by Traci DePree
She heard the pickup door slam, so she quickly took off her apron and hung it on its hook alongside the refrigerator. Then she went to the front door to greet her husband with a kiss.
But when he opened the screen door, the last thing she wanted to do was kiss him—the scent that accompanied him was overpowering.
“What did you do?” She covered her nose with her hand. “You smell like...like skunk!”
Paul touched the end of his nose. “Bingo,” he said. “And my head is screaming. I think this smell is giving me a headache.”
He lifted a foot to step into the house, but Kate pushed him back onto the stoop. “No, you don’t!” she said. “I don’t want my house contaminated with that smell.”
“What am I supposed to do?”
Kate placed her hands on her hips and thought for a moment as the cold outdoor air chilled her. “Come through the garage,” she said. “You can strip down there. I’ll bring you your robe. And you can go get a bath.” Then she paused. “Will a bath take that smell away?”
“I always heard it was tomato juice, but I didn’t want to go into the store smelling like this.”
“I’m sure the public is grateful. I’ll have to go get some, I guess. Do they sell it by the barrel?” She lifted a teasing brow but quickly put a hand over her nose and mouth again as another gust of winter air brought the scent back to her. “How could you—?” Then, “At least go soak in the tub while I run out to the store. And don’t touch anything!”
“I won’t,” he said sheepishly.
She shut the door on him and went to get his flannel robe from the back of the bathroom door. When she opened the door to the garage, Paul was ready for her. He slipped the robe on while Kate pinched her nose. “So much for my delicious-smelling meal,” she moaned. “All I can smell is...you.”
Paul shrugged. “It’s not as if I planned this.”
He went into the bathroom just off their bedroom and turned on the hot water, while Kate blew out the candles, turned the oven on warm, and set their meal inside. Then she reached for her car keys and went to get her coat.
As she was leaving the house, she called out, “Now don’t move until I get back!”
“You don’t want me rolling around the carpet?”
“Don’t even joke!”
BY THE NEXT MORNING, most of the skunk scent was gone from Paul’s person, though Kate decided to throw away the clothes he’d been wearing for fear that the scent would permeate her washer and dryer. He’d left early for the church, saying he needed to get caught up on his sermon preparations since he’d been scouring the countryside the day before in search of that dog.
Kate sat in her favorite rocking chair in the living room, enjoying the quiet of the morning as chickadees and blue jays fought over the seed in the birdfeeder outside in the backyard. She’d been praying and reading her Bible as she usually did before she took up whatever tasks the day held. She’d found over the years that when she didn’t stop for those moments of peaceful contemplation and time alone with God, the worries of her day often overtook her and put her on a treadmill that went nowhere.
She’d been praying for Marissa and Patricia, that now that her chemotherapy treatments were coming to an end, Marissa would find energy to do the things she enjoyed, and that when the test results came back, she would be cancer-free.
Kate lifted her face toward the ceiling and closed her eyes. Lord, she went on, give me wisdom to help, to show Patricia that she doesn’t have to lean just on herself. That’s been so exhausting for her. She needs your peace. She really does. Amen.
When Kate lowered her head and opened her eyes, she saw that a male cardinal had landed on her feeder. He tilted his bright red head with its black mask, then dipped down for a taste of the black-oil sunflower seeds. A blue jay returned and chased him away. Kate didn’t mind, however. Any birds were welcome to come, red or blue...
Blue. The word stuck in her brain. She rolled it around, wondering at its significance. Blue was a color—so what of it? But the color of what?
Then it struck her. Why hadn’t she thought of it before? Of course. She’d learned about genetics in high school.
She rose from her seat as excitement welled. Padding into the kitchen, she placed her cup and saucer in the sink, quickly rinsed them, and set them in the drainer. Then she dried her hands on a dishtowel. Grabbing her cell phone and purse, she went to the hall closet, put on her warmest winter coat, and made her way to her car.
She had to talk with Livvy. She had to. All her niggling thoughts hadn’t been for nothing. She knew that now, but she had to make sure before she accused Patricia of lying.
Chapter Ten
It was a crystal clear day, the sky so blue it hurt her eyes to gaze at it too long. Even the snow seemed tinted in blue as it melted. It tugged at the branches of the evergreen trees along Smoky Mountain Road, dragging them down with the weight.
When Kate reached the outskirts of town, she could see that the inviting day had pulled many Copper Mill residents from their hibernation. Joggers moved at a steady pace along Hamilton Road. An elderly man with white hair and a hooded jacket pedaled the opposite direction on his Schwinn bicycle.
Kate made a right turn onto Main and a left onto Smith, then pulled into the library parking lot, which seemed unusually full for a Wednesday morning. Climbing out of her car, she tugged her purse onto her shoulder and made her way up the stairs of the historic two-story brick building.
Inside, the library was abuzz with activity. A group of children sat in a semicircle around a woman who was reading Make Way for Ducklings aloud to them in the children’s area of the library. Even the periodicals section was filled with patrons perusing magazines and newspapers.
Kate glanced at her watch as she reached the checkout station where Livvy stood reading the computer screen.
“What’s going on today?” Kate asked as her gaze moved around the large room.
