St. Francis Society for Wayward Pets

by Annie England Noblin

  “So, she conned you into helping today, did she?” Eva said to me when I stepped up beside her. “You’re a sucker, Maeve.”

  “I would have helped anyway,” I said. “But a few days ago, she told me she had enough help. I guess that changed this morning.”

  “Usually Alice and my mom and I all help out,” Eva replied. “But it ended up just being me, and Alice was stuck having some kind of a misunderstanding with her neighbor.”

  “Mr. Rose?” I asked.

  Eva nodded. “He and that vulgar daughter of his never give Alice a moment’s rest.”

  “Oh, Charlene’s all right,” I said.

  “Well, her father is about fifteen pounds of crazy in a five-pound bucket,” Eva replied. “But it’s good of you to come today. Really.”

  “I don’t mind, Eva,” I said. “Really, I don’t.”

  Eva let out a long-suffering sigh. “I hate this day. It’s always so crowded, and I see parents of my kids when it’s not even parent-teacher conferences. They always want to talk about how their little darling is doing, and you know, I just don’t have the energy to say that their child is smart and talented on a Saturday.”

  I laughed. “Do you have to say that?”

  “No,” Eva replied. “I suppose not.”

  “Oh, hello, Ms. Eva,” a round woman wearing a polka-dot blouse said, laying several skeins of yarn on the counter. “How are you?”

  Eva plastered on a smile and said, “Oh, I’m fine, Mrs. Wilkerson. How are you?”

  “Good, good,” Mrs. Wilkerson replied. “I just love the sale days, don’t you? I’ve already been down to the frame shop to get a frame for Mackenzie’s kindergarten diploma. Forty percent off! Isn’t that a steal? I’m so hoping she’ll have you next year for first grade just like her brother did.”

  “I hope so too,” Eva replied. “Mackenzie is just so smart and so talented.”

  “You know,” Mrs. Wilkerson said, handing Eva her credit card, “I hear that a lot, but I never get tired of hearing it!”

  It was all I could do not to burst out laughing, but Eva jabbed me in the side with her bony elbow, and I cleared my throat instead.

  “You have a good day, Mrs. Wilkerson,” Eva chirped, handing her card back.

  “Wow,” I said once the woman walked away. “That was impressive.”

  “Now you see why I’m so insufferable after three p.m.,” Eva replied.

  We spent the rest of the afternoon helping people who didn’t look like they’d ever used a knitting needle in their entire lives pick out discount yarn. By two p.m. we were both exhausted.

  “Take a break,” I said to Eva. “Go back to Florence’s apartment and get something to eat like she told you to do three hours ago.”

  “Are you sure?” Eva asked. “It does look like things are slowing down a bit.”

  “I’ll be all right,” I said. “I can run the register myself, and I know enough about the yarn to pass for intelligent.”

  “You’re a lifesaver,” Eva replied, giving my arm a squeeze. “As soon as I splash some water on my face and grab a granola bar, I’ll be out to relieve you.”

  “Take your time,” I said.

  Eva disappeared into the back, and I turned my attention to the handful of customers left in the store. We were nearly out of the summer stock, and I understood what Florence meant about making more money today than they would over a few months. The day I’d been at the store, we’d had no more than a dozen people the entire time I worked and had even fewer sales.

  I was grateful when I heard the door jingle and two more people stepped inside. I looked up to see that it was Max and another girl about her age—a frail-looking blond girl wearing a dress about three sizes too small.

  “Hey, Maeve,” Max said.

  “Hi,” I said, surprised to see her. “How’s it going?”

  Max rolled her eyes. “Dad made me stay with Harriett and Eva last night to work on a research project. It’s not even due for two more months.”

  “Well, it looks like you’ve managed to escape today,” I replied.

  “Not really,” Max grumbled.

  “Who is this you’ve got with you?” I asked.

  “This is my friend Cassie.”

  “Hi, Cassie,” I said.

  Cassie gave me a shy smile and then looked down at her dirty fingernails.

