Bloodline

by Jess Lourey

  My shoulders slump. “I’m scared.”

  Grover’s face has been drooping, but it tightens up. I see the sheriff he must have been: commanding, smart. “It’s that damn town,” he says. “Is there anyone there you can trust?”

  I think of Regina, and how she may have told Ronald that I’d spotted my mugger. I don’t tell him about her because I can’t even trust him. Lilydale has separated me from the herd and is coming in for the kill.

  He reads my face. His own grows grim.

  “Get out of that town,” he says. “Get out of there now.”

  CHAPTER 51

  I am going mad.

  Really and truly, I am leaping out of my mind. I sense it as I drive home, grow certain of it as I return the Coronet keys to a furious Dennis, sink into it as I walk up my driveway and enter my house.

  There is nowhere else to go.

  Slow Henry bounces off the sofa, twines around my leg, purring.

  His touch pulls me back to myself, just like it did after I was mugged.

  I cradle the phone in my neck and dial Ursula’s number. Her Ansafone picks up. I glance at my watch. She must be at work. When the machine prompts me to leave a message, I let it all out. To hell with her thinking I’m insane. I have to tell her.

  “Ursula, it’s Joan. I know you think I’m mad, but you need to listen. This is real. I must get out of Lilydale. Deck’s one of them. That’s not even the worst. I think they killed Paulie Aandeg. I think the men who run the town take advantage of the women and expect them to keep quiet, even when the women get pregnant. And now, they’ve stolen another child. Do you hear that Ursula? They steal kids!”

  I am yelling so loud I almost don’t hear the click.

  But I do. My flesh melts into my bones, and I groan.

  “Ursula,” I croak, not caring that I sound insane, “I’m going to wait for you to call me and tell me what to do. But I need to know it’s you. When you call, tell me you know who Amelia Earhart is. Tell me you know who she is on Halloween.”

  I take a Valium and I crawl into bed.

  Someone is hammering a nail into the door.

  Pound.

  Pound.

  Pound.

  It’s a very long nail. Or many nails. I don’t care. I just want it to stop so I can sleep. I feel a stirring next to me. Deck. He’s in bed. It’s another night that I didn’t know when he came home.

  And it’s not a hammer pounding.

  It’s somebody knocking at our front door.

  I shoot out of bed so fast that I get dizzy. Ursula! She’s come to save me. Maybe she’s brought the police! I’m halfway down the stairs before I realize how unlikely this is. But I keep going.

  I yank open the door.

  Clan is standing on the other side. He has pulled on trousers but is still wearing his pajama top. His hair is disheveled. He’s barefoot. It must be near dawn because I can see his face clearly in the outdoor murk.

  “Get Deck. It’s an emergency meeting of the Fathers and Mothers.”

  My blood slices at my veins. “What is it?”

  “There’s been a shooting,” Clan says. “Don’t worry. We’ll keep everyone safe.”

  Hands shaking, I call Ursula again, after Deck and Clan have left. Clan refused to tell me who shot whom, but whatever has happened tonight has gathered all the Fathers in one place. I will never be safer in Lilydale than I am right now.

  She picks up on the second ring, voice groggy. “Joan?”

  Relief floods my body. She’s been waiting for my call. “You got my message?”

  “I . . . yes. Where are you right now, Joanie?”

  “At home. I mean, in Lilydale. Can I stay with you? I might be bringing danger with me. It’s bad, Ursula, really—”

  “Goddamn it, Joanie, stop that right now.” She’s angrier than I’ve ever heard her. “There’s no conspiracy! No one is trying to steal your baby. Nobody is watching you. You need help, Joanie. Deck and I are very worried about you.”

  “You called Deck?” I slide to the floor, my voice etching the air.

  “Don’t be mad,” she says firmly. “You’re going bananas, Joanie. I was worried after that first call, but then Deck called me last night. After you left that cuckoo message. He told me all the insane ideas you’ve been having. He’s worried about you, Joan. He’s a good husband.”

  I swallow the sharp rock in my mouth. “A good husband.”

