friends.”

  And Ashley knows that Olivia could reveal her secret to anyone in Pentagon Place and then the world would know.

  Or at least all of Applebarrow.

  The thing I don’t get is why Ashley and Tucker would keep it a secret if they were together. Tucker isn’t a liar or a cheat, but maybe he is trying to move on and the other night at my apartment was a moment of weakness. And he did say he was going away.

  Olivia isn’t going to tell me anything. She either knows nothing or she’s protecting her buddy.

  Olivia drains the rest of her second drink and starts hiccupping again.

  I feel like I’m at the supper table when my kids were small, except it was milk instead of a fruity cocktail causing them to sound like they were blowing up with every word.

  “So, (hiccup), did you notice (hiccup) that Tucker was also (hiccup) out of town?”

  I hand her the glass of water she hasn’t touched and tell her to hold a big gulp in her mouth while I hold her ears. This is an advanced hiccup cure for when it’s a code blue.

  She hasn’t turned blue yet, so I continue with the treatment and say, “I did notice his truck was gone, but Ashley’s car is still in the parking lot. Weird, right?”

  I remove my hands and instruct Olivia to swallow.

  She widens her eyes and blows the air out of her mouth in a big exhale. Now she’s coughing a little. I wish I had a lollipop—that would be my next go-to in my mom bag of tricks.

  “Wow, I think that worked. Thanks.”

  She waves her hand for the check and says, “Molly, this was nice, but I really believed you wanted to go out with me so we could get to know each other better. And it seems like you just want info on Ashley and Tucker.”

  Huh, that was a lot of coherent words. Did Ashley help her learn that she has multiple personalities? Or was she just playing the ‘fun’ Olivia role earlier, and she can hold her alcohol just fine?

  “Well, I am a little curious, but if you don’t know anything that’s fine. It’s none of my business anymore. And you did just mention that Tucker was out of town, too.”

  She smiles and leaves some money on the table, getting up slowly off the high-top stool and gathering her things. “It’s not any of our business what others do, Molly. I’ve learned that the hard way. I think you should go home tonight and listen to a gratitude meditation, read a spiritual text, and chant for twenty minutes.”

  She waves and walks off in one big cloud of crazy.

  That sounded like what Ray told me the Catholic priests do after confession—but instead of ten Our Fathers and five Hail Marys, I got the hippy dippy version.

  I think I liked Olivia better when she was misunderstood.

  I stare down at the money Olivia left and decide I should ask for my check, too. Logan is here tonight, but I already said hello and there isn’t anybody else in here on a Wednesday night I want to talk to.

  I lift my head up to look for the server, and now there is a new occupant in Olivia’s spot.

  “That girl doesn’t know if she’s comin’ or goin’ or been there. Now, let’s get out of here so we can talk about ‘Operation Snoop’ at Jenny Swanson’s. I’m ready to go!”

  Meemaw hasn’t been this excited since…well, since she was alive for sure.

  I hold my tongue, so I am once again not seen talking to myself in public and call for my check.

  In the meantime, Meemaw entertains herself with throwing all the saltshakers off the nearby tables onto the floor.

  I put my head in my hands, as the server says, “Did I miss an earthquake tremor or somethin’?”

  Nope, just Typhoon Florence.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  “Molly, it’s so nice to see you. We live in such a small town and unless I make the effort, I don’t see people once they’ve moved off Hummingbird Lane.”

  Jenny Swanson is a trim woman with short blond hair. It is hard to believe she could be related to my mama, but I am, and I do not have Mama or Meemaw’s body type. Wait, maybe I’m adopted, too?

  Meemaw is rooting around in Jenny’s desk drawers right in plain sight—well, my plain sight—Jenny hasn’t started speaking in tongues or throwing herself on the ground, so I’m guessing Meemaw has mastered her haunting invisibility skill.

  Meemaw yells out, “Would you just keep that woman occupied and stop thinkin’ about nonsense. I know whose baby you are…I was there the day you came out of your Mama’s…oh, these are nice ink pens.”

  She holds Jenny’s writing implements up to the light, as if she’s trying to assess their worth. I’m glad ghosts can’t take things from this world because I surely don’t want to be accused of robbery on top of spying, meddling, and general interference in Tucker’s life.

  I correct myself—I am not here because Jenny is Tucker’s mother, and I want her help with him (although that’s my cover). I am here to see if I am related to her.