  “Cassie needs something,” Max continued, leaning over the counter, her voice quiet. “She needs to get a starter kit to, you know, knit her father a scarf.”

  “Okay,” I said. “Let me go back and get Florence. She said I was supposed to get her to distribute a kit. Something about instructions.”

  “No!” Max said, grabbing my arm. “Please, don’t get Florence. She’s in a hurry. Can’t you get her a kit?”

  “I’m really not supposed to,” I said.

  “Why not?”

  “I don’t know exactly,” I replied. “It’s just that Florence likes to do it herself.”

  “Please,” Max persisted. “It’s important.”

  I sighed. “Fine.” I reached down below the counter and pulled out one of the starter kits. “Here.”

  Max took it and shoved it down inside Cassie’s backpack. “Thanks,” she said. Together the girls hurried back out of the store, whispering to each other.

  I shrugged. Teenage girls were weird.

  Eva came to relieve me, and I ran home to let Happy out and then went right back to help close up for the night. By the time I got back, Alice was there, sweeping the floors with a big dust mop.

  “Better than a cane,” she said to me with a wink, holding out the broom.

  “We had a good day,” Florence said, reaching behind me to switch the shop sign to “Closed.” “I think we did over three thousand dollars today.”

  “Wow!” I said. “That’s amazing.”

  “It is,” Florence replied. She stepped back behind the register and bent down. “Hey, we’re missing a starter kit. Eva, did you give one away today?”

  Eva shook her head. “No.”

  “I did,” I said.

  All three women turned to look at me.

  “I meant to tell you, Eva,” I said. “But we got busy after you got back and I forgot. Max and a friend stopped by. Max said her friend needed a starter kit for her father, and you and Florence were both busy. So I went ahead and gave her one.”

  “You did what?” Florence asked, her voice ticking up a notch. “I told you not to give out any starter packs. I told you to always come and get me.”

  “I couldn’t come and get you,” I replied. “You were outside dealing with the storm damage, and Eva was gone. I couldn’t leave the shop unattended.”

  “Then you should have told them no,” Eva replied. “You can’t give a starter pack to a kid.”

  “Why not?” I asked. “I’ve seen what’s in them, Florence. You showed me yourself. It’s just some yarn, a pair of knitting needles, and instructions about how to knit a scarf.”

  “That’s not the point,” Florence said.

  “Then what is the point?”

  “I told you not to give them out.”

  I was beginning to get frustrated. “I’m not a child,” I said. “I don’t understand what the big deal is about—”

  “That’s right,” Eva said, cutting me off. “You don’t understand.”

  “Look,” I said. “I didn’t ask for any of this. I didn’t even know who any of you were two weeks ago. Now I’m standing here with my birth mother’s friends, a birth mother who didn’t even want to know me, I might add, and you’re all acting like I’m some kind of horrible human being for giving out a stupid starter pack to a kid who probably didn’t even have two nickels to rub together.”

  “That’s not true,” Alice said quietly.

  “What’s not true?”

  “Annabelle did want you.”

  I felt like screaming. “I don’t care,” I said. “It doesn’t matter now.”

  “You don’t unde
rstand,” Alice replied.

  “Oh really?” I asked, aware that the other women were staring silently at me now. “Why don’t you explain it to me?”

  Alice hesitated, and I pushed past Eva and Florence and grabbed my purse out from behind the counter. Just before I slung it over my shoulder to leave, I pulled the picture out and handed it to Alice.

  “You can start with explaining this,” I said. “You know where to find me when you’re ready.”

  I walked out the door, trying to keep them all from seeing the tears that were threatening to fall down my cheeks as I went.

  Chapter 27

  I PULLED UP IN FRONT OF ABEL’S HOUSE AND SAT THERE FOR a few minutes trying to decide if I wanted to go ahead and rip this Band-Aid off while I was at it, or if I wanted to go home and pull the covers over my head until January.

  I’d honestly expected . . . something. If he regretted it, then I wanted to know. I wanted him to say it. I got out of the car.