  “Yes.” Her chuckle is dry. “I can’t believe you didn’t even tell me the two of you eloped. If nothing else proved you were going crazy, that would have done it.”

  And that’s when I realize, finally, how powerful they are.

  They have made sure I have no one to turn to.

  “You’re right, Ursula. Thank you for your concern.”

  I drop the phone and flee into the night.

  CHAPTER 52

  I don’t get far, obviously. They would never allow that.

  It’s Catherine who finds me sobbing, running barefoot in my nightgown, and brings me to Dr. Krause. He administers a shot. When Deck shows up, Dr. Krause tells him that Senator Robert F. Kennedy’s shooting—that’s what got the Fathers out of bed—has made me hysterical. The radio playing in the doctor’s office says the senator’s condition is critical, and I understand he will die, and most of Lilydale will not care because we live separate from the real world here, and boy do we.

  Dr. Krause tells Deck I cannot drive, or work, or experience any distress or I will lose the baby. He prescribes sleeping pills in addition to the Valium, enough of both to sedate an elephant.

  After, Deck leads me to the car.

  “Darling,” he says, “what’s wrong with you?”

  You brought me to this town, you sorry bastard. You dropped me in this crazy stew.

  “I’m sorry, Deck,” I say. It sounds as if I’m speaking in another woman’s voice, a soft, acquiescent woman. “Can you drive me home?”

  It’s a short ride from Dr. Krause’s to the craftsman, white with blue shutters, home to avocado appliances and charming built-ins and my jail. Catherine, Dorothy, and Barbara are waiting. They help me into the house. Dorothy wants to tuck me into bed, but Deck says he can do it. I hear him shooing out the Mothers.

  The baby kicks.

  I’m so sorry, Beautiful Baby. So, so sorry.

  I start weeping.

  Church next Sunday is lovely. That’s what I make my face say if anybody looks at me, and my mouth repeat if anybody asks. The priest speaks of the promise of eternal life, offering hopes and prayers for the Kennedy clan, and then, as an afterthought almost, for the Gomez family. I bow my head and murmur the right words. I’m even wearing white gloves. I’ve chosen a dress that displays my belly in all its pregnant glory.

  I am pure, and I know my role.

  I let no one see what’s inside: my escape plan, fully hatched.

  When I approach Dennis after mass, he appears nervous. It’s only recently that I tricked him out of his car keys, which has certainly gotten him into all kinds of hot water. He glances around the church. There are Mothers and Fathers nearby, but it doesn’t matter if they’re sitting on my shoulders. Every word I say is going to pass muster.

  “Hello, Dennis. Such a wonderful service.”

  He tugs at his collar. “Yes. I’m so glad to see you well. I heard about . . . I’m so glad to see you well.”

  “I shouldn’t have let myself get so excited. You understand. The assassination.”

  Senator Kennedy succumbed to his wounds twenty-six hours after he’d been shot. Deck keeps me away from the television and the radio, but when he isn’t watching me, I have begun listening to the world again. It has me keening with grief. Boys dying in war. Riots. Children starving. I’ve neglected my responsibility as a reporter and a woman, entering the morbid snow globe that is Lilydale, cutting myself off from the tides of the world, from my duty.

  “Yes, terrible news, that.” Dennis is glancing around, desperate for a reason to excuse
himself. I don’t have much time.

  “Mr. Roth, I’m worried about my health. I’m so sorry, but I think I shouldn’t write articles for the paper until after I have the baby. Maybe not even until he’s school-age and my days free up.”

  Dennis is so relieved that he encases my gloved hands in his long insectile fingers. “That’s probably for the best. Don’t you worry. We’ll hold your job for you until you’re ready.”

  I squeeze his hands back. “I would like to write one final article,” I say, keeping my smile firm.

  His face falls.

  “I’ve so admired the gardens belonging to the Mill Street women. It would make me joyous to write an article honoring their talent.” I chuckle heartily, leaning forward as if I’m about to share a delicious secret. “Who knows? With any luck, I might pick up a miracle that would help my own gardening.”

