As I grabbed for my purse and Gracie’s leash, everyone started talking at once, but the blood pounding in my ears was such that I didn’t hear a word. Instead, I thought back to being a kid in my own household. How my father would abuse me with words and slaps. How no one intervened. Maybe this was a flashback because my mouth was so dry my lips stuck to my teeth. On some level, I couldn’t think. I operated on pure emotion, all my energy focused on running away.
“Come on, Anya, hustle.” I walked over to where she was sitting and took her by the elbow.
As I marched us toward my car, Gracie’s leash caught on one of the picnic tables. With a whipping motion I popped it loose and flipped over a bowl of salad in the process. The lettuce flew up and up like green confetti, then sprinkled down.
Detweiler ran to me, caught me by the arm, and caused me to pivot. “Please, stop! We need to talk. You can’t go like this. It’s not safe for you to drive when you’re this upset.”
“From now on, when we need to talk, we need to do it in private, understand? If you want us to be a family, then treat me with respect as a partner. Don’t invite me to a gathering and put me on the spot.”
I stood on my tiptoes so we were eye-to-eye. “I love you. I care about you, but I will NOT be treated in a disrespectful manner. Nor will I sacrifice my daughter because you are in a jam.”
He grabbed my hands and drew me close. “I wouldn’t ask you to hurt Anya. You know that. And you are completely right. We should have discussed this in private. In my defense, John Henry surprised me. Yes, he’d mentioned this, but I had no idea he’d spring this on you.”
John Henry trotted up to stand next to Detweiler. One hand fought to straighten his bowtie. “I fear this is my fault entirely. I had no idea this would cause you such distress, Kiki,” said John Henry, as he panted with exertion.
“Mr. Schnabel, here’s news you can use. When I make a promise, I keep it. I promised my daughter I wouldn’t get married before this baby came, and that’s all there is to it. If I marry Detweiler before the baby is born, then Anya is the last Lowenstein standing. That’s very upsetting to her. It feels to her like her whole family is gone. Or will be, when her last name doesn’t match anyone else’s. I love Chad Detweiler, and if he loves me, he’ll be willing to wait.”
“Of course, I will. You know that, Kiki. I love you. You and Anya and our baby,” and he wrapped an arm around me, so I could hear the soft thumping of his heart.
I rested my head there, loving the comfort of him, but I kept one eye on John Henry. To his credit, the attorney gave me a solemn nod. “I understand.”
But when I stepped away from him, Detweiler’s face told me that he was very, very hurt.
forty-eight
Anya and I moved briskly toward my car.
“I will need to interview you about the shooting and the other problems with Brenda Detweiler,” John Henry called after me. “You obviously have an airtight alibi, but I must still ask you a few questions. I hope you won’t mind.”
“Whether I do or not is irrelevant.”
I unlocked the passenger side door for Anya and Gracie, who had to be coaxed inside. She cast longing looks at Detweiler, but I didn’t. I was pretty ticked at him.
After getting my passengers situated, I walked around to the driver’s side and climbed in.
“Mom? You okay to drive?”
“I think so.”
I backed out slowly and did a three-point turn. Detweiler walked over to the side of the driveway. He stood with shoulders hunched, and one hand shoved deep into his jeans pocket. If I hadn’t been so angry, I would have burst into tears at the sight of him, seeming so defeated.
But I wasn’t about to back down. No way. I waved and drove out slowly, not to seem like I was overly excited.
But I was.
I got lost three times on the way to the hospital in Alton.
I parked under a tree in the visitors’ lot. Anya and I cracked the windows so Gracie wouldn’t get hot. But even then, since the internal temperature in a car can jump up alarmingly, I couldn’t leave my dog in the car.
“How about if you go see Sheila first? I’ll wait here. When you come back, I’ll go. That’ll give me time to calm down.”
Anya turned those denim blue eyes of hers on me. Her brows met in a knot of concern. “Will he still want to marry you?” Her fingers snaked over to twine with mine.