Livvy lifted her head. “The preschool is on a field trip.” She smiled and motioned to the four- and five-year-olds who were entranced with their story. “So, what are you up to?”
“I need you to do a little research for me.”
“Okay...?” Livvy said, raising her intonation slightly at the end of the word so it became a question. “What’s this all about?”
“Do you remember our talk about Patricia Harris a couple weeks ago?”
“Of course.”
“Well, I’ve thought of something new.”
Livvy waited for her to go on.
“Do you have any way to look up old birth announcements from the paper? I mean, would they be on microfilm?”
“Sure they are. We could look at some online databases too.”
Livvy clicked the keys of the computer. “Whose birth announcement are we looking up?”
“Marissa Harris’s.”
“Why in the—?” Livvy began.
“Just trust me. It’s a hunch, but I think I’m onto something.”
“Do you know her birth date?”
Kate searched her memory. It seemed she had seen something at the house...Then she remembered. “There was a cross-stitched picture in the hallway. I remember seeing it because I have one for each of my kids. It said ‘Marissa Lauren Harris,’ born...Oh, let me think.” She chewed on her lower lip as she thought. “When did Elvis Presley die?”
“What does that have to do with it?”
“Just look it up.”
Just then, three preschoolers came up with one of the teacher’s aides to check out some picture books. Livvy attended to them, and once they left, she turned to her computer and googled “Elvis Aaron Presley” and “death.” She clicked on the top link for Wikipedia, and within moments had the information she needed.
“Gotta love the Internet. August 16, 1977.”
“That’s it! Marissa was born August 16, 1985. I remember because it was two years after my Rebecca was born.”
Livvy clicked around some more on he
r computer, but came up empty. “Let’s see what microfilm can show us.”
She waved Morty Robertson to the desk. He was a retiree who often volunteered at the library. “Could you watch the desk for a few minutes?” Livvy asked.
The white-haired man nodded. Livvy walked upstairs, with Kate right behind her, to a microfilm machine that was sitting at the far end of a long table amid computer stations, which were filled with patrons. Livvy pulled several microfilms from that time period from the file and set the first in place on the machine. She scanned the pages, quickly finding the birth-announcement section. Deciding the information wasn’t on that one, she put in the next. Still nothing. She went through all the data from August through October of that year, but there was no birth announcement for Marissa Lauren Harris.
“Why wouldn’t Patricia have had a birth announcement put in her hometown paper?” Kate asked as they made their way back downstairs. “Or wouldn’t her parents have made sure their granddaughter’s birth announcement was listed? Or someone?”
Livvy nodded in agreement. “This is a small town; folks here make sure every detail of their lives is journaled in that paper, including when their kids come home for a visit from college.”
“Unless they weren’t proud to be grandparents,” Kate said under her breath.
Livvy thought about that. “You think Patricia and Ray were pregnant with Marissa before they got married?”
Kate shook her head. “No.”
“I’m completely lost, then,” Livvy said.
“What do you know about genetics?” Kate asked.
Livvy gave her another puzzled look. “Genetics?”
“I was always told that two blue-eyed people can’t have a brown-eyed baby,” Kate went on.
“I guess I heard that too.”
“Sam Gorman said Ray had blue eyes.”
Livvy squinted hers. “Yeah, I think that’s right. Vivid blue as I recall.”
“Patricia has blue eyes too. And Marissa’s are dark, dark brown.” She let the sentence hang for effect.
Livvy turned to her friend, her mouth agape. “Wow.”
“I don’t want to assume, though,” Kate said. “I know what I was taught in high school—that the gene for blue eyes is recessive, so when two blue-eyed people get married, they’ve in essence eliminated any brown-eyed genes from the gene pool. But who knows what’s happened in the last forty-five years of genetic research? I don’t want to go talking to Patricia if I’m totally off base.”
Livvy nodded. “Probably the wise course to take.” By then, they’d reached the front desk and Livvy dismissed Morty to return to his cart of returned books.
“Would you mind looking into it for me?” Kate asked Livvy. “I have a hair appointment at Betty’s in a few minutes, and besides, I know you’d find the information in a fraction of the time it would take me.”
Just then, five more preschoolers and their teacher appeared at the front desk with books to check out.
“Mind if I do it once the crowd thins out?” she asked.
“When you get the chance,” Kate said. “I’ll swing by later.”
“Don’t worry. I won’t forget!”
KATE PAGED THROUGH an old Redbook magazine as she waited on the padded bench in Betty’s Beauty Parlor. All three chairs were filled with women, and a fourth woman was sitting under the noisy dryer in the corner.
The beauty shop was a time capsule in perfect early 1960s vintage. Even though Betty had taken over the establishment fifteen years before, it remained a testament to her predecessors. Posters of blond Doris Day wannabes hung on the walls, the backgrounds faded to a pale puce color. The scent of perm solution was ever present, whether someone was getting a perm that day or not. The chairs looked as though they hadn’t been changed since they’d been installed. They were a salmon-colored vinyl with white piping along their seams, and they complemented the white-and-aqua-checkerboard floor. There was a shampoo room in the back, with a couple of sinks and a desk across from them that served as Betty’s office.
