by Jessica Pack
“Of course not.”
“Great, I just need to find her shoes and coat.”
Amanda had been to this park on other visits; it was only a block away and a better option than having to sit across from Melissa and make small talk. She’d already prepared a list of topics that could keep them from talking about anything too emotional—how behind she would be at work when she logged back in on Tuesday, when the moving truck would arrive, details about the condo and how much she loved what Paul and Melissa had found for her. She wanted to make sure she was super positive.
Lucy came running in as soon as the front door shut, but then stopped as she looked up at Amanda with big blue eyes and took hold of Melissa’s leg.
“This is Grandma, Lucy,” Melissa said with a laugh. “You saw her last night, remember?” Lucy put her arms up without taking her eyes off of Amanda and Melissa picked her up, holding her on her hip, Lucy’s left leg draped casually over Melissa’s rounded belly.
“Hi, Lucy-Bell,” Amanda whispered, coming closer. Lucy’s hair was untamed and completely enchanting. She had a big purple flower tacked onto an elasticized headband that did not match the pink top and pants she was wearing. All of a sudden Lucy leapt from Melissa’s arms, causing both women to gasp and Amanda to quickly catch her. Lucy giggled as wild as her hair. Amanda laughed nervously as Lucy threw her arms around her neck and gave her a squeeze. Melissa shook her head with the look of a bemused parent.
“Apparently, she remembers you after all,” Melissa said. “Let me find those shoes.”
The afternoon was nice, if a bit stilted. Exactly as it had been on prior visits, but with the added weight of knowing this was something she would have to do over and over again. Would it always be this way?
Amanda squatted at the bottom of the slide to catch Lucy while Melissa took a phone call from a friend of hers who wanted to know how Melissa had made homemade Play-Doh. Melissa gestured while she talked, then rested her hand on her belly, then laughed. So natural with a friend. Amanda turned back to Lucy, who was babbling about something as she climbed the ladder to the slide again, and realized she was . . . jealous of Melissa? She turned and looked at her daughter again and felt the confirmation. Jealous of the ease Melissa could have with people and jealous that Melissa had found a way to still be herself, whereas Amanda had had to put up barriers and checkpoints. And then another thought came to mind. Was she also jealous of Melissa on Robbie’s behalf? Jealous that Melissa had done everything right while Robbie had done everything wrong.
Amanda shook her head. It was cruel to hold any of that against Melissa.
“Everything okay, Mom?”
Amanda started, realizing that she’d lost touch with the present again while Lucy played with a plastic pirate wheel that had distracted her on the way to the slide. She was singing to it. Amanda blinked at Melissa and put her plastic smile back in place. “Yes, of course. Sorry.”
She turned away and headed for the bottom of the slide so she’d be ready when Lucy descended.
“Are you . . . thinking about Robbie?”
I’m always thinking about Robbie, Amanda thought. She shook her head, however, uncomfortable with the intimacy of the question and sensing that Melissa would disapprove if she were to say the answer out loud. “Lucy?” she called up the slide. “Grandma’s ready to catch you.”
Lucy looked through the slats of the play area, grinned, and scampered to the top of the slide.
By the time they had arrived home, Amanda had exhausted the topics of conversation she’d been prepared to discuss and could feel her nerves frazzling. She tried to act happier in hopes of covering her increasing anxiety but knew it came off false.
Paul came home from a meeting at their church and helped diffuse the guilt-inducing tension. Amanda and Melissa made dinner together—grilled cheese sandwiches, tomato soup, and peach cobbler made from preserved peaches Melissa had put up that summer. Amanda hadn’t known that Melissa home-preserved foods, and asked how Melissa had gotten interested in it. Melissa’s answer filled up the space between them for a full fifteen minutes until the cobbler was in the oven.
Amanda kept smiling, but all she could think about was going back to her condo. It was more than exhaustion and awkwardness that made her long for isolation; it was that she was so much more aware of her exhaustion and awkwardness than she’d been before. She hated seeing that they had become a mother and daughter who could not connect despite the daughter’s attempts. A family in mourning, and not just for Robbie. For everything they’d lost when he did what he did. A daughter who had left her brother behind for her own sanity. A mother who was disappointed that her daughter’s life could be so good. It was so wrong and horrible, and yet rather than put down the plates she was drying by hand and say “Melissa, can we talk?” she kept drying the dishes and letting Paul and Melissa talk about everyday things that required limited answers on her part. She kept seeing Steve’s pale face. Was that the reaction she could expect from anyone who learned who she was here? Had she been better off in Sioux Falls, where she didn’t have to inform the people she met? Where she didn’t have to manage a mother–daughter relationship.