  Abel looked genuinely surprised to see me when he opened the door.

  “Maeve,” he said. “What, uh, what are you doing here?”

  “Can I come in?” I asked.

  He stepped aside so I could enter. “I was gonna call you,” he said.

  “No you weren’t,” I replied. “You don’t have my number.”

  “Oh, right.”

  “Listen,” I said. “I didn’t come here to call you out. That’s not my style, and honestly, I’m too tired to do that.”

  Abel reached up to scratch his beard. “Okay,” he said finally.

  “If you regret last night, that’s okay,” I continued. “I mean, it’s not okay, but if you regret it, I’d rather know now. It’ll be easier this way.”

  “Are you all right?” he asked, taking a step closer to me. “You look like you’ve been crying.”

  I stepped back. “Not over you,” I replied.

  There was a small hint of a smile on his face at that, but then his look turned serious, and he said, “Mae, I just . . . I didn’t expect . . . there hasn’t been anyone since Claire. I didn’t think there would ever be, and then I met you. I wasn’t thinking straight last night. Hell, I haven’t been thinking straight since I saw you that first night in Three Sheets. You’re all I can think about. . . .” He trailed off.

  “But?” I asked, already knowing that would be the next word.

  “But I have a daughter,” Abel said. “I have a daughter, and I’ve worked really hard to make sure she doesn’t forget her mom . . . to make sure I don’t forget her mom.”

  I reached out and put my hand on his arm. It looked at that moment like I wasn’t the only one close to tears, and despite the fact that it felt like my heart was being ripped out of my chest for a million different reasons, I felt nothing but sympathy for what he must be going through.

  “Abel, I don’t want to take her place,” I said quietly. “I don’t want to take her place, and I don’t want to live with a ghost.” I removed my hand and put it down at my side to keep it from trembling. “I’m already living with one ghost, and I just don’t think there’s room for another.”

  A tear slid down his cheek, and he nodded.

  “It’s okay,” I said. “I don’t hate you, and if we just end it now, I won’t have to.”

  * * *

  When I got home, Alice was sitting on the front porch. The picture was in her hand. “I think we need to talk,” she said when she saw me.

  I sighed. “I might be all talked out,” I replied, sitting down next to her.

  “Do you want to go inside?” I asked.

  She handed me back the picture. “The man Annabelle is with is my brother,” she said. “His name was Billy.”

  Suddenly I remembered where I’d seen him—in a picture at Alice’s house. He was younger in the picture, but his eyes were the same.

  “Is he my father?”

  A strangled sob escaped Alice’s throat, and then she said, “Yes. I think he was.”

  “You think?” I asked. “How can you not know if your own brother was my father?”

  “Let’s go inside,” Alice replied. “This is going to take a little while to explain.”

  I got Alice settled on the couch, and I found some tea bags in the pantry. I poured us each a hot cup and asked her to start from the beginning.

  “My father hated my brother,” Alice said after a few sips of tea. “He hated me too, I know he did, even though it hurts like hell to admit it. I dealt with it by fighting at school and being tough. It was easy for people to underestimate me—the little crippled girl—but my brother, well, he was never much of a fighter. When Daddy drank, he usually took it out on Billy, and Daddy drank a lot. Billy started using drugs and running around with a rough crowd.” Alice waved one of her hands in the air. “You know how the story goes. It’s an old story, really. Billy was troubled, and eventually he got into trouble. He did some time in prison for drugs, and when he got out, he did really well for a while. By the time he got out, Annabelle was living with us, and Daddy wouldn’t let him come home. He got a job at the factory, got his own place, and I was so proud of him. So proud. Annabelle and I used to go over to his place, and we had such a blast. Pretty soon they started to spend time together, just the two of them. I didn’t mind so much. Annabelle was already like a sister to me. I always thought it would have been nice, you know, to have her in the family for real.”

  “So what happened?” I asked.