  His eyes tear up. I scared him, and then I offered him a gift. “I promise I’ll make room for it.”

  “You’re too kind.” I perch on my tippy-toes to kiss his cheek, and he leans forward so I can reach. Afterward, when I’m about to walk away, almost as an afterthought, I say, “Do you suppose I could borrow your camera for a few days? The article would be so much better with pictures of the lovely flowers.”

  He’s smiling so wide I fear the top of his head is going to tip off. “Stop by later. I have some work back at the shop and will be in this afternoon.”

  I nod and make my way to the church basement. I walk straight to the five core Mothers: Catherine the Migrant Mother, Mildred the Mouse, Birdie Rue, Saint Dorothy, and Bland Barbara. I stand next to them meekly. I can tell they’re mad at me. I have been a lot of trouble. I won’t be anymore. Eventually, when I don’t ask questions, they relax. When Mildred mentions the next crow hunt and I keep a placid smile stapled to my face, Catherine asks if I would like to help cook for it. I say yes. They’re no longer asking if I want to be initiated, but being asked to help in the kitchen is the next best thing. I just need them to let down their guard.

  I stay late to clean up. When Deck is waiting impatiently by the door, I tell him I’ll walk home without him. He hesitates. He doesn’t particularly want to stay home with boring old me. Yet he doesn’t want to get in trouble, either. Letting me walk unchaperoned might be a bad decision for him.

  I grip his arm softly. “Deck, I don’t want anything to happen to this baby. I’ll walk slow. The fresh air will do me good.”

  He relents.

  I’m the last person besides the priest to leave. I make my way leisurely, smelling flowers along the way. When I’m halfway home, I pause as if a thought has come to me. I step into an alley, a shortcut to Wally’s that passes alongside Regina’s back entrance. I come out the other side whistling. Inside the grocery store, I buy eggs and milk. Enough food to show the necessity of the trip, but not enough to make anybody worry about me carrying something too heavy.

  Slipping the note under Regina’s door was the one risk in my whole plan.

  I wrote it in a way that I’m covered, though.

  If she tells on me.

  She probably will. Everyone is against me.

  CHAPTER 53

  “Sister, I thought you were avoiding me,” Regina says.

  I smile stiffly. “This pregnancy. Makes it impossible to get out of the house some days.”

  My note asked her to meet outside the Lilydale Public Library first thing the next morning. While it doesn’t offer much, it carries encyclopedias and a handful of dusty volumes on pregnancy. When we step inside and check out the shelves, I’m relieved to also discover a comprehensive collection of cookbooks.

  The librarian watches me from across the room. She can observe which sections I take books from, but I retrieve so many that it’s impossible to make sure what exactly I’m pulling.

  I discover validating information in a leather-bound encyclopedia, but it’s the cookbooks I’m really here for. When I find what I’m after, I return all the books to the shelves, smiling at the librarian the whole time. Then I wait for Regina to finish reading the magazines.

  She plays an important part in my escape plan, though she doesn’t know it.

  We stroll to Tuck’s Cafe at my suggestion.

  “How’s work going?” I ask her.

  She shrugs. “Same old, same old.”

  She seems so kind, so normal. I wish there were any other way.

  But I can’t trust anyone, not anyone but myself.

  I catch the door handle on my stomach entering the restaurant. She laughs. “You’re getting pretty big.”

  I pat my belly. “You don’t know the half of it. All my clothes are dirty right across the tummy because I rub it into everything.”

  “How’s it feel? I mean, what’s it like to carry another person around?”

  “Amazing.”

  She smiles. It’s wistful. I almost lose my courage. But I have no other option. There’s a good chance she’s on their side, has already told on me. If they got Ursula to turn, surely they got Regina. Believing that makes what I’m about to do possible.

  She slides into the booth. She’s waiting for me to do the same. Instead I raise my voice. “I will not!”

  She stares around the restaurant. She has no idea what I’m talking about.

  “I’m a mother-to-be. The last thing I need to do is smoke marijuana!”