Her question caught me off-guard. I tried to answer honestly. “I think so.”
“Do you still want to marry him?”
I hesitated.
Flipping her blond hair over her shoulder so it didn’t tickle her face, she edged closer to me and rested her head on my shoulder. “Mom, you do love him, don’t you? You said you do.”
“Yes.” That came quickly. “Yes, but you can’t bake a cake with sugar as your only ingredient.”
“Oh, brother. Why do I sense a lecture coming on? I should have gotten out of the car while I had a chance!” Anya reached for the door handle. She had her father’s hands, slender with long thin fingers.
I touched her other hand and held it.
“Wait. You need to hear this. See, it takes more than love to make a marriage work. I know the Beatles wrote, ‘All you need is love,’ but they were wrong. You have to have the same goals. And respect. Communication. Especially that. I mean, it’s not enough to love someone. You have to pull in the same direction, or you’ll pull apart.”
“I thought you and Detweiler had all that.”
“I thought we did, too. I hope we still do. This will probably be our toughest time as a couple. I’m not ready to throw in the towel. Not at all. But I am curious as to how we’ll get our act together. There’s this marriage counselor who predicts whether couples will stay together. One important trait of a happy couple is the ability for them to make up. Think about it, and you’ll see why. Sometimes one person would initiate the forgiveness process. Sometimes the other, but there had to be a peacemaker in every argument, and the other person had to respond in kind. Does that make sense?”
Leaning back, Anya pursed her lips and let her eyes roam the interior of the black ragtop. “Kinda. But here’s what really confuses me. You used to never get mad. Never talked back to people. Gran could walk all over you. Anybody could, really. But today, you really gave it to Detweiler. And his family. And his attorney, too! You didn’t hold anything back. So I’m wondering, what happened to the old mom?” She sat up to stare at me. “Is this because of your head injury? Robbie told me that can make people weird. Or is it because you shot a man and you’re all, like, macho now?”
I’d been expecting her to bring up the shooting. In fact, I’d hoped she would so we could discuss it. Clear the air.
“Maybe both. Maybe neither. I grew up watching Disney films and reading fairy tales. Thinking that a white knight or a handsome prince would rescue me, because, well, my home life was so terrible. When your father came along, I thought maybe he was the guy. But he wasn’t. Not exactly. When Brenda forced me into the car, I kept telling myself that Detweiler would find me. Or Robbie Holmes. But they didn’t come. I thought Johnny had a plan. That he would take care of … things. Then he was shot. I tried to stop the bleeding, but I couldn’t, and I realized he was going to die. And that awful man was strangling Sheila.”
I took a shuddering breath. Anya squeezed my hand encouragingly. “I kept thinking, ‘I can’t shoot Bill Ballard! I can’t do this! I’m just a mom! A nice person!’ and I started to get angry that Detweiler or Robbie or Johnny couldn’t rescue me. And suddenly I had an epiphany. You know what that is?”
She shook her head no. That little face of hers was so solemn, so focused, that I nearly laughed out loud.
“An epiphany happens when you suddenly see the light. When you understand something, especially something you’ve been struggling with. See, I realized that had
Detweiler or Robbie or Johnny shot Bill Ballard that would be okay with me, but I didn’t want to be the person to pull the trigger. In other words, I was being a hypocrite. After all, if it was okay for them to shoot, why wasn’t it okay for me? Of course, it was!”
I swallowed hard and kept going. “I wish I could honestly tell you that all of this is clear in my mind. Or that I’ve come to grips with it. But I haven’t. Not totally. All I know is that I really, really wanted to see you grow up, and to save my baby, and of course, to save Sheila and Johnny. At first, I was resigned and thought, ‘So this is how I’m going to die?’ And just as fast, I realized I could save myself. And two other people I love.”
I squeezed both Anya’s hands, those soft, sweet hands that had trustingly held mine so often. “I asked myself, why was I waiting for a man to rescue me? Suddenly, I saw how silly that was.”
She frowned. “So I guess you are different. I guess it did change you. That makes sense. It was a pretty big deal, after all.”