  Jenny offers me more of her green tea and fruit bars, and I can tell why she is so slim. She also has a treadmill in the corner of the living room, and I see some hand weights and a rolled-up yoga mat.

  “Thanks for seeing me today. I know it’s odd that I’d come visit you out of the blue. I’m sure you heard about what went on with me and Tucker, and I just want—”

  She waves her hand and says, “No, you don’t need to worry about that. I do know about it, but mostly because my youngest has loose lips, and I am sad that Tucker is so hot-headed that he couldn’t give you a chance. He truly doesn’t understand the Ray situation, but I do.”

  “You do?”

  Meemaw hollers from the kitchen, “Do not listen to that woman. Her husband was nothin’ like Ray.”

  Jenny smiles as I try to hide my wince. “My Stevie was just like Ray. A real charmer, but then he couldn’t be trusted. But it’s hard when it’s your first love and they run off. And even worse when they come back begging for forgiveness.”

  “Did that happen?” I don’t remember ever seeing Mr. Swanson after he hit the road.

  “Oh yes, he resurfaced—kind of like Ray. One day I was hangin’ wash outside and he came up behind me and I stabbed him with a clothespin. He had to wear an eyepatch for a while.” She laughs and almost spits her tea at the memory.

  “You stabbed him in the eye?”

  “Well I thought he was an intruder—like an escapee from the prison over in Glossup. I watch too many movies. Anyway, I kept it quiet in the neighborhood, and luckily for me, he stayed with his mama, in the trailer park, and I didn’t have him in my daily business, like you do now.”

  “Did the boys know he was back?”

  “They did, but they were young. That’s why you don’t remember. They were only about three and five when he came back, so you were only ten or so?”

  She’s right—at that age I would have had no idea what was going on with grownups. I was in my own little world of Barbie dolls and drawing pictures of unicorns and butterflies.

  “So, what happened?”

  I hear a crash and it sounds like it’s coming from the laundry room.

  Jenny has lived in this house all my life, and I remember the layout well. I had lots of visits to the laundry room to soak the stains out of the Swanson boys’ clothing when they decided to make mud pies or start a food fight.

  “Oh dear, what was that?”

  Meemaw yells out, “I’m okay, tell her it sounded like squirrels rattling the trash cans outside!”

  Coming here with Meemaw was the dumbest idea in the world.

  “I think it was outside. Mama says sometimes squirrels rattle her trash cans in this neighborhood.”

  Jenny wrinkles her brow skeptically. But I suppose she is more likely to buy that answer than if I told her an old lady ghost dropped all her laundry bins
off the dryer.

  And why in the world would Meemaw think adoption papers would be in the laundry room?

  She yells out, “I can hear you, missy, and you never know what people do with important papers. My daddy kept his bank statements in the toilet tank!”

  This is why life is hard for me—I come from a long line of crazies.

  Jenny folds her hands on her lap and says, “Okay, the noise stopped. I’ll check it out later. So, where were we? Oh yes, Stevie ended up leavin’ town again. I let him lose touch with the boys because honestly, I didn’t think he would be a good influence on them. My daddy ended up bein’ a fine stand-in for their father.”

  “Yes, I remember your parents. They were fine people. You look a little like your mama, if I recall correctly.”

  Lord, don’t strike me down. I’m here for answers, and this nice woman does not need to know that. It won’t hurt her to find out if she’s related to us.

  Actually, scratch that. It may not be the best thing, but I don’t know for sure, and she does know she was adopted, so it’s not like I’m letting some giant cat out of the bag. It’s like a bitty little tabby kitten, not a saber-toothed tiger.

  Meemaw comes trudging back into the living room. She looks exhausted, even though that makes no sense, seeing she’s dead.

  “I’m goin’ upstairs now. Just keep her talkin’ a little while longer. I’m gonna hit her underthings drawer and maybe bang on the floorboards for a hidden stash like in those drug cartel shows.”

  I sigh at her insanity and Jenny must think my exasperation is directed at her. I regain my smile and she says, “Oh my no, Molly, I don’t look like my mama. I don’t share this with many people, but I’m adopted.”

  “Wow, you don’t say?”

  Shit, I think my eyes got wider than they should have in response to that news. She just said she was adopted. I don’t have to pretend she just told me that she was abducted by Sasquatch.

  “Yes, my birth mama was a teen mother, and she was sent to a girls’ home in Maine to give birth. My adoptive parents went up there to fetch me because they heard about the home from the pastor at their church. I think it’s even possible my mother was a girl from this area.”