  Regina’s jaw goes tight. Her overbite is barely visible. “You don’t have to do this.”

  “You’re the one doing this,” I say, my voice shrill and loud. Everyone in the restaurant is looking at us. Exactly as I planned. “I don’t ever want to see you again.”

  Her face crumples. I hate them so much in that moment, the people of Lilydale. They’ve made me into a monster, but what choice do I have? I must make them trust me, or they will take my baby and they will kill me.

  I storm out. My work is done. Within minutes, the Mothers and Fathers will know that I’ve severed ties with Regina. They’ll recognize that I am compliant. That will buy me the twelve hours I need to get the hell out of here.

  I have Deck’s favorite supper and a bottle of ice-cold beer on the table when he arrives home from work. I massage his shoulders before I join him. If his conscience bothers him at all, he doesn’t let on. When he finishes his beer, I get him another one.

  The first one had the sleeping pills ground up in it.

  The second one is just for show.

  The doctor prescribed me one a night, and so I ground up four into Deck’s beer. I need him to fall asleep early and stay there.

  I’m escaping Lilydale tonight.

  Before I do, though, I need a guarantee that they won’t follow me and the baby, and I finally figured out the only thing that would suffice.

  Deck doesn’t even make it all the way through dessert before he crashes face-first into his plate. I consider gluing his balls to his thigh. I have some time to kill until it gets dark, after all. I decide I don’t have the luxury of petty revenge, though.

  Survival is my only priority.

  I clean up supper, even though I will not be back. It’s something to do, busywork to distract me until it gets late enough to leave. If a Father or a Mother stops by, my plan is shot. I believe they won’t. I hope they won’t. I hope my stunt in the café with Regina assuaged them.

  When the phone rings, I jump. I smooth the front of my shirt. I need to calm myself. Whoever it is, I will tell them that Deck is out.

  When I have my emotions under control, I pick up the phone. “Hello?”

  “You’re not going to believe what I uncovered,” Grover says, his voice strangled. “It’s worse than I imagined.”

  I nearly swallow my tongue. In my plan, I never considered that Grover would call. “I think you have the wrong number,” I say.

  I hang up. A drop of sweat rolls down my neck. I intended to hold off on phase two until later, but now it’s too much of a risk. They’ve been alerted.

  I check on Deck. He’s still out cold.r />
  After I finish tonight, I’ll never see the shitheel again.

  CHAPTER 54

  It’s dark outside, but I still sneak out through my back door. I’m wearing a pair of Deck’s dress pants belted above my bulging belly. Over that, I’ve donned an old shirt of Deck’s that I used for painting, and then a jacket. His matching fedora is crammed low on my head. I wouldn’t pass any close inspection, but from a distance, I look more like a man in a hurry than a pregnant woman fighting for her life.

  I toss a nervous glance at the Lily house next door. There are no lights on, but it still takes all my willpower not to dash to the car. It’s like their house is watching me. I start the Chevelle. I steer it toward Schmidt Insurance.

  Once I have my insurance, I’ll be out of town immediately and forever.

  Lilydale is a ghost town at 10:00 p.m. on a weeknight. I pass a single lonely patrol officer, offering a wave and a tip of my hat brim as I drive past. I pull into the lot behind the insurance company, park, and take out the business keys I stole from Deck. I let myself in the back door.

  I have the camera, a flashlight, and an idea of what I’m looking for.

  I start with the filing cabinets. Becky Swanson is meticulous in her filing. I locate the Aandeg file in the As and confirm that Schmidt Insurance took over insurance payments as an act of goodwill two months before the fire, naming the town of Lilydale as the beneficiary until such a time as Virginia Aandeg could resume payments.

  If a person didn’t know how evil Lilydale was, this would look generous.

  I locate the same setup in the Gomez family file.

  I learned from a library encyclopedia that it’s possible to burn down buildings and leave no evidence. Naming the city as beneficiary is a further way to throw off fraud investigators. Of course, the city and the Mill Street families are one and the same, but an outsider wouldn’t know that.