My voice dropped to a whisper. I was talking to myself more than to my daughter as I said, “The question is, did I change for the better? I’m not sure …”
forty-nine
As Anya started for the hospital entrance, I let Gracie climb into the passenger seat. As if she knew I needed comfort, she pawed at me, finally resting her large head in my lap where I stroked those velvety uncropped ears. All the drama of the day exhausted me. I must have fallen asleep.
She and I awakened to the metal on metal sound of the passenger door opening. Anya snapped on the dog’s leash and let Gracie out to piddle while she rested one hand on the roof and smiled down at me. “Gran is back in fighting form. She’ll come home on Monday. Isn’t that super?”
“It sure is. Should I go on in and see her? Or is she tired?” In truth, I’d had enough of big emotions for one day. I was angling for an excuse to take a raincheck on seeing Sheila. Any excuse would do.
“She asked for you. Said she wants to talk.”
Gracie tugged at Anya, making it clear she wanted to sniff around the lot. I gave my daughter the car keys and told her I’d be back.
The paper-thin skin of the volunteer at the front counter crinkled with concentration as she scanned the computer screen for Sheila’s room number. My trip along the medicinal-smelling halls with Ned pushing my wheelchair seemed like a distant memory. But I knew that the minute I laid eyes on Sheila, the whole ugly scene at the slough would come back with a vengeance. Dragging my feet wouldn’t help. Sooner or later, I’d have to face my mother-in-law.
After a few wrong turns, I stepped through the partially open door to her room.
The big metal bed dwarfed Sheila as she lay there alone in that sterile surrounding. Thank goodness Robbie Holmes had accompanied Anya on her first visit here. What a shock it must have been to see her strong, vital grandmother in such distress!
Hearing my footsteps, my mother-in-law turned toward me. Her lovely blue eyes crackled with alertness. However, the hair she always coiffed so carefully stuck out at odd angles, in oily clumps. Sheila never goes without makeup. She’s nearly sixty, but on a good day looks forty-five. Today was not a good day; she looked every minute of her age and then some. The impact of her pale skin, her limp hair, and her washed-out features hit me hard. Nana would have applied the phrase “death warmed over” to the sad ghost of a woman in the bed.
“Don’t just stand there and gawk at me, Kiki. Come sit down. Close the door. I live in fear that someone I know will wander by and see me like this. If they do, I’ll have to get myself a gun and hunt them down.” A corner of her mouth turned up in a half-smile.
“I wouldn’t advise that,” I said as I backed into the chair. “You’ll be the talk of the town. I am.”
She cackled. “That’s because that stupid boyfriend of yours didn’t dump his drug addict wife a long time ago. In case you’re wondering, I’ve heard all about the charges against him.”
“What do you think?” I asked.
Sheila usually smells like Prada perfume, but today the oily scent of her unwashed hair and rubbing alcohol filled the air, making me incredibly sad. Usually her fragrance lingered on my clothes after we parted. Over time, the scent of her had become a comfort, because it was as strong and sure as she always was. Where had that gone?
“Pfft! You and I both know he didn’t do it. If he had, he would have been smart enough to count his shots and pick up the casings. No, someone set him up. I’m surprised you haven’t stuck your nose into the investigation already.” She spoke with effort, her words shortened and wheezy.
“I did. Got my hands slapped.” I told her about the gun switcheroo. Then, because I couldn’t help myself, I spilled what had happened at the Detweiler farm.
To my amazement, Sheila listened instead of jumping to judgment. When I finished, those blue tractor beams locked on me. “My, my. You have grown a spine, haven’t you?”
Tears filled my eyes. “I don’t know if I did the right thing.” I grabbed a tissue and stopped the flood before it ran down my cheeks.
“You love him, don’t you?”
“I do.”
“Has it occurred to you that he’s acting like a deer that’s been clipped by a car? He doesn’t know where to run. He’s used to being king of the forest, and now he’s a wounded beast.”
“And you know this how?”