  “Daddy loved Annabelle about as much as he hated Billy. He was fixated on her, I guess. I don’t know. We never talked about it, but I’m not stupid. And when Daddy found out about Annabelle and Billy, well, when he suspected there was something going on, he did everything he could to break it up. Billy lost his job. His place. He lost everything, and he just couldn’t handle it. He started using again, and then one night he came over to the house to try to get Annabelle to go with him, and she wouldn’t—she couldn’t. She was already pregnant with you. Billy didn’t even have anywhere to live. Daddy lost his temper, and that was the last time we ever saw Billy. He was dead the next morning—drug overdose, they called it.”

  “Alice, I’m so sorry,” I said. I reached out and took her hand.

  Alice looked up at me. “You have to believe me, Maeve. Your mother wanted you. She loved you. That’s why she did what she did. She didn’t have any options, and she didn’t want my father to know that you were his grandchild. She would have died protecting you from him. She was desperate, and she was scared. She did the only thing she could do.”

  I sat there for a minute, stunned. “I wrote her letters,” I said finally. “When I was sixteen, I tried to know her, and she sent them all back. Every one of them back, unopened.”

  Alice nodded. “I know. They came to my house—to my parents’ house. I sent them back. She never knew about them.”

  I scooted away from her. “You did what?”

  “I’m so sorry,” Alice wailed, putting her head in her hands. “I thought it would be better that way. God help me, I was just trying to protect you both.”

  I wanted to be angry, but the full picture of what Alice and Annabelle must have lived through was starting to develop, and it was terrifying. I couldn’t imagine what they’d been through, and I realized that was exactly what Annabelle had hoped for—a life for me where I couldn’t even fathom that kind of existence.

  “So why did she leave everything to me?” I asked after a long moment.

  “She hoped one day she could know you,” Alice said. “And I think it was partly a way to make sure that you knew that she never forgot about you. Not for a second. Ever.”

  “You’re my aunt,” I said to Alice. “We’re . . . related. I’ve never been able to say that to anybody before.”

  Alice looked over at me. “I’ve thought about you every single day for the last thirty-six years,” she said. “I hope you’ve had a good life.”

  “I have,” I said as she embraced me. “I have.”

  Chapter 28 />
  IT MUST’VE BEEN THREE A.M. BEFORE ALICE LEFT MY HOUSE. We sat up and talked about everything. She promised to bring all the pictures she had at her house of Billy and Annabelle the next day.

  By six a.m., my phone was buzzing on the nightstand, and I reached over and grabbed it, knocking it to the floor.

  “Shit,” I muttered, hanging halfway off my bed and running my hands underneath the bedframe.

  When the ringing stopped and then immediately started back up again, I knew the person calling was my mother. I considered not answering and going back to sleep for a few more hours, but I knew that if I didn’t answer, she’d just keep calling. Once, in college, she’d called the campus police because she couldn’t get me on the dorm phone at six o’clock in the morning on a Saturday.

  “Hello?” I tried to pull myself back upright, but I lost my grip and slid off the bed and into a heap on the floor.

  “Maeve?” My mother’s voice was panicked. “MAEVE! Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine,” I mumbled, trying to untangle myself. “I fell off the bed.”

  “Are you drunk?”

  “What?” I sat up. “Mom, no, I’m not drunk.”

  My mother clicked her tongue against her teeth and said, “Well, I don’t know why else you’d be falling off your bed.”

  “Was there something you wanted, Mom?” I asked, already regretting my decision to answer the phone. “I’m really tired.”

  “I’m just calling to check on you,” she said. “Your brother said he couldn’t get you on the phone at all yesterday, and I was worried.”

  “I meant to call him back,” I replied. “Yesterday was kind of intense.”

  “How do you mean?”

  The events of the previous evening came spilling out, and I couldn’t stop myself from telling her everything. She listened, silent on the other end of the phone until I was finished.

  “I never really expected to find out who my father was,” I said afterward. “And now that I know, now that I know everything, I don’t know how to feel.”

  I expected my mother to have plenty to say about everything, but all she said was, “I’m so sorry that you lost them both without ever knowing them.”