Amanda put the final dish in the cupboard, then hung the damp dishrag over the edge of the counter to dry. “Well,” she said with forced cheerfulness that drew Paul’s and Melissa’s attention from where they were sitting on the other side of the counter. “Thank you so much for the lovely afternoon and dinner, it was all just perfect. I think I’ll head home. I’m exhausted and need to plan out my errands for tomorrow. I start back to work on Tuesday and want to have everything done by then.”
“Oh, that’s right,” Paul said with a smile and understanding as his tone. “Back to the grindstone.”
“Oh my gosh,” Melissa suddenly broke in. “I didn’t even ask you about giving that ring back to that guy. How did it go?”
“It went . . . fine,” Amanda said, but she felt her voice waver and sensed an internal alarm going off. Today had been a lot, what with trying to be comfortable in this new role of three-block-away mom and grandma while running through the last few days and continually thinking about the blood draining from Steve’s face when he’d learned who she was. “He was very gracious about the whole thing.” She started walking toward the living room, where she’d left her coat. She could sense a breakdown coming and she needed to go before it happened here. No one saw her in her raw form. Ever.
“Did you find out why Robbie had it?” Melissa asked, following.
“Um, yeah, he worked with Robbie one summer on that landscape crew and gave it to him.”
“Just like that?”
No, not just like that, but she hadn’t stayed to hear anything else and she couldn’t stay to explain that right now. She needed to go back to the condo, fall apart, and then put the pieces back together.
Steve Mathis was nothing to her. She needed to focus on her new life in Ohio, and she was scared to death that she wouldn’t be able to be everything she needed to be now that she was here. That she and Melissa would never connect, that they would never talk about Robbie or Robert Mallorie or anything of substance. “Just like that,” Amanda lied.
Melissa stopped in the doorway between the kitchen and living room. “Oh, good.” She sounded disappointed, as though she knew Amanda was running away from her.
“Thanks again for everything,” Amanda said. “It was all so great. This is going to be really fun being so close.”
“Yeah,” Melissa said, but her sad tone cut through Amanda, causing more feelings to bubble up, which leaked more panic into Amanda’s system. Too much, too soon. What had happened to all her strength and resolve? How could she be so certain about the importance of finding the owner of a stupid ring and so uncertain of how to connect with her daughter? She heard Melissa take a breath and for a moment Amanda thought she was going to get angry. Stomp her foot and demand that Amanda stop running away. Stop letting Robbie, even in death, be the only person in her world
. Did part of Amanda want Melissa’s rage? Because it would help shake Amanda into this new reality, or because if she raged then Amanda could be angry in return?
“You’re sure you need to go? The cobbler will be out in another ten minutes, then ten minutes to cool and, shazam, we have dessert.” Melissa’s smile was a little bit wobbly, a little bit pleading as she tried one more time to say what she’d tried to say a dozen times today. I need you. I want you. Please be here with me.
Amanda had to pretend she didn’t notice, as she had done a dozen times today. Melissa deserved more than this and they both knew it. More time. More truth. More effort.
I’m not ready yet, Amanda told herself as she picked up her coat from the back of the chair. But couldn’t she be a little bit honest? Didn’t Melissa deserve that much? She imagined that after she left, Melissa would turn to Paul and cry. He’d hold her and assure her that things would get better, but Melissa would be sad and disappointed and, maybe like Amanda, worry that it wouldn’t get better.
Amanda took a deep breath and chose just a little bit of courage. “I’m sorry, Melissa.” She raised a hand to her head and rubbed her forehead. “I’m just . . . overwhelmed. It’s been so long since I’ve talked to people, or spent time with anyone I care about and then I miss Robbie and . . .” Her voice was shaking as the words tumbled out and her anxiety spiked. She couldn’t fall apart here. Not like this. She didn’t look at Melissa as she put her hands through the sleeves of her coat. She looked at the toe of her leather shoe, where there were two dark spots from where Lucy’s apple juice had spilled earlier. I’ll be what you need me to be, but not tonight. Not yet.