“Because it happened once to Harry. He made a mistake. Wasn’t paying attention, didn’t face a hard fact. Could have gone to jail. Instead, he had to pay a fine to the attorney general and endure a public scolding. We woke up one morning to see it splashed all over the front of the business section.”
“But you knew it would turn out okay, didn’t you?” I stood and tugged at a bit of her covers that were slipping down from her shoulders. That’s when I saw the splint and sling. The sight of her broken wing caused my stomach to coil into a knot. Luckily, she’d closed her eyes again or she would have seen the expression of chagrin on my face.
“Don’t be stupid. I’m not a fortune teller. How did I know what would happen?”
Nice to know she could still fuss at me.
She continued. “What a mess! But I never let Harry know how frightened I was. I kept telling him it would be all right. I stayed calm. That’s what he needed, and that’s what I did. If two people are in a boat and they both panic, sure as shooting, they’re both going overboard. Instead, I became the ballast that kept us steady. I laid low. I reviewed his options with him, and I held my head high when the paper came out. I told him those who knew him would see it for what it was. And they did.”
“Is that what I should do?”
Those ice blue peepers snapped open. “Me? Give advice? Perish the thought! You do realize that women are stronger than men, don’t you? Always have been. Always will be. There’s a line from Jane Eyre that I’ve always liked. ‘It is weak and silly to say you cannot bear what it is your fate to be required to bear.’ Buck up, Kiki. He’s the one facing life in prison. You aren’t. If he’s lost, confused, and misguided, isn’t this the time he needs you most?”
A nurse walked in, holding a paper cup. “Time for your pain pill, Mrs. Lowenstein.”
“I need to get going. Anya and Gracie are waiting.”
To the nurse, Sheila held up the universal “just a minute” sign, one index finger upraised.
I stood up, leaned over, and kissed Sheila on the cheek. Miraculously, she managed to snag my left hand with her right one. Her grip was surprisingly strong, and her gaze was direct as she said, “It will be all right. You’ll see.”
“I love you, Sheila.”
“Of course you do.”
fifty
Although each step felt like walking through wet cement, I forced myself to trudge up the stairs to the critical care department where Johnny was. The hallway fed directly into the visitors’ lounge. Mert’s head
was bent over a magazine. She didn’t see me at first, but I saw her and immediately noticed her messy hair, her rumpled clothes, and the eye makeup smeared onto her cheeks.
A big believer in “displaying the merchandise,” Mert always wears push-up bras from Victoria’s Secret or Frederick’s of Hollywood. Today she wore a sloppy sweatshirt turned inside out and a pair of old jeans. Both her legs were tucked under her bottom, in a childlike pose. A pair of wedges rested on the carpet.
As if she knew she was being watched, her gaze slowly turned my way.
“You.”
That’s all she said. The accusation in her tone stopped me from coming closer. Her eyes glowed hot as coals with anger. I froze, unsure what to do or say. Here was a woman who’d been my biggest supporter, my greatest ally, and my dearest friend.
I could feel the hate directed my way.
My knees went weak.
She’d warned me about her anger. How when people crossed her, she would cut them out of her life and never change her mind. Mert had many wonderful qualities, but she took a pretty cut-and-dried approach to friends: You were either for her or against her.
“Mert, I never meant to—”
“Of course not. You’re like Daisy in The Great Gatsby, aren’t you? Leaving messes for everyone else to clean up.”
I pinched my arm to keep from sprouting tears.
“How is Johnny?”
“Does it matter?” This came out like a hiss.
“It matters a lot.”
“Right,” she spat the word in my direction. “My brother was in love with you. You didn’t realize it, did you? Nope. You were too high and mighty for him. Wouldn’t even consider a man who’d been behind bars. And he knew it. Sure he did. But he’d have done anything for you. Anything at all! That’s how much he cared, from afar. Look where it landed him!”
For the second time that day, I wanted to run away as fast as my feet would carry me. At the Detweiler farm, I’d been full of spit and vinegar.
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