One of the women rose from her seat, gazing at herself in the mirror and touching her newly styled hair. It was a short, short pixie cut, carrot red in color. Kate hadn’t seen many fifty-year-olds with such a style, yet she had to admit it did look good with the woman’s green eyes.
“Wow,” the patron said. “This is going to surprise Bob so much.” She moved to the counter to pay her bill, then gave a quick wave and left.
“That means you’re up, Mrs. Hanlon,” Betty said. She was a cute woman, with short bleached-blond hair and gray eyes. Kate didn’t know her real well yet, but with her regular visits for manicures, cuts, and stylings, she knew they’d become very familiar soon, especially the way the woman liked to talk.
Kate and Betty made their way to the farthest chair, passing the other two stylists, who were chatting and cutting hair. Both girls looked to be in their twenties, fresh out of cosmetology school. Kate set her purse on the floor alongside the chair, then sat down. Betty draped a large vinyl bib around her, fastening it behind her neck. It covered her lap completely.
“So, what’s it going to be today?” She fingered Kate’s strawberry blond locks. “I could give you some highlights, make that red more dramatic.” She raised her eyebrows at Kate in the mirror and smiled.
“No,” Kate said. “That’s okay. Just wash it up and give me a trim, I think. And a manicure?” She held up her hands for Betty to see. “This polish is looking tired, and my cuticles could use some freshening.”
“Good enough.” Betty nodded.
She and Kate walked to the shampooing station, where Kate took a seat. Betty leaned Kate back so that her head rested in the crook of the hair-washing sink. The warm water felt good on Kate’s scalp. Betty sudsed it up with gentle hands, rinsed, then added conditioner and rinsed that as well.
“You’re squeaky clean,” she said as she helped Kate sit upright and wrapped a towel around her hair turban-style. Then she removed the towel, still pressing it against Kate’s hair to soak up as much excess water as possible. They returned to Betty’s chair out front.
“So, what have you been up to this fine day?” Betty asked as she reached for a comb and started running it through Kate’s hair.
“Nothing much,” Kate said. “I spent a little time with the Lord, then came down to the library for some...research.”
“Research, you say? Are you writing a paper or something?”
“Nothing like that. Just looking at some old birth records.”
“Hmm.” Betty moved to the other side of Kate’s head and combed that side as well. “I heard through the grapevine that you’ve been visiting the Harrises a lot lately.”
Kate was stunned. “How...how did you hear that?”
“Their neighbor, Mrs. Healy, said she’s seen you coming and going. Oh, she didn’t say anything bad,” Betty quickly added. “Just that she’s seen your car there a lot and that Marissa is terribly sick.”
“I’ve been...helping out here and there,” Kate said. “Bringing a few meals.” She gave a shrug.
“I wish more people would get out of their little boxes and look after the needs of others like that. What is this world if people don’t care about their neighbors?”
Kate found herself feeling uncomfortable with the thread of conversation, yet the woman went on. “And those Harrises...if any family has been out there helping others, it’s them. Ray used to volunteer with Habitat for Humanity. You know he was an electrician? ’Course you knew that. And Patricia...she was always there for all the school events, that one parent who went on every field trip.”
Betty reached for the scissors and began to trim Kate’s hair. How the woman could concentrate on her job and talk at the same time, Kate wasn’t sure.
“And it wasn’t easy for her, having Marissa at such a young age. Of course, Ray was quite a few years older than her. And her parents...Well, they were a different breed of people. She sure has changed since Ray’s passing.�
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“Patricia?” Kate asked.
Betty nodded. “She used to come all the time before. Now I never see her. I wonder who’s doing her hair. Maybe she’s getting it done in Chattanooga...When I do see her, she seems eager to get away. Have you noticed that?”
Kate looked up at Betty. She had to admit what the woman was saying was true, at least of her early visits with Patricia. Kate nodded.
“It’s sad to see how some people just never get a break. Well, I guess her marriage was a good one, but with everything since...I mean it was bad enough that her parents didn’t even attend her wedding.”
“They didn’t?” Kate asked.
Betty shook her head. “Patricia told me once when she was getting her hair cut. I mean, what girl doesn’t want her own mother at her wedding? You know her folks never even met Ray before they got married? And there was always this...sadness about her. Even when Ray was alive. It was just under the surface, you know, like she’d break into tears if you mentioned that one sensitive spot. But I guess I could have been imagining it...”
That information wasn’t new, yet something about it resonated within her. She’d felt that way around Patricia too, as if there was a switch inside of her that, once tripped, would send forth a torrent of emotions. Hadn’t she seen it the last time she’d gone to visit, and when she’d discovered Patricia with the photo album? Kate had assumed it was because of Marissa’s illness and Ray’s death. But was it more? If she’d acted that way even while Ray was alive, surely there was another reason. But what?
WHEN KATE RETURNED to the library, all was quiet inside. The preschoolers had cleared out. Livvy was at her desk in her office, staring at her computer screen. She raised her head when Kate came in. Piles of new books and paperwork, puppets, and boxes of chocolates that would be the rewards for the upcoming adult readers’ challenge covered the surface of one of the long tables.