When? a voice asked. Why not now?
Because it’s too soon. I’m not ready, and neither is Melissa, whether she thinks she is or not. We need to get to know each other. We need time to be comfortable again before she sees how broken I really am. Better yet, maybe I can be all healed up and perfect before she ever has to know.
“Lucy, come say good night to Grandma.”
Melissa wasn’t going to fight her on her escape. Amanda let out a relieved breath and turned toward the kitchen doorway, where a pink shooting star with a big purple flower in the center of her forehead dashed through, her arms wide open and her feathery brown hair floating around her head as though she were in water. Amanda barely made it to one knee before Lucy jumped, fully expecting Amanda to catch her for the second time that day. The little girl wrapped her arms around Amanda’s neck. It seemed natural for Amanda to embrace her tightly, but then she closed her eyes, and felt the absolute love this little girl had for a woman she’d really only just met. The sensation rippled through Amanda, reminding her of the pebble in a pond analogy she’d thought of so many times with Robbie. This time Lucy was that pebble and the ripples were the kind you wanted to savor one by one. Amanda inhaled the scent of grilled cheese sandwiches, a walk to the park, and strawberry baby shampoo. Lucy. With her big blue eyes, wraparound heart, and future as wide as the sky. Unlimited potential and eternal greatness were within this tiny body even though Lucy could not tie her own shoes or understand the concept of what it meant to need redemption. Everything perfect and innocent and wonderful. Something shifted inside Amanda’s chest and she stopped fighting the emotion she didn’t want anyone to see. She had been stuck for such a long time, but there was more. More now. More later.
Okay, she said to herself, knowing that welcoming acceptance Melissa was extending to her now wouldn’t be open forever. If Amanda insisted on hiding, Melissa would start protecting herself. The awkwardness would stay. The hurting would continue. They would be physically closer but just as far apart as they had been these last four years. Robbie would continue to keep them apart. That something shifted again, cracked, began to splinter. The shaking she felt was a sob from deep inside of her, bottled but bursting. The choking sound she made caused Lucy to relax her squeezing and pull back. Amanda blinked through the tears, but the face of her granddaughter would not come into focus. She felt a tear slide down her cheek. This wasn’t the kind of fun-grandma impression she wanted to make. Lucy was going to be scared.
Except Lucy wasn’t scared. She lifted her chubby little hands and patted Amanda’s teary cheeks. She grinned widely and then flung her arms back around Amanda’s neck. Amanda looked past Lucy to see Melissa, still standing in the doorway with big blue eyes full of tears and a wraparound heart all her own. Amanda reached her hand toward her daughter with equal parts apology and invitation. “Melly,” she said in a whisper. Melissa crossed the room and came rather awkwardly to her knees behind Lucy. She leaned over her pregnant belly and two-year-old daughter to embrace her mother, who was finally here.
22
Steve
Ten years, five months, six days
“You look like hell.”
Steve turned to give Kyle a flat look. “Gee, thanks.”
Kyle grinned, then sat down at the other computer and began updating order statuses. Steve focused on one of his Monday morning tasks, reviewing the day’s service schedule and managing the outgoing parts order—ongoing stock items like filters, oils, and O-rings that were used on a regular basis. He took another swallow of coffee—his second cup and it wasn’t even eight o’clock. But then he didn’t usually stay up until after midnight, eyes glued to his computer. Eyes now scratchy and burning in protest.
“Looks like they didn’t send that muffler,” Kyle said absently from where he reviewed the order sheet from receiving. “We might have to send someone over the river for it. Hey, what’s that?”
Steve followed Kyle’s gaze. “It’s my high school ring.” He twisted it off and handed it over while trying to hide how closely he was watching Kyle inspect it. He didn’t know whether or not to be surprised that Kyle had noticed it—so had his family. Apparently a blue stone the size of a marble got people’s attention.
“Man, I wanted to get one of these my senior year,” Kyle said wistfully, turning the ring this way and that. “Football, huh?”
Steve nodded, feeling pride in his accomplishments on the field for the first time in who knew how long. “Tight end.”
“Awesome.” Kyle handed it back. “I only played my sophomore year until I blew out my knee. How come we’ve never talked football days before?”
Because I had to cut out that part of my life to have this one. “We should start.”
Kyle grinned and then swiveled his chair back to face his portion of the counter. “So, back to the muffler—whatddyawannado?”
“Ty comes in at noon—maybe he could pick it up on his way,” Steve said. “I’ll text him.”
Kyle grunted in a kind of ambiguous agreement to the plan. Both men fell silent save for the tapping of their keys for a few minutes longer. Tara came over to wish them a good morning. Steve made eye contact only long enough to return the greeting. She leaned forward with her elbows on the counter and asked how the day’s schedule was looking. Steve kept his eyes on the computer, though he was pretty sure he could look down her shirt if he wanted to. He suspected she knew that. “Busy in the morning, easing up in the afternoon, though scheduling will probably fill the open spots.”
“So, you mean we might actually get a lunch break today?” Tara asked, lifting her eyebrows. She had dark hair, dark eyes, and full lips. She was pretty. Young.
“I hope so,” Steve said, politely. “Might be the only one this week, though. Things are stacked in pretty tight for the remainder.”
“You picked a fine time to leave us, Steve-o,” Kyle sang out.
“Oh yeah, you’re heading out of town this week, huh?” Tara made a pouty face.
“Thursday through the weekend,” Steve said.
Tara laughed as though what he’d said was terribly funny. “Maybe you and I can run over to Wendy’s for lunch then, since you won’t be around later in the week.”
Steve’s hands paused on the keyboard and he met her eye. She’d never issued a direct invitation before. His mouth went dry and for
an instant he imagined her as a partner in life. To have her sitting on the couch next to him, helping him decide how best to manage his 401(k). To take her to the movies and call her to see if he should pick up milk on the way home. The momentary longing made his chest soften and shift, like frosting on a warm day. He’d never had that kind of partnership. He and Rachelle were eighteen years old when they had tried to make their marriage work, and it never really had. She had cried, a lot. He stomped around feeling sorry for himself in equal proportion. And then they were parents and life was going a hundred miles an hour. The moments of blissful ease were so few that it was hard to stop his mind long enough to believe they had really been there at all. Rachelle had that ease with Mitch now, and Steve would often try to ignore the envy he felt when she would snuggle into Mitch’s side, or he would give her hand a squeeze. Not envy because he wanted Rachelle—that ship had sailed—but the desire for . . . someone. The idea that Tara could be that person burned out before he could turn it into an aspiration. “Thanks for the invite, but I brought something from home.”
“Surely it will keep. That’s what the employee fridge is for, right?”
Her boldness surprised him, but he turned back to the screen as though he hadn’t noticed. “Thanks anyway,” he said with finality. “Kyle, what’s the ETA on the transfer case for that Dodge? By noon, I hope.”
Kyle answered him. Tara left. Steve felt like a jerk.
Once she was gone, Kyle let out a breath. “Seriously, Steve? When was the last time you got an offer as good as that one?”
“And how about that transmission—it’ll be here in time for the two o’clock, right?”
Kyle was quiet in a way that said too much. “Yeah, I expect both of them in the ten o’clock shipment.”
They didn’t talk about it anymore and ten minutes later the doors were unlocked and Monday officially began. Steve put in an order for some seat covers and replaced the battery in an old woman’s key fob. He pulled parts as needed by the service techs, checked off the second morning shipment—a full set of tires hadn’t come in and he spent half an hour tracking them down at a dealership in Cincinnati. Ty agreed to pick up both the muffler and the tires. The day marched on. Kyle took the early lunch and Steve took the later one. He ate his tuna sandwich in the employee break room while scrolling through more articles about Robert Mallorie, even though he was pretty sure he’d read them all over the weekend. He’d found pictures of Amanda at Robert Mallorie’s court hearings. Mentions of her in several articles. Then she was front and center when she argued against Robert’s decision to fast-track his execution. He’d found a news clip where she addressed the press in a shaky voice, her strawberry blond hair pulled back from her thin face. The press had eaten her alive for her stance, and as quickly as she’d come out of the shadows to fight for her son’s life, she’d retreated back into them. Steve pulled up the article he’d used to identify her when she’d shown up at his door Saturday morning—he couldn’t believe now that he hadn’t made the connection between Robert Mallorie and Robbie when he’d read it the first time on Friday morning.
